Sketches of the Covenanters

by J. C. McFeeters

The home of the Covenanters in those days was mostly the abode of virtue and intelligence, of comfort in the Holy Spirit and abundant grace in the Lord Jesus Christ. The knowledge of God was the light in which the household dwelt. The language of the Shorter Catechism was the mother tongue; the children were dieted on Psalms and porridge; the family altar was indispensable; the Holy Bible was appreciated more than bread, and King David's poetry more than roast lamb. The father's prayer at the hearthstone was vital to the household as the breath of their nostrils; morning and evening the voice of parents and children mingled together in the worship of God.

To the family that kept Covenant with God the Sabbath came with peculiar loveliness and inspiration. On Saturday evening special preparation was made for the coming of the Lord's Day; even the turf was piled beside the fire, the potatoes were washed and in the pot, and the water carried from the spring; "the works of necessity and mercy" were reduced to a minimum. A solemn hush fell upon the fields, and a heavenly light gleamed upon the house, as the sun ascended the sky. The noise of labor had ceased, and the human voice was suppressed. The notes of a plover, or the bleating of a lamb, or the lowing of a cow, might be heard making the quietness all the more impressive. The morning came pouring out blessings upon the people, like Christ Jesus on the Mount of Beatitudes, filling every open heart with sweetness, holiness, and inspiration. The blessed morning came to lead the father and mother, with their sons and daughters, up into the mountain of God's House, to stand in the presence of the Lord of glory, and absorb the brightness that would shine in their faces for many days to come. The Sabbath was the great day of the week in the Covenanter's home.

Let us get a glimpse of these homes of the Covenanters, as they suffered when the storms of persecution swept the land. But will not the dwelling-place of the righteous be protected from harm? Will not the Lord, in His glorious presence, hover over them as a cloud by day and as a flaming fire by night? Hath He not said, "Upon all the glory shall be a defence?" Shall the cruel persecutor then have power to tread on that sacred threshold? May the ruthless slayer enter this little sanctuary, where God and His children dwell together in mutual and unquenchable love? Will the wicked be permitted to draw the sword, and quench the coals on the hearth, and the fire on the altar, with the blood of the worshipers? The answer is found in the story of the sufferings of the Covenanters.

God had now begun judgment at His own House. He was testing the fidelity of His people. The test must touch every point, cover every relation, and reach the degree of suffering that satisfies His mysterious will. God cares much, even for houses, fields, harvests, garners, comforts, conveniences, earthly ties—He cares much for all these as they affect His people. He cares infinitely more, however, for their moral cleanness, spiritual growth, untarnished fidelity, unconquerable faith, and everlasting honor. Therefore He permits the furnace to be heated, and sometimes heated sevenfold; yet He brings them out of the flames without the smell of fire on their garments.

[!--IMG--] The Howie Home, Lochgoin. The house is located in one of Scotland's solitudes. Here the Howies have lived for 28 successive generations, keeping the altar fire burning since 1178. The present house is modern, bearing the date 1858; John Howie, the present occupant, (1912), is the 28th lineal descendant of one of the first settlers. We had the pleasure of meeting this genial Scotchman in his meadow, as he was making hay one fine August day. He immediately laid his fork aside, and brought us to his house, where we were deeply interested in a fine collection of souvenirs of the martyrs and their times.

The persecutors, heartless as the rocks and frigid as the iceberg, had equal disregard for the rights of men, the delicacy of women, and the innocency of children. A few incidents will show the general conditions. Nor are these exceptional cases; thousands, yea, tens of thousands suffered in like manner.

A Home at Lochgoin. This is a very ancient residence of the Covenanters. The Howies have lived here since 1178, the twenty-eighth generation now occupying the house. The building is stone, one story high, with a loft. While the persecution raged, this was a chief resort of the Covenanters. Occupying a solitary place, with a vast out-stretch of waste moorland on every side, this house was like the shadow of a great rock in a weary land: the pursued often found shelter under its roof. Hither Peden, Cameron, Renwick, Paton, and many others repaired, and found a cordial welcome. On one occasion a group had come to spend the night in prayer. They felt comparatively secure, because a storm was raging over the moor. The clouds were pouring down torrents, and the fitful gusts were playing wildly across the broad expanse of moss and heather. These men of God knew how to wrestle with the Angel of the Covenant, and betimes continued their prayers till the break of day. The pursuers had scented their game; in the morning a detachment of cavalry rode up to the house. The Covenanters escaped through the back door. To give them more time, Mrs. Howie stood in front of the soldiers, and disputed their entrance into the house. A burly dragoon attempted to push in. She grappled him by the shoulder, whirled him about, and shoved him out with such force that he fell to the ground. Her Covenanted guests all escaped, and the soldiers, after a fruitless pursuit, withdrew. For this heroic service Mrs. Howie suffered much and her life was sought. Often she had to leave her home, and spend whole nights in the cold, damp moor, with a tender babe on her breast.

A Home near Muirkirk. James Glendinning was a shepherd whose humble cottage escaped not the notice of the persecutor. Knowing the danger that enshrouded his home, he arose one evening from his knees after family worship, and, walking softly across the floor, uncovered the cradle and gently lifted the babe, which he tenderly placed on the mother's knee, saying, "I commit you, my dear wife, and this sweet babe to the fatherly care of the Great Shepherd of Israel. If my days be cut short, God, the God under whose shadow we have taken refuge, will be to you a Husband, and to this child a Father." Not long after this, the home was beset by a company of soldiers. That very night his wife had constrained him to retire to his hiding-place near by. The soldiers rudely rushed into the house, expecting to pounce upon him as their prey. Not finding him they were enraged. Seizing the infant, they held the struggling form up in the face of the frantic mother, and, flashing a glittering sword, threatened to cut it into pieces, if she did not reveal the hiding-place of her husband. At that moment the father, who had been attracted to the door, seeing the manoeuvres, rushed in. His soul was on fire; he was just then strong as ten men; he feared not consequences. "Hold, ye murderers! Back! back!" cried he, waving his sword in their faces. He sprang toward his babe and rescued it, while he used his sword with telling effect upon the intruders. The soldiers retreated, leaving the floor sprinkled with their blood. The family soon afterward removed to Holland.

A Home near Closeburn. James Nivison was a farmer whose hospitable home afforded comfort and shelter to many who were houseless. He was an unbending Covenanter. Nothing could daunt his noble soul. Being threatened with trouble and loss, he once replied, that if the turning of a straw, in obedience to unprincipled and arbitrary rulers, would save him from harm, he would not comply. His wife was of equal heroism. His home was so often beset by soldiers in search of him, that he had to retire to the solitudes. He one day said to his wife, "My dear wife, stern necessity demands our temporary separation. God will be with us both—you at the home, and me in the wilderness." "I will accompany you," she firmly replied; "I will accompany you. If the archers hit you, I will be there to staunch your wounds and to bind up your bleeding head. In whatever danger you may be, I will be at your side, your affectionate wife, in life or in death." They went out together. Sadly they closed the door of their pleasant home, to wander, not knowing where. The mother carried a tender little babe in her bosom. Their first retreat was found in the woods, then in different caves. They made a basket of twigs for the infant. The mother, sitting in the mouth of the cold cavern, would rock her little darling, and sing the soft lullabies that mingled with the sighing of the winds. They survived the persecution.

Sweet home! The Covenanted home is but an annex of heaven. Home is God's institution, endowed by Him with the wealth of infinite grace, furnished with holy ordinances, and consecrated with the blood of Christ. Do we appreciate the value, the dignity, and the advantage of a Covenanted home? Do we keep the home bright, cheerful, and inspiring, by worshiping our Covenant God, and honoring the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ?