But we must return to the cabin where the roof-tree had thus fallen in its prime, and where yet, through faith and hope that is in Christ Jesus, the widow was enabled, amid the desolation of all things earthly, still to bear up, and amid her first tears, to thank God that her husband had departed in peace. The delirium had ceased about an hour before his death, and he had bade his Margaret remember that, though while spared to his family they had a right to look to him for support, yet he had been but the instrument, in God’s hands, for providing it; and that now he was taken from them, God would be sure to supply their necessities through some other channel, rather than be wanting to his promise of being a “husband to the widow, and a father to the fatherless.” He bade her read him the eighth chapter of Romans, “that blessed chapter,” he said, “which begins with no condemnation and ends with no separation.” When she came to the words “killed all the day long—accounted as sheep for the slaughter,” he fixed his eyes upon her; and as she read on, “in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us,” he repeated after her “more than conquerors through Him,” “more than conquerors.” And as she read further, “I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus,” he bowed his head as if in experimental assent, and his spirit departed to God who gave it.
Such had been M’Kenzie’s end; and his widow as she thought of his freed spirit rejoicing before the Throne and with the Lamb, was comforted, and found peace in the expectation of the time when she and his little ones should also be summoned to that land where “they neither hunger nor thirst any more.”
That night she read the latter part of the seventh chapter of the Revelation with her children; and as she told how their father was now among this “great multitude,” little Moggie cried, and asked as she shivered with the cold, why they might not go to him; for “O mither, though ye hae read that there’s nae heat there, onie mair than here, yet gin there’s nae hunger, it wadna be sae sair to bear.”
The tears fell fast from Margaret’s eyes, the first tears she had shed, as she took the child upon her knee, and told her that none could enter that land, but those whom God was pleased to call there, and that till he gave the summons we must patiently abide here, suffering his will, and enduring unto the end whatever he sees fit. “And oh, Moggie, lass,” she added, “ye ken I bless God ye hae aye kennit, since ye were auld enoo’ to understand, ‘that our Heavenly Father so loved the world that he gave his only Son to die for us;’ ‘and now shall he not with him also freely give us all things?’ And as he gives hunger and cold to us now, it’s because they’re best for us, for he could give food and firing just as easily. And oh, my dear bairns, doesna’ it soften your pangs to think that your Father in Heaven sends them?”
Moggie put her arm round her mother’s neck and nodded assent and tried to smile, but the shivering that had seized her was the beginning of the fever, and she too drooped and died. Margaret told her that the summons had now come for her, and she asked her if she would like to go to the Lord Jesus, the good shepherd who had said, “Suffer the little children to come to me?” The child could not speak, but she stretched her arms upward, and ere they fell again at her side, she knew what it was to be gathered among the lambs of the heavenly pasture; she knew (oh, may we all one day know too), what it is to “be with Jesus.”
The little stock of meal that the clansmen had brought with them on the day of M’Kenzie’s funeral, was now exhausted; the cow had ceased to yield any milk, and would have been killed for food, but none had strength to deal the fatal blow. The extremity of destitution had now come upon the bereaved family. The poor infant sought in vain for the nourishment that was no longer supplied, and cried and mourned upon its mother’s knees. The two elder boys were down with the fever, but they struggled hard with it, their summons was not sounded yet.
And do you ask how Margaret and her children were supported? She shall answer for herself. “We lived upon the promises of God’s Word, and when they seemed to tarry, we just read the fourth of Philippians, and so were enabled to wait, though they tarry, through Christ that strengtheneth us in the spirit.”
Oh, the blessings of a Bible education; if those who undervalue, or would substitute something else in its stead, could just contrast the peace of a Highland family, with the despair of an Irish cabin, where the Scriptures are unknown, and the way of salvation is hidden from their eyes; they would surely be content to give the Scriptures, at all events, to those to whom they can secure no earthly good beside. And may those who have the Scriptures and have with them the good things of this life, learn to prize them the more highly, when they see those who have received them into their hearts and minds, “thankful and contented amid the horrors of starvation.”[5]
But we digress,—two days had come and gone without food of any kind, and as she had no breakfast to give them, Margaret had let her children sleep late in the morning; and when, ere she lay down at night by their side, she had looked on their pale wan faces, the skin prematurely shrivelled and wrinkled, the bones projecting in place of the dimpled roundness of childhood, she felt that their hours must be numbered, and often instead of sleeping, she rose and put her ear close to each, that she might be sure they still breathed. And she shrunk overpowered from the thought of passing another night thus; and then the weary day that followed—deserted by all, not a living thing came near the dwelling. Still strong in faith, Margaret cheered her remaining little ones till evening came, and they asked her to pray that they might go to their father and Moggie. She asked if they would leave her then alone? they said she should ask to go too. And then the second girl Jeanie asked why, if God heard prayer, he had not heard theirs and given them bread? It is written, “He giveth not account of any of his matters,” said the mother solemnly. “It is written, too, ‘He doth not willingly afflict the children of men,’ and (in pity to the weakness of our faith, and as if to meet the very cravings of our questioning), it is most graciously written also, ‘What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.’” This was said, as is generally the case with the Scotch in speaking directly of Scripture, in the pure English of the authorized version; it was also said, in a tone of rebuke, for perhaps nothing could have excited her feelings so deeply as the idea of unbelief of God’s Word, or distrust of God’s love in any of her children. It was as though the enemy had found entrance; as though the wolf, seeking whom he might devour, had got into her little fold. She took the child on her knee, “Jeanie, lass,” she said, “It is nae sae lang syne that you should forget the day your father corrected ye and kept you withouten yer parritch for dinner or supper, because ye’d displeased and disobeyed him; and did ye think then either that he could na’ have bidden me gie ye the parritch; or that he had nae gude reason for not bidding me. Ye thinkit nae siccan a thing, Jeanie, and ye maun ken that your Heavenly Father has a right to chasten ye, as well as your earthly, and ye maun feel as well as ken that he does it for your profit.” The little girl leant her head against her mother’s shoulder and wept; and Margaret kissed her, and continued soothingly,—“I dinna expect ye to find it pleasant, lass, ‘for no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous.’ And this is grievous above measure, in especial for weans like ye; but remember we ‘do not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord.’ And pray, pray to him to forgive you the thought of your heart, and to make you ‘trust him, though you canna trace him;’ he says, ‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.’ You saw that he was with your father and Moggie, yet they died, but He was with them as the life of their spirit, and now they are with Him for ever.” The child, soothed by her voice and warmed by her embrace, ere long fell asleep in her arms; and thus Margaret passed the dreaded night. She would not move for fear of breaking the deep, sound sleep; but the presence of her God was with her, and none of the terrors of darkness were suffered to approach her.
The morning dawn showed Margaret her other children stretched on their mattress as usual; but the grey cat, their constant companion had disappeared. Stiff and weary, the mother laid herself down by them and fell asleep; and the day was far advanced when she again opened her eyes on the scene of so much suffering. The fever had not attacked the others; and the boys who had had it, were recovering, though so weak that without nourishment as they were, it was plain they could not long survive. The baby seldom unclosed its eyes, it lay and slumbered either on its mother’s lap, or on a bundle of rags in a corner of the room. The rest had become too weak to cry, too faint to talk, and except when the chapter was read, and the prayer arose, or when Margaret repeated aloud some promise from God’s Word to support the hearts of her little ones, silence reigned in the cottage. Exhaustion produced drowsiness, and quieted the pangs of hunger. The hope of procuring food had almost deserted her; the only dwelling within two miles, was a solitary cabin, whose tenants were little likely to be better provided than herself; and Margaret felt that she had now only to wait in patience, till He who hath the keys of death, should open the portals of the shadowy valley and lead them all through it, to the mansions prepared for them above. Her own strength was wonderful; it could not be natural strength, for that had been drained by her infant, and by long abstinence and painful watching; it was the strength of woman’s devotedness, upheld by faith in the Word of God.