But most beloved, do not expect that we shall bring you into Grecian theatres, to gaze on merry comedies or gay performances. Here shall not be opened unto you the pleasant arbors and pleasure gardens of Atlas, Adonis or Semiramis, which are said to have been built in the air, and of which the ancients used to sing their merry lays; yet far be it from us to conduct you to places of sadness, surely not to such as can, in verity, be called places of sadness.
True enough, we shall lead you into dark valleys, even into the valleys of death (Ps. 23:4), where nothing will be seen but dry bones, skulls, and frightful skeletons of those who have been slain; these beheaded, those drowned, others strangled at the stake, some burnt, others broken on the wheel, many torn by wild beasts, half devoured, and put to death in manifold cruel ways; besides, a great multitude who having escaped death, bear the marks of Jesus, their Savior, on their bodies, wandering about over mountains and valleys, through forests and wildernesses, forsaken of friends and kindred, robbed and stripped of all their temporal possessions, and living in extreme poverty.
Yet to look upon all this will not cause real sadness, for though the aspect is dismal according to the body, the soul will nevertheless rejoice in it, seeing that not one of all those who were slain preferred life to death, since life often was proffered them on condition that they depart from the constancy of their faith. But this they did not desire; on the contrary, many of them went boldly onward to meet death; some even hastened to outstrip others, that they might be the first, who did not shrink from suffering anything the tyrants could devise, nay more than could be thought possible for a mortal man to endure.
Among a great number we perceived a godfearing hero and knight of Christ,[3] who, advancing before others, went cheerfully unto suffering and death, in which he acquitted himself so well that he fought or pressed his way with such force through the strait gate, that he left his flesh on the posts.
When we had beheld this with the eyes of faith, and had meditated upon the matter, our spirit was kindled, and we almost seemed to welcome him, and to wish him everything good, in these words:
Klimt op uw’ gulden Hoogtt’, Voor-vechter van de bende
Der heyl’ge Zielen, die God’s roode Bloed-banier
Navolgde, in’t gedrang, in’t midden der ellenden,
Daer niet dan rook en damp van menschen offer-vyer
Tot door de wolken vloog; noch gingt gy Held haer voor,