Renwick’s visit to Peden’s Death-bed

The names and circumstances may change, but the nature of things rarely change for those of us in perilous, persecuted times.

Through the small and dingy lattice gleamed the last red beams of day—
One wintry burst from the setting sun—where the dying prophet lay;
Where, from his weary wanderings, with toil and suffering worn,
He had come close to his pilgrimage within his native Sorn.
His eyes are closed, but not in sleep—he murmurs forth a prayer,
That poor and wasted remnant, Lord, do Thou in sweet mercy spare!

The wolf has burst into the fold, the shepherds they are gone,
In all our hills and valleys round we are not left with one.
As he entered, Peden raised his eyes, and asked the strangers name,
And what the errand was for which to this lone place he came:–
‘Father, my name is Renwick, I have come to speak with thee—
To see thee in these troublous times, and crave thy prayers for me!’

The old man’s face with something flushed between the scowl and sneer,
For false reports against the young were scattered far and near:
‘Are you the Renwick that has made such noise throughout the land?
Turn round about, and let me view your measure as you stand.

Narrow thy shoulders, frail thy limbs; slim youth, thy heart is bold!
If thou dost not think that thou alone canst Scotland’s Church uphold!
‘O father, do not mock me thus; to thee my spirit cleaves;
The railing Shimeis pain me not, but thy least whisper grieves.

The noise and strife are not by me, my Lord’s reproach I bear;
And in the scandal of His Cross I also have found my share:
They seek to drive me from the land, a hissing and a scorn!
O father, hear and pity me, my heart with grief is torn!

The old man softened as the dew, and Renwick’s hand he takes—
‘Tis a bloody land—a treacherous time! We walk on asps and snakes,
Sit down by me, and tell me o’er the story of thy life
For well I know that cruel words cut sharper than a knife.

Peden did not die in a cave as is often reported. I think that is a bit of Covenanter Folklore, and myth to add to the legend that Alexander Peden was. But it isn”t true though he did spend some time living in a cave before that.

Renwick’s visit to Peden’s Death-bed

The names and circumstances may change, but the nature of things rarely change for those of us in perilous, persecuted times.

Through the small and dingy lattice gleamed the last red beams of day—
One wintry burst from the setting sun—where the dying prophet lay;
Where, from his weary wanderings, with toil and suffering worn,
He had come close to his pilgrimage within his native Sorn.
His eyes are closed, but not in sleep—he murmurs forth a prayer,
That poor and wasted remnant, Lord, do Thou in sweet mercy spare!

The wolf has burst into the fold, the shepherds they are gone,
In all our hills and valleys round we are not left with one.
As he entered, Peden raised his eyes, and asked the strangers name,
And what the errand was for which to this lone place he came:–
‘Father, my name is Renwick, I have come to speak with thee—
To see thee in these troublous times, and crave thy prayers for me!’

The old man’s face with something flushed between the scowl and sneer,
For false reports against the young were scattered far and near:
‘Are you the Renwick that has made such noise throughout the land?
Turn round about, and let me view your measure as you stand.

Narrow thy shoulders, frail thy limbs; slim youth, thy heart is bold!
If thou dost not think that thou alone canst Scotland’s Church uphold!
‘O father, do not mock me thus; to thee my spirit cleaves;
The railing Shimeis pain me not, but thy least whisper grieves.

The noise and strife are not by me, my Lord’s reproach I bear;
And in the scandal of His Cross I also have found my share:
They seek to drive me from the land, a hissing and a scorn!
O father, hear and pity me, my heart with grief is torn!

The old man softened as the dew, and Renwick’s hand he takes—
‘Tis a bloody land—a treacherous time! We walk on asps and snakes,
Sit down by me, and tell me o’er the story of thy life
For well I know that cruel words cut sharper than a knife.

Peden did not die in a cave as is often reported. I think that is a bit of Covenanter Folklore, and myth to add to the legend that Alexander Peden was. But it isn”t true though he did spend some time living in a cave before that.