An Eventful Night

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 18, 1875

An Eventful Night.

THREE travelers, weary and travel-stained, toiled over the wide moor, seeking the least frequented, the most difficult and dangerous passes; pausing at the top of each ridge to look fearfully behind them, and listening anxiously to every sound that the wind bore to their ears. One could see at a glance that they were fleeing from the hands of an enemy. And so they were. They were three godly Covenanters, seeking to escape from the soldiers. They had been at a meeting of God's saints, held in a wild and lonely glen. Just as the worship was about to begin, their watchman on the heights gave warning that a troop of horses were coming toward them. And the congregation had been obliged to break up, each man seeking his safety as best he might. The three friends we have seen on the moor kept together, seeking a ford by which they could cross the river. The two older men, farmers, were not far from their own homes, and might soon have been safely housed. But they were determined not to leave their younger companion till they had seen him to the other side of the water. He was the minister who was to have conducted the services of the conventicle—James Renwick, one of the most godly, spiritual-minded and devoted of all the many servants of God wherewith he had blessed his persecuted church in those days.

They reached the river side. There had been a heavy thunder-storm among the hills, and over the usually shallow, smooth ford was now rolling a brown and angry stream into which they feared to enter. “Let us first kneel down and ask the Lord to take us over in safety,” said Mr. Renwick. His companions gladly agreed. And they withdrew among the alder bushes and presented their case before the Lord. Their short prayer ended, they rose and were going forward again to the edge of the stream, when, to their extreme surprise, they saw the whole party of their pursuers in the very act of riding through the ford, some already landed on the opposite side. They had come up to the river while these children of God were engaged in prayer, and feeling uneasy at the rapidly increasing strength of the torrent, had hastened to ride through the ford before it should become impossible to do so. Mr. Renwick and his friends waited until the troopers had disappeared, and then trusting in the Lord to uphold their steps, walked boldly into the river. They cut a long branch of the rowan-tree, and held it between them like a rope, so that if one lost his footing the other two might be able to help him. In this way they got to the other bank, and Renwick’s two companions, having bidden him farewell, passed through the ford in perfect safety to their own side. But even as they set foot on the bank, a fierce roaring was heard, and down came the stream in all its might and fury, carrying everything before it, and spreading itself over both banks. Mr. Renwick on one side, and his two friends on the other, rendered praise and thanks unto the Lord who had thus preserved them, and then pursued their roads.

The darkness of night was coming on, and Mr. Renwick saw that he could not hope to reach the friend’s house where he had purposed to spend the night. A very narrow, dark glen came in his way. He entered it, and finding a kind of hole sheltered by bushes in one of the rocky banks, he crept into it, lay down, and fell asleep. Further on in the night he awoke. A furious storm of wind and rain had come on. The wet had come through his leafy covering and drenched him to the skin. He sat up to think what he ought to do; and at that moment a faint sound of singing was borne past him on the wind. He fancied he recognized a psalm tune, and the fancy gladdened his heart. “A godly family at their evening devotions,” he said to himself; “surely with them I shall find shelter for the night.” And he set out at once in the direction from which the sounds seemed to come. The fierce blasts of the wind and the driving rain prevented him from hearing anything more distinctly. And as he fought against them he did not pause to listen until he stood before the door of the house he sought. Then, alas! he heard only too plainly that no psalm-singers were there, but a set of rioters, drinking toasts, singing plain songs, and laughing at coarse jests. His first thought was to leave the place and seek another shelter. But he was so wet and chilled that it seemed impossible to turn away from the ruddy firelight that came through the window. And he was so worn-out that he did not feel as if he could go many yards further. So, with his usual simple prayer to God for protection and guidance, he knocked at the door. It was opened by the master of the house, a shepherd named M’Culloch. He was a rude, hard man. But on this particular occasion his heart had been opened by feasting and merriment. He invited the stranger in, made him sit down by the fire and dry his clothes, and called loudly on his wife to bring in food and drink. Mrs. M’Culloch was as unlike her husband as could be. She was a staid, sober, godly woman. Her whole heart was with the Covenanters. And many a time had she sheltered and helped some of them without her husband’s knowledge. She saw at once that the grave young stranger who had come in, and who looked so pained and grieved at the rude, profane merriment around him, was one of that persecuted people. Her husband also soon perceived that his guest was very different from himself and his companions. And he began to look upon him with ill-will, and to mutter something about conventicles, and “dogs of rebels and canting preachers.” His senses were, however, confused by the quantity of strong drink he had taken, and Mrs. M’Culloch succeeded in conducting Mr. Renwick to his bedroom without any more open token of enmity having been shown him. Here she had kindled a little fire to dry his clothes, and telling him he would be quite safe, but that he ought not to tell her husband who he was, she left him, with a heartfelt prayer for his safety and comfort. He slept soundly and sweetly and did not awake till a late hour on the following morning. Looking out of the bed, he saw at once that all his clothes had been carried away from the screen before the fire where he had hung them the previous night to dry. And he began to fear that his hostess was treacherous, and meant to keep him a prisoner. But at that moment the woman came in with a suit of her husband’s clothes. “Your own were so dripping wet,” she said, “I have not been able yet to get them thoroughly dried. My husband is away to drive his sheep off the low ground for fear of the floods. For some hours you will be quite safe here, and you can wear these things until your own are ready.” He rose and dressed himself, and having breakfasted, and, at the good woman’s request, conducted family prayers, he proposed to go out a little way to breathe the fresh air. She told him it would be quite safe for him to do so, but gave him a shepherd’s plaid to put on, as she said the breeze was still strong and chill. As he threw the plaid around his shoulders, one of the shepherd’s dogs, well used to that signal, rose and followed him out of the hut. He had gone but a few steps from the door, and was standing still to admire the brilliance and freshness of everything after last night’s rain, when a bark from the dog at his feet caused him to look around, and he saw a party of dragoons riding over the soft turf and not many yards from him. “I am in Thy hands, O Lord, for good or for evil,” he said, and stood calmly still till they came up to him. He had forgotten his change of dress, and never doubted that he should be instantly seized and carried off to prison. But the commander only greeted him civilly, and asked him who lived in the hut. “M’Culloch, a shepherd,” he answered, quietly. “Oh, I know him,” said one of the troopers; “he is a true man, and hates a Covenanter like poison.” “Are you M’Culloch, then?” asked the commander, “or is he in the house?” “No, sir. He’s away to the other side of the hill after his sheep.” “Oh, well, it does not signify. If he be the true man you say, we need not search his house for Covenanters. And, at any rate, I am very sure there are none on this side of the water. No one could cross after we did last night.” And he rode off leaving Mr. Renwick to return thanks to the Lord, who had preserved his righteous servants from the hands of his enemies. And thus will the Lord help all who put their trust in him. In every emergency, in every trial and temptation, he is always near us, and ever ready to guide and guard us. Oh, then let us have more faith in God. Let us trust in him always, and we will be sure to come out safe in the end.

Sinner, put your trust in God, and he will save you.—Sel.