“Thou shalt have the bitterer portion, my poor heart! Yet it is for no long season. We must meet soon, in our Father’s House.”
“Truly. And the time may be very short,” she answered.
“And canst thou give me up, mine Agnes, for Christ’s sake? For mark thou, that which is wrenched away is not given.”
She looked up with fixed, tearless eyes.
“Ay, John. I can give thee up for Christ’s sake. But I could not for any other.”
So they parted—for the last time. For when they should meet again in the Father’s House, they would part no more for ever.
“Not for any other!” Is there no special tenderness in the heart of the loving Saviour, for those who have given up that one thing which would not, could not, be resigned for any sake but His?
The next day there was the bitter mockery of degradation. Every vestment of the priesthood was put upon the martyr; one by one they were torn from him with curses. The crown of his head, where the tonsure had been cut, was defaced; the anointed head and hands were roughly scraped, to deprive them of the sacred unction. But the unction from the Holy One was beyond their reach.
Then came the journey to Colchester, and, lastly, the auto da fé. “Not able to go, his legs sore worn with heavy irons, as also his body weakened by evil keeping,” John Laurence was borne in a chair to his chariot of fire. We are told that at this martyrdom there were seen little children running round the stake, crying, “Lord, strengthen Thy servant, and keep Thy promise!” God did keep His promise, and strengthened His servant.
It was soon over; and they had no more that they could do.