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I.
"The noble army of
martyrs praise thee.”
HOW many of God’s people “who escaped the martyr’s death, yet suffered
for the same noble cause, taking joyfully the spoiling of their goods,
and suffering hunger, arid thirst, and cold, and nakedness,” may surely
be numbered among that “glorious army of martyrs,” and are now wearing
the same crown and rejoicing in the same eternal rest.
On a lovely morning, in the early autumn of the year 1558, a young girl,
in the dress of a peasant, was seen passing along the road toward the
town of Perth, with a basket upon her arm, containing what might be
supposed was produce for the Perth market. As she drew near the town,
she looked anxiously around her, and then suddenly turned down a narrow
and unfrequented pathway, which led her from the main road on to the
moor. Before her lay the grand old hills, which now stood like golden
pyramids in the morning sun. The moor or valley lay in the shade; here
and there the sweet-scented heather-brush, covered with dew, sparkled
like diamonds flung around in careless confusion, as the sun soared
higher and higher above the hills, casting his rays over different parts
of the moor; but this lovely scene could not be enjoyed by our young
traveler. She hastened on, until she was lost to sight among the hills.
Here, putting down her basket, she knelt down upon the green moss and
most heartily and devoutly thanked her Heavenly Father for thus far
bringing her on her way in peace.
This young girl was the daughter of a Scottish gentleman who, for the
past three months, had been hunted, as the wild birds of his native
country, from hill-side to glen, and from glen to morass—the most
remote-cave and den affording but uncertain protection from his enemies.
Why was this? What crime had he committed against his king and country
that he should be driven from his home and family of loved ones, thus to
wander among the dens and caves of the earth? Why was it? For the same
reason that many others at that time had taken their lives into their
hands, and in the midst of hardships and privations, separations from
those they loved, counted as among the off-scouring of the earth, and
suffering even death itself rather than give up their faith in that
blessed Savior who had died for them, and submit themselves to the
authority of the Church of Rome.
Andrew McGregor was among this number. He was a gentleman by birth and
education, affable and courteous, beloved and respected by all who knew
him. He resided on his estate, which was situated on the outskirts of
the town of Perth. His wife was from a noble family, who had seen great
trials from the persecution of various members of her family, and when
she consented to share the lot of Andrew McGregor, she felt that it
would be blessed, whether for “weal or woe.”
Three sweet bairns were given them, and their first and greatest care
was to use every available means in those perilous times to train them
in a firm adherence to the Protestant faith. Helen, the eldest, now just
thirteen years of age, had early given her heart to Jesus. She was a
lovely bud, retiring and timid in her disposition while shielded by a
father's love and protection but now, at the time our story commences,
bold as a lion, and the stay and comfort of her sorrowing parents.
Andrew McGregor had been seized on account of his religion, and forcibly
dragged from his home, by those cruel persecutors of his country, by
whom he was thrown into a filthy, loathsome prison for more than six
months, without being allowed one word of communication with his
sorrowing family. At the expiration of that time, he was taken before
the Bishop of Saint Andrew’s, who was then staying at Perth, and who,
not wishing to proceed with harsher measures toward him, tried, with
much philosophy, worldly wisdom, and deceitful vanity, after the
tradition of men, and not after Christ — tried hard to persuade him to
submit himself to the Church of Rome, to acknowledge the Pope as itg
head, and to interpret the Scripture not otherwise than the Church did;
beseeching him also to consider his wife and children, and, for their
sakes, to recant all those heretical opinions he was now professing to
hold.
After this seemingly fair speech, Andrew, with holy indignation,
answered them:
“This is my faith, and in this faith, by God’s grace, I live or die: I
believe in only one Catholic and Apostolic Church, without which there
was no salvation; and that this church is but one, because it hath ever
confessed, and shall ever confess and believe, one only God, one only
Messiah, and in Him trust for salvation; which church, also, is ruled
and led by one Spirit, one Word, and one faith; and that this church is
universal and Catholic, because it hath been since the world's
beginning, is, and shall endure to the end of the world. Comprehending
within it all nations, kindreds, tongues, degrees, states, and
conditions of men, built “only” upon the foundations of the prophets and
apostles, Jesus Christ “himself” being the chief corner-stone, and not
upon the Romish laws and decrees whose head the bishop, of Rome was;
neither had it any supremacy over empires and kingdoms, but it was a
poor, simple flock, dispersed abroad as sheep without a shepherd in the
midst of wolves; and that this Church is led and ruled by the Word of
Christ, he being its Supreme Head, and assisting, succoring, and
defending it from all assaults, errors, and persecutions wherewith it is
ever encompassed. Secondly. Even for the sake of my wee bairns and my
loving wife, I dare not, can not, will not deny my Lord and Master, for
he hath said, ‘He that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not
worthy of me.’ And into the hands of a covenant-keeping God I desire to
commit all that is nearest and dearest to me on earth, believing that fc
He doeth all things well'” At the close of this noble confession, the
bishop and judges present were much enraged, and declared he should die.
The bishop then ordered him back to prison, and from thence to be taken
to the Green, and there burnt at the stake a week from that day. On
hearing this sentence, Andrew replied:
“Think you I have been so long God’s prisoner and have not yet learned
to die? Yes, yes, I doubt not but God will strengthen me therein.”
He was then sent back to prison, where he fell on his knees and humbly
returned thanks to God for the grace given him during his trial, and
then imploring aid and consolation for his sorrowing wife and little
ones.
II.
We left Helen kneeling
upon the greensward in prayer. Now rising and looking carefully around,
she took up her basket and began winding her way round the side of the
hill farthest from the town. Her progress was much impeded by the briers
and underbrush that were in her path, and sometimes her steps seemed to
falter, but only for a few moments at a time did she rest. Love gave her
strength to carry what, for her tender years, was a heavy load; and the
thought that it wa3 for her beloved father, who for three long months
had been wandering about, weary and worn, not daring to come near his
home, though ofttimes within its sight. Was she not also the only one
her dear mother could trust to go to him, now they had heard of. his
place of concealment, and assure him of her continued love and
affection, and carry him some food to nourish his poor, weakened frame?
These thoughts encouraged her to press on until at last she came to a
deep glen on the opposite side of the hill, and within sight of the
“robbers’ cave ”—so called from its having been the resort of a gang of
smugglers. Here she quickened her pace, her heart throbbing for joy to
think she should so soon behold her dear father, and be clasped in his
arms. She quickly though gently pushed aside the heather-brush and
brambles that led to the entrance of the cave, carefully replacing them
as she passed, that no one passing over the hills might suppose the cave
had been visited; then rolling aside the stone that was at the entrance,
she stepped over, and in a few seconds was in the arms of her father.
Neither of them could speak, but Helen felt the hot tears falling on her
cheek as he pressed her to his heart. See him she could not. Coming in
from the light, it appeared to her total darkness in the cave; but after
a few minutes she began to discern the form of her parent and the
outline of the cave.
But, oh! what grief oppressed her heart when she could see more plainly
the wasted form, the pale cheek, the sunken eyes of the parent she so
much loved; and she fell weeping on his bosom; then, suddenly recovering
herself, she begged of him to eat a little food, and began to display
the contents of her basket, assuring hioa that her mother had put every
thing in with her own hand. But Andrew could not eat then; his heart was
too full: the sight of his first-born, after being in prison, and then a
wanderer, more than nine months, quite unmanned him, and he wept and
sobbed like a child. Again Helen pressed him to take some refreshments,
and when he had recovered himself a little, he said:
“Not yet—not yet, my precious bairn; you must first tell me how your
dear mother is, and Amy, and my bonnie babe Jamie. Come here, my
darling;” and he drew her to a seat in the cave, and, putting his arms
around her, again repeated the question:
“How is thy mother and the babes?”
Helen replied that the health of her mother was feeble, but that the
children were well, and, until the soldiers were placed in their house,
were as happy as children could be without their dear father.
“What soldiers?” inquired Andrew.
“O father! did you not know that after you had been taken from us a long
time, and it was said you had. escaped from prison, two soldiers were
placed in our house, and they used to insult mamma, and terrify the
servants into doing things she did not like to have done; and sometimes
Amy and Jamie would cry, and call papa, when the soldiers would use such
dreadful words, and threaten to cut off their ears? One day, they took
our bonnie Jamie from mamma, and fastened him in a tub, and would let no
one go near him, saying if he did not leave off screaming soon, they
would kill him. Poor mamma went and shut herself up in her room; and she
told me afterward she prayech that our Heavenly Father would send him
sweet sleep, and He heard her prayer, for he soon after went to sleep,
and slept sweetly until after dark. I then begged of the soldiers to let
me go and take him out, and, after a little entreaty, they said yes. I
ran down stairs and lifted him out. Poor darling, he was so pale and
cold! and he put up his little mouth to mine, and, kissing me, said:
“‘Me dood now, sister.’
“Dear mother kissed him, and cried over him, assuring him he was not
naughty—he was good; but it was a long time before he could forget that
dreadful punishment.”
“It must have been, indeed,” said Andrew, “a dreadful trial for him and
his dear mother. Would that I could see you placed in safety on the
shores of Holland, away from these bloodthirsty mon; but, my darling, we
must still strive to say, ‘Thy will be done.”
III.
Helen now persuaded her
father to partake of some food, and after placing the remaining
provisions in a secure place, Andrew again inquired of his daughter by
what means they heard of his hiding-place; and when he found it was from
the herdsman to whom he had a few evenings ago made himself known, he
felt thankful there was one near him whom he could trust.
“But how,” asked Andrew, “was he able to let your mother know, as you
tell , me you are so strictly watched by the soldiers? and how came you
to succeed in eluding their vigilance?”
“Why, dear father,” replied Helen, “you know he is confined to his bed
with a sprained ankle, so he sent his boy, little Davie, to tell mamma
he thought it would be best to sell the white cow, and would like to see
her about it, if she would step down to his cot, as he could not walk,
having sprained his foot. This message the soldiers heard, and being
thrown off their guard, allowed mamma to go down alone. When she heard
of your hiding-place, she was greatly rejoiced, and wished me to assure
you of her love and great desire to come and see you herself, but feared
to make known your hiding-place by so doing. After returning home, she
told the cook she wished some nourishing food sent down to Davie; and,
on one of the soldiers entering the kitchen, said, ‘If you put it up, I
will take it down myself; and through this means was enabled, in one or
two visits, to carry down these few things for you. Then, hoping I
should not be missed, she took me into her confidence, and asked me to
undertake the bringing of them to you.”
“Bless you, my bonnie bairn,” said her father; “may God in heaven bless
you, my darling child;” and again the once strong man wept as a child.
Helen wept also, but presently lifting up her head, said:
“I do often, dear father, think why does God thus permit his people to
be persecuted. Since you have been in prison, the good pastor Ferguson
was taken from his church and shot at his own door, and many others
cruelly used. Why does God permit his enemies to triumph over his
people?”
“My darling,” replied her father, “we must not doubt the infinite wisdom
and love of our Heavenly Father, in thus permitting his enemies to
triumph for a time. Did not our blessed Lord himself say ‘Jthat his
Church, his people, should be hated of all men, for his name’s sake?'
but with that he gave the promise from his Father that ‘he that
overcometh shall inherit all things, and I will be his God, and he shall
be my son.’ Yes, my child, great, indeed, are the persecutions of his
people; but do not, my Helen, doubt the love and care of your Heavenly
Father, who will bear you through all trials he may call you, or any of
us, to pass through; and then, my sweet bairn, think of the reward; ”
and, taking his Testament from his bosom, read to her from the seventh
chapter of Revelation— “And the elder said unto me, what are these which
are arrayed in white robes? and whence came they? And I said unto him,
Sir, thou know-est. And he said to me, These are they which came out of
great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in
the blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the throne of God, and
serve him day and night in his temple ; and he that sitteth on the
throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst
any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the
Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead
them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears
from their eyes.” Andrew closed the book, and then, kneeling down with
his beloved child, poured out his soul in prayer to their Father above,
who had given them such exceeding great and precious promises to guide,
and cheer, and allure them on their way. Then how he wrestled in prayer
for his loved wife and children, that, amid the darkness and
difficulties of their path, their faith might be strengthened, and their
whole trust and confidence placed upon the rock of their salvation. They
then rose from their knees, and, after assuring himself that Helen
might, with safety to himself, remain all night, he took some heather
from the corner of the cave, and, spreading it upon the ground, besought
her to lie down and take some rest after the fatigue and excitement of
the day. Poor Helen indeed felt the need of rest: unused to toil, it had
been a heavy task for her to carry sufficient provisions to her father
to last him a few days; so, after affectionately kissing him, she lay
down, and was soon asleep.
IV.
ANDREW McGregor, with his
elbows resting on his knees and his head leaning on his hands, sat a
long time communing with his own heart. His thoughts carried him back to
the time when he was dwelling in the bosom of his family, happy in each
other’s love: now he was a proscribed man; his wife and little ones left
with no earthly protector at the mercy of a hard-hearted soldiery; he
himself hunted for in every nook and corner of his native
hills—condemned to be burnt at the stake, if not shot down by the
blood-thirsty soldiers. Then he thought how many more were suffering, at
the present time, even greater trials than these “each day;” some
witnessing a good confession, and sealing it with their blood; and these
thoughts led him to rejoice that he had been deemed worthy to take his
place among that noble army of martyrs throughout the world. He now
sought a few hours’ repose, and was awaked by a slanting ray of the
rising sun shining through a crevice in the roof of the cave. When Helen
awoke she could not at first collect her thoughts. She thought at first
that she must be dreaming, until she saw her father spreading their
morning repast. She then arose, and, after embracing each other, they
again knelt down and thanked the Father of all mercies for his kind care
of them during the night, and craving his protection for them all during
the day, and for an especial blessing on his child then present with
him, that she might regain her home in peace, and that, if they were
never permitted to meet again on earth, they might meet an unbroken
family in heaven.
After partaking of their simple repast, Helen began to prepare herself
for her homeward journey, as she knew her mother would begin to look
anxiously for her return. She asked her father what message he would
wish delivered to her mother.
“Give her my warmest love—the warmest love that an earthly creature may
bestow upon another without putting up an idol in God’s stead. Tell her
to be of good cheer, for I am quiet in my conscience, and feel assured
that my God will supply all her need. God bless my children; and you, my
Helen, who art the stay and comfort of thy parents, may God give thee a
double blessing; may you stand strong and steadfast unto Christ and his
word, Und beware of idolatry.”
After this blessing, Helen bade a tearful adieu to her father, and
stepped from the cave. The morning sun shone bright and beautiful as
Helen retraced the path she had taken the day previous, and she
carefully replaced the sweet heather brush as she passed along that no
trace might be given of her father’s retreat. The sound of the busy bees
humming among the sweet heather-flowers, and the notes of the birds
caroling their morning song of praise, made her heart feel lighter than
for many days before, and she felt her heart run over with gratitude and
joy that she had been permitted to minister, in some measure, to the
comfort of her parent.
She succeeded in reaching the herdsman’s cot unobserved, where the poor
man rejoiced with the “bairn of his laird,” and gave God praise for
helping her “sae weel.” After changing her dress, and entering the
grounds around the house, she succeeded in passing unobserved to her
mother’s chamber, where that dear parent received her with open arms,
tenderly inquiring after every look and word of her beloved
husband—which Helen repeated again and again.
Hope again reigned in their hearts as they heard of no particular search
being made for some weeks, during which time Helen, through the faithful
services of the herdsman, was enabled, several times, to visit her
father, who himself began to entertain the hope that possibly he might
elude his persecutors and escape to Holland, whither his family might
join him.
Once Mrs. McGregor, on the plea of visiting a friend in town, ventured
to see her husband at the care. This painful meeting—still more painful
parting — words can not portray; yet they both endeavored to strengthen
and build up each other in their most holy faith, so that, living or
dying, they might be one in Christ. They spoke of trying eventually to
reach the shores of Holland, and Andrew instructed his wife to consult
with Davie, the herdsman, as to the best means of carrying out this
intention. She then parted, with some faint hope of & future meeting.
V.
Alas for human hopes! A
few days after this interview, Helen visited her father with a fresh
supply of provisions, and on returning, as she was carefully replacing
the brambles and heather across the path, she was seen from the
neighboring heights by one who was a bitter enemy to all professing the
Protestant, faith, and surmising that some of these hated persons were
concealed in that neighborhood, he at once went and gave intimation of
the figure he had seen passing along the glen. Two soldiers were at once
dispatched with their informer, who, after searching every spot around
the glen, at last discovered the entrance to the cave, which they
entered, and, with horrid oaths and threats, drew forth into the
sunlight poor Andrew McGregor.
All hope now vanished from his heart, as regarded this world. He knew
that no mercy would be shown him, but ho begged for one moment’s
interview with his wife as he passed his house. This was granted. When
it was told to Mrs. McGregor that her husband was again in custody, she
appeared at first prostrated by the tidings; but being made to
understand he was waiting in the hall to bid her farewell, she tried to
nerve herself for the interview, and looking to the strong One for
strength, she immediately hastened to him. Andrew fervently embraced
her, told her to pray for him that he might glorify God in the fire. No
other words passed between them; their thoughts were too sacred to
express in words before their cruel persecutors. They each felt the full
force of their divine Master’s words: “Whosoever shall deny me before
men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven;” and
neither would consent to do this.
The soldiers now, with oaths, told them to separate, when Andrew, again
embracing his wife, lifting up his eyes unto heaven, said, “Even so,
Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight."
Thus they parted, each to meet again as conquerors through the blood of
the Lamb.
He was then taken to Perth, where the sentence first passed on him was
ordered to be carried out on the following morning. The whole night he
spent in prayer.
On reaching the spot where he was to suffer, he knelt down and humbly
addressed himself to Almighty God, until interrupted by his popish
enemies, who now fastened him to the stake and set fire to the furze and
wood. He died with fortitude and resignation, triumphing in the midst of
the flames, and exulting in hopes of the glory that awaited him. Soon
after Andrew McGregor’s martyrdom, Queen Mary died.
The Protestant religion was again established, and the poor persecuted
Christians for a time had rest. Mrs. McGregor, though mourning deeply
the loss of her husband, could but rejoice in the change of affairs, and
by her earnest teachings and holy example, had the unspeakable happiness
of seeing all her children growing up bumble and devoted followers of
the Lord Jesus. Should not all honors be shown to those heroes and
champions of our faith who were baptized in blood for their strict
adherence to the faith once delivered to the saints? And may the
triumphant deaths of the martyrs increase our attachment to the cause
which we have espoused, and strengthen our faith, and hope, and joy in
the Lord. |
