Faith On The Line - Stress, Stress Go Away Vol 19 | Page 39

Like as the armed knight,
Appointed to the field,
With this world will I fight,
And Christ shall be my shield.
Faith is that weapon strong,
Which will not fail need;
My foes, therefore, among,
Therewith will I proceed.
As it is had in strength
And force of Christ’s way,
It will prevail at length,
Though all the devils say nay.
Faith in the fathers old
Obtained righteousness;
Which makes me very bold
To fear no world’s distress.
I now rejoice in heart,
And hope bids me do so;
For Christ will take my part,
And ease me of my woe.
Thou say’st, Lord, whoso knock
To them Thou wilt attend;
Undo, therefore, the lock,
And Thy strong power send.
More enemies now I have
Than hairs upon my head:
Let them not me deprave,
But fight Thou in my stead.
On Thee my care I cast,
For all their cruel spite;
I set not by their haste,
For Thou art my delight.
I am not she that lists
My anchor to let fall,
For every drizzling mist,
My ship substantial.
Not oft use I to write,
In prose, nor yet in rhyme;
Yet will I show one sight
That I saw in my time.
I saw a royal throne,
Where Justice should have sit,
But in her stead was one
Of moody, cruel wit.
Absorbed was righteousness,
As of the raging flood;

Satin, in his excess,
Sucked up the guiltless blood.
Then thought I, Jesus, Lord,
When Thou shalt judge us all,
Hard is it to record
On these men what will fall.
Yet, Lord, I Thee desire,
For that they do to me,
Let them not taste the hire
Of their iniquity.
In all her previous examinations,
Anne had avoided a direct
answer to the question
concerning her faith in the
doctrine of Transubstantiation,
but now feeling that her
enemies were determined to kill
her, and that she had no longer
anything to gain by refusing
to answer their questions, she
wrote to the Privy Council a
plain statement on her belief, in
these words:

“Do you deny,” she was asked, “the bread in the pix to be God?”
“God is a spirit,” she replied, “and not a wafer-cake, and He is to be
worshipped in spirit and in truth, and not by the impious superstitious
homage paid to a wafer, converted, by Popish jugglery, into a God.”
“Do you plainly deny Christ to be in the Sacrament?” she was asked again.
“I believe,” she answered, “the eternal Son of God not to dwell there.” She
fortified her declaration--she quoted many passages of Scripture. “I neither
wish death,” she concluded, “nor fear his might. God have the praise thereof
with thanks.”
The council urged her to take the benefit of a priest, but she replied, with a
smile, that she would confess her sins to God, from whom alone she could
obtain absolution.
The Lord Mayor of London, Sir Martin Bowes, now asked and received
permission to question her. “Thou foolish woman,” he began, “sayest thou
that the priest cannot make the body of Christ?”
“I say so, my Lord,” replied Anne, “for I have read that God made man, but
that man can make God I never yet read, nor I suppose ever shall.”
“Thou foolish woman,” continued the pompous magistrate, “after the words
of consecration, is it not the Lord’s body?”
“No, it is but consecrated or sacramental bread,” she answered.

“That the sacramental bread
was left us to be received with
thanksgiving in remembrance of
Christ’s death, the only remedy
of our soul’s recovery, and that
thereby we also receive the
whole benefits and fruits of His
most glorious passion.”

“What if a mouse eat it after the consecration?” asked the mayor, confident
of annihilating her with this argument. “What shall become of the mouse?
What sayest thou, foolish woman?”

On Monday, June 28th, she
was taken to Guildhall to be
examined again by the council.
She was taunted with being
a heretic, but she denied the
imputation, and declared that
she had done nothing for which
she deserved death by the law
of God. When they asked her if
she denied the Sacrament of the
Eucharist to be Christ’s body and
blood, she answered, without
hesitation:

“Alack! Poor mouse!” she exclaimed, with mock pity.

“Yes, for the same Son of God
that was born of the Virgin Mary
is now glorious in Heaven, and
will come again from thence at
the last day in like manner as
He went up. And as to what you
call your God, it is but a piece of
bread. As an additional proof of
this (mark it when you please),
let it lie in the pix but three
months and it will be mouldy,
and so turn to nothing that is
good. I am therefore persuaded
that it cannot be God.”

Anne Askew gazed at him a moment, and then asked, quietly: “What shall
become of it, say you, my lord?”
“I say that the mouse is damned,” he answered, quickly.

Some of the council burst into a laugh at these words, and seeing how
badly their champion was faring at the hands of Mistress Anne, they put a
stop to his questioning, and “proceeded,” says Strype, “to the butchery they
intended before they came thither.”
By the law of England, Anne Askew was entitled to open trial by jury,
but the Roman Catholic influence was strong enough in the council to
deprive her of this right. The Lord Chancell