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Title: John Cheap, the Chapman's Library. Vol. 2: Religious and Scriptural

Author: Dougal Graham

Release date: December 15, 2020 [eBook #64050]

Language: English

Credits: hekula03, John Campbell and the Online Distributed

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN CHEAP, THE CHAPMAN'S LIBRARY. VOL. 2: RELIGIOUS AND SCRIPTURAL ***

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

This book is a collection of twenty separate ‘Chap-books’. Each Chap-book has its own page numbering from 1 to 24.

There is only one Footnote, which has been placed at the end of its Chap-book.

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

Many minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.

John Cheap

The Chapman’s Library:

THE

SCOTTISH CHAP LITERATURE

OF LAST CENTURY CLASSIFIED

RELIGIOUS AND SCRIPTURAL.

GLASGOW:

ROBERT LINDSAY, QUEEN STREET.

1877.

CONTENTS.

The Life of John Knox.

The Life of John Welch.

The Life and Prophecies of Alexander Peden.

The Life and Prophecies of Donald Cargill.

The Battles of Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge.

The Laird of Lag’s Elegy.

A Wedding King for the Finger.

The Pilgrim’s Progress.

Watt’s Divine Songs.

The Plant of Renown.

Honey from the Rock of Christ.

Sins and Sorrows before God.

A Token for Mourners.

Prayers for Families and Private Persons.

The New Pictorial Bible.

Lives of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The History of Moses.

History of Joseph and his Brethren.

The Life and Death of Judas Iscariot.

The Wife of Beith. (Verse.)

THE LIFE

AND

MERITORIOUS TRANSACTIONS,

OF

JOHN KNOX,

THE GREAT SCOTTISH

REFORMER.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

LIFE OF

JOHN KNOX.

At the Reformation one half of the lands of Scotland were the property of the church. David I. had made over almost the whole of those belonging to the crown, and his example was imitated, not only by many of his successors, but by all orders of men, with whom the founding a monastery, or endowing a church, was thought to be a sufficient atonement for the breach of every command in the decalogue.

Besides the influence derived from the nature and extent of their property, generally let on lease, on easy terms, to the younger sons and dependants of great families, the weight the clergy had in Parliament was very considerable. The number of temporal barons being extremely limited, and the lesser barons and representatives of boroughs looking upon it as a hardship to attend, combined with the mode of choosing the Lords of the Articles. Its proceedings in a great measure were left under their direction and control.

The Lords of the Articles were a Committee whose business it was to prepare and digest all matters that were to be laid before Parliament. Every motion for a new law was made in this committee, and approved or rejected by the members of it; what they approved was formed into a bill, and presented to Parliament; what they rejected could not be introduced into the house. This committee owed the extraordinary powers vested in it to the military genius of the ancient nobles, and in this way not only directed all the proceedings of Parliament, but possessed a negative before debate. It consisted of eight temporal and eight spiritual lords, of eight representatives of boroughs, and of eight great officers of the crown, and when its composition is considered, it will easily be seen how much influence it would add to the already too great power of the clergy.

Their character also was held sacred; neither were they subject to the same laws, nor tried by the same judges as the laity, a remarkable instance of which occurred on the trial of the murderers of Cardinal Beaton, one of whom was a priest. He was claimed by a delegate from the clerical courts, and exempted from the judgement of Parliament on that account.

By their reputation for learning, they almost wholly engrossed the high offices of emolument and trust in the civil government; but even this was not for acting in their capacity of confessors, they made use of all these motives which operate so powerfully on the human mind, to promote the interest of the church, so that few were allowed to leave the world without bestowing on her some marks of their liberality, and where credulity failed to produce this effect, they called in the aid of law. (When a person died intestate, by the 22d Statute of William the Lion, the disposal of his effects was vested in the bishop of the diocese, after paying his funeral charges and debts, and distributing among his kindred the sums to which they were respectively entitled, it being presumed that no Christian could have chosen to leave the world without destining some of his substance to pious purposes.) Their courts had likewise the cognisance of all testamentary deeds and matrimonial contracts, and to these engines of power, and often in their hands of oppression, they super-added the sentence of excommunication, which besides depriving the unhappy victim on whom it fell of all Christian privileges, cut him off from every right as a man or citizen. To these, and other causes of a similar nature, may be ascribed the power of the Popish church; and to these, also, combined with the celibacy to which by the rule of their church they were restricted, may be attributed the dissolute and licentious lives of the clergy, which in the end destroyed that reputation for sanctity, the people had been accustomed to attach to their character.

According to the accounts of the reformers, confirmed by several popish writers, the manners of the Scottish clergy were indecent in the extreme. Cardinal Beaton celebrated the marriage of his eldest daughter with the son of the Earl of Crawford, with an almost regal magnificence, and maintained a criminal correspondence with her mother to the end of his days. The other prelates were not more exemplary than their primate, and the contrast between their lives, and those of the reformers, failed not to make a considerable impression on the minds of the people. Instead of disguising their vices the Popish clergy affected to despise censure; instead of endeavouring to colour over the absurdity of the established doctrines, or found them on Scripture, they left them to the authority of the church and decrees of the councils; the only apology they have ever been able, even to the present day, to offer for the monstrous absurdity of their system. The duty of preaching was left to the lowest and most illiterate of the monks.

The following anecdote will give a lively idea of their mode of preaching:—The prior of the Black Friars at Newcastle, in a sermon at St Andrews, asserted that the Paternoster should be said to God only, and not the saints. This doctrine not meeting the approbation of the learned of that city, they appointed a Gray Friar to refute it, who choose for his text, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” which he illustrated in this manner. Seeing we say, good day, father, to any old man in the street, we may call a saint pater, who is older than any alive; and seeing they are in heaven, we may say to any of them, “Our father who art in heaven;” seeing they are holy, we may say, “hallowed be thy name;” and, since they are in the kingdom of heaven, may add, “thy kingdom come;” and as their will is God’s will, “thy will be done;” but when he come to “give us this day our daily bread;” he was much at a loss confessing it was not in the power of the saints to give us our daily bread; “yet they may pray to God for us,” he said, “that he may give us our daily bread.” The rest of his commentary being not more satisfactory, set his audience a laughing and the children on the streets calling after him, Friar Paternoster, he was so much ashamed that he left the city.

The only device by which they attempted to bring back the people to their allegiance was equally unfortunate and imprudent; they had recourse to false miracles, which the vigilance of the reformers detected and exposed to ridicule. The bare-faced impositions that were practised by the monks on the credulous, are almost inconceivable.—Among other customs of those times, it was common for them to travel to Rome and come home laden with relics, blessed by his holiness, dispensations for sin, by which they wheedled the credulous out of their money. One of these, on a holiday, endeavouring to vend his wares to the country people, among other things shewed them a bell with a rent in it, possessing the virtue of discovering the truth or fallacy of an oath; for, as he pretended, if any one swore truly, with his hand on the bell, he could easily remove it, without any change; but if the oath was false, his hand would stick to it, and the bell rent asunder. A farmer, rather more shrewd than the rest of his auditors, suspecting the truth of this assertion, asked liberty to take an oath in the presence of those assembled, about an affair which nearly concerned him. The monk could not refuse; and the farmer addressing the crowd, said, “Friends, before I swear, you see the rent, how large it is, and that I have nothing on my fingers to make them stick to the bell.” Then laying his hand on it, he took this oath.—“I swear, in the presence of the living God, and before these good people, that the pope of Rome is Antichrist, and that all the rabble of his clergy, cardinals, archbishops, bishops, priests, monks, with all the rest of the crew, are locust, come from hell, to delude the people, and to withdraw them from God; moreover, I promise they will all return to hell;” and lifting his hand he added. “See, friends, I have lifted my hand freely from the bell, and the rent is no larger, this sheweth that I have sworn the truth.”

The cause of reformed religion, was powerfully supported by the ambition of the Queen-dowager. (Mary of Guise) After the death of James V. her husband, the Earl of Arran, was appointed Regent of the kingdom during the minority of her daughter; and from that situation she wished to exclude him, that she might enjoy the first honours of the state alone, and promote the designs of her brothers upon Scotland. For this purpose she applied to the favourers of the Reformation, as being the most numerous of the Regent’s enemies, and forming a respectable body in the state; and although her promises of protection were insincere, they, in a very considerable degree, abated the fury of persecution.

John Knox, who contributed so much, both by precept and example, to work out the Reformation from Popery; was the descendant of an ancient family, and born at Gifford, near Haddington, in 1505. On finishing his education at the grammar school, he was removed to St. Andrew’s, to complete his studies under the celebrated John Mair, by whose instructions he made such progress that he received orders before the time prescribed by the rules of the church. After this, he quitted scholastic learning, so much in reputation at that period, and applied himself with diligence to the reading of the fathers of the church, particularly St Angustine, from which, attending the preaching of one Thomas Enillam, a Black Friar, and the conversation of Mr George Wishart, a celebrated reformer, who came from England in 1545 with the commissioners sent by Henry VIII. to conclude a treaty with the Earl of Arran, after the death of James V. he attained a more than ordinary degree of scriptural knowledge, and entirely renounced the Roman Catholic religion.

On leaving St Andrew’s, Mr Knox acted as tutor to the sons of Douglas of Longniddry, and Cockburn of Ormiston, whom, besides the different branches of common education, he carefully instructed in the principles of the reformed religion, having composed a catechism for their use, besides reading lectures to them on various portions of the scriptures. In this practice he continued till Easter 1547, when werried out by the repeated persecutions of Cardinal Beaton, he left Longniddry for St. Andrew’s, resolved to visit Germany, the state of England proving unfavourable to his views. Against taking this step, however, he was persuaded by the gentlemen whose children he had the charge, to remain in St. Andrews, the castle of that place being in the hands of the reformers.

Here he continued to teach his pupils in the usual manner, but his lectures were now attended by a number of people belonging to the town, who earnestly intreated him to preach in public. This task he at first declined, but afterwards accepted a call from the pulpit, and in his very first sermon discovered such zeal, learning, and intrepidity, as evinced the prudence of their choice, and how eminently qualified he was for the discharge of those duties. This success caused such alarm among the Popish clergy, that a letter was sent to the sub-prior by the abbot of Paisley, natural brother of the Regent, who had been nominated to the archbishopric reproving him for his negligence, in allowing such doctrines to be taught without opposition. A meeting of the clergy was held in consequence, and every scheme they could devise put in practice to hurt Mr Knox’s usefulness; but, in a public disputation, he replied to all their arguments with so much acuteness as completely to silence them, and gained many proselytes, who made prefession of their faith by partaking of the communion openly, which he was the first to administer in the manner practised at present.

This success was not of long duration, for a body of French troops was sent to besiege the castle, and it was compelled to surrender on the 23d July, when he, along with the garrison, was sent prisoner to France, and confined in the gallies till the year 1549. On obtaining his liberty he retired to England, where he preached sometime at Berwick, afterwards at Newcastle and London, and was at last chosen one of the itinerants appointed by Edward VI. to preach the Protestant doctrine through England. Upon the death of that prince, on the 6th July, 1553, he went to Geneva, where he resided when he was chosen by the English church at Frankfort, on the 24th September, 1554, to be their pastor, a situation he accepted by the advice of the celebrated John Calvin, but which he did not long enjoy, for having opposed the introduction of the English liturgy, and refused to celebrate the communion according to the forms prescribed by it, he was deprived of his office; and, such was the malice of his enemies, that, taking advantage of a passage in his “Admonition to England,” wherein he compares the Emperor to Nero, and the Queen of England to Jezebel, they accused him to the magistrates of treason. These gentlemen perceiving the spirit by which his accusers were actuated, found means to apprise him of his danger; and on the 26th march, 1555, he left Frankfort for Geneva, from whence he proceeded to Dieppe, and shortly afterwards to Scotland, where he arrived in the month of August.

On his arrival he found the reformers much increased in number, and after assisting them to rectify some errors which had crept into their practice, accompanied John Erskine of Dun to his seat in the Mearns, where he continued a month, preaching to the principle people in that country. He afterwards resided at Calder-house, the residence of Sir James Sandilands, where he was attended by a number of personages of the first rank; and, among others, by the prior of St Andrew’s afterwards earl of Moray. During the winter he visited Edinburgh; preached in many places of Ayrshire; and in the beginning of 1556, at the request of the earl of Glencairn, administered the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper to his lordship’s family, and a number of friends, at his seat of Finlayston.

In this way did Mr Knox continue preaching, sometimes in one place, and sometimes in another, when his success excited so much attention that the Popish clergy summoned him to appear before them, on the 15th of May, in the church of the Black Friars in Edinburgh. He did appear, but attended by such a number of followers that the clergy deemed it prudent to desist from their intended prosecution; and that same day he addressed a much greater audience than ever he had done on any prior occasion, and continued to do so for ten days.

The earl of Glencairn, one of his firmest friends, prevailed on the earl Marshal, and Mr Henry Drummond, to attend one of Mr Knox’s sermons, they were so highly gratified with it that they persuaded him to address a letter to the Queen, in the hope she also might be induced to hear the doctrine of the reformers. In this letter, contending for the truth of what he taught, he says, “Albeit, Madam, that the messengers of God are not sent this day with visible miracles, because they teach no other doctrine than that which is confirmed with miracles from the beginning of the world, yet will not he (who hath promised to take charge over his poor and little flock to the end) suffer the contempt of their ambassage to escape punishment and vengeance, for the truth itself hath said, ‘he that heareth you heareth one, and he that contemneth you contemneth one.’ I do not speak unto you, Madam, as Pasquillus doth to the Pope and his carnal cardinals, in the behalf of such as dare not utter their names, but I come in the name of Christ Jesus; affirming, that the religion ye maintain is damnable idolatry, which I offer myself to prove, by the most evident testimony of God’s Scriptures; and in this quarrel I present myself against all the Papists in the realm, desiring no other armour but God’s holy word, and the liberty of my tongue.” It was delivered to the Queen by the earl of Glencairn, and by her to the bishop of Glasgow, ( nephew of Cardinal Beaton) with this observation, “Please you, my lord, to read a pasquil,” which coming to the ears of Mr Knox, was the occasion of his making a number of additions when the letter was printed afterwards at Geneva.

At this time he received letters from the English church at Geneva, which had separated from the one at Frankfort, commanding him, “in God’s name, as he was their chosen pastor, to repair to them for their comfort.” Having preached in almost every congregation he had formerly visited, and sent his wife and mother-in-law before him to Dieppe, he sailed from Scotland in the month of July for Geneva. No sooner had he left the kingdom than the bishops summoned him to answer a charge of heresy; and, on his non-appearance, burnt him in effigy at the cross of Edinburgh. Against this sentence, in 1558, he published his “Appellation,” addressed to the “Nobility and Estates of Scotland.” In this composition, which has been much admired, after appealing “to a lawful and general council,” and requiring of them that defence which, as princes of the people, they were bound to give him, he adds, “these things I require of your honours to be granted unto me, viz. that the doctrine which our adversaries condemn for heresy may be tried by the plain and simple word of God; that the just defences be admitted to us that sustain the battle against this pestilent battle of Antichrist; and that they be removed from judgment in our cause, seeing that our accusation is not intended against any one particular person, but against that whole kingdom which we doubt not to prove to be a power usurped against God, against his commandments, and against the ordinance of Christ Jesus, established in his church by his chief apostles; yea, we doubt not to prove the kingdom of the Pope to be the kingdom and power of Antichrist, and therefore, my lords, I cannot cease, in the name of Christ Jesus, to require of you that the matter may come to examination, and that ye, the estates of the realm, by your authority, compel such as will be called bishops, not only to desist from their cruel murdering of such as do study to promote God’s glory, in detecting and disclosing the damnable impiety of that man of sin the Roman Antichrist; but, also, that ye compel them to answer to such crimes as shall be laid to their charge, for not righteously instructing the flock committed to their care.”

In March, 1557, sensible of his importance, a letter, subscribed Glencairn, Erskine, Lorn, and James Stuart, was transmitted to Mr Knox at Geneva, entreating him to return home. Having communicated its contents to his congregation, for which he provided another minister, and taking the advice of John Calvin, and other ministers, he set out for Scotland.

Addressing himself to the lords who had invited his return, Mr Knox expostulates with them on their rash conduct, as having a tendency to cause both them and him to be evil spoken of.—“For either,” said he, “it shall appear that I was marvellous vain, being so solicited, where no necessity required, or else that such as were my movers thereto lacked the ripeness of judgment in their first vocation.” Along with this letter he sent one to the whole nobility, and others to particular gentlemen, advising them in what manner they ought to proceed. On their receipt a new consultation was held, and a bond subscribed at Edinburgh on the 13th December, 1557, whereby they agreed to “forsake and renounce the congregation of Satan, with all the superstitious abominations and idolatry thereof.” From this period those subscribing, and their adherents, were known by the title of the Congregation. Previous to this agreement, however, a number of letters were sent off to Mr Knox, and to John Calvin, that he might use his influence in persuading him to return.

This year (1558,) the Queen Regent, through the concurrence of the Protestant party in Parliament, obtained an act to be passed, conferring the matrimonial crown on the Dauphin, the husband of her daughter, the unfortunate Mary. They had been induced to forward her views in this favourite scheme, that they might obtain from her an exemption from that tyranny with which the ancient laws armed the ecclesiastics against them, and enjoy the free exercise of their religion. No sooner, however, had she obtained the gratification of her wishes, than the accomplishment of a new scheme, the placing her daughter on the throne of England, and to which she had been prompted by the ambition of her brothers, the princes of the house of Lorraine, at that time in the plenitude of their power at the Court of France, rendered an union with the Catholics necessary. It was vain to expect the assistance of the Scots Protestants to dethrone Elizabeth, whom all Europe considered as the most powerful defender of the Reformed faith. She therefore began to treat them with coldness and contempt, and not only approved the decrees of a convocation of the Popish clergy, in which the principles of the Reformation were condemned, but at the same time issued a proclamation enjoining the observance of Easter according to the ritual of the Romish church.

Alarmed at these proceedings, and still more at an order summoning all the Reformed clergy in the kingdom, to attend a court of justice at Stirling, on the 10th May, 1559, the earl of Glencairn, and Hugh Campbell of Louden, were deputed to wait on her and intercede in their behalf. On urging their peaceable demeanour, and the purity of their doctrine, she said, “In despite of you, and your ministers both, they shall be banished out of Scotland, albeit they preached as true as ever did St. Paul.” And on pleading her former promises of protection, she replied, “The promises of princes ought not to be too carefully remembered, nor the performance of them exacted unless it suits their convenience.”

Perth, in the meantime, having embraced the Reformed religion, added to the rage which agitated the Queen against the Protestants, and she commanded the provost (Patrick Ruthven,) to suppress all their assemblies. The answer of this gentleman deserves to be recorded for its manly freedom. “I have power over their bodies and estates,” said he, “and these I will take care shall do no hurt; but have no dominion over their consciences.” The day of trial now approached, and the town of Dundee, and the gentlemen of Angus and Mearns, in comformity of an old custom which prevailed in Scotland, resolved to accompany their pastors to the place of trial. Intimidated by their numbers, though unarmed, she prevailed on John Erskine of Dun, a person of great influence among them, to stop them from advancing nearer to Stirling, while she, on her part, promised to take no further steps towards the intended trial. This proposition was listened to with pleasure, the preachers and some of the leaders remained at Perth, and the multitude quietly dispersed to their respective homes.

Notwithstanding this promise, on the 10th May, the queen proceeded to the trial of the persons summoned; and, on their failing to appear, sentence of outlawry was pronounced upon them. This open and avowed breach of faith added greatly to the public irritation, and the Protestants boldly prepared for their defence. Mr Erskine having joined his associates at Perth, his representation of the Queen’s irreconcilable hatred so inflamed the people, that scarcely the authority of the magistrates, or the exhortations of their preachers, could prevent them from proceeding to acts of violence.

At this juncture, Mr Knox landed in Scotland from France, and, after residing two days in Edinburgh, joined his brethren in Perth, that he might aid them in their cause, and give his confession along with theirs. On the 11th, the day after the sentence of outlawry was pronounced, he made a vehement discourse against idolatry, and while the minds of the people were yet in a state of agitation, from the impression made upon them by his sermon, a priest prepared to celebrate mass, which made a youth observe, “This is intolerable, that when God in his word hath plainly condemned idolatry we shall stand and see it used in despite.” The irritated priest struck him a blow on the ear, and the youth in revenge threw a stone at him, which broke an image of one of the saints. This was the signal of tumult, and ere two days had elapsed, all the churches and convents about Perth were destroyed. Such was the anger of the Queen on receiving this intelligence, that she avowed to reduce Perth to ashes, and ordered M. D’Ossal, the commander of a corps of French auxiliaries, at that time in the service of Scotland, instantly to march, and carry her threats into execution. Both parties, however, were desirous of accommodation, and a treaty was concluded, in which it was stipulated that the two armies should be disbanded, the gates of Perth set open to the queen, but that none of her French soldiers should approach within three miles of that city, and that a Parliament should be immediately held to settle the remaining differences.

No sooner were the Protestant forces disbanded, than the Queen violated every article of the treaty. In consequence of which the earl of Argyle, and the prior of St Andrew’s, who had been her commissioners for settling the peace, with some other gentlemen, openly left her. Having warned the confederates of her intention to destroy St Andrew’s and Cupar, a considerable army was soon assembled, which assaulted Crail, broke down the altars and images, and proceeded thence to St Andrew’s, where they levelled the Franciscan and Dominican monasteries to the ground. The Queen immediately gave orders to occupy Cupar, with the intention of attacking them at St Andrew’s, but in this she was anticipated, an army equal to her own having occupied the place two days before. Finding herself too weak to encounter them in the field, she had again recourse to negotiation; but mindful of her former duplicity, the Protestants would only agree to a truce for eight days, by which the Duke of Chatelherault and D’Ossal became bound to transport all the French soldiers to the other side of the Frith, and send commissioners to St Andrew’s with full powers to conclude a formal treaty of peace.

Several days elapsed without any person appearing on the part of the queen, and suspecting some new plan to entrap them, the Protestants, after concerting measures to expel the French garrison from Perth, wrote to her Majesty, complaining that the terms of the first treaty were still unfulfilled, and begging her to withdraw her troops from that city in conformity with its stipulations. Their letters remaining unnoticed, they laid siege to Perth, which surrendered, after a feeble resistance, on the 26th June, 1559.

Being informed that the Queen resolved to seize Stirling, and cut off the communication between the reformers on the opposite sides of the Frith, by a rapid march they frustrated her plans, and in three days, after they had made themselves masters of Perth, the victorious reformers entered Edinburgh. The Queen on their approach retired to Dunbar,—where she amused them with hopes of an accommodation, in the expectation of being joined with reinforcements from France. Intelligence, in the meantime, was received of the death of the French king, which, while it was favourable to the cause of the reformers, rendered their leaders more negligent and secure. Numbers of them left the city on their private affairs, their followers were obliged to disperse for want of money, and those who did remain were without discipline or restraint. The Queen receiving advice of this, by means of her spies, marched with all the forces she could muster directly to Edinburgh, and possessed herself, on the 25th of July, of Leith. She consented, however, to a truce, to continue till the 5th January, 1560, by which liberty of conscience was secured; Popery was not to be established again where it had been suppressed, the reformers were not to be hindered from preaching wherever they might happen to be, and no garrison was to be stationed within the city. These terms were preserved till she received the expected reinforcements, when she fortified Leith, from which all the efforts of the reformers were unable to dislodge her troops. A mutiny also breaking out among their soldiers for want of pay, and having been defeated in two skirmishes with the French troops, it was resolved, by a majority of the lords of the congregation, to retire to Stirling. This rash step was productive of great terror and confusion, and contrary to the advice of Knox; who, notwithstanding, followed the fortunes of his friends, animating and reviving them by his discourses, and exhorting them to constancy in the good cause.

At a meeting held shortly after their arrival at Stirling, it was resolved, to despatch William Maitland, who had lately deserted the Queen’s party to England, to implore the assistance of Queen Elizabeth, and a treaty was at last concluded, by which a body of troops was sent to their assistance. These being joined by most of the Scottish nobility, a peace was established on the 8th July, 1560, by which the reformed religion was fully established in Scotland.

On the abolition of Popery, the form of church goverment establishment in Scotland was, upon the model of the church at Geneva, warmly recommended to his countrymen by Knox, as being farthest removed from all similarity to the Romish church; and at his suggestion, likewise, the country was divided into twelve districts, for the more effectually propagating the doctrines of the Reformation, of which Edinburgh was assigned to his care. Knox, assisted by his brethren afterwards composed a confession of Faith, and compiled the first books of discipline for the government of the church. These were ratified by a convention of Estates, held in the beginning of the following year (1571), and an act passed prohibiting mass and abolishing the authority of the Pope.

On the return of Mary, daughter of Mary of Guise, from France, and so well known afterwards throughout all Europe for her beauty, her accomplishments, and her misfortunes, after the death of her husband Francis II. the celebration of mass in the chapel royal excited a great tumult, many crying out, “The idolatrous papist shall die the death, according to God’s law;” and John Knox, in a sermon preached the Sunday following after showing the judgments inflicted on nations for idolatry, added, “one mass is more fearful to me than if ten thousand armed enemies were landed in any part of the realm, of purpose to suppress the whole religion.” In consequence of this language he was sent for by the queen, who accused him of endeavouring to excite her subjects to rebellion, of having written against her lawful authority, and of being the cause of great sedition. To this he answered, among other things, “that if to teach the word of God in sincerity, if to rebute idolatry, and to will a people to worship God according to his word, be to raise subjects against their princes, then cannot I be excused; for it hath pleased God in his mercy to make me one amongst many to disclose unto this realm the vanity of the papistical religion.—And touching that book, that seemeth so highly to offend your majesty, it is most certain that if I wrote it I am content that all the learned of the land should judge of it. My hope is, that, so long as ye defile not your hands with the blood of the saints of God, that neither I nor that book shall either hurt you or your authority; for, in very deed, Madam, that book was written most especially against that wicked Mary of England.” To a question by the Queen, if subjects, having power, may resist their princes? He boldly answered they might, “if princes do exceed their bounds.” The following part of the dialogue will give a good idea of the character of Knox, and the freedom of his speech: Speaking of the church, the Queen observed, “but ye are not the church of Rome, for I think it is the true church of God.” “Your will, Madam,” said he, “is no reason; neither doth your thought make that Roman harlot to be the immaculate spouse of Jesus Christ. And wonder not, Madam, that I call Rome an harlot, for that church is altogether polluted with all kinds of spiritual fornication, as well in doctrine as in matters.” He had afterwards two other conferences with the queen, at the last of which she burst into tears, crying out, “Never prince was used as I am.”

Knox’s situation became very critical in April, 1571, when Kircaldy received the Hamiltons, with their forces, into the castle. Their inveteracy against him was so great, that his friends were obliged to watch his house during the night. They proposed forming a guard for the protection of his person when he went abroad; but the governor of the castle forbade this, as implying a suspicion of him, and offered to send Melvil, one of his officers, to conduct him to and from church. “He wold gif the woulf the wedder to keip,” says Bannatyne. Induced by the importunity of the citizens, Kircaldy applied to the Duke and his party for a special protection to Knox; but they refused to pledge their word for his safety, because “there were many rascals and others among them who loved him not, that might do him harm without their knowledge.” Intimations were often given him of threatenings against his life; and one evening, a musket ball was fired in at his window, and lodged in the roof of the apartment in which he was sitting. It happened that he sat at the time in a different part of the room from that in which he had been accustomed to take his seat, otherwise the ball, from its direction, must have struck him. Alarmed by these circumstances, a deputation of the citizens, accompanied by his colleague, waited upon him, and renewed a request which they had formerly made, that he would remove from Edinburgh, to a place where his life would be in greater safety, until the Queen’s party should evacuate the town. But he refused to yield to them, apprehending that his enemies wished to intimidate him into flight, that they might carry on their designs more quietly, and then accuse him of cowardice. Being unable to persuade him by any other means, they at last had recourse to an argument which prevailed. Upon this he consented, “sore against his will,” to remove from the city.

In May, 1571, at the desire of his friends, and for greater security, he left that city for St Andrew’s, where he remained until the August following. The cause that forced him to change his residence having ceased to operate, at the express desire of his congregation he again returned, but could not long continue to preside over it, on account of the exhausted state of his health; and on the 9th November, abmitted Mr James Lawson, formerly professor of philosophy at Aberdeen, to be his successor.

From this time till the 24th of the same month, when he expired, about eleven o’clock at night, in the 67th year of his age; his principal employment was reading the Scriptures and conversing with his friends; and over his remains, which were accompanied to the churchyard by the Earl of Morton, the Regent, and a number of other noblemen, and people of all ranks, his lordship pronounced the following eulogium: “Here lies a man, who in his life never feared the face of man; who hath been often threatened with dag and dagger, but yet hath ended his days in peace and honour.”

FINIS.

HISTORY

OF THE LIFE & SUFFERINGS

OF THE

REV. JOHN WELCH,

SOMETIME MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL AT AYR.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

LIFE OF JOHN WELCH.

Mr. John Welch was born a gentleman, his father being laird of Colieston, (an estate rather competent, than large, in the shire of Nithsdale) about the year 1570, the dawning of our reformation being then but dark. He was a rich example of grace and mercy, but the night went before the day, being a most hopeless extravagant boy: it was not enough to him, frequently when he was a young stripling to run away from the school and play the truant; but after he had passed his grammar, and was come to be a youth, he left the school, and his father’s house, and went and joined himself to the thieves on the English border, who lived by robbing the two nations, and amongst them he stayed till he spent a suit of clothes. Then he was clothed only with rags, the prodigal’s misery brought him to the prodigal’s resolution, so he resolved to return to his father’s house, but durst not adventure, till he should interpose a reconciler. So in his return homeward, he took Dumfries in his way where he had an aunt, one Agnes Forsyth, and with her he diverted some days, earnestly entreating her to reconcile him to his father. While he lurked in her house, his father came providentially to the house to salute his cousin, Mrs. Forsyth; and after they had talked a while, she asked him, whether he had ever heard any news of his son John; to her he replied with great grief, O cruel woman, how can you name his name to me? The first news I expect to hear of him, is, that he is hanged for a thief. She answered, many a profligate boy had become a virtuous man, and comforted him. He insisted upon his sad complaint, but asked whether she knew his lost son was yet alive. She answered, Yes, he was, and she hoped he should prove a better man than he was a boy, and with that she called upon him to come to his father. He came weeping and kneeled, beseeching his father, for Christ’s sake, to pardon his misbehaviour, and deeply engaged to be a new man. His father reproached him and threatened him. Yet, at length, by the boy’s tears, and Mrs. Forsyth’s importunities, he was persuaded to a reconciliation. The boy entreated his father to send him to the college, and there to try his behaviour, and if ever thereafter he should break, he said he should be content his father should disclaim him for ever: so his father carried him home, and put him to the college, and there he became a diligent student, of great expectation, and shewed himself a sincere convert, and so he proceeded to the ministry.

His first post in the ministry was at Selkirk, while he was yet very young, and the country rude; while he was there, his ministry was rather admired by some, than received by many; for he was always attended by the prophet’s shadow, the hatred of the wicked; yea, even the ministers of the country, were more ready to pick a quarrel with his person, than to follow his doctrine, as may appear to this day in their synodical records, where we find he had many to censure him, and only some to defend him; yet it was thought his ministry in that place was not without fruit, though he stayed but a short time there. Being a young man unmarried, he lodged himself in the house of one Mitchelhill, and took a young boy of his to be his bed-fellow, who to his dying day retained both a respect to Mr. Welch and his ministry, from the impressions Mr. Welch’s behaviour made upon his mind though but a child.

The special cause of his leaving Selkirk, was a profane gentleman in the country (one Scot of Headschaw, whose family is now extinct) but because Mr. Welch had either reproved him, or merely from hatred, Mr. Welch was most unworthily abused by the unhappy man, amongst the rest of the injuries he did him, this was one, Mr. Welch kept always two good horses for his use, and the wicked gentleman when he could do no more, either with his own hand, or his servants, cut off the rumps of the two innocent beasts, upon which followed such effusion of blood, that they both died, which Mr. Welch did much resent, and such base usage as this persuaded him to listen to a call to the ministry at Kirkcudbright, which was his next post.

But when he was about to leave Selkirk, he could not find a man in all the town to transport his furniture, except one Ewart, who was at that time a poor young man, but master of two horses, with which he transported Mr. Welch’s goods, and so left him, but as he took his leave, Mr. Welch gave him his blessing, and a piece of gold for a token, exhorting him to fear God, and promised he should never want, which promise, providence made good through the whole course of his life, as was observed by all his neighbours.

At Kirkcudbright he stayed not long; but there he reaped a harvest of converts, which subsisted long after his departure, and were a part of Mr. Samuel Rutherfoord’s flock, though not his parish, while he was minister at Anwith: yet when his call to Ayr came to him, the people of the parish of Kirkcudbright never offered to detain him, so his transportation to Ayr was the more easy.

Mr. Welch was transported to Ayr in the year 1590, and there he continued till he was banished, there he had a very hard beginning, but a good ending; for when he came first to the town, the country was so wicked, and the hatred of godliness so great, that there could not be found one in all the town, that would let him a house to dwell in, so he was constrained to accommodate himself in the best he might, in a part of a gentleman’s house for a time, the gentleman’s name was John Stewart, he was an eminent Christian, and a great assistant of Mr. Welch.

And when he had first taken up his residence in that town, the place was so divided into factions, and filled with bloody conflicts, a man could hardly walk the streets with safety; wherefore Mr. Welch made it his first undertaking to remove the bloody quarrelings, but he found it a very difficult work; yet such was his earnestness to pursue his design, that many times he would rush betwixt two parties of men fighting, even in the midst of blood and wounds.

His manner was, after he had ended a skirmish amongst his neighbours, and reconciled these bitter enemies, to cause them to cover a table upon the street, and there brought the enemies together, and begining with prayer he persuaded them to protest themselves friends, and then to eat and drink together, then last of all, he ended the work with singing a psalm: after the rude people began to observe his example, and listen to his heavenly doctrine, he came quickly to that respect amongst them that he became not only a necessary counsellor, without whose counsel they would do nothing, but an example to imitate, and so he buried the bloody quarrels.

He gave himself wholly to ministerial exercises, he preached once every day, he prayed the third part of his time, was unwearied in his studies, and for a proof of this, it was found among his papers, that he had abridged Suarez’s metaphysics, when they came first to his hand, even when he was well stricken in years. By all which, it appears, that he has not only been a man of great diligence but also of a strong and robust natural constitution, otherwise he had never endured the fatigue.

But if his diligence was great, so it is doubted whether his sowing in painfulness, or his harvest in his success was greatest; for if either his spiritual experiences in seeking the Lord, or his fruitfulness in converting souls be considered, they will be found unparalleled in Scotland: and many years after Mr. Welch’s death, Mr. David Dickson, at that time a flourishing minister at Irvine, was frequently heard to say, when people talked to him of the success of his ministry, that the grape gleanings in Ayr, in Mr. Welch’s time, were far above the vintage of Irvine, in his own. Mr. Welch, in his preaching, was spiritual and searching, his utterance tender and moving; he did not much insist upon scholastic purposes, he made no shew of his learning. I once heard one of his hearers say, That no man could hear him and forbear weeping, his conveyance was so affecting. There is a large volume of his sermons, now in Scotland, wherein he makes it appear, his learning was not behind his other virtues: this also appears in another piece, called Dr. Welch’s Armagaddon, printed, I suppose, in France, wherein he gives his meditation upon the enemies of the church, and their destruction; but the piece itself is rarely to be found.

Sometimes before he went to sermon, he would send for his elders, and tell them, he was afraid to go to pulpit because he found himself sore deserted; and thereafter desire one or more to pray, and then he would venture to pulpit. But, it was observed, this humbling exercise used ordinarily to be followed, with a flame of extraordinary assistance: so near neighbours are many times contrary dispositions and frames. He would many times retire to the church of Ayr, which was at some distance from the town, and there spend the whole night in prayer: for he used to allow his affections full expression, and prayed not only with audible, but sometimes, loud voice, nor did he irk, in that solitude, all the night over, which hath, it may be, occasioned the contemptible slander of some malicious enemies, who were so bold as to call him no less than a witch.

There was in Ayr, before he came to it, an aged man a minister of the town, called Porterfield, the man was judged no bad man, for his personal inclinations, but so easy a disposition, that he used many times to go too great a length with his neighbours in many dangerous practices; and amongst the rest, he used to go to the bow-butts and archery, on Sabbath afternoon, to Mr. Welch’s great dissatisfaction. But the way he used to reclaim him, was not bitter severity, but this gentle policy; Mr. Welch together with John Stewart, and Hugh Kennedy, his two intimate friends, used to spend the Sabbath afternoon in religious conference and prayer, and to this exercise they invited Mr. Porterfield, which he could not refuse, by which means he was not only diverted from his former sinful practice, but likewise brought to a more watchful, and edifying behaviour in his course of life.

He married Elizabeth Knox, daughter to the famous Mr. John Knox, minister at Edinburgh, the apostle of Scotland, and she lived with him from his youth till his death. By her I have heard he had three sons: the first was called Dr. Welch, a doctor of medicine, who was killed in the low countries, and of him I never heard more. Another son he had most lamentably lost at sea, for when the ship in which he was embarked was sunk, he swam to a rock in the sea, but starved there for want of necessary food and refreshment, and when sometime afterward his body was found upon the rock, they found him dead in a praying posture upon his bended knees, with his hands stretched out, and this was all the satisfaction his friends and the world had upon his lamentable death, so bitter to his friends. Another he had who was heir to his father’s grace and blessings, and this was Mr. Josias Welch, minister at Temple-Patrick in the north of Ireland, commonly called the Cock of the Conscience by the people of that country, because of his extraordinary wakening and rousing gift: he was one of that blest society of ministers, which wrought that unparalleled work in the north of Ireland, about the year 1636, but was himself a man most sadly exercised with doubts about his own salvation all his time, and would ordinarily say, That ministers was much to be pitied, who was called to comfort weak saints and had no comfort himself. He died in his youth, and left for his successor, Mr. John Welch minister at Iron-Gray in Galloway, the place of his grandfather’s nativity. What business this made in Scotland, in the time of the late Episcopal persecution, for the space of twenty years, is known to all Scotland. He maintained his dangerous post of preaching the gospel upon the mountains of Scotland, notwithstanding of the threatnings of the state, the hatred of the bishops, the price set upon his head, and all the fierce industry of his cruel enemies. It is well known that bloody Claverhouse upon secret information from his spies, that Mr. John Welch was to be found at some lurking place at forty miles distance, would make all that long journey in one winter’s night, that he might catch him, but when he came he always missed his prey. I never heard of a man that endured more toil, adventured upon more hazards, escaped so much hazard, not in the world. He used to tell his friends who counselled him to be more cautious, and not to hazard himself so much, That he firmly believed dangerous undertakings would be his security, and when ever he should give over that course and retire himself, his ministry should come to an end; which accordingly came to pass, for when after Bothwell bridge, he retired to London, the Lord called him by death, and there he was honourably buried, not far from the king’s palace.

But to return to our old Mr. Welch; as the duty wherein he abounded and excelled most was prayer, so his greatest attainments fell that way. He used to say, He wondered how a Christian could lie in bed all night, and not rise to pray, and many times he watched. One night he rose from his wife, and went into the next room, where he stayed so long at secret prayer, that his wife fearing he might catch cold, was constrained to rise and follow him, and as she hearkened, she heard him speak as by interrupted sentences, Lord wilt thou not grant me Scotland, and after a pause, Enough, Lord, enough, and so she returned to her bed, and he following her, not knowing she had heard him, but when he was by her, she asked him what he meant by saying, Enough, Lord, enough. He shewed himself dissatisfied with her curiosity, but told her, he had been wrestling with the Lord for Scotland, and found there was a sad time at hand, but that the Lord would be gracious to a remnant. This was about the time when bishops first overspread the land, and corrupted the church. This was more wonderful I am to relate, I heard once an honest minister, who was a parishioner of Mr. Welch many a day, say, ‘That one night as he watched in his garden very late, and some friends waiting upon him in his house and wearying because of his long stay, one of them chanced to open a window toward the place where he walked, and saw clearly a strange light surrounding him, and heard him speak strange words about his spiritual joy,’ I do neither add nor alter, I am the more induced to believe this that I have heard from as good a hand as any in Scotland, that a very godly man, though not a minister, after he had spent a whole night in a country house, in the muir, declared confidently, he saw such an extraordinary light as this himself, which was to him both matter of wonder and astonishment. But though Mr. Welch had upon the account of his holiness, abilities, and success, acquired among his subdued people, a very great respect, yet was he never in such admiration, as after the great plague which raged in Scotland in his time.

And one cause was this: The magistrates of Ayr, forasmuch as this town alone was free, and the country about infected, thought fit to guard the ports with sentinels, and watchmen; and one day two travelling merchants, each with a pack of cloth upon a horse, came to the town desiring entrance that they might sell their goods producing a pass from the magistrates of the town whence they came which was at that time sound and free; yet not withstanding all this the sentinels stopt them till the magistrates were called; and when they came, they would do nothing without their minister’s advice: so Mr. Welch was called, and his opinion asked; he demurred, and putting off his hat with his eyes toward heaven for a pretty space, though he uttered no audible words, yet continued in a praying gesture: and after a little space told the magistrates they would do well to discharge these travellers their town, affirming with great asseveration, the plague was in their packs, so the magistrates commanded them to be gone, and they went to Cumnock, a town some twenty miles distant, and there sold their goods, which kindled such an infection in that place, that the living were hardly able to bury their dead. This made the people begin to think Mr. Welch as an oracle. Yet as he walked with God, and kept close with him, so he forgot not man, for he used frequently to dine abroad with such of his friends, as he thought were persons with whom he might maintain the communion of the saints; and once in the year he used always to invite all his familiars in the town to a treat in his house, where there was a banquet of holiness and sobriety.

And now the scene of his life begins for to alter; but before his blessed sufferings, he had this strange warning.

One night he rose from his wife, and went into garden, as his custom was, but stayed longer than ordinary, which troubled his wife, who, when he returned, expostulated with him very hard, for his staying so long to wrong his health; he bid her be quiet, for it should be well with them. But he knew well, he should never preach more at Ayr; and accordingly before the next Sabbath, he was carried prisoner to Blackness castle. After that, he, with many others were brought before the council of Scotland, at Edinburgh, to answer for their rebellion and contempt, in holding a general assembly, not authorised by the king. And because they declined the secret council, as judges competent in causes purely spiritual, such as the nature and constitution of a general assembly is, they were first remitted to the prison at Blackness, and other places. And thereafter, six of the most considerable of them, were brought under night from Blackness to Linlithgow before the criminal judges, to answer an accusation of high treason, at the instance of Sir Thomas Hamilton, king’s advocate, for declining, as he alledged, the king’s lawful authority, in refusing to admit the council judges competent in the cause of the nature of church judicatories; and after their accusation, and answer was read, by the verdict of a jury of very considerable gentlemen, condemned as guilty of high treason, the punishment continued till the king’s pleasure should be known, and thereafter their punishment was made banishment, that the cruel sentence might someway seem to soften their severe punishment as the king had contrived it.

But before he left Scotland, some remarkable passages in his behaviour are to be remembered. And first when the dispute about church-government began to warm; as he was walking upon the street of Edinburgh, betwixt two honest citizens, he told them, they had in their town two great ministers, who were no great friends to Christ’s cause, presently in controversy, but it should be seen, the world should never hear of their repentance. The two men were Mr. Patrick Galloway, and Mr. John Hall; and accordingly it came to pass, for Mr. Patrick Galloway died easing himself upon his stool; and Mr. John Hall, being at that time in Leith, and his servant woman having left him alone in his house while she went to the market, he was found dead all alone at her return.

He was sometime prisoner in Edinburgh castle before he went into exile, where one night sitting at supper with the lord Ochiltry, who was an uncle to Mr. Welch’s wife, as his manner was, he entertained the company with godly and edifying discourse, which was well received by all the company save only one debauched popish young gentleman, who sometimes laughed, and sometimes mocked and made faces; whereupon Mr. Welch brake out into a sad abrupt charge upon all the company to be silent, and observe the work of the Lord upon that prophane mocker, which they should presently behold; upon which immediately the prophane wretch sunk down and died beneath the table, but never returned to life again, to the great astonishment of all the company.

Another wonderful story they tell of him at the same time; the lord Ochiltry the captain, being both sons to the good lord Ochiltry, and Mr. Welch’s uncle in law, was indeed very civil to Mr. Welch, but being for a long time, through the multitude of affairs, kept from visiting Mr. Welch in his chamber, as he was one day walking in the court, and espying Mr. Welch at his chamber window asked him kindly how he did, and if in any thing he could serve him. Mr. Welch answered him, He would earnestly entreat his lordship, being at that time to go to court, to petition king James in his name, that he might have liberty to preach the gospel; which my lord promised to do. Mr. Welch answered, my lord, both because you are my kinsman, and other reasons, I would earnestly entreat, and obtest you not to promise except you faithfully perform. My lord answered, He would faithfully perform his promise; and so went for London. But though at his first arrival he was really purposed to present the petition to the king, but when he found the king in such a rage against the godly ministers, that he durst not at that time present it, so he thought fit to delay it, and thereafter fully forgot it.

The first time that Mr. Welch saw his face after his return from court, he asked him what he had done with his petition. My lord answered he, had presented it to the king, but that the king was in so great a rage against the ministers at that time, he believed it had been forgotten, for he had gotten no answer. Nay said Mr. Welch to him, My lord you should not lye to God, and to me, for I know you never delivered it, though I warned you to take heed not to undertake it, except you would perform it; but because you have dealt so unfaithfully, remember God shall take from you both estate and honours, and give them to your neighbour in your own time: which accordingly came to pass, both his estate and honours were in his own time transmitted to James Stewart son to captain James, who was indeed a cadet, but not the lineal heir of the family.

While he was detained prisoner in Edinburgh castle, his wife used for the most part to stay in his company, but upon a time fell into a longing to see her family in Ayr, to which with some difficulty he yielded; but when she was to take her journey, he strictly charged her not to take the ordinary way to her own house, when she came to Ayr, nor to pass by the bridge through the town, but to pass the river above the bridge, and so get the way to her own house, and not to come into the town, for, said he, before you come thither, you shall find the plague broken out in Ayr, which accordingly came to pass.

The plague was at that time very terrible, and he being necessarily separate from his people, it was to him the more grievous; but when the people of Ayr came to him to bemoan themselves, his answer was, that Hugh Kennedy, a godly gentleman in their town, should pray for them, and God should hear him. This counsel they accepted, and the gentleman convening a number of the honest citizens, prayed fervently for the town, as he was a mighty wrestler with God, and accordingly after that the plague decreased.

Now the time is come he must leave Scotland, and never to see it again, so upon the seventh of November 1606 in the morning, he with his neighbours took ship at Leith, and though it was but two o’clock in the morning, many were waiting on with their afflicted families, to bid them farewell. After prayer, they sung the xxiii psalm, and so set sail for the south of France, and landed in the river of Bourdeaux. Within fourteen weeks after his arrival, such was the Lord’s blessing upon his diligence, he was able to preach in French, and accordingly was speedily called to the ministry, first in one village, then in another; one of them was Nerac, and thereafter settled in Saint Jean d’ Angely, a considerable walled town, and there he continued the rest of the time he sojourned in France, which was about sixteen years. When he began to preach, it was observed by some of his hearers, that while he continued in the doctrinal part of his sermon, he spoke very correct French, but when he came to his application and when his affections kindled, his fervour made him sometimes neglect the accuracy of the French construction: but there were godly young men who admonished him of this, which he took in very good part, so for preventing mistakes of that kind, he desired the young gentlemen, when they perceived him beginning to decline, to give him a sign, and the sign was, that they were both to stand up upon their feet, and thereafter he was more exact in his expression through his whole sermon; so desirous was he, not only to deliver good matter, but to recommend it in the neat expression.

There were many times persons of great quality in his auditory, before whom he was just as bold as ever he had been in a Scots village; which moved Mr. Boyd of Trochrig once to ask him, (after he had preached before the university of Samure with such boldness and authority, as if he had been before the meanest congregation) how he could be so confident among strangers, and persons of such quality! to which he answered, That he was so filled with the dread of God, he had no apprehension from man at all; and this answer, said Mr. Boyd, did not remove my admiration, but rather increased it.

There was in his house amongst many others, who tabled with him for good education, a young gentleman of great quality, and suitable expectations, and this was the heir of the lord Ochiltry, who was captain of the castle of Edinburgh. This young nobleman, after he had gained very much upon Mr. Welch’s affections, fell sick of a grievous sickness, and after he had been long wasted with it, closed his eyes, and expired as dying men used to do, so to the apprehension and sense of all spectators, he was no more but a carcase, and was therefore taken out of his bed, and laid upon a pallat on the floor, that his body might be the more conveniently dressed, as dead bodies used to be. This was to Mr. Welch a very great grief, and therefore he stayed with the young man’s dead body full three hours, lamenting over him with great tenderness. After twelve hours, the friends brought in a coffin, whereunto they desired the corps to be put, as the custom is: but Mr. Welch desired, that for the satisfaction of his affections, they would forbear the youth for a time, which they granted, and returned not till twenty four hours, after his death, were expired; then they returned, with great importunity the corps might be coffined, that it might be speedily buried, the weather being extremely hot; yet he persisted in his request, earnestly begging them to excuse him for once more; so they left the youth upon his pallat for full thirty six hours: but even after all that, though he was urged, not only with great earnestness, but displeasure, they were constrained to forbear for twelve hours yet more; and after forty eight hours were past, Mr. Welch was still where he was, and then his friends perceived that he believed the young man was not really dead, but under some apoplectic fit, and therefore proponed to him for his satisfaction, that trial should be made upon his body by doctors and chirurgeons, if possibly any spark of life might be found in him, and with this he was content: so the physicians are set on work, who pinched him with pincers in the fleshy parts of his body, and twisted a bow string about his head with great force, but no sign of life appearing in him, so the physicians pronounced him stark dead, and then there was no more delay to be desired; yet Mr. Welch begged of them once more, that they would but step into the next room for an hour or two, and leave him with the dead youth, and this they granted: Then Mr. Welch fell down before the pallat, and cried to the Lord with all his might, for the last time and sometimes looked upon the dead body, continuing in wrestling with the Lord till at length the dead youth opened his eyes, and cried out to Mr. Welch whom he distinctly knew, O Sir, I am all whole, but my head and legs: and these were the places they had sore hurt, with their pinching.

When Mr. Welch perceived this, he called upon his friends, and shewed them the dead young man restored to life again, to their great astonishment. And this young nobleman, though he lost the estate of Ochiltry, lived to acquire a great estate in Ireland, and was lord Castlestewart, and a man of such excellent parts, that he was courted by the earl of Stafford to be a counsellor in Ireland, which he refused to be, and then he engaged, and continued for all his life, not only in honour and power, but in the profession and practice of godliness, to the great comfort of the country where he lived. This story the nobleman communicated to his friends in Ireland, and from them I had it.

While Mr. Welch was minister in one of these French villages, upon an evening a certain popish friar travelling through the country, because he could not find lodging in the whole village, addressed himself to Mr. Welch’s house for one night. The servants acquainted their master and he was content to receive this guest. The family had supped before he came, and so the servants convoyed the friar to his chamber, and after they had made his supper, they left him to his rest. There was but a timber partition betwixt him and Mr. Welch, and after the friar had slept his first sleep, he was surprized with the hearing of a silent, but constant whispering noise, at which he wondered very much, and was not a little troubled with it.

The next morning he walked in the fields, where he chanced to meet with a country man, who saluting him because of his habit, asked him where he lodged that night? The friar answered he had lodged with the hugenot minister. Then the country man asked him what entertainment he had? The friar answered, Very bad; for, said he, I always held there were devils haunting these ministers houses, and I am persuaded there was one with me this night, for I heard a continual whisper all the night over, which I believe was no other thing, than the minister and the devil conversing together. The country man told him, he was much mistaken, and that it was nothing else, but the minister at his night prayer. O, said the friar, does the minister pray any? Yes, more than any man in France, answered the country man, and if you please to stay another night with him you may be satisfied. The friar got home to Mr. Welch’s house, and pretending indisposition, entreated another night’s lodging, which was granted him.

Before dinner, Mr. Welch come from his chamber, and made his family exercise, according to his custom. And first he sung a psalm, then read a portion of scripture, and discoursed upon it, thereafter he prayed with great fervour, as his custom was, to all which the friar was an astonished witness. After the exercise they went to dinner, where the friar was very civilly entertained, Mr. Welch, forbearing all questions and dispute with him for the time; when the evening came, Mr. Welch made his exercise as he had done in the morning, which occasioned yet more wondering in the friar, and after supper to bed they all went; but the friar longed much to know what the night whisper was, and in that he was soon satisfied, for after Mr. Welch’s first sleep, the noise began, and then the friar resolved to be sure what it was, so he crept silently to Mr. Welch’s chamber-door, and there he heard not only the sound, but the words distinctly, and communications betwixt man and God, and such as he knew not had been in the world. Upon the next morning, as soon as Mr. Welch was ready, the friar went to him, and told him, that he had been bred in ignorance, and lived in darkness all his time, but now he was resolved to adventure his soul with Mr. Welch, and thereupon declared himself Protestant: Mr. Welch welcomed him and encouraged him, and he continued a constant protestant to his dying day. This story I had from a godly minister, who was bred in Mr. Welch’s house, when in France.

When Lewis XIII. king of France, made war upon the Protestants there, because of their religion, the city of St. Jean d’ Angely, was by him and his royal army besieged, and brought into extreme danger, Mr. Welch was minister in the town, and mightily encouraged the citizens to hold out, assuring them, God should deliver them. In the time of the siege a cannon ball pierced the bed where he was lying, upon which he got up, but would not leave the room, till he had by solemn prayer acknowledged his deliverance. During the siege, the townsmen made stout defence, until one of the king’s gunners planted a great gun so conveniently upon a rising ground, that therewith he could command the whole wall, upon which the townsmen made their greatest defence. Upon this they were constrained to forsake the whole wall in great terror, and though they had several guns planted upon the wall, no man durst undertake to manage them. This being told Mr. Welch with great affrightment, he notwithstanding encouraged them still to hold out, and running to the wall himself, found the cannonier, who was a Burgundian, near the wall, him he entreated to mount the wall, promising to assist him in person, so to the wall they got. The cannonier told Mr. Welch, that either they behoved to dismount the gun upon the rising ground, or else they were surely lost; Mr. Welch desired him to aim well, and he should serve him, and God would help him; so the gunner falls a scouring his piece, and Mr. Welch runs to the powder to fetch him a charge; but as soon as he was returning, the king’s gunner fired his piece, which carried both the powder and ladle out of Mr. Welch’s hands, which yet did not discourage him, for having left the ladle, he filled his hat with powder, wherewith the gunner loaded his piece, and dismounted the king’s gun at the first shot, so the citizens returned to their post of defence.

This discouraged the king so, that he sent to the citizens to offer them fair conditions, which were, That they should enjoy the liberty of their religion, their civil privileges, and their walls should not be demolished: only the king desired for his honours that he might enter the city with his servants in a friendly manner. This the city thought fit to grant, and the king with a few more entered the city for a short time.

But within a short time thereafter the war was renewed, and then Mr. Welch told the inhabitants of the city, that now their cup was full, and they should no more escape; which accordingly came to pass, for the king took the town, and as soon as ever it fell into his hand, he commanded Vitry, the captain of his guard, to enter the town, and preserve his minister from all danger; and then were horses and waggons provided for Mr. Welch, to remove him and his family for Rochel, where he remained till he obtained liberty to come to England, and his friends made hard suit, that he might be permitted to return to Scotland; because the physicians declared there was no other way to preserve his life, but by the freedom he might have in his native air. But to this king James would never yield, protesting he should never be able to establish his beloved bishops in Scotland, if Mr. Welch were permitted to return thither; so he languished at London a considerable time, his disease was judged by some to have a tendency to a sort of leprosy; physicians say he had been poisoned; a langour he had, together with a great weakness in his knees, caused by his continual kneeling at prayer: by which it came to pass, that though he was able to move his knees, and to walk, yet he was wholly insensible in them, and the flesh became hard like a sort of horn. But when in the time of his weakness, he was desired to remit somewhat of his excessive painfulness, his answer was, He had his life of God, and therefore it should be spent for him.

His friends importuned king James very much, that if he might not return to Scotland, at least he might have liberty to preach at London, which king James would never grant, till he heard all hopes of life were past, and then he allowed him liberty to preach, not fearing his activity.

Then as soon as ever he heard he might preach, he greedily embraced this liberty, and having access to a lecturer’s pulpit, he went and preached both long and fervently: which was the last performance of his life; for after he had ended his sermon, he returned to his chamber, and within two hours quietly and without pain, he resigned his spirit into his Maker’s hands, and was buried near Mr. Deering, the famous English divine, after he had lived little more than fifty-two years.

FINIS

THE

LIFE

AND

PROPHECIES,

OF

ALEXANDER PEDEN

GLASGOW;

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

LIFE AND PROPHECIES

OF

ALEXANDER PEDEN.

That most excellent minister of the gospel, and faithful defender of the Presbyterian Religion, MR. ALEXANDER PEDEN, was born in the parish of Sorn, near Ayr. After his course at the College, he was sometime school-master, precentor, and session-clerk to Mr. John Guthrie, minister of the gospel at Tarbolton. When he was about to enter on the ministry, a young woman fell with child, in adultery, to a servant in the house where she stayed; when she found herself to be so, she told the father thereof, who said, I’ll run for it, and go to Ireland, father it upon Mr. Peden, he has more to help you to bring it up (he having a small heritage) than I have. The same day that he was to get his licence, she came in before the Presbytery and said, I hear you are to licence Mr. Peden, to be a minister; but do it not, for I am with child to him. He being without at the time, was called in by the moderator; and being questioned about it, he said, I am utterly surprised, I cannot speak; but let none entertain an ill thought of me, for I am utterly free of it, and God will vindicate me in his own time and way. He went home, and walked at a water-side upwards of 24 hours, and would neither eat nor drink, but said, I have got what I was seeking, and I will be vindicated, and that poor unhappy lass will pay dear for it in her life, and will make a dismal end; and for this surfeit of grief that she hath given me, there shall never one of her sex come into my bosom; and, accordingly he never married. There are various reports of the way that he was vindicated; some say, the time she was in child-birth, Mr. Guthrie charged her to give account who was the father of that child, and discharged the women to be helpful to her, until she did it: some say, that she confessed: others, that she remained obstinate. Some of the people when I made enquiry about it in that country-side, affirmed, that the Presbytery had been at all pains about it, and could get no satisfaction, they appointed Mr. Guthrie to give a full relation of the whole before the congregation, which he did; and the same day the father of the child being present, when he heard Mr. Guthrie begin to speak, he stood up, and desired him to halt, and said, I am the father of that child, and I desired her to father it on Mr. Peden, which has been a great trouble of conscience to me; and I could not get rest till I came home to declare it. However it is certain, that after she was married, every thing went cross to them; and they went from place to place, and were reduced to great poverty. At last she came to that same spot of ground where he stayed upwards of 24 hours, and made away with herself!

2. After this he was three years settled minister at New Glenluce in Galloway; and when he was obliged, by the violence and tyranny of that time, to leave that parish, he lectured upon Acts xx. 17. to the end, and preached upon the 31st. verse in the forenoon, ‘Therefore watch, and remember that for the space of three years I ceased not to warn every one, night and day, with tears:’ Asserting that he had declared the whole counsel of God, and had kept nothing back and protested that he was free of the blood of all souls. And, in the afternoon he preached on the 32d verse, ‘And now, brethren, I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them that are sanctified.’ Which was a weeping day in that kirk; the greatest part could not contain themselves. He many times requested them to be silent; but they sorrowed most of all when he told them that they should never see his face in that pulpit again. He continued until night; and when he closed the pulpit-door he knocked hard upon it three times with his Bible, saying three times over, I arrest in my Master’s name, that never one enter there, but such as come in by the door, as I did. Accordingly, neither curate nor indulged minister ever entered that pulpit, until after the revolution, that a Presbyterian minister opened it.

3. After this he joined with that honest and zealous handful in the year 1666, that was broken at Pentland-hills, and came the length of Clyde with them, where he had a melancholy view of their end, and parted with them there. James Cubison, of Paluchbeaties, my informer, to whom he told this, he said to him, ‘Sir, you did well that parted with them, seeing you was persuaded they would fall and flee before the enemy.—Glory glory to God, that he sent me not to hell immediately! for I should have stayed with them though I should have been cut all in pieces.’

4. That night the Lord’s people fell, and fled before the enemy at Pentland-hills, he was in a friend’s house in Carrick, sixty miles from Edinburgh; his landlord seeing him mightily troubled enquired how it was with him; he said, ‘To-morrow I will speak with you,’ and desired some candle. That night he went to bed. The next morning calling early to his landlord, said, ‘I have sad news to tell you, our friends that were together in arms, appearing for Christ’s interest, are now broken, killed, taken, and fled every man.’—the truth of which was fully verified in about 48 hours thereafter.

5. After this, in June 1673, he was taken by Major Cockburn, in the house of Hugh Ferguson, of Knockdow, in Carrick, who constrained him to tarry all night. Mr. Peden told him that it would be a dear night to them both. Accordingly they were both carried prisoners to Edinburgh, Hugh Ferguson was fined in a thousand merks, for resetting, harbouring, and conversing with him. The Council ordered fifty pounds sterling to be paid to the Major out of the fines, and ordained him to divide twenty-five pounds sterling among the party that apprehended him. Some time after examination he was sent prisoner to the Bass, where, and at Edinburgh, he remained until December, 1668, that he was banished.

6. While prisoner in the Bass, one Sabbath-morning being about the public worship of God, a young lass, about 13 or 14 years of age, came to the chamber-door mocking with loud laughter: He said, ‘Poor thing, thou mocks and laughs at the worship of God, but ere long God shall write such a sudden, surprising judgment on thee, that shall stay thy laughing, and thou shalt not escape it.’ Very shortly after, she was walking upon the rock, and there came a blast of wind and sweeped her into the sea, where she perished. While prisoner there, one day walking upon the rock, some soldiers passing by him, one of them said, Devil take him. He said, ‘Fy, fy, poor man, thou knowest not what thou art saying; but thou wilt repent that.’—At which word the soldier stood astonished, and went to the guard distracted, crying aloud for Mr. Peden, saying, the devil would immediately take him away. He came to him again, and found him in his right mind under deep convictions of great guilt. The guard being to change, they desired him to go to his arms; he refused, and said, he would lift no arms against Jesus Christ his cause, and persecute his people, he had done that too long. The governor threatened him with death, to-morrow about ten of the clock; he confidently said, three times, though he should tear all his body in pieces, he should never lift arms that way. About three days after, the governor put him out of the garrison, setting him ashore. He having a wife and children, took a house in East Lothian, where he became a singular Christian. Mr. Peden told these astonishing passages to the foresaid John Cubison and others, who informed me.

7. When brought from the Bass to Edinburgh and sentence of banishment passed upon him, in Dec. 1678. and sixty more fellow-prisoners, for the same cause, to go to America, never to be seen in Scotland again, under the pain of death; after this sentence was past, he several times said, that the ship was not yet built that should take him and these prisoners to Virginia; or any other of the English plantations in America.—One James Kay, a solid and grave Christian, being one of them, who lives in or about the Water of Leith, told me, that Mr. Peden said to him, ‘James, when your wife comes in, let me see her;’ which he did.—After some discourse, he called for a drink, and when he sought a blessing, he said. ‘Good Lord, let not James Kay’s wife miss her husband, till thou return him to her in peace and safety; which we are sure will be sooner than either he or she is looking for.’ Accordingly, the same day-month that he parted with her at Leith, he came home to her at the Water of Leith.

8. When they were on shipboard at the Water of Leith, there was a report that the enemies were to send down thumbkins to keep them from rebelling; at the report of this, they were discouraged: Mr. Peden came above the deck and said, ‘Why are ye discouraged? You need not fear, there will neither thumbkins nor bootkins come here: lift up your hearts and heads, for the day of your redemption draweth near; if we were once at London, we will be set at liberty.’—And when sailing on the voyage, praying publicly, he said, ‘Lord, such is the enemies hatred at thee and malice at us for thy sake, that they will not let us stay in thy land of Scotland, to serve thee, though some of us have nothing but the canopy of thy heavens above us, and the earth to tread upon; but, Lord, we bless thy name, that will cut short our voyage, and frustrate thy enemies of their wicked design, that they will not get us where they intend; and some of us shall go richer home than we came from home.’ James Pride, who lived in Fife, an honest man, being one of them, he said many times, he could assert the truth of this, for he came safely home; and beside other things, he bought two cows: and before that, he never had one. I had these accounts both from the foresaid James Kay and Robert Punton, a known public man, worthy of all credit, who was also under the same sentence, and lived in the parish of Dalmeny, near Queensferry.

9. When they arrived at London, the skipper who received them at Leith, was to carry them no further. The skipper who was to receive them there, and carry them to Virginia, came to see them, they being represented to him as thieves, robbers, and evil-doers; but when he found they were all grave Christian men, banished for Presbyterian principles, he said he would sail the sea with none such. In this confusion: that the one skipper would not receive them, and the other would keep them no longer, being expensive to maintain them they were all set at liberty. Some reported that both skippers got compliments from friends at London; however, it is certain they were all set free without any imposition of bonds or oaths; and friends at London, and on their way homewards, through England shewed much kindness unto them.

10. That dismal day, June 22d. 1679, at Bothwel-bridge, that the Lord’s people fell, and fled before the enemy, he was forty miles distant, near the border, and kept himself retired until the middle of the day, that some friends said to him, ‘Sir, the people are waiting for sermon.’ He said, ‘Let the people go to their prayers; for me, I neither can nor will preach any this day; for our friends are fallen, and fled before the enemy at Hamilton; and they are hanging and hashing them down, and their blood is running like water!’

11. After this, he was preaching in Galloway: in the forenoon he prayed earnestly for the prisoners taken at and about Bothwel; but in the afternoon, when he began to pray for them, he halted and said, ‘Our friends at Edinburgh, the prisoners, have done something to save their lives that shall not do with them, for the sea-billows shall be many of their winding-sheets; and the few of them that escape, shall not be useful to God in their generation.’ Which was sadly verified thereafter. That which the greatest part of these prisoners did, was the taking of that bond, commonly called the Black Bond, after Bothwel, wherein they acknowledged their appearance in arms, for the defence of the gospel and their own lives, to be rebellion; and engaged themselves never to make any more opposition: upon the doing of which, these perfidious enemies promised them life and liberty. This with the cursed and subtile arguments and advices of ministers, who went into the New Yard, where they were prisoners, particularly Mr. Hugh Kennedy, Mr. William Crighton, Mr. Edward Jamieson, and Mr. George Johnston; these took their turn in the yard where the prisoners were, together with a letter that was sent from that Erastian meeting of ministers, met at Edinburgh in August 1679, for the acceptance of a third indulgence, with a cautionary bond. Notwithstanding of the enemies’ promise, and the unhappy advice of ministers not indulged, after they were ensnared in this foul compliance, they banished 255, whereof 205 perished in the Orkney-sea. This foul step, as some of them told, both in their life, and when dying, lay heavy upon them all their days; and that these unhappy arguments and advices of ministers, prevailed more with them than the enemies’ promise of life and liberty. In August 1679, fifteen of the Bothwel-prisoners got indictments of death. Mr. Edward Jamieson, a worthy Presbyterian minister, as Mr. Woodrow calls him, was sent from that Erastian meeting of ministers into the Tolbooth to these fifteen, who urged the lawfulness of taken the bond to save their lives; and the refusal of it would be a reflection to religion, and the cause they had appeared for, and a throwing away their lives, for which their friends would not be able to vindicate them. He prevailed with thirteen of them, which soured in the stomachs of some of those thirteen, and lay heavy upon them both in their life and death. The prisoners taken at and about the time of Bothwel, were reckoned about fifteen hundred. The faithful Mr. John Blackader did write to these prisoners, dissuading them from that foul compliance; and some worthy persons of these prisoners, whom he wrote to, said to me with tears, that they slighted his advice, and swallowed the unhappy advices of these ministers who were making peace with the enemies of God, and followed their foul steps, for which they would go mourning to their graves. I heard the same Mr. Blackader preach his last public sermon before falling into the enemies’ hands in the night-time in the fields, in the parish of Livingstone, upon the side of the Muir, at New-house, on the 23d. of March, after Bothwel, where he lectured upon Micah iv. from the 9th. verse, where he asserted, That the nearer the delivery, our pains and showers would come thicker and sorer upon us; and that we had been long in the fields, but ere we were delivered, we would go down to Babylon; that either Popery would overspread this land, or be at the breaking in upon us like on inundation of water. And preached upon that text, ‘Let no man be moved with these afflictions, for ye yourselves know, that ye are appointed thereunto.’ Where he insisted on what moving and shaking dispensations the Lord had exercised his people with in former ages, especially that man of God, that went to Jeroboam at Bethel, and delivered his commission faithfully, and yet was turned out of the way by an old lying prophet; how moving and stumbling the manner of his death was to all Israel! And earnestly requested us to take good heed to what ministers we heard, and what advice we followed. When he prayed, he blessed the Lord that he was free of both band and rope: and that he was as clearly willing to hold up the public blest standard of the gospel as ever: And said, The Lord rebuke, give repentance and forgiveness to these ministers that persuaded these prisoners to take that bond. For their perishing by sea was more moving and shocking to him, than if some thousands of them had been slain in the field. He was thereafter taken, the 6th. of April, by Major Johnston, in Edinburgh, and detained prisoner in the Bass, where he died. As the interest of Christ lay near his heart through his life, amongst his last words he said, The Lord will defend his own cause.

17. Shortly after that sad strode at Bothwel, he went to Ireland, but did not stay long at that time. In his travels through Galloway, he came to a house, and looking in the goodman’s face, he said, ‘They call you an honest man, but if you be so, you look not like it, you will not long keep that name, but will discover yourself to be what you are.’ And shortly after, he was made to flee for sheep-stealing. In that short time he was in Ireland, the Governor required of all Presbyterian ministers that were in Ireland, that they should give it under their hand, that they had no accession to the late rebellion at Bothwel-bridge, in Scotland, and that they did not approve of it; which the most part did; and sent Mr. Thomas Gowans, a Scotsman, and one Mr. Paton, from the north of Ireland to Dublin, to present it to the Lord Lieutenant: the which when Mr. Peden heard, he said, Mr. Gowans and his brother Mr. Paton are sent and gone the devil’s errand but God will arrest them by the gate. And accordingly, Mr. Gowans, by the way, was struck with a sore sickness, and Mr. Paton fell from his horse, and broke or crushed his leg; and both of them were detained beyond expectation. I had this account from some worthy Christians when I was in Ireland.

18. In the year 1682. he married John Brown in Kyle, at his own house in Priesthall, that singular Christian, upon Marion Weir. After marriage; he said to the bride, Marion, you have got a good man to be your husband, but you will not enjoy him long: prize his company, and keep linen by you for his winding-sheet, for you will need it when you are not looking for it, and it will be a bloody one. This came sadly to pass in the beginning of May, 1685, as afterwards shall appear.

19. After this, in the year 1682, he went to Ireland again, and came to the house of William Steel, in Glenwharry, in the county of Antrim; he enquired at Mrs. Steel if she wanted a servant for threshing victual? She said they did, and enquired what his wages were a-day, or a-week. He said, the common rate was a common rule; to which she assented.—At night he was put to bed, in the barn, with the servant-lad; and that night he spent in prayer and groaning, up and down the barn. On the morrow he threshed victual with the lad, and the next night he spent the same way. The second day, in the morning, the lad said to his mistress, this man sleeps none, but groans and prays all night; I get no sleep for him: he threshes very well, and is not sparing of himself, tho’ I think he has not been used with it, for he can do nothing to the botteling and ordering of the barn; and when I put the barn in order, he goes to such a place, and there he prays for the afflicted Church of Scotland, and names so many in the furnace.—He wrought the second day, and his mistress watched and overheard him praying, as the lad had said.—At night she desired her husband to enquire if he was a minister, which he did, and desired him to be free with him, and he should not only be no enemy to him, but a friend. Mr. Peden said, he was not ashamed of his office; and gave an account of his circumstances. He was no more set to work, nor to lie with the lad; and he staid a considerable time in that place, and was a blessed instrument in the conversion of some, and civilizing of others, though that place was noted for a wild rude people, and the fruit of his labour appears unto this day. There was a servant-lass in that house, that he could not look upon but with frowns: and sometimes, when at family-worship, he said, pointing to her with a frowning countenance. You come from the barn and from the byre reeking in your lusts, and sits down among us; we do not want you, nor none such. At last he said to William Steel and his wife, Put that unhappy lass from your house, for she will be a stain to your family, for she is with child, and will murder it, and will be punished for the same. Which accordingly came to pass, and she was burnt at Carrickfergus, which is the punishment of murderers of children there. I had this account from John Muirhead, who staid much in that house, and other Christian people, when in Ireland.

20. After this, he longed to be out of Ireland, through the fearful apprehensions of that dismal day of rebellion in Ireland, that came upon it four years thereafter, and that he might take part with the sufferers in Scotland. He came near the coast one morning: John Muirhead came to him; lying within a hedge: he said, Have you any news, John? John said, There is great fear of the Irish rising. He said, no, no, John, the time of their arising is not yet; but they will rise, and dreadful will it be at last. He was long detained waiting for a bark, not daring to go to public parts, but to some remote creek of the sea. Alexander Gordon of Kinstuir, in Galloway, had agreed with one, but Mr. Peden would not sail the sea with him, having some foresight of what he did prove afterwards.—In the beginning of August before this, Kinstuir was relieved at Enterken-path, going from Dumfries to Edinburgh prisoner; when the news of it came to Ireland, our Scots sufferers, their acquaintance, were glad of the news, especially that Kinstuir had escaped. Mr. Peden said, What means all this Kinstuiring?—There is some of them relieved there, that one of them is worth many of him; for ye will be ashamed of him ere all be done. Being in this strait, he said to Robert Wark, an old worthy Christian, worthy of credit, Robert, go and take such a man with you and the first Bark ye can find, compel them, for they will be like the dogs in Egypt, not one of them will move their tongue against you. Accordingly Robert and his comrade found it so and brought her to that secret place where he was. When Robert and his comrade came and told him, he was glad and very kind and free; but he seemed under a cloud at that time. He said lads, I have lost my prospect wherewith I was wont to look over to the bloody land, and tell you and others what enemies and friends were doing; the devil and I puddles and rides time-about upon one another: but if I were uppermost again, I shall ride hard, and spurgaw well. I have been praying for a swift passage over to the sinful land, come of us what will: and now Alexander Gordon is away with my prayer-wind; but it were good for the remnant in Scotland he never saw it; for as the Lord lives, he shall wound that interest ere he go off the stage.—This sadly came to pass in his life, and was a reproach to it at his death. A little before they came off, he baptised a child to John Maxwell, a Glasgow man, who was fled ever from the persecution: in his discourse before baptism, he burst out into a rapture, foretelling that black day that was to come upon Ireland, and sad days to Scotland, and after all there was to come good days. Mrs. Maxwell, or Mary Elphingston, the mother of the child, yet alive in Glasgow, told me this, That in the time he was asserting these things, she was thinking and wondering what ground of assurance he had for them, when he cried aloud shaking his hand at her, woman, thou art thinking and wondering within thyself, whether I be speaking these things out of the visions of my own head, or if I be taught by the Spirit of God; I tell thee, woman, thou shalt live and see that I am not mistaken. She told me, that she was very lately delivered, and out of her great desire to have her child baptised before he came off, that she took travail too soon; and being weak, and so surprised with his telling her the thoughts of her heart, that she was in danger of falling off the chair. At this exercise also he told them, that he could not win off till he got this done, and this was all the drink-money, he had left in Ireland, and to the family (pointing to the landlord) for all the kindness he had met with from them. After baptism they got breakfast; there was plenty of bread upon the table, seeking a blessing, he put his hand beneath the bread, and holding it up with much affection and tears, said, “Lord there is a well covered table, and plenty of bread: but what comes of the poor young, kindly, honest hearted lad Renwick, that shames us all, in starving and holding up his fainting mother’s head, when of all the children she has brought forth, there is none will avowedly take her by the hand: and the poor, cold, hungry lads on the hills? For honour of thine own cause, let them not starve: thou caused a ravenous bird, greedy of flesh itself, to feed Elijah: and thou fed thy people in the wilderness with angel’s food: and blessed a few loaves and small fishes, and made them sufficient for many; and had experience of want, weariness cold and hunger, and enemies daily hunting for thy life, while in the world; look to them, and provide for them.” The Waiters being advertised of the bark being in that place, they and other people came upon them, which obliged them that were to come off, to secure the Waiters and people altogether, for fear of the garrison of Carrickfergus apprehending them, being near to it, which obliged them to come off immediately, twenty-six of our Scots sufferers came aboard, he stood upon the deck and prayed, there being not the least wind, where he made a rehearsal of times and places, when and where the Lord had heard and answered them in the days of their distress and how they were in a great strait.—Waving his hand to the west, from whence he desired the wind, he said, ‘Lord give a loof-full of wind: fill the sails Lord and give us a fresh gale, and let us have a swift passage over to the bloody land, come of us what will.’—John Muirhead, Robert Wark, and others who were present, told me, that when he began to pray, the sails were all hanging straight down, but ere he ended, they were all like blown bladders. They put out the Waiters and other people and got a very swift and safe passage.—The twenty-six Scots sufferers that were with him, having provided themselves with arms, and being designed to return to Scotland, there being then such a noise of killing; and the report was no greater than the deed, it being then in the heat of killing time, in the end of Febuary 1685. when at exercise in the bark, he said, ‘Lord thou knowest these lads are hot spirited, lay an arrest upon them, that they may not appear; their time is not yet; though Monmouth and Argyle be coming, they will work no deliverance.’ At that time there was no report of their coming, for they came not for ten weeks thereafter.—In the morning after they landed, he lectured before they parted, sitting upon a brae-side, where he had fearful threatenings against Scotland saying, the time was coming that they might travel many miles in Galloway and Nithsdale, Ayr and Clydesdale, and not see a reeking house, nor hear a cock crow.

28. When the day of his death drew near, and not being able to travel, he came to his brother’s house, in the parish of Sorn, where he was born. He caused dig a cave with a saughen bush covering the mouth of it, near to his brother’s house and the enemies came and searched the house narrowly many times. In the time that he was in this cave, he said to some friends, 1. That God shall make Scotland a desolation. 2. There shall be a remnant in the land, whom God should spare and hide. 3. They should lie in holes and caves of the earth, and be supplied with meat and drink: And when they come out of their holes, they shall not have freedom to walk, for stumbling on the dead corpses. 4. A stone cut of a mountain, should come down, and God shall be avenged on the great ones of the earth, and the inhabitants of the land, for their wickedness, and then the church should come forth with a bonny bairn-time of young ones at her back. He wished that the Lord’s people might lie hid in their caves, as if they were not in the world, for nothing would do it, until God appeared with his judgments, and they that wan through the bitter and sharp, short storm, by the sword of the Frenches, and a set of unhappy men, taking part with them, then there would be a spring-tide day of the plenty, purity and power of the gospel: Giving them that for a sign, If he were but once buried, they might be in doubts; but if he were oftener buried than once, they might be persuaded that all he had said would come to pass: And earnestly desired them to take his corpse out to Airdsmoss, and bury them beside Richy (meaning Mr. Cameron) that he might get rest in his grave, for he had gotten little through his life; but he said he knew they would not do it.

29. Within forty-eight hours he died, January 28th. 1686, being past sixty years; and was buried in the Laird of Afflect’s Isle. The enemies got notice of his death and burial, and sent a troop of dragoons, and lifted his corpse and carried him to Cumnock-gallows foot, and buried him there (after being forty days in the grave) beside others. His friends thereafter laid a grave-stone above him, with this inscription:

HERE LIES

MR. ALEXANDER PEDEN,

A Faithful Minister of the Gospel,

at Glenluce,

Who departed this life January 28, 1686,

And was raised after six weeks

Out of his Grave,

And buried here out of contempt.

FINIS.

THE LIFE

AND

WONDERFUL PROPHECIES

OF

DONALD CARGILL.

Who was Executed at the Cross

of Edinburgh, on the 26th July, 1680.

For his adherence to the Covenant,

and Work of

REFORMATION

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

LIFE OF

MR DONALD CARGILL.

Mr Cargill seems to have been born some time about the year 1610. He was eldest son of a most respected family in the parish of Rattray. After he had been some time in the schools of Aberdeen, he went to St Andrew’s, where having perfected his course of philosophy, his father pressed upon him much to study divinity, in order for the ministry; but he thought the work was too great for his weak shoulders, and requested to command him to any other employment he pleased. But his father still continuing to urge him, he resolved to set apart a day of private fasting, to seek the Lord’s mind therein. And after much wrestling with the Lord by prayer, the third chapter of Ezekiel, and chiefly these words in the first verse, “Son of man, eat this roll and go speak unto the house of Israel”, made a strong impression on his mind, so that he durst no longer refuse his father’s desire, but dedicated himself wholly unto that office.

After this, he got a call to the Barony Church of Glasgow, It was so ordered by Divine providence, that the very first text the presbytery ordered him to preach upon, was these words in the third of Ezekiel, already mentioned, by which he was more confirmed, that he had God’s call to this parish. This parish had been long vacant, by reason that two ministers of the Resolution party, viz. Messrs Young and Blair, and still opposed the settlement of such godly men as had been called by the people. But in reference to Mr Cargill’s call, they were in God’s providence, much bound up from their wonted opposition. Here Mr Cargill, perceiving the lightness and unconcerned behaviour of the people under the word, was much discouraged thereat, so that he resolved to return home, and not accept the call, which, when he was urged by some godly ministers not to do, and his reason asked, he answered they are a rebellious people. The ministers solicited him to stay, but in vain. But when the horse was drawn, and he just going to begin his journey, being in the house of Mr Durham, when he had saluted several of his Christian friends that came to see him take horse, as he was taking farewell of a certain godly woman, she said to him, “Sir, you have promised to preach on Thursday, and have you appointed a meal for poor starving people, and will you go away and not give it? If you do, the curse of God will go with you.” This so moved him, that he durst not go away as he intended; but sitting down, desired her and others to pray for him. So he remained and was settled in that parish, where he continued to exercise his ministry with great success, to the unspeakable satisfaction both of his own parish, and all the godly that heard and knew him, until that, by the unhappy Restoration of Charles II. Prelacy was again restored.

Upon the 26th of May following, the day consecrated in commemoration of the said Restoration, he had occasion to preach in his own church, it being his ordinary week-day’s preaching, when he saw an unusual throng of people come to hear him, thinking he had preached in compliance with that solemnity. Upon entering the pulpit, he said, ‘We are not come here to keep this day upon the account for which others keep it. We thought once to have blessed the day, wherein the King came home again, but now we think we shall have reason to curse it; and if any of you come here in order to the solemnizing of this day, we desire you to remove.’ And enlarging upon these words in the 9th of Hosea, Rejoice not, O Israel, &c. he said, ‘This is the first step of our going a-whoring from God; and whoever of the Lord’s people this day are rejoicing, their joy will be like the crackling of thorns under a pot, it will soon be turned to mourning; he (meaning the king) will be the wofullest sight ever the poor church of Scotland saw; wo, wo, wo unto him, his name shall stink while the world stands for treachery, tyranny, and lechery.’

This did exceedingly enrage the malignant party against him, so that being hotly pursued, he was obliged to abscond, remaining sometimes in private houses, and sometimes lying all night without, among broom near the city, yet never omitting any proper occasion of private preaching, catechising, and visiting of families, and other ministerial duties, but at length, when the churches were all vacated of Presbyterians by an act of Council, 1662, Middleton sent a band of soldiers to apprehend him, who, coming to the church, found him not, he having providentially just stepped out of the one door a minute before they came in at the other; whereupon they took the keys of the church door with them, and departed.—In the mean while the Council passed an act of confinement banishing him to the north side of the Tay, under penalty of being imprisoned, and prosecuted as a seditious person.—But this sentence he no ways regarded.

During this time, partly by grief for the ruin of God’s work in the land, and partly by the toils and inconveniences of his labours and accommodation, his voice became so broken, that he could not be heard by many together, which was a sore exercise to him, and discouragement to preach in the fields; but one day Mr Blackatter coming to preach near Glasgow, he essayed to preach with him, and standing on a chair, as his custom was, he lectured on Is. xliv. 3. “I will pour water on him that is thirsty, &c.” The people were much discouraged, knowing his voice to be sore broken, lest they should not have heard by reason of the great confluence. But it pleased the Lord to loose his tongue, and to restore his voice to such a distinct clearness, that none could easily exceed him; and not only his voice, but his spirit was so enlarged, and such a door of utterance given him, that Mr Blackatter, succeeding him, said to the people, ‘Ye that have such preaching, have no need to invite strangers to preach to you; make good use of your mercy.’ After this he continued to preach without the city, a great multitude attending and profiting by his ministry, being wonderfully preserved in the midst of dangers, the enemy several times sending out to watch him, and catch something from his mouth whereof they might accuse him, &c.

In October 1665, they made a public search for him in the city. But he, being informed, took horse, and rode out of town, and at a narrow pass of the way, he met a good number of musqueteers. As he passed them, turning to another way on the right-hand, one of them asked him, Sir, what o’clock is it? he answered, It is six. Another of them knowing his voice, said, There is the man we are seeking.—Upon hearing this, he put spurs to his horse, and so escaped.

For about three years he usually resided in the house of one Margaret Craig, a very godly woman, where he lectured morning and evening to such as came to hear him. And tho’ they searched strictly for him here, yet providence so ordered it, that he was either casually or purposely absent, for the Lord was often so gracious to him, that he left him not without some notice of approaching hazard. Thus, one Sabbath, as he was going to Woodside to preach, as he was about to mount his horse, having one foot in the stirrup, he turned about to his man, and said, I must not go yonder to-day.—And in a little a party of the enemy came there in quest of him; but missing the mark they aimed at, they fell upon the people, by apprehending and imprisoning several of them.

Another of his remarkable escapes was at a march made for him in the city, where they came to his chamber, and found him not, being providentially in another house, that night.—But what is most remarkable, being one day preaching privately in the house of one Mr Callander, they came and beset the house; the people put him and another into a window, closing the window up with books. The search was so strict, that they searched the very ceiling of the house, until one of them fell through the lower loft.—Had they removed but one of the books, they would certainly have found him. But the Lord so ordered that they did it not; for as one of the soldiers was about to take up one of them, the maid cried to the commander, that he was going to take her master’s books, and he was ordered to let them be. Thus narrowly he escaped this danger.

Thus he continued until the 23d of November 1667, that the Council, upon information of a breach of his confinement, cited him to appear before them on the 11th of January thereafter. But when he was apprehended, and compeared before the Council and strictly examined, wherein he was most singularly strengthened to bear faithful testimony to his Master’s honour, and his persecuted cause and truths; yet by the interposition of some persons of quality, his own friends, and his wife’s relations, he was dismissed, and presently returned to Glasgow, and there performed all the ministerial duties.

Some time before Bothwell, notwithstanding all the searches that were made for him by the enemy, which were both strict and frequent, he preached publicly for eighteen Sabbath-days to multitudes, consisting of several thousands, within a little more than a quarter of a mile of the city of Glasgow; yea, so near it, that the psalms, when singing, were heard through several parts, of it; and yet all this time uninterrupted.

At Bothwell, being taken by the enemy, and struck down to the ground with a sword, seeing nothing but present death for him having received several dangerous wounds in the head, one of the soldiers asked his name; he told him it was Donald Cargill; another asked him, if he was a minister? He answered, he was; whereupon they let him go. When his wounds were examined, he feared to ask if they were mortal, desiring, in admission to God, to live, judging that the Lord had yet further work for him to accomplish.

Some time after the battle at Bothwell, he was pursued from his own chamber out of town, and forced to go through several thorn hedges. But he was no sooner out, than he saw a troop of dragoons just opposite to him; back he could not go, soldiers being posted every where to catch him; upon which he went forward, near by the troop, who looked to him, and he to them, until he got past. But coming to the place of the water at which he intended to go over, he saw another troop standing on the other side, who called to him but he made them no answer. And going about a mile up the water, he escaped, and preached at Langside next Sabbath, without interruption. At another time, being in a house beset with soldiers, he went through the midst of them, they thinking it was the goodman of the house and escaped.

After Bothwell, he fell into a deep exercise anent his call to the ministry; but, by the grace and goodness of God, he soon emerged out of that, and also got much light anent the duty of the day, being a faithful contender against the enemy’s usurped power, and against the sinful compliance of ministers, in accepting the indulgence, with indemnities, oaths, bonds, and all other corruptions.

There was a certain woman in Rutherglen, about two miles from Glasgow, who, by the instigation of some, both ministers and professors, was persuaded to advice her husband to go but once to hear the curate, to prevent the family being reduced; which she prevailed with him to do. But going the next day after to milk her cows, two or three of them dropt down dead at her feet, and Satan, as she conceived, appeared unto her; which cast her under sad and sore exercises and desertion; so that she was brought to question her interest in Christ, and all that had formerly passed betwixt God and her soul, and was often tempted to destroy herself, and sundry times attempted it: Being before known to be an eminent Christian, she was visited by many Christians; but without success: still crying out she was undone; she had denied Christ, and he had denied her. After continuing a long time in this exercise, she cried for Mr Cargill, who came to her, but found her distemper so strong, that for several visits he was obliged to leave her as he found her to his no small grief. However, after setting some days apart on her behalf, he at last came again to her; but finding her no better, still rejecting all comfort, still crying out, that she had no interest in the mercy of God, or merits of Christ, but had sinned the unpardonable sin; he, looking in her face for a considerable time, took out his Bible, and naming her, said, “I have this day a commission from my Lord and Master, to renew the marriage contract betwixt you and him; and if ye will not consent, I am to require your subscription on this Bible, that you are willing to quit all right, interest in, or pretence unto him:” and then he offered her pen and ink for that purpose. She was silent for some time; but at last cried out, “O! salvation is come unto this house. I take him; I take him on his own terms, as he is offered unto me by his faithful ambassador.” From that time her bands were loosed.

One time Mr Cargill, Mr Walter Smith, and some other Christian friends, being met in a friend’s house in Edinburgh, one of the company told him of the general bonding of the Western gentlemen for suppressing field meetings, and putting all out of their grounds who frequented them. After sitting silent for some time, he answered, with several heavy sighs and groans, “The enemy have been long filling up the cup; and ministers and professors must have time to fill up their’s also; and it shall not be full till enemies and they be clasped in one another’s arms; and then, as the Lord lives, he will bring the wheel of his wrath and justice over them altogether.”

Some time after the beginning of the year 1680, he retired toward the Frith of Forth, where he continued until that scuffle at Queensferry, where worthy Haugh-head was killed, and he sorely wounded. But escaping, a certain woman found him in a private place, to the south of the town, and tying up his wounds with her head-cloths, conducted him to the house of one Robert Runtens, in Carlowrie, where a surgeon dressed his wounds and Mrs Puntens gave him some warm milk, and he lay in their barn all night. From thence he went to the south, and next Sabbath preached at Cairnhill, somewhere adjacent to Loudon, in his blood and wounds; for no danger could stop him from going about doing good. His text was in Heb. xi. 32. And what shall I more say, for time would fail me to tell of Gideon, &c. At night, some persons said to him, We think, Sir, preaching and praying go best with you when your danger and distress are greatest. He said, it had been so, and he hoped it would be so, the more that enemies and others did thurst at him that he might fall, the more sensibly the Lord had helped him; and then (as it had been to himself) he repeated these words, The Lord is my strength and song, and has become my salvation, in the 118th Psalm, which was the psalm he sung upon the scaffold.

After this, he and Mr Richard Cameron met and preached together in Dermeid-muir, and other places, until that Mr Cameron was slain at Airs-moss, and then he went north, where, in the month of September following, he had a most numerous meeting at the Torwood, near Stirling, where he pronounced the sentence of excommunication, against some of the most violent persecutors of that day, as formally as the present state of things could then permit. Some time before this, it is said, he was very remote, and spoke very little in company; only to some he said, he had atout to give with the trumpet that the Lord had put in his hand, that would sound in the ears of many in Britain, and other places in Europe also. It is said, that no body knew what he was to do that morning, except Mr Walter Smith, to whom he imparted the thoughts of his heart. When he began, some friends feared he would be shot. His landlord, in whose house he had been that night, cast his coat and ran for it. In the forenoon, he lectured on Ezek. xxi. 25. &c. and preached on 1 Cor. v. 13. and then discoursed some time on the nature of excommunication, and then proceeded to the sentence: after which, in the afternoon, he preached from Lam. iii. 31, 32. For the Lord will not cast off for ever.

The next Lord’s day, he preached at Fallowhill, in the parish of Livingstone. In the preface, he said, “I know I am and will be condemned by many, for excommunicating those wicked men, but condemn me who will, I know I am approven of by God, and am persuaded, that what I have done on earth, is ratified in heaven; for, if ever I knew the mind of God, and was clear in my call to any piece of my generation-work, it was that. And I shall give you two signs, that ye may know I am in no delusion; (1.) If some of these men do not find that sentence binding upon them, ere they go off the stage, and be obliged to confess it, &c. (2.) If these men die the ordinary death of men, then God hath not spoken by me.”

About the 22d of October following, a long and severe proclamation was issued out against him and his followers, wherein a reward of 5000 merks was offered for apprehending him, &c.—Next month, Governor Middleton, having been frustrated in his design upon Mr Cargill at Queensferry, laid another plot for him, by consulting one James Henderson in Ferry, who, by forging and signing letters, in the name of Bailie Adam in Culross, and some other serious Christians in Fife, for Mr Cargill to come over, and preach to them at the hill of Beith. Accordingly, Henderson went to Edinburgh with the letters, and, after a most diligent search, found him in the West Bow. Mr Cargill being willing to answer the call, Henderson proposed to go before, and have a boat, ready at the Ferry when they came; and that he might know them, he desired to see Mr Cargill’s cloth, Mr Skeen and Mr Boig being in the same room. In the mean time, he had Middleton’s soldiers lying at the Mutton-hole, about three miles from Edinburgh. Mr Skeen, Archibald Stuart, Mrs Muir, and Marion Hervey, took the way before, on foot: Mr Cargill and Mr Boig being to follow on horseback. Whenever they came to the place, the soldiers spied them; but Mrs Muir escaped and went and stopped Mr Cargill and Mr Boig, who fled back to Edinburgh.

After this remarkable escape, Mr Cargill, seeing nothing but the violent flames of treachery and tyranny against him, above all others, retired for about three months to England, where the Lord blessed his labours to the conviction and edification of many. In the time of his absence that delusion of the Gibbites arose, from one John Gib sailor In Borrow-stounness, who, with other three men, and twenty six women, vented and maintained the most strange delusions. Some time after, Mr Cargill returned from England, and was at no small pains to reclaim them, but with little success. After his last conference with them, at Darngavel, in Cambusnethen parish, he came next Sabbath, and preached at the Underbank wood, below Lanark, and from thence to Loudon-hill, where he preached upon a fast day, being the 5th of May. Here he intended only to have preached once, and to have baptized some children. His text was, ‘No man that hath followed me in the regeneration, &c.’ When sermon was over, and the children baptized, more children came up; whereupon friends pressed him to preach in the afternoon; which he did, from these words, ‘Weep not for me,’ &c. In the mean while the enemy at Glasgow getting notice of this meeting, seized all the horses in and about the town, that they could come by, and mounted in quest of him; yea, such was their haste and fury, that one of the soldiers, who happened to be behind the rest, riding furiously down the street called the Stockwell, at mid-day, rode over a child, and killed her on the spot. Just as Mr Cargill was praying at the close, a lad alarmed them of the enemy’s approach. They having no sentinels that day which was not their ordinary, were surprised, so that some of them who had been at Pentland, Bothwell, Airs-moss, and other dangers, were never so seized with fear, some of the women, throwing their children from them. In this confusion Mr Cargill was running straight on the enemy; but Gavin Wotherspoon and others haled him to the moss, unto which the people fled. The dragoons fired hard upon them, but there were none either killed or taken that day.

About this time, some spoke to Mr Cargill of his preaching and praying short. They said, “O Sir, it is long betwixt meals, and we are in a starving condition; all is good, sweet, and wholesome, that you deliver, but why do you so straiten us?” He said, “Ever since I bowed a knee in good earnest to pray, I never durst preach, and pray with my gift; and when my heart is not affected, and comes not up with my mouth, I always think it time to quit it. What comes not from the heart, I have little hope it will go to the hearts of others:” Then he repeated these words in the 51st psalm, “Then will I teach transgressors thy way, &c.”

From Loudon hill he took a tour through Ayrshire to Carrick and Galloway, preaching, baptizing, and marrying some people; but staid not long until he returned to Clydesdale. He designed, after his return, to have preached one day at Tinto-hill, but the Lady of St John’s Kirk gave it out to be at Home Common. He being in the house of John Liddel, near Tinto, went out to spend the Sabbath morning by himself; and seeing the people all passing by, he inquired the reason; which being told, he rose and followed them five miles. The morning being warm, (about the 1st of June,) and the heights steep, he was very much fatigued before he got to the place, where a man gave him a drink of water out of his bonnet, and another between sermons; this being the best entertainment he got that day, for he had tasted nothing in the morning. Here he lectured on the 6th of Isaiah, and preached on these words, “Be not high minded, but fear, &c.” From thence he went to Fyfe, and baptised many children, and preached one day at Daven common, and then returned to the Benry-bridge in Cambusnethan, where he received a call from the hands of two men, to come back to Galloway, but got it not answered.

Mr Cargill in that short time, had run very fast towards his end, which now hastens apace. Having left the Benry-bridge, he preached one day at Auchingilloch, and then came to preach his last sermon on Dunsyre common, between Clydesdale and Lothian, upon the text Is. xxvi. 20. “Come my people and enter into your chambers, &c.”

Some time that night, through the persuasion of Mr Smith and Mr Boig, he went with the Lady of St. John’s Kirk, as far as Covington mill, to the house of one Andrew Fisher. In the mean time, James Irvine of Bonshaw, having got a general commission, marched with a party of dragoons from Kilbride, and next morning, by sun-rising, came to St John’s Kirk, and having searched it, he searched also the house of one Thomson, and then came to Covington-mill, and there apprehended him, Mr Smith, and Mr Boig. Bonshaw, when he found them, cried out, O blessed Bonshaw! and blessed day that ever I was born! that has found such a prize! a prize of 5000 merks for apprehending him this morning! They marched hard to Lanark and put them in jail, until they got some refreshment and then brought them out in haste, got horses and set the prisoners on their bare backs. Bonshaw tied Mr Cargill’s feet below the horse’s belly, with his own hand, very hard; at which this man looked down to him, and said, “Why do you tie me so hard, your wickedness is great. You will not long escape the just judgement of God; and, if I be not mistaken it will seize you in this very place.” Which accordingly next year came to pass: for having got this price of blood, one of his comrades, in a rage ran him through with a sword at Lanark: and his last words were, “G—d d——n my soul eternally, for I am gone.” Mischief shall hunt the violent man.

They came to Glasgow in haste, fearing a rescue of the prisoners: and while waiting at the tolbooth, till the magistrates came to receive them, one John Nisbet, the Archbishop’s factor, said to Mr Cargill in ridicule, three times over, Will you give us one word more? (alluding to an expression he used sometimes when preaching); to whom Mr Cargill said with regret, “Mock not, lest your lands be made strong. The day is coming, when you shall not have one word to say though you would.” This also came quickly to pass; for, not many days after, he fell suddenly ill, and for three days his tongue swelled, and though he was most earnest to speak, yet he could not command one word, and died in great torment, and seeming terror.

From Glasgow they were taken to Edinburgh, and, July 15th, were brought before the Council. Chancellor Rothes (being one of those whom he excommunicated at Torwood) raged against him, threatening him with torture and a violent death. To whom he said, “My Lord Rothes, forbear to threaten me, for die what death I will, your eyes shall not see it.”—Which accordingly came to pass; for he died the morning of that day, in the afternoon of which Mr Cargill was executed.

When before the Council, he was asked, if he acknowledged the King’s authority, &c. he answered as the magistrate’s authority is now established by act of parliament, and explanatory act, that he denied the same. Being also examined anent the excommunication at Torwood, he declined to answer, as being an ecclesiastical matter, and they a civil judicatory. He owned the lawfulness of defensive arms, in cases of necessity, and denied that those that rose at Bothwell, &c. were rebels: and being interrogated anent the Sanquhar declaration, he declined to give his judgment until he had more time to consider the contents thereof. He further declared, he could not give his sense of the killing of the Bishop; but that the scriptures say, upon the Lord’s giving a call to a private man to kill, he might do it lawfully; and gave the instances of Jael and Phinehas. These were the most material points on which he was examined.

While he was in prison, a gentlewoman who came to visit him, told him, weeping, “That these Heaven daring enemies were contriving a most violent death for him; some, a barrel with pikes to roll him in; others an iron-chair, red-hot, to roll him in,” &c. But he said, “Let you nor none of the Lord’s people be troubled for these things, for all that they will get liberty to do to me, will be to knit me up, cut me down, and chop off my old head, and then fare them well; they have done with me, and with them for ever.”

He was again before the Council on the 19th, but refusing to answer their questions, except anent the excommunication. There was some motion made to spare him, as he was an old man, and send him prisoner to the Bass during life; which motion being put to a vote, was, by the casting vote of the Earl of Rothes, rejected; who doomed him to the gallows, there to die like a traitor.

Upon the 26th he was brought before the justiciary, and indicted in common form. His confession being produced in evidence against him, he was brought in guilty of high treason, and condemned, with the rest, to be hanged at the cross of Edinburgh, and his head placed on the Nether Bow. When they came to these words in his indictment, viz. having cast off all fear of God, &c. he caused the clerk to stop, and, pointing to the Advocate, Sir George M’Kenzie, said, “The man that hath caused that paper to be drawn up hath done it contrary to the light of his own conscience, for he knoweth that I have been a fearer of God from mine infancy; but that man, I say, who took the Holy Bible in his hand, and said, It would never be well with the land, until that book was destroyed, &c. I say, he is the man that hath cast off all fear of God.” The Advocate stormed at this, but could not deny the truth thereof.

When they got their sentence announced by sound of trumpet he said, “That is a weary sound, but the sound of the last trumpet will be a joyful sound to me, and all that will be found having on Christ’s righteousness.”

Being come to the scaffold, he stood with his back to the ladder, and desired the attention of the numerous spectators; and after singing from the 16th verse of the 118th psalm, he began to speak to three sorts of people; but being interrupted by the drum, he said, with a smiling countenance, “Ye see we have no liberty to speak what we would, but God knoweth our hearts.” As he proceeded, he was again interrupted. Then, after a little pause or silence, he began to exhort the people; and to show his own comfort in laying down his life, in the assurance of a blessed eternity, expressing himself in these words: “Now, I am as sure of my interest in Christ, and peace with God, as all within this Bible and the Spirit of God can make me; and I am fully persuaded, that this is the very way for which I suffer, and that he will return gloriously to Scotland; but it will be terrifying to many; therefore, I entreat you, be not discouraged at the way of Christ and the cause for which I am to lay down my life, and step into eternity, where my soul shall be as full of him as it can desire to be; and now this is the sweetest and most glorious day that ever mine eyes did see. Enemies are now enraged against the way and people of God, but ere long they shall be enraged one against another, to their own confusion.” Here the drums did beat a third time. Then setting his foot on the ladder, he said, “The Lord knows I go on this ladder with less fear, and perturbation of mind, than ever I entered the pulpit to preach.”—When up, he sat down, and said, “Now I am near the getting of the crown, which shall be sure, for which I bless the Lord, and desire all of you to bless him, that he hath brought me here, and made me triumph over devils, men, and sin. They shall wound me no more. I forgive all men the wrongs they have done me; and I pray the sufferers may be kept from sin, and helped to know their duty.” Then having prayed a little within himself, he lifted up the napkin, and said, “Farewell all relations and friends in Christ; farewell acquaintances and earthly enjoyments; farewell reading and preaching, praying and believing, wanderings, reproach, and sufferings. Welcome Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; into thy hands I commit my spirit.” Then he prayed a little, and the executioner turned him over as he was praying; and so he finished his course, and the ministry that he had received of the Lord.

Take his character from Sir Robert Hamilton of Preston, who was his contemporary. He was affectionate, affable, and tender-hearted, to all such as he thought had any thing of the image of God in them; sober and temperate in his diet, saying commonly, It was well won that was won off the flesh; generous, liberal and most charitable to the poor; a great hater of covetousness; a frequent visitor of the sick; much alone, loving to be retired; but when about his Master’s public work, laying hold of every opportunity to edify; in conversation, still dropping what might minister grace to the hearers: his countenance was edifying to beholders; often sighing with deep groans: preaching in season, and out of season, upon all hazards; ever the same in judgment and practice. From his youth, he was much given to the duty of secret prayer, for whole nights together; wherein it was observed, that, both in secret and in families, he always sat straight upon his knees, with his hands lifted up; and in this posture (as some took notice) he died with the rope about his neck.

Besides his last speech and testimony, and several other religious letters, with the lecture, sermon, and sentence of excommunication at Torwood, which, are all published, there are also several other sermons, and notes of sermons, interspersed among some peoples hands, in print and manuscript, some of which have been published. Yet if we may believe Walker, in his remarkable passages, &c. who heard severals of them preached, they are nothing to what they were when delivered; and however pathetical, yet doubtless far inferior to what they would have been, had they been corrected and published by the worthy author himself.

AN ACROSTIC ON HIS NAME.

Most sweet and savoury is thy fame,

And more renowned is thy name,

Surely than any can record,

Thou highly favoured of the Lord.

Exalted thou on earth didst live;

Rich grace to thee the Lord did give.

During the time thou dwelt below,

On in a course to heaven didst go.

Not casten down with doubts and fears,

Assur’d of heaven near thirty years.

Labour thou didst in Christ’s vineyard;

Diligent wast, no time thou spar’d.

Christ’s standard thou didst bear alone,

After others from it were gone.

Right zeal for truth was found in thee,

Great sinners censurd’st faithfully.

In holding truth didst constant prove,

Laidst down thy life out of true love.

June 21, 1741.             W. W.

FINIS.

NARRATIVE

OF THE BATTLES

OF

DRUMCLOG,

AND

BOTHWELL BRIDGE.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

BATTLE OF DRUMCLOG.

The following Account of the Battles of Drumclog and Bothwell Bridge, is taken from an American Newspaper, entitled the ‘National Gazette.’ It is written by the Laird of Torfoot, an officer in the Presbyterian army, whose estate is at this day in the possession of his lineal descendants of the fifth generation.

“It was a fair Sabbath morning, 1st June 1679, that an assembly of the Covenanters sat down on the heathy mountains of Drumclog. We had assembled not to fight, but to worship the God of our fathers. We were far from the tumult of cities.—The long dark heath waved around us; and we disturbed no living creatures, saving the pees-weep and the heather-cock. As usual, we had come armed. It was for self-defence. For desperate and ferocious bands made bloody raids through the country, and, pretending to put down treason, they waged war against religion and morals. They spread ruin and havoc over the face of bleeding Scotland.

The venerable Douglas had commenced the solemnities of the day. He was expatiating on the execrable evils of tyranny. Our souls were on fire at the rememberance of our country’s sufferings and the wrongs of the church. In this moment of intense feeling, our watchman posted on the neighbouring heights fired his carabine and ran towards the congregation. He announced the approach of the enemy. We raised our eyes to the minister. “I have done,” said Douglas with his usual firmness—“You have got the theory,—now for the practice; you know your duty; self-defence is always lawful. But the enemy approaches.” He raised his eyes to heaven and uttered a prayer—brief and emphatic—like the prayer of Richard Cameron, “Lord, spare the green, and take the ripe.”

The officers collected their men, and placed themselves each at the head of those of his own district. Sir Robert Hamilton placed the foot in the centre, in three ranks. A company of horse, well armed and mounted, was placed on the left; and a small squadron also on the left. These were drawn back, and they occupied the more solid ground; as well with a view to have a more solid footing, as to arrest any flanking party that might take them on the wings. A deep morass lay between us and the ground of the enemy. Our aged men, our females and children retired; but they retired slowly. They had the hearts and the courage of the female and children in those days of intense religious feeling and of suffering. They manefested more concern for the fate of relatives, for the fate of the church than for their own personal safety. As Claverhouse descended the opposite mountain, they retired to the rising ground in the rear of our host. The aged men walked with their bonnets in hand. Their long grey hairs waving to the breeze. They sang a cheering psalm. The music was that of the well-known tune of “The Martyrs;” and the sentiment breathed defiance.—The music floated down on the wind,—our men gave them three cheers as they fell into their ranks. Never did I witness such animation in the looks of men. For me, my spouse and my little children were in the rear. My native plains, and the hills of my father, far below, in the dale of Aven, were in full view from the heights which we occupied. My country seemed to raise her voice—the bleeding church seemed to wail aloud. ‘And these,’ I said, as, Clavers and his troops winded slowly down the dark mountain’s side, ‘these are the unworthy slaves, and bloody executioners, by which the tyrant completes our miseries.’

Hamilton here displayed the hero. His portly figure was seen hastening from rank to rank. He inspired courage into our raw and undisciplined troops. The brave Hackstone, and Hall of Haughhead, stood at the head of the foot, and re-echoed the sentiments of their Chief. Burley and Cleland had inflamed the minds of the horsemen on the left to a noble enthusiasm. My small troop on the right needed no exhortation; we were a band of brothers, resolved to conquer or fall.

The trumpet of Clavers sounded a loud note of defiance—the kettle drum mixed its tumultuous roll—they halted—they made a long pause. We could see an officer with four file, conducting 15 persons from the ranks, to a knoll on their left. I could perceive one in black: it was my friend King, the Chaplain at Lord Cardross, who had been taken by Clavers at Hamilton. ‘Let them be shot through the head,’ said Clavers, in his usual dry way, ‘if they should offer to run away.’ We could see him view our position with great care. His officers came around him. We soon learned that he wished to treat with us. He never betrayed symptoms of mercy or of justice, nor offered terms of reconciliation, unless when he dreaded that he had met his match; and, even then, it was only a manœuvre to gain time or to deceive. His flag approached the edge of the bog. Sir Robert held a flag sacred; had it been borne by Clavers himself he had honoured it. He demanded the purpose for which he came. ‘I come,’ said he, ‘in the name of his sacred Majesty, and of Colonel Graham, to offer you a pardon, on condition that you lay down your arms, and deliver up your ringleaders.’—‘Tell your officer,’ said Sir Robert, ‘that we are fully aware of the deception he practices. He is not clothed with any powers to treat, nor was he sent out to treat with us, and attempt reconciliation. The Government against whom we have risen, refuses to redress our grievances, or to restore to us our liberties. Had the tyrant wished to render us justice, he had not sent by the hand of such a ferocious assassin as Claverhouse. Let him, however, show his powers, and we refuse not to treat; and we shall lay down our arms to treat, provided that he also lay down his. Thou hast my answer.’—‘It is a perfectly hopeless case,’ said Burley, while he called after the flag-bearer.—‘Let me add one word by your leave, General. Get thee up to that bloody dragoon, Clavers, and tell him, that we will spare his life, and the lives of his troops, on condition that he, your Clavers, lay down his arms, and the arms of these troops. We will do more, as we have no prisoners on these wild mountains, we will even let him go on his parole, on condition that he swear never to lift arms against the religion and the liberties of his country.’ A loud burst of applause re-echoed from the ranks; and after a long pause in deep silence, the army sung the following verses of a psalm:—

‘The arrows of the bow he brake:

The shield, the sword, the war.

More glorious thou than hills of prey,

More excellent art far.

Those that were stout of heart are spoil’d,

They sleep their sleep outright;

And none of these their hands did find,

That were the men of might.’

When the report was made to Claverhouse, he gave word with a savage ferocity, ‘Their blood be on their own heads. Be—no quarter—the word this day.’ His fierce dragoons raised a yell, and ‘No quarter’ re-echoed from rank to rank, while they galloped down the mountain side. It is stated, that Burleigh was heard to say, ‘Then be it so, even let there be ‘no quarter’—at least in my wing of the host. So God send me a meeting,’ cried he aloud, ‘with that chief under the white plume.—My country would bless my memory, could my sword give his villainous carcase to the crows.’

Our raw troops beheld with firmness the approach of the foemen; and at the moment when the enemy halted to fire, the whole of our foot dropped on the heath. Not a man was seen down when the order was given to rise, and return the fire. The first flank fired, then kneeling down while the second fired. They made each bullet tell. As often as the lazy rolling smoke was carried over the enemy’s head, a shower of bullets fell on his ranks. Many a gallant man tumbled on the heath. The fire was incessant. It resembled one blazing sheet of flame, for several minutes, along the line of the Covenanters. Clavers attempted to cross the morass, and break our centre. ‘Spearmen! to the front,’—I could hear the deep-toned voice of Hamilton say, ‘Kneel, and place your spears to receive the enemy’s cavalry; and you, my gallant fellows fire—God and our country is our word.’—Our officers flew from rank to rank. Not a peasant gave way that day. As the smoke rolled off, we could see Clavers urging on his men with the violence of despair. His troops fell in heaps around him, and still the gaps were filled up. A galled trooper would occasionally flinch; but ere he could turn or flee, the sword of Clavers was waving over his head. I could see him in his fury, strike both man and horse. In the fearful carnage he himself sometimes reeled. He would stop short in the midst of a movement, then contradict his own orders, and strike the man, because he could not comprehend his meaning.

He ordered the flanking parties to take us on our right and left. “In the name of God,” cried he, “cross the bog, and charge them on the flanks till we get over the morass. If this fail we are lost.”

It now fell to my lot to come into action.—Hitherto we had fired only some distant shot. A gallant officer led his band down to the borders of the swamp, in search of a proper place to cross. We threw ourselves before him, a severe firing commenced. My gallant men fired with great steadiness. We could see many tumbling from their saddles. Not content with repelling the foemen, we found an opportunity to cross, and attack sword in hand. The Captain, whose name I afterwards ascertained to be Arrol, threw himself into my path. In the first shock, I discharged my pistols. His sudden start in the saddle, told me that one of them had taken effect. With one of the tremendous oaths of Charles II. he closed with me. He fired his steel pistol. I was in front of him;—my sword glanced on the weapon, and gave a direction to the bullet, which saved my life. By this time my men had driven the enemy before them, and had left the ground clear for the single combat. As he made a lounge at my breast, I turned his sword aside, by one of those sweeping blows, which are rather the dictate of a kind of instinct of self-defence, than a movement of art.—As our strokes redoubled, my antagonist’s dark features put on a look of deep and settled ferocity. No man who has not encountered the steel of his enemy, in the field of battle, can conceive the looks and the manner of the warrior, in the moments of his intense feelings. May I never witness them again! We fought in silence. My stroke fell on his left shoulder; it cut the belt of his carabine, which fell to the ground. His blow cut me to the rib, glanced along the bone, and rid me also of the weight of my carabine. He had now advanced too near me to be struck with the sword. I grasped him by the collar. I pushed him backwards; and, with an entangled blow of my Ferrara, I struck him across his throat. It cut only the strap of his head-piece, and it fell off. With a sudden spring, he seized me by the sword belt. Our horses reared, and we both came to the ground. We rolled on the heath in deadly conflict. It was in this situation of matters, that my brave fellows had returned from the rout of the flanking party, to look after their commander. One of them was actually rushing on my antagonist, when I called on him to retire. We started to our feet. Each grasped his sword. We closed in conflict again. After parrying strokes of mine enemy, which indicated a hellish ferocity, I told him, my object was to take him prisoner; that sooner than kill him, I should order my men to seize him. “Sooner let my soul be brandered on my ribs in hell,” said he, “than be captured by a Whigmore. ‘No quarter’ is the word of my Colonel, and my word. Have at the Whig—I dare the whole of you to the combat.”—“Leave the mad man to me—leave the field instantly,” said I to my party, whom I could hardly restrain. My sword fell on his left shoulder.—His sword dropped from his hand.—I lowered my sword, and offered him his life. ‘No quarter,’ said he, with a shriek of despair. He snatched his sword, which I held in my hand, and made a lounge at my breast. I parried his blows till he was nearly exhausted; but, gathering up his huge limbs, he put forth all his energy in a thrust at my heart.—My Andro Ferrara received it, so as to weaken its deadly force; but it made a deep cut. Though I was faint with loss of blood, I left him no time for another blow. My sword glanced on his shoulder, cut through his buff coat, and skin, and flesh; swept through his jaw, and laid open his throat from ear to ear. The fire of his ferocious eye was quenched in a moment. He reeled, and falling with a terrible clash, he poured out his soul with a torrent of blood on the heath. I sunk down, insensible for a moment. My faithful men, who never lost sight of me, raised me up. In the fierce combat, the soldier suffers most from thirst. I stooped down to fill my helmet with the water which oozed through the morass. It was deeply tinged with human blood, which flowed in the conflict above me. I started back with horror; and Gawn Witherspoon bringing up my steed, we set forward in the tumult of the battle.

All this while, the storm of war had raged on our left. Cleland and the fierce Burley had charged the strong company sent to flank them. These officers permitted me to cross the swamp, then, charged them with a terrible shout. ‘No quarter,’ cried the dragoons.

‘Be no quarter to you, then, ye murderous loons,’ cried Burley; and at one blow he cut their leader through the steel cap, and scattered his brains on his followers. His every blow overthrew a foeman. Their whole forces were now brought up, and they drove the dragoons of Clavers into the swamp. They rolled over each other. All stuck fast. The Covenanters dismounted, and fought on foot. They left not one man to bear the tidings to their Colonel.

The firing of the platoons had long ago ceased, and the dreadful work of death was carried on by the sword. At this moment, a trumpet was heard in the rear of our army. There was an awful pause, all looked up. It was only the gallant Captain Nesbit, and his guide, Woodburn of Mains; he had no reinforcements for us, but himself was a host. With a loud huzza, and flourish of his sword, he placed himself by the side of Burley, and cried, ‘jump the ditch, and charge the enemy.’ He and Burley struggled through the marsh. The men followed as they could. They formed and marched on the enemy’s right flank.

At this instant, Hamilton and Hackstone brought forward the whole line of infantry in front. ‘God and our Country’ re-echoed from all the ranks—‘No quarters’ said the fierce squadrons of Clavers.—Here commenced a bloody scene.

I seized the opportunity this moment offered to me of making a movement to the left of the enemy to save my friend King and the other prisoners.—We came in time to save them. Our sword speedily severed the ropes which tyranny had bound on the arms of the men. The weapons of the fallen foe supplied what was lacking of arms; and with great vigour we moved forward to charge the enemy on the left flank. Claverhouse formed a hollow square—himself in the centre; his men fought gallantly; they did all that soldiers could do in their situation. Wherever a gap was made, Clavers thrust the men forward, and speedily filled it up. Three times he rolled headlong on the heath as he hastened from rank to rank, and as often he remounted. My little band thinned his ranks. He paid us a visit. Here I distinctly saw the features and shape of this far-famed man. He was small of stature, and not well formed. His arms were long in proportion to his legs; he had a complexion unusually dark; his features were not lighted up with sprightliness, as some fabulously reported; they seemed gloomy as hell: his cheeks were lank and deeply furrowed; his eye-brows were drawn down and gathered into a kind of knot at their junctions, and thrown up at their extremeties; they had, in short, the strong expression given by our painters to those on the face of Judas Iscariot, his eyes were hollow, they had not the lustre of genius nor the fire of vivacity; they were lighted up by that dark fire of wrath which is kindled and fanned by an internal anxiety, and conciousness of criminal deeds; his irregular and large teeth were presented through a smile, which was very unnatural on his set of features; his mouth seemed to be unusually large from the extremeties being drawn backward and downward—as if in the intense application to something cruel and disgusting; in short, his upper teeth projected over his under lip, and on the whole, presented to my view the mouth on the image of the Emperor Julian the Apostate.—In one of his rapid courses past us, my sword could only shear off his white plumb and a fragment of his buff coat. In a moment he was at the other side of the square. Our officers eagerly sought a meeting with him. ‘He has the proof of lead,’ cried some of our men.—‘Take the cold steel or a piece of silver.’ ‘No,’ cried Burley, ‘It is his rapid movement on that fine charger that bids defiance to any thing like an aim in the tumult of the bloody fray. I could sooner shoot ten heather cocks on the wing, than one flying Clavers.’ At that moment Burley, whose eye watched his antagonist, pushed into the hollow square. But Burley was too impatient. His blow was levelled at him before he came within its reach. His heavy sword descended on the head of Clavers’ horse and felled him to the ground.—Burley’s men rushed pell-mell on the fallen Clavers, but his faithful dragoons threw themselves upon them, and by their overpowering force drove Burley back, Clavers was in an instant on a fresh steed. His bugleman recalled the party who were driving back the flanking party of Burley. He collected his whole troops to make his last and desperate attack. He charged our infantry with such force, that they began to reel. It was only for a moment. The gallant Hamilton snatched the white flag of the Covenant, and placed himself in the fore front of the battle. Our men shouted ‘God and our country,’ and rallied under the flag. They fought like heroes. Clavers fought no less bravely. His blows were aimed at our officers. His steel fell on the helmet of Hackstone, whose sword was entangled in the body of a fierce dragoon, who had just wounded him. He was borne by his men into the rear. I directed my men on Clavers. ‘Victory or death,’ was their reply to me. Clavers received us. He struck a desperate blow at me as he raised himself, with all his force, in the saddle. My steel cap resisted it. The second stroke I received on my Ferrara and his steel was shivered to pieces. We rushed headlong on each other. His pistol missed fire—it had been soaked in blood. Mine took effect. But the wound was not deadly. Our horses reared. We rolled on the ground. In vain we sought to grasp each other. In the mêlée, men and horse tumbled on us. We were for a few moments buried under our men, whose eagerness to save the respective officers brought them in multitudes down upon us. By the aid of my faithful man Gawn, I had extricated myself from my fallen horse; and we were rushing on the bloody Clavers, when we were again literally buried under a mass of men; for Hamilton had by this time brought up his whole line, and he had planted his standard where we and Clavers were rolling on the heath. Our men gave three cheers and drove in the troops of Clavers. Here I was borne along with the moving mass of men; and, almost suffocated and faint with the loss of blood, I knew nothing more till I opened my eye on my faithful attendant. He had dragged me from the very grasp of the enemy, and had borne me into the rear, and was bathing my temples with water. We speedily regained our friends; and what a spectacle presented itself!—It seemed that I beheld an immense moving mass heaped up together in the greatest confusion.—Some shrieking, some groaning, some shouted, horses neighed and pranced, swords rung on the steel helmets. I placed around me a few of my hardy men, and we rushed into the thickest of the enemy in search of Clavers, but it was in vain. At that instant, his trumpet sounded the loud notes of retreat; and we saw on a knoll Clavers borne away by his men. He threw himself on a horse, and without sword, without helmet, he fled in the first ranks of their retreating host. His troops galloped up the hill in the utmost confusion. My little line closed with that of Burley’s, and took a number of prisoners. Our main body pursued the enemy two miles, and strewed the ground with men and horses. I could see the bare-headed Clavers in front of his men, kicking and struggling up the steep sides of Calder hill. He halted only a moment on the top to look behind him, then plunged his rowels into his horse, and darted forward; nor did he recover from his panic till he found himself in the city of Glasgow.

‘And, my children,’ the Laird would say, after he had told the adventures of this bloody day, ‘I visited the field of battle next day; I shall never forget the sight. Men and horses lay in their gory beds. I turned away from the horrible spectacle. I passed by the spot where God saved my life in the single combat, and where the unhappy Captain Arrol fell, I observed that, in the subsequent fray, the body had been trampled on by a horse, and his bowels were poured out. Thus, my children, the defence of our lives, and the regaining of our liberty and religion, has subjected us to severe trials. And how great must be the love of liberty, when it carries men forward, under the impulse of self-defence, to witness the most disgusting spectacles, and to encounter the most cruel hardships of war!’

BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BRIDGE.

“Heu! victa jacet pietas.”

* * * After the ranks of the patriotic Whigs were broken by overwhelming forces, and while Dalzell and Clavers swept the south and west of Scotland like the blast of the desert, breathing pestilence and death—the individual wanderers betook themselves to the caves and fastnesses of their rugged country. This was their situation chiefly from A. D. 1680, to the Revolution. The Laird spent his days in seclusion; but still he fearlessly attended the weekly assemblies in the fields, for the worship of Almighty God. What had he to fear?—His estate had been confiscated. His wife and babes stript by the life guards of the last remnant of earthly comfort which they could take away; and himself doomed as an outlaw, to be executed by the military assassins when taken. He became reckless of the world.

‘I have lived,’ said he in anguish, ‘to see a Prince, twice of his own choice, take the oath of the covenants to support religion, and the fundamental laws of the land. I have lived to see that Prince turn traitor to his country, and, with unblushing impiety order these covenants to be burned by the hands of the executioner. I have seen him subvert the liberty of my country, both civil and religious.—I have seen him erect a bloody inquisition. The priest imposed on us by tyranny, instead of wooing us over by the loveliness of religion, have thrown off the bowels of mercy. They occupy seats in the bloody Council. They stimulate the cruelties of Lauderdale, M’Kenzie and York. Their hands are dipt in blood to the wrests. This Council will not permit us to live in peace. Our property they confiscate. Our houses, they convert into barracks. They drag free men into chains. They bring no witnesses of our guilt.—They invent new tortures to convert us. They employ the thumb-screws and bootkins. If we are silent they condemn us. If we confess our Christian creed, they doom us to the gibbet. Not only our sentence, but the manner of our execution is fixed before our trial. Clavers is our judge; his dragoons are our executioners; and these savages do still continue to employ even the sagacity of blood hounds to hunt us down.—My soul turns away from these loathsome spectacles.’

At this moment his brother John entered, with looks which betrayed unusual anxiety. ‘My brother,’ said he, ‘a trooper advances at full speed, and he is followed by a dark column. We have not even time to fly.’—The mind of the laird like those of the rest of the wanderers, always brightened up at the approach of danger. ‘Let us reconnoiter,’ said he, ‘what do I see, but one trooper. And that motely crowd is but a rabble—not a troop. That trooper is not of Clavers’ band; nor does he belong to Douglas—nor to Ingles—nor to Strachan’s dragoons. He waves a small flag. I can discover the scarlet and blue colour of the Covenanters flag. Ha! welcome you, John Howie of Lochgoin.—But what news?—Lives our country? Lives the good old cause?’—‘Glorious news,’ exclaimed Howie, ‘Scotland for ever! She is free. The tyrant James has abdicated. The Stuarts are banished by an indignant nation, Orange triumphs, our wounds are binding up.—Huzza! Scotland, and King William and the Covenant for ever!’

The Laird made no reply. He laid his steel cap on the ground, and threw himself on his knees; he uttered a brief prayer, in which this was the close: ‘My bleeding country, and thy wailing kirk, and my brethren in the furnace, have come in remembrance before thee. For ever lauded be thy name.’—‘Hasten to the meeting at Lesmahagow. Our friends behind me, you see, have already set out,’ said Howie. And he set out with enthusiastic ardour to spread the news.

‘These news,’ said the Laird, after a long pause while his eyes followed the courser over the plains of Aven—‘these news are to me as life from the dead. I have a mind to meet my old friends at Lesmahagow. And then, when serious business is despatched, we can take Bothwell field in our return. It will yield me at least a melancholy pleasure to visit the spot where we fought, I trust, our last battle against the enemies of our country, and of the good old cause.’

Serious matters of church and state having been discussed at the public meeting, the brothers found themselves, on the fourth day, on the battle ground of Bothwell.

‘On that moor,’ said the Laird, after a long silence—and without being conscious of it, he had, by a kind of instinct, natural enough to a soldier, drawn his sword, and was pointing with it—‘On that moor the enemy first formed under Monmouth. There, on the right, Clavers led on the life-guards, breathing fury, and resolute to wipe off the disgrace of the affair of Drumclog. Dalzell formed his men on that knoll. Lord Livingstone led the van of the foemen. We had taken care to have Bothwell Bridge strongly secured by a barricade, and our little battery of cannon was planted on the spot below us, in order to sweep the bridge. And we did rake it. The foemen’s blood streamed there. Again and again the troops of the tyrant marched on, and our cannon annihilated their columns. Sir Robert Hamilton was our Commander-in-Chief.—The gallant general Hackston stood on that spot with his brave men. Along the river, and above the bridge, Burley’s foot and Captain Nisbet’s dragoons were stationed. For one hour we kept the enemy in check; they were defeated in every attempt to cross the Clyde. Livingstone sent another strong column to storm the bridge. I shall never forget the effect of one fire from our battery, where my men stood. We saw the line of the foe advance in all the military glory of brave and beautiful men, the horses pranced—the armour gleamed. In one moment nothing was seen but a shocking mass of mortality. Human limbs, and the bodies and limbs of horses were mingled in one huge heap, or blown to a great distance. Another column attempted to cross above the bridge. Some threw themselves into the current. One well-directed fire from Burley’s troops threw them into disorder, and drove them back. Meantime, while we were thus warmly engaged, Hamilton was labouring to bring down the different divisions of our main body into action; but in vain he called on Colonel Cleland’s troop—in vain he ordered Henderson’s to fall in—in vain he called on Colonel Fleming’s. Hackstone flew from troop to troop—all was confusion; in vain he besought, he intreated, he threatened. Our disputes and fiery misguided zeal, my brother, contracted a deep and deadly guilt that day. The Whig turned his arm in fierce heat that day against his own vitals. Our Chaplains, Cargil and King, and Kid, and Douglas, interposed again and again, Cargil mounted the pulpit; he preached concord; he called aloud for mutual forbearance. ‘Behold the banners of the enemy,’ cried he, ‘hear ye not the fire of the foe, and of our brethren? Our brothers and fathers are fallen beneath their sword. Hasten to their aid. See the flag of the Covenant. See the motto in letters of gold—“Christ’s Crown and the Covenant.” Hear the wailings of the bleeding Kirk. Banish discord. And let us, as a band of brothers present a bold front to the foeman—Follow me all ye who love your country and the Covenant. I go to die in the fore-front of the battle.’ All the ministers and officers followed him, amidst a flourish of trumpets; but the great body remained to listen to the harangues of the factious.—We sent again and again for ammunition. My men were at the last round. Treachery, or a fatal error, had sent a barrel of raisins instead of powder. My heart sunk within me while I beheld the despair on the faces of my brave fellows, as I struck out the head of the vessel. Hackstone called his officers to him. We threw ourselves around him.—‘What must be done?’ said he in an agony of despair. ‘Conquer or die,’ we said, as if with one voice. ‘We have our swords yet. Lead back the men to their places and let the ensign bear down the blue and scarlet colours. Our God and our country be the word.’ Hackstone rushed forward. We ran to our respective corps—we cheered our men but they were languid and disspirited. Their ammunition was nearly expended, and they seemed anxious to husband what remained. They fought only with their carabines. The cannons could no more be loaded. The enemy soon perceived this. We saw a troop of horse approach the bridge. It was that of the life-guards. I recognised the plume of Clavers. They approached in rapid march. A solid column of infantry followed. I sent a request to Captain Nesbit to join his troop to mine. He was in an instant with me.—We charged the life-guards. Our swords rung on their steel caps.—Many of our brave lads fell on all sides of me. But we hewed down the foe. They began to reel.—The whole column was kept stationary on the bridge. Clavers’ dreadful voice was heard—more like the yell of a savage, than the commanding voice of a soldier. He pushed forward his men, and again we hewed them down. A third mass was pushed up. Our exhausted dragoon fled.—Unsupported, I found myself by the brave Nesbit, and Paton, and Hackstone. We looked for a moment’s space in silence on each other. We galloped in front of our retreating men. We rallied them. We pointed to the General almost alone. We pointed to the white and to the scarlet colours floating near him. We cried, ‘God and our Country.’ They faced about. We charged Clavers once more.—‘Torfoot,’ cried Nesbit, ‘I dare you to the fore-front of the battle.’ We rushed up at full gallop. Our men seeing this followed also at full speed.—We broke down the enemy’s line, bearing down those files which we encountered. We cut our way through their ranks. But they had now lengthened their front. Superior numbers drove us in. They had gained entire possession of the bridge. Livingstone and Dalzell were actually taking us on the flank.—A band had got between us and Burley’s infantry. ‘My friends,’ said Hackstone to his officers, ‘we are last on the field. We can do no more.—We must retreat.—Let us attempt, at least, to bring aid to the deluded men behind us. They have brought ruin on themselves and on us. Not Monmouth, but our own divisions have scattered us.’

At this moment one of the life-guards aimed a blow at Hackstone.—My sword received it—and a stroke from Nesbit laid the foeman’s hand and sword in the dust. He fainted and tumbled from the saddle. We reined our horses, and galloped to our main body. But what a scene presented itself here! These misguided men had their eyes now fully opened on their fatal errors. The enemy were bringing up their whole force against them. I was not long a near spectator of it; for a ball grazed my courser. He plunged and reared—then shot off like an arrow. Several of our officers drew to the same place. On the knoll we faced about—the battle raged below us. We beheld our commander doing every thing that a brave soldier could do with factious men against an overpowering foe. Burley and his troops were in close conflict with Clavers’ dragoons. We saw him dismount three troopers with his own hand. He could not turn the tide of battle, but he was covering the retreat of these misguided men. Before we could rejoin him, a party threw themselves in our way. Kennoway, one of Clavers’ officers led them on. ‘Would to God that this was Grahame himself,’ some of my comrades ejaculated aloud. ‘He falls to my share,’ said I, ‘whoever the officer be.’—I advanced—he met me, I parried several thrusts, he received a cut on the left arm; and the sword by the same stroke, shore off one of his horse’s ears; it plunged and reared. We closed again. I received a stroke on the left shoulder. My blow fell on his sword arm. He reined his horse around, retreated a few paces, then returned at full gallop. My courser reared instinctively as he approached; I received his stroke on the back of my ferrara, and by a back stroke, I gave him a deep cut on the cheek. And before he could recover a position of defence, my sword fell with a terrible blow on his steel cap. Stunned by the blow, he bent himself forward—and, grasping the mane, he tumbled from his saddle, and his steed galloped over the field. I did not repeat the blow. His left hand presented his sword; his right arm was disabled; his life was given to him. My companions having disposed of their antagonists, (and some of them had two a-piece,) we paused to see the fate of the battle. Dalzell and Livingstone were riding over the field like furies, cutting down all in their way. Monmouth was galloping from rank to rank, and calling on his men to give quarter. Clavers, to wipe off the disgrace of Drumclog, was committing dreadful havoc. ‘Can we not find Clavers,’ said Halhead, ‘no,’ said Captain Paton, ‘the gallant Colonel takes care to have a solid guard of his rogues about him. I have sought him over the field; but I found him, as I now perceive him, with a mass of his guards about him.’ At this instant we saw our General, at some distance, disentangling himself from the men who had tumbled over him in the mêlée. His face, his hands, and clothes, were covered with gore. He had been dismounted, and was fighting on foot. We rushed to the spot, and cheered him. Our party drove back the scattered bands of Dalzell. ‘My friends’ said Sir Robert, as we mounted him on a stray horse, ‘the day is lost! But—you Paton; you Brownlee of Torfoot, and you Halhead; let not that flag fall into the hands of these incarnate devils. We have lost the battle, but by the grace of God, neither Dalzell, nor Clavers shall say that he took our colours. My ensign has done his duty. He is down. This sword has saved it twice. I leave it to your care. You see its perilous situation.’ He pointed with his sword to the spot.—We collected some of our scattered troops, and flew to the place. The standard bearer was down, but he was borne upright by the mass of men who had thrown themselves in fierce contest around it. Its well known blue and scarlet colours, and its motto, ‘CHRIST’S CROWN AND COVENANT,’ in brilliant gold letters, inspired us with a sacred enthusiasm. We gave a loud cheer to the wounded ensign, and rushed into the combat. The redemption of that flag cost the foe many a gallant man. They fell beneath our broad swords; and, with horrible execrations dying on their lips, they gave up their souls to their Judge.

Here I met in front that ferocious dragoon of Clavers, named Tam Halliday, who had more than once, in his raids, plundered my halls; and had snatched the bread from my weeping babes. He had just seized the white staff of the flag. But his tremenduous oath of exultation, (we of the covenant never swear)—his oath had scarcely passed its polluted threshold, when this Andrew Ferrara fell on the guard of his steel and shivered it to pieces. ‘Recreant loon!’ said I, ‘thou shalt this day remember thy evil deeds.’ Another blow on his helmet laid him at his huge length, and made him bite the dust. In the mêlée that followed, I lost sight of him. We fought like lions—but with the hearts of Christians. While my gallant companions stemmed the tide of battle, the standard, rent to tatters, fell across my breast. I tore it from the staff, and wrapt it round my body. We cut our way through the enemy, and carried our General off the field.

Having gained a small knoll, we beheld once more the dreadful spectacle below. Thick volumes of smoke and dust rolled in a hazy cloud over the dark bands mingled in deadly fray. It was no longer a battle, but a massacre. In the struggle of my feelings I turned my eyes on the General and Paton. I saw, in the face of the latter, an indiscribable conflict of passions. His long and shaggy eye-brows were drawn over his eyes. His hand grasped his sword. ‘I cannot yet leave the field’ said the undaunted Paton—‘With the General’s permission, I shall try to save some of our wretched men beset by those hell-hounds. Who will go?’—At Kilsyth I saw service. When deserted by my troops, I cut my way through Montrose’s men, and reached the spot where Colonels Halket and Strachan were. We left the field together. Fifteen dragoons attacked us. We cut down thirteen, and two fled. Thirteen next assailed us. We left ten on the field, and three fled. Eleven Highlanders next met us. We paused and cheered each other: ‘Now, Johnny,’ cried Halket to me, ‘put forth your metal, else we are gone,’ nine others we sent after their comrades, and two fled—‘Now, who will join this raid!’[A] ‘I will be your leader,’ said Sir Robert, as we fell into the ranks.

We marched on the enemy’s flank. ‘Yonder is Clavers,’ said Paton, while he directed his courser on him. The bloody man was, at that moment, nearly alone, hacking to pieces some poor fellows already on their knees disarmed, and imploring him by the common feelings of humanity to spare their lives. He had just finished his usual oath against their ‘feelings of humanity,’ when Paton presented himself. He instantly let go his prey and slunk back into the midst of his troopers. Having formed them, he advanced.—We formed, and made a furious onset. At our first charge his troop reeled. Clavers was dismounted.—But at that moment Dalzell assailed us on the flank and rear.—Our men fell around us like grass before the mower. The buglemen sounded a retreat. Once more in the mêlée I fell in with the General and Paton, we were covered with wounds. We directed our flight in the rear of our broken troops. By the direction of the General I had unfurled the standard. It was borne off the field flying at the sword’s point. But that honour cost me much. I was assailed by three fierce dragoons; five followed close in the rear. I called to Paton,—in a moment he was by my side. I threw the standard to the General, and we rushed on the foe. They fell beneath our swords; but my faithful steed, which had carried me through all my dangers was mortally wounded. He fell. I was thrown in among the fallen enemy. I fainted. I opened my eyes on misery. I found myself in the presence of Monmouth—a prisoner—with other wretched creatures, awaiting, in awful suspense, their ultimate destiny. * * * *

W. C. B.

LONG CREDIT.

Soon after the battle of Preston, two Highlanders, in roaming through the south of Mid-Lothian, entered the farm-house of Swanston, near the Pentland Hills, where they found no one at home but an old woman. They immediately proceeded to search the house, and soon finding a web of coarse home-spun cloth, made no scruple to unroll and cut off as much as they thought would make a coat to each. The woman was exceedingly incenced at their rapacity, roared and cried, and even had the hardihood to invoke divine vengeance upon their heads. “Ye villains!” she cried, “ye’ll ha’e to account for this yet!”—“And when will we pe account for’t?” asked one of the Highlanders.—“At the last day, ye blackguards!” exclaimed the woman. “Ta last tay!” replied the Highlander: “Tat pe cood long credit—we’ll e’en pe tak a waistcoat too!” at the same time cutting off a few additional yards of the cloth.

DEATH OF A WATCH.

After the battle of Falkirk, in 1746, a Highlandman was observed extracting a gold watch from the fob of an English officer who had been killed. His comrade viewed him with a greedy eye; which the man taking notice of, said to him “Tamn you gapin’ creedy bitch, gang an’ shoot a shentleman for hersel’, an no envie me o’ my pit watch.” Next morning finding his watch motionless, and meeting his comrade, says to him, “Och! she no be care muckle about a watch, an’ you be like mine what will you gie me for her?” The other replied, “I be venture a kinny.”—“Weel then,” said the other, “Shust tak her, an’ welcome, for she be die yester night.”

CAPTAIN SILK.

In a party of ladies, on it being reported that a Captain Silk had arrived in town, they exclaimed, with one exception, ‘What a name for a soldier!’ ‘The fittest name in the world,’ replied a witty female, ‘for Silk never can be Worsted!’

FOOTNOTE:

[A] This chivalrous defence is recorded, I find, in the life of Captain Paton, in the ‘Scots Worthies,’ Edin. edit. of A. D. 1812. This celebrated Officer was trained up to warfare in the army of Charles Gustavus, King of Sweden. This is a specimen of these heroic Whigs, who brought about the Revolution of A. D. 1688.

AN ELEGY

IN MEMORY

OF THAT VALIANT CHAMPION,

SIR R. GRIERSON,

LATE LAIRD OF LAG,

Who died Dec. 23d, 1733.

WHEREIN

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS

Commends many of his best friends, who were

THE CHIEF MANAGERS,

of the late Persecution.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

AN

ELEGY

IN MEMORY OF

SIR ROBERT GRIERSON,

OF LAG.

What fatal news is this I hear?

On earth who shall my standard bear?

For Lag who was my champion brave,

Is dead and now laid in his grave,

The want of him is a great grief,

He was as my manager and chief,

Who fought my kingdom to promove,

And to my laws he had great love,

Could such a furious fiend as I,

Shed tears, my cheeks could never dry;

But I could mourn both night and day,

’Cause Lag from earth is ta’en away.

It is no wonder I am sad,

A better friend I never had,

Through all the large tract of his time,

He never did my ways decline:

He was my trusty constant liege,

Who at all times did me oblige;

But now what shall I think or say?

By death at last he’s ta’en away.

He was a man of meikle zeal,

Who in my service did not fail;

He was no coward to relent;

No man dare say he did repent,

Of the good service done to me,

For as he liv’d so did he die,

He bore my image on his brow,

My service he did still avow,

He had no other deity,

But this world, the flesh, and me;

Unto us he did homage pay,

And did us worship every day.

The thing that he delighted in,

Was that which pious folk call sin,

Adultery, whoredom, and such vice,

Such pleasures were his paradise.

To curse, to swear, and to blaspheme,

He gloried in and thought no shame;

To excess he drank beer and wine,

Till he was drunken like a swine.

No Sabbath day regarded he,

But spent it in profanity;

’Mongst other vices, as some say,

He ravish’d virgins on that day;

But that which rais’d his fame so high,

Was the good service done to me,

In bearing of a deadly feud,

’Gainst people who did pray and read,

And sought my kingdom to impair,

These were the folk he did not spare,

Any who reads the scriptures through,

I’m sure they’ll find but very few

Of my best friends that’s mentioned there,

That could with Grier of Lag compare;

Though Cain was a bloody man,

He to Lag’s latches never came,

In shedding of the blood of those,

Who did my laws and ways oppose.

Like Saul, who David did pursue,

He rais’d on them the cry and hue,

And cruelly he did oppress,

Such as religion did profess.

Doeg the Edomite did slay,

Fourscore and five priests in one day;

But if you’ll take the will for deed,

Brave Lag did Doeg far exceed.

He of the blood royal was come,

Of Ahab he was a true son;

For he did sell himself to me,

To work sin and iniquity.

Herod for me had great zeal,

Though his main purpose far did fail,

He many slew by a decree,

But did not toil so much for me,

As Lag, who in his person went,

To every place where he was sent,

To persecute both man and wife,

Who he knew led a pious life.

Brave Clavers flourish’d in his day;

And many lives did take away,

He to Rome’s cause most firmly stood,

And drunken was with the saint’s blood,

Which in abundance he did shed,

Of those who from his presence fled,

In moss and mountain, cleugh and glen,

Were slaughter’d by his Highlandmen.

That where he came none might remain,

Who in the least did me defame,

He rifled houses, and did plunder,

In moor and dale many a hunder:

He all the shires in south and west,

When blood and rapine sore opprest.

He to his utmost did contrive,

How he might make my kingdom thrive,

And how he might bring down all those,

That did my government oppose.

His mischief never prosper’d ill

Except one time near Lowdon hill,

Where shamefully he did retreat,

Before a few, who did him beat,

Till more assistance I did give.

And then brave Clavers did revive;

With fury then and hellish rage,

He did these wanderers engage,

And sought their utter overthrow,

In every place where he did go.

He was made Viscount of Dundee,

For venturing his all for me.

This honour he enjoy’d not long,

Soon after this he was ta’en home;

By sudden fate at last he fell,

At Killicrankie, near Dunkel.

No longer he could serve me here;

But Lag survived for many a year,

And constantly stood to his post,

When many a champion brave was lost.

Brave Charles Stewart of renown,

The best that ever wore a crown,

For whoredom and adultery,

For incest and profanity,

For drunkness and for perjury,

He neither word nor oath regarded;

With gibbets he his friend rewarded

When opposition he did meet.

He then did play the hypocrite,

And feign’d himself for reformation,

When he intended deformation.

At Spey and Scoon within a year.

The covenants he twice did swear;

And at Dunfermline did profess

Great sorrow for his naughtiness

But that was all to get the crown,

That he the better might throw down,

That covenanted Presbytery,

That was so opposite to me;

For afterwards he did rescind,

These covenants no more to bind;

And solemnly he gave command,

To burn them by the hangman’s hand.

He caus’d the nations to abjure,

What they call’d reformation pure.

Brave prelacy he did restore,

As it in Scotland was before.

And to this Dagon he caus’d bow,

Scotsman contrary to their vow.

He many a conscience did desire,

Which made me on his count to smile;

Malignants he advanced high.

’Cause they good subjects were to me.

He tolerated heresy,

All error and profanity:

A blasphemous supremacy,

Over the church usurped he;

And granted an indulgency.

Thereby to ruin Presbytry.

My sceptre he did bravely sway,

And punish’d those that did gainsay,

By tortures that were most severe,

By prisoning and loss of gear;

And cruel murders many a way,

Because they from my laws did stray:

But kindness he did ever bear,

No Pope in Rome did ever dwell,

That could this noble prince excell,

For in a word he did advance,

My kingdom more than Rome or France:

Neither Spain nor Germany,

Had so much true zeal for me.

He reigned long but at the last,

His brother York gave him a cast.

He poison’d him and made him die,

And sent him home to my country;

To Tophet that’s both wide and large,

Which he chus’d for his heritage,

Great Middleton, that man of might,

My service he did never slight:

To work he furiously did go,

The covenants to overthrow;

He like Nehustan did them treat,

Like almanacks that’s out of date,

He did rescind their force and power,

And solemly did them abjure,

He nullified all acts and laws,

That favoured the scripture cause;

And ruin’d many a family,

For nought but non-conformity,

If hirelings they would not hear,

Their purse he punish’d most severe;

He made the south of Scotland feel,

His griping claws were made of steel,

They were so crooked, hard, and sharp,

They pierc’d men’s substance to the heart,

The king’s commission while he did bear,

Men lost their conscience, life, and gear,

But Charles too soon him discarded,

Yet I his kindness well rewarded;

And this I hope he’ll not deny,

Since now he lives as well as I.

Fletcher, my friend, he was the first

Advocate who did insist

Against the Whigs in the king’s name,

To bring them to an open shame;

Charles my son did him instal,

To bring these rebels under thral,

Who still for covenants were pleading,

To justify their old proceeding.

He laboured very earnestly

To please his sovereign and me,

By rooting out brave Presbytery,

And planting noble Prelacy;

By shutting up in prison strong

These men who did my interest wrong,

And thristing for the blood of them

Who did my government contemn;

His malice was so set on fire

That nothing could quench his desire,

Until Argyle, mine enemy,

Was brought condignly for to die;

And Guthrie, who did me oppose,

By hanging he his days did close;

And Warriston, the worst of all,

By my friend Fletcher he did fall:

Thus wonderfully he did please me,

When of these rebels he did ease me;

For which good service he doth sit

Among the princes of my pit.

And my dear cousin, Provost Mill,

Burnt covenants, yet thought no ill,

At Lithgow cross, with more disgrace

Than ever was at any place.

He burnt Lex Rex, and other books,

Which sourly on my interest looks;

And many acts of kirk and state,

Which he knew well that I did hate,

’Cause they advanc’d a reformation,

That shook my kingdom thro’ the nation.

He burnt old brechems, roakes, and reels,

Also the picture of the De’il;

I mean myself, ’cause he did think

My effigies would make all stink,

That he burnt on that solemn day,

Upon the twenty-ninth of May.

But my dear cousin was mista’en,

The covenants remained in fame,

By some that did love them so well,

That with their blood they did them seal.

Himself he did to me surrender,

And for a time liv’d in great splendour

Beloved well of all my friends.

Till at the last he lost his means,

And left in want and poverty

Which made him to the Abbey fly;

He who the covenants did burn,

A cheating bankrupt did become,

He lost his senses turn’d demented;

And none but me his case lamented;

And at the end of all did die,

Bemoaned by no man but me.

I did him visit in distress

Where he is now you’ll eas’ly guess.

Turner did Galloway invade

And took from many what they had,

He spared neither old nor young

But plundered all where he did come,

Most savagely he did them treat.

And without mercy some did beat.

He spoil’d that country cruelly,

And acted like a man for me.

A very hellish life he led

As in my cave he had been bred.

Carsphairn can well testify,

The cursing and profanity,

The outrages committed there,

(The half of which might file the air)

By Turner and his company.

Which wonderfully pleased me

Dalziel who fought at Pentland hill,

And many of my foes did kill;

And others prisoners did lead,

Who after quarters were hang’d dead;

A downright atheist he did turn

And ruin’d all where he did come,

That wanted the mark of the beast,

He did not spare them in the least;

In serving me he made his boast.

He was so valiant in my cause,

And so observant of my laws

That to commend him there’s no need.

His works have prais’d him.—Since he’s dead.

Nisbet of Dalstown in his stead.

In open court against Whigs did plead:

And to the gallows did pursue

The Pentland men who did renew

The covenants at Lanark town.

Till they on gibbets were brought down;

And by his rigorous pursuing

He many other Whigs did ruin,

His great exploits pleas’d me so well,

That I his name cannot conceal

But think fit that his deeds be told,

That so his name may be enrol’d

’Mongst other worthies on record

Who serv’d me as their sovereign Lord.

M’Kenzie after did succeed,

As advocate for me to plead.

He turned to apostacy.

And spent his time in blasphemy;

He pled that persons might go free

For murder and for sorcery;

But brought them in guilty of treason,

Who were religious out of season,

By keeping Presbytery in fame

Which king and council did disclaim:

Who of their conscience were so tender

Religion they would not surrender

To please his Majesty and court,

And turn as changes came about:

To scripture they so firmly stood,

On them I did spue out a flood

Of mischief and calamity,

M’Kenzie acted well for me:

Scripture religion at that time,

He made it such a heinous crime,

That for it nought could satisfy,

But guilty persons they must die.

He many a saint pursu’d to death,

He feared neither hell nor wrath.

His conscience was so cauteriz’d,

He refus’d nothing that I pleas’d;

For which he’s had my kindness still,

Since he his labour did fulfil.

Rothes like a sow in mire,

Who of his whoredom did not tire,

But wallow’d in adultery,

In cursing and profanity,

And did allot the Sabbath-day,

To spend it in his game and play;

Perjur’d himself in Mitchell’s case,

To bring that rebel to disgrace,

He did contrive that engine,

That did make Hackston dree great pain,

To rip his breast at my desire,

And burn his heart quick in the fire,

Mangled his hands and took them off,

That they might be the people’s scoff,

And afterwards struck off his pow,

And set it on the Netherbow;

And cut his body all asunder,

And plac’d it for a world’s wonder.

Thus he shook off humanity,

For the respect he had to me.

At last in horror he did die,

And went to Tophet dolefully.

Monmouth did me a noble turn,

When he to Bothwell-bridge did come,

With armed force, with power and might,

He slew and put the Whigs to flight.

Although it was the Sabbath-day,

He would not grant them a delay,

But instantly did hash them down,

And took them captives to the town.

They prisoners were in the Grey friar,

Until a false oath they did swear;

Or in the dungeons were shut close,

Where they their lives were like to lose,

Some got the gallows some the sea,

Some hang’d, some drown’d—that pleased me;

Earishal who serv’d me many a year,

And for my interest did appear;

He serv’d his ’prentiship below,

Then to the mountains he did go,

The Cameronians to defeat,

People whom I do greatly hate,

At Aird’s moss he surpris’d that crew,

Cameron their champion he slew,

And desperately cut off his head,

Also his hands and made him bleed.

Then in great triumph he did go,

To Edinburgh with a great shew,

Much boasting that he had supprest

The Cameronians in the west

He did produce the hands and head

Of Cameron whom he killed dead;

For which the council did him pay

A large reward without delay:

And I myself on him did smile

For that great action done in Kyle;

Because that he avenged me

Upon my stated enemy.

His kindness shall not be forgot

As long as my furnace is hot.

York, who great Charles did succeed,

He was my constant friend indeed

He was bred with me all his days,

And never from my laws did stray;

For he black Popery did profess,

In Scotland he set up the mass.

A toleration he did give

That mystery Babylon might revive,

He took to him absolute power,

For to advance the Romish whore.

He stopped all the penal laws,

Were made for weakening of my cause,

And gave a golden liberty

For all sorts of idolatry.

It criminal was in his day

To own the covenanted way;

For he intended in a short time,

To make Popery through Scotland shine,

That from the greatest to the least

All men might serve the Romish beast.

He deeply sworn was to Rome,

To seek all Presbyterians doom,

To abolish the memory

Of all that opps’d Popery,

All protestants he did despise,

And many slew without assize;

He ordered that they should be shot,

Where they were found in every spot.

By hellish soldiers my drudges,

Whom he empower’d in place of judges,

Suspected persons for to try,

And at their pleasure make them die,

Without allowing liberty,

To fit them for eternity.

He framed all mischief by a law,

To make Scotland an aceldema,

Threatened to make a hunting field,

Of shires that would not fully yield,

He all the venom of the pit

Against piety did spit,

He hated all maliciously.

Had any sovereign but me;

Disdained common honesty,

Lov’d nothing but impiety.

He in my service posted fast,

Until his projects got a blast.

When Orange did come o’er the sea,

Like a base coward he did flee.

Then he did abdicate the crown,

And after liv’d a vagabond;

Till at St. Bermains he did die,

And then he did come home to me.

I need not speak of Queensberry.

No man was loyaler than he:

He serv’d me well with all his might,

Against the Whigs with great despight,

While York’s commission he did bear,

Upon that he was most severe.

By him the parliament was led;

Saints blood like water then he shed.

He confidently did declare

They should not have time to prepare

For heaven because he said that hell

Was too good a place for Whigs to dwell.

By that he acted to his power,

Both soul and body to devour;

Which was the only thing I sought,

Although to pass it was not brought;

Yet thanks be unto Queensberry,

For his good will in serving me.

I Milton Maxwell must commend,

Ten Whigs at once he did condemn,

And after that he did devote

Himself my kingdom to promote.

M’Cartney he did apprehend,

Brought him to an untimous end.

He plagued the presbyterians sore,

That dwelt on the water of Orr,

For Corsack’s house he rifled bare,

And neither nurse nor bairn did spare,

But thurst them out from house and hold,

To hunger them exposed and cold;

He did leave nothing in that house

That was to him of any use;

The horse, the colt, the corn, the sheep,

He every thing away did sweep.

He rang’d through like a greedy thief,

Took butter, cheese, mutton, and beef;

The puddings he did scarcely spare,

For every thing away he bear.

Of cloth and clothes silver and gold,

He took far more than can be told:

The blackest sight that country saw,

Worse than Pate Barley or John Faw.

All his zeal was mixt with self,

He very greedy was of pelf.

Yet all he took but short time lasted,

The Whigs did say that it was blasted,

For all his offspring that remain

Have none of his well gotten gain.

When I perceiv’d that it was gone,

I out of pity brought him home,

Now Whigs may sleep in a sound skin,

They’ll never get mair skaith of him.

My friends that were of lower note,

In justice should not be forgot,

As Allison, who here did dree

A hell on earth for pleasing me.

Bonshaw more fierce than I can tell,

Who bade some send the Whigs to hell;

And my beloved Kennaway

Who plagu’d the hill men every day.

’Bove twenty journeys in one year

This varlet willingly did go,

To hasten the fanatic’s woe

Strahan Murray and Annandale.

Who in my cause had great zeal,

Drummond, Stretton and bloody Reid,

Who shot my foes till they were dead,

Buchan, Inglis, and Westerhall,

Balfour and others great and small.

Stenhouse, Maitland and Bollochmiln,

Culzean and Windrum, men of skill.

Crichton, Lauder, and many more,

Who sought the hill-men’s overthrow.

Halton, who did himself perjure,

To bring Mitchel to an ill hour.

Lowrie of Maxwelton also.

Unto these wild men was a foe.

And so was Carick of Stewarton,

Bailie, and these gave Smith his doom.

And all the bishops in the land,

Were ready still at my command,

My statutes for to execute,

On all whom I did persecute.

Dumbarton, Bruce, and Rob Dalziel,

And other worthies I could tell,

As Ezekiel Montgomery.

The bloodiest monster that could be,

And that vile wretch call’d sheriff Hume,

That was right worthy of his room;

And old tree-legged Duncan Grant,

Who of his wickedness did vaunt.

Eglinton, Ironcaple and lord Ross,

Who did the Whigs murder and toss,

From sixty to the revolution,

Imbrewed their hands in persecution

They murder’d and did stigmatise,

Such as my service did not please:

They banished them to foreign nations,

And sold them to the new plantations,

With rigour great they took their gear,

Because they my livery would not wear,

None forwarder among them all,

Than noble Grierson of Lag-hall,

Whose worthy actions make him fit

In the great chair now to sit,

’Bove Korah and his company,

For all his friendship done to me.

This honour he doth well deserve,

For he unweariedly did serve

Me to his utmost every way,

To keep my kingdom from decay.

I must remember bishop Sharp,

For the good service I did get

Of him, when he was here away;

He did the Scottish kirk betray,

And all its privileges sold

For pleasure here and love of gold;

He fill’d the land with perjury,

And all sorts of iniquity;

And did the force of Scotland lead

To persecute the woman’s seed.

Judas who did his master sell,

And afterwards went down to hell,

Had no more mischief in his mind,

Than Sharp this noble friend of mine.

A paction past twixt him and me

That I from skaith should keep him free:

I gave him sorcery, gainst lead

That shooting should not be his dead,

And yet this did not him secure,

He lost, his life on Magus-muir;

There some stout-hearted men in Fyfe,

With swords of steel did take his life;

And very justly did him kill

’Cause he their brethren’s blood did spill.

So to this place he did descend,

But after him Lag did contend

For my kingdom many a day:

But now, alas! he’s ta’en away.

What shall I say? for time would fail,

To tell you of brave Lauderdale.

A great apostate he did prove,

Because with Balaam he did love

The wages of iniquity.

To keep him in prosperity;

That his beastly belly might

Have Epicurean delight;

To spend his time in carnal pleasure,

Which he esteem’d above all treasure.

He was a member among those

Who strictest models did compose,

Upon the Presbyterian side

But quickly he from them did slide.

These covenants which once he swore,

Most solemnly he did abjure,

All tenderness he did cast off,

On scripture he did droll and scoff.

To prelate Sharp be thought no shame

Above Rabshakeh to blaspheme.

By habit he did curse and swear,

He harlot’s company did bear.

He did counsel and assist

The king who after blood did thirst,

To bring all to a final end

For covenants that did contend.

All public mischiefs in the land

Were done at Lauderdale’s command.

In Mitchel’s case he did perjure

Himself most wrongfully he swore;

For conscience he regarded not,

Himself he wholly did devote

To serve king Charles and myself,

And to advance his wordly pelf

Persisting in these courses still,

Did grieve and anger one Cargil;

So Charles, York, Monmouth and he,

Were all deliver’d o’er to me;

Rothes, M’Kenzie and Dalziel,

Unto my lot each man they fell,

A company of as brave men,

As ever minister did send

By such a sentence unto me;

Whom I embrac’d most willingly,

’Cause formerly I did commend

In many things these worthy men.

Now those brave heroes I must leave,

And some few instances I’ll give

Of these brave actions which Lag did,

That ought no longer to be hid.

In Galloway he was well known

His great exploits in it were shewn.

He was my general in that place,

He did the Presbyterians chase,

Through moss and muir, and many a bog,

They were pursu’d by my friend Lag.

Saint’s monuments that’s here and there,

If any will to them repair,

’Mongst others there you’ll read his name,

And know he was a man of fame.

On many there he forc’d the test,

By perjury them sore opprest.

And when he brought them to disgrace,

He mocked them unto their face.

From others he did take their gear,

He neither mercy had nor fear,

Yet this did not his wrath allay,

For others he did seek to slay

Cubine and Gordon, near Hallhill,

He took their life their blood to spill,

And left them hanging on a tree,

For disobedience to me.

John Bell of Whiteside he did slay,

And would not give him time to pray

And other four in that same hour

He shot upon Kirkconnel Muir.

Mayfield, Clement, and Irlingtown,

Macrabet he brought also down;

And made them all a sacrifice,

His hellish fury to appease.

Two men in Twingham some did find,

And with hair tethers did them bind.

Like sheep for slaughter there they lay,

George Short and David Halliday;

Till Lag came up and gave command

To kill them quickly out of hand.

Against them he had such despite,

He would not let them live one night,

So in that posture they were shot

Most cruelly upon the spot.

Lachlane and Wilson in the sea

He drown’d cause they obey’d not me,

Though they were of the weaker sex,

No favour they of him did get:

And cruelly he took the life

Both of a young maid and a wife.

The kirk by excommunication

Did banish him out of their region;

Because he would not satisfy,

Them for his vile adultery:

For he knew well that I could thole

His vices all, without controul,

That he should have both peace and ease,

In doing things that I do please,

He clave as close unto my law

As any man I ever saw.

In atheism his days did spend

Until his time drew near an end.

Then for the fashion he did say,

That he was of the Popish way;

Because a priest made him believe,

That he to him would pardon give,

And would from purgatory bring

Him to a place where he would sing;

But that was but a forged lie.

For Lag lives hot and bien with me,

It was in spite he money gave

Unto the priest that greedy slave,

For he had neither pith nor power

To keep my friend from me an hour;

For when I heard that he was dead,

A legion of my den did lead

Him to my place of residence,

Where still he’ll stay, and not go hence:

For purgatory I must tell,

It is the lowest place in hell:

Well plenish’d with the Romish sort,

Where thousands of them do resort.

There many a prince and pope doth dwell,

Fast fetter’d in that lower cell,

And from that place they ne’er win free,

Though greedy priests for gain do lie.

In making ignorants conceive,

They’ll bring them from the infernal cave,

Such as do bribe them well with gold

As heaven with pelf were bought and sold.

Sure that is but a vain deceit

Contriv’d by Antichrist of late;

To keep the worshippers of the Whore

Senseless in sin, blind and secure;

And to make priest look fat and fine,

Who nought but carnal things do mind.

For this is what I truly know,

They come not back from whence they go,

They who take their abode with me,

From that place they are never free.

This Lag will know and all the rest,

Who of my lodging are possest.

On earth no more they can serve me,

But still I have their company:

With this I must my grief allay,

So I no more of Lag will say.

FINIS

A

WEDDING-RING,

FIT FOR THE FINGER:

LAID OPEN IN A SERMON,

PREACHED AT A WEDDING IN ST. EDMOND’S.

BY WILLIAM SECKER,

LATE PREACHER OF THE GOSPEL.

GENESIS ii. 18.

And the LORD GOD said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help-meet for him.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

A

WEDDING-RING,

FIT FOR THE FINGER.

A SERMON ON GENESIS ii. 18.

And the Lord God said, it is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a help-meet for him.

Human misery is to divine mercy, as a black soil to a sparkling diamond; or as a sable cloud to the sun-beams, Psalm viii. 4.—Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him?

Man is, in his creation, angelical; in his corruption, diabolical; in his renovation, theological; in his translation, majestical.

There were four silver channels in which the chrystal streams of God’s affection ran to man in his creation.

1. In his preparation. 2. In his Assimilation. 3. In his coronation. 4. In his Association.

1. In his preparation. Other creatures received the character of their beings by a simple fiat; but there was a consultation at his forming; not for the difficulty, but for the dignity of the work. The painter is most studious about that which he intends to make his master-piece. The four elements were taken out of their elements to make up the perfection of man’s complexion: the fire was purified, the earth was refined. When man was moulded, heaven and earth was married; a body from the one was espoused to a soul from the other.

2. In his assimilation. Other creatures were made like themselves, but man was made like God, as the wax hath the impression of the seal upon it. It is admirable to behold so fair a picture in such coarse canvas, and so bright a character in so brown paper.

3. In his coronation. He that made man, and all the rest, made man over all the rest; he was a little lord of a great lordship: this king was crowned in his craddle.

4. In his association. Society is the solace of humanity; the world would be a desert, without a comfort.

Most of man’s parts are made in pairs; now he that was double in his perfection, must not be single in his condition.

And the Lord said, &c. These words are like the iron gate that opened to Peter of its own accord, dividing themselves into three parts:—

1. An Introduction: And the Lord God said. 2. An Assertion: It is not good that man should be alone. 3. A Determination: I will make an help-meet for him.

In the first there is a majesty proposed. In the second there is a malady presented. In the third there is a remedy provided.

Once more let me put these grapes into the press.

1. The sovereignness of the expression: And the Lord God said. 2. The solitaryness of the condition: It is not good, &c. 3. The suitableness of the provision; I will make, &c.

In the first there is the worth of veracity. In the second, there is the want of society. In the third, there is the work of divinity. Of these in their order. And first of the first.

1. The sovereignness of the expression: And the Lord God said, &c.

Luke i. 70. “As he spoke by the mouths of his prophets.” In other scriptures he used their mouths, but in this instance he makes use of his own; they were the organs, and he the breath; they the streams, and he the fountain. How he spake, it is hard to determine: whether eternally, internally, or externally. We are not to inquire into the manner of speaking, but into the matter that is spoken; which leads me, like a directing star, from the suburbs to the city, from the porch to the palace, from the founder of the mine, to the treasure that is in it: It is not good, &c.

In which we have two things:—

1. The Subject. 2. The Predicate.

The subject, Man alone. The predicate, It is not good, &c. 1. The subject, Man alone. Take this in two branches.

1. As it is limited to one man.

2. As it is lengthened to all men.

FIRST, As it is limited to one man: And so it is taken particularly: Man, for the first man. When all other creatures had their mates, Adam wanted his; though he was the emperor of the earth, and the admiral of the seas, yet in Paradise without a companion; though he was truly happy, yet he was not fully happy; though he had enough for his board, yet he had not enough for his bed; though he had many creatures to serve him, yet he wanted a creature to solace him; when he was compounded in creation, he must be completed by conjunction; when he had no sin to hurt him, then he must have a wife to help him: It is not good that man should be alone.

SECONDLY, As it is lengthened to all men: And so it is taken universally, Heb. xiii. 4. Marriage is honourable unto all. It is not only warrantable, but honourable. The whole trinity hath conspired together to set a crown of glory upon the head of matrimony.

1. God the Father. Marriage was a tree planted within the walls of Paradise; the flower first grew in God’s garden.

2. The Son. Marriage is a crystal glass, wherein Christ and the saints do see each other’s faces.

3. The Holy Ghost, by his overshadowing of the blessed virgin. Well might the world when it saw her pregnancy, suspect her virginity; but her matremonial condition was a grave to that suspicion: without this, her innocency had not prevented her infamy; she needed a shield to defend that chastity abroad which was kept inviolable at home.

Too many that have not worth enough to preserve their virginity, have yet will enough to cover their unchastity; turning the medicine of frailty into the mantle of filthiness. Certainly she is mad that cuts off her leg to get her a crutch; or that venoms her face to wear a mask.

Paul makes it one of the characters of those that should cherish the faith, 1 Tim. iv. 3. not to forbear marriage; which is not only lawful but also honourable; to forbid which, is damnably sinful, and only taught by the influence of devils. One of the Popes of Rome sprinkles this unholy and impure drop upon it, Carnis pollutionem et immundiliem.

It is strange that should be a pollution which was instituted before corruption; or that impurity which was ordained in the state of innocency; or that they should make that to be a sin, which they make to be a sacrament; strange stupidity!—But a bastard may be laid at the door of chastity, and a leaden crown set upon a golden head. Bellarmine (that mighty atlas of the Papal power) blows his stinking breath upon it: “Better were it for a priest to defile himself with many harlots, than to be married to one wife.”—These children of the purple whore prefer monasteries before marriages, a concubine before a companion.—They use too many women for their lusts, to choose any for their love.—Their tables are so largely spread that they cannot feed upon one dish. As for their exalting of a virgin-state, it is like him that commanded fasting, when he had filled his belly. Who knows not, that virginity is a pearl of a sparkling lustre? but the one cannot be set up, without the other be thrown down: No oblation will pacify the former, but the demolishing of the latter. Though we find many enemies to the choice of marriage, yet it is rare to find any enemies to the use of marriage. They would pick the lock that wants the key, and pluck the fruit that do not plant the tree. The Hebrews have a saying, “that he is not a man that hath not a wife.” Though they climb too high a bough, yet it is to be feared that such flesh is full of imperfection, that is, not tending to propogation: though man alone may be good, yet, It is not good that man should be alone. Which leads me from the subject to the predicate, It is not good.

Now, it is not good that man should be in a single condition on a threefold consideration.

1. In respect of sin, which would not else be prevented: Marriage is like water, to quench the sparks of lust’s fire, 1 Cor. vii. 2. Nevertheless, to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, &c. Man needed no such physic when he was in perfect health. Temptations may break nature’s best sense, and lay its Paradise waste; but a single life is a prison of unruly desires, which is daily attempted to be broken open. Some, indeed force themselves to a single life, merely to avoid the charges of a married state; they choose rather to live in their own sensuality, than to extinguish those flames with an allowed remedy: It is better to marry than to burn:—to be lawfully coupled, than to be lustfully scorched. It is best to feed these flames with ordinate fuel.

2. It is not good in respect of mankind, which then would not be propagated. The Roman historian, relating the ravishing of the Sabine women, excused them thus, ‘Without them mankind would fall from the earth, and perish.’ Marriages do turn mutability into the image of eternity: it springs up new buds when the old are withered. It is a great honour for a man to be the father of one son, than to be the master of many servants. Without a wife, children cannot be had lawfully; without a good wife, children cannot be had comfortably. Man and woman, as the flock and the scion, being grafted in marriage, are trees bearing fruit to the world. Augustine says, ‘They are the first link of human society, to which all the rest are joined.’ Mankind had long ago decayed, and been like a taper fallen into the socket, if those breaches which are made by mortality were not repaired by matrimony.

3. It is not good in regard of the church, which could not then have been expatiated. Where there is no generation, there can be no regeneration. Nature makes us creatures before grace makes us Christians. If the loins of men had been less fruitful, the death of Christ would have been less successful. It was a witty question that one put to him that said, “Marriage fills the earth, but virginity fills the heavens:” How can the heavens be full if the earth be empty? Had Adam lived in innocency without matrimony, there would have been no servants of God in the church militant, nor no saints with God in the church triumphant. But I will not sink this vessel by the over-burthen of it, nor press this truth to death by laying too great a load upon its shoulders. There is one knot which I must untie, before I make a farther progress, viz.

1 Cor. vii. 1. It is good for a man not to touch a woman. Do all the scriptures proceed out of the same mouth; and do they not all speak the same truth? The God of unity will not indite discord; and the God of verity cannot assert falsehood. If good and evil be contraries, how contrary then are these two scriptures? Either Moses mistakes God, or Paul mistakes Moses, about the point of marriage. To which I shall give a double answer.

1. There is a public and a private good. In respect of one man, it may be good not to touch a woman; but in respect of all men, It is not good that man should be alone.

2. Moses speaks of the state of man created; Paul of the state of man corrupted: Now, that which by institution was a mercy, by corruption may become a misery; as pure water is tainted by running through a miry channel, or as the sun-beams receive a tincture by shining through a coloured glass. There is no print of evil in the world, but sin was the stamp that made it. They that seek nothing but weal in its commission, will find nothing but woe in the conclusion. Which leads me from the solitariness of the condition, Man alone, to the suitableness of the provision, I will make an help-meet for him.

In which we have two parts, 1. The Agent, I will make. 2. The Object, An help.

1. The Agent, I will make. We cannot build a house without tools, but the Trinity is at liberty. To God’s omniscience there is nothing impossible. We work by hands, without; but he works without hands. He that made man meet for help, makes a meet-help for man. Marriages are consented above, but consumated below, Prov. xviii. 22. Though man wants supply, yet man cannot supply his wants, James i. 17. Every good and perfect gift comes from above, &c. A wife, though she be not a perfect gift, yet she is a good gift. These beams are darted from the Son of Righteousness. Hast thou a soft heart? It is of God’s breaking. Hast thou a sweet wife? She is of God’s making. Let me draw up this with double application.

1. When thou layest out for such a good on earth, look up to the God of heaven; let him make thy choice for thee, who made his choice of thee. Look above you, before you, about you; nothing makes up the happiness of a married condition, like the holiness of a mortified disposition: account not those the most worthy, that are the most wealthy. Art thou matched to the Lord? Match in the Lord. How happy are such marriages where Christ is at the wedding! Let none but those who have found favour in God’s eyes, find favour in yours.

2. Give God the tribute of your gratulation for your good companions. Take head of paying your rent to a wrong landlord: when you taste of the stream, reflect upon the spring that feeds it. Now thou hast four eyes for thy speculation, four hands for thy operation, four feet for thy abulation, and four shoulders for thy sustentation. What the sin against the Holy Ghost is, in point of divinity, that is unthankfulness, in point of morality, an offence unpardonable. Pity it is, but that moon should be ever in an eclipse, that will not acknowledge her beams to be borrowed from the sun. He that praises not the giver, prizes not the gift. And so I pass from the Agent to the Object, A help.

She must be so much, and no less; and so much, and no more. Our ribs were not ordained to be our rulers. They are not made of the head, to claim superiority; but out of the side, to be content with equality. They desert the Author of nature, who invert the order of nature. The woman was made for the man’s comfort, but the man was not made for the woman’s command. Those Shoulders aspire too high, that content not themselves with a room below their heads. It is between a man and his wife in the house, as it is between the sun and the moon in the heavens, when the greater light goes down the lesser light gets up; when the one ends in setting, the other begins in shining. The wife may be a sovereign in her husband’s absence, but she must be subject in her husband’s presence. As Pharaoh said to Joseph, so should the husband say to his wife, “thou shalt be over my house, and according to thy word shall all my people be ruled, only on the throne will I be greater than thou,” Gen. xli. 40. The body of that household can never make any good motion, whose bones are out of place. The woman must be a help to the man in these four things:—1. To his piety. 2. To his society. 3. To his progeny. 4. To his prosperity. To his piety, by the ferventness of her excitation. To his society, by the fragrantness of her conversation. To his progeny, by the fruitfulness of her education. To his prosperity, by her faithful preservation.

1. To his piety, by the ferventness of her excitation, 1 Pet. ii. 7. Husband and wife should be as the two milch-kine, which were coupled together to carry the ark of God; or as the two cherubims, that looked one upon another, and both upon the mercy-seat; or as the two tables of stone, on each of which were engraven the laws of God. In some families married persons are like Jeremiah’s two basket of figs, the one very good, the other very evil; or like fire and water, whilst the one is flaming in devotion, the other is freezing in corruption. There is a two-fold hinderance of holiness: 1. On the right side. 2. On the left. On the right side; when the wife would run in God’s way, the husband will not let her go; when the fore-horse in a team will not draw, he wrongs all the rest; when the general of an army forbids a march, all the soldiers stand still. Sometimes on the left: How did Solomon’s idolatrous wife draw away his heart from heaven? A sinning wife was Satan’s first ladder, by which he scaled the wall of Paradise, and took away the fort-royal of Adam’s heart from him. Thus she, that should have been the help of his flesh, was the hurt of his faith; his nature’s under-proper, became his grace’s under-miner; and she that should be a crown on the head, is a cross on the shoulders. The wife is often to the husband as the ivy is to the oak, which draws away his sap from him.

2. A help to his society, by the fragrantness of her conversation. Man is an affectionate creature; now the woman’s behaviour should be such towards the man, as to requite his affection by increasing his delectation; that the new-born love may not be ruined before it be rooted. A spouse should carry herself so to her husband, as not to disturb his love by her contention, nor to destroy his love by her alienation. Husband and wife should be like two candles burning together, which makes the house more lightsome; or like two fragrant flowers bound up in one nosegay, that augments its sweetness; or like two well-tuned instruments, which sounding together, make the more melodious music. Husband and wife, what are they but as two springs meeting, and so joining their streams, that they make but one current? It is an unpleasing spectacle to view any contention in that conjunction.

3. To his progeny, by the fruitfulness of her education; that so her children in the flesh may be God’s children in the spirit, 1 Sam. i. 11. Hannah she vows, if the Lord will give her a son, she would give him to the Lord, to serve him. A spouse should be more careful of her children’s breeding, than she should be fearful of her children’s bearing. Take heed, lest these flowers grow in the devil’s garden.—Though you bring them out in corruption, yet do not bring them up to damnation!—Those are not mothers but monsters, that whilst they should be teaching their children the way to heaven with their lips, are leading them the way to hell with their lives. Good education is the best livery you can give them living; and it is the best legacy you can leave them dying. You let out your cares to make them great, O lift up your prayers to make them good, that before you die from them, you may see Christ live in them. Whilst these twigs are green and tender, they should be bowed towards God. Children and servants are in a family, as passengers in a boat; husband and wife, they are as a pair of oars, to row them to their desired haven. Let these small pieces of timber be hewed and squared for the celestial building. By putting a sceptre of grace into their hands, you will set a crown of glory upon their heads.

4. A help to his prosperity, by her faithful preservation, being not a wanderer abroad, but a worker at home. One of the ancients speaks excellently: She must not be a field-wife, like Dinah; nor a street-wife, like Thamar; nor a window-wife, like Jezabel. Phildeas, when he drew a woman, painted her under a snail-shell; that she might imitate that little creature, that goes no further than it can carry its house upon its head. How many women are there, that are not labouring bees, but idle drones; that take up a room in the hive, but bring no honey to it; that are moths to their husbands’ estates, spending when they should be sparing. As the man’s part is, to provide industriously, so the woman’s is, to preserve discreetly; the one must not be carelessly wanting, the other must not be causelessly wanting; the man must be seeking with diligence, the woman must be saving with prudence. The cock and hen both scrape together in the dust-heap, to pick up something for the little chickens. To wind up this on a short bottom.

1. If the woman be a help to the man, then let not the man cast dirt on the woman.

Secundus being asked his opinion of a woman, said, Viri naufragium, domus tempestas, quietus impedimentum, &c. But surely he was a monster and not a man; fitter for a tomb to bury him, than a womb to bear him. Some have styled them to be like clouds in the sky; like motes in the sun; like snuffs in the candle; like weeds in the garden. But it is not good to play the butcher with that naked sex, that hath no arms but for embraces. A preacher should not be silent for those who are silent from preaching: because they are the weaker vessels, shall they be broken all to pieces? Thou that sayest women are evil, it may be thy expression flows from thy experience; but I shall never take that mariner for my pilot, that hath no better knowledge than the splitting of his own ship. Wilt thou condemn the frame of all, for the fault of one? As if it were true logic, because some are evil therefore none are good. He hath ill eyes that disdains all objects. To blast thy helper is to blame thy Maker. In a word, we took our rise from their bowels, and may take our rest in their bosoms.

2. Is the woman to be a help to the man? Then let the man be a help to the woman. What makes some debtors to be such ill pay-masters, but because they look at what is owing to them, but not at what is owing by them. If thou wouldst have thy wife’s reverence, let her have thy respect. To force a tear from this relation, is that which neither benefits the husband’s authority to enjoin, nor the wife’s duty to perform. A wife must not be sharply driven, but sweetly drawn. Compassion may bend her, but compulsion will break her. Husband and wife should act towards each other with consent, not by constraint. There are four things wherein the husband is a meet-help to the wife.

1. In his protection of her from injuries. It is well observed by one, that the rib of which woman was made, was taken from under his arm: As the use of the arm is to keep off blows from the body, so the office of the husband is to ward off blows from the wife. The wife is the husband’s treasury, and the husband the wife’s armoury. In darkness he should be her sun, for direction; in danger he should be her shield for protection.

2. In his providing for her necessities. The husband must communicate maintenance to the wife, as the head conveys influence to the members; thou must not be a drone, and she a drudge. A man in a married estate, is like a chamberlain in an inn, there is knocking for him in every room. Many persons in that condition, waste that estate in luxury, which should supply their wife’s necessity. They have neither the faith of a Christian, nor the love of a husband! It is a sad spectacle to see a virgin sold with her own money unto slavery, when services are better than marriages; the one receives wages, whilst the other buy their fetters.

3. In his covering of her infirmities. Who would trample upon a jewel, because it is fallen in the dirt, or throw away a heap of wheat for a little chaff, or despise a golden wedge, because it retains some dross? These roses have some prickles. Now husbands should spread a mantle of charity over their wives’ infirmities. They be ill birds that defile their own nests. It is a great deal better you should fast than feast yourselves upon their failings. Some husbands are never well longer than they are holding their fingers in their wife’s sores. Such are like crows, that fasten only upon carrion. Do not put out the candle because of the snuff. Husbands and wives should provoke one-another to love; and they should love one-another notwithstanding of provocation. Take heed of poisoning those springs from whence the streams of your pleasure flow.

4. By his delighting in her society: a wife takes sanctuary not only in her husband’s house, but in his heart. The tree of love should grow up in the family, as the tree of life grew up in the garden of Eden. They that choose their love, should love their choice. They that marry where they affect not, will affect where they marry not. Two joined together without love, are but tied together to make one another miserable. And so I pass to the last stage of the text, A help-meet.

‘A help,’ there is her fallness; ‘A meet-help,’ there is her fitness. The angels were too much above him; the inferior creatures too much below him; he could not step up to the former, nor could he stoop down to the latter; the one was out of his reach, the other was out of his race; but the woman is a parallel line drawn equal with him. Meet she must be in three things.

1. In the harmony of her disposition. Husband and wife should be like the image in a looking-glass, that answers in all properties to the face that stands before it; or like an echo, that returneth the voice it receiveth. Many marriages are like putting new wine into old bottles. An old man is not a meet-help for a young woman: He that sets a grey head upon green shoulders, hath one foot in the grave and another in the cradle: Yet, how many times do you see the spring of youth wedded to the winter of old age?—A young man is not a meet-help for an old woman; raw flesh is but an ill plaister for rotten bones. He that in his non-age marries another in her dotage, his lust hath one wife in possession, but his love another in reversion.

2. In heraldry of her condition. Some of our European nations are so strict in their junctions, that it is against their laws for the commonality to couple with the gentry. It was well said by one, “If the wife be too much above her husband, she either ruins him by her vast expenses, or reviles him with her base reproaches; if she be too much below her husband, either her former condition makes her too generous, or her present mutation makes her too imperious.”—Marriages are styled matches, yet amongst those many that are married, how few are there that are matched! Husbands and wives are like locks and keys, that rather break than open, except the wards be answerable.

3. In the holiness of her religion. If adultery may seperate a marriage contracted, idolatry may hinder a marriage not perfected. Cattle of divers kinds were not to ingender. 2 Cor. vi. 14. Be not unequally yoked, &c. It is dangerous taking her for a wife, who will not take God for a husband. It is not meet that one flesh should be of two spirits. Is there never a tree thou likest in the garden but that which bears forbidden fruit? There are but two channels in which the remaining streams shall run:—1. To those men that want wives, how to choose them. 2. To those women who have husbands, how to use them.

Marriage is the tying of such a knot, that nothing but death can unloose. Common reason suggests so much, that we should be long a-doing that which can but once be done. Where one design hath been graveled in the sands of delay, thousands have been split on the rock of precipitance. Rash adventures yield gain. Opportunities are not like tides, that when one is past, another returns; but yet take heed of flying without your wings; you may breed such agues in your bones, that may shake you to your graves. 1. Let me preserve you from a bad choice. 2. Present you with a good one. To preserve you from a bad choice, take that in three things: 1. Choose not for beauty. 2. Choose not for dowry. 3. Choose not for dignity. He that loves to beauty, buys a picture; he that loves for dowry, makes a purchase; he that leaps for dignity, matches with a multitude at once. The first of these is too blind to be directed; the second too base to be accepted; the third too bold to be respected. 1. Choose not by your eyes. 2. Choose not by your hands. 3. Choose not by your ears.

1. Choose not by your eyes, looking at the beauty of the person. Not but this is lovely in a woman; but that this is not all for which a woman should be beloved. He that had the choice of many faces stamps this character upon them all, favour is deceitful and beauty is vain. The sun is more bright in a clear sky, than when the horizon is clouded; but if a woman’s flesh hath more of beauty than her spirit hath of christianity, it is like poison in sweet-meats, most dangerous: “The sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were fair,” Gen. vi. 2. One would have thought that they should rather have looked for grace in the heart, than for beauty in the face: take care of running at the fairest signs; the swan hath black flesh under her white feathers.

2. Choose not by your hands, for the bounty of the portion. When Cato’s daughter was asked why she did not marry? she thus replied, she could not find the man that loved her person above her portion. Men love curious pictures, but they would have them set in golden frames. Some are so degenerate as to think any good enough, who have but goods enough. Take heed, for sometimes the bag and baggage go together. The person should be a figure, and the portion a cypher, which added to her, advances the sum, but alone signifies nothing. When Themistocles was to marry his daughter, two suitors courted her together, the one rich and a fool, the other wise but poor; and being asked which of the two he had rather his daughter should have? he answered Mallem virum fine pecuni: ‘I had rather she should have a man without money, than money without a man.’

3. Choose not by your ears, for the dignity of her parentage. A good old stock may nourish a fruitless branch. There are many children who are not the blessings, but the blemishes of their parents; they are nobly descended, but ignobly minded: Such was Aurelius Antonious, of whom it was said, that he injured his country of nothing, but being the father of such a child. There are many low in their descents, that are high in their deserts; such as the cobler’s son, who became a famous captain; when a great person upbraided the meanness of his original, “My nobility,” said he, “began with me, but thy nobility ends with thee.” Piety is a greater honour than parentage. She is the best gentlewoman that is heir of her own deserts, and not the degenerate offspring of another’s virtue. To present you with a good choice in three things.

1. Choose such a one as will be a subject to your dominion. Take heed of yoking yourselves with untamed heifers.

2. Choose such a one as may sympathize with you in your affliction. Marriage is just like a sea voyage, he that enters into this ship, must look to meet with storms and tempests, 1 Cor. vii. 20. They that marry shall have trouble in the flesh. Flesh and trouble are married together, whether we marry or no; now a bitter cup is too much to be drunk by one mouth. A heavy burthen is easily carried by assistance of other shoulders. Husband and wife should neither be proud flesh, nor dead flesh. You are fellow-members, therefore you should have a fellow-feeling. While one stands safe on the shore, pity should be shown to him that is tost on the sea. Sympathy in suffering is like a dry house in a wet day.

3. Choose such a one as may be serviceable to your salvation. A man may think he hath a saint, when he hath a devil; but take heed of a harlot, that is false to thy bed; and of a hypocrite, that is false to thy God.

2. To those women who have husbands, how to use them. In two things.

1. Carry yourselves towards them with obedience. Let their power command you, that their praise may commend you. Though you may have your husband’s heart, yet you should love his will. Till the husband leaves commanding, the wife must never leave obeying. As his injunctions must be lawful, so her subjection must be loyal.

2. With faithfulness. In creation, God made not woman for many men, or many women for one man. Every wife should be to her husband as Eve was to Adam, a whole world of women; and every husband should be to his wife as Adam was to Eve, a whole world of men. When a river is divided into many channels, the main current starves.

To conclude, Good servants are a great blessing; good children a greater blessing; but a good wife is the greatest blessing: And such a help let him seek for her that wants one, let him sigh for her that hath lost one, let him take pleasure in her that enjoys one.

Where there is nothing but a picture of virtue, or a few shadowy qualities that may subsist without any real excellency, death will hide them for ever in the night of despair. The blackness of darkness will close upon the naked and wandering ghost; whilst its loathsome remains are consigned to oblivion and putrefaction in the prison of the grave, with the prospect of a worse doom hereafter. But where there is a living image of true goodness begun in this state, death will deliver it with safety into the finishing hand of eternity, to be produced with every mark of honour in the open view of heaven; where its now mortal partner, rescued from the dishonours of the dust, and brightened into the graces of eternal youth, shall rejoin it in triumph, to suffer the pangs of separation no more. EVERLASTING JEHOVAH! what a crown of joy will it confer on the preacher in that day, if this little service shall be rewarded with the reflection of having contributed to the salvation or improvement of any of these young persons whom he now addresses! If ever thine ear was open to my cry, hear me, O Lord! hear me in their behalf. What cannot thy spirit perform, perform by the weakest hand? May that spirit seal them to the day of redemption. At that glorious period, may I meet you all amongst the redeemed of the Lord, happy to see you shining with immortal splendour in the general assembly and church of the first born, transported to think that I shall live with you for ever, and joining in the gratulations of your fellow-angels around the throne of God, when He shall, in the sight of all, clothe you with the garment of salvation, and cover you with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom is decked with ornaments, and as a bride is adorned with her Jewels. Amen.

LADY FRETFUL,

A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE.

Her general style of conversation runs on the inconveniences to be expected from this or that circumstance, and no one is so ingenious in extracting unsuspected evil from plans of the fairest promise. Is the weather fine, and a walk mentioned—It is hot—it is dusty—the wind is in the east—there was rain in the morning—it will be dirty—or it will rain before we reach home. Is she to go out in the carriage; one road is too long for the horses—another is unpleasant—another unsafe—and, in short, none are exactly right. Yet she goes on these proposed expeditions, after all possibility of pleasure has been reasoned and anticipated away. If she is going out to dinner, she is sure the company will be unpleasant—the servants will get drunk—she shall be robbed, or overturned in coming home. If she is to have a party at home, she knows every thing will go wrong—nobody will be amusing—the time will hang heavy—the people will go away, execrating the stupidity of the visit. If she sees any lady employed about a piece of work, she prognosticates it will be unfashionable before it is finished, she sees any one reading, she never new any good come of reading, but to make young people unfit for conversation. If her husband is going a hunting, she hates hunting, it is so dangerous. If he goes for a ride, she is surprised he can take pleasure in sitting on his horse for hours together. If he is in his library, she never saw such a book-worm. If he sits in the parlour, she hates men always at their wive’s apron strings. Thus does she sour every common occurance of life by the most ingenious optical delusion, looking at every thing in the worst point of view.

What absurdity to imbitter one’s alloted portion of happiness by so obstinately persisting to anticipate inconvenience! Why not be disposed to think fair appearances promise fair conclusions? Why, if the sun shines in the morning, be unwilling to enjoy it then? And, if it rains, why not be always inclined to hope the weather will brighten?

THE

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS,

FROM THIS WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME.

GLASGOW;

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

The progress of the Pilgrim is here represented by Christian leaving the City of Destruction, in terror and alarm at its fate. He is met by Evangelist, who, directed him to fly from the wrath to come; and keep yonder shining light in his eye, where it should be told him what to do.

Christian had not proceeded far, till he fell into the slough of Despond, and was relieved by one called Help, who set him on his way. He was afterwards beguiled by Worldly-wiseman; but was again put right way by Evangalist.

Christian at length arrived at the gate, upon which was inscribed “knock and it shall be opened.” He knocked and it was opened by one Goodwill, who let him in. Beelzebub as he entered gave him a pull but Christian escaped.

Christian having fairly escaped Beelzebub and his emissaries; was kindly welcomed by Goodwill, and shewed many rare sights by Interpreter: he passed the walls of salvation and came to a cross, where his bundle dropped off.

Christian now being rid of his burden, pushed on more lightly, and took the narrow path up the hill, and struggled hard till he arrived at the arbour, prepared by the Lord of the place for weary pilgrims, where he sat and refreshed himself.

When Christian had got to the top of the hill he met two men running, named Timorous and Mistrust; who said they had been bound for Mount Zion, but meeting with two Lions, they were afraid: Christian passed the Lions, who, being chained, could not hurt him.

When Christian lift up his eyes, he beheld the Palace of Beautiful; and after a few interrogations, was admitted by a damsel called Discretion, who with her two sisters, Piety and Prudence, he held a long conversation.

After leaving these good damsels, Christian passed on his way; and in the middle of the valley of Humiliation, he met with Apollion, with whom he had a bloody struggle; Apollion throwing darts as thick as hail: but at last Christian overcame.

Now at the end of this valley was another called the valley of the shadow of death; in the midst of which he perceived the mouth of hell; from which flame and smoke issued out in such abundance, that he was obliged to put up his sword and betake himself to All-prayer.

Shortly after this he came up with Faithful; with whom he held sweet converse till they came to Vanity Fair. A merchant asking what they would buy, they said the truth; which he took amiss, and raised a hubbub; so that they were both taken up and put in a cage, for public view.

Christian and Faithful were brought before Mr. Hategood, to stand their trial. Envy, Superstition, and Hypocrisy, were brought forward as evidences, who did not fail to tell a partial story; which a partial jury confirmed; and Faithful was condemned to die at the stake.

Faithful was then brought out and suffered at the stake: Thus came he to his end, but there stood behind the multitude a chariot, and horses into which he was taken up and carried through the clouds. Christian escaping went on his way.

Christian soon fell in with Hopeful, another pilgrim, with whom he journeyed; and they having slept in the policies of Doubting Castle, were taken prisoners, by Giant Despair, who treated them harshly: a key found in Christian’s bosom, opened the doors, and they made their escape.

Having escaped from Giant Despair, they soon met with the Shepherds of the Delectable Mountains. Leaving this country, they came to the enchanted ground, where they fell in with some of the shining inhabitants, of the City.

Christian and Hopeful drawing nigh to the Celistial City, beheld the streets were paved with pure gold, but there was a very deep river through which they must pass the Pilgrims were alarmed and begun to sink; but rose again and were welcomed on the other side by two glorious persons.

Christian’s wife and children wept for him, until a heavenly messenger gave her a letter to follow her husband, and live with him for ever. At first she was overcome, but taking the road with all her children they fell in with Mercy, and went toward the wicket gate.

After they had got safely through the Slough of Despond, they arrived at the gate, where they knocked a long time, till at length the keeper called out “Who’s there,” and opened the gate, and taking Christiana by the hand welcomed them saying “Suffer little children to come unto me.”

With some difficulty Mercy was admitted, and they safely arrived at Interpreter’s house; supper being ready, and thanks given, they partook of a hearty repast; Interpreter asked how she became a pilgrim, she said, it was by the loss of her husband, and a letter from the King of Zion.

In the morning they were much refreshed. Greatheart was sent along with them to guide them on their way. They passed the place where the load fell from Christian’s back; and came to the place where Simple, Sloth, and Presumption were hanging in chains.

They soon arrived at the Hill of Difficulty; Greatheart shewed them the spring where Christian drank; they then begun to ascend the hill, but Christiana began to pant and want rest; but Greatheart encouraged them, telling them they were near the Arbour, where they would find rest.

Being refreshed at the Arbour, and approaching Doubting Castle, Greatheart determined to level it with the ground. He and the giant had a severe fight, but the giant was overcome. They then demolished the Castle, and released many prisoners, where many strange sights were seen.

They still persevered on in their journey by the straight way, and narrow path of pilgrims; occasionally meeting with difficulties and encouragement, till they arrived at the land of Beulah, where the sun shines night and day; and here they betook themselves to rest.

Now while they lay here there was a post came from the Celestial City, with a letter to Christiana: the contents were “Hail good woman! I bring thee good tidings that the master calleth for thee, and expecteth that thou shouldst stand in his presence within these ten days.”

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. So the road was full of people to see her take her journey. So she came forth and entered the river with a beckon of farewell to those that follow her to the river side. The last words she was heard to say, were, “I come, Lord, to be with thee, and bless thee.”

So her children and friends returned to their place; for those that waited for Christiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went and called and entered in at the gate with all the ceremonies of Joy that Christian had done before her.

FINIS.

DIVINE SONGS

FOR

THE USE OF CHILDREN.

BY I. WATTS, D.D.

“Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth.”

GLASGOW:

PUBLISHED BY FRANCIS ORR AND SONS.

1847.

DIVINE SONGS.

I.—A General Song of Praise to God.

1 How glorious is our heavenly King,

who reigns above the sky!

How shall a child presume to sing

his dreadful Majesty?

2 How great his power is, none can tell,

Nor think how large his grace;

Not man below, nor saints that dwell

on high before his face:

3 Nor angels that stand round the Lord,

can search his secret will;

But they perform his heavenly word,

and sing his praises still.

4 Then let me join this holy train,

and my first off’rings bring;

The eternal God will not disdain

to hear an infant sing.

5 My heart resolves, my tongue obeys,

and angels shall rejoice,

To hear their mighty Maker’s praise

sound from a feeble voice.

II.—Praise for Creation and Providence.

1 I sing the Almighty power of God,

that made the mountains rise,

That spread the flowing seas abroad,

and built the lofty skies.

2 I sing the wisdom that ordain’d

the sun to rule the day;

The moon shines full at his command,

and all the stars obey.

3 I sing the goodness of the Lord,

that filled the earth with food;

He formed the creatures with his word,

and then pronounc’d them good.

4 Lord, how many wonders are display’d

where’er I turn mine eye!

If I survey the ground I tread,

or gaze upon the sky.

5 There’s not a plant or flower below,

but makes thy glories known;

And clouds arise, and tempests blow,

by order from thy throne.

6 Creatures (as numerous as they be)

are subject to thy care;

There’s not a place where we can flee,

but God is present there.

7 In heaven he shines with beams of love,

with wrath in hell beneath;

’Tis on his earth I stand or move,

and ’tis his air I breath.

8 His hand is my perpetual guard,

he keeps me with his eye;

Why should I then forget the Lord,

who is for ever nigh?

III.—Praise to God for our Redemption.

1 Blest be the wisdom and the power,

the justice and the grace,

That joined in counsel to restore

and save our ruin’d race.

2 Our father ate forbidden fruit,

and from his glory fell;

And we, his children, thus were brought

to death, and near to hell.

3 Blest be the Lord that sent his Son

to take our flesh and blood;

He for our lives gave up his own,

to make our peace with God.

4 He honour’d all his Father’s laws,

which we have disobey’d;

He bore our sins upon the cross,

and our full ransom paid.

5 Behold him rising from the grave;

behold him raised on high;

He pleads his merits there to save

transgressors doom’d to die.

6 There on a glorious throne he reigns

and by his power divine,

Redeems us from the slavish chains

of Satan and of sin.

7 Then shall the Lord to judgment come,

and with a sovereign voice

Shall call and break up every tomb,

while waking saints rejoice.

8 O may I then with joy appear

before the Judge’s face;

And with the blessed assembly there,

sing his redeeming grace!

IV.—Spiritual and Temporal Mercies.

1 Whene’er I take my walks abroad,

how many poor I see!

What shall I render to my God

for all his gifts to me!

2 Not more than others I deserve,

yet God has given me more;

For I have food, while others starve,

or beg from door to door.

3 How many children in the street

half naked I behold!

While I am clothed from head to feet,

and covered from the cold!

4 While some poor wretches scarce can tell

where they may lay their head,

I have a house wherein to dwell,

and rest upon my bed.

5 While others early learn to swear,

and curse, and lie, and steal,

Lord, I am taught thy name to fear,

and do thy holy will.

6 Are these thy favours day by day,

to me above the rest?

Then let me love thee more than they

and try to serve thee best.

V.—Praise for Birth and Education in a Christian Land.

1 Great God! to thee my voice I raise,

to thee my youngest hours belong;

I would begin my hours with praise,

till growing years improve the song.

2 ’Tis to thy sov’reign grace I owe

that I was born on British ground,

Where streams of heavenly mercy flow,

and words of sweet salvation sound.

3 I would not change my native land

for rich Peru, with all her gold:

A nobler prize lies in my hand

than East, or Western Indies hold.

4 How do I pity those that dwell

where ignorance and darkness reign;

They know no heaven they fear no hell,

the endless joy, the endless pain!

5 Thy glorious promises, O Lord!

kindle my hope and my desire:

While all the preachers of thy word

warn me to ’scape eternal fire.

6 Thy praise shall still employ my breath,

since thou hast mark’d my way to heaven,

Nor will I run the road to death,

and waste the blessings thou hast given.

VI.—Praise for the Gospel.

1 Lord, I ascribe it to thy grace,

and not to chance, as others do,

That I was born of Christian race,

and not a Heathen or a Jew.

2 What would the ancient Jewish kings

and Jewish prophets once have given

Could they have heard those glorious things

which Christ reveal’d and brought from heaven!

3 How glad the heathens would have been,

that worshipp’d idols, wood, and stone,

If they the book of God had seen,

or Jesus and his gospel known!

4 Then if this gospel I refuse,

how shall I e’er lift up mine eyes?

For all the Gentiles and the Jews

against me will in judgment rise.

VII.—The Excellency of the Bible.

1 Great God, with wonder and with praise

on all thy works I look;

But still thy wisdom, power, and grace,

shine brightest in thy book.

2 The stars, that in their courses roll,

have much instruction given;

But thy good word informs my soul

how I may climb to heaven.

3 The fields provide me food, and show

the goodness of the Lord;

But fruits of life and glory grow

in thy most holy Word.

4 Here are choicest treasures hid;

here my best comfort lies;

Here my desires are satisfied,

and hence my hopes arise.

5 Lord, make me understand thy law,

show what my faults have been;

And from thy gospel let me draw

pardon for all my sin.

6 Here would I learn how Christ has died

to save my soul from hell;

Not all the books on earth beside

such heavenly wonders tell.

7 Then let me love my Bible more,

and take a fresh delight

By day to read thy wonders o’er,

and meditate by night.

VIII.—Praise to God for learning to read.

1 The praises of my tongue

I offer to the Lord,

That I was taught and learn’d so young

to read his holy word.

2 That I am brought to know

the danger I was in,

By nature, and by practice too,

a wedded slave to sin:

3 That I am led to see

I can do nothing well;

And whither shall a sinner flee

to save himself from hell?

4 Dear Lord! this book of thine

informs me where to go

For grace to pardon all my sin,

and make me holy too.

5 Here I can read and learn

how Christ, the Son of God,

Did undertake our great concern,—

our ransom cost his blood.

6 And now he reigns above,

he sends his Spirit down

To show the wonders of his love,

and make his gospel known.

7 O may that Spirit teach,

and make my heart receive

Those truths which all thy servants preach,

and all thy saints believe!

8 Then shall I praise the Lord

in a most cheerful strain,

That I was taught to read his Word,

and have not learned in vain.

IX.—The All-seeing God.

1 Almighty God, thy piercing eye

strikes through the shades of night,

And our most secret actions lie

all open to thy sight.

2 There’s not a sin that we commit,

nor wicked word we say,

But in thy dreadful book ’tis writ

against the judgment day.

3 And must the crimes that I have done

be read and publish’d there?

Be all exposed before thy Son,

while men and angels hear?

4 Lord, at thy feet asham’d I lie,

upward I dare not look;

Pardon my sins before I die,

and blot them from thy book.

5 Remember all the dying pains

that my Redeemer felt,

And let his blood wash out my stains,

and answer for my guilt.

6 O may I now for ever fear

T’ indulge a sinful thought,

Since the great God can see and hear

and writes down every fault.

X.—Solemn Thoughts of God and Death.

1 There is a God that reigns above,

lord of the heavens and earth and seas,

I fear his wrath, I ask his love,

and with my lips I sing his praise.

2 There is a law which he has writ,

to teach us all what we must do;

My soul, to his commands submit,

for they are holy, just and true.

3 There is a gospel of rich grace,

whence sinners all their comfort draw

Lord, I repent and seek thy face,

for I have often broke thy law.

4 There is an hour when I must die,

nor do I know how soon ’twill come;

A thousand children young as I

are called by death to hear their doom.

5 Let me improve the hours I have,

before the day of grace is fled;

There’s no repentance in the grave,

nor pardon offered to the dead.

6 Just as a tree cut down, that fell

to north or southward, there it lies:

So man departs to heaven or hell,

fix’d in the state wherein he dies.

XI.—Heaven and Hell.

1 There is beyond the sky,

a heaven of joy and love;

And holy children when they die,

go to that world above.

2 There is a dreadful hell,

and everlasting pains,

Where sinners must with devils dwell,

in darkness, fire, and chains.

3 Can such a wretch as I

escape this cursed end?

And may I hope whene’er I die,

I shall to heaven ascend?

4 Then will I read and pray,

while I have life and breath,

Lest I should be cut off to-day,

and sent t’ eternal death.

XII.—The advantages of early Religion.

1 Happy the child whose tender years

receive instruction well;

Who hates the sinner’s path, and fears

the road that leads to hell.

2 When we devote our youth to God,

’tis pleasing in his eyes;

A flower, when offer’d in the bud,

is no vain sacrifice.

3 ’Tis easier work, if we begin

to fear the Lord betimes;

While sinners, who grow old in sin,

are hardened in their crimes.

4 ’Twill save us from a thousand snares,

to mind religion young;

Grace will preserve our following years,

and make our virtue strong.

5 To thee, Almighty God, to thee,

our childhood we resign;

’Twill please us to look back and see

that our whole lives were thine.

6 Let the sweet work of prayer and praise

employ my youngest breath;

Thus I’m prepared for longer days,

or fit for early death.

XIII.—The Danger of Delay.

1 Why should I say, “’Tis yet too soon

to seek for heaven, or think of death?”

A flower may fade before ’tis noon,

and I this day may lose my breath.

2 If this rebellious heart of mine

Despise the gracious call of Heaven,

I may be hardened in my sin,

and never have repentance given.

3 What if the Lord grew wroth and swear,

while I refuse to read and pray,

That he’ll refuse to lend an ear

to all my groans another day.

4 What if his dreadful anger burn

while I refuse his offer’d grace,

And all his love to fury turn,

and strike me dead upon the place.

5 ’Tis dangerous to provoke our God!

his power and vengeance none can tell;

One stroke of his Almighty rod

shall send young sinners down to hell.

6 Then ’twill for ever be in vain

to cry for pardon and for grace,

To wish I had my time again,

or hope to see my Maker’s face.

XIV.—Against Lying.

1 O ’tis a lovely thing for youth

to walk betimes in wisdom’s way:

To fear a lie, to speak the truth,

that we may trust to all they say!

2 But liars we can never trust,

tho’ they should speak the thing that’s true;

And he that does one fault at first,

and lies to hide it, makes it two.

3 Have we not known, nor heard, nor read,

how God abhors deceit and wrong,

How Ananias was struck dead,

Caught with a lie upon his tongue?

4 So did his wife Sapphira die,

when she came in, and grew so bold,

As to confirm the wicked lie

that just before her husband told.

5 The Lord delights in them that speak

the words of truth; but every liar

Must have his portion in the lake

that burns with brimstone and with fire.

6 Then let me always watch my lips,

lest I be struck to death and hell,

Since God a book of reck’ning keeps

for every lie that children tell.

XV.—Against Quarrelling and Fighting.

1 Let dogs delight to bark and bite

for God hath made them so;

Let bears and lions growl and fight,

for ’tis their nature too;

2 But children, you should never let

such angry passions rise;

Your little hands were never made

to tear each other’s eyes.

3 Let love through all your actions run,

and all your words be mild;

Live like the blessed Virgin’s Son,

that sweet and lovely Child.

4 His soul was gentle as a lamb;

and, as his stature grew,

He grew in favour both with man

and God his Father too.

5 Now Lord of all he reigns above;

and from his heavenly throne

He sees what children dwell in love,

and marks them for his own.

XVI.—Love between Brothers and Sisters.

1 Whatever brawls disturb the street,

there should be peace at home;

Where sisters dwell and brothers meet

quarrels should never come.

2 Birds in their little nests agree,

and ’tis a shameful sight

When children of one family

fall out, and chide, and fight.

3 Hard names at first, & threat’ning words,

that are but noisy breath,

May grow to clubs and naked swords,

to murder and to death.

4 The devil tempts one mother’s son

to rage against another;

So wicked Cain was hurried on

till he had kill’d his brother.

5 The wise will make their anger cool,

at least before ’tis night;

But in the bosom of a fool

it burns till morning light.

6 Pardon, O Lord, our childish rage,

our little brawls remove,

That, as we grow to riper age,

our hearts may all be love.

XVII.—Against Idleness and Mischief.

1 How doth the little busy bee

improve each shining hour,

And gather honey all the day

from every opening flower.

2 How skilfully she builds her cell!

how neat she spreads her wax!

And labours hard to store it well

with the sweet food she makes.

3 In works of labour, or of skill,

I would be busy too:

For Satan finds some mischief still

for idle hands to do.

4 In books, or works, or healthful play

let my first years be past,

That I may give for every day

some good account at last.

XIII.—Against Evil Company.

1 Why should I join with those in play

in whom I’ve no delight,

Who curse and swear, but never pray

who call ill names, and fight?

2 I hate to hear a wanton song;

their words offend my ears;

I should not dare defile my tongue

with language such as theirs.

3 Away from fools I’ll turn my eyes,

nor with the scoffers go;

I would be walking with the wise,

that wiser I may grow.

4 From one rude boy that’s used to mock,

ten learn the wicked jest;

One sickly sheep infects the flock,

and poisons all the rest.

5 My God, I hate to walk or dwell

with sinful children here;

Then let me not be sent to hell,

where none but sinners are.

XIX.—Against Pride in Clothes.

1 Why should our garments, made to hide

Our parents’ shame, provoke our pride?

The art of dress did ne’er begin

Till Eve, our mother, learned to sin.

2 When first she put the covering on,

Her robe of innocence was gone;

And yet her children vainly boast

In the sad marks of glory lost.

3 How proud we are! how fond to show

Our clothes! and call them rich and new!

When the poor sheep and silkworms wore

That very clothing long before.

4 The tulip and the butterfly

Appear in gayer coats than I;

Let me be dress’d fine as I will,

Flies, worms, and flowers excel me still.

5 Then will I set my heart to find

Inward adornings of the mind;

Knowledge and virtue, truth and grace,

These are the robes of richest dress.

6 No more shall worms with me compare;

This is the raiment angels wear;

The Son of God, when here below,

Put on this blest apparel too.

7 It never fades, it ne’er grows old,

Nor fears the rain, nor moth, nor mould;

It takes no spot, but still refines;

The more it’s worn, the more it shines.

8 In this on earth should I appear,

Then go to heav’n and wear it there,

God will approve it in his sight;

’Tis his own work, and his delight.

XX.—Obedience to Parents.

1 Let children that would fear the Lord

hear what their teachers say;

With reverence meet their parents’ word,

and with delight obey.

2 Have we not heard what dreadful plagues

are threat’ned by the Lord,

To him that breaks his father’s law,

or mocks his mother’s word?

3 What heavy guilt upon him lies!

how cursed is his name!

The ravens shall pick out his eyes,

and eagles eat the same.

4 But those who worship God, and give

their parents honour due,

Here on this earth they long shall live,

and live hereafter too.

XXI.—The Child’s Complaint.

1 Why should I love my sports so well,

so constant at my play,

And lose the thoughts of heaven and hell,

and then forget to pray?

2 What do I read my Bible for,

but, Lord, to learn thy will?

And shall I learn to know thee more,

and less obey thee still?

3 How senseless is my heart and wild!

how vain are all my thoughts!

Pity the weakness of a child,

and pardon all my faults.

4 Make me thy heav’nly voice to hear,

and let me love to pray,

Since God will lend a gracious ear

to what a child can say.

XXII.—A Morning Song.

1 My God, who makes the sun to know

his proper hour to rise,

And to give light to all below,

dost send him round the skies:

2 When from the chambers of the east

his morning race begins,

He never tires, nor stops to rest,

but round the world he shines;

3 So, like the sun, would I fulfil

the business of the day,

Begin my work betimes, and still

march on my heav’nly way.

4 Give me, O Lord, thine early grace,

nor let my soul complain

That the young morning of my days

has all been spent in vain.

XXIII.—An Evening Song.

1 And now another day is gone,

I’ll sing my Maker’s praise;

My comforts every hour make known

his providence and grace.

2 But how my childhood runs to waste

my sins, how great their sum!

Lord, give me pardon for the past,

and strength for days to come.

3 I lay my body down to sleep;

let angels guard my head,

And through the hours of darkness keep

their watch around my bed.

4 With cheerful heart I close my eyes,

since thou wilt not remove;

And in the morning let me rise

rejoicing in thy love.

XXIV.—For the Lord’s Day Morning.

1 This is the day when Christ arose

so early from the dead;

Why should I keep my eyelids close,

and waste my hours in bed?

2 This is the day when Jesus broke

the powers of death and hell;

And shall I still wear Satan’s yoke,

and love my sins so well?

3 To-day with pleasure Christians meet,

to pray, and hear thy Word,

And I will go with cheerful feet

to learn thy will, O Lord.

4 I’ll leave my sport to read and pray,

and so prepare for heaven:

O may I love this blessed day

the best of all the seven!

XXV.—For the Lord’s Day Evening.

1 Lord, how delightful ’tis to see

A whole assembly worship thee!

At once they sing, at once they pray,

They hear of heaven and learn the way.

2 I have been there, and still would go,

’Tis like a little heaven below;

Nor all my pleasures, nor my play,

Shall tempt me to forget that day.

3 O write upon my mem’ry, Lord,

The test and doctrines of thy Word,

That I may break thy laws no more,

But love thee better than before.

4 With thoughts of Christ, and things divine

Fill up this foolish heart of mine;

That, hoping pardon through his blood,

I may lie down, and wake with God.

FINIS.

THE

PLANT OF RENOWN:

BEING

TWO SERMONS,

PREACHED BY THE

REV. EBENEZER ERSKINE,

LATE MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL IN STIRLING.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

PLANT OF RENOWN.

SERMON I.

EZEKIEL, xxxiv. 29.

And I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown.

If we cast our eyes back upon the foregoing part of this chapter, we shall find a very melancholy scene casting up; we shall find the flock and heritage of God scattered, robbed and peeled by the civil and ecclesiastical rulers that were in being in that day; a day much like to the day wherein we live: the ruin of the church of Christ in all ages and periods of the world, has been owing to combinations betwixt corrupt churchmen, and corrupt statesmen; and so you will find it. In the preceding part of this chapter there is a high charge brought in against the Shepherds of Israel, and a terrible and awful threatening denounced by the great and chief shepherd against them, for the bad treatment that the flock of Christ had met with in their hands: However the sheep of Christ may be fleeced, and scattered, and spoiled, yet the Lord looks on them; and many great and precious promises are made for their encouragement in that evil day; you may read them at your own leisure, for I must not stay upon them just now. But among all the rest of the promises that are made, Christ is the chief; Christ is the To-look of the church, whatever trouble she be in. In the 7th chapter of Isaiah, the church had a trembling heart, God’s Israel was shaken as ever you saw the leaves of the wood shaken by the wind, by reason of two Kings combining against them: Well, the Lord tells them, “A Virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and call his name IMMANUEL.” But, might not the church say, what is that to us? What encouragement doth this afford in the present distress? Why, the Messiah is to come of the tribe of Judah and the family of David; and therefore that tribe and family must be preserved, in order to the accomplishment of that promise. Whatever distance of time, suppose hundreds or thousands of years, may intervene before the actual coming of the Messiah; yet the promise of his coming, as it is the ground of your faith for eternal salvation, so it is a security for the present, that the enemy shall not prevail, to the total ruin of Judah and the royal family of David. In all the distresses of the church, Christ is always presented to her, in the promise, as the object of her faith, and the ground of her consolation; and accordingly, “They looked to him,” in the promise, “and were lightened; and their faces were not ashamed.” He is here promised under the notion of God’s Servant; and, in the words of the text, he is promised as a Renowned Plant, that was to rise in the fulness of time. And, blessed be God, he has sprung up, and is in heaven already, and has overtopt all his enemies, and all his enemies shall be his foot-stool.

First, Here then, you have a comfortable promise of the Messiah; where, again, you may notice the promiser: I, I will raise up, &c. It is a great I, indeed; it is JEHOVAH, in the person of the FATHER: It was he that in a peculiar manner, sent him; “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.—In the fulness of time he sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the adoption of Sons.” God promised to send him, and accordingly he has actually fulfilled his promise. Again,

Secondly, We may notice the blessing promised, and that is, a Plant of Renown.—Christ gets a great many metaphorical names and descriptions in Scripture:—Sometimes he is called a Rose, sometimes he is called a Sun, and sometimes he is called a Door; sometimes he is called the Tree of Life; sometimes he is called one thing, and sometimes another; And he is content to be called any thing, to make himself known to us; and here he is called a Plant, and a Renowned Plant; but more of this afterwards. But then,

Thirdly, We have the production of this Plant, I will raise him up. Hell will endeavour to keep him down; the Devil and his Angels will endeavour to smother him, when he sets his head above ground: So we find Satan sends Herod, and Herod sends the Bloody Dragoons to murder him, when he came into the world: But let hell do its utmost, as it hath done in all ages, and is doing this day, to smother that plant, up it will be; I will raise him up, and therefore he shall prosper. But then again,

Fourthly, We may notice here, for whom, or for what end, for whose use and benefit it is: I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown. Who these are, you will see by casting your eye on the former part of this chapter; it is for the Lord’s flock, his oppressed heritage, that are borne down by wicked rulers, civil and ecclesiastic: I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown, and he will be their deliverer.

The doctrine that naturally arises from this first clause of the verse, is in short this, “That Christ is a Plant of Renown, of God’s raising up, for the benefit and advantage of his people, or for their comfort and relief in all their distresses; he is a Renowned Plant of God’s raising up.”

Now, in discoursing this doctrine, if time and strength would allow, I might,

First, Premise a few things concerning this blessed Plant.

Secondly, I might enquire, why he is called a Plant of Renown?

Thirdly, Speak a little to the raising up of this Plant.

Fourthly, For whom he is raised up.

Fifthly, For what end. And then,

Lastly, Apply.

As to the first of these, namely,

First, To premise a few things concerning this blessed Plant.

First, I would have you to know what is here attributed and ascribed to Christ: It is not to be understood absolutely of him as God, but officially as he is Mediator and Redeemer. Considering him absolutely as God, this cannot be properly said of him, that he was raised up: for he is God co-equal and co-essential with the Father; But viewing him as Mediator, he is a Plant, as it were of God’s training. You will see from the context, all that is said of Christ has a respect to him as a Mediator, that he was to be God’s Servant to do his work: In that consideration he is here called a Plant, and a Plant of Renown. Hence, Zacharias, when speaking of him, has a phrase much to the same purpose; “He hath raised up a Horn of Salvation for us in the house of his servant David.” Again,

Secondly, Another thing I would have you to remark, is, That this Plant is but small and little in the eyes of a blind world. He was little looked upon when he sprung up in his Incarnation; and when he was here in a state of humiliation, men looked upon him “as a Root sprung up out of a dry ground; they saw no comeliness in him why he should be desired.” And to this day, though he be in a state of exaltation at the right hand of God, yet he is little thought of, and looked upon, by the generality of mankind, and the hearers of the gospel; He is despised and rejected of men. But then,

Thirdly, Another thing I would have you to remark, is, That however contemptible this Plant of Renown is in the eyes of a blind world, yet he is the tallest Plant in all God’s Lebanon, there is not the like of him in it, “He is fairer than the children of men;” and, “He is as the apple-tree among the trees of the wood,” If ever you saw him, you will be ready to say so too, and with David, “Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon the earth that I desire besides thee.” Again,

Fourthly, Another thing I remark, is, That this blessed Plant of Renown, he was cut down in his death, and sprung up gloriously in his resurrection; the sword of divine justice hewed down this Plant upon Mount Calvary, but within three days he sprung up again more glorious and more beautiful and amiable than ever; and “He was declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the Spirit of holiness, by his resurrection from the dead.”

Lastly, I would have you to remark, that all the little plants in the garden are ingrafted in this Plant of Renown: “I am the Vine, ye are the branches; he that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: For without me ye can do nothing—I am a green fir tree, from me is thy fruit found.” If you be not ingrafted firs, in this Plant, you will never grow; and all the trees that are not planted in him, they are all but weeds. There is a time coming when all the weeds will be plucked up, and therefore take heed that you be ingrafted in him by a faith of God’s operation. So much for the first thing I proposed.

The second thing was to shew, that he is a Renowned Plant. He is renowned in heaven, and he is renowned on earth, and will be so, For his name shall endure for ever, Psal. lxxii. 17. O he is renowned!

For what, say you, is he renowned? I might here enter upon a very large field; I shall only tell you,

1. That he is renowned in his Person. There was never the like of him! The two natures, God and Man, are joined together in one, in him: Did you ever see that? If you have not seen that, you have not seen the Mystery of Godliness: He is the most renowned person in heaven; but he is IMMANUEL, God manifested in the flesh.—Then he is,

2. Renowned for his Pedigree: Who can declare his Generation? Considering him as God, his eternal generation from the Father cannot be told. We can tell you he is the only begotten of the Father, but we cannot tell you the manner of his generation; it is a secret that God has drawn a vail upon, and it is dangerous to venture into a search of it; and they that have attempted it, have commonly been boged into Arian, Arminian, and Sabellian errors. Considering him as man, he is sprung of a race of ancient Kings, a famous catalogue of them you read of in first of Matthew.—And who can declare his generation even as man? For he was born of a Virgin, and conceived by the overshadowing power of the Highest. Then,

3. He is renowned for his name.—“He hath a Name above every name that can be named, whether in this world or that which is to come.”

4. He is renowned for his Wisdom.—For, “All the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are in him.”

5. He is renowned for his Power.—For he is not only the Wisdom of God, but the Power of God. He is “the Man of God’s right hand, even the Son of Man, whom he hath made strong for himself.”

6. He is renowned for his Veracity and Fidelity. For, “Faithfulness is the girdle of his loins.” Have you got a word from him? Depend upon it, it is a sicker word, it does not fail: The word of the Lord endures for ever, when heaven and earth shall pass away.

7. He is renowned for his Righteousness. For, “He hath brought in an everlasting Righteousness, whereby the Law is magnified and made honourable;” and by the imputation of which, the guilty transgressors are acquitted: “He was made sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the Righteousness of God in him:” That is His name, The Lord our Righteousness.

8. He is renowned for his fulness.—For, “All the fulness of the Godhead dwells bodily in him:” He is full of grace and truth; full of all created and uncreated excellencies.

9. He is renowned for his Love.—What but love brought him out of the bosom of the Father to this lower world? What but love made him lay down his life for his people?

10. He is renowned for his Liberality. He has a full hand and a free heart, as we use to say; he gives without money, and he invites all to come and share of his fulness.

11. He is renowned for his Constancy. He is “Jesus Christ, the same to-day, yesterday and for ever.” The best of men, will fail us when we trust them; they will run like splinters into our hands, when we lean upon them: But, sirs, you will find Christ always the same, to-day, yesterday and for ever. And then,

12. He is renowned for his Authority and Dominion. It is great, and extends far and wide, whether in heaven above, or in the earth beneath: And his dominion reaches “from sea to sea, and from the river unto the ends of the earth:” And all the kings of the earth are but his vassals.

Thus, I say, Christ in every respect is renowned.

But here, to keep by the phraseology of the text, He is a renowned Plant: Wherein is he renowned?

First, I say he is renowned for his Antiquity: “I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was,” &c. All the plants in the higher and lower gardens of God, they are but just upstarts in comparison of him: Angels and Arch-angels, and the greatest Seraphims are but of yesterday, in comparison of this Plant. He is renowned for his Antiquity, for he is, “The Ancient of days, and the Everlasting Father,” Isaiah, 9th chapter.

N.B.—Here he was desired to conclude his Discourse, in respect the Work in the Church was over, and that he might give way to another Minister that was to preach the Evening Sermon.

SERMON II.

EZEKIEL, xxxiv. 29.

And I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown.

I had occasion, upon a solemnity of this nature, not long ago, to enter upon these words, but had not time to go far into the import of them. After I had traced the connection of the words a little, I took them up in the few following particulars.

1. We have here a great blessing promised unto the church; and that is none other than Christ, under the notion of a Prince, and A Plant of Renown.

2. We have the Party by whom this promise is made, in the pronoun I,—I JEHOVAH, the Eternal GOD, I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown.

3. We have the way how this Plant of Renown is raised; And I will raise him up. I that am the great Husbandman of the vineyard, I will raise up for them, &c. Then,

4. I noticed the persons to whom the promise is made, I will raise up for them; that is, for his Church, for his people that are brought into a very low condition; as you will see by reading the preceding part of the chapter. The flock of Christ were scattered by the shepherds of Israel; they were torn, they were devoured, and under manifold trials; Well, what will the Lord do for his flock in that condition? He says, I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown, and they shall hunger no more.

The observation is much the same with the words themselves, namely, “that our Lord Jesus Christ is a Plant of Renown of his Father’s upbringing:” I will raise up for them a Plant of Renown. In prosecution of this doctrine, I proposed to observe the order and method following.

First, To premise a few things concerning this blessed Plant.

Secondly, To shew that indeed he is a Plant of Renown. And then,

Thirdly, To speak a little concerning the raising up of this Plant.

Fourthly, For whom he is raised up.

Fifthly, For what good, or for what benefit and advantage he is raised up. And,

Lastly, To apply the whole.

As to the first, I spoke to it, and premised a few things concerning this blessed Plant; therefore I shall not stay to resume what was said on that Head. I likewise entered upon the second, and shewed that Christ is A Plant of Renown in several respects: I mentioned eleven or twelve particulars wherein Christ is renowned, but I shall not resume these neither: I shall only tell you a few things wherein this blessed Plant is renowned.

1. In the first place, this blessed Plant, he is renowned for his antiquity. There are many other plants in God’s garden, as angels, seraphims, cherubims, saints militant and triumphant, they are all but upstarts in comparison of him; for he was set up before ever the earth was. You will see that one name of this Plant of Renown is, The Everlasting Father, or, “The Father of Eternity,” as it may be rendered.

2. As he is renowned for his antiquity, so for his Beauty: he is the most beautiful Plant in all the garden of God; “I am the Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the valleys.—He is the apple-tree among the trees of the wood.” He is renowned I say, for his beauty and his glory; for the glory of a God is in him. Is there any glory in his eternal Father? Why, that glory shines in our IMMANUEL, in the very brightness of it, Heb. i. 3. “He is the brightness of the Father’s glory, and the express image of his person.” Now, sirs, if ever your eyes were opened by the Spirit of God, to take up the glory of this Plant, his glory has just dazzled your very eyes! You that never saw any glory in him, you never saw him to this very day: Pray that the light of the glory of God, in the face of Jesus Christ, may yet shine into your hearts. It would make a heartsome Sacrament, if this Plant were displayed in his glory among us. Sirs, have you come to see him in his glory? O give God no rest till he make a discovery of himself to your souls. Then,

3. He is renowned for his verdure, for his perpetual greenness. Other plants are fading; you and I are fading plants; “All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field:” He is a Tree ever green, he never fades, summer nor winter, and shall be ever a green Plant to the Saints as it were to eternity! When millions of ages, yea, myriads of ages are past in heaven, he will be as fresh and green to the believer, as when he first saw him, or the first moment the saint entered glory: therefore it is, that the songs of the redeemed in glory are always new; and throughout eternity, will be new, because they will constantly see matter of a new song; and the more they see, they will wonder the more at him throughout eternity! Again,

4. This Plant is renowned not only for his verdure, but for his virtue. We read, Rev. xxii. “That the leaves of the Tree of Life were for the healing of the nations.” That Tree of Life is the very same with this Plant of Renown; the leaves of this Plant are for the healing of the nations; and we that are ministers are come this day to scatter the leaves of this Tree of Life, of this Plant of Renown; try if you can get a leaf of it applied and set home upon your souls. Depend upon it, there is virtue in every word of his. Sirs, mingle faith with a word, and you will find that it will have the same efficacy with you as it had with the poor woman with the bloody issue, that was healed with a touch of the hem of his garment, who had spent all her living on doctors. O see if you can find him! I assure you he is here; he is behind the door of every man’s heart: “Behold I stand (says he,) at the door and knock! If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with me.” And O let him in! there is virtue in him for curing you all, though there were ten thousand millions of you more than there are; there is virtue in him for healing every one of you. But then,

5. This blessed Plant is not only renowned for his virtue, but likewise for his fertility. He is not a barren Plant; he would not be renowned if he were barren: He brings forth all manner of fruit every month; yea, I may add, every day, every moment. You read in Rev. xxii. of the Tree of Life that brings forth twelve manner of fruits every month; that is to say, he brings forth all fruit that is necessary for a poor soul: whatever thy soul stands in need of, is to be found in him; see then and gather, see if you can gather some of it. There is the fruit of his incarnation; there is the fruit of his death; there is the fruit of his resurrection; there is the fruit of his ascension; there is the fruit of his intercession, and sitting at the right hand of God; there is the fruit of his prophetic office; there is the fruit of his priestly office; there is the fruit of his kingly office; there is the fruit of his appearing within the vail; there is the fruit of what he did without the vail, and without the camp. O what fruit is here! Here is wisdom for fools; here is justification for the condemned soul; here is sanctification for the polluted soul, and clothing for the naked; riches for the poor, bread for the hungry, drink for the thirsty. All manner of fruit is here, and we are trying, sirs, to shake the Tree of Life among you; and blessed be God, they may be gathered: O sirs! they are dropping among you; O gather, gather, for salvation is in every word that drops from him; for his words are the words of eternal life. But, in the

6. Place, this blessed Plant is renowned for his scent and pleasant savour. O sirs! there is such a blessed savour in this Plant of Renown, as has cast a perfume through all the Paradise above! He has cast a perfume through the church militant, which in Isaiah v. is called God’s vineyard. O sirs! do you find any thing of the scent of this Plant? I can tell you, if ever you have been made to know him, it will be so: “because of the savour of thy good ointment, thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the Virgins love thee.” The believer he finds a scent about him, he draws a savour from him. What is the design of us ministers, but to cast abroad his scent, and it is by this we win souls; and they that cast out and drop the Plant of Renown out of their sermons, no wonder their sermons stink, and they shall stink to eternity, that throw Christ out of their sermons. The great business of ministers is to cast forth the scent of Christ to the people. I shall read you a word to this purpose, in 2 Cor. ii. 14—16. “Now, thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ.” The apostle triumphs in him, and all other honest ministers will triumph in him too; and all Christians that know him, triumph in him. “And maketh manifest the savour of his knowledge by us in every place. For we are unto God a sweet savour in Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that perish. To the one we are the savour of death unto death; and to the other, the savour of life unto life; and who is sufficient for these things?” Who is able to tell the sweet savour that is in him? Again,

7. This blessed plant in my text, is not only renowned for his savour, but likewise for his shadow. Song, i. 3. “I sat down under his shadow with great delight;” the shadow of the Plant of Renown. You are all sitting there or standing, but are you sitting under the Plant of Renown? Jonah’s gourd did him service against the scorching heat of the sun, that was like to take away his life; but alas! that soon failed him, for God sent a worm and smote it that it withered; and the worm of death will soon smite and wither you and me: O get in under the shadow of this Plant of Renown, and ye are secured against death and vindictive wrath for ever. Get in under his shadow; the shadow of his intercession,—the shadow of his power,—the shadow of his providence,—the shadow of his faithfulness: O sit under his shadow, and you will find shelter there against all deadly; whatever blasts come, you will find safety there. Would you be shadowed from the king of terrors? Death is a terror to many, O if you be shadowed against the awful terrors of death and God’s vengeance, get in under this shadow, and you are safe.

8. This Plant is renowned for his stature. He is a high Plant, he is a tall Plant: you see the heavens above you, but they are but creeping things in comparison of him; for this glorious Plant is, The high and lofty One that inhabits eternity. You can never see his height; your eye will look high, and your thought will reach higher, but neither your eye nor thought will reach unto him; he is taller than all the cedars in the Lebanon of God: “Eye hath not seen, nor hath ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man,” to think of the height and glory of this Plant of Renown! And,

Lastly, This Plant is renowned not only for his stature, but for his extent also: he is a broad Plant, he was planted in the first promise in Paradise; he spread through the old testament church; he came the length of filling the land of Judea; and, at length, this Plant has spread itself among us: And O that I could open the leaves of this Plant to take you in; he is a broad Plant, he will serve you all. We read of the Tree of Life being on every side of the river: there is a great river betwixt us and heaven, and that is death; and we are all running into this river of death. As one well observes on the place, this Tree is in the middle of the river; he is on this side of time, and he is on that side of time. Now, this Plant is on both sides of the river; though you were going to the wastes of America, you will find him there as well as here, if you have but the art of improving him. And this Plant will spread himself through all kingdoms, “The earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, just as the waters cover the sea.” He will not only fill the earth, but the whole heavens throughout eternity! O but he is a broad Plant, that will extend himself both to heaven and earth! And this shall serve for the second thing proposed, namely, To show that this Plant is indeed a most Renowned Plant.

The third thing I proposed in the prosecution of this doctrine, was, concerning the raising or upbringing of this Plant. You see it is no other than the Great GOD, that raised up this Plant. I find the Great JEHOVAH glorying in his skill and wisdom in the raising up of this Plant for the use of the church. In Psalm lxxxix. 19. says the Lord, “I have laid help upon one that is mighty; I have exalted one chosen out of the people; I have raised up David my servant; with my holy oil have I anointed him.” Here he glories in it that he had raised up this glorious Plant of Renown.

I will tell you a few things with reference to the raising up of this blessed Plant.

1. He was raised up in the counsel of God’s peace from eternity. The Trinity sat in council anent the upbringing of him; “The counsel of peace was between them both,” Zech. vi. 13. The Father and the Son agreed upon it, that in the fulness of time the Son should come into the world.

2. He was raised up in the first promise to Adam and Eve. Till this Plant was discovered to them, they were like to run distracted: And indeed, sirs, if Christless sinners saw where they were, and the wrath of God that is hanging over their heads, they would be ready to run distracted, till a revelation of Christ was made to them. All the promises, all the prophecies, all the types, and all the doctrines of the old testament, they were the gradual springings of this Plant: but it was under ground until,

3. His actual manifestation in the flesh, when, in the fulness of time he appeared: “In the fulness of time, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, &c.”

4. This Plant was raised up even in his death and resurrection, by which he was declared to be the Son of God with power, by the spirit of holiness. And,

Lastly, This Plant of Renown will be raised up in the songs of the redeemed through endless eternity. Thus you see, Christ is a Plant of Renown, and what way he is raised up.

The next thing I proposed was, for whom is it that this Plant is raised up? O! may some poor thing say, Was he ever raised up for me? I tell you, sirs, he was never raised up for the fallen angels; “For he took not on him the nature of angels, but he took on him the seed of Abraham.” Our nature was highly honoured at first, but it soon sunk below the beast that perisheth; but the second Adam took our nature upon him, and raised it to a higher dignity than the very angels; for to which of the angels did this honour appertain, to be united to the eternal Son of God? So that, I say, this Plant of Renown is raised up for mankind-sinners, not for angel-kind sinners; and every mankind-sinner that hears tell of him, they should lay claim to him, as in Isaiah, ix. 6, “To us a Son is given, to us this Child is born; and the government shall be upon his shoulder: And his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” To us he is given, unto us he is born.

I thought to have gone through what I designed on this subject, but time will not allow. The Lord bless his word.

A DYING CHRISTIAN’S PRAYER.

“Receive my spirit,” was the prayer of Stephen to Jesus Christ, to receive his departing soul; and, brethren, I think you will feel in a dying hour, that your departing soul needs a Divine Saviour. You have one in Jesus Christ. You may call upon him then, even as now. His ear will not be heavy, though yours may, when death is sealing up your faculties. His eye will not have lost its power of gazing affectionately on you, when yours is becoming dim and closed. His hand will not be shortened, in the hour when yours will have become tremulous and feeble. But lift up the hand, the heart, the eye, the soul, in prayer to him then, and you will find him a very near and present help in that your time of trouble.

Brethren, a Christian should die praying. Other men die in different ways, according to their character and temper. Julius Cesar died adjusting his robes, that he might fall gracefully. Voltaire, with mingled imprecations and supplications; Paine, with shrieks of agonizing remorse. Multitudes die with sullenness, some with blasphemies faltering on their tongue. But, brethren, the humble Christian would die praying. Well says the poet:

“Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath,

The Christian’s native air;

His watch-word at the gates of death,

He enters heaven with prayer!”

But, observe for what Stephen prayed. “Lord Jesus receive my spirit!” This is the prayer of faith, commending the immortal spirit to the covenant care of Jesus. The spirit does not die with the body. None but God, who gave, can take away the soul’s existence, and he has declared that he never will. Would that bad men would think on that! You cannot get rid of your soul’s existence: you cannot cease to be: you may wish it; though the wish is monstrous and unnatural. But there is no annihilation for any soul of man. Oh, come to our Saviour! give him your guilty soul, to be justified through his atonement, washed in his blood, regenerated by his Spirit. Make to him now that surrender of your soul, for which he calls. Renew this happy self-dedication every day, very especially every Sabbath, and most solemnly, from time to time at the Lord’s Supper. And then, when you come to die, it will only be, to do once more, what you have so often done in former days,—again to commend your soul very humbly, believingly, and affectionately, under the faithful care of Jesus Christ.

THE HOUSE OF GOD.

The church was pleasantly situated on a rising bank, at the foot of a considerable hill. It was surrounded by trees, and had a rural retired appearance. In every direction the roads that led to this house of God, possessed distinct but interesting features. One of them ascended between several rural cottages from the sea-shore, which adjoined the lower part of the village-street. Another winded round the curved sides of the adjacent hill, and was adorned, both above and below, with numerous sheep feeding on the herbage of the down. A third road led to the church by a gently rising approach, between high banks, covered with young trees, bushes, ivy, hedge-plants, and wild flowers.—From a point of land, which commanded a view of all these several avenues, I used sometimes, for a while, to watch my congregation gradually assembling together at the hour of Sabbath worship. They were in some directions visible for a considerable distance. Gratifying associations of thought would form in my mind, as I contemplated their approach and successive arrival within the precincts of the house of prayer.—One day as I was thus occupied, during a short interval previous to the hour of divine service, I reflected on the joy, which David experienced at the time he exclaimed, “I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of the Lord. Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem. Jerusalem is built as a city that is compact together; whither the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks unto the name of the Lord.” I was led to reflect upon the various blessings, connected with the establishment of public worship. “How many immortal souls are now gathering together to perform the all-important work of prayer and praise—to hear the word of God—to feed upon the bread of life! They are leaving their respective dwellings, and will soon be united together in the house of prayer.” How beautifully does this represent the effect produced by the voice of the “Good Shepherd,” calling his sheep from every part of the wilderness into his fold! As those fields, hills, and lanes, are now covered with men, women, and children, in various directions, drawing nearer to each other, and to the object of their journey’s end; even so, “many shall come from the east, and from the west, and from the north, and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of God.” Who can rightly appreciate the value of such hours as these?—hours spent in learning the way of holy pleasantness, and the paths of heavenly peace—hours devoted to the service of God, and of souls; in warning the sinner to flee from wrath to come; in teaching the ignorant how to live and die; in preaching the gospel to the poor; in healing the broken-hearted; in declaring “deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind.” “Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound; they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance. In thy name shall they rejoice all the day, and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted.” This train of reflection, at intervals, occurred powerfully to my feelings, as I viewed that very congregation assembled together in the house of God, whose steps, in their approach to it, I had watched with prayerful emotions.—“Here the rich and poor met together,” in mutual acknowledgement that “the Lord is the maker of them all,” and that all are alike dependent creatures, looking up to one common Father to supply their wants, both temporal and spiritual.—Again, likewise, shall they meet together in the grave, that undistinguishing receptacle of the opulent and the needy.—And once more, at the judgment-seat of Christ, shall the rich and poor meet together, that “every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad.” How closely connected in the history of man, art these three periods of a general meeting together. The house of prayer—the house appointed for all living—and the house not made with hands eternal in the heavens.—May we never separate these ideas from each other, but retain them in a sacred and profitable union! So shall our worshipping assemblies on earth be representative of the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven.

FINIS.

A CHOICE DROP OF HONEY

FROM

THE ROCK CHRIST;

OR,

A SHORT WORD OF ADVICE

TO

SAINTS AND SINNERS.

BY THOMAS WILCOCKS.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

CHRISTIAN READER,

I find, in this latter day, the love of the Lord shining in some measure with its pleasant beams into my heart, warming my affections, inflaming my soul not only to give a spiritual echo in soul duty to so great a lover as my Saviour is, whose transcendent love passeth knowledge, Eph. iii. 19. but also the loving and wishing well to all Sion’s heaven-born children; for I find, in this day, many poor souls tossed to and fro, ready to be carried away with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive, Eph. iv. 14: and that there are many foundations to build upon that are false, upon which much labour is spent in vain; that men are not speaking the truth in love; neither are they growing up unto him in all things, which is the head Christ, Eph. iv. 15. There cannot be a growing in Christ, without a union with him. Thou wilt find, therefore, gentle reader, this ensuing little treatise, if the Lord be pleased to bless the reading of it unto thee, as a still voice behind thee saying, “This is the way, walk in it, that thou turn not to the right hand or the left.”—The way into that pleasant path of soul justification before God is in and through the righteousness of Jesus Christ, for all our self-righteousness is as filthy rags: surely shall one say, “In the Lord shall all the seed of Israel be justified, and shall glory,” Isai. xlv. 25. It is only the dying of that Just One, for us unjust ones, that must bring us to God. He that knew no sin was made sin for us; that we who were nothing but sin, might be made the righteousness of God in him, 2 Cor. v. 21.

Christian Reader, let all that is of old Adam in thee fall down at the foot of Christ. He only must have the pre-eminence;—all the vessels of this new spiritual covenant temple, from the cups to the flagons, must be all hung upon Christ; he is to build the temple of the Lord, and is to bear the glory; he, by his Father’s appointment, is the foundation-stone, the corner-stone, and the top-stone; he is the Father’s fulness of grace and glory: whatever thy wants be, thou mayest come to him; there is balsam enough in him fit for a cure.

Reader, the good Lord help thee to experience the ensuing word of advice, that it may be made by God unto thee like honey, sweet to thy soul, and health to thy bones, and thy soul shall rejoice within thee. Thy brother in the faith and fellowship of the gospel,

THOMAS WILCOCKS.

A CHOICE DROP OF HONEY

FROM THE

ROCK CHRIST.

A word of advice to my own heart and thine:—Thou art a professor, and partakest of all ordinances: Thou dost well, they are glorious privileges. But if thou hast not the blood of Christ at the root of thy profession, it will wither, and prove but painted pageantry to go to hell in.

If thou retain guilt and self-righteousness under it, those vipers will eat out all the vitals of it at length.—Try and examine with the greatest strictness every day, what foundation thy profession and thy hope of glory is built upon, whether it was laid by the hand of Christ; if not, it will never be able to endure the storm that will come against it. Satan will throw it all down, and great will be the fall thereof, Matt. vii. 27.

Glorious professor! thou shalt be winnowed, every vein of thy profession shall be tried to purpose! It is terrible to have it all come tumbling down, and to find nothing but it to rest upon.

Soaring professor! see to thy waxen wings betimes, which will melt with the heat of temptations. What a misery it is, to trade much, and break at length, and have no stock, no foundation laid for eternity in thy soul!

Gilded professor! look if there be not a worm at the root, that will spoil all thy fine gourd, and make it die about thee in a day of scorching. Look over thy soul daily, and ask, “Where is the blood of Christ to be seen upon my soul? What righteousness is it that I stand upon to be saved? Have I got off my self-righteousness?”—Many eminent professors have come at length to cry out in the sight of the ruin of all their duties, Undone, undone, to all eternity!

Consider, the greatest sins may be hid under the greatest duties, and the greatest terrors. See the wound that sin hath made in thy soul be perfectly cured by the blood of Christ; not skinned over with duties, humblings, enlargements, &c. Apply what thou wilt besides the blood of Christ, it will poison the sore. Thou wilt find that sin was never mortified truly; that thou hast not seen Christ bleeding for thee upon the cross; nothing can kill it, but the beholding of Christ’s righteousness.

Nature can afford no balsam fit for soul cure. Healing from duty and not from Christ, is the most desperate disease. Poor ragged nature, with all its highest improvements, can never spin a garment fine enough, without spot, to cover the soul’s nakedness. Nothing can fit the soul for that use, but Christ’s perfect righteousness.

Whatsoever is of nature’s spinning must be all unravelled, before the righteousness of Christ can be put on; whatsoever is nature’s putting on, Satan will come and plunder it every rag away, and leave the soul naked and open to the wrath of God. All that nature can do will never make up the least drachm of grace, that can mortify sin, or look Christ in the face even for one day.

Thou art a professor, goest on hearing, praying, and receiving, yet miserable thou mayest be. Look about thee; did thou ever yet see Christ to this day in distinction from all other excellencies and righteousness in the world, and all of them falling before the majesty of his love and grace? Is. ii. 17.

If thou hast seen Christ truly, thou hast seen pure grace, pure righteousness in him, every way infinite, far exceeding all sin and misery. If thou hast seen Christ, thou canst trample upon all the righteousness of men and angels, so as to bring thee into acceptance with God. If thou hast seen Christ, thou wouldst not do a duty without him for ten thousand worlds, 1 Cor. ii. 2. If ever thou sawest Christ, thou sawest him a Rock, higher than self-righteousness, Satan, and sin, Ps. lxi. 2; and this Rock doth follow thee, 1 Cor. x. 4; and there will be continual dropping of honey and grace out of that Rock to satisfy thee, Ps. lxxxi. 16. Examine if ever thou hast beheld Christ as the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth, John, i. 14, 16, 17. Be sure thou art come to Christ, that thou standest on the Rock of Ages, hast answered to his call to thy soul, hast closed with him for justification.

Men talk bravely of believing, but whilst whole and sound few know it. Christ is the mystery of the Scripture: Grace the mystery of Christ. Believing is the most wonderful thing in the world. Put any thing of thine own to it, and thou spoilest it; Christ will not so much as look at it for believing. When thou believest and comest to Christ, thou must leave behind thee thine own righteousness, and bring nothing but thy sin. (O that is hard!) Leave behind thy holiness, sanctification, duties, humblings, &c., and bring nothing but thy wants and miseries, else Christ is not fit for thee, nor thou for Christ. Christ will be a whole Redeemer and Mediator, and thou must be an undone sinner, or Christ and thou will never agree. It is the hardest thing to take Christ alone for righteousness: that is, to acknowledge him Christ. Join any thing to him of thine own, and thou dost un-Christ him.

Whatever comes in when thou goest to God for acceptance besides Christ, call it anti-Christ bid it begone; make only Christ’s righteousness triumphant; all besides that is Babylon, which must fall if Christ stand; and thou shalt rejoice in the day of the fall thereof, Is. xiv. 10, 11, 12.——Christ alone did tread the wine-press, and there was none with him, Is. lxiii. 3. If thou join any thing to Christ, Christ will trample upon it in fury and anger, and stain his raiment with the blood thereof.——Thou thinkest it easy to believe; was ever thy faith tried with an hour of temptation, or with a thorough sight of sin? Was it ever put to wrestle with Satan, and the wrath of God lying upon the conscience? When thou wast in the mouth of hell and the grave, then God shewed thee Christ, a ransom, a righteousness, &c. Then if thou couldst say, Oh, I see grace enough in Christ, thou mayest say that which is the biggest word in the world, Thou believest. Untried faith is uncertain faith.

To believing, there must go a clear conviction of sin, and the merits of the blood of Christ, and of Christ’s willingness to save upon this consideration merely, that thou art a sinner; things all harder than to make a world. All the powers in nature cannot get up so high in a storm of sin and guilt, as really to believe there is any grace, any willingness, in Christ to save. When Satan charged sin upon the conscience, then for the soul to bring it to Christ, that is gospel-like. That is to make him Christ, he serves for that use. To accept Christ’s righteousness alone, his blood alone, for salvation, that is the sum of the gospel. When the soul, in all duties and distresses, can say, Nothing but Christ, Christ alone for righteousness, justification, sanctification, redemption, 1 Cor. i. 30; not humblings, nor duties, nor graces, &c., that soul hath got above the reach of the billows.

All temptations, Satan’s advantages, our complainings, are laid in self-righteousness, and self-excellency: God pursueth these, by setting Satan upon thee, as Laban did Jacob for his images; these must be torn from thee, he is unwilling as thou wilt; these hinder Christ from coming in; and till Christ come in, guilt will not come out; and where guilt is, there is hardness of heart; and therefore much guilt argues little if any thing of Christ.

When guilt is raised up, take heed of getting it allayed any way but by Christ’s blood, that will tend to hardening. Make Christ thy peace, Eph. i. 14, not thy duties, thy tears, &c. Thou mayest offend Christ by duties as well as sins. Look at Christ, and do as much as thou wilt. Rest with all thy weight upon Christ’s righteousness; take heed of having one foot on thine own righteousness and another on Christ’s. Till he come and sit on high, upon a throne of grace in the conscience, there is nothing but guilt, terror, secret suspicions, the soul hanging betwixt hope and fear, which is an un-gospel-like state.

He that fears to see sin’s utmost vileness, the utmost hell of his own heart, suspects the merits of Christ. Be thou never such a great sinner, 1 John, ii. 1; try Christ, to make him thy advocate, and thou shalt find him Jesus Christ the righteous. In all doubtings, fears, storms of conscience, look at Christ continually. Do not argue it with Satan, he desires no better. Bid him go to Christ, and he will answer him. It is his office to be our advocate, 1 John, ii. 1. His office is to answer the law as our surety, Heb. vii. 22; his office to answer justice, as our Mediator, Gal. iii. 20; 1 Tim. ii. 5. And he is sworn to that office, Heb. vii. 20, 21. Put Christ upon it. If thou wilt do any thing thyself to satisfaction for sin, thou renouncest Christ the righteous, who was made sin for thee, 2 Cor. v. 21.

Satan may alledge, and corrupt scripture, but he cannot answer scripture. It is Christ’s word of mighty authority. Christ foiled Satan with it, Matt. iv. 10. In all the scripture there is not an ill word against a poor sinner stripped of self-righteousness; nay, it plainly points out this man to be the subject of the grace of the gospel, and none else. Believe but in Christ’s willingness, and that will make thee willing. If thou findest thou canst not believe, put him upon it; he works to will and to believe, put him upon it; he works to will and to do of his own pleasure, Phil. ii. 13. Mourn for thy unbelief, which is a setting up of guilt in the conscience above Christ, an undervaluing of the merits of Christ, accounting his blood an unholy, a common, and unsatisfying thing.

Thou complainest much of thyself.—Doth thy sin make thee look more at Christ, less at thyself! That is right, else complaining is but hypocrisy. To be looking at duties, graces, enlargements, when thou shouldst be looking at Christ, that is pitiful. Looking at them will make you humble. By grace ye are saved, Eph. ii. 5, 8. In all thy temptations be not discouraged, James, i. 2. Those surges may be not to drown thee, but to cast thee on the Rock Christ.

Thou mayest be brought low, even to the brink of hell, yet there thou mayest cry, there thou mayest look towards the holy temple, Jonah, ii. 14. Into that temple none might enter but purified ones, and with an offering too, Acts, xxi. 26. But now Christ is our temple, sacrifice, altar, and high-priest to whom none must come but sinners, and that without any offering but his own blood once offered. Heb. vii. 27.

Remember all the patterns of grace that are in heaven. Thou thinkest, “Oh what a monument of grace shall I be!” There are many thousands as rich monuments as thou canst be. The greatest sinner did never surpass the grace of Christ. Do not despair: hope still. When the clouds are blackest, even then look towards Christ, the standing pillar of the Father’s love and grace, set up in heaven, for all sinners to gaze upon continually. Whatsoever Satan or conscience say, do not conclude against thyself. Christ shall have the last word; he is judge of quick and dead, and must pronounce the fatal sentence. His blood speaks reconciliation, Col. i. 20; cleansing, 1 John, i. 7; purchase, Acts xx. 28; redemption, 1 Pet. i. 9; purging, Heb. v. 13, 14; remission, verse 22; liberty, Heb. x. 19; justification, Rom. v. 9; nearness to God, Eph. ii. 13. Not a drop of this blood shall be lost. Stand and hearken what God will say, for he will speak peace to his people, that they return no more to folly, Psal. lxxxv. 8. He speaks grace, mercy, and peace, 2 Tim. i. 2. That is the language of the Father and of Christ. Wait for Christ’s appearing, as the morning star, Rev. xxii. 19. He shall come as certain as the morning, as refreshing as the rain, Hos. vi. 3.

The sun may as well be hindered from rising, as Christ the sun of righteousness, Mal. iv. 2. Look not a moment off Christ. Look not upon sin, but look upon Christ first: when thou mournest for sin, if thou dost not see Christ, then away with it, Zech. ii. 20. In every duty look at Christ; before duty, to pardon; in duty, to assist; after duty, to accept. Without this it is but carnal careless duty. Do not legalise the gospel, as if part did remain to thee to do and suffer, and Christ were but an half mediator; and thou must bear part of thine own sin, and make part satisfaction. Let sin break thy heart, but not thy hope in the gospel.

Look more at justification than sanctification. In the highest commands consider Christ, not as an exactor, to inquire, but a debtor and undertaker, to work. If thou hast looked at workings, duties, qualifications, &c., more than at the merits of Christ, it will cost thee dear; no wonder thou goest complaining; graces may be evidences, the merits of Christ alone, without them, must be the foundation of thy hope to rest upon. Christ only can be the hope of glory, Col. i. 27.

When we come to God, we must bring nothing but Christ with us. Any ingredients, or any previous qualifications of our own, will poison and corrupt faith. He that builds upon duties, graces, &c., knows not the merits of Christ; this makes believing so hard, so far from nature. If thou believest, thou must every day renounce as dung and dross, (Phil. iii. 7, 9,) thy privileges, thy qualifications, thy baptism, thy sanctification, thy duties, thy graces, thy tears, thy meltings, thy humblings, and nothing but Christ must be held up. Every day thy workings, thy self-sufficiency must be destroyed. Thou must take all out of God’s hand. Christ is the gift of God, John, iv. 10. Faith is the gift of God, Eph. ii. 1. Pardon a free gift, Rom. v. 16. Ah, how nature storms, frets, rages at this, that all is of gift, and it can purchase nothing with its actings, and tears, and duties; that all workings are excluded, and of no value in heaven!

If nature had been to contrive the way of salvation, it would rather have put it into the hands of saints or angels to sell it, than the hands of Christ, who gives freely, whom therefore it suspects; nature would have set up a way to purchase by doing; therefore it abominates the merits of Christ, as the most destructive thing to it. Nature would do any thing to be saved, rather than go to Christ, or close with Christ, and owe all to him. Christ will have nothing; but the soul will force somewhat of his own upon Christ. Herein is that great controversy.—Consider—didst thou ever yet see the merits of Christ, and the infinite satisfaction made by his death? Didst thou see this when the burden of sin and the wrath of God lay heavy on thy conscience? That is grace. The greatness of Christ’s merit is not known but to a poor soul in deep distress! Slight convictions will but have slight low prizings of Christ’s blood and merits.

Despairing sinner! Thou lookest on thy right hand, and on thy left, saying, “Who will shew us any good?” Thou art looking over all thy duties and professions to patch a righteousness to save thee. Look at Christ now; look to him and be saved all the ends of the earth, Is. xlv. 22. There is none else. He is a Saviour, and there is none besides him, xliii. 11. Look any where else, and thou art undone. God will look at nothing but Christ, and thou must look at nothing else. Christ is lifted up on high, as the brazen serpent in the wilderness, that sinners at the end of the earth, at the greatest distance, may see him, and look towards him, John, iii. 14, 15. The least sight of him will be saving, the least touch healing to thee; and God intends thou shouldst look on him, for he hath set him upon a high throne of glory, in the open view of all poor sinners. Thou hast infinite reason to look on him: no reason at all to look off him; for he is meek and lowly of heart, Matt. xi. 29. He will do that himself which he requires of his creatures; viz. bear with infirmities, Rom. xv. 1. Not pleasing himself, nor standing upon points of law, ver. 2; he will restore with the spirit of meekness, Gal. vi.; and bear thy burdens, ver. 2. He will forgive not only till seven times, but seventy times seven, Matt. xviii. 21, 22. I put the faith of the apostles to it to believe this, Luke, xvii. 4, 5. Because we are hard to forgive, we think Christ is hard.

We see sin great, we think Christ doth so, and measure infinite love with our line, infinite merits with our sins, which is the great pride and blasphemy, Ps. ciii. 11, 12; Is. x. 15. Hear what he saith: I have found a ransom, Job xxxiii. 24; in him I am well pleased, Matt. iii. 18. God will have nothing else; nothing else will do thee good, or satisfy conscience, but Christ who satisfied the Father. God doth all upon the account of Christ. Thy deserts are hell, wrath, rejection. Christ’s deserts are life, pardon, and acceptance. He will not only shew thee one, but he will give thee the other. It is Christ’s own glory and happiness to pardon. Consider, whilst Christ was upon the earth, he was more among publicans and sinners, than among scribes and pharisees, his professed adversaries, for they were righteous ones: it is not as thou imaginest, that his state in glory makes him neglected, scornful to poor sinners; No. He hath the same heart now in heaven; he is good, and changeth not; he is the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world, John, i. 20. He went through all thy temptations, dejections, sorrows, desertions, rejections, Matt. iv. 3 to 12 and 26; Mark, xv. 24; Luke, xxii. 44; Matt. xxiv. 38. And he hath drawn the bitterness of the cup, and left thee the sweet: the condemnation is out; Christ drank up all the Father’s wrath at one draught, and nothing but salvation is left for thee. Thou sayest thou canst not believe, thou canst not repent. Fitter for Christ if thou hast nothing but sin and misery. Go to Christ with all thy impenitence and unbelief, to get faith and repentance from him—that is glorious: Say unto him, Lord, I have brought no righteousness of grace to be accepted in or justified by; I am come for thine. We would be bringing to Christ, which must not be; grace will not stand with works, Tit. iii. 5; Rom. xi. 6. Self-righteousness and self-sufficiency are the darlings of nature, which she preserves as her life; that makes Christ obnoxious to nature; nature cannot desire him; he is just directly opposite to all nature’s glorious interests. Let nature make a gospel, and it would make it contrary to Christ. It would be to the just, the innocent, the holy, &c. Christ made the gospel for thee, that is, for needy sinners, the ungodly, the unrighteous, the accursed. Nature cannot endure to think the gospel is only for sinners; it will rather choose to despair than go to Christ upon such terrible terms. When nature is opposed to guilt or wrath, it will go to its own haunts of self-righteousness, self-goodness, &c. An infinite power must cast down those strong holds. None but the self-justiciary stands excluded out of the gospel. Christ will look at the most abominable sinner before him, because to such a one Christ cannot be made justification—he is no sinner. To say in compliment, I am a sinner, is easy; but to pray with the publican indeed, Lord be merciful to me a sinner, is the hardest prayer in the world. It is easy to profess Christ with the mouth, but to confess him with the heart, as Peter, (to be the Christ, the Son of the living God, the alone Mediator,) that is above flesh and blood. Many call Christ Saviour; few know him to be so. To see grace and salvation in Christ, is the greatest sight in the world; none can do that, but at the same time they shall see that glory and salvation to be theirs. I may be ashamed to think, in the midst of so much profession, that I have little of the blood of Christ, which is the main thing of the gospel. A Christless formal profession will be the blackest sight next to hell. Thou mayest have many good things, and yet one thing may be wanting that may make thee go away sorrowful from Christ. Thou hast never sold all thou hast, never parted with all thine own righteousness, &c. Thou mayest be high in duty, and yet a perfect enemy and adversary to Christ, in every prayer, in every ordinance.

Labour after sanctification to thy utmost, but make not a Christ of it to save thee; if so, it must come down one way or other.

Christ’s infinite satisfaction, not thy sanctification, must be thy justification before God. When the Lord shall appear terrible out of his holy place, fire shall consume that as hay and stubble. This will be found true religion, to rest all upon the everlasting mountains of God’s love and grace in Christ; to live continually in the sight of Christ’s infinite righteousness and merits, (they are sanctifying; without them the heart is carnal,) and in those sights to see the full vileness of sin, and to see all pardoned; in those sights to pray, hear, &c., seeing thy polluted self, and all thy weak performances accepted continually; in those sights to trample upon all thy self-glories, righteousness, and privileges, as abominable, and be found continually in the righteousness of Christ only; rejoicing in the ruins of thy own righteousness, the spoiling of all thy own excellencies, that Christ’s alone, as Mediator, may be exalted on his throne: mourning over all thy duties (how glorious soever) which thou hast not performed in the sight and sense of Christ’s love. Without the blood of Christ on the conscience, all this is dead service, Heb. ix. 14.

That opinion of free will, so cried up, will be easily confuted, as it is by scripture, in the heart that hath had any spiritual dealings with Jesus Christ, as to the application to its merit, and subjection to his righteousness. Christ is every way too magnificent a person for a poor nature to close withal or to apprehend. Christ is so infinitely holy, nature durst never look at him; so infinitely good, nature can never believe him to be such, when it lies under a full sight of sin. Christ is too high and glorious for nature so much as to touch. There must be a divine nature first put in the soul, to make it lie on him, he lies so infinitely beyond the sight or reach of nature.

That Christ, which natural free will can apprehend, is but a natural Christ of a man’s own making, not the Father’s Christ, nor Jesus the Son of the living God, to whom none can come without the father’s drawing, John, vi. 44. 46. Finally, search the scriptures daily, as mines of gold, wherein the heart of Christ is laid. Watch against constitutional sins, see them in their vileness, and they shall never break out into act. Keep always an humble, empty, broken frame of heart, sensible of any spiritual miscarriage, observant of all inward workings, fit for the highest communications. Keep not guilt in the conscience, but apply the blood of Christ immediately. God chargeth sin and guilt upon thee, to make thee look to Christ.

Judge not Christ’s love by providences, but by promises. Bless God for shaking off false foundations, and for any way whereby he keeps the soul awakened and looking after Christ. Better sicknesses and temptations than security and slightness.

A slighting spirit will turn a profane spirit, and will sin and pray too. Slighting is the bane of profession; if it be not rooted out of the heart, by constant and serious dealings with, and beholdings of Christ in duties, it will grow more strong and more deadly by being under church ordinances. Measure not thy graces by other attainments, but by Scripture trials. Be serious and exact in duty, having the weight of it upon the heart; be as much afraid of taking comfort from duties as from sins. Comfort from any hand but Christ’s is deadly. Be much in prayer, or you will never keep up much communion with God. As you are in closet prayer, so you will be in all other ordinances.

Reckon not duties by high expression, but by low frames, and the beholdings of Christ. Tremble at duties and gifts. It was a saying of a great saint, he was more afraid of his duties than his sins; the one often made him proud, the other always made him humble. Treasure up manifestations of Christ’s love, they make the heart low for Christ, too high for sin. Slight not the lowest, meanest evidences of grace; God may put thee to make use of the lowest as thou thinkest, even that, 1 John, iii. 14, may be worth a thousand worlds to thee.

Be true to truth, but not turbulent and scornful. Restore such as are fallen; help them up again with all the bowels of Christ. Set the broken disjointed bones with the grace of the gospel. High professor, despise not weak saints. Thou mayest come to wish to be in the condition of the meanest of them. Be faithful to others’ infirmities, but sensible of thy own. Visit sick beds and deserted souls much, they are excellent schools in experience. Abide in your calling. Be dutiful to all relations as to the Lord. Be content with little of the world; little will serve. Think every little of the earth much, because unworthy of the least. Think much of heaven, not little, because Christ is so rich and free. Think every one better than thyself, and ever carry self-loathing about thee, as one fit to be trampled upon by all saints. See the vanity of the world, and the consumption there is upon all things, and love nothing but Christ. Mourn to see so little of Christ in the world, so few needing him: trifles please them better. To a secure soul Christ is but a table, the scripture but a story. Mourn to think how many there are under baptism and church order, that are not under grace, looking much after outward duties, little after Christ, little versed in grace. Prepare for the cross; welcome it, bear it triumphantly like Christ’s cross; whether scoffs, mockings, jeers, contempt, imprisonment, &c. But see it be Christ’s cross, not thine own.

Sin will hinder from glorying in the cross of Christ. Omitting little truths against light may breed guilt in the conscience, as well as committing the greatest sins against light. If thou hast been taken out of the belly of hell into Christ’s bosom, and made to sit among princes in the household of God, oh how shouldst thou live as a pattern of mercy? Redeemed, restored soul, what infinite sums dost thou not owe to Christ! With what singular frames must thou walk, and do every duty! On sabbaths, what praising days, singing hallelujahs, should they be to thee! Church fellowship: what a heaven, a being with Christ, and angels, and saints in communion; what a bathing of the soul in eternal love; what a burial with Christ, and dying to all things beside him! Every time thou thinkest of Christ, be astonished, and wonder; and when thou seest sin, look at Christ’s grace which did pardon it; and when thou art proud, look at Christ’s grace, that shall humble and strike thee down in the dust.

Remember Christ’s time of love, when thou wast naked, Ezekiel, xvi. 8, 9, and then he chose thee. Canst thou ever have a proud thought?—Remember whose arms supported thee from sinking, and delivered thee from the lowest hell, Ps. lxxxvi. 13: and shout in the ears of angels and men, Ps. cxlviii. and for ever sing, “Praise, praise, grace, grace.” Daily repent and pray; and walk in the spirit of grace as one that hath the anointing of grace upon thee. Remember thy sins, Christ’s pardoning; thy deserts, Christ’s merits; thy weakness, Christ’s strength; thy pride, Christ’s humility; thy many infirmities, Christ’s restorings; thy guilt, Christ’s new applications of his blood; thy failings, Christ’s raisings up; thy wants, Christ’s fulness; thy temptations, Christ’s tenderness; thy vileness, Christ’s righteousness.

Blessed soul! whom Christ shall find not trusting in his own righteousness, Phil. iii. 9, but having his robes washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb, Rev. vii. 14. Woeful, miserable professor, that hath not the gospel within! Rest not in church trials; thou mayest pass them, and be cast away in Christ’s day of trial. Thou mayest come to baptism, and never come to Jesus and the blood of sprinkling, Heb. xii. 24. Whatever working or attainments, short of Christ s blood, merits, righteousness, (the main object of the gospel) fall short of the truth, and leave the soul in a condition of doubtings and questionings; and doubtings, if not looked into betimes, will turn to a lightness of spirit, one of the most dangerous of frames.

Trifle not with ordinances. Be much in meditation and prayer. Wait diligently upon all hearing opportunities. We have need of doctrine, reproof, exhortations, consolation, as tender herbs and the grass hath of the rain, the dew, the small rain, and the showers, Deut. xxxii. 2. Do all thou doest as soul-work unto Christ, Zech. vi. 5, 6; as immediately dealing with Christ Jesus; as if he were looking on thee, and thou on him, and get all thy strength from him.

Observe what holy motions you find in your soul to duties; prize the least good thought thou hast of Christ, the least good word thou speakest of him sincerely from thy heart. Rich mercy! Oh! bless God for it! Observe if every day you have the Day-spring from on high, with his morning dews of mourning for sin, constantly visiting thee, Luke, i. 78. Have you the bright Morning-star, with fresh influences of grace and peace, constantly arising, Rev. xxii. 16, and Christ sweetly greeting the soul in all duties? What duty makes not more spiritual, will make more carnal; what doth not quicken and humble, will deaden and harden.

Judas may have the outward privilege of baptism, the supper, church-fellowship, &c., but John leaned on Christ’s bosom, John, iii. 23; that is the gospel-ordinance posture, in which we should pray and hear, and perform all duties. Nothing but lying in that bosom will dissolve hardness of heart, and make thee to mourn heartily for sin and cure lightness and indifference of spirit, that gangrene to profession; that will humble indeed, and make the soul cordial to Christ, and sin vile to the soul; yea, transform the ugliest place of hell into the glory of Christ. Never think thou art right as thou shouldst be, a Christian of any attainment, until thou come to this, always to see and feel thyself lying in the bosom of Christ, who is in the bosom of his Father, John, i. 18. Come and pray the Father for views of Christ, and you will be sure to speed. You can come with no request that pleaseth him better. He gave him out of his own bosom for that very end, to be held up before the eyes of sinners, as the everlasting monument of his unspeakable love.

Looking at the natural sun weakens the eye. The more you look at Christ, the Sun of righteousness, the stronger and clearer will the eye of faith be. Look but at Christ, you will love him, and live upon him. Think on him continually,—keep the eye constantly upon Christ’s blood, or every blast of temptation will shake you. If you see sin’s sinfulness, to loath it and mourn, do not stand looking upon sin, but look upon Christ first, as suffering and satisfying for it. If you would see your graces, your sanctification, do not stand gazing upon them, but look at Christ’s righteousness in the first place,—see the Son, and you see all,—look at your graces in the last place.

Go to Christ in sight of your sin and misery, not of your grace and holiness. Have nothing to do with thy graces and sanctification, they will but veil Christ, till thou hast seen Christ first. He that looks upon Christ through his graces, is like one that sees the sun in water, which wavereth, and moves as the water doth. Look upon Christ only as shining in the firmament of the Father’s love and grace, you will not see him but in his own glory, which is unspeakable. Pride and unbelief will put you upon seeing somewhat in yourself first, but faith will have to do with none but Christ, who is unexpressibly glorious, and must swallow up thy sanctification as well as thy sin: for God made him both for us, and we must take him for both, 1 Cor. i. 30, 2 Cor. v. 21. He that sets up his sanctification to look at, to comfort him, he sets up the greatest idol, which will strengthen his doubts and fears. Do but look off Christ, and presently, like Peter, you sink in doubt.

A Christian never wants comfort but by breaking the order and method of the gospel, looking on his own, and looking off Christ’s perfect righteousness, which is, to choose rather to live by candlelight than by the light of the sun. The honey that you suck from your own righteousness will turn into perfect gall; and the light that you take from that to walk in will turn into black night upon the soul. Satan is tempting thee, by putting thee to plod about thine own grace, to get comfort from that; then the Father comes and points thee to Christ’s grace, as rich and glorious, infinitely pleasing to him; and biddest thee study Christ’s righteousness; and his biddings are enablings; that is, a blessed motion, a sweet whispering, checking thy belief—follow the least hint, close with much prayer, prize it as an invaluable jewel; it is an earnest of more to come. Again,

If you will pray, and cannot, and are so discouraged, see Christ praying for you, using his interest with the Father for you. What can you want? John, xiv. 7, and chap. xvii. If you be troubled, see Christ your peace, Eph. ii. 14. Leaving you peace when he went up to heaven, again and again charging you not to be troubled; no, not in the least sinfully troubled; so as to obstruct the comfort of thy believing, John, xiv. 1, 27. He is now upon the throne, having spoiled upon his cross, in the lowest state of his humiliation, all whatsoever can hurt or annoy thee; he hath borne all thy sins, sorrows, troubles, and temptations, and is gone to prepare mansions for thee.

Thou who hast seen Christ all, and thyself absolutely nothing who makest Christ all thy life, and art dead to all righteousness besides, thou art a Christian, one highly beloved, and who hath found favour with God, a favourite of heaven. Do Christ this one favour for all his love to thee; love all his poor saints and churches, the meanest, the weakest, notwithstanding any difference in judgment, they are engraven on his heart, as the names of the children of Israel on Aaron’s breast-plate; Ex. xxviii. 21. Let them be so on thine. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; they shall prosper that love thee, Ps. cxxii. 6.

THE END

SINS AND SORROWS

SPREAD

BEFORE GOD:

A SERMON,

BY THE REV. ISAAC WATTS.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

SINS AND SORROWS

SPREAD BEFORE GOD.

JOB xxiii. 3, 4.

Oh that I knew where I might find him! that I might come even to his seat! I would order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with arguments.

There is such a thing as converse with God in prayer, and it is the life and pleasure of a pious soul; without it we are no Christians; and he that practises it most, is the best follower of Christ, for our Lord spent much time in converse with his heavenly Father. This is the balm that eases the most raging pains of the mind, when the wounded conscience comes to the mercy-seat, and finds pardon and peace there. This is the cordial that revives and exalts our natures, when the spirit, broken with sorrows and almost fainting with death, draws near to the almighty Physician, and is healed and refreshed. The mercy-seat in heaven is our surest and sweetest refuge in every hour of distress and darkness on earth; this is our daily support and relief, while we are passing through a world of temptations and hardships in the way to the promised land. “It is good for us to draw near to God.” Psal. lxxiii. 28.

And yet so much is human nature sunk down and fallen from God, that even his own children are ready to indulge a neglect of converse with him, if their souls are not always upon the watch. But let it be remembered here, that so much as we abate of this divine entertainment among the vanities or amusements of the world, the businesses or burdens of life; so much we lose of the glory and joy of religion, and deprive our souls of the comfort that God invites us to receive.

Job was encompassed with sorrows all around, and his friends had censured him as a vile hypocrite, and a great sinner, because he was so terribly afflicted by the hand of God: whither should he run now but to his heavenly Father, and tell him of all his sufferings?

From the practice of this holy man, I thought we might have sufficient warrant to draw this inference, viz. that when a saint gets near to God in prayer, he tells him all his circumstances, and pleads for help. And this is the doctrine which I am endeavouring now to improve. O if I could but come near him; I would spread all my concerns before his eye, and I would plead with him for relief; I would fill my mouth with arguments.

Four things I proposed in the prosecution of this doctrine.

I. To consider what it is for a soul to get near to God in prayer.

II. What particular subjects doth a soul, thus brought near to the mercy-seat, converse with God about.

III. Why he causes to tell all his circumstances and his sorrows to God, when he is thus near him.

IV. How he pleads for relief.

I. We have already considered what it is for a soul to get near to the seat of God, and what are the usual attendants of such a privilege. At such a season the holy soul will have an awful and adoring sense of the majesty of God, a becoming fear of his terrors, and some sweeter taste of his love. There will be a divine hatred of every sin, and a sensible virtue and influence proceeding from a present God, to resist every temptation; there will be a spiritual and heavenly temper diffusing itself through the whole soul, and all the powers of it; a fixedness of heart without wandering; and a liveliness without tiring; no weariness is felt in the spirit at such a season, even though the flesh may be ready to faint under the overpowering sweetness; then the soul with freedom opens itself before the eye of God, and melts and flows in divine language, whether it complain or rejoice. But I have finished this head, and repeat no more.

II. What are some of the particular circumstances or subjects of complaint, that a saint brings to God when he comes near to him.

In general, a saint, when he is near to God, has all the fulness of his heart breaking out into holy language; he pours out his whole self before his God and his Father; all the infinite affairs that relate to the flesh and spirit, to this life and that which is to come; all things in heaven, and all things on earth, created or uncreated, may, at one time or other, be the subjects of converse between God and a holy soul. When the question is asked by a carnal man, “What can a Christian talk with God so long and so often about?” The Christian, in a divine frame, answers, “He that hath matter enough for converse with God, to wear out time, and to fill up eternity.” It may as well be asked on the other side, What has he not to say? What is there that relates to God, or to himself, to the upper, or the lower world, that he may not at some time say to his God?

But I must confine myself from wandering in so large a field, that I may comport with the design of my text. Though a good man, in devout prayer often spreads his hopes and his joys before the Lord as well as his sorrows, fear, and distresses; yet I shall at present endeavour to set forth only the mournful and complaining representations of his circumstances that he makes before the throne of God.

1. If I could but come near the mercy-seat, I would confess how great my sins are, and I would pray for pardoning grace. I would say, “How vile I am by nature;” I would count my original descent from Adam the great transgressor, and humble myself at the foot of a holy God, because I am the descent of such a sinner. I would tell him how much viler I have made myself by practice: “I have been an enemy in my mind by nature, and guilty of many wicked works, whereby I have farther estranged myself from him.” I would tell my God how multiplied my transgressions have been before I knew him, and how aggravated they have been since I have been acquainted with him. I would acquaint him with the frequency of my returning guilt, how I have sinned against mercies, against reproofs, against warnings received often from his word, and often from his providence.

I may appeal to the souls of many present, whether they have not had the greatest freedom of confession of their sins when they have been nearest to God, even though he be a God of holiness. At other times they have not only been averse to confess to any friend, but even unwilling to talk over to themselves the aggravation of their iniquities, or to mention them in prayer; but when they are brought thus near the throne of God, they unbosom themselves before him, they pour out their sins and their tears together, with a sweet and mournful satisfaction.

“I behold (says the saint) the great atonement, the blood of Jesus, and therefore I may venture to confess my great iniquities, for the satisfaction is equal to them all. When I behold God upon his seat, I behold the Lamb in the midst of the throne as it had been slain, and he is my Peace-maker. I see his all-sufficient sacrifice, his atoning blood, his perfect, his justifying righteousness.” The soul then answers the call of God with great readiness, when God says in Isaiah i. 18. “Come let us reason together; though your sins have been as scarlet, they shall be as wool.” “I am ready (says the soul) to enter into such reasonings; I am ready to confess before thee, that my sins are all crimson and scarlet, but there is cleansing blood with thy Son. Blood that has washed the garments of a thousand sinners, and made them as white as snow; and it has the same virtue still to wash mine too; I trust in it, and rejoice when I behold that blood sprinkled upon the mercy-seat, and therefore I grow confident in hope, and draw yet nearer to God, a reconciled God, since his throne has the memorials of a bleeding sacrifice upon it.”

2. If I could get nearer the seat of God I would tell him how many my enemies are, and how strong; how malicious, and how full of rage. And I would beg strength against them, and victory over them. I would say as David, “Many there be that hate me, many there be that rise up against me, and many there be that say of my soul, There is no help for him in God; but thou, O God, art my glory, my shield, and the lifter up of my head,” Psal. iii. Then, says the soul, I would complain to God of all my indwelling corruptions, of the body of death that dwells in me, or in which I dwell; and say; “O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me!” I would tell him then of the secret working of pride in my heart, though I long to be humble; of the rising of ambition in my soul, though I would willingly maintain a middle state amongst men, and not aim and aspire to be great. I would acquaint him of the vanity of my own mind, though I am perpetually endeavouring to subdue it. I would tell him, with tears, of my sinful passions, of my anger and impatience, and the workings of envy and revenge in me; of the perpetual stirrings of disorderly appetites, whereby I am led away from my God; I would tell him of the hardness of my heart, and the obstinacy of my temper. I would open before his eyes all the vices of my constitution; all those sacred seeds of iniquity that are ever budding and blossoming to bring forth fruit to death. These things are fit to mourn before the Lord, when the soul is come near to his seat.

I would complain of this sore enemy, the world, that is perpetually besetting me, that strikes upon all my senses, that by the ears, and the eyes, and all the outward faculties, draws my heart away from God my best friend. I would tell him of the rage of Satan, that watchful and malicious adversary; that I cannot engage in any duty of worship but he is ready to throw in some foolish or vain suggestion to divert me; and I would look forward, and point to my last enemy, death, and beg the presence of my God with me, when I walk through the dark valley; “Lord, when I enter into that conflict, assist me, that I may fear no evil, but be made more than a conqueror through him that has loved me.”

3. I would tell him what darkness I labour under, either in respect of faith or practice. If I am perplexed in my mind, and entangled about any of the doctrines of the gospel, I would tell them my God what my entanglements are, where the difficulty lies; and I would beg, that by his Spirit and his word, he would solve the controversy, and set his own truth before me in his own divine light. And then in point of practice, what darkness lies upon the spirit at such a time, is revealed before God: “My way is hedged up, I know not what path to chuse; it is very hard for me to find out duty; show me, O Lord, the way wherein I should walk, and mark out my path plain for me.”

4. I would mourn, and tell him how little converse I have with himself, how much he is hidden from me; I would complain to him, how far off I am from him the most part of my life, how few are the hours of my communion with him, how short is the visit, how much his face is concealed from me, and how far my heart is divided from him. A soul then says, “Surely there is too great a distance between me and my God, my heavenly Father;” and cries out with bitterness, “Why is God so far from me, and why is my heart so far from God? How often do I wait upon him in his own sanctuary, and among his saints, but I am not favoured with a sight of his power and glory there! And how often do I seek him in my secret retirements, but I find him not! I would tell him how often I read his promises in the gospel, and taste no sweetness; I go frequently to those wells of consolation and they seem to be dry; then I turn my face, and go away ashamed.”

5. I would tell him too of my temporal troubles, if I get near to God, because they unfit me for his service, they make me uncapable of honouring him in the world, and render me unfit for enjoying him in his ordinances; I would tell him how they damp my zeal, how they bow my spirit down, and make me go mourning all the day long, to the dishonour of Christianity, which is a dispensation of grace and joy. Thus I might complain before God of pains, of weakness, of sickness, of the disorders of my flesh; I might complain there too of the weakness of all my powers, the want of memory, the scatterings and confusions that are upon my thoughts, the wanderings of my fancy, and the unhappy influence that a feeble and diseased body has upon the mind: “O my God, how am I divided from thee by dwelling in such a tabernacle! Still patching up a tottering cottage, and wasting my best hours in a painful attendance on the infirmities of the flesh!”

I might then take the liberty of spreading before my God all the sorrows and vexations of life, that unhinge my soul from its centre, that throw it off from my guard, and hurry and expose me to daily temptations. I might complain of my reproaches from friends and enemies; because these, many times, wear out the spirit and unfit it for acts of lively worship. These are my weekly sorrows and groans, these are my daily fears and troubles; and these shall be spread before the eyes of my God, in the happy hour when I get near him.

Lastly, I would not go away without a word of pity and complaint concerning my relations, my friends and acquaintance, that are afar off from God. I would put in one word of petition for them that are careless unconcerned for themselves; I would weep a little at the seat of God for them: I would leave a tear or two at the throne of mercy, for my dearest relatives in the flesh, for children, brothers or sisters, that they may be brought near to God, in the bonds of the Spirit. Then would I remember my friends in Christ, my brethren and kindred in the gospel; such as labour under heavy burdens, languish under various infirmities of life, or groan under the power of strong temptations. When God indulges me the favour of his ear, I would spread their wants and sorrows before him, together with my own, and make supplication for all the saints. I would leave a petition at the mercy-seat for my native country, that knowledge and holiness may overspread the nation; that our king may be a nursing-father to the church, and our princes may be blessings to the land. And while I send up my request for the British Islands, I would breathe out many a sigh for Zion, that she may be the joy of the whole earth.—I proceed now to.

III. The third head of inquiry, which is this: Why does a saint, when he gets near to God delight to tell him all his circumstances, and all his sorrows?

In general I might say this, because it is so seldom, at least in our day, that a saint gets very near to God; therefore when he finds that happy minute, he says to his God all he wants to say; he tells him all his heart; he pours out all his wants before him; because these seasons are very few. It is but here and there an extraordinary Christian, who maintains constant nearness to God; the best complain of too much distance and estrangement. But to descend to particulars.

1. He is our chief friend, and it is an ease to the soul to vent itself in the bosom of a friend, when we are in his company. More especially as it was in the case of Job, when other friends failed him when he began to tell them some of his sorrows, and withal maintained his own integrity; they would not believe him, but became his troublers instead of his comforters; “My friends, scorn me,” saith Job, ch. xvi. 20, “but mine eye pours out tears to God.” I go to my best friend, my friend in heaven, when my friends here on earth neglect me.

Man is a sociable creature, and our joys and our sorrows are made to be communicated, that hereby we may double the one and alleviate the other. There is scarce any piece of human nature, be it ever so stupid, but feels some satisfaction in the pleasure of a friend, in communicating the troubles and the pleasures that it feels; but those that have God for their highest and best friend, they love to be often exercising such acts of friendship with him, and rather with him than with any friend besides, rather with him than all besides him. This is the noblest and highest friendship; all condescension and compassion on the one side, and all infirmity and dependance on the other! and yet both joined is mutual satisfaction. Amazing grace of God to man! The Christian rejoices in this admirable divine indulgence, and delights in all opportunities to employ and improve it.

Besides, this is the way to maintain the vigour of piety, and keep all the springs of divine love ever open and flowing in his own heart; therefore he makes many a visit to the mercy-seat, and takes occasion from every troublesome occurence in life, to betake himself to his knees, and improves every sorrow he meets on earth, to increase his acquaintance with heaven. He delights to talk all his grievances over with his God. Hannah, the mother of Samuel, is a blessed example of this practice, 1 Sam. i. 10. When she was in bitterness of soul, by reason of a sore affliction, and the teazing humour of her rival, she prayed to the Lord, and wept sore, and when she had left her sorrows at the mercy-seat, she went away, and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad, ver. 18. So saith the Christian, “I commit my sorrows to my God, he is my best friend, and I go away, and am no more sad; I have poured out my cares into his ear, and cast my burdens upon him, and I leave them there in peace.”

2. The saint knows God will understand him right, and will judge right concerning his case and his meaning. Though the expression (it may be) are very imperfect, below the common language of men, and propriety of speech, yet God knows the meaning of the soul, and he knows the mind of his Spirit, Rom. viii. The friends of Job perverted his sense; therefore he turns aside to God, for he knows God would understand him. It is a very great advantage, when we spread our concerns before another person, to be well assured that person will take us right, will take in our meaning fully, and judge aright concerning our cause. Now we may be assured of this when we speak to our God; he knows our thoughts afar, off, and all our circumstances, better infinitely than we can tell him. These our poor imperfect expressions of our wants, shall be no hinderance to his full supplies, nor any bar to his exercise of friendship toward us.

3. A saint pours out his soul before God, because he is sure of secrecy there. How many things are there transacted between God and a holy soul, that he could never publish to the world! and many things also that concern his conduct in life, his embarassment of spirit, his difficulties, his follies, or the obstinacy, guilt, or follies of his friends or relatives, which prudence or shame forbid him to tell his fellow creatures: and yet he wants to spread them all before God his best friend, God his dearest relative, the friend nearest to his heart. There may be many circumstances and cases in life, especially in the spiritual life, which one Christian could hardly communicate to another, though under the strictest bonds and ties of natural, and civil, and sacred relation; though we may communicate these very affairs, these secret concerns, with our God, and unburden our souls of every care, without the least public notice.

We cannot be perfect secure of this with regard to any creature; for when we have experienced the faithfulness of a friend many years, he may possibly be at last unfaithful: unfaithfulness is mingled with our nature since the fall, and it is impossible any person can be infallibly secure from it. Psal. lxii. 9. Men of low degree are vanity, and great men are a lie; but we may leave our case with our God, as secure as though we had communicated it to none: nay, we may be easily secure and free in speaking, because God knows all before-hand. Our complaint adds nothing to his knowledge, although it eases our souls, and gives us sweet satisfaction in having such a friend to speak to.

4. A saint believes the equity, faithfulness, and the love of God; therefore he spreads his case before him. His equity, that the judge of all the earth will do right; the righteous may plead with him. His faithfulness, that he will fulfil all his promises; and his love, that he will take compassion on those who are afflicted; he will be tender to those who are miserable. David takes occasion from this to address God under his sufferings and sorrows: Psal. lxii. 1, 2. “He is my rock, and my salvation, and my defence; I shall not be moved; therefore my soul waits upon God; my refuge is in him; he is a God that hears prayer, therefore unto him shall all flesh come,” Psal. lxv. 1. God will not account our complaints troublesome, though they be never so often repeated; whereas men are quickly wearied with the importunities of those who are poor and needy. Great men are ready to shut their doors against those who come too often for relief; but God delights to hear often from his people, and to have them ask continually at his door for mercy. Though he has almighty power with him, saith Job, yet he will not plead against me with his great power; no, but he would put strength in me; he would teach me how I should answer him; how I should answer his justice, by appeals to his mercy; and how I should speak prevailingly before him.

5. Lastly, A saint tells God all his circumstances and sorrows at such a season, because he hopes for relief from him, and from him only; for it is impossible creatures can give relief under any trouble, unless God make them instruments of relief. And there are some troubles in which creatures cannot be our helpers, but our help must come only from God, and that in a more immediate way. Whatsoever be our distress, whether it arise from past guilt and the torments of an anxious and troubled conscience, or whether it arise from the working of indwelling sin, the strength of temptation, or the violence of temporal afflictions, still God is able and willing to give relief. “Call upon me (saith the Lord) in the day of trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me;” Psal. 1. 12. And he hath never said to the seed of Jacob, seek ye my face in vain, Isa. xlv. 19.

IV. The fourth general head of discourse which I proposed, is to shew how a saint, near the mercy-seat, pleads with God for relief.

Holy Job tells us in this text, that if he was got near to the seat of God, he would fill his mouth with arguments.

Not as though he would inform God of the necessity, or the justice of his cause, beyond what he knew before; no, this is impossible; he that teacheth man all things, shall he not know? Psal. xciv. 9, 10. He who orders all the circumstances of our lives, and every stroke of his own rod, can he be unacquainted with any thing that relates to our sorrows?

Nor can we use arguments with God to awaken his ear, or move his compassion, as though he had neglected us or forgotten our distress; for all things are for ever naked and open before the eyes of him with whom we have to do. The shepherd of Israel cannot slumber; nor does his mercy want our awakenings.

But in this sort of expressions, the great God condescends to talk, and to transact affairs with us, and permits us to treat with him in a way suited to our weakness; he would have us plead and argue with him, that we may show how deep a sense we have of our own wants, and how entirely we depend on his mercy. Since we cannot converse with him in a way equal to his own majesty and Godhead he stoops to talk with us in such a way as is most agreeable to our state, and most easy to our apprehension, he speaks such language as we can understand, and invites us to humble conference with him in the same way. Come, says God to his people, by Isaiah his prophet, Come now, and let us reason together, Isa. i. 18. And he often in holy scripture, represents himself as moved and influenced by the prayers and pleadings of his afflicted saints; and he has ordained before hand, that the day when he prepares their hearts to pray, shall be the day when his ear shall hear the desire of the humble, and shall be the season of their deliverence, Psal. x. 17.

If you inquire, how a Christian pleads with his God, and whence does he borrow his arguments; I answer, that according to the various sorrows and difficulties which attend him, so various may his pleadings be for the removal of them. There is not a circumstance which belongs to his affliction, but he may draw some argument from it to plead for mercy; there is not one attribute of the divine nature, but he may use it with holy skill, and thereby plead for grace; there is not one relation in which God stands to his people, nor one promise of his covenant, but may at some time or other afford an argument in prayer. But the strongest and sweetest argument that a Christian knows, is the name and mediation of Jesus Christ his Lord. It is for the sake of Christ, who has purchased all the blessings of the covenant, that a saint hopes to receive them; and for the sake of Christ, he pleads that God would bestow them.

But having treated largely on this subject, it remains that I make a few useful reflections on the whole foregoing discourse.

REFLECTION I.

What a dull and uncomfortable thing is religion without drawing near to God! for this is the very business for which religion is designed; the end and aim of religion is getting nigh to God; if it attain not this end it is nothing.

O the madness of hypocrites, who satisfy themselves to toil in long forms of worship, and appear perpetually in the shapes of religion, but unconcerned whether they ever get near to God by it or no! They lose the end and design for which religion was made. What if we know all the doctrines of the gospel; what if we can talk rationally about natural religion; what if we can deduce one truth from another, so as to spread a whole scheme of godliness before the eyes or ears of those we converse with; what if we can prove all the points of Christianity, and give uncontestable arguments for the belief of them; yet we have no religion if our souls never get near to God by them. A saint thinks it a very melancholy thing when he is at a distance from God, and cannot tell God his wants and sorrows. Though he be never so much studied in divinity, and the deep things of God, yet if God be not with him, if he does not come near to his mercy-seat, so as to converse with him as his friend, the soul is concerned and grieved, and never rests till this distance be removed. It is to little purpose all these forms are maintained, if we have not the substance and the power of godliness; if our God be not near us, if we never get near to God.

REFLECTION II.

How happy are we under the gospel, above all ages and nations besides us, and before us! For we have advantages of getting near to God, beyond what any other religion has; above what the heathen world ever enjoyed; for their light of nature could never show them the throne of grace; above what the ancient patriarchs had, though God came down in visible shapes, and revealed and discovered himself to them as a man or an angel; above what the Jews had, though God dwelt among them in visible glory in the holy of holies. The people were kept at a distance, and the high-priest was to come thither but once a-year; and their veil, and smokes, and shadows, did, as it were, conceal God from them, although they were types of a future Messiah; and even their Shekinah itself, or cloud of glory, gave them no spiritual idea or notion of Godhead, though it was a shining emblem of God dwelling among them.

REFLECTION III.

Lastly, That future state of glory must be blessed indeed where we shall be ever near to God, even to his seat, and have no sorrows to tell him of. If it be so delightful a thing to come near the seat of God here upon earth, to mourn before him, and to tell him all our circumstances, and all our sorrows, how pleasurable a blessedness must that of heaven be, where we shall be ever rejoicing before him, as Christ Jesus was before the world was made, rejoicing daily before him; and our delight shall be with that God who created the sons of men; where we shall be for ever telling him of our joys, and our pleasures, with humble adoration of his grace, and everlasting gratitude.

O that I could raise your souls, and mine, to blessed breathings after this felicity, by such representations! But how infinitely short must the brightest descriptions fall of this state and place! May you and I, who speak and hear this, may every soul of us be made thus happy one day, and learn the extent and glory of this blessedness, by sweet and everlasting experience. Amen.

FINIS.

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MOURNERS.

WITH A SELECTION OF

SCRIPTURE PROMISES,

RELATIVE TO

THE TROUBLES of LIFE.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust him for his grace;

Behind a frowning Providence

He hides a smiling face.

GLASGOW;

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

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FOR

MOURNERS.

&c.

2. KINGS, iv. 26.

And she answered, It is well.

Short words, soon spoken; but to have a suitableness of heart to them is one of the highest attainments of faith. To be sure, “It is well;” we think so, when all things go according to our wish; when there is nothing in Providence that crosses our desires, that thwarts our designs, that sinks our hopes, or awakens our fears; Submission is easy work then; but to have all things seemingly against us, to have God smiting in the tenderest part, unravelling all our schemes, contradicting our desires, and standing aloof from our very prayers; how do our souls behave then? This is the true touchstone of our sincerity and submission; “Here,” as it is said, Rev. xiii. 10, “is the patience and faith of the saints;” this shews what they are made of, what they are within; but instances there are many in the book of God, wherein we find this sweet frame prevailing, as Abraham, Job, David, and the Shulamite in my text, than whose story we meet with few things in Providence more affecting. If you look back a little, you may see what were her circumstances, and those of her family. She was a “great woman,” says verse 8, and that she was a “good woman,” the whole context shews, her husband and she wanted but one thing to make them as happy as the vanity and uncertainty of all human affairs would admit of. They had enough of the world, and they seem to have had the enjoyment of it; for when Elisha, to requite her kindness, asks; “What shall be done for thee? Wouldst thou be spoken for to the king? &c.” she answers, “No, I dwell among mine own people,” “I seek nothing greater than what I have:” only (as Gehazie learned from her) they wanted a child to comfort them now, and to inherit what they had when they were gone. God in a miraculous way, gives this request. This child grows up, and was no doubt the delight of its parents. Just at the time of life when children are most engaging, before they are capable of doing any great thing to grieve their parents, God lays his hand suddenly upon him and takes him away. The dearest comforts are but short lived, and the dearer they are when living, the deeper they cut when they are removed. Many of you can judge what the loss of a son, an only son, must be, and when there is no hope of a Seth instead of Abel. But, behold, “he taketh away, and who shall hinder him?” Well: What does the mother do now? One would think all her hope is cut off, and all her comfort dried up: No, it is far otherwise. The same power that gave him could also raise him; in faith of this, she lays him upon the prophet’s bed, and makes all the haste to him she could. She concealing what had happened (as it is probable) from her husband, he objects to her going to the prophet, ver. 23, “Wherefore wilt thou go to him to-day? It is neither new-moon nor Sabbath.” And she said, “It shall be well.” Faith sets aside every obstacle: “It shall be well: the end will be peace;” “God is with me, and he will make all things work together for good.” Commentators, in general, make very light of this, and her answer to Elisha’s message in my text. Some suppose she has a reserve in her breast, when Gehazi asks after her family, that this “well” only refers to her husband and herself. Others think it is but a transition to something farther, which she was in haste to say; as if she had said, “All is well do not hinder me, I have urgent business with your master Elisha, and cannot stay to talk farther with you upon any matters.” This is the sense which most annotators incline to, which, I confess, I the more wonder at, because all agree, that the apostle’s words in part refer to this story, Heb. xi. 35. “Women received their dead raised to life again.” How they received them is there specified; namely, by or “through faith.” Faith, not as some carry it, in the prophet, but in the persons who had their dead restored to them; or else there would have been no need to make mention of any by name. Now wherein this woman’s faith appeared, my text and context make manifest. Here was a dependance upon God’s promise, an abiding by that, God had promised her a son; a son, not to lose him but to have comfort in him; and, as if she had said, “As for God, his work is perfect, he does not use to raise his people’s expectations for nothing; to give and immediately take away again. My son is dead, but God, all sufficient liveth; why should I mourn as though I had no hope? As for God’s power and faithfulness there is no abatement in them.” Therefore, she makes no preparation for his burial tells her husband nothing of his death, but seeks to God by the prophet, and expects help from him, See how she expresses herself: “Is it well with thee?” (and says Gehazzi,) “Is it well with thy husband? Is it well with the child?” and she answered, “It is well”. Here is the greatest submission in the greatest distress: Her son, her only son, the son of all her love, the son of her old age, he is taken away with a stroke, and yet all is well. There is nothing amiss in the dispensation; had she been to choose it, it is well; she has nothing to object. Here are submission and faith both discovered in their sweet exercise; submission to what God hath done; faith in what he is able to do, and in what she believed he would do: “By faith women received their dead raised to life again;” so that the words, thus explained, afford us this plain and useful observation.

OBSERV. Faith in God’s promise and power will bring a man to submit to the sorest and most trying dispensations of his Providence; or thus,

Faith where it is in exercise, will teach a Christian to say of all God does, “It is well.”

In discoursing on this proposition, I will endeavour to show what submission is, or how and in what sense we are to understand the expression in my text, “It is well.”

This “well” dost not suppose there is nothing in providential dispensations, which to flesh and sense appears evil. Submission quiets under an affliction, but it does not take away our sense and feeling of the affliction. The apostle speaks what is every believer’s experience, Heb. xii. 11. “No chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous.” Whatever be spoken of the good of it, it presents itself unto us with a very different face; it is matter of present grief and sorrow to them that are chastised; nor are we blamed for our feeling and sense of it. Our blessed Lord himself wept at the grave of his dear friend, John xi. 35. And at the approach of his last sufferings, “his soul was exceeding sorrowful, even unto death,” Matt. xxvi. 38. “yet he was led as a lamb to the slaughter; he opened not his mouth”: there was patience and quiet submission under all his sorrows, while nature had some vent; for groans are sometimes an easement to our grief. Thus it is said of the good woman, “that her soul was bitter within her,” ver. 27. Elisha saw her agony in her looks, though he knew not the cause of it; and yet “All is well.” When Job lost his substance and his children, and was smitten in his body with sore boils; when Heman, and when the church in the Lamentations were deprived of the consolations from God, when the Comforter, who would relieve their souls, was far from them; when David also was cursed by Shimei, and turned out of doors by his own son; can you think that in all these there was no feeling? Had there been none, there could have been no profit by any of the dispensations. Unless we realize our trials indeed, what are we the better for them? This would be to despise the chastening of the Lord, to be above correction, to be smitten and not grieve, is one of God’s sorest judgments, and always argues a soul ripe for ruin: this “well” does not suppose us insensible of the evil of afflicting.

Though we believe all that befals us is well, this does not forbid our inquiring into the reasons of God’s providential dispensations, and a searching out the cause for which they come upon us. Every rod hath a voice in it, and the “man of understanding will hear it,” and “see the name of God in it,” Micah vi. 9. what God intends by it, what is his ends and design in it; for he does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men, Lam. iii. 33. There is a “need be” in every dispensation that befals us: 1 Pet. i. 6. “Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season” (if need be) “ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations.” God acts with judgment in proportion to our needs; there is a conveniency and fitness, nay, there is an absolute necessity in the case; it must be that we are in heaviness and that through manifold temptations. One single trial oftentimes will not do, to empty us of self, to wean us from the world, to shew us the vanity of the creature, the sinfulness of sin, &c.; it must be repeated or others joined with it, so fast are our affections glued to the things of time and sense. Now, what this need is in us, what this intention and end is in God, the Christian will and ought to be searching out, and inquiring daily into. This was Job’s frame, (and ye have heard, as says the apostle, of the patience of Job.) Job xxxiv. 31. 32. “Surely it is meet to be said unto God I have borne chastisement, I will not offend any more. That which I see not, teach thou me; if I have done iniquity, I will do no more.” Sin lies deep, it must be searched after in the deep and secret corners of the heart; there is so much self-love and self-flattery hid there, that a man cannot judge aright of himself, or of God without divine teachings.

“ It is meet to be said unto God, I have borne chastisement.” Sirs, it is one thing to be chastised, and another thing to bear chastisement; to behave aright under it; to be patient, submissive, thankful; to have a frame of heart suited to the dispensation, whatever it is. This is to bear chastisement: and wherever this is, the language of the soul will be, “That which I see not teach thou me; I have done iniquity, I will do no more.” When an affliction is sanctified, it always begets godly fear and jealousy. A man is then most afraid of his own heart, lest that should deceive him; lest he should come out of the furnace unpurged, unrefined; lest the end of God’s visitation upon him should be unattained. And this is well consistent with our believing all that God does is well done. Once more,

A soul may say in a becoming frame, and in the exercise of suitable affections, “It is well,” and yet long, and pray, and wait from the trial. Submission to the will of God, under awful dispensations, is not inconsistent with earnest prayer for a gracious and speedy issue to these very dispensations. “It is well,” says this good woman in my text; and yet how does she plead for the life of the child, ver. 28. “Did I desire a son of my lord? Did not I say do not deceive me?” As if she had said, “I asked it not, I could scarce believe it when it was promised me; God raised my expectations himself, he encouraged my hopes, and surely he will not go back from his own word.” It was a wonderful act of faith; but the promises of God can never lie long unfulfilled: when he has prepared the heart to pray, his own ear is open to hear. He has not called himself “I am that I am,” for nothing. Abraham staggered not at the promise through unbelief, no more does the daughter of Abraham here: it is blessed pleading, “Did not I say, do not deceive me?” “May I trust? May I venture? He has given me the faithful word of God to rely on; here my faith resteth.” And a son came in due season. Now she looks to God, the author of the mercy, and applies to the prophet, who was the revealer of it. He sends Gehazi with his staff, but this will not content her, except Elisha goes himself: she knows that he was great with God; she will therefore have his prayers and presence “As the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee,” ver. 30. All this argues the strong desires of her heart after the return of the child’s life, though still she says, “All is well.” While, we bear chastenings, we may pray, and pray hard that God would take them off. “If it be possible,” (says innocent aggrieved nature in the man Christ,) “let this cup pass from me,” Matthew xxvi. 26. Opening our mouth against God is our sin, but it is our duty to open our mouths and our hearts to him. In the former sense, says David, “I was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because thou didst it,” Psal. xxxix. 9.; and yet, with the same breath, he adds, “Remove thy stroke away from me: I am consumed by the blow of thine hand,” ver. 10. Was a child under the direction of a parent to intimate no desire of his forbearance, should we not rather account him stubborn than submissive? In like manner, not to ask of God release from troubles, is as offensive as to mourn at them. It is the token of a proud heart and a relentless spirit. God expects other things at our hands; even of the wicked he says, “In their affliction they will seek me early;” much more shall his own people, who have known his name, and put their trust in him; who have known the advantage of prayer, and been so often set at liberty by it from all their fears. If these are silent, they cannot be sensible nor submissive. Only in all their prayers, when they are most earnest and vehement, “If it be consistent with the will of God,” and there will be no limiting him as to time or way.

These things are neither of them inconsistent with the soul’s saying, under the most awful rebukes, “All is well.”

Now, what is included in this “well” in my text, or what is this submission to the will of God? It takes in, as I apprehend, these three things:

1. A justifying God in all he does “It is well;” God cannot do amiss; he worketh all things after the counsel of his own will, to the praise of his glory. “And after all that is come upon us,” says the Church, Ezra ix. 13. “thou, our God, hast punished us less than our iniquities deserve; thou hast taken vengeance according to the desert of our sins.” When sin appears to be what it is in itself, exceeding sinful, affliction will appear light, and not till then. Wherefore, says the church, Lam. iii. 39, “wherefore, does a living man complain, for the punishment of his sins?” So long as we are out of hell, God punishes less than our iniquities deserve.

Whatever be our trial, it comes from God: he is the author, whoever be the instrument, therefore, “it is well,” He cannot do iniquity: David had not one word to say, by way of complaint, when he saw God’s hand in the affliction: yea, let him curse, for “the Lord hath bid Shimei curse David,” 2 Sam. xvi. 12. We may puzzle and distress ourselves about instruments and second causes, but no quiet no rest can we have, till we are led to the first. “He performeth the thing appointed for me;” that settles the soul, but nothing else will do it. “Be still and know that I am God,” Psal. xlvi. 10. If thy children are taken, thy substance fails, thy body is sore vexed, thy comforts, and even the presence of thy God leaves thee; yet be still, that is, do not say a word against the dispensation, do not fret, do not censure and condemn Providence. I am God, thy God in all; and a covenant God cannot do amiss. God will be glorified and exalted, that’s enough for us. This, “It is well,” implies in it, not in some things, but in all.

2. This submission implies in it, our approving of all God does; not only it is not amiss, but it is right; it is the best way, the only sure way to bring about our good. Therefore holy Job blesses God in all, chap. i. 21. “Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” He had the same great and good thought of God as ever he had; God was his God still, and the God of his mercy. He should have an expected, a desired end; that he believed still, still, because God’s thoughts were the same they ever were; that is thoughts of peace and not of evil. And this is the frame in which we find the poor saints, that were scattered up and down throughout the whole world almost, 1 Pet. i. 6. “who are kept by the power of God through salvation, ready to be revealed in the last time, wherein ye greatly rejoice,” &c. They were far from one another to avoid persecution, it was in their way: but none of these things moved them. There was joy in their expected rest in happiness at last, though there was great pain and heaviness in the way to it: the way was rough, but right; therefore they approved of it, they acquiesced in it; nay, herein “they greatly rejoiced.” Thus the saints of old took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, and were tortured, not accepting deliverance, because they knew in themselves, “that they had in heaven a better and an enduring substance,” Heb. x. 34. O that blessed knowledge! it comforts, refreshes, it fills the soul, and lifts a man above himself.

Every path which God takes is right then and the believer chooses to walk in it: His God, his Father, has marked it out, and nothing goes so against the grain, but that “all is well,” which his Father does: His will is brought to be one with God’s; the soul approves of all God does.

3. This submission implies in it our cleaving to God in all. To be pleased with God as a friend, when he seems to be coming forth against, us as an enemy; to lean upon a promise, when all the ways leading to the performance are shut up; to rejoice in God when we have nothing left beside to rejoice in, and faith is hard put to it to call God ours. Thus, to cleave to God when we do not find comfort from him, this is believing indeed; to love the hand that smites, this is true grace and great grace. A noble act of faith was that, Job xiii. 15. “though he slay me, yet will I trust in him;” So “Abraham staggered not at the promises through unbelief,” Rom. iv. 20. He brought God’s promises and faithfulness close together, and considered none of the difficulties nay absurdities, which came between them: It was not—“Is this reasonable? What probability is there in that? How can these things be?” &c. but being not weak in faith, he considered not his own body now dead, neither yet the deadness of Sarah’s womb, but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; he clave to him, abode by his promise in a way of faith and firm dependance.

This is the true nature of submission, and is contained in that expression in my text, “It is well.” A word of use.—

USE 1. Wonder not at your trials, be they never so strange: “All is well;” some secret end is to be answered which you see not; God is in all; the hand and love of a Father is there. They are to purge from sin, to wean from the world, to bring you from the foot of God, to shew you that your rest is not here, that it lies beyond the grave. What though they make you smart, they do you the more good: this argues your sensibleness under the rod; that is not a rod which does not cause smart; the sharpest physic does most service, because it reaches the inward, hidden cause, not one of our many trials which we could well spare.

USE 2. Do not think any trial sanctified, till you have a suitable frame to the trial, whatever it be. Are you humbled? Are you prayerful? Are you submissive? Have you looked inward, and confessed your sin, saying, Take away all iniquity? If the affliction has not brought you to this, it hath done you no good. For all you may have borne, his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still.

USE 3. Do not think of other means, whereby God’s end in visiting you might have been as well answered; that is, in fact, to quarrel with God in what he has done, or is doing. Have a care of your thoughts; unsubmission slips in at that door before one is aware. “It is well,” is the only soul quickening and God-glorifying frame. God that has appointed the end, has settled, and he will order the means: Rest there, and “all is well.”

HINTS TO THE AFFLICTED.

What fatal mischiefs would follow, if there was no variety in our experience! There are so many remains of depraved nature in the hearts of the saints, that if the warm sun of prosperity did always shine upon the Lord’s garden, the weeds would quickly multiply, the choicest flowers wither, and an army of caterpillars devour the pleasant fruits. To prevent these, God will not suffer his people to enjoy uninterrupted prosperity, but wisely appoints seasons of affliction and trouble.

On the other hand, were we to groan under perpetual adversity, our souls perhaps would suffer equal prejudice. Our heavenly father will not always chide; he remembers that we are but dust, and that our flesh is not like brass or iron. Were we never in the fire, our dross would not be consumed, and were we always to be in the fire, our silver and gold would be wasted.

Hereby God takes a proper method for the exercise and improvement of the graces of his children. Without such a mixed condition, there could be no room for many of them, and not room enough for any of them to appear in their glory and beauty. Were it always a day of prosperity where would be the proof of their faith, hope and patience?—the evil day brings thee to rest. To possess our souls in patience, in the day of trouble to believe the good will and fatherly love of God even when he smites, is a point of no small difficulty.—But, were we never to enjoy a season of prosperity, where would be the evidence of our humility, heavenly mindedness, and contempt of a present world? Variety adds a beauty and lustre to providence. In the day of prosperity therefore, we ought to rejoice with trembling, and in the day of adversity, to consider and faint not; for “God hath set one against the other, to the end that no man might find any thing after him,” Eccl. vii. 14.

While in this valley of tears, it is not wonderful that believers should be often called to weep. To mingle their tears with those of their brethren—or in the words of the apostle, to “weep with those that weep,”—is a part of the holy fellowship they are called to by the gospel.

At present, the way of providence in general is dark and mysterious. There is a depth in it, for which we have no line. There are many seals on it, not fit as yet to be opened. But when the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne, shall open the seals, and shew the meaning of all the dark passages in that mysterious book, and every one is made to view that part of it that related to the way in which they were brought through manifold tribulations to the kingdom, when they will all strike up on the highest key, and sing “HE HATH DONE ALL THINGS WELL!”

Believers ought to comfort one another with these words. It is heartsome for travellers on the road in a dark night, and going to the same place, to speak to each other in the language of the country to which they are going, and to say, “What of the night! what of the night!” And to encourage one another, by often reiterating that animating reply, “The morning cometh.”

The shadows of the evening are daily growing longer with all the travellers to the heavenly Sion. But at evening time it shall be light. The bright shining of the sun of Righteousness will make even the passage through the dark valley of the shadow of death lightsome and pleasant. Faith can see eternal day at the farther end of it. Jesus went through the Jordan of death when it overflowed all its banks, and was brimful of the curse. But his death drank up the curse, and left nothing but a blessing to all his redeemed: and his sweet and cheering voice is still to be heard in the passage—“Fear not! I am He that liveth, and was dead; and behold I am alive for evermore; and have the keys of hell and of death!”

“IF THEIR UNCIRCUMCISED HEARTS,” said the Lord respecting ancient Israel, “be humbled, and they ACCEPT of the punishment of their iniquity, then will I remember my covenant with Jacob,” &c. Lev. xxvi. 41.—of the punishment of their iniquity! that is, bear it willingly contentedly. It is a happy state of mind when our trials are ACCEPTED ones: when God’s chastening hand is even esteemed a kindness.—Lord! may the believer say, I will not puzzle myself with hows, and whys, and yets. THOU hast done it; I rest there. It seemed good in thy sight that is a sufficient reason. Let God choose my portion; I am sure it will be best in the end.—Even when He acts as a Sovereign, he forgets not his relation as a father.

SCRIPTURE PROMISES.

Psalm 68—6. A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widow is God in his holy habitation.

Jeremiah 49—11. Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.

Job 5—17. Happy is the man whom God correcteth: therefore despise not thou the chastening of the Almighty. Verse 18. For he maketh sore, and bindeth up; he woundeth, and his hands make whole.

Psalm 119—67. Before I was afflicted I went astray; but now have I kept thy word Verse 71. It is good for me, that I have been afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes. 75. I know, O Lord, thy judgements are right, and thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me.

2. Corinthians 4—16. For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. Verse 17. For our light affliction which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.

Hebrews 21—6. Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth. Verse 7. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the father chasteneth not? 10. They verily, for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness. 11. Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of righteousness, unto them which are exercised thereby.

Deut. 8—5. As a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee.

Job 36—8. And if they be bound in fetters, and be holden in cords of affliction. Verse 9. Then he sheweth them their work and their transgressions, that they have exceeded. 10. He openeth also their ear to discipline, and commandeth that they return from iniquity.

Psalm 94—12. Blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, O Lord and teachest him out of thy law. Verse 13. That thou mayest give him rest from the days of adversity, until the pit be digged for the wicked.

Romans 5—3. We glory in tribulation also, knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope.

Job 19—26. Though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. Verse 27. Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another, though my reins shall be consumed within me.

Isaiah 26—19. Thy dead men shall live, together with my dead body shall they arise. Awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust: for thy dew is as the dew of herbs: and the earth shall cast out the dead.

A

PRAYER BOOK

FOR

FAMILIES

AND PRIVATE PERSONS,

UPON VARIOUS SUBJECTS AND OCCASIONS

In which all the Prayers are so arranged, that when any one is too long to be used without inconvenience, it may be shortened by leaving out some of the paragraphs: and this may be done without injury to the connection.

TO WHICH ARE ADDED,

GRACES FOR YOUNG PERSONS.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

PRAYER-BOOK.

The following admonition read occasionally before Family-worship, is very proper to produce seriousness of mind, and to keep up a godly jealousy, lest hypocrisy and formality should render this important duty of no use.

My Friends and Fellow-Christians,

We, dust and ashes, are assembled to speak unto the holy Lord God of heaven and earth, our Maker and our Judge, who deserves from us all possible reverence whenever we presume to call upon Him. We are going to pray to that God who strictly charges us to take heed that we draw not nigh to him with our lips, whilst our hearts are far from him—to that God who is of purer eyes to regard our services without the meditation of the Holy One and the Just, who died for our sins, but hath promised to give us whatever we shall ask of him in his name, and to perform all our petitions.

Now, therefore, let us lift up our hearts to him that he may fill us with reverence and godly fear, with sincerity and lowliness of mind, with lively faith in the blood and prevailing intercession of Jesus, and with assurance that we shall receive whatever we ask according to his will. With these holy dispositions we should always desire to bow down our knees before God.

A FAMILY MORNING PRAYER.

O Thou, Father of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and God of glory, who hast so loved the world as to give thy only-begotten Son, to the end, that all who believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life, mercifully regard us merciful sinners. Thou seest how slow of heart we are to believe the record thou hast given of thy Son. Though we read of his glory, how little does it affect us! Though he has a name which is above every name in heaven or earth, how little affiance do we feel in him! or consolation from all that he hath done and suffered!

Have compassion upon us, O Lord, and help us. Give us what thou hast most graciously promised, the Spirit of truth to open our understanding, that we may understand the things which are spoken of thy Son in the scriptures. O give us the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him; of his person and his office; of his love and power towards all that hear his voice and follow him; that so we may abound in clear, magnificent, and endearing thoughts of Jesus Christ the Lord; that he may be no less precious to us than he was to the glorious company of the Apostles, and the noble army of the martyrs. Thou, O God, hast declared that thy Son shall be exalted and extolled, and shall be very high. Help us, we earnestly pray thee, to give him the honour day by day, more perfectly. Enable us to comprehend with all saints the immeasurable extent of his love; the breadth and length, the height and depth thereof.

We beg this of thee, O our God, in order that we may have our affections raised up to heaven, where Christ sitteth on thy right hand; that we may grow more dead to the world, and walk more becoming our Christian character: that we may be enriched as much as possible with light and grace, joy and peace in this present life; and to shew forth the praise of Him who hath called us out of darkness into marvellous light.

We beseech thee, that the excellency of our knowledge of Christ may be evidenced to others, by our adding day by day to our faith a noble Christian courage, in defence of his truth, honour, and government: by a constant victory over our corrupt affections; by a moderate use of all lawful comforts; by a meek and quiet spirit under all our trials, and by resignation to the will of our heavenly Father.

Grant, O Lord, that our knowledge of the redemption that is in Jesus may work effectually this day upon our hearts. Let the Saviour’s love to us be the pattern of ours to all that are round about us; let it make us zealous to embrace all opportunities of ministering to the happiness of one another. If we cannot assist the needy by our alms, or protect the oppressed by our power, O let us diligently exercise love, in abstaining from all uncharitableness of speech, from all forwardness and evil tempers: let us look upon the failings of others with pity, as if they were our own: make us kind and tender hearted, forbearing and forgiving all, as thou, for Christ’s sake, hast forgiven us. Banish from our dwelling all variance, whisperings, heart-burnings, and evil surmisings. Let peace and gentleness, meekness and goodness, be exercised by all of us one towards another, and the only contention in our family be this, who shall conform most to the will of God, by abounding in brotherly kindness and fervent charity. Thou, O God, that makest men to be of one mind that dwell together, inspire us with a spirit of concord, and harmonize all our naturally selfish tempers. O let this benefit at least be found from our family-devotion, that we may agree better together, and live more in peace and quietness, than those who call not upon thee; who lie down and rise up like the herd of the stall, never saying, Where is God the Maker!

Continue, we beseech thee, if it seemeth good to thee, the voice of health and strength amongst us, and the favour of thy prosperous providence; but give us grace to expect and to be ready for a change. And, as in a day, nay, in an hour, our prosperity may be turned by thee into deep affliction, our health into pining sickness, our ease into tormenting pain, and our life into death. O Lord God, establish us in Christ Jesus, and give the earnest of thy spirit in our hearts, that, whatever we are called to suffer, we may not be afraid with any amazement, but bear our cross cheerfully, to the edification of those around us.

Comfort and protect continually all our near relations and dear friends. Sanctify to them their present circumstances whatever they are. May they mind the things of the Spirit, and never be deluded by things of time and sense. Be their guide through life, and at death give them admission into thy kingdom and glory.

Promote, O God, the peace and welfare of this our country. Let thy servant, our most gracious King, be continually, guided by thy counsel, and reign over us in righteousness. May he and his Ministers with unwearied labour, seek to promote thy glory and his people’s good.

Free and relieve all who are distressed or oppressed; regard their hearts, bear their sighs and make them to see their sin in their suffering, to humble themselves under thy hand, and find that it is good for them to be afflicted. Bless our enemies; do good to them who hate us; and ever enable us to return good-will for evil.

Accept our praises for our continued preservation by thy goodness, who has first brought us into being; for sleep upon our beds, for the return of the day after the shades of darkness, for the use of our reason, the comfort of this opportunity of worshipping thy name, and above all, for the light of life, the Son of Righteousness, Christ Jesus; for whom, with all that is within us, we should bless thy name; in whom we command ourselves and our services to thee; and to whom, with thyself and the Holy Ghost, one God over all, be all honour and praise, love and obedience, for evermore.

Our Father which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.

A FAMILY EVENING PRAYER.

Blessed and holy Lord God, who didst make all things by thy power, who rulest all things by thy providence, and fillest all things by thy presence, we, thy unworthy creatures, beseech thee to fill our hearts with an awful sense of thee, and with humility, sincerity, and faith in Christ in our approaches to thee.

We thankfully acknowledge our absolute dependence upon thee; for our lives, and all the comforts of them, we are indebted to thy bounty. Thy hands have fashioned us in the womb, brought us into this world, and ever since we saw the light, filled us with variety of good. We adore thy sparing mercy. Justly mightest thou have brought upon us all the curses written in the book of thy law against thy transgressors: and had thy ways been as our ways, and thy thoughts like our thoughts towards our enemies, we had long since been past the power of offering to thee our thanks and praise, beyond the benefit of prayer, or the hope of pardon.

We confess, O Lord, we have been transgressors of thy law, in thought, word, and deed. We are chargeable with the workings and defilements of pride and hypocrisy, of uncharitableness and sensuality of self-love, and worldliness of heart, notwithstanding all the methods thou hast taken to heal these diseases of our souls. We have sinned against the clear revelation of thy will, and the strongest obligations binding us to comply with it. We have sinned against thy most inviting promises, and thy most dreadful threatenings: against the frequent warnings of thy Word, the renewed motions and powerful convictions of thy Spirit, and the precious blood of Christ. We have sinned against the light of our understanding, against promises and purposes of obedience, and against the strongest remonstrances of our own conscienses.

O God, we cannot recount the number of our sins, nor fully set in order all their aggravations. We should not therefore presume to ask for thy pardoning mercy, if we do not trust that thy Spirit has created within us a holy mourning for all our wickedness, and for that corruption of our nature, from whence as their fountain, all these poisonous streams have flowed. O humble us effectually, and place before us all the detestable qualities which meet together in every act of sin, that injustice and contempt towards thee, that rebellion and ingratitude which prevail in it. And oh! most merciful Father, speak peace to our souls, weary and heavy laden with guilt, through the death and sufferings of thy dear Son, and for the sake of his precious sacrifice, avert the punishment from us. Increase in us the faith whereby we only can be justified, and have peace with thee, through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Accompany thy pardoning mercy with thy purifying grace. Help us, O Father, thou God of all power and might, to put of the old man, which is corrupt, according to the deceitful lusts, and to put on the new man which is created after thine own image, in righteousness and true holiness. Give us a new heart and put within us a new spirit. O grant us a mind weaned from the pomps and pleasures, the profits and honours, and all the transitory enjoyments of the flesh; but hungering and thirsting after righteousness. Prevent us by thy grace, that we may never more commit sin with the deceitful hope of gaining advantage by it. Impress us continually with the conviction, that the gaining of the whole world can be of no recompense for the loss of the soul.

O let that solemn account we must ere long give, when the throne shall be set, the books be opened, and the dead, small, and great, stand before God, influence the whole course of our lives; O let us so believe and so obey, that when Christ shall come in the clouds with power and great glory, we may then cry out in holy raptures. Lo, this is our God, we have waited for him, and he will save us! This is the Lord, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation!

In thy merciful protection, O God, we humbly commit ourselves, our dear friends and relations this night. The darkness is no darkness with thee, but the night is as clear as the day. Defend, we beseech thee, our persons, our dwellings, and our possessions. Refresh us with sweet sleep; and with the health and strength of our bodies, and the vigour of our minds, let us serve thee all our days, till through the gate of death we enter into that blessed kingdom, where there is no night; where we all receive the end of our faith, even the salvation of our souls, through Jesus Christ; in dependence upon whose righteousness and intercession we farther pray: Our Father, &c.

FOR THE LORD’S DAY MORNING.

Thanks be unto thee, O most merciful and gracious God, for having devoted this day to thy service. Never can we sufficiently express the obligations we owe thee for this stated season of rest from labour; for this delightful opportunity afforded us of imitating the heavenly host, whilst we assemble ourselves with one heart and voice to glorify thee, O God, our heavenly Father; and thee O Christ, our Advocate, Righteousness, and Life; and thee, O eternal Spirit, the Comforter and Sanctifier of the Church of God.

We praise thee, who instead of loathing our persons for our sinful pride and stubborn forgetfulness of thee, hast taken the most effectual methods to teach us the knowledge and plant in us the love of thy name. We praise thee that thou hast commanded us to make, on this day, public confession of our guilt, and of thy hatred of sin; of our disobedience and the riches of thy forbearance towards us; of our weakness, depravity, and need of thy perpetual grace to help us. We praise thee for commanding us to make public intercession for all sorts and conditions of men, in order that our hearts may be the more enlarged towards them, and our hands the more ready to minister to their necessities. We praise thee for this opportunity of hearing thy holy scripture, which is profitable for our reproof, for our correction, and for our instruction in righteousness.

We bless thee that we have our habitation fixed in the land of liberty, under the bright beams of thy glorious gospel; that we can worship thee according to our conscience, no one making us afraid; that we are not required to pay adoration to those who by nature are not gods, nor compelled to bow down at the altar of idols. We praise thee that we are in health and strength to use the sacred opportunity of going with the multitude that keep thy holy day, into the house where thou hast recorded thy name, and promised to meet and bless us. How amiable are thy dwellings, O Lord of hosts; one day employed in them is better than a thousand engrossed by the business of the world.

We praise thee also for passing by all the provocations and insults which we have offered unto thee by abusing and profaning this holy day, by our detestable presumption in compassing thee about with deceit and lies. O how often have we rushed into the courts of thy house without meditation, without prayer, without any desire to worship thee with an holy worship! how often have we dissembled and pretend to give thee glory, when we were yet living in our sins, making thee angry with us every day, and casting thy law behind us!

O, our God, let the time past suffice for us to have entered into thy courts thoughtless and unhumbled, self-satisfied, and self-sufficient. Now teach us effectually to reverence thy sanctuary: make us feel awful conceptions of the God with whom we have to do, and of the infinite importance of the holy exercises in which we are going to engage. Thou knowest our souls cleave to the very dust of the ground. O send thy quickening Spirit to raise our thoughts and desires up to thee in every part of thy holy worship. Shield us on every side from the flesh, the world, and the devil, that they may have no power to fill us with sinful distractions, and make us absent in spirit while we are presenting our bodies in thy temple.

While we confess our guilt, open thou our understanding, we beseech thee, that we may understand all the aggravations of our wickedness. Call back to remembrance whatever at any time has made us appear most vile in our own eyes, that we may now feel a godly sorrow, and be really ashamed and confounded at the sight of our iniquity.—Accompany, we beseech thee, the reading of thy most holy word with the power of thy own Spirit, that so the practice of thy saints, and thy peculiar favour towards them, may stir us up to be diligent followers of their examples: that we may receive the strong consolation from thy promises, which in Christ Jesus are all sure and infallibly certain, and, by hearing the gospel proclaimed, attain to clearer views of thy great salvation. When we are offering up our intercession to thee, give us to feel tenderness of heart, melting pity towards all our fellow creatures in distress, and very fervently desire that thou wouldst immediately appear for their relief. When we ask for mercy and forgiveness, strength and holiness of heart, may we ask with an earnestness suited to the value of these gifts, and with a strong conviction of our unavoidable misery, if our suit is rejected.

When we join in giving thanks unto thy name, O make all thy goodness to pass before us. Excite in us such a lively remembrance of the multitude of thy mercies towards us, as shall fill our souls as it were with marrow and fatness, whilst our mouths are praising thee with joyful lips.—From the beginning to the conclusion of the service of thy sanctuary, by the perpetual influence of thy free Spirit, do thou uphold us, that we may be satisfied with the pleasures of thy house, and offer to thee a pure offering in righteousness.

And, as thou, O Lord, hast ordained that the people should seek thy law at the mouth of thy ministers, do thou fill them with knowledge and sound doctrine; that they may preach not themselves, but Christ Jesus, the Lord. Under their instructions delivered according to thy will, may our ignorance be dispelled, our slothful hearts quickened, our fears removed, our hope encouraged, and our souls established in grace.

Finally, we beseech thee, O God, to incline our hearts to sanctify this whole day. Make it our delight to employ our time in reading thy word, in meditation and privacy, not yielding to the sinfulness of our hearts, or the custom of the world, in speaking our own words, in thinking our own thoughts, and finding our own pleasure on thy holy day. And grant us grace so to use this day of rest and of public worship in this life that we may none of us fail of having a part in the everlasting adoration, praise, and love of thy name in the life to come, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A FAMILY PRAYER ON THE EVENING OF THE LORD’S DAY.

O Lord, thou art great, wonderful, and holy. Thou art exalted far above all blessing and praise which can ever be afforded to thee by the angels of light; yet such is thy condescending mercy, that the door of thy house has been open this day to us, vile dust and miserable sinners. We have been waiting on thee in the ordinances of thy own appointment; and as we implore the comfort and help of thy spirit before we present ourselves in thy courts, so now, as becometh us in bounded duty, we desire to return thee our most hearty thanks and praise, if we have found any deliverance from the hardness, unbelief, distraction, and deceitfulness of our depraved hearts, whilst we were offering our vows unto thee.

Not unto us, but to the influence of thy Spirit be the praise, if we have confessed our sins this day with any self-loathing, and being melted into contrition for our offences; if the forbearance thou hast shown towards us, and thy tender pity in sparing us though so richly deserving damnation, have been sensible to our hearts, whilst we were accusing ourselves before thee. We praise thee if we have sanctified this day, and our holy services in it, to the honour of our Lord Jesus Christ, by looking only to the virtue of his atonement for the remission of our sins. We bless thee if we have found thy word sweet unto us, and the increasing discovery of thy love delightful to our hearts; if we have been filled with faith, and experience in our hearts the Spirit of Grace, of prayer and supplication; so that instead of saying, When will the Sabbath be gone, that we may buy and sell and get gain? we have found the spiritual provisions of thy house a feast indeed to our souls. We thank thee if thy word preached hath searched us, making any hidden corruption; if it has been for our edification, exhortation, and comfort in Christ Jesus. We thank thee, if it has been a pleasant and joyful thing to us to be thankful, to speak good of thy name, and to declare thy goodness towards the children of men.

Lord, increase and stir up within us evermore devote affections when we call upon thee: and in whatsoever we have displeased thee this day, O do thou pardon us. Overlook what has been wanting, forgive what has been amiss, though we are too blind ourselves to perceive it. There is iniquity in our most holy offering. Purge away, we beseech thee, the defilement of them in the fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness. Accept our devotions at the hands of our faithful and merciful High-priest, and may our sacrifices be perfumed with the sweet incense of his merits.

For his sake fulfil all the requests we have this day made known unto thee. O give us strength and power to live more according to thy will, in all righteousness and holiness. Let the benefit and success of our public worship be manifested in our whole deportment; and the influence of the good impressions made upon us in thy house, appear in our sincere love both to God and man, in our abhoring all that is evil, and cleaving to that which is good. Let every heavenly and Christian temper we have this day requested shine in our conversation, and our lives be a transcript of the graces we ask in our prayers. May we return again to our respective employments armed with the whole armour of God, and determined in nothing wilfully to offend thee. May thy praise and love, thy power and glory, and the mightiness of thy kingdom, be much in our thoughts, till at length we are brought to that everlasting sabbath where we shall no more need the use of these means; no more behold thee our God at a distance, and through ordinances darkly, but see thee face to face, and know thee even as we are known.

We desire now particularly to recommend to thy mercy all who are united to us by the ties of kindred or special friendship. Let none of them slightly estimate this holy day, or blindly think it enough to be merely present at the assemblies of thy people. May they ever worship thee in spirit and truth, and esteem this day their delight.

We beg thy mercy upon all those nations which yet sit in darkness and the shadow of death, that the Sun of Righteousness may arise upon them to guide their feet into the way of peace. O hasten the time, when all thou hast promised concerning the church in the last days shall be accomplished; bring in the fulness of the Gentiles, and let all Israel be saved. Revive and cause to flourish in all places upon earth pure and undefiled religion. Let the power of godliness prevail, and daily obtain victory over the formality and hypocrisy of mere nominal Christians.

Particularly we recommend to thy protection and tenderest care, the kingdom in which we dwell. We entreat thee to direct, sanctify, and govern the heart of our Sovereign Lord, the King. Prosper all his counsels for the good of his subjects. May he live dear to thee, beloved of his people, and receive at thy hands, after death, a crown of glory. Bless the Royal Family, and all that are in authority over us.

Take us this night, O our God, under thy protection. Watch over us whilst we sleep; if we wake in the night season, may our meditation of thee be sweet and our souls be glad in the Lord. If we are spared to see the light of the returning day, may we rise from our beds to give all diligence to walk before thee to all well-pleasing.—And whether we wake or sleep, live or die, may we be the Lord’s. To him, with thee, O Father, and the Holy Ghost, be ascribed, as most due, everlasting praise, might, majesty, and dominion.

A PRAYER TO BE USED WHEN ANY MEMBER OF THE FAMILY IS SICK.

Either entire as a Morning or evening Prayer for the Family or occasionally with some of the Family, or in part, paragraphs, selected from it being added to the usual family devotions.

O thou infinitely great and glorious God, thou killest and makest alive. Thou woundest and thy hands make whole. Thou bringest down to the grave, and bringest back again. Thou dost according to thy will in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth; and none can stay thine hand or say unto thee, What dost thou? yet righteous art thou in all thy ways, and holy in all thy works. Even when thou afflictest, and causest trouble and heaviness to fall upon us, it is that we may learn righteousness from thy judgments, and receive profit from thy correction.

Wherefore, though thou hast not visited our house with sickness, and art calling us to humiliation for our sins, yet we would still speak good of thy name, and love and bless thee. We desire at this season to remember all the past mercies with which thou hast been pleased to bless us and our household. God forbid that our present grief should make us unmindful of the constant benefits we have enjoyed. How long has each of our family lain down and risen up, gone out and come in, in health, strength, and peace? How long has the candle of the Lord shone upon us without intermission? For these multiplied favours, blessed, O Lord, be thy good and holy name; since the smallest of benefits is more than we deserve, and the sharpest affliction less.

To us, on account of transgressions, is most justly due, indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish. Wherefore then should living men complain, men and transgressors, for the punishment of their sin? Shall we receive so much good at the hand of the Lord, and shall we not receive evil? patiently and contentedly receive evil also; this temper we know, O Lord, is our bounding duty; O form it in us. And as in great compassion to us, thou hast opened a way of relief for us under every trouble, by directing, commanding, and encouraging us in all our afflictions to pour out our complaints unto thee, and tell thee of all we fear and feel; to thee, O Father of mercies, do we make our supplications at this time. O Lord be not far from us.

In entire submission to thy most wise and holy will, we do now most earnestly pray for that person whose sickness fills us with so much concern. O look upon him (or her) in his low estate; suffer not we beseech thee, his disorder to proceed, and let not his sickness be unto death, but be for the manifestation of thy grace towards us all. Thou knowest, Lord, his frame; lay no more upon him than thou wilt enable him to bear with patience and quietness of mind. And O, thou great Physician, without whom all others are of no value, do thou direct to the most proper medecines, and bless the art of healing to his body, and our great comfort. In thy due time restore thy servant to health and strength again, that he may have a longer day of grace and salvation, prove more useful, and do more good in his generation.

In the meantime, however, thou shalt think fit to dispose of him, O sanctify unto him this affliction; work in him deep humiliation for his sin; bless him with repentance unto life; enable him by faith to behold the Lamb of God, and to trust in the fountain opened in his blood for the remission of sins, that, being justified through faith, he may have peace with God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Make all his bed in his sickness, and let patience have its perfect work in his soul. Raise him up to praise thy name, to pay those vows he makes in trouble before the assembly of thy saints, and to walk in newness of life. But if thou dost not see fit to spare thy servant, whom we are now remembering before thee, O prepare every one of this family according to our several relations, for the awful stroke. With respect to himself, if the time of his departure draweth nigh, O let his heart be comforted by the promises in Christ, and taste that thou art gracious unto him. May his soul be safe and happy at the hour of death; and in the great day of the Lord Jesus Christ may be found among those who died for him.

And help us all, who are now in health, to improve this loud and solemn call to prepare for our own sickness and disease. Let us not abuse our bodily strength to encourage ourselves in sinful security and impenitence. Grant that we may always be ready, by performing the will of our Lord, that whensoever he shall come, we may be found of him in peace and enter into his joy; that whenever our health is turned into sickness, and our strength into weakness, and our ease into sharp pain, we may not be cast down or perplexed, but feel in our souls those supports and consolations, which the world cannot give, nor death itself take away.

Hear us, O Lord our God, in these our humble requests; forgive us our sins; and accept our persons and our services, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A THANKSGIVING FOR THE RECOVERY OF A SICK MEMBER.

Most gracious and holy, good and merciful God! we have heard, we have seen, we have experienced thy love. Blessed, for ever blessed be thy name, that instead of being known to us by the judgments our sins have deserved, thou art manifested to us as the God willing to forgive all our iniquities. Thou hast delivered our eyes from tears, and our hearts from anguish. Thy servant, whom thou hast lately afflicted, is now a monument of thy sparing mercy. Thou hast chastised and corrected him, (or her) but thou hast not delivered him over unto death. Thou hast turned our mourning into joy, and our fears into songs of praise.

O may this thy servant have been spared in order to live hereafter to the glory of thy name.—We beseech thee, perfect all that concerns his recovery; and grant that this gracious interposition may properly effect both him and every one of us in this family. From henceforth may we all more entirely depend upon thee for the continuance and preservation of our dearest earthly comforts: may we consider them as thy free gifts, O Lord, and know that they alone makest every earthly blessing be to us what it is.

And give us grace so to use and enjoy all our temporal comforts, as those who know that the fashion of this world passeth away. Grant we may learn, from this late affliction in our family, to live more like persons who are soon to be separated by death, and to give all diligence to grow rich towards God, that we may be better prepared for a breach in our family whenever it shall come. And whensoever, O God, thou shalt be pleased to call any of us away, though for a season our family may thus be separated, may we all be united again in heaven, and be for ever with the Lord and with one another.

That we may none of us fall short of so glorious an end, O give us a clear knowledge of the excellency of our God, and a firmer dependence upon the word of thy grace. Grant us a strong love to the Lord Jesus Christ, and a greater resemblance of him; that each of us in our particular station may be zealous for God, full of mercy and justice towards men, and possess every temper whereby God can be glorified in us.

Fill our minds with a more cheerful and lively sense of our obligations to thee, especially for this late additional mercy: write it, we beseech thee, on our hearts, so that no temptation from without, or corruption from within, may make us ever act as if we forgot it.

And now, O Lord, we again present both ourselves and family, all we have and all we are, a lively sacrifice unto thee for all our remaining days. Be with us when we are passing through the valley of the shadow of death; may we then fear no evil, nor have cause to fear any. Guard us through the gloomy passage, and bring us safe to thine eternal kingdom and glory. We humbly ask all these blessings, though utterly unworthy ourselves of any notice, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, who ever liveth to make intercession for us. Amen.

FOR THE DUE DISCHARGE OF DOMESTIC DUTIES.

O Lord and heavenly Father, who has commanded us concientiously to discharge each duty we owe one to another, take away, we beseech thee, from us all stubbornness, pride, and self-conceit; all envy, hatred, and ill-will, which would lead us to despise thy gracious restraints, and destroy that harmony which thou wouldest have to reign in every family. From the least to the greatest member of each house, give them grace to walk before thee unto all well-pleasing.

Teach and incline servants to do their work with singleness of eye, as unto Christ: to be ambitious of serving their masters with all fidelity, and of preventing all just cause of anger or rebuke from them for obstinacy, sloth, or carelessness. Grant them wisdom to consider their station not as any hardship, much less any disgrace to them, but as the post which thy fatherly love hath appointed them to fill. Give them to understand, to their great peace and strong consolation, that by doing their work from a principle of faith and love to Christ Jesus, they may stand as high in thy favour, and grow as rich towards God, as if their condition entitled them to all respect from the world. And may they never imagine they are religious and Christians altogether, any longer than they abstain from all those frauds and deceits which they are tempted to use for filthy lucre’s sake.

Be merciful and gracious, O God, to all heads and governors of families. Save them from haughtiness of carriage, from passionate reproaches, and every kindred unchristian treatment of their inferiors and dependents. O! convince the rich that it is not their merit, but thy providence alone that makes the difference of station, and appoints the subordination: not that they should be as tyrants in their houses, and imperious to their servants, but that they should add to the comfort of those who are under them. Enable them, therefore, carefully to avoid hurting those who labour for them, by their forwardness and behaving towards them with such rudeness, as they would be ashamed to shew to any equal. Imprint upon their minds a lively remembrance that they have a master in heaven, who is no respecter of the persons of men, before whom both masters and servants must give a strict and solemn account of their behaviour to each other. Inspire all who preside in families not only with justice, but with mercy and piety towards their servants. Like the good centurion, whose praise is in the gospel, may they sympathize with them in all their afflictions, be glad to alleviate their burden, when sickness and old age oppress them, and to sweeten the bitter cup that is appointed them to drink. Give them grace to teach their servants the fear of the Lord by their own example, and to let their light so shine before them, that they may be led to glorify God also, in whose hands is their breath, and whose are all their ways.

Dispose, O Lord, the hearts of all parents to receive and obey the commands addressed in a peculiar manner to them. Teach them always to regard their children as immortal souls intrusted to their care, and for whose nurture and admonition in the fear of the Lord they are strictly answerable; and may they esteem it their greatest pleasure, and their highest honour, to be teaching their children the sacred truth, when they sit with them in the house, and when they walk by the way, when they lie down, and when they rise up. Give them to observe with hearts sensibly affected, the natural depravity too apparent in every one of their offsprings, and to be solicitous to bring them by early discipline and instruction to him who alone can deliver from it. Make them vigilant to check the first sallies of their vile affections, to furnish them with the means of knowing God and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent, and to habituate them from their childhood to some profitable employment of their time, and their understanding, as they are able to bear it. Keep all parents from setting a bad example before the eyes of their children, and so teaching them an evil lesson against themselves. And may they dread nothing more than the insupportable doom of being condemned as accessaries to the damnation of their own children by their worldliness, sensuality and neglect of their souls. And as thou knowest that no parents are of themselves sufficient to educate their children according to thy will, O! do thou fill them with wisdom and discretion. Guide them continually with thine eye, between the extremes of shewing a false indulgence or an irksome severity to the fruit of their own bodies. Bless altogether the relation thou hast established between them, so that parents may have the joy of seeing their children growing up as pleasant plants before thee, and children have reason to rise up and call their parents blessed, and to praise God for them in time and in eternity.

And thou, O God, so influence and form the minds of all children, and turn their hearts towards their parents, that they may behave towards them with all reverence, obedience and love; not stubborn when corrected for their faults, not heedless when instructed, not ungrateful to forget how much they are bound to administer to the comfort of their parents and to requit them.

In an especial manner we beg of thee, O God, that we of this family, who are now kneeling before thee may be forgiven for Christ’s sake, all the instances of which we have been guilty, of irreverence, unkindness, and passion one towards another. Make us sensible of our transgressions, heartily sorry for them, and more vigilant for the future. O give unto us, and every family, more of thy grace and power, that we may be of one mind, who dwell together in one house on earth; that at the last day, when we appear to take our trial at the bar of God, we may not be accusers of each other, for exercising any malevolence of temper, but witnesses of the grace of our common Lord in making us dwell together in perfect amity and Christian Love. Grant, O God, these our petitions, and let us all perceive the accomplishment of them by the increase of harmony, peace, and love amongst ourselves. We ask it for the sake, and through the intercession of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.

UPON THE OCCASION OF A DEATH OR FUNERAL.

May all the appointments of thy providence, O Lord, be profitable to the souls of thy people. Visit the members of this house of mourning with thy favour, and let them know and feel, that thou art an all-sufficient help, in time of trouble. Knowing that we have no continuance in this life, but pass our days, as a tale, which has been told, may we act a wise and a worthy part, that we may find peace to our souls, in every time of review, and have good hopes in the prospect of the world to come.

Be as a Father to the fatherless, the protector of the widow, and the orphan’s stay. Bless those who are intimately, and feelingly connected, with the present dispensation of thy providence, and according to the circumstances of their lot, grant them consolation. As the depth and the length of their sorrows have been, so do thou comfort them and wipe away their tears. By the sadness of the countenance may the affections become better, and the conduct improved, that the heart may be spiritually glad. Give them an interest in the blessings of redeeming love, and let the assurance of everlasting life pour joy into their afflicted souls. Forgive, O Lord, the manifold transgressions of those who mourn, and the multiplied sins of all thy children, and accept of us, and thy penitent people every where, according to thy mercies in Christ our Lord and Saviour.

FOR A SICK CHILD.

Almighty and most merciful Father, have compassion upon us in the day of trouble, and let this child live, by whose afflictions we are afflicted. Suffer not the hope of thy servants to be disappointed, but if death be in the cup, sanctify the dispensation, comfort the mourner, and receive the departing spirit into the fellowship of the saints on high. If life shall be prolonged, let gratitude prevail in the hearts of those, who are nearly connected, and let all diligence be given to train up the child, in the paths of wisdom and piety, and may every endeavour to promote a virtuous and holy life be successful, through Christ our Lord.

THE LORD’S PRAYER.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us day by day our daily bread; forgive us our tresspasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil; for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory for ever. Amen.

GRACES FOR YOUNG PERSONS.

If said by an Individual, the Singular must be used instead of the Plural.

BEFORE MEAT.

The eyes of all things wait upon thee, O Lord, and thou givest them their food in due season. Enable us to receive all thy blessings with becoming affections of mind; and sanctify the present instance of thy bounty through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

OR THUS:

Thy mercies, O Lord, are renewed unto us day by day, though by our sinfulness and disobedience, we are unworthy of thy favour. But do thou forgive our manifold transgressions, sanctify us in all our undertakings, and bless the offered mercies, through Christ our Lord and Saviour. Amen.

AFTER MEAT.

We thank thee, O Lord, for the continued bounty of thy providence, and while our bodies are strengthened by their daily food, cherish our souls by thy heavenly grace. Forgive, we beseech thee, our numerous sins, and accept of our acknowledgments for this and every instance of thy goodness, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

OR THUS:

We give thee praise, O Lord, for all the blessings of this life, and for the hopes of future glory. Accept of our thanks for every mercy we receive, and to thy name, through Christ the Lord, be ascribed the praise, now and for ever. Amen.

THE

NEW PICTORIAL

BIBLE.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

1

The Creation of Light.

G EN. i. 1-3.

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep: and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, let there be light: and there was light.

2

The Division of the Waters.

G EN. i. 6, 7.

And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament; and it was so.

3

Woman formed.

G EN. ii. 22, 23, 25.

And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man. And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of man. And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed.

4

Adam naming the creatures.

G EN. ii. 19, 20.

And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air, and brought them unto Adam, to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field.

5

The serpent deceiveth Eve.

G EN. iii. 4, 6.

And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die. And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof and did eat; and gave also unto her husband with her, and he did eat.

6

Adam and Eve driven from the garden.

G EN. iii. 23, 24.

Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken. So he drove out the man: and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden cherubims and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.

7

Noah entering the ark.

G EN. vii. 7-10.

And Noah went in, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons’ wives with him, into the ark, because of the waters of the flood. Of clean beasts, and of beasts that are not clean, and of fowls, and of every thing that creepeth upon the earth. There went in two and two unto Noah into the ark, the male and the female, as God had commanded Noah.

8

Babel built.

G EN. xi. 4, 8.

And they said, Go to, let us build us a city, and a tower whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city.

9

Lot and his Daughters leave Sodom.

G EN. xix. 15, 30.

And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Lot saying, Arise, take thy wife and thy two daughters, which are here, lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city. And Lot went up out of Zoar, and dwelt in the mountain, and his two daughters with him; for he feared to dwell in Zoar: and he dwelt in a cave, he and his two daughters.

10

Abraham offereth Isaac.

G EN. xxii. 10-12.

And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham. And he said, Here am I. And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou anything unto him; for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me.

11

Joseph is cast into the pit.

G EN. xxxvii. 23, 24.

And it came to pass, when Joseph was come unto his brethren, that they stripped Joseph out of his coat, his coat of many colours, that was on him. And they took him, and cast him into a pit; and the pit was empty, and there was no water to it.

12

Joseph tempted by Potaphar’s Wife.

G EN. xxxix. 7, 10, 12.

And it came to pass after these things, that his master’s wife cast her eyes upon Joseph; and she said, Lie with me. And it came to pass, as she spake to Joseph day by day, that he hearkened not unto her, to lie with her, or to be with her. And she caught him by his garment, saying, Lie with me: and he left his garment in her hand, and fled, and got him out.

13

The finding of Moses.

E XOD. ii. 5, 6.

And the daughter of Pharaoh came down to wash herself at the river; and her maidens walked along by the river’s side: and when she saw the ark among the flags, she sent her maid to fetch it. And when she had opened it, she saw the child: and, behold, the babe wept. And she had compassion on him, and said, This is one of the Hebrew’s children.

14

Moses smiteth the rock.

E XOD. xvii. 5, 6.

And the Lord said unto Moses, Go on before the people, and take with thee of the elders of Israel; and thy rod, wherewith thou smotest the river, take in thine hand, and go. Behold, I will stand before thee there upon the rock in Horeb; and thou shalt smite the rock, and there shall come water out of it, that the people may drink. And Moses did so in the sight of the elders of Israel.

15

Moses receiveth the Tables.

E XOD. xxxiv. 1, 4.

And the Lord said unto Moses, Hew thee two tables of stone like unto the first; and I will write upon these tables the words that were in the first tables, which thou brakest. And he hewed two tables of stone, like unto the first: and Moses rose up early in the morning, and went up into Mount Sinai, as the Lord had commanded him, and took in his hand the two tables of stone.

16

Jericho compassed.

J OSH. vi. 12, 13.

And Joshua rose early in the morning, and the priests took up the ark of the Lord. And seven priests, bearing seven trumpets of rams’ horns before the ark of the Lord, went on continually, and blew with the trumpets: and the armed men went before them; but the reward came after the ark of the Lord, the priests going on, and blowing with the trumpets.

17

The sun and moon stand still.

J OSH. x. 12, 13.

Then spake Joshua to the Lord, in the day when the Lord delivered up the Amorites before the children of Israel, and he said in the sight of Israel, Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon. And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies.

18

Samson’s Death.

J UDGES xvi. 29, 30.

And Samson took hold of the two middle pillars upon which the house stood, and on which it was borne up, of the one with his right hand, and of the other with his left. And Samson said, Let me die with the Philistines. And he bowed himself with all his might; and the house fell upon the lords, and upon all the people that were within.

19

David Killeth Goliath.

1 S AM. xvii. 49, 51.

And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slung it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. Therefore David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and took his sword, and drew it out of the sheath thereof, and slew him, and cut off his head therewith.

20

Absalom caught up in the oak.

2 S AM. xviii. 9.

And Absalom rode upon a mule, and the mule went under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head caught hold of the oak, and he was taken up between the heaven and the earth; and the mule that was under him went away.

21

Solomon’s Judgement.

1 K INGS iii. 25, 26.

And the King said, Divide the living child in two, and give half to the one, and half to the other. Then spake the woman whose the living child was unto the king, (for her bowels yearned upon her son,) and she said, O my lord, give her the living child, and in no wise slay it: but the other said, Let it be neither mine nor thine, but divide it.

22

Solomon’s Temple.

1 K INGS vi. 2, 3.

And the house which king Solomon built for the Lord, the length thereof was threescore cubits, and the breadth thereof twenty cubits, and the height thereof thirty cubits. And the porch before the temple of the house, twenty cubits was the length thereof, according to the breadth of the house; and ten cubits was the breadth thereof before the house.

23

Elijah fed by ravens.

1 K INGS xvii. 3, 4, 6.

Get thee hence, and turn thee eastward, and hide thyself by the brook Cherith, that is before Jordan. And it shall be, that thou shalt drink of the brook; and I have commanded the ravens to feed thee there. And the ravens brought him bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening; and he drank of the brook.

24

The Assyrians Overthrown.

1 K INGS xx. 20, 21.

And they slew every one his man: and the Syrians fled, and Israel pursued them; and Ben-hadad the king of Syria escaped on a horse with the horsemen. And the king of Israel went out, and smote the horses and chariots, and slew the Syrians with a great slaughter.

25

Elijah is taken up into heaven.

2 K INGS ii. 11, 12.

And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that behold there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both assunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. And Elisha saw it, and he cried, My father, my father! the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof.

26

Jezebel eaten by dogs.

2 K INGS ix. 35, 36.

And they went to bury Jezebel; but they found no more of her than the scull, and the feet, and the palms of her hands. Wherefore they came again, and told him; and he said, This is the word of the Lord, which he spake by his servant Elijah the Tishbite, saying, In the portion of Jezreel shall dogs, eat the flesh of Jezebel.

27

Belshazzar’s Feast.

D AN. v. 3-5.

The king and his princes, his wives and his concubines, drank wine, and praised the gods of gold, and of silver, of brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone. In the same hour came forth fingers of a man’s hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall of the king’s palace; and the king saw the part of a hand that wrote.

28

Daniel cast into the den of lions.

D AN. vi. 21, 22, 23.

Then said Daniel unto the king, O king, live for ever. My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions’ mouths, that they have not hurt me: forasmuch as before him innocency was found in me; and also before thee, O king, have I done no hurt. Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den.

29

Jonah is swallowed by a fish.

J ONAH i. 17. ii. 10.

Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights. And the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land.

30

The Salutation.

L UKE i. 30, 31, 32.

And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David.

31

Wise men enquire after Christ.

M ATT. ii. 11, 12.

And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way.

32

The baptism of Jesus.

L UKE iii. 21, 22.

Now when all the people were baptised, it came to pass, that Jesus also being baptised, and praying, the heaven was opened, And the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape, like a dove, upon him; and a voice came from heaven, which said, Thou art my beloved Son; in thee I am well pleased.

33

John Baptist Beheaded.

M ATT. xiv. 6, 7, 8.

But when Herod’s birth-day was kept, the daughter of Herodias danced before them, and pleased Herod. Whereupon he promised with an oath to give her whatsoever she would ask. And she, being before instructed of her mother, said, Give me John Baptist’s head in a charger.

34

The Good Samaritan.

L UKE x. 33, 34.

A certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

35

Christ’s sermon on the mount.

M ATT. v. 1, 2, 3, 4.

And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him: And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying, Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted, &c. &c.

36

The Tempest

M ARK iv. 37, 38, 39.

And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full. And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow; and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish? And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and he said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.

37

Christ healeth a bloody issue.

L UKE viii. 47, 48.

And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she came trembling, and, falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately. And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.

38

The prodigal son.

L UKE xv. 21, 22, 23.

And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat and be merry.

39

The Parable of Lazarus

L UKE xvi. 20, 21, 22.

And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores. And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table: moreover, the dogs came and licked his sores. And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom.

40

The Last Supper.

M ATT. xxvi. 26, 27, 28.

And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them saying, Drink ye all of it: For this is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.

41

Jesus is accused before Pilate.

L UKE xxiii. 1, 2, 3.

And the whole multitude of them arose, and led him unto Pilate. And they began to accuse him, saying, We found this follow perverting the nation, and forbidding to give tribute to Cesar, saying that he himself is Christ a King. And Pilate asked him, saying, Art thou the King of the Jews? And he answered him and said, Thou sayest it.

42

The Crucifixion.

M ARK xv. 24, 25, 26, 27.

And when they had crucified him, they parted his garments, casting lots upon them, what every man should take. And it was the third hour, and they crucified him. And the superscription of his accusation was written over, The King of the Jews. And with him they crucify two thieves; the one on his right hand, and the other on his left.

43

The Ascension.

L UKE xxiv. 50, 51, 52.

And he led them out as far as to Bethany; and he lifted up his hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and carried up into heaven. And they worshipped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy.

44

The Apostles speak divers languages.

A CTS ii. 2, 3, 4.

And suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house, where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues, like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.

45

Saul called to the Apostleship.

A CTS ix. 3, 4, 5.

And as he journeyed, he came near Damascus; and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven. And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? And he said, Who art thou, Lord? And the Lord said, I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest. It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.

46

The Last Day.

M ATT. xxv. 31, 32, 33.

When the Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory: And before him shall be gathered all nations; and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats: And he shall put the sheep on his right hand, and the goats on his left.

THE HISTORY

OF

ABRAHAM, ISAAC, & JACOB,

EMBELLISHED WITH CUTS;

TO WHICH IS ADDED

AN ACCOUNT OF JONAH’S MISSION

TO THE

NINEVITES.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

Sarah promised a Son.

Hagar being returned to Abram’s house, soon bore a son, who was called Ishmael. Thirteen years after, God appeared to Abraham to renew his covenant, and instituted circumcision as a token of the covenant, and promised him a son who should be the father of many kings. Abraham laughed to think that Sarah, ninety years old, should bear. A while after, as Abraham was sitting in the tent door he saw three men coming, and as his charity suffered none to pass without a refreshment, he ran to meet them. After they had eaten, they asked for Sarah, when the men, (who were angels) assured him that she would bear a son. Sarah overheard what was said, and laughed within herself, saying, After I am waxed old, shall I have pleasure—my Lord being old also. The angels reproved Sarah for laughing, which she denied: they stated nothing was too hard for the Lord. They then rose up, and Abraham with them went on their way.

Lot entertains two Angels at Sodom.

After God’s promise to Abraham, that Sarah would shortly bear him a son, he was warned that Sodom was to be destroyed. Lot, seeing two angels coming to Sodom, ran to meet them, and entreated them to lodge with him. The angels at first refused, but Lot earnestly pressed them to come in. The men of Sodom surrounded the house, and demanded of Lot to deliver up the men, that they might satisfy their lust with them. He resisted them with all his powers, but still they insisted. Lot, pierced with sorrow, was on the point of delivering them up, had not the angels put forth their hand, and pulled him in; and having shut the door, they smote the men that were without with blindness: yet with all this it reclaimed not their fury; for they still sought to satisfy themselves, and they laboured hard to find the door to effect their purpose.

Lot and his Two Daughters.

The angel having warned Lot of his danger of remaining among the Sodomites, hastened him to depart from the city with his wife and two daughters, that they might not be consumed. They laid hold of him by the hand, ordering him to escape, and not to look behind him. Lot requested leave of the angels to retire to Zoar; and he had no sooner entered Zoar, than the Lord rained fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah from heaven. Lot’s wife, alarmed at a sudden noise, looking back, became a pillar of salt. Lot, affrighted, went up and dwelt in a mountain, his two daughters imagining that they and their father were the only remains of the inhabitants of the earth, thought it their duty not to suffer the generation of men to perish, made their father drink wine, and did not stop to commit incest in hopes of being mothers; and though we cannot think on that action without horror, yet their innocence did much lessen the guilt of it.

Abimelech afflicted by God.

Abraham being obliged, soon after the overthrow of Sodom, to quit his former abode, came to Gerar, where he was exposed to some danger by the king of that city, on account of his wife, as he had been by the king of Egypt. Abimelech, king of Gerar, sent and took Sarah, who called herself Abraham’s sister, as she had done in Egypt. But God, who was the protector of Sarah’s chastity, threatened that prince in the night-time, telling him he was a dead man if he offered to touch Sarah, for she was Abraham’s wife. Abimelech was horror-struck at having nearly committed so great a crime, and terrified by the threats of God, called all his officers and servants together, as also Abraham, and reproved him sharply for concealing the truth, to make him and his kingdom guilty of so great a sin. Abraham replied, that they were both of one father but different mothers.

Hagar and Ishmael cast out.

God fulfilled his promise to Sarah, and she brought forth a son in her old age. Abraham called him Isaac, and circumcised him the eight day. Sarah suckled him herself, though a great princess; and when the time of weaning Isaac was come, Abraham made a great feast to express his joy. In the mean time, while Sarah had so much reason to rejoice, Hagar’s son became cause of great trouble to her. This lad, disappointed in his hopes by the birth of Isaac, could not endure to see his father and mother delight so much in him, and began to behave himself abusively towards him. Sarah foresaw the fatal consequences of this hatred, and entreated Abraham to cast out the bond-woman and her son. This request greatly afflicted Abraham, but God advised him to do as Sarah had said. They were forthwith cast out; but an angel appeared and spoke comfortably to them in the wilderness, assuring her, her son would be the father of a great nation.

Abraham offereth up Isaac.

Isaac being now arrived at the age of twenty-seven, God, to try Abraham, commands him to take his son, whom he loved, and offer him up upon a mountain. He remembered he had received his son from God, and his great faith stifled all the thoughts which did arise in him about the divine promises so often repeated to him, that from the very Isaac whom he was now about to offer, his posterity should be multiplied as the stars of heaven. Accordingly he rises early in the morning, and takes Isaac his son, and two servants, cleaves the wood for the burnt-offering, and binding Isaac his son, laid him on the altar, and stretching forth his hand, took the knife to slay him. God, seeing constancy in the father, stops his hand by an angel from heaven. Hereupon Abraham, seeing a ram caught in a thicket by the horns, offered him up to God instead of his son, and returned to his house.

The Death and Burial of Sarah.

Isaac being restored to his parents by the command of him who first bestowed him, he was the comfort of his mother in her old age, who, being arrived at the age of one hundred and twenty-seven years, died. Abraham having wept over her some time, considers of providing a burying place for her. He addresses the children of Heth, stating he was a stranger, and that he wished a burying place to bury the dead, out of his sight, which was kindly granted, requesting him to take choice of all their sepulchres. Abraham, who would not be beholden to any man, entreated them to sell him a field which had a double cave, but they wanted him to accept of it as a free gift, but Abraham was immoveable, and forced Ephron to tell him that the field was worth four hundred shekels of silver, which Abraham paid down, and there he buried Sarah.

Isaac’s Marriage with Rebekah.

Abraham being old, and thinking to take a wife for his son Isaac, resolves not to allow him to marry any of the daughters of the Canaanites; but despatches Eliezer his steward to Mesopotamia to take a wife for his son. Being come near the city of Nahor, he prayed that God would direct him to the person he had allotted to be his master’s son’s wife, by this token, that the damsel he should ask to draw water for himself and his camels, should do it frankly. Rebekah came, and Eliezer ran to meet her, and desired water to drink, which she readily gave him, and hasted to draw for his camels. This faithful servant, satisfied that she was the person, presents her with many presents, when she ran home to her brother, who instantly ran to meet Abraham’s servant, brought him home, and set down meat before him but would eat none till he got an answer to his business. A favourable answer being given, he prepared to return home.

Esau sells his Birthright to Jacob.

After the happy consummating of Isaac’s marriage with Rebekah, Abraham lived many years, till at length transported to that better and heavenly country; having spent one hundred and seventy-five years in the exercise of holy virtues and graces. God, after his death, multiplied his blessings on Isaac his son. But they had been twenty years married without having any children, when Isaac prayed the Lord for his wife’s sake for children, and he was heard, and Rebekah was delivered of male twins. The Divine oracle stated that the elder should serve the younger. When these two children were grown up, Jacob, the youngest, on a time sold lentil pottage, and Esau, returning from hunting, extremely hungry, with greediness desired this pottage; which Jacob perceiving, would not part with it till he had promised to sell him his birthright in consideration thereof, to which Esau agreed.

Isaac blesseth Jacob instead of Esau.

Esau having sold Jacob his birthright, Rebekah, who had a tender love for Jacob, ratified the right by a holy piece of craft. Isaac being sensible of his great age, and willing to bless his children ere he died, called Esau his eldest, whom he loved, to him, to hunt some venison, and make savoury meat that he might bless him. Rebekah told Jacob to fetch two kids, that she might make savoury meat to Isaac. She then dressed Jacob in Esau’s dress and put the skins of the kids upon his hands and smooth of his neck, that his father might suppose him to be Esau, which had the desired effect; for he received his father’s blessing by this deception. Scarcely had he made an end of blessing Jacob, when Esau came in from hunting, prepares his savoury meat, brings it to his father, and desires him to eat that he might bless him. The holy patriarch, perceiving the deception, trembled, and Esau cryed bitterly. Isaac, moved with his cries, blesseth him also, but subjects him to Jacob.

Jacob’s Mystical Ladder.

The anger of Esau against Jacob was too visible to be hid from Rebekah; and the tender love she had for Jacob caused her to send him away for a time, though grieved to let him out of her sight. To reconcile her husband Isaac to it, she spoke of his marriage—how grieving it would be if her son Jacob would marry any of the daughters of the land of Canaan, as Esau had done against their wish. Jacob was sent away, more like a fugitive than the son of a rich person. Being overtaken by night, he was obliged to take up his lodgings upon the earth, with no softer pillow than stone. Here he dreamed that he saw a ladder, the top of which reached to heaven, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon it. He was the Lord above it, who encouraged him to proceed on his journey, and promised that his seed should be as the dew of the earth, as in him should all nations of the earth be blessed.

Jacob serveth for Rachel and Leah.

Jacob assured by the vision of the Divine protection, went cheerfully on his way to Haran, and meeting some shepherds near a well, which had a great stone at the mouth thereof, asked them whither they knew one Laban, a grandchild of Nahor. They answered, yes; and that Rachel his daughter was coming thither with his sheep. Jacob no sooner saw her, then he went and rolled the stone from the mouth of the well, watered his sheep, kissed her, and made himself known to her. She ran with the tidings to her father, who came forth, kissed him, and brought him to his house. Jacob told him of his brother’s fury, stating that he wished to serve him; to which Laban agreed, that Jacob should serve him seven years for Rachel, which term he finished; but Leah was falsely put into Jacob’s bed, which displeased Jacob; but Laban appeased him by promising him Rachel at the end of other seven, which he also completed.

Jacob’s return to his birth-place.

The blessings that God so plentifully showered down upon Jacob excited Laban’s envy, so that he perceived it prudent to leave Mesopotamia. For this purpose he calls his two wives, and tells them of his design, which they approving of, he went off privately, taking family and possessions. Laban, informed of their sudden departure, and missing some of his idols, pursues them seven days. As soon as he overtook them, he reproached Jacob for stealing his daughters; and however right it might be to return to his country; it was very unjust to steal the idols. Jacob declared his ignorance of any such thing, whereupon Laban examined his whole effects, and at last enters Rachel’s tent; but before his coming she hid them in the camel’s furniture, and sat upon them; and desired her father not to take it ill that she did not rise, as she was unwell. Laban, forced to return without them, made a covenant with Jacob, after which they lovingly took leave of each other.

Jacob wrestleth with an Angel.

Jacob having thus escaped the hands of Laban, began to think how he might escape those of Esau, whereupon he sent messengers before him that he might find grace in his sight. Upon their return they declared that he was at the head of four hundred men coming to meet Jacob, which filled him with extreme fear. Jacob, to soften his brother’s heart, prepared great presents to him, left orders for his wives and children to pass over the brook Jabbok by night, while he remained on the other side. He betakes himself to prayer for a happy meeting with his brother, when an angel appeared unto him, and wrestled with him until day, when the angel touched the hollow of his thigh, and caused him to halt, and gave him the new name of Israel, with the assurance that he had nothing to fear from men, and in particular from his brother Esau.

Jacob’s sons kill all the people of Shechem.

When Jacob was returned from Mesopotamia, a city of the Shechemites, an accident happened which caused him a great deal of sorrow. Dinah being gone abroad to see the daughters of the land, their king took her by force, and ravished her; but desired to get her to wife. Jacob was grieved at his daughter’s defilement; and his sons, dissembling their rage, requested the Shechemites to be circumcised, that the mutual intercourse they proposed should take place. They consented; and on the third day, when their pain was most sensible, Simeon and Levi took their swords, and came upon them, and slew all the males, without sparing the king himself or his son, whose unlawful lust caused this bloodshed. The rest of Jacob’s sons pillaged the city, and carried all the spoil along with them, taking all their little ones and their wives captives. Jacob was extremely troubled at this, their revenge.

AN ACCOUNT OF JONAH’S MISSION

TO THE

NINEVITES.

Jonah was the son of Amittai, a prophet of Gath-hepher in Galilee. Some Jews would have him to be the son of the widow of Sarepta, raised to life by Elijah, but the distance of time renders it almost impossible; nor is it a whit more certain that he was the son of the Shunamite restored to life by Elisha, or the young prophet who anointed Jehu.

It is certain, that he predicted that God would restore to the Hebrews, the cities which the Syrians had taken from them during the reigns of Ahab, Jehoram, Jehu, and Jehoahaz, 2 Kings, xiv. 25. He restored the coast of Israel from the entering of Hamath unto the sea of the plain, according to the word of the Lord God of Israel, which he spake by the hand of his servant Jonah, the son of Amittai the prophet which was of Gath-hepher. We have also the book of Jonah, where God ordered him to go to Nineveh and warn the inhabitants of their approaching destruction.

Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, and built by Asshur the son of Shem; Genesis, x. 11, “Out of that land went forth Asshur, and builded Nineveh.” It was one of the largest cities in the world. In Jonah’s time it was a city of three day’s journey, or would require him three days to go through it, proclaiming its overthrow. It then had about one hundred and twenty thousand infants in it, whom we cannot suppose above the eighth or tenth part of its inhabitants: one learned writer says it was sixty miles in circumference; and another writer says it was larger than Babylon. It was surrounded by a wall about two hundred feet high, and so thick, that three chariots abreast might have been driven along the top: on the wall were built one thousand five hundred towers, each two hundred feet higher than the wall; this city was very early noted for wealth, idolatry, and whoredom.

Fearing that the Lord might forbear punishing them if they repented, and so seemingly tarnish his honour, Jonah shipped himself at Joppa for Tarshish, when a storm quickly pursued the ship wherein he was. The heathen mariners awaked him, and required him to call on his God for deliverance. Lots being cast to discern for whose sake the storm arose, the lot fell on Jonah, who with shame confessed his guilt to the mariners, and desired them to cast him into the sea, that the storm might be stayed, which with reluctance, they were at last obliged to do; whereon the storm immediately ceased. A large fish swallowed up Jonah, and retained him safe in her belly for three days. There he earnestly prayed to the Lord, at whose command the fish vomited him alive on dry land. His orders to warn the Ninevites of their approaching destruction were immediately renewed, and all obedient, he hasted to that vast city, and travelled in it above a day’s journey denouncing their ruin if they did not repent within forty days. When the inhabitants heard this, they were greatly afflicted; a fast of three days both for man and beast was appointed, and they cried mightily to God for the preventing of this stroke; he heard their prayers, and long delayed their ruin. Displeased with the divine mercy, Jonah angrily wished to die, rather than live and see his prediction unfulfilled. While he sat without the city, waiting for his desired view of Nineveh’s ruin, God caused a gourd quickly to spring up to overshadow him from the scorching heat of the sun, but next day, a worm having bitten its root, it suddenly withered. The scorching sun and blasting wind vehemently beating on Jonah, he fainted and angrily wished to die, and averred to God himself that he was right in doing so. The Lord bid him think, if he had pity on the short-lived gourd, was there not far more reason for his and their maker to pity the penitent inhabitants of Nineveh?

Nineveh at last was destroyed about one hundred years after Jonah. The Medes and Persians had several times laid siege to it, but were diverted by various accidents; but after the massacre of the Tartars in Media, they repeated the siege, Cyaxares and Nebuchadnezzar being the commanders: after they had lain before it three years, the river Tigrus or Sycus, being exceedingly swollen, washed away two and a half miles of the wall; when the waters assuaging the besiegers rushed into the city, and murdered the inhabitants, who lay buried in their drunkeness, occasioned by an advantage which they had just before gained over the enemy. When the king, whose name we suppose was Sardanapalus, heard the city was taken, it is said, he shut up himself, family, and wealth to the value of about twenty-five thousand millions sterling, in the palace, and then set fire to it, and destroyed all that was in it, and it was fifteen days before the flames were quenched.

It is hard to say what was the gourd that covered Jonah’s head at Nineveh: Jerome says, it was a small shrub, which, in the sandy places of Canaan, grows up in a few days to a considerable height, and with its large leaves forms an agreeable shade. It is now generally thought to be the Palma Christi, which is somewhat like a lily, with large smooth and black spotted leaves; one kind of it grows to the height of a fig-tree, and whose branches and trunk are hollow as a reed; there is also the wild gourd, which creeps along the surface of the earth, as those of cucumbers; its fruit is of the size and form of an orange, containing a light substance, but so excessively bitter that it has been called the gall of the earth.

I have now given you a short account of the History of Jonah, which could be greatly enlarged if space would permit—also the command given by God to preach at Nineveh—Jonah’s disobedience to that command—the pursuit and arrest of him for that disobedience by a storm, in which he was asleep—the discovery of him and his disobedience to be the cause of the storm—the casting of him into the sea, for the stilling of the storm—the miraculous preservation of his life there in the belly of a fish, which was his preservation for further services. We have also Jonah’s praying unto God: in his prayer we have, the great distress and danger he was in—the despair he was thereby almost reduced to—the encouragement he took to himself in this deplorable condition—the assurance he had of God’s favour to him—the warning and instruction he gives to others—the praise and glory of all given to God—his deliverance out of the belly of the fish—and his coming safe and sound upon dry land again—his mission renewed—and the command a second time given him to go preach at Nineveh—his message to Nineveh faithfully delivered, by which its speedy overthrow was threatened—the repentance, humiliatian, and reformation of the Ninevites hereupon—God’s gracious revocation of the sentence passed upon them, and the preventing of the ruin threatened. We have also Jonah’s repining at God’s mercy to Nineveh, and the fret he was in about it—the gentle reproof God gave him for it, Jonah’s discontent at the withering of the gourd, and justifying of himself in that discontent—God’s improving of it for his conviction, that he ought not to be angry at the sparing of Nineveh. Man’s badness and God’s goodness serve here for a foil to each other, that the former may appear the more exceeding sinful, and the latter the more exceeding gracious.

From all this we may learn, First, that though God may suffer his people to fall into sin, yet he will not suffer them to lie still in it, but will take a course effectually to show them their error, and to bring them to themselves, and to their right mind again. We have reason to hope that Jonah, after this, was well reconciled to the sparing of Nineveh, and was as well pleased with it, as ever he had been displeased.

Second, that God will justify himself in the methods of his grace toward repenting returning sinners, as well as in the course his justice takes with them that persist in their rebellion, though there are those that murmur at the mercy of God, because they do not understand it, (for his thoughts and ways therein are as far above ours as heaven is above the earth) yet he will make it evident that therein he acts like himself, and will be justified when he speaks. See what pains he takes with Jonah, to convince him that it was very fit that Nineveh should be spared. Jonah had said, I do well to be angry, but he could not prove it; God says, I do well to be merciful, and proves it; and it is a great encouragement to poor sinners to hope that they shall find mercy with him, that he is so ready to justify himself in showing mercy, and to triumph in those whom he makes the monuments of it, against those who is evil because he is good; such murmurers shall be made to understand this doctrine, that how narrow soever their souls and their principles are, and how willing soever they are to engross divine grace to themselves, and those of their own way, their is one Lord over all, that is rich in mercy to all that call on him, and in every nation, Nineveh as well as in Israel, he that fears God, and works righteousness, is accepted of him, and he that repents and turns from his evil way shall find mercy with him.

Did not the fate of this prophet typify our Saviour’s being cast into the raging sea of divine wrath; his lying a part of three days in the grave; his glorious resurrection from the dead; and the publication of his gospel to multitudes of perishing sinners that followed.

We cannot close more fitly, perhaps than by extracting a few lines from the powerful summing up by the poet Young.

“What am I? and from whence?—I nothing know,

But what I am: and since I am, conclude

Something eternal: had there e’er been nought,

Nought still had been: eternal there must be.

But what eternal?—Why not human race?

And Adam’s ancestors without an end?

That’s hard to be conceiv’d. Yet grant it true,

Whence earth and these bright orbs?—Eternal too?

Grant matter was eternal, still these orbs

Would want some other father;—much design

Is seen in all their motions, all their makes:

Design implies intelligence, and art;

That can’t be from themselves, or man; that art

Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow?

Who motion, foreign to the smallest grain,

Shot through vast masses of enormous weight?

Who bade brute matter’s restive lump assume

Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly?

Has matter innate motion? then each atom,

Asserting its indisputable right

To dance, would form an universe of dust:

Has matter none? Then whence these glorious forms

And boundless flights, from shapeless, and repos’d?

Has matter more than motion?—has it thought,

Judgment, and genius?—is it deeply learn’d

In mathematics? Has it fram’d such laws,

Which but to guess a Newton made immortal?—

If so, how each sage atom laughs at me,

Who thinks a clod inferior to a man!

If art to form, and counsel to conduct,

And that with greater far than human skill,

Resides not in each block—a Godhead reigns—

And if a God there is, that God how great!”

THE

HISTORY OF MOSES;

GIVING AN

Account of his birth, his being found by Pharaoh’s daughter in the ark of bulrushes, and the miracles wrought by him for the deliverance of the children of Israel.

EMBELLISHED WITH CUTS.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

The finding of Moses.

Exodus ii. 1.

Moses was the son of Amram and Jochebed, of the tribe of Levi, and was born in Egypt. In consequence of the decree of Pharaoh for putting the male children of the Hebrews to death, his mother seeing that he was a goodly child, hid him three months. At length when she could no longer hide him, she made for him with her own hands a little cradle of bulrushes, which she daubed with slime and pitch to keep out the water, and having put the child into it, she laid it among the flags by the edge of the river Nile. She then left his sister at a little distance from the spot to watch the cradle. A short time after Jochebed had left her child, the daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe herself in the river, and when she saw the little ark, she sent her maid to fetch it. And when she opened it, she saw the child, and behold the child wept. And she had compassion on him, and said, “This is one of the Hebrew’s children.” And the sister of the child, who had seen all that had passed, came to the princess, and said to her, “Shall I go and call thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for thee?” And Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Go:” and the maid went and called the child’s mother. And the woman took the child and nursed it. And we read that the child grew under the tender care of his mother, and that she took him when he was old enough unto Pharaoh’s daughter, who brought him up as her own son. And she called his name Moses, which, in the Egyptian tongue, means one saved out of the water.

As the son of Pharaoh’s daughter, Moses was educated in a magnificent and princely manner, yet Moses did not forget his own people, or his father’s house. In his visits to his own people, Moses saw and pitied the miseries which they had to bear from the cruelty of King Pharaoh. He saw their sufferings, and could no longer be happy in the court of Egypt, among the enemies of his people and of their religion. His faith made him more proud of the name of Israelite then he had ever been of being called the adopted son of King Pharaoh’s daughter. Once more among his own people, he found it very difficult to see with patience all that they had to bear; and on one occasion we read that he saved a Hebrew from the hand of an Egyptian who was smiting him, and slew the Egyptian. When Pharaoh heard this thing, he sought to slay Moses. And Moses fled from the face of Pharaoh, and dwelt in the land of Midian, and lived several years with Jethro, who gave him one of his daughters for his wife.

The burning Bush.

Exodus iii. 1.

One day, when Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law, the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire, out of the midst of a bush. And Moses said, “I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt.” Then God called unto him out of the midst of the bush, and said, draw not nigh hither; put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. And the Lord commissioned him to deliver his people Israel. But Moses was afraid when he heard what God commanded him to do; because he thought himself unworthy of such an office, and unfit for it. But it pleased God to assure him, that he would be with him, to guide and protect him.

The Plagues of Egypt.

Exodus viii. 1.

Now Moses and Aaron went as the Lord commanded them, and told the people all that the Lord had spoken unto Moses, and did wonders before them. And Moses and Aaron went in and said to King Pharaoh, “Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, ‘Let my people go, that they may hold a feast unto me in the wilderness.’” And Pharaoh said, “Who is the Lord that I should obey his voice to let Israel go? I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go.” And from that day Pharaoh made the children of Israel work harder than they had ever done before, desiring that they might no longer have straw given them to make their bricks of, but that they should from that time be obliged to find their own straw, and at the same time get done as much work as they did when they had straw given them. Then when God saw the hardness of Pharaoh’s heart, he commanded Moses to go to Pharaoh in the morning, when he took his walk by the river, and to take his rod in his hand, and to smite the waters of the river before him, which should all be turned into blood. And the fish that were in the river died, and the river stank, and the Egyptians could not drink of the water of the river; and there was blood throughout all the land of Egypt. Seven days did this sad change in the waters last; but still Pharaoh would not listen to the voice of Moses and Aaron. Then God told Moses to stretch forth his hand over the river, and over all the waters, and to bring frogs over all his people: and Moses did so; and frogs came over all the land of Egypt, as the Lord said. Then Pharaoh sent for Moses and Aaron, and said, “Entreat the Lord, that he may take away the frogs from me, and from my people; and I will let the people go, that they may so sacrifice unto the Lord.” But no sooner did the Lord hear the voice of Moses, and take away this evil from Pharaoh and his people, than the king forgot what he had suffered, and would not let the Israelites go. Great and dreadful were the plagues that the Lord brought upon the land of Egypt before the King would let the children of Israel go. At one time, he covered the whole land, both man and beast, with the most disgusting kind of insects—at another, he sent grievous swarms of flies to torment them—now, he sent mighty hails, and thunderings, and rains upon the land, which were exceeding terrible, filling the hearts of the people with fear—then, he destroyed all the first-born of the land, both man and beast.

The Passover.

Exodus xii. 3.

On the evening before the Passover God commanded that every family of Israel should slay a lamb, and sprinkle the door-posts before the houses with the blood of the lamb; that so, when the angel of the Lord came down to destroy the first-born of Egypt, he might know the houses of Israel from those of Egypt, and pass over them, and save those that dwelt in them from death. This lamb was to be called the Passover, because God should pass over those houses whose doors were sprinkled with its blood. This was the last supper which the children of Israel were ever to eat in Egypt, even the feast of the Passover. They kept up this feast every year, in order that they might remember the night when the Lord smote the Egyptians.

The passage of Israel through the Red Sea.

Exodus xiv. 15.

We now see the children of Israel, delivered by the almighty power of God from Egypt and from Pharaoh, travelling towards the land that God had promised to their fathers. The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way, and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light. When they had thus got as far as Pi-hahiroth, which borders on the Red Sea, they lifted up their eyes, and behold the Egyptians marched after them. So hardened was king Pharaoh’s heart, that scarcely had the Israelites gone out of Egypt before he was sorry that he had let them go. And he took six hundred chosen chariots, and all the chariots of Egypt and captains over every one of them, and passed after the children of Israel, and overtook them by the sea, beside Pi-hahiroth. Then the children of Israel were sore afraid, and cried unto the Lord. The Red Sea before them, the Egyptians behind, they saw no hope of safety; and they were full of anger against Moses, for having brought them out of Egypt. But the Lord said unto Moses, “Lift up thy rod, and stretch out thine hand over the sea, and divide it; and the children of Israel shall go on dry ground through the midst of the sea.” And the angel of the Lord, which went before the camp of Israel, removed and went behind them, and came between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of Israel; so that the one came not near the other all the night. And Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided. But that foolish and wicked man Pharaoh, still set himself against God, and madly pursued the Israelites into the midst of the sea. But so soon as the Israelites had passed over on dry land, and safely reached the shore, the Lord said unto Moses, “Stretch out thine hand over the sea, that the waters may come again upon the Egyptians, upon their chariots, and upon their horsemen.” And Moses stretched forth his hand over the sea, and the sea returned to his strength when the morning appeared, and the Egyptians fled against it; but the Lord overthrew them in the midst of the sea, and the waters returned, and covered the chariots and the horsemen, and all the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea after them; there remained not so much as one of them: and Israel saw their dead bodies upon the sea shore. Thus the Lord saved Israel that day out of the hand of the Egyptians.

Israel fed from Heaven.

Exodus xvi. 1.

We read in the Bible, that after they had crossed the Red Sea, they came into the wilderness of Chur. While travelling onwards through the wilderness of Sin they suffered from hunger, and murmered against Moses and Aaron. But again God heard their cries, and sent them bread from heaven to eat. The Lord said unto Moses, “Behold I will rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a certain rate every day—at even ye shall eat flesh, and in the morning ye shall be filled with bread.” And in the morning there lay a small round thing, as small as the hoar-frost, on the ground. And when the children of Israel saw it, they said one to another, “It is manna.” And Moses said, “This is the bread which the Lord hath given you to eat.”

Moses Smiting the Rock.

Exodus xvii. 1.

We now find the children of Israel travelling from the wilderness of Sin, and, according to the commandment of the Lord, pitching their camp at Rephidim. There being no water here, we find those stubborn and rebellious people, saying unto Moses, “Give us water that we may drink; wherefore is this that thou hast brought us up out of Egypt, to kill us, and our children, and our cattle, with thirst?” The Lord had shewed them signs and mighty wonders in the land of Egypt—he had delivered their children from the sword of the destroying angel, when all around them was anguish and dismay—he heard them when they cried and groaned under the lash of the oppressor, amid the brick-kilns of Egypt, and emancipated them from the same—he opened a passage for them in the mighty waters at the Red Sea, when about to fall a prey to the rage and fury of Pharaoh king of Egypt—moreover, he had given them bread to eat in the wilderness when they hungered for the same; and was still able to give them what they now desired. But they, instead of praying to the Lord that he would once more condescend to look down with compassion upon them, and grant them their request, reproached, and murmured against Moses, the servant of the Lord. And Moses said unto them, “Why chide ye with me? wherefore do ye tempt the Lord?” Moses tired of their complaints and discontent, felt that he could do nothing with the people under his care; but knew that the Lord could either quench there thirst, or put a stop to their rage. He, therefore, cried unto the Lord, and said, “What shall I do unto this people? they be almost ready to stone me.” Nor did he cry in vain, for the Lord said unto him, “Go on before the people, and take with thee of the elders of Israel; and thy rod wherewith thou smotest the river, take in thine hand and go. Behold, I will stand before thee there upon the rock in Horeb, and thou shalt smite the rock, and there shall come water out of it, that the people may drink.” And Moses did so in the sight of the elders of Israel. Thus did God open streams in the desert—he clave the hard rocks in the wilderness, and gave them drink thereof, as it had been out of the great depth—he brought waters out of the strong rock, so that it gushed out like rivers: and this he did although his people had sinned against him, and provoked the Most High in the wilderness.

The Law given from Mount Sinai.

Exodus xix. 10.

Now the children of Israel encamped before Mount Sinai. Then God desired that the people would put away all their usual employments, and spend the next two days in preparing to appear before him. And on the third day Moses brought forth the people out of the camp to meet with God; and Mount Sinai was altogether on a smoke; because the Lord descended upon it in fire, and the whole mount quaked greatly. And when the voice of the trumpet sounded long, and waxed louder and louder, Moses spake, and God answered him by a voice. And the Lord called Moses up to the top of the mount. Then Moses went up and heard God himself speak the Ten Commandments which we have in the twentieth Chapter of Exodus.

The Israelites worshipping the golden calf.

Exodus xxxii. 1.

Now Moses was forty days and forty nights in the mount with God; and the people had began to wonder what had become of him, and to be tired of waiting and looking for his return. Although the glory of the Lord still rested on the mount, and the presence of the Lord was clearly there, they pretended to think that God and Moses had left them, and they said one to another, “Let us make us gods which shall go before us.” And they made them a golden calf, and said, “These be thy gods, O Israel, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt.” And they worshipped the golden calf which they had set up, although God had positively forbidden them to make any graven image to worship, or the likeness of any thing in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the water under the earth. But so evil were their hearts, so ready to wander from God, so quick to forget his mercies, that having been left only for a few short days to themselves, they set up a golden calf to worship. And the Lord said unto Moses, “Go, get thee down; for thy people have corrupted themselves: they have turned aside quickly out of the way which I commanded them; they have made them a molten calf, and have worshipped it: let me alone that my wrath may consume them, and I will make of thee a great nation.” But Moses loved the people of Israel; and he prayed earnestly for them, unto the Lord his God. And the Lord who is abundant in mercy, graciously heard his prayer; so as not to destroy them altogether in a moment. And Moses went down from the mount, and as soon as he came nigh unto the camp, he saw the calf, and the dancing; and his anger waxed hot, and he cast the tables out of his hands, and break them beneath the mount. And he took the calf which they had made, and burnt it in the fire, and ground it to powder, and strewed it upon the water, and made them drink of it. And he stood in the gate of the camp, and said, “Who is on the Lord’s side? let him come unto me.” And all the sons of Levi gathered themselves together unto him. Then Moses, by the command of God, desired the sons of Levi to take their swords and go in amongst the people, and kill them: and they did so; and there fell of the people that day about three thousand. And to the rest of the people Moses said, “Ye have sinned a great sin; and now will I go up unto the Lord; peradventure I shall make an atonement for your sin.”

Nadab and Abihu burnt by fire.

Leviticus x. 1.

Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, took either of them his censer, and put fire therein, and put incense thereon, and offered strange fire before the Lord, which he commanded them not. And there went out fire from the Lord, and devoured them, and they died before the Lord. Then Moses said unto Aaron, “This is it that the Lord spake, saying, I will be sanctified in them that come nigh me, and before all the people I will be glorified.” And Aaron held his peace. And Moses called Mishael and Elzaphan, the sons of Uzziel, the uncle of Aaron, and said unto them, “Carry your brethren from before the sanctuary out of the camp.” So they carried them, as Moses had said; And Moses said unto Aaron, and unto his sons, “Uncover not your heads, neither rend your clothes, lest ye die.”

The Spies return from surveying Canaan.

Numbers xiii. 1.

The children of Israel were thus wonderfully led by the Lord throughout all their journeys, until they arrived safely on the borders of the land of Canaan. There God desired Moses, to send men to search the land of Canaan. And Moses sent twelve men, one man from each of the tribes or families of Israel, and said unto them, “Go, see the land what it is, and the people that dwell therein, whether they be strong or weak, few or many; and what the land is that they dwell in, whether it be good or bad. And be ye of good courage, and bring of the fruit of the land.” Now the time was the time of the first ripe grapes. So they went up and searched the land; and they came to a brook or valley, afterward called Eshcol. And so beautiful were the fruits they found in this fertile valley of Eshcol, that they cut down there a bunch of grapes so large that two men were obliged to carry it between them on a stick: they took also of the pomegranates and the figs. After forty days spent in searching the land, they went back to Moses and Aaron, and all the people, and shewed them the fruit of the land; and they told them that such were the fruits of the land of Canaan, and that it was certainly a land flowing with milk and honey; but in other respects these men gave a very evil account of the land itself, and a very frightful one of the people that dwelt there, whom they called giants; saying, “That by the side of them they seemed to themselves as grasshoppers.” But two of the children of Israel, named Caleb and Joshua, who were of the twelve who had been sent into the land, declared unto all the people that what the others had told them was not true. But the people would not listen to Caleb and Joshua, nor believe what they said; for their hearts were exceedingly perverse towards God. And the anger of the Lord was exceeding great against the children of Israel; and because they had acted in this wicked manner, God said they should not see the land which he had promised them; no, not one of them should enter that land, excepting his servants Caleb and Joshua; but that the rest of the people should die in the wilderness, and that their children should wander there, until all those who had now and so often before sinned against the Lord had died and were buried. Then God said to this wicked people, “Turn you, and get you into the wilderness, by the way of the Red Sea.” Now Moses told these sayings to the people of Israel, and they murmured greatly.

He that violated the Sabbath is stoned.

Numbers xv. 32.

On one occasion some of the children of Israel found a man gathering sticks upon the sabbath day. And they put him in ward, because it had not been declared what should be done to him. And the Lord said unto Moses, “The man shall be surely put to death: all the congregation shall stone him with stones without the camp.” And all the congregation brought him without the camp, and stoned him with stones, and he died; as the Lord commanded Moses. And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, “Bid them make fringes in the border of their garments, throughout their generations, and put upon the fringe of the borders a ribband of blue; that they may remember, and do all my commandments, and be holy unto their God.”

The earth swalloweth up Korah.

Numbers xvi. 1.

Now Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, took men; and they rose up before Moses, with certain of the children of Israel, two hundred and fifty princes of the assembly. And they gathered themselves together against Moses and Aaron, and said unto them, “Ye take too much upon you, seeing all the congregation are holy, every one of them, and the Lord is among them; wherefore then lift ye up yourselves above the congregation of the Lord?” And when Moses heard it, he fell upon his face; and he spake unto Korah, and all his company, saying, “Even to-morrow, the Lord will shew who are his, and who is holy; and will cause him to come near unto him. This do; take you censers, Korah and all his company; and put fire therein, and put incense in them before the Lord to-morrow, and it shall be, that the man whom the Lord doth choose, he shall be holy.” And they took every man his censer, and put fire in them, and laid incense thereon, and stood in the door of the tabernacle of the congregation with Moses and Aaron. And Korah gathered all the congregation against them, and the glory of the Lord appeared unto all the congregation. And the Lord spake unto Moses and unto Aaron, saying, “Separate yourselves from among this congregation, that I may consume them in a moment.” But Moses and Aaron fell upon their faces, and entreated the Lord to spare the congregation. And the Lord commanded Moses to speak unto them, and say, “Get you up from about the tabernacle of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram.” So Moses spake these words unto them, and they obeyed him, and departed from the tabernacle of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram. Then Moses said unto them, “If these men die the common death of all men, then the Lord hath not sent me; but if the Lord open the mouth of the earth, and swallow them up, and all that pertaineth unto them, then ye shall know that these men have provoked the Lord.” And it came to pass, as he had made an end of speaking these words, that the ground clave asunder under them; and the earth opened her mouth, and swallowed them up, and their houses, and all the men that appertained unto Korah. And there came out fire from the Lord and consumed the two hundred and fifty men that offered incense. Then the congregation murmured against Moses, saying, “Ye have killed the people of the Lord.” And the Lord was angry with the children of Israel, and smote them with a plague; which, however, was stayed by the intercession of Aaron.

The Brazen Serpent.

Numbers xxi. 6.

The children of Israel being obliged to take a longer journey than they expected before they were permitted to enter the promised land, murmured against the Lord and against Moses. Then the Lord in his anger sent fiery serpents among the people, which bit them; and much people of Israel died. And Moses prayed for the people. And the Lord said unto Moses, “Make thee a fiery serpent, and set it upon a pole; and it shall come to pass, that every one that is bitten, when he looketh upon it, shall live.” And Moses made a serpent of brass, and put it upon a pole, and it came to pass, that if a serpent had bitten any man, when he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived. The children of Israel continued their journey towards the promised land; none of them, however, who had left the land of Egypt, save Joshua the son of Nun, and Caleb the son of Jephunneh, were permitted to enter it, for having sinned so often against the Lord. Even Moses the servant of the Lord, though permitted to see it from the top of Mount Nebo, was not permitted to enter; but died in the land of Moab, when he was an hundred and twenty years of age. And the children of Israel wept for Moses thirty days.

FINIS.

THE HISTORY

OF

JOSEPH & HIS BRETHREN,

EMBELLISHED WITH CUTS;

TO WHICH IS ADDED,

THE LIFE, JOURNEYINGS, AND DEATH

OF THE

APOSTLE PAUL.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

JOSEPH’S FIRST DREAM.

In Canaan lived a man of righteousness,

Whom the great God in love was pleas’d to bless

With twelve sweet sons, one Joseph called by name.

Whose worthiness we’ll to the world proclaim.

Being endued with blessings from above,

He gained the favour of his father’s love,

Now while his brothers hated him, behold!

He dream’d a dream, which unto them he told;

Saying, “As we were binding in the field

Our sheaves of wheat, it was to me revealed

That mine arose upright, and yours around,

Stood making low obedience to the ground.”

These words of his, they did anger breed;

They say, must you reign over us indeed?

The like of this was never known before,

Thus for his dreams they hated him the more.

HIS SECOND DREAM.

Soon after this as Joseph sleeping

Free from the toils and troubles of the day,

He dreamed a second dream, and told the same

Unto his brothers, as to them he came;

Saying, in sleep appeared before my eyes,

The sun, the moon, the seven stars likewise,

All making their obedience unto me,

With meek and humble humility.

He told it likewise to his father dear,

Who chid him, saying, what is this I hear?

Must I, thy mother, and thy brothers too,

Be all obliged to bow the knee to you,

Low on the earth, as if you reigned and ruled:

’Tis very hard that aged parents should

A meek and lowly veneration pay

To you who ought to honour and obey.

HE IS PUT INTO A PIT.

This very paragraph will clearly show

How they did seek young Joseph’s overthrow,

His father sent him to the rural plain,

Where with their flocks his brothers did remain.

When afar off young Joseph they espied,

Behold, here comes the dreamer now, they cried

Let us conclude to take his life away,

And cast him in a pit without delay,

Then see how all his dreams will come to pass:

But Reuben, Reuben pitied him, alas!

And hid him in the pit, there to remain,

Till he might safe conduct him home again.

What mortal man is able to express,

Poor Joseph’s grief when in the wilderness

He lay confined? no doubt his present fears

Caused his youthful eyes to flow with tears.

HE IS SOLD INTO EGYPT.

While in the pit young Joseph lay confined,

They sat them down to eat, and ere they dined

Some Ishmaelites from Egypt passed by;

Then Judah made his brothers this reply,

“What shall it profit to us now, I pray,

If we should take this precious life away?”

They all consented to the same with speed,

For loth they were to see their brother bleed.

Then from the lonesome pit the child they drew,

And sold him to those trading merchants, who

A score of silver pieces for him paid,

And then to Egypt he was soon conveyed.

When Reuben found him not, how did he grieve

The rest contrive their father to deceive,

By staining Joseph’s coat with purple blood,

Which caused poor Joseph many a weeping flood.

TEMPTED BY POTIPHAR’S WIFE.

When Joseph to the land of Egypt came,

One Potiphar a man of noted fame,

Bought him with silver and preferred him straight

Making him steward of his whole estate.

On whom his mistress cast her wanton eyes,

And he reproved her, and said, be wise,

And cast, henceforth, these idle thoughts away—

How can I do that wicked thing, I pray?

Now finding her entreaties would not do,

She went to seize him, but away he flew,

Leaving his garment in her hand also:

Now from that time she proved his mortal foe:

She said, my lord, (when he returned at night,)

Thy Hebrew strove with all his might,

To mock thy lady, but was ne’er the near,

I cried, he fled, and left his garment here.

CAST INTO THE DUNGEON.

No sooner had she made this false report

Of Joseph’s coming in so vile a sort,

But Potiphar immediately he flew

Into a sad and cruel passion too,

And cast him into prison where he lay

Till the chief butler and the baker, they

By Pharaoh’s strict command were sent to be

Confined from their former liberty.

The baker and the butler both, we find

With dreams one night were much disturbed in mind,

When they to Joseph did themselves apply,

He told them what their dreams did signify;

One he restores unto his former place,

The other, he must die in sad disgrace;

The butler must his former place supply,

The baker by the laws be doomed to die,

HE IS MADE LORD OF THE LAND.

Still Joseph lay confined in prison fast,

Until two tedious years were gone and past.

At length Pharaoh dreamed, but none in the land

Could his dream interpret or understand.

Then the chief butler to the king did say,

“I needs must own my faults this day:

In prison lies a Hebrew servant there,

Who will the truth of all your dreams declare:”

Then from a prison to a palace straight,

Joseph was brought, and Pharoah did relate

His dreams, and did full satisfaction find,

Which eased the grief and anguish of his mind:

He gave such satisfaction to the king,

That from his royal hand he drew a ring,

And gave it Joseph, saying, “Thou shalt be

Next to myself in royal dignity.”

His Brethren going to buy Corn.

Behold the dreams of Pharoah did fortell,

A mighty famine, which at length befell;

Joseph in Egypt was head ruler over all;

But when his brothers came, and seemed to fall

Before him, straight his dreams came in his mind

Yet he spoke rough, and seemed most unkind:

You’re spies said he, they answered, no,

We are true men, my lord, pray say not so,

Sons of one man, we twelve in number were,

The youngest now under his father’s care

Remains at home, the other he is not.

He knew them, yet his anger seemed hot,

And for three days they were in prison cast,

Confined they lay, yet Joseph came at last,

And laid upon them all a strict command,

To bring their young brother out of hand.

THE CUP IN BENJAMIN’S SACK.

When they had eaten up their slender store

Jacob he needs must send them down for more;

But knowing that his youngest son must go,

His eyes with melting tears did overflow.

With presents then they did return again,

And Joseph doth them kindly entertain.

When he his brother Benjamin beheld,

His bowels yearned, his heart with joy was filled;

But here’s a grief which did them all surround,

The nightly lord, his silver cup was found

On Benjamin; this made them sore afraid,

That for that crime they would be captives made:

Then to the house of Joseph they returned,

Judah he pleaded, till his bowels yearned,

To be a captive in his brother’s room,

Lest he should see his father’s threatened doom.

JOSEPH DECLARETH HIMSELF.

“My lord, hear thy servant now I pray,

Our father, when we brought the child away

Expressed such grief and sorrow for his sake,

That if he stay, his aged heart will break:

Seeing his tears, which fell like showers of rain,

I promised then he should return again.

Therefore, my lord, pray let him go, for I

Am loth to live to see my father die.”

Joseph from tears could now no longer hold:

He said, “I am your brother whom you sold

To Egypt, when on me your anger fell;

And is my father yet alive and well?”

Then on each other’s necks they wept amain.

Their cries were heard, from tears could not refrain

“O fetch my father hither,” Joseph cried,

“That for the family I may now provide.”

JACOB’S JOURNEY INTO EGYPT.

The sons of Jacob Pharaoh did command,

To take both food and waggons from the land

Of Egypt, to fetch their father straight;

They did, and poor old Jacob’s joy was great

He said, still as his spirits did revive,

It is enough, Joseph is yet alive,

The son for whom I mourned, therefore I

Will go and see him now before I die.

Then on his journey still he doth proceed,

And in the land of Goshen, there indeed

Joseph did meet him, whom he straight did bring

Into the royal presence of the king.

When Jacob before king Pharaoh stood,

His age one hundred and thirty years, a good

Old man was he; Pharaoh gave to his race,

The land of Goshen for a dwelling-place.

JOSEPH VISITS HIS FATHER.

When Joseph knew his pious father lay

On his sick bed, to him he hastes away,

Joseph he brought Manasseh and Ephraim,

Placed them before his father’s eyes now dim,

At sight of them, cries Jacob, “Who are these?”

“My sons,” says Joseph, “from between my knees.”

When near, he kissed them, and with sweet embrace

Admires his GOD before his Joseph’s face.

These boys of thine which were in Egypt born,

They shall be mine, not orphans or forlorn.

Manasseh he blest, commended to his GOD,

Bids him to mark the steps that Abraham trod,

Displeased was Joseph to see his elder son

Put by, and the younger the blessing won;

But Jacob replied, “Son, I know it well,

For Ephraim shall unto great nations swell.”

JACOB BLESSETH HIS SONS.

Jacob he calls his first born, Reuben, near,

Weak as the water from the fountain clear;

Simeon and Levi, men of cruelty,

They smote a man, and caused him so to die.

Judah’s bright sceptre shan’t from him depart

Till Shiloh come rejoicing every heart.

Zebulun’s a small port where tall ships may pass,

Issachar well resembles the couchant ass.

Dan as a judge will do his people right,

Gad by a troop at last will win the fight;

Asher his bread is fat, and of a dainty sort,

Naphtali’s a hind loosed for the hunter’s sport.

Joseph’s a bough laden with pleasent fruit,

Near to a well, whose branches sap recruit:

Benjamin like a ravenous wolf doth slay,

Devours his prey, then bears the spoil away.

JOSEPH’S LOVE TO HIS FATHER.

Filial affection’s to old Jacob good,

When Canaan’s land lay destitute of food,

Then Joseph kind his aged father fed,

When thousands daily starved for want of bread;

His love expressed with mind sedate and calm,

Then with rich spices did his corpse embalm;

When breathless lay upon a bed of down,

He treats blest Jacob, father of renown;

Falls on his clay and with a kind embrace,

Salutes the late most venerable face

Of Pious Jacob, now growing stiff and cold.

It must be so when life is charged to mould,

Plenty of tears did from his eye balls flow,

To show mankind he did his duty know,

That nought’s too much to pay a parent dear,

From children that the awful GOD do fear.

JACOB’S FUNERAL.

When seventeen long years Jacob had dwelt,

Behold, the fatal hand of death he felt:

To Joseph he commits the special care

Of his great funeral, and tells him where

He would be laid, which was fulfilled at large,

According to the tenor of his charge;

For having yielded up his vital breath,

He dropped into the frozen arms of death.

Numbers of mourning coaches out of hand

Prepared were; thus to his native land

He was conveyed a sleeping-place to have,

Near to the borders of his father’s grave.

Upright he was, and just in all his ways;

Pray now observe the number of his days,

He was, when he dropt off this earthly stage,

One hundred and forty-seven years of age.

THE

LIFE OF ST. PAUL.

Saint Paul, though not one of the twelve, yet for his great eminence in the ministry of the gospel, had the honour to be styled an apostle, particularly above all the rest that were not of the number, and hath justly the next place to St. Peter allotted to him, both in regard they were so conversant in their lives, and inseparable in their deaths. He was born at Tarsus, not only of Jewish parents, but originally descended from an ancient Jewish family of the tribe of Benjamin in Judea, where he had his education, which was a flourishing Academy, whose scholars (as Strabo testifies) excelled those of Alexandria, and even Athens itself. In the schools of this city, he was brought up from his childhood, and became an excellent proficient in all the polite learning of the ancients, yet at the same time he was brought up to a manual trade, as even the most learned of their Rabbins were, for enabling them to get a livelihood if occasion required it; it being a maxim (especially amongst the Jews,) that he who teacheth not his son a trade, teacheth him to be a thief; for learning of old was not made an instrument to get a maintenance by, but for the better polishing the mind; so that the learned among the Jews were frequently denominated (as Drusius observes,) from some one or other handy-craft trade, as Rabbie Judah, the baker; Rabbie Jochanan, the Shoemaker, &c.

Having at Tarsus attained to a great perfection in the liberal arts and sciences. He was sent to Jerusalem to be instructed in the knowledge of the laws; and for the better accomplishing him in that study, was put under the tuition of Raban Gamaliel the son of Simon, (the same probably that took up our Saviour in his arms.) He was an eminent doctor of the law, one of the families of the schools at Jerusalem, and a person of principal note and authority in the Jewish Sanhedrim, in which that grave and prudent speech, mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, which he made on behalf of the apostles and their doctrine, took great effect. At the feet of this great doctor St. Paul was brought up, as he himself testifies; and by his instructions he soon advanced to that degree, that he gained himself a reputation above all his fellow scholars. Moreover he was a strict professor of the sect of the Pharisees, which of all others amongst the Jews, was the severest and most magisterial; and the professors thereof, generally great applauders of themselves for their sanctity, despising and censuring all others as reprobates, and unworthy of their society, and presuming (as Josephus writes) to govern even princes themselves. With the fiery genius of this sect, our apostle was too deeply infected, which made him a most zealous persecutor of the Saints; so that when the blood of the martyr Stephen was shed, I (saith he with sorrow after his conversion) was standing by, consented to his death, and kept the raiment of them that slew him. Nay, of all the apparators, and inquisitors, employed by the Sanhedrim, to execute their warrants; upon those upstart heretics, as they called them, who preached against the law of Moses, and the tradition of the fathers; he was the man that strove to be the forwardest. In this zeal to execute his office, as he was on his way to Damascus, with some other, of his fellow officers, breathing out vengeance and destruction against the poor Christians, their was on a sudden a most glorious light shot full upon him, and the rest that were with him, so that they fell to the ground in great amazement, and at the same time a voice from heaven was directed to him, saying, “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” to which, amazed as he was, he answered, Lord who art thou? the voice replying, that it was Jesus whom he persecuted, and that it was hard for him to kick against the pricks. He again desired further instructions; Lord, said he, what wilt thou have me to do; upon which he was bid to rise, and go to Damascus, and there expect what should be further revealed to him; rising from the ground he found his sight gone. In this plight being led to Damascus, he was there three days fasting, and probably then he saw that celestial vision mentioned by him, wherein he heard and saw things past utterance, and those divine revelations, which gave him occasion to say, that the gospel he preached, he was not taught by man, but had it revealed to him by Jesus Christ. The three days being expired, Ananias, a devout man, and one of the seventy disciples came to him, according to the command he had received from our Lord, who appeared to him, to go and enquire for one Saul of Tarsus, and having laid his hands on him, told him his message, upon which his sight was restored to him, and the gift of the Holy Ghost conferred on him; presently after he was baptized, and made a member of the church, to the great joy of the rest of the disciples, that he should become not only a professor, but a preacher of that faith, which he so lately was a bitter persecutor of. His stay at this time at Damascus was not long, for being warned away by a vision from heaven, he took a journey into Arabia, where he preached the gospel for three years, and then returned to Damascus, where the unconverted Jews eagerly sought his ruin, endeavouring to seize him, but he escaped through the help of the disciples, and the rest of his friends who were zealous for his safety.

Thus far we have made an entrance into the life and acts of this great apostle, with which there is scarcely any thing equally memorable in history, nor could the further prosecution thereof have been omitted, but that all the travels of this apostle in the pursuance of his ministry, from the time of his conversion to the last of his being at Rome, with the most principal transactions, and the severest accidents that happened to him therein, are already related in the exposition of the map of the voyages of the apostles, and more particularly those of St. Paul, in which, for avoiding needless repetitions, the sequel of his life may not unfitly be referred. We shall therefore make some enquiry into the time and occasion of the several epistles wrote to the several churches; as also unto the time and manner of his death.

When he went from Athens to Corinth, it is said he wrote his first epistle to the Thessalonians, which he sent Silas and Timothy, who returned during his stay, and before his departure he wrote his second epistle to them, to excuse his not coming to them as he promised in his first. Not long after at Ephesus, he is said to have written his epistle to the Galatians; and before he left Ephesus, he wrote his first epistle to the Corinthians. Moreover, he sent from thence by Apollos and Silas to Titus, whom he left in that island to propagate the faith, and had him made bishop thereof, in which he gives him advice for the better execution of his episcopal office. At Macedonia, whither he went from Ephesus, having by Titus received an account of the church of Corinth’s present state of affairs, he sent by him at his return, when he was accompanied by St. Luke, his second epistle to the Corinthians; and about the same time he wrote his first epistle to Timothy, whom he had left at Ephesus. From Corinth he went to Macedon, whither he sent his epistle to the Romans, by Phebe, a deaconess of the Church of Cenchrea, not far from Corinth. Going thence to Rome, he sent his epistle to the Phillipians by Epaphroditus, who had been sent from them with relief, not knowing to what straits he might be reduced by his imprisonment at Rome. In the next place, he sends by Tychicus his epistle to the Ephesians. Not long after, (if not about the same time) he wrote his epistle to the Colossians, and sent it by Epaphras, his fellow-prisoner for some time at Rome. As for his second epistle to Timothy, there is some dispute about the time of his writing it; only it seems probable by authentic authors, that it was written after the Philippians and Ephesians. As for the epistle to the Hebrews, it is not known when, or from whence written, and rather conjectured than certainly known to have been St. Paul’s. Tertulliah judgeth it to be written by Barnabas; but the most received opinion is, that it was St. Paul’s, but written by him in Hebrew, and so sent to the Jews; but for the better publishing it to the Gentiles, translated into Greek, some say by St. Luke, and others by St. Clement, for the style of whose epistles to the Corinthians and Ephesians is observed by St. Jerome to come very near the style of this epistle, and to contain a purer vein of Greek than is found in the rest of St. Paul’s epistles.

Our apostle having been now two years a prisoner at Rome, is at length set free, and soon after departs to visit other parts of the world, for the further divulging the gospel, but into what particular parts is variously conjectured; some think into Greece, and some parts of Asia, where he had not yet been; others will have it that he went preaching, as well into the Eastern as Western parts of the world; for in his epistle to the Corinthians it is said, that Paul being a preacher both Eastward and Westward, taught righteousness to the whole world, and went to the utmost bounds of the West. That he went into Spain, may be gathered both from his own words, as intimating so to do, and also from the testimony of other authors, as Theodoret, who writes, that he not only went into Spain to preach, but brought the gospel into the isles of the sea, and particularly into our island of Britain; and more particularly in another place, he reckons up the Gauls and the Britons amongst those people to whom the apostles, and especially the tent-maker, as he calls him, had divulged the Christian faith.

Farther mention of St. Paul we find none till his next and last coming to Rome, which is said to be about the 8th and 9th years of Nero’s reign; and he came in the fittest time to suffer martyrdom he could have chosen; for whereas at other times, his privilege of being a Roman citizen gained him those civilities which common morality could not deny him, he had to do with a person with whom the crime of being a Christian weighed down all apologies that could be alledged; a person whom lewdness and debauchery had made seven times more a Pagan than any custom or education could have done. What his accusation was, cannot be certainly determined, whether it was his being an associate with St. Peter in the fall of Simon Magus, or his conversion of Poppæa Sabina, one of the Emperor’s concubines, by which he was curbed in the career of his insatiate appetite. Neither can it be resolved how long he remained in prison, what the certain time of his suffering was, and whether (according to the custom) he was first scourged; only Barentons speaks of two pillars in the church of St. Mary, beyond the bridge in Rome, to which both he and St. Peter were bound, when they were scourged.

It is affirmed that St. Paul and St. Peter suffered upon the same day, though different kinds of death. Others will have it that they suffered on the same day of the year, but at a year’s distance; and others affirm that St. Paul suffered several years after St. Peter; but all agree that Paul, as a Roman, had the favour to be beheaded, and not crucified. His execution was at the Aquæ Salviæ, 3 miles from Rome; and he is said to have converted the three soldiers that guarded him thither, who also suffered for the faith. Some of the fathers add, that upon his death there flowed from his veins a liquor more like milk than blood, the sight whereof (saith St. Crysostom) converted the executioner.

He was buried about two miles from Rome, in the way called Via Ostiensis, where Lucina, a noble Roman matron, not long after settled a farm for the maintenance of the church. Here he lay but indifferently entombed for several ages, till the reign of Constantine the Great, who in the year of our Lord, 318, at the request of Sylvester, bishop of Rome, built a very sumptuous church, supported with a hundred stately pillars, and beautified with a most rare and exquisite workmanship, and after all richly gifted and endowed by the emperor himself. Yet was all this thought too mean an honour for so great an apostle by the emperor Valentinian, who sent an order to his Præfect Salustinus, to take that church down, and to erect in its room one more large and stately, which, at the instance of the Pope Leo, was richly adorned, and endowed by the Empress Placidia, and doubtless, hath received great additions ever since, from age to age.

Thus was brought up, became converted, and a preacher of the gospel, and thus was put to death and buried, this great apostle of the Gentiles, superior in learning and natural parts, and not inferior in zeal to any of the rest of the apostles.

THE

LIFE AND DEATH

OF

JUDAS ISCARIOT,

OR THE

LOST AND UNDONE

SON OF PERDITION.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE LOST

AND

UNDONE SON OF PERDITION.

It is to be observed, that the Scripture makes mention of three Judases; the first is Judas Maccabeus; the second Judas the son of Joseph, the reputed father of our Lord; and third, Judas Iscariot, the son of a Tanner, living in repute at Joppa, or Japho, a beautiful sea-port on the west of Canaan, about thirty-four miles North west of Jerusalem, from which it was seen, as it stood on a hill amidst a delightful plain. Here Peter restored Dorcas to life, and received the messages of Cornelius. In the time of the Antichristian war of the Croisades, or Crusades, Lewis of France, and Godfrey of Boulogne, and others, repaired and adorned it; but in these unhappy times, what was one year a beautiful city, was oft in the next a heap of ruins. At present, and for ages past, it hath but a bad harbour, and is remarkable for nothing but ruinous remains of antiquity. This Judas who betrayed our Lord, was his mother’s first child, who dreamed that the child in her womb would prove both a thief and a murderer, and bring her and her generation to shame and disgrace: which so terrified her, that she was like to go distracted; but her husband strove to pacify her, bidding her leave it to God the wise disposer of all things, who may take it away in its infancy or endue it with more grace than ever to be guilty of such dishonourable actions.—This somewhat quieted her, and she was soon after delivered of a lovely male child; but under his left breast was the following curious marks viz. a cross, a gallows, two daggers, and several pieces of money: this likewise terrified his mother, who concealed it from her husband, determining, as soon as she was able, to go to a magician and know the signification of these surprising marks. The child being circumcised, and she purified, according to the old Jewish custom, she dressed herself in disguise, put a veil on her face, and taking with her a kinswoman, went to the magician’s, and being introduced to him, she related her dream, her fears and the marks upon her son, desiring the interpretation of the dream, and the signification of the marks.

The magician replied, I am no interpreter of dreams, neither do I justly know the signification of marks; and the whole of your story appears as strange to me, as it can be amazing to you; but if you can tell me when the child was born, I will calculate its nativity, and see what it pretends. He then called for pen, ink, and paper, and sitting down, calculated his nativity; and when he had finished it, he shook his head, and his countenance waxed pale; which being perceived by Judas’s mother, she said unto him, do not deceive me, but tell me true, hide nothing from me, whether it be good or evil.—Then, said the magician, to your sorrow, I have seen the rules of the planet that reigned predominant at your son’s birth, that he would prove a thief and a murderer, and what is worse, he will, for lucre, betray the Lord of Life; for which act he will afterwards despair of mercy, lay violent hands on himself and come to a shameful end.—These words pierced the mother’s heart, who wringing her hands, wished she had never been born, rather than to have been the mother of such an unhappy child; and asked the magician what she could do to prevent the bringing of shame or disgrace on her family? He told her he knew no way of prevention, but by laying violent hands on it, which might be now easily done in its infancy and in a manner so as not to be discovered. To this she replied, that she would not for ten thousand worlds commit such an act of violence on her son; for if her husband had the least suspicion of it, he was so fond of Judas, that he would never be reconciled to her any more; yet for the sake of her family, she would by some means or other prevent it without destroying it; and then told the magician, that if she had a small boat made like a shell, with a cover to go down close that no water might get in, and a little vent to let in air at the top, and room in it to lie soft and easy, she might without danger send him down the river Jordan, and so commit him wholly to the protection of providence, which might conduct him to some distant shore, into the hands of some tender persons, and thereby preserve his life; and if he afterwards commits those base actions the shame will fall on his own head, as no one will know from whom he is descended. The magician highly commended her for her invention, and said he would procure such a boat for her; and she promising him a good reward for his assistance, returned home. After she was gone, the magician sent for one Rot, a very cunning Artist, a Joiner by trade, who undertook to make the boat, drawing out with his pencil, the form of it, carried it home with him, wrought upon it in private, and having soon finished it, brought it to the magician’s house, who paid him largely for it, and sent a servant to the house of Simon, who told Judas’s mother, that the matter which his master and she spoke of was now finished. She understanding him, went next morning to the magician’s house, viewed the boat, and liked it well, saying it was very convenient for the end intended, but seemed perplexed how she should do it privately, and keep it from discovery, as death was the consequence thereof. Her kinswoman begged her to leave that to her, and all should be safe enough; for we will feign the child sick for a day or two, in the meantime we will make some inquiry in the city for the dead body of some poor male child which we will buy of its parents, and have it privately brought to our house to be buried; in the meantime we will dispatch your son to sea, and make him believe the other child to be his, and that he died during his absence; so having it buried, the matter can never be brought to light.

The mother liked the contrivance, and going home with a promise Of a great reward, and her friendship for life, she swore her servants to secrecy, and then said she, we must act in this manner. When your master comes home at night, I shall put on very dejected looks, and When he asks the cause, I shall tell him that Judas is not well, and that I am apprehensive of his death, which you must all testify and confirm. She accordingly put this scheme into practice at night, when her husband did all he could to comfort her, telling her that they were young, they might, be parents of many children: and going up stairs to see the child, the maid then pinched its neck till it was black in the face, and thinking it in convulsions, gave it over to death. As soon as he was gone out in the morning, the mother and kinswoman took the child and went to the magician’s house, in order to put the child to sea. They put on him many warm and rich garments, with an upper coat of oil, that no water might penetrate it; and the magician, on a piece of parchment, wrote the following words:

MY NAME IS JUDAS.

which his mother sewed round his neck and put him into the boat, and shut down the cover. At parting with the child the mother was almost distracted, wringing her hands and weeping bitterly, but being comforted by the magician and her kinswoman she was at last pacified, and desired to go home, as she could not bear to see the child put into the water, so she and her kinswoman departed home. The magician then took the boat and carried it down to his own garden, at the foot of which ran the river Jordan, and putting it in where a strong stream ran, it was soon carried out of sight.

The mother when she got home fainted away, but was revived by being informed by her maid servant, that during her absence they had almost brought the matter to a close, having found a neighbour’s male child, who had died the day before, and was just of the same age as Judas, for whose body they had given the parents a small sum of money, and paid the expense of burying a coffin full of bones, by way of a blind: and the only thing that remained was to deceive her husband, and get this child buried under the sanction of Judas’s body.

The father coming home at night, and finding his wife in tears, soon guessed the dismal cause; and inquiring of the servants, they with dissembled grief informed him, that the child died in the morning soon after his departure. The man was much affected with the loss of his child, and thinking to prevent his wife’s grief by the sight of the body he had it removed to a kinsman’s house, and in a day or two interred it from thence, supposing it to be his son Judas.

By this time Providence had conducted Judas, alive and well, unto the coast of Iscariot, a kingdom in Palestine, where Pheophilus the king often used to recreate himself, in beholding the ships pass and repass at sea. It happened that the very day that Judas was cast on the coast, the king and his nobles came on that diversion, and as they were standing on the top of the rock, looking into the sea, the king espied a little boat floating upon the water, and thinking it to be a chest of some wrecked ship, he ordered a servant to put out a boat and fetch it; which being done, and brought to the king, he ordered it to be broken open; when to their great surprise, they found a lovely babe, who look’d up, and smiled in the king’s face. Then said the king to the child, welcome as my own child; and expressed much joy in being providentially sent to preserve the babe’s life, and taking it up in his arms, said if thou wert a child begat by me, I could not esteem or value thee more. Then he espied about its neck the aforementioned parchment, viz:

MY NAME IS JUDAS.

Well, said the king, as thy name is Judas, I will now double name thee, and then called him Judas Iscariot, because he found him near the coast of that name. He was then brought to court, treated as the king’s own child, and at a proper age educated well, and at last became a man of learning and genius and behaved himself so wisely, that the king made him his principal steward.

Judas being arrived at this rank, still coveted greater, and remembering the queen one day said, that if the prince, her son died, Judas should be her heir, he therefore set about contriving to kill him, accordingly he professed great love and friendship for him; and one day being walking together, Judas took occasion to quarrel with the prince, and maliciously slew him, thinking all would go well with him if he was dead.

Behold the serpent, which the king

Long nourished in his breast,

Grown warm, strikes forth his baneful sting,

And robb’d him of his rest.

Though none accused him of the murder, yet his conscience so stung him, that he soon quitted the kingdom, leaving all his pomp and finery behind him, and changing his name, took upon him the mean employ of a servant, wandering about from place to place, until at length he arrived at Joppa, the place of his nativity; here he soon got a place in a nobleman’s family, where he behaved so well as to gain the esteem of his lord and lady, and all that knew him. One day it happened that as his lady was walking abroad big with child, she longed for some fruit, which she saw in Judas’s father’s garden, bidding him go and buy her some. He took the money, but was resolved to steal the fruit; and going to the garden, broke down the fences, which as he was doing his father came out, and seized him for the robbery; and Judas to extricate himself from the hand of justice murdered his father upon the spot, and immediately escaped to Theba, a city about seventy-six leagues distance. Here he continued four years, in which time the noise of the murder being blown over, he returned back again, and got another place in a nobleman’s family, where he lived sometime, till his own mother accidentally seeing him fell in love with and married him.

About five years after they had been married, one morning in bed Judas’s shirt bosom lay open, when she saw under his left breast the marks he was born with; upon which she waked him in an agony, and told him the whole story of his birth, and the part she had acted therein. Judas heard this with wonder and astonishment, and on his part confessed to her the many crimes he had been guilty of; after which she desired him to depart from her, and seek mercy of God in another country; protesting she would never be carnally known to him any more.

Judas full of grief and remorse of conscience, left Joppa, and wandered about like a pilgrim, till he heard of a mighty prophet, called Jesus of Nazareth, in the land of Judea, who wrought many miracles, and wonderful works; to him he went, and liking his doctrine and seeing his miracles, he begged of our Lord to be admitted one of his followers: Our Saviour chose him to be one of his disciples, and gave him the charge of what money or provision he carried about with him. There is no evidence that his religious instructions, or his preaching the word, or miracles, were inferior to those of his brethren: but covetousness still reigned in his heart. Notwithstanding all this Judas could not forget his covetousness, for when Mary Magdalene brought a box of costly ointment, to anoint our dear Lord’s feet, at the house of Simon the Leper, Judas was highly offended thereat, because the value thereof was not put into his bag. But our Lord knowing his covetous and wicked heart, sharply rebuked him; at which he was so enraged, that he in revenge premeditated, and put into execution, the worst action of all his life, and going to the chief priests and elders, he said unto them, what will you give me, and I will betray him they call Jesus into your hands? And they agreed with him for thirty pieces of silver; or £3, 8s. 5d. English money.

The love of money is a rock

Which causes care and trouble,

And he that hasteth to be rich,

He makes his sorrows double.

Money’s a most alluring bait,

Conducive unto evil,

For this base Judas sold his God,

Himself unto the devil.

When our Lord was instituting his last supper, he said unto his disciples, I have chosen you twelve, but one of you is a devil. And again, Verily I say unto you, one of you this night shall betray me, and he it is unto whomsoever I shall give a sop: then giving a sop unto Judas, he said unto him what thou dost do quickly. With the sop the devil entered into Judas, and he went out from amongst them.—Judas then went to the chief priests, and received the thirty pieces of silver; so taking with him an armed band of men, to apprehend his master, He led them to the Garden, of Gethsemane where Jesus was wont to retire for his devotion; he went telling them, that whomsoever he should kiss, the same was he, hold him fast. There our Lord beheld his adversaries coming with burning torches and lanterns, and weapons to apprehend him; then spake he to his disciples, and said, “Rise let us go; behold he is at hand that will betray me.” And while he was speaking, came Judas the traitor, saying, Hail, Master, and kissed him. For it is written, that it was the manner and custom of our Lord Jesus towards his disciples, that when at any time he had sent them out, at their return again, he would receive them with a loving kiss. Then they laid hands on the Lord, and bound him as a thief and a murderer, and led him away to the high Priest and Elders, who asked him many questions; to which our Lord gave them no answer, but stood like a lamb dumb before his shearers. And here let us behold our Lord Jesus, how patiently and meekly he receives that false and treacherous kiss from that unfaithful disciple, whose feet he had vouchsafed to wash with his own hands, and whom out of his unspeakable charity he refused not to feed with the precious food of his blessed body. Consider likewise how meekly he suffered himself to be taken, bound, struck, and furiously dragged away, as if he had been a thief, or the most wicked person in the world, void of power to help himself. Contemplate also the great sorrow and inward affliction he had of his disciples, who fled and left him in the hands of those ravenous wolves. And on the other side, consider the grief of their hearts, since the cause of their leaving him was not the perversity of their will, but the frailty of their weak nature: for which they heartily mourn and sigh, like poor orphans that know not what they do, or whither to go; and their sorrow was so much the greater, as they knew in what villanous manner their Lord and master would be treated and abused. Nevertheless, the whole assembly, though they found nothing worthy of death in him, one by one passed the following sentences on him.

JERUSALEM’S

BLACK TRIBUNAL;

OR THE

BLOODY SENTENCE OF THE JEWS,

AGAINST

OUR BLESSED LORD AND SAVIOUR,

JESUS CHRIST.

CAIPHAS.

Better one man should die, than all perish.

JEHOSOPHAT.

Let him be bound, and kept fast in chains.

RAPHAR.

Let us put him to death.

FAREAS.

Let us banish him, or he will destroy our country.

DIARRHIAS.

He is worthy of death, because he seduceth the people.

RABINTH.

Guilty or not, let the seducer die.

LESSA.

Let us banish him for ever.

CHIERIES.

If he be innocent he shall die, because he stirreth up the people.

PTOLEMEUS.

Guilty or not guilty, let us sentence him to death or punishment.

TERAS.

Either banish him, or send him unto Cæsar.

LEMECH.

Punish him with death.

POTIPHARES.

Let him be banished for seducing the people.

The mob also cried out to Pontius Pilate, if you let this man go, you are not Cæsar’s friend; therefore, crucify him! crucify him!

THE

SENTENCE OF DEATH

PASSED ON

JESUS CHRIST

BY

PONTIUS PILATE.

I PONTIUS PILATE, Judge in Jerusalem under the most potent Tiberius, happy and prosperous be his reign, having heard and known the accusation of JESUS OF NAZARETH, whom the Jews brought bound, to pronounce his sentence; seeing he, by presumptuous expressions, called himself the SON of GOD and the KING of the JEWS, and said he would destroy the TEMPLE of Solomon. Let him be condemned to the cross with the two Thieves.

Thus was the Lord of Life condemn’d,

On Calv’ry’s mount to die,

As Moses’ Serpent so was he

There lifted up on high.

’Twas not for sins that were his own,

He there shed forth his blood,

But that such sinners vile as we,

Might be brought near to God.

Let us obey the gospel call,

Now while it is to-day,

Lest ere to-morrow Death should cry,

To judgment come away.

MISERABLE AND AWFUL END OF THE TRAITOR JUDAS.

Now Judas, the Traitor, had no sooner seen his master condemned by the Jewish council, than his conscience upbraided him; he brought back the thirty pieces of silver, and confessed he had betrayed his innocent master. But the Jewish rulers replied, that that was none of their business, he might blame himself. And he threw back the thirty pieces of silver and went out and hanged himself; but the rope breaking, or the tree giving way, he fell and his body burst asunder, and his bowels gushed out. Then the Jews, as they thought the price of blood was not fit for the Treasury, they, as agents for Judas, gave it for the Potters-field to bury strangers in.

Tho’ Judas ’mongst the Apostles was

And with them took his part,

His awful end proved him to be

A traitor in his heart.

On the Evening after our Lord’s resurrection he appeared unto ten of the apostles, Judas being dead, and Thomas absent: he renewed their mission, and breathed on them, as a token of his sending the Holy Ghost. After giving them repeated proofs of his resurrection, he just before his ascension gave them a formal commission, saying, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” After they had witnessed their master’s departure to the heavenly mansions, Peter proposed, that one who had been a constant witness of his marvellous sufferings and conduct, should be chosen to fill the room of Judas. The disciples chose Barsabas and Matthias for the candidates. As the office was extraordinary, and perhaps the votes equal, the final determination, which of the two should be the apostle, was left to the decision of God by the lot. After prayer, the lots were cast, and it fell upon Matthias: he was therefore numbered with the eleven apostles.

On the day of Pentecost, a feast appointed to commemorate the giving of the law, the Holy Ghost, in the shape of cloven tongues of fire, descended on each of them; rendered them bold and infallible in preaching the gospel; qualified them with power, to speak in every language, to discern men’s tempers, and to confer the miraculous influence of speaking with tongues on others, by the laying on of hands.

Learn hence a lot’s a sacred thing,

Let’s not it vanity use,

Since God thereby has oft thought fit,

To choose and to refuse.

Let’s be content with what’s our lot,

Since God to us it gave,

Let’s pray that Christ may be the gift,

Greater can’t sinners have.

Correspondent to the twelve patriarchs, or twelve tribes of Israel, our Saviour, in the second or third year of his public ministry, first appointed, and then sent forth twelve of his followers, whom he named Apostles. These he sent out by two’s,

SIMON PETER, and ANDREW his brother;

JAMES the son of ZEBEDEE, and JOHN his brother;

PHILIP, and BARTHOLOMEW;

THOMAS, and MATTHEW;

JAMES the son of ALPHEUS, and JUDE his brother;

SIMON the Canaanite, and JUDAS ISCARIOT;

MATTHIAS, succeeded Judas after the resurrection of our Lord.

ASCENSION

OF

OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST.

Touching the wonderful ascension of our Lord Jesus, it behoves thee, pious reader, to awaken thy heart, and render thyself with more than ordinarly attention to all that is here said or done, relating to this subject, if thou desire to feed thy soul with heavenly comfort, and reap the spiritual unction, which plentifully flows from the devout contemplation of so divine a subject.

On the fortieth day after the resurrection, our Lord Jesus, knowing that his time was now come to depart from this world, and to pass hence to his Father, taking with him the holy patriarchs, prophets, and others, who after his resurrection were in the terrestrial paradise, and blessing Enoch and Elias, who remained there still alive, he came, to his apostles, who were gathered together on Mount Sion, which was the place where he made his last supper the night before his passion. There were likewise with the apostles at this place, the blessed Virgin, and many other disciples; and our Lord appearing to them said, that he would eat with them before he departed from them, as a special token and memorial of the love he bore them. And as they were all eating, being full of joy and spiritual comfort at this last refection of our Lord Jesus, he said to them, “The time is now come in which I must return again to him that sent me: but you shall remain in the city till you are clothed with the virtue descending from above; for within a few days you shall be filled with the Holy Ghost, as I before promised you. After which, you shall be dispersed throughout the whole world, to preach my gospel, baptizing all that shall believe in me, so that you shall be my witnesses to the utmost confines of the earth.” He likewise reproved them for their incredulity in not believing them who had seen him rise, that is the angels. This he chose to do at the time he was speaking to them of preaching his gospel, to give them to understand, that they ought to have believed the angels, even before they saw him, much sooner than they ought to be believed by those to whom they were to preach, who, nevertheless, would believe them (the apostles) though they should not see him, (Jesus Christ.) And this he did, that by knowing their fault they might remain humble; shewing them at his departure how much he admired that virtue, and that he recommended it to them in a singular manner. They asked him concerning many things that were to come to pass; but he would not resolve them, inasmuch as it was not necessary for them to know the secrets of God, which his father had reserved in his own power, to fulfill at his own will and pleasure. And thus they continued discoursing and eating together, with great comfort and satisfaction, occasioned by the presence of their Lord; yet their comfort was mixed with some grief, by reason of his departure from them. For they loved him so tenderly, that they could not hear him speak of leaving them without heaviness and sorrow.

And what can we think of his blessed Mother? May we not devoutly imagine that, sitting near him, and hearing what he said concerning his departure, she was moved with the tenderness of her motherly affection; and that overcome with grief, which suddenly seized, and oppressed her blessed soul, she inclined her head towards him, and rested it upon his sacred breast! For, if John the Evangelist at the last supper, took this freedom, with much more reason may we suppose her to do the same on this doleful occasion. Hence, then, with tears, and many sighs, she spoke to him in this manner: “Oh my beloved son, I beseech thee not to leave me; but if thou must depart, and return again to thy heavenly Father, take me, thy afflicted Mother, along with thee!” But our blessed Lord endeavoured to comfort her, and said, “Grieve not, oh beloved parent, at my leaving you because I go to my Father; and it is expedient that you remain here a short time longer, to confirm in their faith, such as shall be converted, and believe in me, and afterwards I will come again, and take you with me, to be a partaker of my glory.” To whom again, our Lady replied, “My beloved Son, may thy will always be fulfilled in all things, for I am not only contented to remain here during thy pleasure, but also, to suffer death for love of those souls, for which thou hast so willingly vouchsafed to lay down thy life: this, however, I beseech thee, be thou ever mindful of me.” Our Lord then again comforted her, with the disciples, and Mary Magdalene, saying, “Let not your hearts be troubled, nor fear ye any thing, I will not leave you desolate; I go, but will shortly return again to you, and will remain always with you.” At length he bid them remove from thence, and go to Mount Olivet, because from that place he would ascend into heaven, in the presence of them all: saying this, he disappeared.

His holy Mother, with the rest of the company, without any delay, hastened to the said mount, about a mile distant from Jerusalem, as he had appointed them, where our Lord again soon appeared to them. Behold on this day we have two different apparitions of our Lord. Thus being all together, our Lord embraced his holy Mother, and she again embraced him in a most tender manner, taking leave of each other. And the disciples, Mary Magdalene, and the rest falling down to the ground, and weeping with tenderness, kissed his blessed feet, and he, raising them up, embraced all his apostles most lovingly.

Let us now, pious reader, diligently consider them, and devoutly contemplate all that is here done; and amongst the rest, let us behold the holy Fathers, who being there present though invisible, joyfully admire, and inwardly praise the blessed Virgin, by whom they received so great a benefit as their salvation. They behold with pleasing admiration, the glorious champions, and leaders of God’s hosts, the apostles, whom our Lord Jesus had chosen from among all others, to conquer and subdue the world, and bring it over to the belief of his holy doctrine.

At length, when the mysteries were all fulfilled and completed, our Lord Jesus began gradually to raise himself up before them, and to ascend by his own virtue and power into heaven. And then the blessed Virgin, with the rest, fell down and devoutly worshipped him. And our Lady said, “O my beloved, I beseech thee to be mindful of me,” and with this she burst into tears, not being able to refrain, when she reflected on his departure, yet was she full of inward joy, to see her blessed Son thus gloriously ascend into heaven. His disciples also, when they beheld him ascending, said, “Thou knowest, O Lord, that we have renounced all things for thee, wherefore, we beseech thee not to forget us, but be ever mindful of us, for whom we have forsaken all.” Then our Lord lifting up his hands, with serene and pleasing aspect, crowned with glory, victoriously ascended into heaven, but first blessing them, he said, “Be stedfast, and fight courageously, for I shall always be with you, even to the end of the world.”

Thus, our Lord Jesus, ascended into heaven, fulfilling that which the prophet Micah had said long before his ascension; And their King shall pass before them, and the Lord at the head of them. So that they all followed him with unspeakable joy, and never-ending felicity.

And Michael, the prince of God’s celestial host, going before, carried the joyful tidings of their Lord’s ascending, at which the whole heavenly court of celestial spirits came forth to meet their Lord, and with all worship and reverence, they led him with hymns and songs of jubilation, repeating with inexpressible joy, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

Having paid their due reverence to the Lord, and ended the joyful canticles, which related to his glorious Ascension, the angels began to rejoice with each other. And what tongue can express, or mind conceive, that which passed between them at this happy meeting? The blessed spirits began to congratulate them on their arrival, saying: “Ye princes of God’s people, you are welcome to our eternal habitation, and we rejoice and are glad at your arrival: you all are gathered together, and wonderfully exalted with our God; Alleluia. Therefore rejoice and sing to him who so gloriously ascended into heaven, and above the heaven of heavens: Alleluia.”

To which the Fathers again joyfully replied, “To you, princes of God’s people, Alleluia: Our guardians and helpers, Alleluia: Joy and peace for ever, Alleluia: Let us sing and make mirth to our King and our Saviour, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia. Now we joyfully enter into the house of our Lord, Alleluia: to remain for ever in the glorious city of God, Alleluia. As sheep of our Lord’s pasture we enter his gates, Alleluia: With hymns and canticles, Alleluia: For the Lord of power is with us, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.” For according to the prophet, The Lord is ascending in shouts of joy, and the Lord in the sound of a trumpet.

Our Lord Jesus ascended visibly for the greater comfort of his mother and disciples, that they might see him as far as they could. And behold a cloud received him out of their sight, and in an instant they were present in heaven! And as the blessed Virgin and the disciples were looking still up to heaven, two angels stood beside them in white garments, who began to comfort them, telling them not to look longer after his body, which they saw ascend so gloriously into heaven, for that they should not see him any more in that form till the day of Judgment, when he should come to judge the quick and the dead. They bid them return into the city again, and there to expect the coming of the Holy Ghost, as he himself had told them. His blessed Mother spoke to the angels, desiring them to recommend her to her blessed son; who profoundly inclining to her, promised gladly to fulfil her commands. And the apostles and Mary Magdalene recommended themselves in the same manner. After this, the angels departing, they went according as they had been appointed into the city, unto Mount Sion, and waited there the coming of the Holy Ghost.

FINIS.

THE

WIFE OF BEITH:

BEING

AN ALLEGORICAL DIALOGUE.

CONTAINING

NOTHING BUT WHAT IS RECORDED IN SCRIPTURE.

GLASGOW:

PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

WIFE OF BEITH.

In Beith once dwelt a worthy wife,

Of whom brave Chaucer mention makes

She lived a licentious life,

And namely in venereal acts

But death did come for all her cracks;

When years were spent and days out driven.

Then suddenly she sickness takes,

Deceased forthwith, and went to heaven.

But as she went upon the way,

There followed her a certain guide,

And kindly to her he did say,

Where mean you, dame, for to abide?

I know you are the wife of Beith,

And would not then that you go wrong,

For I’m your friend, and will be leath

That you go through this narrow throng;

This way is broader, go with me,

And very pleasant is the way;

I’ll bring you there, where you would be,

Go with me friend, say me not nay.

She looked on him, then did speer,

I pray you, Sir, what is your name?

Shew me the way how came you here?

To tell to me it is no shame.

Is that a favour ’bout your neck?

And what is that upon your side?

I knew you by your colours first,

Is it a bag or silver sack?

What are you then? where do you bide?

I was a servant unto Christ,

And Judas likewise is my name.

Forsooth indeed you are to blame:

Your Master did you not betray?

And hang yourself when you had done?

Where’er you bide I will not stay

Go then, you knave, let me alone.

Whatever I be, I’ll be your guide,

Because you know not well the way.

What would you me, where do you dwell?

I have no will to go with thee:

I fear it is some lower cell,

I pray thee therefore let me be.

I know your way it is to hell,

For you are none of the eleven:

Go haste you then unto your cell,

My way is only unto heaven.

That way is by the gates of hell,

If you intend there for to go,

Go, dame, I will not you compel,

But I with you will go also,

Where smoke and darkness did abound,

And pitch and sulphur burned still,

With yells and cries hills did rebound,

The fiend himself came to the gate,

And asked him where he had been?

Do ye not know and have forgot,

Seeking his wife could not be seen.

Good dame, he said, would you be here,

I pray you then tell me your name?

The wife of Beith, since that you speer,

But to come in I were to blame.

I will not have you here good dame,

For you were mistress of the flyting,

If once within this gate you come,

I will be troubled with your bitings

Cummer, go back, and let me be,

Here are too many of your rout,

For women lewd like unto thee,

I cannot turn my foot about.

Sir, thief, I say I shall bide out,

But gossip thou wast ne’er to me,

For to come in, I’m not so stout,

And of my biting thou’st be free:

But, Lucifer, what’s that on thee,

Hast thou no water in this place?

Thou look’st so black, it seems to me

Thou ne’er dost wash thy ugly face.

If we had water for to drink,

We should not care for washing then,

Into these flames and filthy stink,

We burn with fire unto the doom:

Upbraid me then, good wife, no more,

For first when I heard of the name,

I knew thou hast such names in store,

Would make the devil to think shame.

Forsooth, Sir thief, thou art to blame,

If I had time now for to bide

Once you were well, but may think shame,

That lost heaven for rebellious pride,

Who traitor-like fell with the rest,

Because you would not be content,

And now of bliss are dispossest,

Without all grace for to repent,

Thou mad’st poor Eve for to consent

To eat of the forbidden tree;

(Which we poor daughters may relent

And made us almost like to thee;)

But God be blest who passed thee by.

And did a Saviour provide,

For Adam’s whole posterity,

All those who do in him confide.

Adieu, false fiend, I may not bide,

With thee I may no longer stay;

My God in death he was my guide,

O’er hell I’ll get the victory.

Then up the hill the poor wife went,

Oppressed with stinking flames and fear.

Weeping right sore with great relent,

For to go else she wist not where:

A narrow way with thorns and briers,

And full of mires was her before,

She sighed oft with sobs and tears,

The poor wife’s heart was wonderous sore,

Tired and torn she went on still,

Sometimes she sat, and sometimes fell,

Aye till she came to a high hill,

And then she looked back to hell,

When that she had climbed up the hill,

Before her was a goodly plain;

Where she did rest and weep her fill.

Then rose she to her feet again,

Her heart was glad the way was good,

Up to the hill she hy’d with haste,

The flowers were fair, where that she stood

The fields were pleasant to her taste.

Then she espied Jerusalem,

On Sion’s mount where that it stood

Shining with gold light as the sun,

Her silly soul was then right glad;

The ports were pearls shining bright,

Glorious it was for to behold,

With precious stones give such a light,

The walls were of transparent gold.

High were the walls, the gates were shut.

And long she thought for to be in

But then for fear of biding out,

She knocked hard and made some din.

To knock and cry she did not spare.

Till father Adam did her hear;

Who is’t that raps so rudely there,

Heaven cannot well be won by weir.

The wife of Beith that you speer,

Hath stood these two hours at the gate.

Go back, saith he, you must forbear,

Here may no sinners entrance get.

Adam, quoth she, I shall be in,

In spite of all such churls as thee:

Thou’rt the original of all sin,

For eating of the forbidden tree:

For which thou art not flyting free,

But for thy foul offences fled.

Adam went back and let her be;

Looking as if his nose had bled.

Then mother Eve did at him speer

Who was it that made such a din?

He said a woman would be here,

For me, I durst not let her in.

I’ll go, said she, and ask her will,

Her company I would have fain;

But aye she cried and knocked still,

And in no ways she would refrain.

Daughter, said Eve, you will do well,

And come again another time

Heaven is not won by sword or steel,

Nor one that’s guilty of a crime.

Mother, said she, the fault is thine,

That knocking here so long I stand:

Thy guilt is more than that of mine,

If thou wilt rightly understand,

Our misery thou didst begin,

By thee thy husband was deceived.

Eve went back where Noah was,

And told him all how she was blam’d,

Of her great sin and first trespass,

Whereof she was so much ashamed.

Then Noah said, I will go down,

And will forbid her that she knock;

Go back, he said, ye drunken lown,

You’re none of the celestial flock.

Noah, she said, hold thou thy piece,

Where I drank ale, thou didst drink wine,

Discovered was to thy disgrace,

When thou wast full like to a swine:

If I was drunk I learned at thee,

For thou’rt the father and the first,

That others taught, and likewise me,

To drink when we as had no thirst.

Then Noah turned back with speed,

And told the Patriarch Abraham then,

How that the carlin made him dread,

And how she all his deeds did ken.

Abraham then said, now get you gone,

Let us no more hear of your din

No lying wife as I suppone,

May enter in these gates within.

Abraham, she said, will you but spare,

I hope you are not flyting free;

You of yourself had such a care,

Denied your wife and made a lie;

O then I pray you let me be,

For I repent of all my sin,

Do thou but open the gates to me,

And let me quietly come in.

Abraham went back to Jacob then,

And told his nephew how he sped,

How that of her he nothing wan,

And that he thought the carlin mad.

Then down came Jacob throu’ the close,

And said, go backward down to hell:

Jacob, quoth she, I know thy voice,

That gate pertaineth to thy sell

Of thy old trumperies I can tell,

With two sisters thou led’st thy life

And the third part of these tribes twelve,

Thou got with maid’s besides thy wife:

And stole thy father’s bennison,

Only by fraud thy father frae;

Gave thou not him for venison,

A kid, instead of baked rae.

Jacob himself was tickled so,

He went to Lot where he was lying,

And to the gate he pray’d him to go,

To staunch the carling of her crying.

Lot says fair dame, make less ado,

And come again another day.

Old harlot carle and drunkard too,

Thou with thine own two daughters lay,

Of thine untimely seed I say,

Proceeded never good but ill.

Poor Lot, for shame then stole away,

And left the wife to knock her fill.

Meek Moses then went down at last,

To pacify the carling then;

Now, dame, said he, knock not so fast,

Your knocking will not let you ben.

Good Sir, said she I am aghast,

When that I look you in the face;

If that your law till now did last,

Then surely I had ne’er got grace:

But, Moses, Sir, now by your leave,

Although in heaven thou be possest

For all you saw, did not believe.

But you in Horeb there transgres

Wherefore by all it is confest,

You got but once the land to see,

And in the mount was put to rest,

Yea burned there where, you did die.

Then Aaron said, you whorish wife,

Go get you gone and rap no more;

With idols you have led your life,

Or then you shall repent it sore.

Good Aaron Priest, I know you well,

The golden calf you may remember,

Who made the people plagues to see,

This is of you recorded ever;

Your priesthood now is nothing worth,

Christ is my only priest and he,

My Lord who will not keep me forth,

So I’ll get in, in spite of thee.

Up started Samson at the length,

Unto the gate apace came he,

To drive away the wife with’s strength,

But all in vain it would not be.

Samson, says she, the world may see,

Thou wast a Judge who proved unjust,

Those gracious gifts which God gave thee,

Thou lost them by licentious lust.

From Dalila thy wicked wife,

The secrets chief couldst nor refrain,

She daily sought to take thy life,

Thou lost thy locks and then was slain,

Tho’ thou wast strong it was in vain,

Haunting with harlots here and there.

Then Samson turned back again,

And with the wife would mell nae mair.

Then said king David, knock no more.

We are all troubled with your cry.

David, quoth she, how cam’st thou there,

Thou might’st bide out as well as I:

Thy deeds no ways thou can’st deny,

Is not thy sin far worse than mine,

Who with Uriah’s wife did lie,

And caused him to be murdered syne?

Then Jonas said, fair dame content you,

If you intend to come to grace,

You must dree pennance and repent you,

Ere you can come within this place.

Jonas, quoth she, how stands the case?

How came you here to be with Christ?

How dare you look him in the face?

Considering how you broke your tryst?

So Jonas then he was ashamed,

Because he was not flyting free,

Of all his faults she had him blamed,

He left the wife and let her be.

Saint Thomas then, I counsel thee

Go speak unto yon wicked wife,

She shames us all and as for me,

Her like I never heard in life.

Thomas, then said, you make such strife,

When you are out, and meikle din,

If ye were here I’ll lay my life,

No peace the saints will get within,

It is your trade far to be flyting,

Still in a fever as one raves,

No marvel though you wives be biting,

Your tongues are made of aspen leaves.

Thomas, quoth she, let be your taunts,

You play the pick-thank I perceive,

Tho’ you be brother’d ’mong the saints,

An unbelieving heart you have

Thou brought’st the Lord unto the grave,

But would’st no more with him remain,

And wast the last of all the lave

That did believe he rose again.

There might no doctrine do thee good,

No miracles make thee confide,

Till thou beheld Christ’s wounds and blood,

And putt’st thy hands into his side;

Didst thou not daily with him bide,

And see the wonders which he wrought?

But blest are they who do confide,

And do believe, yet saw him not;

Thomas, she says, will ye but speer,

If that my sister Magdelene,

Will come to me, if she be here;

For comforts sure you give me nane.

He was so blythe and turned back,

And thanked God that she was gane;

He had no will to hear her crack,

But told it Mary Magdalene.

When that she heard her sister’s mocks,

She went unto the gate with speed;

And asked her who’s there that knocks;

’Tis I the wife of Beith indeed.

She said, good mistress, you must stand

Till you be tried by tribulation.

Sister, quoth she, give me your hand

Are we not both of one vocation;

It is not through your occupation,

That you are placed so divine,

My faith is fixed on Christ’s passion,

My soul shall be as safe as thine.

Then Mary went away in haste,

The carling made her so ashamed,

She had no will of such a guest,

To lose her pains and be so blamed.

Now good Saint Paul, said Magdalene,

For that you are a learned man,

Go and convince this woman then,

For I have done all that I can;

Sure if she were in hell, I doubt

They would not keep her long there,

But to the gate would put her out,

And send her back to be elsewhere.

Then went the good apostle Paul,

To put the wife in better tune,

Wash off that filth that files thy soul,

Then shalt heaven’s gates be opened soon.

Remember, Paul, what thou hast done,

For all the epistles thou didst compile,

Though now thou sittest up above,

Thou persecuted’st Christ a while.

Woman, he said, thou art not right,

That which I did, I did not know;

But thou didst sin with all thy might,

Although the preachers did thee show.

Saint Paul, she said, it is not so

I did not know so well as ye,

But I will to my Saviour go,

Who will his favour shew to me.

You think you are of flyting free,

Because you was rapt up above,

But yet it was Christ’s grace to thee,

And matchlessness of his dear love.

Then Paul, says she, let Peter come,

If he be lying let him rise,

To him I will confess my sin,

And let him quickly bring the keys,

Too long I stand, he’ll let me in,

For why I cannot longer tarry,

Then shall ye all be quit of din,

For I must speak with good saint Mary.

Peter, said she, let Christ arise,

And grant me mercy in my need;

For why I ne’er deny’d him thrice,

As thou thyself hast done indeed.

Thou carling bold, what’s that to thee?

I got remission for my sin;

It cost many sad tears to me,

Before I entered here within.

It will not be thy meikle din

Will cause heaven’s gates opened be,

Thou must be purified of sin,

And of all sins must be made free.

Saint Peter then, no thanks to you,

That so you were rid of your fears,

It was Christ’s gracious look, I trow,

That made you weep those bitter tears.

The door of mercy is not closed,

I may get grace as well as ye,

It is not so as ye supposed,

I will be in in spite of thee.

But wicked wife, it is too late,

Thou should’st have mourn’d on earth,

Repentance now is out of date:

It should have been before thy death,

Thou mightest then have turned wrath

To mercy then, and mercy great,

But now the Lord is very loth,

And all thy cries not worth a jot.

Ah! Peter, then, what shall I do?

He will not hear me as I hear,

Shall I despair of mercy too?

No, no, I’ll trust in mercy dear;

And if I perish, here I’ll stay

And never go from heaven bright

I’ll ever hope and always pray,

Until I get my Saviour’s sight.

I think indeed you are not right,

If you had faith you could win in;

Importune then with all your might,

Faith is the feet wherewith ye come.

It is the hands will hold him fast,

But weak faith may not presume;

’Twill let you sink, and be aghast

Strongly believe, or you’re undone.

But, good saint Peter, let me be,

Had you such faith, did it abound?

When you did walk upon the sea,

Was you not like for to be drown’d,

Had not our Saviour helped thee,

Who came and took thee by the hand,

So can my Lord do unto me,

And bring me to the promised land.

Is my faith weak? yet he is still

The same and ever shall remain;

His mercies last, and his good will,

To bring me to his flock again;

He will me help and me relieve,

And will increase my faith also,

Of weakly I can but believe,

For from this place I’ll never go.

But Peter said, how can that be,

How durst thou look him in the face.

Such horrid sinners like to thee,

Can have no courage to get grace;

Here none comes in but they that’s stout,

And suffered have for the good cause;

Like unto thee are keeped out,

For thou hast broke all Moses’ laws.

Peter, she said, I do appeal,

From Moses, and from thee also.

With him and you I’ll not prevail,

But to my Saviour I will go;

Indeed of old you were right stout;

When you did cut off Malchus’ ear;

But after that you went about;

And a poor maid then did you fear.

Wherefore, saint Peter, do forbear,

A comforter indeed you’re not;

Let me alone, I do not fear,

Take home the whistle of your groat:

Was it your own, or Paul’s good sword,

When that your courage was so keen,

You were right stout upon my word,

Then would you fain at fishing been;

For at the crowing of the cock,

You did deny your master thrice,

For all your stoutness turned a block,

Now flyte no more if ye be wise.

Yet at the last the Lord arose,

Environed with angels bright,

And to the wife in haste he goes,

Desired her soon pass out of sight.

O Lord, quoth she, cause do me right,

But not according to my sin;

Have you not promised day and night,

When sinners knock to let them in.

He said thou wrests the scriptures wrong

The night is come thou spent the day,

In whoredom thou hast lived long,

And to repent thou didst delay;

Still my commandments thou abus’dst,

And vice committedst busily,

Since now my mercy thou refus’dst,

Go down to hell eternally.

O Lord, my soul doth testify,

That I have spent my life in vain;

Ah! make a wand’ring sheep of me,

And bring me to thy flock again.

Think’st thou there is no count to crave,

Of all these gifts in thee was planted.

I gave thee beauty ’bove the lave,

A pregnant wit thou never wanted.

Master, quoth she, it must be granted,

My sins is great give me contrition:

The forlorn son when he repented,

Obtained his father full remission.

I spared my judgments many times

And spiritual pastors did thee send;

But thou renewd’st thy former crimes,

Aye more and more me to offend.

My Lord, quoth she, I do amend,

Lamenting for my former vice

The poor thief at the latter

For one word went to paradise.

The thief heard never of me teaching,

My heavenly precepts and my laws,

But thou was daily at my preachings,

Both heard and saw, and yet miskaws.

Master, quoth she, the scriptures shows,

The Jewish woman which play’d the lown,

Conform unto the Hebrew laws,

Was brought to thee to be put down,

But nevertheless thou lett’st her go,

And made the Pharisees afraid.

Indeed, says Christ it was right so,

And that my bidding was obey’d,

Woman, he said, I may not cast

The childrens’ bread to dogs like

Although my mercies yet do last,

There’s mercy here but none for thee.

But, loving Lord, may I presume

Poor worm, that I may speak again,

The dogs for hunger were undone,

And of the crumbs they were right fain,

Grant me one crumb then that did fall

From thy best childrens’ table, Lord,

That I may be refreshed withal,

It will not help enough afford.

The gates of mercy now are closed,

And thou canst hardly enter in

It is not so as thou supposed,

For thou art deadly sick in sin.

’Tis true indeed, my Lord most meek

My sore and sickness I do feel:

Yet thou the lame didst truly seek,

Who lay long at Bethseda’s pool,

Of many that thee never sought,

Like to the poor Samaritan,

Whom thou unto thy fold has brought,

Even as thou didst the widow of Nain

Most gracious God, didst thou not bid

All that were weary come to thee,

Behold, I come! even overload

With sin, have mercy upon me.

The issues of thy soul are great,

Thou art both leprous and unclean,

To be with me thou art not fit,

Go from me then, let me alone.

Let me thy garments once but touch,

My bloody issue shall be whole,

It will not cost thee very much,

To save a poor distressed soul,

Speak thou the word, I shall be whole,

One look of thee shall do me good,

Save now, good Lord, my silly soul,

Bought with thine own most precious blood

Sweet Lord my God, say me not nay,

For if I perish here I’ll die.

Poor silly wretch, then speak no more,

Thy faith, poor soul, hath saved thee;

Enter thou in unto my glore,

And rest thro’ all eternity.

How soon our Saviour these words said,

A long white robe to her was given;

And then the angels did her lead,

Forthwith within the gates of heaven:

A laurel crown set on her head,

Spangled with rubies and with gold:

A bright white palm she always had,

Glorious it was for to behold;

Her face did shine like to the sun,

Like threads of gold her hair hang down,

Her eyes like lamps unto the moon,

Of precious stones rich was her crown.

Angels and saints did welcome her,

The heavenly choir did sing, rejoice;

King David with his harp was there:

The silver bells gave a great noise.

Such music and such melody

Was never either heard or seen,

When this poor saint was placed so high,

And of all sins made freely clean;

But then when thus she was possest,

And looked back on all her fears;

And that she was come to her rest,

Free’d from all sins, and all her tears,

She from her head did take the crown,

Giving all praise to Christ on high,

And at his feet she laid it down.

For that the Lamb had made her free,

Now doth she sing triumphantly,

And shall rejoice for evermore,

O’er death and hell victoriously

With lasting pleasures laid in store.

CONCLUSION.

Of WIFE OF BEITH I make an end,

And do these lines with this conclude,

Let none their lives in sin now spend,

But watch and pray, be doing good,

Despondent souls do not despair,

Repent, and still believe in Christ,

His mercies, which last for evermore,

Will save the souls that in him trust.

FINIS.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.

Use of ‘Mr’ and ‘Mr.’, ‘St’ and ‘St.’ is sometimes inconsistent even within a Chap-book. This has not been changed.

Several missing opening quotation marks have been inserted; many missing closing quotation marks have been inserted.

Four occurrences of the French word mele have been replaced by mêlée.

Except for those changes noted below, all dialect in the text, all misspellings, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

The Life of John Knox.

Pg 5: ‘and licentions lives’ replaced by ‘and licentious lives’.

Pg 12: ‘neqhew of’ replaced by ‘nephew of’.

Pg 13: ‘I require I of your’ replaced by ‘I require of your’.

Pg 18: ‘and Dominician’ replaced by ‘and Dominican’.

Pg 21: ‘throughtout all’ replaced by ‘throughout all’.

Pg 24: ‘professsor of’ replaced by ‘professor of’.

The Life of Alexander Peden.

Pg 20: ‘of the visons’ replaced by ‘of the visions’.

Pg 20: ‘I tell the, woman’ replaced by ‘I tell thee, woman’.

Pg 24: ‘was buired in’ replaced by ‘was buried in’.

The Life of Mr Donald Cargill.

Pg 3: ‘chapter of Ezekial’ replaced by ‘chapter of Ezekiel’.

Pg 11: ‘are will- to quit’ replaced by ‘are willing to quit’.

Pg 20: ‘motion buing put’ replaced by ‘motion being put’.

Pg 23: ‘interpersed among’ replaced by ‘interspersed among’.

The Battle of Drumclog.

Pg 4: ‘deal of Aven’ replaced by ‘dale of Aven’.

Pg 12: ‘born by his men’ replaced by ‘borne by his men’.

Pg 12: ‘was born along’ replaced by ‘was borne along’.

Pg 18: ‘the plumb of’ replaced by ‘the plume of’.

Pg 21: ‘born upright by’ replaced by ‘borne upright by’.

Pg 23: ‘was born off’ replaced by ‘was borne off’.

An Elegy in Memory of Sir Robert Grierson.

Pg 14: ‘The Caneronians’ replaced by ‘The Cameronians’.

Pg 19: ‘to the revoluton’ replaced by ‘to the revolution’.

A Wedding-Ring Fit for the Finger.

Pg 6: ‘damnally sinful’ replaced by ‘damnably sinful’.

Pg 13: ‘by her alineation’ replaced by ‘by her alienation’.

Pg 20: ‘2. Choose not’ replaced by ‘3. Choose not’.

Pg 21: ‘toast on the sea’ replaced by ‘tost on the sea’.

The Pilgrim’s Progress

Pg 1: ‘PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.’ inserted after

‘GLASGOW;’ (present on every other Chap-book Title page).

Pg 3: ‘the warth to come’ replaced by ‘the wrath to come’.

Pg 24: ‘to Christianna’ replaced by ‘to Christiana’.

Divine Songs.

Pg 8: ‘Great God, with’ replaced by ‘1 Great God, with’.

Pg 15: ‘4’ replaced by ‘5’, and ‘5’ replaced by ‘4’.

Pg 18: ‘those in pla’ replaced by ‘those in play’.

Pg 22: ‘My God, who’ replaced by ‘1 My God, who’.

The Plant of Renown.

Pg 16: ‘is the deisgn’ replaced by ‘is the design’.

Honey from the Rock of Christ.

Pg 7: ‘dost on-Christ him’ replaced by ‘dost un-Christ him’.

Sins and Sorrows before God.

Pg 3: ‘in ever hour’ replaced by ‘in every hour’.

Pg 5: ‘melts and flow in’ replaced by ‘melts and flows in’.

Pg 23: ‘ancient petriarchs’ replaced by ‘ancient patriarchs’.

A Token for Mourners.

Pg 6: ‘this propossition’ replaced by ‘this proposition’.

Pg 9: ‘borne chistisement,’ replaced by ‘borne chastisement,’.

Pg 9: ‘which a see’ replaced by ‘which I see’.

Pg 9: ‘It It is meet’ replaced by ‘It is meet’.

Pg 9: ‘borne chastisment.’ replaced by ‘borne chastisement.’.

Pg 10: ‘have done inquity’ replaced by ‘have done iniquity’.

Pg 11: ‘is epen to hear’ replaced by ‘is open to hear’.

Pg 13: ‘man complain, a man for’ replaced by ‘man complain, for’.

Pg 16: ‘through nnbelief’ replaced by ‘through unbelief’.

Pg 17: ‘that has oppointed’ replaced by ‘that has appointed’.

Pg 23: ‘fron iniquity’ replaced by ‘from iniquity’.

A Prayer Book for Families and Private Persons.

Pg 5: ‘all frowardness and’ replaced by ‘all forwardness and’.

Pg 6: ‘we shoud bless’ replaced by ‘we should bless’.

Pg 7: ‘our dail bread’ replaced by ‘our daily bread’.

Pg 7: ‘didst make things’ replaced by ‘didst make all things’.

Pg 10: ‘making the angry’ replaced by ‘making thee angry’.

Pg 13: ‘to or hearts;’ replaced by ‘to our hearts;’.

Pg 16: ‘his geneneration’ replaced by ‘his generation’.

Pg 20: ‘their frowardnes’ replaced by ‘their forwardness’.

Pg 23: ‘said by’ replaced by ‘If said by’.

The New Pictorial Bible.

Pg 2: missing ‘1’ inserted before ‘The Creation of Light.’.

Pg 3: missing ‘3’ inserted before ‘Woman formed.’.

Pg 10: ‘with s right hand’ replaced by ‘with his right hand’.

Pg 18: ‘kept, — daughter’ replaced by ‘kept, the daughter’.

Pg 19: ‘his diciples came’ replaced by ‘his disciples came’.

Pg 19: ‘they hat mourn’ replaced by ‘they that mourn’.

Pg 22: missing ‘41’ inserted before ‘Jesus is accused’.

Lives of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Pg 5: ‘there innocence did’ replaced by ‘their innocence did’.

Pg 8: ‘on the alter’ replaced by ‘on the altar’.

Pg 11: ‘on a time sod’ replaced by ‘on a time sold’.

Pg 11: ‘to which Esa’ replaced by ‘to which Esau agreed.’.

Pg 16: ‘Upon there return’ replaced by ‘Upon their return’.

Pg 19: ‘there approaching’ replaced by ‘their approaching’.

Pg 22: ‘in there rebellion’ replaced by ‘in their rebellion’.

The Life and Death of Judas Iscariot.

Pg 24: ‘their to expect’ replaced by ‘there to expect’.

The Wife of Beith.

Pg 18: ‘ever hop and’ replaced by ‘ever hope and’.

Pg 19: ‘When yon did cut’ replaced by ‘When you did cut’.

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Table of Contents

John Cheap The Chapman’s Library:

CONTENTS.

THE LIFE OF JOHN KNOX.

THE LIFE OF JOHN WELCH.

THE LIFE AND PROPHECIES OF ALEXANDER PEDEN.

THE LIFE OF MR DONALD CARGILL.

THE BATTLE OF DRUMCLOG.

LONG CREDIT.

DEATH OF A WATCH.

CAPTAIN SILK.

FOOTNOTE:

AN ELEGY IN MEMORY OF SIR ROBERT GRIERSON, OF LAG.

A WEDDING-RING, FIT FOR THE FINGER.

LADY FRETFUL,

DIVINE SONGS.

THE PLANT OF RENOWN.

SERMON I.

SERMON II.

Honey from the Rock of Christ.

SINS AND SORROWS SPREAD BEFORE GOD.

A TOKEN FOR MOURNERS. &c.

PRAYER-BOOK.

THE NEW PICTORIAL BIBLE

The History of Abraham, Isaac, & Jacob

The History of Moses

The History of Joseph & his Brethern

THE LOST AND UNDONE SON OF PERDITION.

THE WIFE OF BEITH.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE