(Continued from page 139.)
To his chaplain, who was then Mr. George Gillespie
—”You have carried yourself discreetly to me, so that I cannot blame you. I hope you shall prove an honest man. If I have been at any times harsh to you, forgive me. I would I had taken better heed to many of your words; I might have gotten good by the means that God gave me, but I made no use of them. Now I see it was God sent this pastor unto me, because he resolved to stay longer at Irvine. The Lord hath now let me see my ways; my soul hath been troubled for them, but my God hath given me comfort, and hath begun to loose my tongue. God be thanked for that which I have gotten. I look for more; great is the work of mercy that is shewn to me; now the love of God is made known to my soul, and I am grieved for my ingratitude against my loving Lord, and that I should have sinned against him who came down from the heaven to the earth for my cause, to die for my sins. The sense of this love, borne in upon my heart, hath a reflex, making me love my Saviour, and grip to him back again. The sparks and flauhgens of this love shall fly up and down this bed so long as I lie into it.”
To another kinsman
he said, “Learn to use your precious time well. Oh, alas! the ministry in this country is dead. God help you. Ye are not right led. Ye had need to be busy among yourselves; and the knowledge God hath given you, use it and practise it. Men are as careless in the practice of godliness as if godliness were nothing but fashions words, sighs, and shows: but all these will not do the turn. O! but I find it now hard to take heaven by violence, and to thrust in at.”
To two gentlemen neighbours
—”It is not rising soon in the morning, and running out to the park and stone dyke, that will bring peace to the conscience when it comes to this part of the play. You know not how I have been beguiled with the world. I would counsel you to seek that one thing that is necessary, even the salvation of your soul. Be continually casting your accounts. Let not your reckonings be behind as mine was, but count with your own souls every day and every night.”
To a cousin, bailie of Ayr
—”Robert, I know you have light and understanding; and though you have no need to be instructed by me, yet have you need to be incited. Care not over much for the world, but make use of the good occasions and means you have in your country; for here is a pack of dumb dogs that cannot bark: they tell over a clash of terror and a clatter of comfort without any sense or life.”
To a young cousin, and another young gentleman that was his friend
—”Sirs, ye are young men, and [think] ye have far to go—and it may be some of you have not far to go; and if it fall out that your journey be short, howsoever it is dangerous, now are you happy because you have time to lay your accounts with Jesus Christ. See, therefore, that your reckoning be made daily, lest you be taken (as I am) to make your accounts, and to have all your senses to seek about you; suffer not, therefore, this example that you see of me to slip unobserved, but make your best use of it. I entreat you to give your youth to Jesus Christ, for it is the most precious offer and acceptable gift you can give him. Give not your youth to the devil and your lusts, and then reserve nothing to Jesus Christ but your old rotten bones. It is to be feared that then he will not accept you. Learn, therefore, to watch and take example by me.”
He called Bishop Lamb, who was then Bishop of Galloway, commanding all who were within the chamber to remove, and had with him a long conference; exhorted him most earnestly not to molest or remove the Lord’s servants, and not to enforce or enthrall their consciences to receive the Five Articles of Perth, nor to do anything against their consciences, but to behave himself meekly toward them as he would wish to have mercy from God. The Bishop answered, “My Lord, our ceremonies are of their own nature but things indifferent, and we impose them for decency and order in God’s kirk: they need not to stand scrupulously upon them as matters of conscience in God’s worship.” My Lord Kenmure replied, “I am not to dispute with you; but one thing I know and can tell you out of dear experience, that these things indeed are matters of conscience, and not indifferent, and so I have found them; for since I did lie down in this bed, the sin that lieth heaviest upon my soul, and hath burdened my conscience most, was my withdrawing of myself from the Parliament, and not giving my voice for the truth against these things that they call indifferent, for in so doing I have denied the Lord my God.”
When the Bishop began to commend and encourage him for his well-led life, and did put him in hope of health, and praised him for his civil carriage, and legal behaviour, saying, he was not an oppressor, and without any known vice, he answered, “My Lord, that is no matter: a man may be a good civil neighbour and yet go to hell.” The Bishop answered, “I confess, my Lord, we have all our own faults;” and thereafter insisted in long discourse that my Lord thought impertinent. This made him interrupt the Bishop, saying, “What should I more? I have gotten a grip of Jesus Christ, and Christ of me. God be with your Lordship.”
On the morrow, the Bishop came to visit him, and said, “My Lord, how do you?” My Lord answered, “I thank God, as well as a saved man hastening to heaven can do.” After that he had given the clerk of Kirkcudbright a most divine and grave counsel anent his Christian carriage, and how he should walk in his particular calling, he caused him hold up his hand, and swear by the Lord that he should never consent, but to oppose to the election of a corrupt minister or magistrate.
To his coachman
* He said to his coachman, “You will now go to any man that will give you most hire; but do not so. Go where ye may get best company: though you get less wages, yet will you get the more grace, (he made him hold up his hand and promise before God to do so,) because your calling is subject to drunkenness and company.”
To two young serving men, that came to him weeping to get his last blessing
he said, “Content not yourselves to be like old wives with a superficial show of religion, to make a show of blessing yourselves in the morning for the fashion only; yea, although you would pray both morning and evening, yet that will not avail you, except likewise you make your account every day. Oh! ye will find few to direct or counsel you: but I will tell you what to do: first, pray the Lord fervently to enlighten the eyes of your mind, then seek grace to rule your affections. Ye will find the good of this when you are as I am.” He took their oath to strive to do so; and as he counselled them, he made many divine and powerful exhortations to so many sundry persons, that all might be hardly written for length. He caused every man to hold up their hands, and swear in his presence that by God’s grace they should forbear their former sins and follow his counsel.
After that he had exhorted many friends and servants, as they were going out of the chamber, he said to them, “Stay, Sirs, I have somewhat yet to say. Be not deceived with the world; for me I have played the fool, and brought the house of Kennure to the perfection of a complete fabric, as it was never before, and busied myself exceedingly; and when I came to the top of my hopes, and thought to enjoy them, the Lord came and plucked me from my hopes: thereafter I did see my own folly; and this also I observed in my father. Take example by me, and be not ensnared with the world. There be some who seek the world too carefully, and some too greedily, and many unlawfully; and men have it so much in mind, that they are upon the world in the morning ere they come out of their bed, and before ever they seek God. Sirs, set your hearts to give pains in sad earnest for the kingdom of heaven. I will tell you the heavenly kingdom is not gotten with a skip or a leap. I find it now: there must be thrusting, and thronging, and climbing, to enter in. It is a strait and narrow way.” His omission of prayer in the morning time, through needless foils and distractions, touched his conscience. This he confessed with regret.
He was giving a divine counsel to a friend, and rested in the midst of it, and looked up to heaven, and prayed for a loosed heart and tongue to express the goodness of God to men; and thereafter went on in his counsel, not unlike to Jacob, Gen. xlix. 18, who, in the midst of a prophetical testament, resteth a little, and saith, “Lord, I have waited for thy salvation.”
He gave his Lady divers times, and that openly, an honourable and ample testimony of holiness and goodness, and all respective kindness to her husband, and craved her forgiveness earnestly where he had offended her, and desired her to make the Lord her comforter, and said he was but gone before, and it was but fifteen or sixteen years up or down.
He spake ordinarily to all the boys of the house, servants, butlers, cooks, omitting none, saying, “Learn to serve and fear the Lord, and use the means of your salvations carefully, that you put not your accounts to the hinder end of the day as I did foolishly. I know what is ordinarily your religion: ye go to the kirk, and when ye hear the devil or hell named in the preaching, ye sigh and make a noise, and it is forgot with you before you come home, and then ye are holy enough; but I can tell you the kingdom of heaven is not gotten so easily. Then your pastors and guides mislead you. They are but a pack of dumb dogs. Use the means yourself, and win to some sense of God, and pray as you can morning and evening. If you be ignorant of the way to heaven, God forgive you; for I discharged myself in that point toward you, and appointed a man to teach you. Your blood be upon yourselves. The little knowledge that you have, if you would use it carefully, and with a good conscience, the Lord would lead you on farther, and teach you his ways; but your form is to ask for that master who will give you most hire, and little care you to live in good company, where you may find the means of salvation; and so ye spend the time all over in the ignorance of God.” He took an oath of his servants that they should follow his advice. He had a speech severally to every one of them. He was so far humbled, that he said to every one of them, (the meanest not excepted,) “If I have been rough to thee, or offended thee, I pray thee for God’s sake forgive me.” And, among others, one to whom he had been rough said, “Your Lordship did me never wrong: I will never get such a master again.” Yet my Lord urged the boy to say, “My Lord, I forgive you:” howbeit the boy was hardly brought to utter these words.
He said to all the beholders about him, “Sirs, behold how low the Lord hath laid me.”
To a gentleman burdened in his estate
—”Sir, I counsel you to cast your burdens upon the Lord your God.”
A worthy and religious gentleman, of his name, came to visit him four days before his death. He beholding him afar off, said, “Robert,* come to me, leave me not till I die.” Thereafter being much comforted with the gentleman’s words, he would have him to wait upon his body; and being more and more comforted with his speeches, he said, “Robert, you are a friend both to my soul and to my body.” This gentleman asked him, saying, “My Lord, what comfort hath your soul in your love towards the saints?” He answered, “I rejoice at it.” Then he asked, “What comfort have you in bringing this pastor who attends you to Galloway?” He answered, “God knoweth that I rejoice that ever God did put it in my heart so to do; and now because I aimed at God’s glory in it, the Lord hath made me to find comfort to my soul: in the end, I would counsel all men that think to die, to lay up many good works against the time of departure. The ministers of Galloway murdered my father’s soul; and if this man had not come, they had murdered mine also.”
Supposed to be Robert Gordon of Knockbraks.
In the hearing of my Lady Herries, his sister, a Papist, he testified how willing he was to leave the world, that he could not command his soul to look back again to this life. He did so long (as he said) for his soulful of the well of life, that Papists may see that those who die in this religion see and know well whither they go, and that we are by death fully loosed from the love of this world, for the hope of our own Father’s house.
It was told him that letters were come from some of his friends to him, he caused deliver them to his Lady saying, “I have nothing to do with them: I had rather hear of news from heaven concerning my eternal salvation.”
It was observed, when any came to him anent worldly business, that before they were out at the doors he returned unto praying, conference, meditation, or some spiritual exercise, and was exceedingly short in despatching all earthly business; yet so as he took the pains to sign all needful writs when he was required; likewise, he recommended the case of the poor to his friends.
When he was wearing weaker, he fell in a swoon; and being awaked, he said, with smiling and signs of joy, to all about him, “I would not exchange my life with you all, nay, not with you who are ministers. I feel the smell of the place where I am going to.”
Upon the Friday, in the morning, 12th September, which was the day of his departure, he said to the pastor, “This night must I sup with Jesus Christ in Paradise.” The pastor read to him 2 Cor. v.; Rev. xxii.; and made some short notes upon such places as concerned his estate. After prayer, he said, “I conceive good hope that God looketh upon me when he gives his servants such liberty as to pray for me. Is it possible that Jesus Christ can loose his grips of me? neither may my soul get itself plucked from Jesus Christ.”
He earnestly desired sense of God’s presence, and the pastor said, “What, my Lord, if that be suspended till you come to your own home, and be before the throne clothed in white, and get your harp in your hand to sing salvation to the Lamb, and to him that sitteth on the throne: for that is heaven, and who dare promise you it upon earth? There is a piece of nature in desiring a sense of God’s love, it being an apple that the Lord’s children delight to play with; but, my Lord, if you would have it only as a pledge of your salvation, we shall seek it from the Lord to you, and you may lawfully pray for it.” Earnest prayers were made for him, and my Lord testified that he was filled with the sense of his Lord’s love.
Being asked what he thought of the world, he answered, “It is bitterer than gall or wormwood.” Being demanded if now he feared death, he answered, “I have tasted death now: it is not a whit bitter; welcome the messenger of Jesus Christ.” He never left off to mourn for his sins, especially his deserting of the Parliament.
The pastor said to him, “My Lord, there is a process betwixt the Lord and your Father’s house; but your name is taken out of the process. Dear, and how dear, was heaven bought for you by your Saviour Jesus Christ.” “I know there is a wrath against my father’s house, but I shall get my soul for a prey;” which words he had frequently in his mouth. Oft times also he would say, “Is not this a sweet word that God saith, ‘As I live, I delight not in the death of sinners?'” He said often, “I will not let go the grip that I have gotten of Christ: though he would slay me, I will trust in him, and lie at his feet, and die there; and lie at his door like a beggar waiting on; and if I may not knock, I shall scrape.” Another word was ordinary to him, “O Son of God, one love-blink, one smack, one kiss of thy mouth, one smile!”
When he had been deep in a meditation of his change of life, he made this question, “What will Jesus Christ be like when he cometh?” It was answered, “All lovely.”
The day of his change, being Friday, 12th September, he was heard pray divinely; on which day he said to the doctor, “I thought to have been dissolved ere now.” The pastor answered, “My Lord, weary not of the Lord’s yoke; Jesus Christ is posting fast to be at you; he is within few miles.” He answered mildly, “This is my infirmity; I will wait on; he is worthy the on-waiting. Though he be long in coming, yet I dare say he is coming, leaping over the mountains, and skipping over the hills: if he were once come we should not sunder.”
The pastor answered, “Some have gotten in this same life their full of Christ; howbeit, Christ is oft under a mask to his own in this life, and will have them kissing him through a mask; yet even his best saints, Job, David, Jeremiah, were under desertions.”
My Lord answered, “What are their examples to me? I am not in holiness near to Job, David, or Jeremiah.” The pastor answered, “It is true, my Lord, you cannot take such wide steps as they did, but you are in the same way with them; a young child followeth his father at the back, though he cannot take such wide steps as he, yet this hindereth him not to be in the same way with him. My Lord, your hunger overcometh your faith; only but believe his word; you are longing for Christ: only believe Jesus Christ is faithful, and will come quickly.”
To this my Lord answered, “I think it time—Lord Jesus, come!” Then the pastor said, “My Lord, our nature is in trouble to be wholly upon our own deliverance; whereas God seeketh first to be glorified in our faith, and patience, and hope, and then it is time enough that we be delivered.” He answered, “Good reason, my Lord be first served. Lord give me to wait on; only, Lord, burn me not to dross.”
Another said, “Cast back your eyes, my Lord, upon that which you have received, and be thankful;” at the hearing whereof, he presently broke forth in praising of God; and finding himself weak, and his speech failing, some more than an hour before death, he desired the pastor to pray, which he did. After prayer, the pastor cried in his ear, “My Lord, may you now sunder with Christ?” He said nothing, nor was it expected he should speak any more; yet a little after, the pastor asked, “Have you any sense of the Lord’s love?” He answered, “I have sense.” The pastor said, “Do you not enjoy?” He answered, “I do enjoy.” Thereafter the pastor said, “Will you not sunder with Christ?” He answered, “By no means.” This was the last word, not being able to speak any more.
The pastor asked if he should pray. He turned his eye towards the pastor. In the time of that last prayer he was observed joyfully smiling, and looking up with glorious looks, as was observed by the beholders; and with a certain beauty his visage was beautified as beautiful as ever he was in his life. He expired with loud and strong fetches and sobs, being strong of heart and body, of the age of five and thirty years. The expiring of his breath, the ceasing of the motion of his pulse, (which the physician was still gripping,) trysted all precisely with the “Amen” of his prayer; and so died he sweetly and holily, and his end was peace. He departed, about the setting of the sun, September 12, 1634.
Blessed are they who die in the Lord.