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Title: The Ancient Banner

Author: Anonymous

Release date: October 6, 2006 [eBook #19482]

Language: English

Original publication: Philadelphia: Joseph Kite & Co., Printers, No. 50 North Fourth Street, 1846

Credits: Produced by Jason Isbell, K.D. Thornton, and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANCIENT BANNER ***

Transcriber's Notes:

Corrections made:

canvass corrected to canvas

buffetted corrected to buffeted

multipled corrected to multiplied

Equiped corrected to Equipped

steadfastnesss corrected to steadfastness

THE ANCIENT BANNER;

OR

Brief Sketches

OF PERSONS AND SCENES IN THE EARLY HISTORY

OF FRIENDS.

"THOU HAST GIVEN A BANNER TO THEM THAT FEARED THEE,

THAT IT MAY BE DISPLAYED BECAUSE OF THE TRUTH."

Psalm 60,—4.

PHILADELPHIA:

JOSEPH KITE & CO., PRINTERS,

No. 50 North Fourth Street.

1846.

THE

ANCIENT BANNER.

In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,

The bosom of his Father, and assumed

A servant's form, though he had reigned a king,

In realms of glory, ere the worlds were made,

Or the creating words, "Let there be light"

In heaven were uttered. But though veiled in flesh,

His Deity and his Omnipotence,

Were manifest in miracles. Disease

Fled at his bidding, and the buried dead

Rose from the sepulchre, reanimate,

At his command, or, on the passing bier

Sat upright, when he touched it. But he came,

Not for this only, but to introduce

A glorious dispensation, in the place

Of types and shadows of the Jewish code.

Upon the mount, and round Jerusalem,

He taught a purer, and a holier law,—

His everlasting Gospel, which is yet

To fill the earth with gladness; for all climes

Shall feel its influence, and shall own its power.

He came to suffer, as a sacrifice

Acceptable to God. The sins of all

Were laid upon Him, when in agony

He bowed upon the cross. The temple's veil

Was rent asunder, and the mighty rocks,

Trembled, as the incarnate Deity,

By his atoning blood, opened that door,

Through which the soul, can have communion with

Its great Creator; and when purified,

From all defilements, find acceptance too,

Where it can finally partake of all

The joys of His salvation.

But the pure Church he planted,—the pure Church

Which his apostles watered,—and for which,

The blood of countless martyrs freely flowed,

In Roman Amphitheatres,—on racks,—

And in the dungeon's gloom,—this blessed Church,

Which grew in suffering, when it overspread

Surrounding nations, lost its purity.

Its truth was hidden, and its light obscured

By gross corruption, and idolatry.

As things of worship, it had images,

And even painted canvas was adored.

It had a head and bishop, but this head

Was not the Saviour, but the Pope of Rome.

Religion was a traffic. Men defiled,

Professed to pardon sin, and even sell,

The joys of heaven for money,—and to raise

Souls out of darkness to eternal light,

For paltry silver lavished upon them.

And thus thick darkness, overspread the Church

As with a mantle.

At length the midnight of apostacy

Passed by, and in the horizon appeared,

Day dawning upon Christendom. The light,

Grew stronger, as the Reformation spread.

For Luther, and Melancthon, could not be

Silenced by papal bulls, nor by decrees

Of excommunication thundered forth

Out of the Vatican. And yet the light,

Of Luther's reformation, never reached

Beyond the morning's dawn. The noontide blaze

Of Truth's unclouded day, he never saw.

Yet after him, its rising sun displayed

More and more light upon the horizon.

Though thus enlightened, the professing Church,

Was far from many of the precious truths

Of the Redeemer's gospel; and as yet,

Owned not his Spirit's government therein.

But now the time approached, when he would pour

A larger measure of his light below;

And as he chose unlearned fishermen

To spread his gospel when first introduced,

So now he passed mere human learning by,

And chose an instrument, comparable

To the small stone the youthful David used,

To smite the champion who defied the Lord.

Apart from human dwellings, in a green

Rich pasturage of England, sat a youth,

Who seemed a shepherd, for around him there

A flock was feeding, and the sportive lambs

Gambolled amid the herbage. But his face

Bore evidence of sadness. On his knee

The sacred book lay open, upon which

The youth looked long and earnestly, and then,

Closing the book, gazed upward, in deep thought

This was the instrument by whom the Lord

Designed to spread a clearer light below

And fuller reformation. He appeared,

Like ancient Samuel, to be set apart

For the Lord's service from his very birth.

Even in early childhood, he refrained

From youthful follies, and his mind was turned

To things of highest moment. He was filled

With awful feelings, by the wickedness

He saw around him. As he grew in years,

Horror of sin grew stronger; and his mind

Became so clothed with sadness, and so full

Of soul-felt longings, for the healing streams

Of heavenly consolation, that he left

His earthly kindred, seeking quietude

In solitary places, where he read

The book of inspiration, and in prayer,

Sought heavenly counsel.

In this deep-proving season he was told,

Of priests, whose reputation had spread wide

For sanctity and wisdom; and from these

He sought for consolation,—but in vain.

One of these ministers became enraged,

Because the youth had inadvertently

Misstepped within his garden; and a priest

Of greater reputation, counselled him

To use tobacco, and sing holy psalms!

And the inquirer found a third to be

But as an empty, hollow cask at best.

Finding no help in man, the youthful Fox,

Turned to a higher and a holier source,

For light and knowledge. In his Saviour's school,

He sat a scholar, and was clearly shown

The deep corruption, that had overspread

Professing Christendom. And one by one,

The doctrines of the Gospel, were unveiled,

To the attentive student,—doctrines, which,

Though clearly written on the sacred page,

Had long been hidden, by the rubbish man's

Perversions and inventions heaped thereon.

He saw that colleges, could not confer,

A saving knowledge of the way of Truth,

Nor qualify a minister to preach

The everlasting Gospel; but that Christ,

Is the true Teacher, and that he alone

Has power to call, anoint, and qualify,

And send a Gospel minister to preach

Glad tidings of salvation. He was shown,

No outward building, made of wood and stone

Could be a holy place,—and that the Church—

The only true and living Church—must be

A holy people gathered to the Lord,

And to his teaching. He was clearly taught,

The nature of baptism, by which souls

Are purified and fitted for this Church;

That this was not, by being dipped into,

Or sprinkled with clear water, but it was

The one baptism of the Holy Ghost.

He saw the Supper was no outward food,

Made and administered by human hands,—

But the Lord's Table was within the heart;

Where in communion with him, holy bread

Was blessed and broken, and the heavenly wine,

Which cheers the fainting spirit, handed forth.

The Saviour showed him that all outward wars,

Are now forbidden,—that the warfare here,

Is to be waged within. Its weapons too,

Though mighty, even to the pulling down,

Of the strong holds of Satan, are yet all

The Spirit's weapons. He was shown, that oaths

Judicial or profane, are banished from

The Christian dispensation, which commands,

"Swear not at all." He saw the compliments,—

Hat honour, and lip service of the world,

Sprang from pride's evil root, and were opposed

To the pure spirit of Christ's holy law.

And by His inward Light, was clearly seen

The perfect purity of heart and life

For which that Saviour calls, who never asked,

Things unattainable.

These truths and others, being thus revealed,

Fox was prepared and qualified to preach,

The unveiled Gospel, to the sons of men.

Clothed with divine authority, he went

Abroad through Britain, and proclaimed that Light,

Which Christ's illuminating Spirit sheds,

In the dark heart of man. Some heard of this,

Who seemed prepared and waiting, to receive

His Gospel message, and were turned to Him,

Whose Holy Spirit sealed it on their hearts.

And not a few of these, were called upon,

To take the message, and themselves declare

The way of Truth to others. But the Priests,

Carnal professors, and some magistrates,

Heard of the inward light, and purity,

With indignation, and they seized upon,

And thrust the Preacher within prison walls.

Not once alone, but often was he found,

Amid the very dregs of wickedness—

With robbers, and with blood-stained criminals,

Locked up in loathsome jails. And when abroad

Upon his Master's service, he was still

Reviled and buffeted, and spit upon.

But none of these things moved him, for within

He felt that soul-sustaining evidence,

Which bore his spirit high above the waves,

Of bitter persecution.

But now the time approached, for his release

From suffering and from labour. He had spent,

Long years in travel for the cause of Truth,—

Not all in Britain,—for he preached its light,

And power in Holland,—the West Indian isles,

And North America. Far through the wild,

And trackless wilderness, this faithful man,

Carried his Master's message; he lived,

To see Truth's banner fearlessly displayed

Upon both continents. He lived to see,

Pure hearted men and women gathered to

The inward teaching of the Saviour's will,—

Banded together in the covenant,

Of light and life. But his allotted work,

Was now accomplished, and his soul prepared,

For an inheritance with saints in light,

And with his loins all girded, he put off

His earthly shackles, triumphing in death,

That the Seed reigned, and Truth was over all!

Where the dark waters of the Delaware,

Roll onward to the ocean, sweeping by,

Primeval forests, where the red man still,

Built his rude wigwam, and the timid deer

Fled for concealment from the Indian's eye,

And the unerring arrow of his bow;

There, in the shadow of these ancient woods,

A sea-worn ship has anchored. On her deck,

Men of grave mien are gathered. One of whom,

Of noble figure, and quick searching eyes,

Surveys the scene, wrapt in the deepest thought.

And this is William Penn. He stands among,

Fellow believers, who have sought a home,

And place of refuge, in this wilderness.

Born of an ancient family, his sire

An English Admiral, the youthful Penn,

Might, with his talents, have soon ranked among

The proudest subjects of the British throne.

He chose the better part—to serve that King

Who is immortal and invisible.

While yet a student within college halls,

He heard Truth's message, and his heart was reached,

And fully owned it, though it came through one

Of that despised and persecuted class,

Called in derision Quakers. Thus convinced,

He left the college worship, to commune

In spirit with his Maker. And for this,

He was expelled from Oxford; and was soon

Maltreated by his father, who, enraged,

Because his only son, had turned away

From brilliant prospects, to pursue the path

Of self-denial, drove him harshly forth

From the paternal roof. But William Penn,

Had still a Father, who supported him,

With strength and courage to perform his will;

And he was called and qualified to preach,

And to bear witness of that blessed Light

Which shines within. He suffered in the cause,

His share of trial. He was dragged before

Judges and juries, and was shut within

The walls of prisons.

Looking abroad through England, he was filled

With deep commiseration, for the jails—

The loathsome, filthy jails—were crowded with

His brethren in the Truth. For their relief,

He sought the ear of royalty, and plead

Their cruel sufferings; and their innocence;

And thus became the instrument through which

Some prison doors were opened. But he sought

A place of refuge from oppression's power,

That Friends might worship the Creator there,

Free from imprisonment and penalties.

And such a place soon opened to his view,

Far in the Western Wilderness, beyond

The Atlantic's wave.

And here is William Penn, and here a band

Of weary emigrants, who now behold

The promised land before them; but it is

The Indian's country, and the Indian's home.

Penn had indeed, received a royal grant,

To occupy it; but a grant from one

Who had no rightful ownership therein;

He therefore buys it honestly from those

Whose claims are aboriginal, and just.

With these inhabitants, behold, he stands

Beneath an ancient elm, whose spreading limbs

O'erhang the Delaware. The forest chiefs

Sit in grave silence, while the pipe of peace

Goes round the circle. They have made a league

With faithful Onas—a perpetual league,

And treaty of true friendship, to endure

While the sun shines, and while the waters run.

And here was founded in the wilderness,

A refuge from oppression, where all creeds

Found toleration, and where truth and right

Were the foundation of its government,

And its protection. In that early day,

The infant colony sought no defence

But that of justice and of righteousness;

The only guarantees of peace on earth,

Because they ever breathe, good will to men.

His colony thus planted, William Penn

Sought his old field of labour, and again,

Both through the press and vocally, he plead

The right of conscience, and the rights of man;

And frequently, and forcibly he preached

Christ's universal and inshining Light.

His labour was incessant; and the cares,

And the perplexities connected with

His distant province, which he visited

A second time, bore heavily upon

His burdened spirit, which demanded rest;—

That rest was granted. In the midst of all

His labour and his trials, there was drawn

A veil, in mercy, round his active mind,

Which dimmed all outward things; but he still saw

The beauty and the loveliness of Truth,

And found sweet access to the Source of good.

And thus, shut out from the perplexities

And sorrows of the world, he was prepared

To hear the final summons, to put off

His tattered garments, and be clothed upon

With heavenly raiment.

Scotland, thou hadst a noble citizen,

In him of Ury! Born amid thy hills,

Though educated where enticing scenes,

Crowd giddy Paris, he rejected all

The world's allurements, and unlike the youth

Who talked with Jesus, Barclay turned away

From great possessions, and embraced the Truth.

He early dedicated all the powers

Of a well cultivated intellect

To the Redeemer and His holy cause.

He was a herald, to proclaim aloud,

Glad tidings of salvation; and his life

Preached a loud sermon by its purity.

Not only were his lips made eloquent,

By the live coal that touched them, but his pen,

Moved by a force from the same altar, poured

Light, truth, and wisdom. From it issued forth

The great Apology, which yet remains

One of the best expositors of Truth

That man has published, since that sacred book

Anciently written. Seekers are still led

By its direction, to that blessed Light,

And inward Teacher, who is Jesus Christ.

But now, this noble servant of the Lord,

Rests from his faithful labour, while his works

Yet follow him.

Early believers in the light of Truth,

Dwelt not at ease in Zion. They endured

Conflicts and trials, and imprisonments.

Even the humble Penington, whose mind

Seemed purged and purified from all the dross

Of human nature—who appeared as meek

And harmless as an infant—was compelled

To dwell in loathsome prisons. But he had,

Though in the midst of wickedness, sublime

And holy visions of the purity,

And the true nature of Christ's living Church.

While Edmundson, the faithful pioneer

Of Truth in Ireland, was compelled to drink

Deeply of suffering for the blessed cause.

Dragged from his home, half naked, by a mob

Who laid that home in ashes, he endured

Heart-rending cruelties. But all of these,

Stars of the morning, felt oppression's hand,

And some endured it to the closing scene.

Burroughs, a noble servant of the Lord,

Whose lips and pen were eloquent for Truth,

Drew his last breath in prison. Parnel, too,

A young and valiant soldier of the Lamb,

Died, a true martyr in a dungeon's gloom.

Howgill and Hubberthorn, both ministers

Of Christ's ordaining, were released from all

Their earthly trials within prison walls.

And beside these, there was a multitude

Of faithful men, and noble women too,

Who past from scenes of conflict, to the joys

Of the Redeemer's kingdom, within jails,

And some in dungeons. But amid it all,

Light spread in Britain, and a living Church

Was greatly multiplied. The tender minds,

Even of children, felt the power of Truth,

And showed the fruit and firmness it affords.

When persecution, rioted within

The town of Bristol, and all older Friends

Were locked in prison, little children met,

Within their place of worship, by themselves,

To offer praises, in the very place

From which their parents had been dragged to jail.

But let us turn from Britain, and look down,

Upon an inland sea whose swelling waves

Encircle Malta. There a cloudless sun,

In Eastern beauty, pours its light upon

The Inquisition. All without its walls

Seems calm and peaceful, let us look within.

There, stretched upon the floor, within a close,

Dark, narrow cell, inhaling from a crack

A breath of purer air, two women lie.

But who are these, and wherefore are they here?

These are two ministers of Christ, who left

Their homes in England, faithfully to bear,

The Saviour's message into eastern lands.

And here at Malta they were seized upon

By bigotted intolerance, and shut

Within this fearful engine of the Pope.

Priests and Inquisitor assail them here,

And urge the claims of popery. The rack,

And cruel deaths are threatened; and again

Sweet liberty is offered, as the price

Of their apostacy. All, all in vain!

For years these tender women have been thus,

Victims of cruelty. At times apart,

Confined in gloomy, solitary cells.

But all these efforts to convert them failed:

The Inquisition had not power enough

To shake their faith and confidence in Him,

Whose holy presence was seen anciently

To save his children from devouring flames;

He, from this furnace of affliction, brought

These persecuted women, who came forth

Out of the burning, with no smell of fire

Upon their garments, and again they trod,

Their native land rejoicing.

In Hungary, two ministers of Christ,

Were stretched upon the rack. Their tortured limbs

Were almost torn asunder, but no force

Could tear them from their Master, and they came

Out of the furnace, well refined gold.

Nor were these all who suffered for the cause

Of truth and righteousness, in foreign lands.

For at Mequinez and Algiers, some toiled,

And died in slavery. But nothing could

Discourage faithful messengers of Christ

From his required service. They were found

Preaching repentance where the Israelites

Once toiled in Egypt, and the ancient Nile

Still rolls its waters. And the holy light

Of the eternal Gospel was proclaimed,

Where its great Author had first published it—

Where the rich temple of King Solomon,

Stood in its ancient glory. Even there,

The haughty Musselmen, were told of Him,

The one great Prophet, who now speaks within.

For their refusing to participate

In carnal warfare, many early Friends,

Were made to suffer. On a ship of war

Equipped for battle, Richard Sellers bore,

With a meek, Christian spirit, cruelties

The most atrocious, for obeying Him

Who was his heavenly Captain, and by whom,

War is forbidden. Sellers would not touch,

The instruments of carnage, nor could all

The cruelties inflicted, move his soul

From a reliance on that holy Arm,

Which had sustained him in the midst of all

His complicated trials; and he gained

A peaceful, but a greater victory

Than that of battle, for he wearied out

Oppression, by his constancy, and left

A holy savor, with that vessel's crew.

But let us turn from persecuting scenes,

That stain the annals of the older world,

To young America, whose virgin shores

Offer a refuge from oppression's power.

Here lies a harbour in the noble bay

Of Massachusetts. Many little isles

Dot its expanding waters, and Nahant

Spreads its long beach and eminence beyond,

A barrier to the ocean. The whole scene,

Looks beautiful, in the clear northern air,

And loveliness of morning. On the heights

That overlook the harbour, there is seen

An infant settlement. Let us approach,

And anchor where the Puritans have sought,

For liberty of conscience. But there seems,

Disquietude in Boston. Men appear

Urged on by stormy passions, and some wear

A look of unrelenting bitterness.

But what is that now rising into view,

Where crowds are gathered on an eminence?

These are the Puritans. They now surround

A common gallows. On its platform, stands

A lovely woman in the simple garb

Worn by the early Quakers. Of the throng,

She only seems unmoved, although her blood

They madly thirst for.

The first professors of Christ's inward Light,

Who brought this message into Boston bay,

Were inoffensive women. They were searched

For signs of witchcraft, and their books were burned.

The captain who had brought them, was compelled

To carry them away. But others came,

Both men and women, zealous for the Truth.

These were received with varied cruelties—

By frequent whippings and imprisonments.

Law after law was made excluding them;

But all in vain, for still these faithful ones

Carried their Master's message undismayed

Among the Puritans, and still they found

Those who received it, and embraced the Truth,

And steadily maintained it, in the midst

Of whipping posts, and pillories, and jails!

A law was then enacted, by which all

The banished Quakers, who were found again

Within the province, were to suffer death.

But these, though ever ready to obey

All just enactments, when laws trespassed on

The rights of conscience, and on God's command,

Could never for a moment hesitate,

Which to obey.—And soon there stood upon

A scaffold of New England, faithful friends,

Who, in obeying Christ, offended man!

Of these was Mary Dyer, who exclaimed,

While passing to this instrument of death,

"No eye can witness, and no ear can hear,

No tongue can utter, nor heart understand

The incomes and refreshings from the Lord

Which now I feel." And in the spirit which

These words a little pictured, Robinson,

Past to the presence of that Holy One

For whom he laboured, and in whom he died.

Then Stevenson, another faithful steward

And servant of the Lamb, was ushered from

Deep scenes of suffering into scenes of joy.

But Mary Dyer, who was all prepared,

To join these martyrs in their heavenward flight,

Was left a little longer upon earth.

But a few fleeting months had rolled away,

Ere this devoted woman felt constrained,

Again to go among the Puritans,

In Massachusetts, and in Boston too.

And here she stands! the second time, upon

A gallows of New England. No reprieve

Arrests her sentence now. But still she feels

The same sweet incomes, and refreshing streams

From the Lord's Holy Spirit. In the midst

Of that excited multitude, she seems

The most resigned and peaceful.—But the deed

Is now accomplished, and the scene is closed!

Among the faithful martyrs of the Lamb,

Gathered forever round His Holy Throne,

She doubtless wears a pure and spotless robe,

And bears the palm of victory.

The blood of Leddra was soon after shed,

Which closed the scene of martyrdom among

The early Quakers in this colony,

But not the scene of suffering. Women were

Dragged through its towns half-naked, tied to carts,

While the lash fell upon their unclothed backs,

And bloody streets, showed where they past along.

And such inhuman treatment was bestowed

On the first female minister of Christ,

Who preached the doctrine of his inward Light.

But in New England, there was really found

A refuge from oppression, justice reigned

Upon Rhode Island. In that early day,

The rights of conscience were held sacred there,

And persecution was a thing unknown.

A bright example, as a governor,

Was William Coddington. He loved the law—

The perfect law of righteousness—and strove

To govern by it; and all faithful Friends

Felt him a brother in the blessed Truth.

In North America, the Puritans

Stood not alone in efforts to prevent

The introduction and the spread of light.

The Dutch plantation of New Amsterdam,

Sustained a measure of the evil work.

The savage cruelties inflicted on

The faithful Hodgson, have few parallels

In any age or country; but the Lord

Was with His servant in the midst of all,

And healed his tortured and his mangled frame.

The early Friends were bright and shining stars,

For they reflected the clear holy light

The Sun of Righteousness bestowed on them.

They followed no deceiving, transient glare—

No ignis fatuus of bewildered minds;

They followed Jesus in the holiness

Of His unchanging Gospel. They endured

Stripes and imprisonment and pillories,

Torture and slavery and banishment,

And even death; but they would not forsake

Their Holy Leader, or His blessed cause.

Their patient suffering, and firm steadfastness,

Secured a rich inheritance for those

Who have succeeded them. Do these now feel

That firm devotion to the cause of Truth—That

singleheartedness their fathers felt?

Do they appreciate the price and worth

Of the great legacy and precious trust

Held for their children? The great cruelties

Borne by the fathers, have not been entailed

On their descendants, who now dwell at ease.

The world does not revile them. Do not some

Love it the more for this? and do they not

Make more alliance with it, and partake

More and more freely of its tempting baits,

Its fashions and its spirit? but are these

More pure and holy than they were of old,

When in the light of Truth, their fathers saw

That deep corruption overspread the world?

Other professors latterly have learned

To speak of Quakers with less bitterness

Than when the name reproachfully was cast

In ridicule upon them. Has not this

Drawn watchmen from the citadel of Truth?

Has it not opened doors that had been closed,

And should have been forever? And by these,

Has not an enemy been stealing in,

To spoil the goods of many; to assail,

And strive in secrecy to gather strength,

To overcome the citadel at last?

Is it not thought illiberal to refuse

Alliances with those who now profess

Respect and friendship? Must the Quaker then

Bow in the house of Rimmon, saying, Lord

Pardon in this thy servant? Do not some

Fail to resist encroachments, when they come

Clothed in enticing words, and wear the guise

Of charity and kindness, and are veiled,

Or sweetened to the taste, by courtesy?

But is a snare less certain, when concealed

By some enticing bait? or is a ball

Less sure and fatal, when it flies unheard,

Or, when the hand that sends it is unseen,

Or offers friendship? Did not Joab say,

"Art thou in health my brother?" and appeared

To kiss Amasa, while he thrust his sword

Into his life-blood? And when Jonas fled

From the Lord's service, and the stormy waves

Threatened the ship that bore him, was the cause

Not found within it? Was there not a calm

When he, whose disobedience to the Lord

Had raised the tempest, was no longer there?

Truth has a standard openly displayed,

Untorn—unsullied. Man indeed may change,

And may forsake it; but the Standard still

Remains immutable. May all who love

This Holy Banner, rally to it now!

May all whose dwellings are upon the sand,

Seek for a building on that living Rock,

Which stands forever;—for a storm has come—

A storm that tries foundations! Even now,

The flooding rains are falling, and the winds

Rapidly rising to a tempest, beat

Upon all dwellings. They alone can stand

Which have the Rock beneath them, and above

The Omnipresent and Omnipotent

Creator and Defender of His Church!

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Table of Contents

THE ANCIENT BANNER;

OR

Brief Sketches OF PERSONS AND SCENES IN THE EARLY HISTORY OF FRIENDS.

1846.

THE

ANCIENT BANNER.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE