The King's Daughters Part 26

Oh, how England needs such a prophetess now! and above all, those "halting Gospellers," the men who talk sweetly about charity and toleration, and sit still, and will not come to the help of the Lord against the mighty! They sorely want reminding that Christ has said, "He that is not with us is against us." It is a very poor excuse to say, "Oh, I am not doing any harm." Are you doing any good? That is the question. If not, a wooden post is as good as you are. And are you satisfied to be no better than a wooden post?

What grand opportunities there are before boys and girls on the threshold of life! What are you going to do with your life? Remember, you have only one. And there are only two things you can do with it.

You must give it to somebody--and it must be either G.o.d or Satan. All the lives that are not given to G.o.d fall into the hands of Satan. There are very few people who say to themselves deliberately, Now, I will not give my life to G.o.d. They only say, Oh, there's plenty of time; I won't do it just now; I want to enjoy myself. They don't know that there is no happiness on earth like that of deciding for G.o.d. And so they go on day after day, not deciding either way, but just frittering their lives away bit by bit, until the last day comes, and the last bit of life, and then it is too late to decide. Would you like such a poor, mean, valueless thing as this to be the one life which is all you have? Would you not rather have a bright, rich, full life, with G.o.d Himself for your best friend on earth, and then a triumphal entry into the Golden City, and the singer's harp, and the victor's palm, and the prince's crown, and the King's "Well done, good and faithful servant?"

Do you say, Yes. I would choose that, but I do not know how? Well, then, tell the Lord that. Say to Him, "Lord, I want to be Thy friend and servant, and I do not know how." Keep on saying it till He shows you how. He is sure to do it, for He cares about it much more than you do. Never fancy for one minute that G.o.d does not want you to go to Heaven, and that it will be hard work to persuade Him to let you in. He wants you to come more than you want it. He gave His own Son that you might come. "Greater love hath no man than this."

Now, will you not come to Him--will you not say to Him, "Lord, here am I; take me"? Are you going to let the Lord Jesus feel that all the cruel suffering which He bore for you was in vain? He is ready to save you, if you will let Him; but He will not do it against your will. How shall it be?

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE SONG OF TRIUMPH.

Elizabeth Foulkes was the last prisoner tried in the Moot Hall. The Commissioners then adjourned to the Castle. Here there were six prisoners, as before. The first arraigned was William Mount. He was asked, as they all were--it was the great test question for the Marian martyrs--what he had to say of the Sacrament of the altar, which was another name for the ma.s.s.

"I say that it is an abominable idol," was his answer.

"Wherefore comest thou not to confession?"

"Sirs, I dare not take part in any Popish doings, for fear of G.o.d's vengeance," said the brave old man.

Brave! ay, for the penalty was death. But what are they, of whom there are so many, whose actions if not words say that they dare not refuse to take part in Popish doings, for fear of man's scorn and ridicule? Poor, mean cowards!

It was not worth while to go further. William Mount was sentenced to death, and John Johnson was brought to the bar. Neither were they long with him, for he had nothing to say but what he had said before. He too was sentenced to die.

Then Alice Mount was brought up. She replied to their questions exactly as her husband had done. She was satisfied with his answers: they should be hers. Once more the sentence was read, and she was led away.

Then Rose Allen was placed at the bar. So little had the past daunted her, that she did more than defy the Commissioners: she made fun of them. Standing there with her burnt hand still in its wrappings, she positively laughed Satan and all his servants to scorn.

They asked her what she had to say touching the ma.s.s.

"I say that it stinketh in the face of G.o.d! [see Note 1] and I dare not have to do therewith for my life."

"Are you not a member of the Catholic Church?"

"I am no member of yours, for ye be members of Antichrist, and shall have the reward of Antichrist."

"What say you of the see of the Bishop of Rome?"

"I am none of his. As for his see, it is for crows, kites, owls, and ravens to swim in, such as you be; for by the grace of G.o.d I will not swim in that sea while I live, neither will I have any thing to do therewith."

Nothing could overcome the playful wit of this indomitable girl. She punned on their words, she laughed at their threats, she held them up to ridicule. This must be ended.

For the fourth time Dr Chedsey a.s.sumed the black cap. Rose kept silence while she was condemned to death. But no sooner had his voice ceased than, to the amazement of all who heard her, she broke forth into song. It was verily:

"The shout of them that triumph, The song of them that feast."

She was led out of the court and down the dungeon steps, singing, till her voice filled the whole court.

"Yea, though I walk through death's dark vale, Yet will I fear none ill; Thy rod, Thy staff doth comfort me, And Thou art with me still."

Which was the happier, do you think, that night? Dr Chedsey, who had read the sentence of death upon ten martyrs? or young Rose Allen, who was to be burned to death in five weeks?

When Rose's triumphant voice had died away, the gaoler was hastily bidden to bring the other two prisoners. The Commissioners were very much annoyed. It was a bad thing for the people who stood by, they thought, when martyrs insisted on singing in response to a sentence of execution. They wanted to make the spectators forget such scenes.

"Well, where be the prisoners?" said Sir John Kingston.

"Please, your Worships, they be at the bar!" answered the gaolor, with a grin.

"At the bar, man? But I see nought. Be they dwarfs?"

"Something like," said the gaoler.

He dragged up a form to the bar, and lifted on it, first, Will Johnson, and then Cissy.

"Good lack! such babes as these!" said Sir John, in great perplexity.

He felt it really very provoking. Here was a girl of twenty who had made fun of him in the most merciless manner, and had the audacity to sing when condemned to die, thus setting a shocking example, and awakening the sympathy of the public: and here, to make matters worse, were two little children brought up as heretics! This would never do.

It was the more awkward from his point of view, that Cissy was so small that he took her to be much younger than she was.

"I cannot examine these babes!" said he to Chedsey.

Dr Chedsey, in answer, took the examination on himself.

"How old art thou, my lad?" said he to Will.

Will made no answer, and his sister spoke up for him.

"Please, sir, he's six."

"And what dost thou believe?" asked the Commissioner, half scornfully, half amused.

"Please, we believe what Father told us."

"Who is their father?" was asked of the gaoler.

"Johnson, worshipful Sirs: Alegar, of Thorpe, that you have sentenced this morrow."

"Gramercy!" said Sir John. "Take them down, Wastborowe,--take them down, and carry them away. Have them up another day. Such babes!"

Cissy heard him, and felt insulted, as a young woman of her age naturally would.

"Please, Sir, I'm not a baby! Baby's a baby, but Will's six, and I'm going in ten. And we are going to be as good as we can, and mind all Father said to us."

"Take them away--take them away!" cried Sir John.

Wastborowe lifted Will down.