Renwick received the martyr’s crown at the age of twenty-six.  His limp body was borne from the scaffold to Greyfriar’s churchyard.  A spot of ground, a few yards square, had been allotted there for criminals.  The Covenanters in these days were accounted criminals by the civil authorities.  Here the ground was stirred again and again, till the bodies of 100 martyrs were heaped together, and Renwick’s was the last.  A suitable stone bearing his name, and referring to the others, now graces this hundredfold grave.  What a cluster of gems the Lord will find here, in the day when He makes up His jewels!

When the Blue Banner fell from Renwick’s lifeless hand, Alexander Shields grasped it.  He was scarcely worthy.  Though he had served well and suffered much in former years, yet once he had lapsed.  This temporary defection, while pardonable, proved to be a symptom of inherent weakness that unfitted him for leadership.  For his fault he shed tears, but they could not remove the stain, nor restore confidence.  The fearless Covenanters continued the struggle, their own spiritual momentum being sufficient to carry them forward with or without leaders.  The persecution had now reached its eventide; the sunset was showing some rosy tints; a bright day would soon be dawning.  This year, 1688, William, Prince of Orange, with an army of 15,000, disputed the right of King James to the throne.  The persecutor was able to give the Covenanters no more attention.  The coward fled without a battle.  He lost his kingdom, and, with his fall, the house of the Stuarts sank into oblivion, as had been predicted by the Covenanters.

The Revolution filled the Covenanted Societies with high hope.  They became enthusiastic supporters of the new king, expecting him to inaugurate a reign of righteousness.  A Convention of statesmen met in Edinburgh, to readjust public affairs and restore peace.  Claverhouse, too, was there, still dripping with the blood of the martyrs.  He had dashed suddenly upon the scene with his troops to break up the Convention, and give battle to King William’s supporters.  The Convention was without a sufficient guard.  The delegates were in danger.  To whom could they look for protection?  Listen!  The call is to the Cameronians; to the men who have borne the brunt of persecution for twenty-eight years, and are now quietly returning from the moors and caverns to their desolate homes.  To these who have been hated and hunted and tortured and hacked to pieces—­to these the government now appeals for help.  These, after all they have suffered, are the Reliables.  They are the recognized patriots, who stand ready for any sacrifice, and are worthy of any trust, in the name of liberty and righteousness.  “We are coming,” was their quick reply.  A regiment was mustered in one day without the beat of a drum; two others were offered.  The poor Covenanters were not now despised.

[Illustration:  The martyrdom of Renwick.