by Rev. James Kerr, Greenock
(This address was delivered in 1880)
“Thou hadst a favour unto them.” — PSALMS XLIV.3.
“Whose faith follow” (imitate). — HEBREWS XIII.7.
Throughout the greater part of the forty-fourth Psalm we feel the beat of the pulse of the oppressed, we hear the cry of the martyr. In the opening verses, the inspired penman recalls some of the ancient glories of
his country, the memories of which had been fast sinking into the azure of the past. He recites the deeds of an Omnipotent arm for Israel in the days of old. The Amorite and the Hittite and the Anakim had been driven out of the promised land, and over Jericho and Ai and Hebron there waved the banner of victorious Israel. From Dan to Beersheba, and from Jordan to the sea, the vine from Egypt had stretched, and the chosen people of the living God were planted in their place. Great was this work of conquest; mighty this revolution in Canaan! Did Joshua and Caleb and their hosts perform it by their own arm? Did their own swords cut the alien armies in sunder? No; for “they got not the land in possession by their own sword, neither did their own arm save them; but Thy right hand, and Thine arm, and the light of Thy countenance, because Thou hadst a favour unto them.” God’s sovereign goodness was the originating cause, and God’s almighty arm the performing agent of all.
But, having thus raised a memorial to the goodness of God to his fathers, the Psalmist proceeds to lament the evils and tribulations under which his beloved land and the faithful laboured. “Thou hast given us like sheep appointed for meat.” “Thou hast sore broken us in the place of dragons, and covered us with the shadow of death”. “Our soul is bowed down to the dust”. And in the midst of these sighs he turns his face to Him who had done so great things “in the times of old,” and prays fervently that He would put forth His arm and build up the broken walls. “Thou art my King, O God, command deliverances for Jacob.” “Awake, why sleepest Thou, O Lord; arise, cast us not off for ever.” “Arise for our help, and redeem us for Thy mercies’ sake.”
These words are written for our instruction, and the application of them to these covenanted lands, and especially to Scotland, is evident. For “we have heard with our ears, O God, our fathers have told us, what work Thou didst in their days, in the times of old.” Two hundred years ago, a great Reformation was accomplished in this land. Ancient forms of error and superstition, mighty like Anak’s giant sons, were hurled from the place of their usurped dominion. Scotland rid herself of the bonds of idolatry, and placed upon her throne King Jesus—her own Sovereign by everlasting decree. A people who entered into covenant with God were planted in the land, and truth and liberty raised their heads in triumph. Did Scotland accomplish this great Reform in her own might? Is she entitled to attribute her deliverance to any arm of flesh? Nay; for “they got not the land in possession by their own sword, neither did their own arm save them; but Thy right hand, and Thine arm, and
the light of Thy countenance, because Thou hadst a favour unto them.” God’s free favour and mighty power were the cause of all. And when we consider present defections from the lofty Scriptural attainments of the past, the general disregard of the claims of the King of Nations, the many and determined assaults upon the foundations of Christianity, and the low state of practical religion, every lover of Christ and of his country may well sorrow with the sorrowing Psalmist, and pray the prayers he prayed. “Wherefore hidest Thou Thy face; . . . for our soul is bowed down to the dust: . . . arise for our help, and redeem us for Thy mercies’ sake.”
A little before he pens our selection from the Hebrews, the sacred writer has been presenting a list of some of the Worthies of Old Testament times—holding forth the fathers of the grey morning of the world’s history for imitation by the people of God in New Testament times. He commemorates the faith and deeds of Enoch, and Noah, and Abraham, and Moses, and Gideon, and others. And we may well believe that when he calls upon the Hebrews to follow the faith of “those who have the rule over you,” he had not forgotten the list of the heroes of the faith which he had been enumerating. Admiration of those eminent saints was not enough: the noblest eulogies upon their personal character and public deeds would be of little account. Something more was desired; something better was necessary. “Whose faith follow.” Let admiration pass forth into imitation. Be like them in faith, in self-denial, in holiness, in constancy, in the high heroism of battling for God. If that list of faith’s nobles were continued by some inspired hand till the present times, there would doubtless appear in it the names of those who, two centuries ago, “for Christ’s royal truth and laws, and Scotland’s Covenanted Reformation,” jeopardised their lives in the high places of the field. By faith the Marquess of Argyle esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than all the honours of his high rank, for he had respect unto the recompense of the reward. By faith Richard Cameron and his compatriots nailed their Declaration to the Cross of Sanquhar, not fearing the wrath of the King, for they endured as seeing Him who is Invisible. By faith Margaret M’Lachlan and Margaret Wilson beheld with composure, as they were tied to the stake, the rising of the waters that were to engulf them, for they judged Him faithful that had promised. And what shall we more say, for time would fail us to tell of Donald Cargill, and of Hugh M’Kail, and of John Brown, and of David Hackston, and of James Renwick, who “through faith subdued kingdoms, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the
aliens; they were stoned, were slain with the sword, being destitute, afflicted, tormented; of whom the world was not worthy.”
But mere admiration of these heroes is not sufficient in the way of commemoration. The most eloquent eulogies upon their character and exploits will fail to form a sufficient tribute to their memory. It is not enough though our hearts were melted at the recital of their sufferings, and though we were moved to tears as we look upon the place where reposes their hallowed dust. Our aims in the commemoration of their noble struggle must be higher. It should be ours to seek that a double portion of the spirit of martyred fathers might rest upon their sons—their mantles falling upon the shoulders of the men of this generation. It should be ours to renew our acquaintance with and redouble our efforts for the extension of the knowledge of those everlasting doctrines for which they contended to the death. It should be ours to pray and labour to induce these covenanted nations to lift up the banner for the supremacy of King Jesus, under which the martyred band went forward, and to unfurl every fold of it to the breeze. It should be ours to awaken the whole people to a sense of present dangers and present duties that, with united hearts as with one heart, we might give Jehovah no rest till His Anointed and Appointed King should be brought back again to Britain, and till glory greater than ever should have her habitation in the land. This would be the noblest tribute we could render to the memory of Scotland’s Covenanted Martyrs; this a more appropriate and lasting memorial than forests of monumental pillars of marble; this the finest chaplet we could wreath around their tomb. Let our admiration of the martyrs include our adoption of their testimony; let our commemoration of their struggle include the unflinching maintenance by us of the Scriptural principles which made that struggle glorious. So shall we escape the withering curse of our Lord upon the pretended admirers of the martyrs of old:—”Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! because ye build the tombs of the Prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous, and say, If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partakers with them in the blood of the Prophets. Wherefore ye be witnesses unto yourselves, that ye are the children of them which have killed the Prophets”.
I. Scotland’s Covenanted Martyrs were Christians of Eminent Piety. They were eminently pious because “Thou hadst a favour unto them.” That piety we are to imitate.
When they look back to the Reformers and Martyrs, people in general
direct their attention more particularly to the attitude assumed by those men as public witnesses and national benefactors than to their personal devotion to Christ and the eminent holiness of their character. We think rather of John Knox the Reformer than of John Knox the fearer of God; of Richard Cameron the undaunted opponent of tyranny than of Richard Cameron the man of prayer; of James Renwick the public heroic sufferer than James Renwick the saint. Yet, this is as if we should admire more the streams than the fountain; as if we should concentrate our attention upon the light to the exclusion of the sun whence it emanates. The streams that irrigate the waste and make the desert blossom as the rose flow from the fountain; the light that dispels the darkness and floods the world with glory, comes from the great luminary of the day. The reformers and martyrs succeeded in beautifying the moral wilderness with righteousness and filling the nations with light, because of the purity of their soul and the heavenly light that shone in their understanding—that fountain of purity within being supplied from the river of water of life, clear as crystal, coming from the throne, and that light emanating from the uncreated Sun of Righteousness that had arisen upon them with healing in His wings. Yes, the reformers and martyrs were social regenerators because they were regenerate men; they were eminent sufferers because they were eminent Christians; they were illustrious reformers because they were illustrious saints. But for their piety, the Reformation and the subsequent valiant struggle in its defence never would have been accomplished.
The martyrs were Christians of great piety because they were Christians of strong faith. Their faith was the root of their piety, and by that faith they were unmoved. They had a personal interest in the Saviour of sinners; rested on Christ alone for Salvation, and believed in Him. They were not men of weak faith; they were men of mighty faith. Had their faith been weak, they would have failed before the difficulties that confronted them, they would have bowed their heads, like the willows, before the blasts that swept around them. They trusted God much, and God strengthened them mightily. He set their feet on a rock and established their goings. By faith they resisted every shock of their many and mighty adversaries, as the rock in the ocean breasts the giant billows and dashes them back in foam. They were pavilioned in the tent of the Lord of Hosts, and they feared not though tens of thousands were round about them. Their demeanour in the face of appalling dangers was marvellous. There was no perturbation of spirit; there was the utmost composure; yea, there was exceeding peace and joy. Trusting in the Lord
and compassed by the Angel of the Lord, they felt that their hearts were safe. Their foes might be successful in their assaults upon the outer defences—they might tear their bodies in pieces and trample them in the dust, but upon their souls no injury could be inflicted. Impregnable was the citadel of their souls. They were fortressed within the everlasting covenant; fortressed by Almighty God.
“He that doth in the secret place
Of the Most High reside;
Under the shade of Him that is
The Almighty shall abide.”
Within that fortress they had every comfort; they laid their heads on a soft and downy pillow.
“His feathers shall thee hide, thy trust
Under His wings shall be;
His faithfulness shall be a shield
And buckler unto thee.”
“I do not say I am free of sin,” said old Donald Cargill at the scaffold, “but I am at peace with God through a slain Mediator. I bless the Lord that these thirty years and more I have been at peace with God, and was never shaken loose of it; and 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 now this is the sweetest and most glorious day that ever my eyes did see.” “What do I see,” said Margaret Wilson to her murderers, as they pointed her to the waters closing over Margaret M’Lachlan, her companion in tribulation, “What do I see but Christ struggling there? Think ye that we are the sufferers? No, it is Christ in us, for He sends none a warfare on their own charges.”
“Tyrants! could not misfortune teach
That man had rights beyond your reach?
Thought ye the torture and the stake
Could that intrepid spirit break,
Which, even in woman’s breast, withstood,
The fury of the fire and flood”.
The martyrs were men of consuming love for Christ, and entire consecration to His service. Theirs was a love which cruel mockings could not damp; a love which the boot that made the white marrow swim in purple gore could not abate; a love which the swelling waters could not
drown; a love which the scaffold could not expel; a love which, by the faggots and the fire, was fanned into a brighter flame. For, many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it. Though a man were to give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned. The martyrs felt they were redeemed men; redeemed by the most glorious person in the universe—the mighty God; redeemed at an enormous price—not with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a Lamb without blemish and without spot; redeemed from the most degraded and most dreadful of all conditions—from sin and all its dread everlasting consequences; redeemed to the possession of an undefiled and unfading inheritance for ever; redeemed perfectly, for by one offering He hath perfected for ever all them that are sanctified; and redeemed wholly—soul, body, and spirit redeemed. A sense of being thus redeemed enabled the martyrs to stand forth in heaven’s own majesty. How shall they make some return to Him who, by His unparalleled sufferings for them, has laid them under such an insolvent debt of gratitude? They will make a total surrender of themselves to Him who gave Himself wholly for them. They will consent, yea, they will count it all joy to be laid on the altar of sacrifice in love to Him who by the cords of His own everlasting love bound Himself on the cross of Calvary for them. What cared they for the shame of their sufferings? They are ready to be esteemed the offscouring of all things for the sake of Him who for them was exposed to shame and spitting, and became a curse. Calvary to Christ was more glorious than his throne to Caesar, and the Grassmarket of Edinburgh was more glorious to the martyrs than the frowning castle or gorgeous palace to its Stuart owner. Jesus transformed the shame of His sufferings into glory, so that the offence of the cross has for ever ceased; and the shame around the scaffolds of the martyrs has been transformed likewise into pre-eminent honour. “Then let him glorify God in the Grassmarket,” was the sneer of Lauderdale, as he relegated a poor saint to the place of execution. But the blasphemous sneer has been transfigured into glory, and Jehovah has encircled the names and memories of the sufferers with imperishable renown. Love, consuming love; consecration, entire consecration. “I am one of Christ’s,” said Margaret Wilson, as they tempted her to recant, “I am one of Christ’s, let me go. I think my life little enough in the quarrel of owning my Lord and Master’s sweet truth, for He hath freed me from everlasting wrath, and redeemed me.” “I take God to witness,” said James Guthrie as he stood upon the ladder, “that I would not exchange this scaffold with the palace or the mitre of the greatest prelate in Britain.”
And what shall I more say of the elements of their eminent piety? What of their peace—that peace that passeth all understanding, and fortifies the heart and mind in Christ Jesus? “I go up this ladder,” said M’Kail, “with as little fear as I go to my father’s house. Every step is a degree nearer heaven.” What of their hope—that hope that is as an anchor of the soul sure and steadfast, entering into that that is within the veil? “This is the day,” said Richard Cameron on the morning of Airdsmoss, “This is the day we shall get the crown.” “Oh, how can I contain this!” said James Renwick, “to be within a few hours of glory”. What of their joy—that joy that is unspeakable, and full of glory? “I hear the voice,” said Marion Harvie as she came out of the Tolbooth for execution, “I hear the voice of my Beloved, saying unto me, ‘Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away?’” What of their meekness, their patience, their holiness, their brotherly love, their fidelity, their fortitude? All these fruits of the Spirit they bore plenteously. And, of their whole piety, Jesus was the Author and Finisher.
Doubtless the piety of the martyrs was rendered more sterling, and shone forth more brilliantly, by reason of the afflictions wherewith they were afflicted. Trees of righteousness, they were pruned that they might bring forth more fruit; jewels of gold they were put into the furnace—heated seven times—that the pearls of their graces might sparkle by the fiery trial. He who sat as the Refiner and Purifier brought out more clearly His own image upon them.
“When the righteous had fallen, and the combat had ended,
A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended.
Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness,
And its burning wheels turned on axles of brightness.
“And a seraph unfolded the door bright and shining,
All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining:
And the souls that had come out of great tribulation,
They mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation.
“On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding,
Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding;
Glide swiftly, bright spirits, the prize is before you,
A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory.”
The piety of the martyrs was eminent, because it rested on right foundations—on the doctrines of the Book of Inspiration. It rested, not
on the rubbish of self-righteousness, nor on the sand of self-will, but upon the everlasting rock of revealed truth. Those eminent saints believed in the great doctrines of election—sovereign, absolute; predestination; the total depravity of human nature by the fall; the substitution of Christ in the room of sinners; regeneration by the Spirit alone; justification by faith alone in the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ; the perseverance of the saints; an eternal hell; and an eternal heaven. The martyrs’ piety had its roots in the everlasting Covenant, and drew its inspiration from the everlasting God. The doctrine of sovereign grace — of God all in all in the plan, execution, and application of redemption, was the soil on which their piety flourished—the doctrine of Knox; of Luther; of Augustine; of Paul; of Him who came from the Father’s bosom to reveal the Father’s will, for, said He; “No man can come to Me except the Father which hath sent Me, draw him.” By reason of their belief in these doctrines, the martyrs cast forth their roots as Lebanon and stood forth majestic as the cedars—because “Thou hadst a favour unto them.”
“Whose faith follow”. Whose piety imitate. Several Christian denominations contest with each other the honour of the ecclesiastical representation of the reformers and martyrs. They eagerly claim to be their faithful followers and the true representatives of the Church of the Reformation and the times of Persecution. Is the contention so strong to be regarded as the representatives of the piety of those holy men? Are church members as desirous of imitating them in their piety as of being regarded as the faithful adherents of their principles? Is there not reason to call upon Christians to be imitators of the martyrs in their faith in, and love for Christ, in their self-denial, and entire consecration to the service of Christ? Why attempt to create a divorce between imitation of the martyrs as to the maintenance of their principles and imitation of the martyrs in their piety. The Lord’s hand is not shortened that it cannot save, nor His ear heavy that it cannot hear. Ye are not straitened in God, ye are straitened in yourselves. Though our martyred fathers are no more, the God of our fathers liveth. He is from everlasting to everlasting God. The Saviour of the martyrs is still a willing and Almighty Saviour; and, as an ambassador of the Lord of Hosts having the ministry of reconciliation, we offer you that Saviour and all the benefits purchased by the sacrifice of Himself. Whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely. We offer you the salvation in which the martyrs rejoiced; the Saviour whom they loved; the God in whom they gloried. If you would maintain the martyrs’ principles, believe in and love the martyrs’ God.
Oh, for a baptism of the Holy Ghost upon all the people in these lands! Oh, that the God of Cameron and Cargill and Renwick would cause His saving and enlightening influences to descend in rich abundance, that multitudes would say, “I am the Lord’s,” and would “subscribe with their hand to the Lord, and surname themselves with the name of Israel”. The strength of Britain this day is not in her armies nor her ironclads, but in those who are the disciples of Christ. “Ye are the salt of the earth”. “The holy seed is the substance thereof”. Would that the number of these were greater! The work of national reformation, at present loudly demanded, requires men of faith, self-denial, holiness, piety—men in whose souls, as in the souls of reformers two hundred years ago, runs deep and strong the current of everlasting life; men who are firmly rooted in the everlasting covenant; men who draw their power from Jacob’s mighty God. “They that trust in the Lord shall be strong and do exploits”. “The Spirit of the Lord came upon Gideon and he blew a trumpet, and all Abiezer was gathered after him.” “Whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation, Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and today, and for ever.”