pulpit,
where he behoved to lean at his first entry; but before he had
done with his sermon, he was so active and vigorous that he was
like to _ding that pulpit in blads_,[123] and fly out of
it!'[124] And the impact on the mind of the youthful Melville
was scarcely less than that on the pulpit. He had his 'pen and
little book,' and for the first half hour of Knox's sermon, took
down 'such things as I could comprehend'; but when the preacher
'entered to the application of his text he made me so to
_grue_[125] and tremble that I could not hold a pen to
write!'[126]

But his day was rapidly moving to its close; and Knox, without waiting
for his return to Edinburgh, now wrote his Will. In it, after an
unexpectedly mild address to the Papists, and a prophecy (which was not
fulfilled) that his death would turn out a worse thing for them than his
life, he turns to the other side, and in one striking paragraph sums up
the work that was now to close.

'To the faithful I protest, that God, by my mouth, be I never so
abject, has shewn to you His truth in all simplicity. None I
have corrupted; none I have defrauded; merchandise have I not
made (to God's glory I write) of the glorious Evangel of Jesus
Christ. But according to the measure of the grace granted unto
me, I have divided the sermon [word] of truth into just parts:
beating down the pride of the proud in all that did declare
their rebellion against God, according as God in His law gives
to me yet testimony; and raising up the consciences troubled
with the knowledge of their own sins, by the declaring of Jesus
Christ, the strength of His death, and the mighty operation of
His resurrection in the hearts of the faithful.'

When (still before leaving St Andrews) he publishes his last book, he
dedicates it to the faithful 'that God of His mercy shall appoint to
fight after me;' and he adds, 'I heartily salute and take my good-night
of all the faithful of both realms ... for as the world is weary of me,
so am I of it.' In those darkening days, even when he is merely to write
his subscription, it is 'John Knox, with my dead hand but glad heart.'
For in this inevitable anti-climax of failing life, Knox found his
compensations not in the world, nor even in the Church. When he returned
to Edinburgh, he had become unable for pastoral work. 'All worldly
strength, yea, even in things spiritual,'