His regular service on one occasion fell on the anniversary of the king’s restoration to the throne.  The house was crowded; the country was rejoicing with the king, though he had already launched upon the crimson tide of persecution.  Casting a glance over the audience and judging that many had come to do the king honor, his soul flamed into indignation, and his eyes flashed with scorn for the crowned murderer.  “We are not here,” said he, “to keep this day as others keep it.  We thought once to bless the day when the king came home again, but now we have reason to curse it.  If any of you have come to solemnize this day, we desire you to remove.”  Then arising into passionate vehemence, he cried, “Woe, woe, woe unto the king!  His name shall be a stench while the world stands, for treachery, tyranny, and lechery.”  From that day they sought his life to take it away; yet he lived and preached twenty more years.

[Illustration:  Donald Cargill.

Donald Cargill received the martyr’s crown in 1681, after passing through 20 years of persecution.  He died on the scaffold at the age of 71.  Standing beneath the rope he exclaimed, “This is the sweetest and most glorious day that ever mine eyes did see.”  He sang Psalm 118, from the 16th verse.  Then crying out in a rapture of joy, “Welcome, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, into Thy hands I commit my spirit,” he entered within the veil.]

Cargill’s life was tossed about on roughest waves.  He made many narrow escapes.  Near his early home lies a deep valley, adown which a mountain stream rushes within a rock-rimmed channel, churning itself into milky whiteness.  On one occasion he was pursued by soldiers all the way from Dundee, nine miles distant.  He fled down the steep cliff and leaped the chasm.  The soldiers following him came to the spot but dared not to jump.  Cargill walked up the opposite embankment and escaped.  Being reminded one day that he had made a good leap he humorously replied, “Yes, but I had a good run before the leap.”

At another time he saw a group of soldiers approaching in search of him.  He coolly walked forward and, taking a square look at them, went on.  They not knowing him personally never once thought that a man of such an airy countenance could be the one for whom they were searching.  At Queensferry the house still stands where he and Captain Hall were arrested.  The brave Captain threw himself between Cargill and the officer.  The struggle was a tough one; Hall was mortally wounded; Cargill, too, was much hurt but escaped.  But this did not prevent him from keeping his engagement at a Conventicle; he preached in his wounds.  Nothing but death seemed able to check this man of God in the work of the Gospel.  His greatest service however is yet to be related.

Have we incorporated the element of Divine strength into our lives?  Do we make the throne of Jesus our viewpoint, from whence we see all things related to Him, and through Him to each other?  Do we stand for the right, however weak that side may seem, knowing that all the powers that be of God are on that side?  The times call for heroic lives, men who will not flinch under reproach, nor apologize for their convictions; men who will support the truth at any cost, and denounce sin at every hazard.  Can the Church now furnish such men?