IN these days of liberty in our cherished England, it is difficult to realize the bondage of the past. That there was a time when it was considered a crime to read the word of God, seems hard for us to understand. A great deal depends upon the sovereign, and we owe much, under God, to the peaceful reign of our honored Queen. There have been monarchs on the throne of England who would neither read the Bible themselves nor allow their subjects to do so. In their self-will and ignorance, they quite overlooked the fact, that a man's conscience is not a thing which a sovereign can order, as he would a servant. He may command his subjects outwardly to accept the religion preferred by royalty; but a man can never be made to believe that -which he doubts, even at the command of a monarch.
Such a vain attempt did Mary, Queen of England, make, in seeking to compel her people to follow popery. For there beat honest hearts on English soil, who would not forswear their conscience to suit a monarch's folly. Consequently such faithful ones were made to suffer, and many to die, to please the blood-thirsty queen. Her reign was so full of bloodshed that her name is handed down in history with that word which ever reminds us of her ungodly deeds.
The young King Edward VI., who preceded her, had honored the Bible and given perfect liberty in his kingdom regarding the sacred book. Nay more, he encouraged the study of it, by having a large copy placed where any one might read. This plan for bringing the scriptures within reach of the people had been adopted by his father, Henry VIII., sixteen years before, though not from any personal love for the word, as was the case with the young king. It was usual to fasten it by a chain, to a stand or desk in the churches.
It was only within the means of a few to possess Bibles in those days. One copy cost many pounds, and was too large and bulky to be carried about like the present pocket Bibles. In addition to these difficulties, there were few who could read, so that not many could directly profit. It was therefore no uncommon sight to see a number of people around one person, a little more learned than themselves, who read to them the words of life. It must have been a very interesting scene when the eye lighted upon such an earnest group. I am sure my young reader would have been delighted to look upon those earnest faces, and to listen to a style of reading which would be difficult for us to understand now. Jeremiah the prophet could say to God, "Thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of my heart," and so doubtless could many a soul say in the days of King Edward VI.
That brief reign of six years and a half brought these happy peaceful days to an end. For the accession of Mary after his death brought a bigoted Roman Catholic to the English throne, and liberty for the conscience was unknown in England while she lived. The result was that able, learned, and God-fearing men, in common with all, were expected to bow to her wishes in religious matters, whether it suited them or not. That the queen should be obeyed was right and lawful, they very well knew, but that she should rule their consciences was a thing to which they could not agree. The reason was simple—the word of God and the queen's wishes were not alike, and consequently obedience to the monarch meant disobedience to God. Therefore sorrow and trouble became their earthly lot, yet withal, many grew brighter in soul as the days of persecution increased in fury.
When command and threat alike had failed to cause a faithful man to deny the truth of God, nothing but death remained for him. Consequently, many a noble-hearted believer in Jesus was speedily sent from earth to heaven by the fires which popery kindled in the reign of Queen Mary. A brief examination settled the point of guilt. The suspected person was brought before his judges to answer them on one particular point. A word was sufficient, and on it, hung the doom of the person suspected. The whole thing hinged on whether one error of Rome was believed or denied. That was the false and foolish Romish doctrine, that the bread, used to remind us of the body of Christ, actually became His body of flesh after being blessed by the priest. When these faithful ones denied that error, only the stake and the fire remained for them on earth.
The first to suffer was John Rogers, a faithful and much-loved preacher of the gospel. During a residence on the Continent, he had met with such pious and learned men as William Tyndale and Miles Coverdale. These, and other Englishmen, were exiles from their country because of their faithfulness, and were occupied in the translation of the scriptures.
The society of such Bible-loving men was good for John Rogers, and he too gained an intimate knowledge of the word of God. During Edward's reign, Rogers returned to this country to preach the gospel. He continued to do so after Mary had ascended the throne of England, but it was only for a brief space. A notable sermon which he preached at St. Paul's Cross in London, brought upon him the displeasure of the queen. He had openly warned the people against the popish errors so soon, alas! to be forced on them, and bade them stand true to sacred writ. When put upon trial and ordered to make his defense, he did it so ably, and with such power, that he was allowed to go free.
Regardless, however, of punishment or danger, he continued to preach the truth of God.
Once again the brave John Rogers was called before a council of bishops, because he would not give up Christ for popery. The queen had commanded that nothing but her corrupt religion should have any liberty in her realms. It was disobedience to this unrighteous law, that brought that persevering servant of God again into notice. He was ordered to be kept shut up in his own house, as within the walls of a prison. But that kind of imprisonment, trying as it was to him, was not severe enough to please his enemies. Bonner, bishop of London, a man notable for his cruelty and wicked zeal, arranged to have John Rogers taken from his home to a common prison. Within the walls of Newgate therefore, that christian man was forced to pass his days among the worst criminals of the land.
Still, all that indignity and shame were only leading on to more and more. A day arrived when he was awakened from sleep with the startling news that he was to be committed to the flames. Only one request he had to make, and that was harshly denied. It was, that he might see his beloved wife before being taken to the stake, but even the melancholy satisfaction of a sad farewell to those he loved, was too much for his cruel persecutors to grant.
Before leaving the jail, the sheriff, as the representative of the law, called to ask Rogers to recant. The answer of the latter was clear and decided: "That, which I have preached, I will seal with my blood."
“Thou art a heretic," the sheriff said.
"That shall be known at the day of judgment," answered Rogers.
“Well, I will never pray for thee," said the sheriff.
"But I will pray for you," was the Christ-like reply, called forth from lips so soon to be silent in death.
The victim was led to Smithfield with a heart so sustained by God, that he comforted himself by repeating a psalm as he passed along. Many who looked on praised God for the grace given to that beloved man, so cheerfully going to death. His wife, carrying her babe, and accompanied by their ten children, met him as he went onwards. Oh, how she and they must have longed for a parting word! But, alas, it only the further pleased the persecutors, thus to tear a good man from his wife, his family, and every earthly tie. Whatever he felt, he looked perfectly calm, and did not allow natural affection to hinder his dying testimony.
“The fires of Smithfield" bear to us even now an awful meaning, for we know that many a precious one was there committed to their mercy. But oh, to those who lived in those days, what a scene of dread and suffering would the very words present! Those who were faithful to God and His word, must often have trembled when the possibility of such a death came before their minds. Yet, when the moment arrived, the weakest believer found that an unchanging God was on his side. The calm peace, and even cheerfulness and joy, manifest in such circumstances, sheaved that the source of all was not of earth. The apostle Paul wrote, “If God be for us, who can be against us?" and, quoting David's words, he adds, "For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter." Those early martyrs knew something of that condition, and yet they could have said with Paul, “Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through him that loved us."
Let us look for a little at the scene around John Rogers at the stake in Smithfield. Mary, the Queen of England, was about to send him from her presence, but God was going to receive his soul on high. That was a place of which she knew nothing. Noblemen, officials in authority, private persons who were rigid Romanists, besides men who loved the man about to die, were assembled to see the end. As usual, an endeavor was made to make him deny his faith in Christ, and own the Romish Church. A pardon was brought and offered, if he would only recant. But no, not even a pardon tempted him; he desired only to be kept faithful. The patience manifested by this worthy man was most remarkable, and his steadfast spirit was upheld to the end.
When the fire had been lighted, and even had begun to do its work, the flames seemed to possess no terror for him. He was seen to put his hands amid the flames, as if washing them in the coldest water. Then, lifting them towards heaven, he remained in that position, till they were burnt in the fire as it rose. Speedily that fire at Smithfield did its work, and naught remained but smoldering ashes. The body of John Rogers, the faithful servant of God and preacher of the gospel, was reduced to dust, and his enemies were satisfied. But every atom in these ashes is precious in God's sight, as part of a body purchased by the blood of Christ.
And thus was a happy believer set free from the pain and sorrows of earth, to pass into the paradise of God. Fire was but the gate of entrance—the flame only snapped asunder the last link with earth. Our hearts go back with pity when we think of what those martyrs endured, yet let it also be with hearty thanksgiving. For, surely, we may truly thank God that He kept them “steadfast, unmoveable," as only divine power could. It is easy for us to say it now, but may we not also thank the Lord that men have been honored to die for Him? Even face to face with death, many a martyr felt it a holy, happy privilege thus to show to the world that Christ was dearer than life.