M Y REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—I received your letters. They are as apples of gold to me; for with my sweet feasts (and they are above the deserving of such a sinner, high and out of measure), I have sadness to ballast me, and weight me a little. It is but His boundless wisdom which hath taken the tutoring of His witless child; and He knoweth that to be drunken with comforts is not safest for our stomachs. However it be, the din and noise and glooms of Christ's cross are weightier than itself. I protest to you (my witness is in heaven), that I could wish many pound weights added to my cross, to know that by my sufferings Christ were set forward in His kingly office in this land. Oh, what is my skin to His glory; or my losses, or my sad heart, to the apple of the eye of our Lord and His beloved Spouse, His precious truth, His royal privileges, the glory of manifested justice in giving of His foes a dash, the testimony of His faithful servants who do glorify Him, when He rideth upon poor, weak worms, and triumpheth in them! I desire you to pray, that I may come out of this furnace with honesty, and that I may leave Christ's truth no worse than I found it; and that this most honourable cause may neither be stained nor weakened.
As for your cause, my reverend and dearest brother, ye are the talk of the north and south; and looked to, so as if ye were all crystal glass. Your motes and dust would soon be proclaimed and trumpets blown at your slips. But I know that ye have laid help upon One that is mighty. Intrust not your comforts to men's airy and frothy applause, neither lay your down-castings on the tongues of salt mockers and reproachers of godliness. "As deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet well known" (2 Cor. vi. 8, 9). God hath called you to Christ's side, and the wind is now in Christ's face in this land; and seeing ye are with Him, ye cannot expect the lee-side, or the sunny side of the brae. But I know that ye have resolved to take Christ upon any terms whatsoever. I hope that ye do not rue, though your cause be hated, and prejudices are taken up against it. The shields of the world think our Master cumbersome wares, and that He maketh too great din, and that His cords and yokes make blains, and deep scores in their neck. Therefore they kick. They say, "This man shall not reign over us."
Let us pray one for another. He who hath made you a chosen arrow in His quiver, hide you in the hollow of His hand!
I am yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, March 9, 1637.
[John Campbell, first Earl of Loudon, and the son of Sir James Campbell of Lawers, was a man of distinguished talents, and of a very decided character. In the history of his country he makes no small figure as a strenuous opponent of the attempts made by Charles I. to impose Prelacy and arbitrary power on Scotland. He was a member of the General Assembly which met at Glasgow in 1638, in the business of which he took an active part. When the King, dissatisfied with the proceedings of this Assembly, put himself at the head of an army to reduce his Scottish subjects to submission, Loudon had a leading hand in the measures then adopted for preserving the religion and liberties of Scotland, as secured by the ecclesiastical and civil laws of the kingdom. In the skirmish at Newburn, where the King's forces were defeated by the Scottish army, he commanded a brigade of horse. In 1641, when peace was restored between the King and his Scottish subjects, Loudon was made Lord Chancellor of Scotland, a situation which he held till after the execution of Charles I., and the calling home of Charles II. by the Scots in 1650. Malignants being again brought into places of power and trust, he demitted his office. He continued, however, strongly to adhere to the cause of Charles, in consequence of which he was excepted from Cromwell's act of indemnity, and his estates forfeited. But all that he had suffered for the royal cause did not recommend him to the favour of the unprincipled government of Charles II. His name is in the list of Middleton's fines (imposed upon the gentlemen of Ayrshire in 1662) for £12,000. He felt convinced that, should his life be spared, he would fall an early victim to the vengeance of his enemies, and often exhorted his pious lady to beseech the Lord that he might not live to the next session of Parliament, else he would share the same fate with the Marquis of Argyle. His wish was granted; for he died at Edinburgh, March 15, 1662. Rutherford's "Divine Right of Church Government and Excommunication," printed at London in 1646, is dedicated to this nobleman, who was then Chancellor of the University of St Andrews. His son James, second Earl of Loudon, was subjected to no small persecution under the dominancy of Prelacy; and, seeking refuge in Holland, took up his residence at Leyden, where he died on the 29th of October 1684.]
M Y VERY NOBLE AND HONOURABLE LORD,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I make bold to write to your Lordship, that you may know the honourable cause which ye are graced to profess is Christ's own truth. Ye are many ways blessed of God, who have taken upon you to come out to the streets with Christ on your forehead, when so many are ashamed of Him, and hide Him (as it were) under their cloak, as if He were a stolen Christ. If this faithless generation, and especially the nobles of this kingdom, thought not Christ dear wares, and religion expensive, hazardous, and dangerous, they would not slip from His cause as they do, and stand looking on with their hands folded behind their back when louns are running with the spoil of Zion on their back, and the boards of the Son of God's tabernacle. Law and justice are to be had by any, especially for money and moyen; but Christ can get no law, good-cheap or dear. It were the glory and honour of you, who are the nobles of this land, to plead for your wronged Bridegroom and His oppressed spouse, as far as zeal and standing law will go with you. Your ordinary logic from the event, "that it will do no good to the cause, and, therefore, silence is best till the Lord put to His own hand," is not (with reverence to your Lordship's learning) worth a straw. Events are God's. Let us do,[210] and not plead against God's office. Let Him sit at His own helm, who moderateth all events. It is not a good course to complain that we cannot get a providence of gold, when our laziness, cold zeal, temporizing, and faithless fearfulness spilleth good providence.
Your Lordship will pardon me: I am not of that mind, that tumults or arms is the way to put Christ on His throne; or that Christ will be served and truth vindicated, only with the arm of flesh and blood. Nay, Christ doth His turn with less din, than with garments rolled in blood. But I would that the zeal of God were in the nobles to do their part for Christ; and I must be pardoned to write to your Lordship thus.
I dow not, I dare not, but speak to others what God hath done to the soul of His poor, afflicted exile-prisoner. His comfort is more than I ever knew before. He hath sealed the honourable cause which I now suffer for, and I shall not believe that Christ will put His amen and ring[211] upon an imagination. He hath made all His promises good to me, and hath filled up all the blanks with His own hand. I would not exchange my bonds with the plastered joy of this whole world. It hath pleased Him to make a sinner the like of me an ordinary banqueter in His house-of-wine, with that royal, princely One, Christ Jesus. Oh, what weighing, oh, what telling is in His love! How sweet must He be, when that black and burdensome tree, His own cross, is so perfumed with joy and gladness! O for help to lift Him up by praises on His royal throne! I seek no more than that His name may be spread abroad in me, that meikle good may be spoken of Christ on my behalf; and this being done, my losses, place, stipend, credit, ease, and liberty, shall all be made up to my full contentment and joy of heart.
I shall be confident that your Lordship will go on in the strength of the Lord, and keep Christ, and avouch Him, that He may read your name publicly before men and angels. I shall entreat your Lordship to exhort and encourage that nobleman, your chief,[212] to do the same. But I am wo[213] that many of you find a new wisdom, which deserveth not such a name. It were better that men would see that their wisdom be holy, and their holiness wise.
I must be bold to desire your Lordship to add to your former favours to me (for the which your Lordship hath a prisoner's blessing and prayers) this, that ye would be pleased to befriend my brother, now suffering for the same cause; for as he is to dwell nigh your Lordship's bounds, your Lordship's word and countenance may help him.
Thus recommending your Lordship to the saving grace and tender mercy of Christ Jesus our Lord, I rest, your Lordship's obliged servant in Christ,
S. R.
Aberdeen, March 9, 1637.
[Mr. William Dalgleish was minister of the conjunct parishes of Anwoth, Kirkdale, and Kirkmabreck. He preached at Anwoth only every alternate week; but so abundantly blessed were his labours to the people, that when he surrendered (quoad sacra) the charge of Anwoth to Rutherford, upon its being formed into a distinct parochial charge, not only many of the humbler class of the parishioners, but the proprietors too, had embraced the doctrines of the Gospel. Dalgleish strictly adhered to Presbyterian principles, and on that account was subjected to trouble.
In 1635 he was deprived of his charge as minister of the united parishes of Kirkdale and Kirkmabreck. In 1637, when Episcopacy began to be the losing cause, he returned to his flock. His name appears on the roll of the members of the famous Assembly which met at Glasgow in 1638; and in 1639 he was translated to Cramond, as successor to Mr. William Colville, afterwards Principal of the University of Edinburgh; to whom he appears to have been related, as the name of his wife was Elizabeth Colville. He was the intimate friend of the well-known Alexander Henderson, who by his latter will ordained his executor "to deliver to my dear acquaintance Mr. John Duncan, at Culross, and Mr. William Dalgleish, minister at Cramond, all my manuscripts and papers which are in my study, and that belong to me any where else; and after they have received them, to destroy or preserve and keep them, as they shall judge convenient for their own private or the public good." In 1662 Dalgleish was ejected for nonconformity, and died before the Revolution.
Kirkmabreck was a pendicle of the Abbey of Dundrennan, which is seven miles from Kirkcudbright. The farms and cottages that bear this name are about two miles from the shore, a little way up on the high ground, but the church and churchyard lie in a hollow, between the Larg and the Cairnharrow hills. Part of the old ivy-covered walls, and the gable of the church, still remain. One modern tomb in the churchyard is marked by a granite pillar, 20 feet high. It is the grave of Dr. Thomas Brown. The inscription on the west side reads thus:—"Thomas, M.D., Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, who died 2nd August 1820, aged 43 years. Janet, who died 5th August 1824, aged 51."
The Statistical Account speaks of Old Mortality having renovated some of the grave-stones, but all traces of his work have disappeared. In that old church Samuel Rutherford preached his sermons on Zech. xiii. 7, 9, at a Communion in 1630. In 1634 he preached on Luke xiv. 16, at the preparation before the Communion; and on another occasion, on Isaiah xlix. 1-4.
The parish extends along the shore, to the village of Creetown in one direction, and in the other, to the old castle and farm of Carsluth. The old tower and ruined walls of this castle, built of granite from the neighbouring quarries, stand embosomed in trees, on a spot commanding a fine view of the bay. Barholm Castle also is in this parish, and was the spot where John Knox was secreted previous to his escape to the Continent. His signature was long shown on the wall of one of the rooms. The old towers, overgrown with ivy, peep out from the thick woods on the right of the road from Kirkdale to Creetown. The modern mansion stands on a wooded eminence, on the other side of Creetown. Not more than a mile from this old castle, is the ruined church of Kirkdale, on the edge of a wood, and considerably above the house. It resembles the churches of Kirkmabreck and Anwoth in shape, having been long and narrow. The inscriptions on the old tombstones are so worn as to be illegible. The churchyard has been enclosed, and at the gate the eye is sure to rest on a small tablet in the side wall, with these words:—
"But go thou thy way till the end be: for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days" (Dan. xii. 13.)]
R EVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I am well. My Lord Jesus is kinder to me than ever He was. It pleaseth Him to dine and sup with His afflicted prisoner. A King feasteth me, and His spikenard casteth a sweet smell. Put Christ's love to the trial, and put upon it our burdens, and then it will appear love indeed. We employ not His love, and therefore we know it not. I verily count the sufferings of my Lord more than this world's lustred and over-gilded glory. I dare not say but my Lord Jesus hath fully recompensed my sadness with His joys, my losses with His own presence. I find it a sweet and rich thing to exchange my sorrows with Christ's joys, my afflictions with that sweet peace I have with Himself.
Brother, this is His own truth I now suffer for. He hath sealed my sufferings with His own comforts, and I know that He will not put His seal upon blank paper. His seals are not dumb nor delusive, to confirm imaginations and lies. Go on, my dear brother, in the strength of the Lord, not fearing man who is a worm, nor the son of man that shall die. Providence hath a thousand keys, to open a thousand sundry doors for the deliverance of His own, when it is even come to a conclamatum est.[214] Let us be faithful, and care for our own part, which is to do and suffer for Him, and lay Christ's part on Himself, and leave it there. Duties are ours, events are the Lord's. When our faith goeth to meddle with events, and to hold a court (if I may so speak) upon God's providence, and beginneth to say, "How wilt Thou do this and that?" we lose ground. We have nothing to do there. It is our part to let the Almighty exercise His own office, and steer His own helm. There is nothing left to us, but to see how we may be approved of Him, and how we may roll the weight of our weak souls in well-doing upon Him who is God Omnipotent: and when that we thus essay miscarrieth, it will be neither our sin nor cross.
Brother, remember the Lord's word to Peter; "Simon, lovest thou me?—Feed my sheep." No greater testimony of our love to Christ can be, than to feed carefully and faithfully His lambs.
I am in no better neighbourhood with the ministers here than before: they cannot endure that any speak of me, or to me. Thus I am, in the mean time, silent, which is my greatest grief. Dr. Barron[215] hath often disputed with me, especially about Arminian controversies, and for the ceremonies. Three yokings laid him by; and I have not been troubled with him since. Now he hath appointed a dispute before witnesses; I trust that Christ and truth will do for themselves.
I hope, brother, that ye will help my people; and write to me what ye hear the Bishop is to do with them. Grace be with you.
Your brother in bonds,
S. R.
Aberdeen.
R EVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—I bless you for your letter. He is come down as rain upon the mown grass; He hath revived my withered root; and He is the dew of herbs. I am most secure in this prison: salvation is for walls in it; and what think ye of these walls? He maketh the dry plant to bud as the lily, and to blossom as Lebanon:—the great Husbandman's blessing cometh down upon the plants of righteousness. Who may say this, my dear brother, if I, His poor exiled stranger and prisoner, may not say it? Howbeit all the world should be silent, I cannot hold my peace. Oh, how many black accounts have Christ and I rounded over together in the house of my pilgrimage! and how fat a portion He hath given to a hungry soul! I had rather have Christ's four-hours, than have dinner and supper both in one from any other. His dealing, and the way of His judgments, are past finding out. No preaching, no book, no learning, could give me that which it behoved me to come and get in this town. But what of all this, if I were not misted, and confounded, and astonished how to be thankful, and how to get Him praised for evermore! And, what is more, He hath been pleased to pain me with His love, and my pain groweth through want of real possession.
Some have written to me, that I am possibly too joyful of the cross; but my joy overleapeth the cross, it is bounded and terminated upon Christ. I know that the sun will overcloud and eclipse, and that I shall again be put to walk in the shadow: but Christ must be welcome to come and go, as He thinketh meet. Yet He would be more welcome to me, I trow, to come than to go. And I hope He pitieth and pardoneth me, in casting apples to me at such a fainting time as this. Holy and blessed is His name! It was not my flattering of Christ that drew a kiss from His mouth. But He would send me as a spy into this wilderness of suffering, to see the land and try the ford; and I cannot make a lie of Christ's cross. I can report nothing but good both of Him and it, lest others should faint. I hope, when a change cometh, to cast anchor at midnight upon the Rock which He hath taught me to know in this daylight; whither I may run, when I must say my lesson without book, and believe in the dark. I am sure it is sin to tarrow at Christ's good meat, and not to eat when He saith, "Eat, O well-beloved, and drink abundantly." If He bear me on His back, or carry me in His arms over this water, I hope for grace to set down my feet on dry ground, when the way is better. But this is slippery ground: my Lord thought good I should go by a hold, and lean on my Well-beloved's shoulder. It is good to be ever taking from Him. I desire that He may get the fruit of praises, for dawting and thus dandling me on His knee: and I may give my bond of thankfulness, so being I have Christ's back-bond again for my relief, that I shall be strengthened by His powerful grace to pay my vows to Him. But, truly, I find that we have the advantage of the brae upon our enemies: we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us; and they know not wherein our strength lieth.
Pray for me. Grace be with you.
Your brother in Christ,
S. R.
Aberdeen.
R EVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—Grace, mercy, and peace be unto you.—I find that great men, especially old friends, scaur to speak for me. But my kingly and royal Master biddeth me to try His moyen to the uttermost, and I shall find a friend at hand. I still depend upon Him; His court is still as before; the prisoner is welcome to Him. The black, crabbed tree of my Lord's cross hath made Christ and my soul very entire. He is my song in the night. I am often laid in the dust with challenges, and apprehensions of His anger; and then, if a mountain of iron were laid upon me, I cannot be heavier; and with much wrestling I win into the King's house of wine. And yet, for the most part, my life is joy; and such joy through His comforts, as I have been afraid lest I should shame myself and cry out, for I can scarce bear what I get. Christ giveth me a measure heaped up, pressed down, and running over; and, believe it, His love paineth more than prison and banishment. I cannot get the way of Christ's love. Had I known what He was keeping for me, I should never have been so faint-hearted. In my heaviest times, when all is lost, the memory of His love maketh me think Christ's glooms are but for the fashion.[216] I seek no more than a vent to my wine;[217] I am smothered and ready to burst for want of vent. Think not much of persecution. It is before you; but it is not as men conceive of it. My sugared cross forceth me to say this to you, ye shall have waled meat. The sick bairn is ofttime the spilled bairn; he shall command all the house. I hope that ye help a tired prisoner to praise and pray. Had I but the annual of annual[218] to give to my Lord Jesus, it would ease my pain. But, alas! I have nothing to pay, He will get nothing of poor me; but I am wo that I have not room enough in my heart for such a stranger. I am not cast down to go farther north. I have good cause to work for my Master, for I am well paid beforehand; I am not behind, howbeit I should not get one smile more till my feet be up within the King's dining-hall.
I have gone through yours upon the Covenant;[219] it hath edified my soul, and refreshed a hungry man. I judge it sharp, sweet, quick, and profound. Take me at my word, I fear that it get no lodging in Scotland.
The brethren of Ireland write not to me; chide with them for that. I am sure that I may give you and them a commission (and I will abide by it), that you tell my Beloved that I am sick of love. I hope in God to leave some of my rust and superfluities in Aberdeen. I cannot get a house in this town wherein to leave drink-silver in my Master's name, save one only. There is no sale for Christ in the north; He is like to lie long on my hand, ere any accept Him. Grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen.
[Matthew Mowat, son to the Laird of Busbie (Letter CXXXIII.), was minister of Kilmarnock. He was one of the seven leading ministers in the west whom the Parliament, after the restoration of Charles II., brought before them with the view of extorting their acquiescence in the establishment of Prelacy; which, if effected, it was apprehended would have an influence in leading others to comply. They were all put in prison, and refusing (though several times brought before the Parliament), to take the oath of allegiance without explanation, inasmuch as it involved the oath of supremacy, they were more severely treated. Livingstone describes Mowat as "one of a meek, sweet disposition, straight and zealous for the truth." Rutherford, who highly valued him, says in one of his letters, "I cannot speak to a man so sick of love to Christ as Mr. Matthew Mowat;" and in another, "I am greatly in love with Mr. Matthew Mowat, for I see him really stampt with the image of God." The time of his death is unknown. Some additional notices of him are to be found in Wodrow's "Analecta," vol. iii.]
R EVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—I am a very far mistaken man. If others knew how poor my stock was, they would not think upon the like of me, but with compassion. For I am as one kept under a strict tutor; I would have more than my tutor alloweth me. But it is good that a bairn's wit is not the rule which regulateth my Lord Jesus. Let Him give what He will, it shall aye be above merit, and my ability to gain therewith. I would not wish a better stock, whill heaven be my stock, than to live upon credit at Christ's hands, daily borrowing. Surely, running-over love (that vast, huge, boundless love of Christ that there is telling[220] in for man and angels!) is the only thing I most fain would be in hands with. He knoweth that I have little but the love of that love; and that I shall be happy, suppose I never get another heaven but only an eternal, lasting feast of that love. But suppose my wishes were poor, He is not poor: Christ, all the seasons of the year, is dropping sweetness. If I had vessels, I might fill them; but my old, riven, and running-out dish, even when I am at the Well, can bring little away. Nothing but glory will make tight and fast our leaking and rifty vessels. Alas! I have skailed more of Christ's grace, love, faith, humility, and godly sorrow, than I have brought with me. How little of the sea can a child carry in his hand! As little dow I take away of my great Sea, my boundless and running-over Christ Jesus.
I have not lighted upon the right gate of putting Christ to the bank, and making myself rich with Him. My misguiding and childish trafficking with that matchless Pearl, that heaven's Jewel, the Jewel of the Father's delights, hath put me to a great loss. O that He would take a loan of me, and my stock, and put His name in all my bonds, and serve Himself heir to the poor, mean portion which I have, and be accountable for the talent Himself! Gladly would I put Christ into my room to guide all; and let me be but a servant to run errands, and act by His direction. Let me be His interdicted heir. Lord Jesus, work upon my minority, and let Him win a pupil's blessing! Oh, how would I rejoice to have this work of my salvation legally fastened upon Christ! A back-bond of my Lord Jesus that it should be forthcoming to the orphan, would be my happiness. Dependency on Christ were my surest way; if Christ were my foundation, I were sure enough. I thought the guiding of grace had been no art;[221] I thought it would come of will; but I would spill my own heaven yet, if I had not burdened Christ with all. I but lend my bare name to the sweet covenant; Christ, behind and before, and on either side, maketh all sure. God will not take an Arminian cautioner. Freewill is a weather-cock, turning at a serpent's tongue, a tutor that cowped our Father Adam, unto us; and brought down the house, and sold the land, and sent the father, and mother, and all the bairns through the earth to beg their bread. Nature in the Gospel hath but a cracked credit. Oh, well to my poor soul for evermore, that my Lord called grace to the council, and put Christ Jesus, with free merits and the blood of God, foremost in the chase to draw sinners after a Ransomer! Oh, what a sweet block was it by way of buying and selling, to give and tell down a ransom for grace and glory to dyvours! Oh, would to my Lord that I could cause paper and ink to speak the worth and excellency, the high and loud praises of a Brother-ransomer! The Ransomer needeth not my report, but, oh, if He would take it, and make use of it! I should be happy if I had an errand to this world, but for some few years, to spread proclamations, and outcries, and love-letters of the highness, the highness for evermore, the glory, the glory for evermore, of the Ransomer, whose clothes were wet and dyed in blood! albeit, after I had done that, my soul and body should go back to their mother Nothing that their Creator brought them once out from, as from their beginning. But why should I pine away, and pain myself with wishes? and not believe, rather, that Christ will hire such an outcast as I am, a masterless body, put out of the house by the sons of my mother, and give me employment and a calling, one way or other, to set out Christ and His wares to country buyers, and propose Christ unto, and press Him upon some poor souls, that fainer than their life would receive Him?
You complain heavily of "your shortcoming in practice, and venturing on suffering for Christ." You have many marrows. For the first, I would put you off a sense of wretchedness. Hold on! Christ never yet slew a sighing, groaning child: more of that would make you won goods, and a meet prey for Christ. Alas! I have too little of it, for venturing on suffering. I had not so much free gear when I came to Christ's camp as to buy a sword. I wonder[222] that Christ should not laugh at such a soldier. I am no better yet; but faith liveth and spendeth upon our Captain's charges, who is able to pay for all. We need not pity Him, He is rich enough.
Ye desire me also "Not to mistake Christ under a mask." I bless you, and thank God for it. But alas! masked or bare-faced, kissing or glooming, I mistake Him: yea, I mistake Him the farthest when the mask is off; for then I play me with His sweetness. I am like a child that hath a gilded book, that playeth with the ribbons and the gilding, and the picture on the first page, but readeth not the contents of it. Certainly, if my desires to my Well-beloved were fulfilled, I could provoke devils, and crosses, and the world, and temptations to the field; but oh! my poor weakness maketh me lie behind the bush and hide me.
Remember my service and my blessing to my Lord. I am mindful of him as I am able. Desire him from a prisoner, to come and visit my good Master, and feel but the smell of His love. It setteth him well, howbeit he be young, to make Christ his garland. I could not wish him in a better case, than in a fever of love-sickness for Christ.
Remember my bonds. The Lord Jesus be with your spirit.
Yours in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, 1637.
[The name "Halliday" occurs on the tombstones of the old churchyard of Anwoth. No doubt this correspondent was one of his flock at Anwoth. One of the name lies buried in the old churchyard, with the following inscription on her tombstone:—
"Margat (i.e. Margaret) Halliday, spouse of John Bell in Archland, who departed this life anno 1631, Jan. 27, ætat. suæ 76. O death, I will be thy death! Now is Christ risen from the dead, and is the first froot (i.e. fruits) of them that ..." (broken off.)
Archland is the same place as Henton, in the parish of Anwoth, a notice of which is given at Letter CCXIX., addressed to this John Bell.]
L OVING FRIEND,—I received your letter.—I wish that ye take pains for salvation. Mistaken grace, and somewhat like conversion which is not conversion, is the saddest and most doleful thing in the world. Make sure of salvation, and lay the foundation sure, for many are beguiled. Put a low price upon the world's clay; but a high price upon Christ. Temptations will come, but if they be not made welcome by you, ye have the best of it. Be jealous over yourself and your own heart, and keep touches with God. Let Him not have a faint and feeble soldier of you. Fear not to back Christ, for He will conquer and overcome. Let no man scaur at Christ, for I have no quarrels at His cross; He and His cross are two good guests, and worth the lodging. Men would fain have Christ good-cheap; but the market will not come down. Acquaint yourself with prayer. Make Christ your Captain and your armour. Make conscience of sinning[223] when no eye seeth you. Grace be with you.
Yours, in Christ Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen.
D EAR AND LOVING SISTER,—I know that ye are minding your sweet country, and not taking your inn, the place of your banishment, for your home. This life is not worthy to be the thatch, or outer wall, of the paradise of your Lord Jesus, that He did sweat for to you, and that He keepeth for you. Short, and silly, and sand-blind were our hope, if it could not look over the water to our best heritage, and if it stayed only at home about the doors of our clay house.
I marvel not, my dear sister, that ye complain that ye come short of your old wrestlings which ye had for a blessing; and that now you find it not so. Bairns are but hired to learn their lesson when they first go to school. And it is enough that those who run a race see the gold only, at the starting-place; and possibly they see little more of it, or nothing at all till they win to the rinks-end, and get the gold in the loof of their hand. Our Lord maketh delicates and dainties of His sweet presents and love-visits to His own: but Christ's love, under a veil, is love. If ye get Christ, howbeit not the sweet and pleasant way ye would have Him, it is enough; for the Well-beloved cometh not our way; He must wale His own gate Himself. For worldly things, seeing there are meadows and fair flowers in your way to heaven, a smell in the bygoing is sufficient. He that would reckon and tell all the stones in his way, in a journey of three or four hundred miles, and write up in his count-book all the herbs and the flowers growing in his way, might come short of his journey. You cannot stay, in your inch of time, to lose your day (seeing that you are in haste, and the night and your afternoon will not bide you), in setting your heart on this vain world. It were your wisdom to read your account-book, and to have in readiness your business, against the time you come to death's water-side. I know that your lodging is taken; your forerunner, Christ, hath not forgotten that; and therefore you must set yourself to your "one thing," which you cannot well want.
In that our Lord took your husband to Himself, I know it was that He might make room for Himself. He cutteth off your love to the creature, that ye might learn that God only is the right owner of your love. Sorrow, loss, sadness, death, are the worst of things that are, except sin. But Christ knoweth well what to make of them, and can put His own in the cross's common, so that we shall be obliged to affliction, and thank God who taught us to make our acquaintance with such a rough companion, who can hale us to Christ. You must learn to make your evils your great good; and to spin comforts, peace, joy, communion with Christ, out of your troubles, which are Christ's wooers, sent to speak for you[224] to Himself. It is easy to get good words, and a comfortable message from our Lord, even from such rough serjeants as divers temptations. Thanks to God for crosses! When we count and reckon our losses in seeking God, we find that godliness is great gain. Great partners of a shipful of gold are glad to see the ship come to the harbour;—surely we, and our Lord Jesus together, have a shipful of gold coming home, and our gold is in that ship. Some are so in love, or, rather, in lust, with this life, that they sell their part of the ship for a little thing. I would counsel you to buy hope, but sell it not, and give not away your crosses for nothing. The inside of Christ's cross is white and joyful, and the far-end of the black cross is a fair and glorious heaven of ease. And seeing Christ hath fastened heaven to the far-end of the cross, and He will not loose the knot Himself, and none else can (for when Christ casteth a knot, all the world cannot loose it), let us then count it exceeding joy when we fall into divers temptations.
Thus recommending you to the tender mercy and grace of our Lord, I rest, your loving brother,
S. R.
Aberdeen.
[John Gordon of Cardoness, younger, like his father, previously noticed (Letter LXXXII.), was naturally a man of strong passions. Judging from this letter, he appears not only to have been neglectful of religion, but to have freely indulged in the follies and vices of youth. Rutherford warns him of his sin and danger with much freedom and affectionate earnestness; and these warnings, it is to be hoped, were not in vain. He was in the Covenanters' army, in England, in 1644, as appears from a letter of his preserved among the Wodrow MSS. It is dated "Sunderland, 28th March 1644," and is addressed to Mr. Thomas Wylie. It is written in a religious strain. After referring to the success of the army, and to the account of this drawn up by Mr. Robert Douglas, it contains in the close the following passage:—"I entreat you be kind to my wife, and deal with her neither to take my absence, nor the form of coming from her, in evil part; for, in God's presence, public duties and nothing else removed me, or marred the form of my removal. Be earnest with her that she seek a nearer acquaintance with Christ: and fail not to pray for her and her family, and me." (Wodrow MSS., vol. xxix.)]
H ONOURED AND DEAR BROTHER,—I wrote of late to you: multitudes of letters burden me now. I am refreshed with your letter.
I exhort you in the bowels of Christ, set to work for your soul. And let these bear weight with you, and ponder them seriously: 1st, Weeping and gnashing of teeth in utter darkness, or heaven's joy. 2ndly, Think what ye would give for an hour, when ye shall lie like dead, cold, blackened clay. 3rdly, There is sand in your glass yet, and your sun is not gone down. 4thly, Consider what joy and peace are in Christ's service. 5thly, Think what advantage it will be to have angels, the world, life and death, crosses, yea, and devils, all for you, as the King's serjeants and servants, to do your business. 6thly, To have mercy on your seed, and a blessing on your house. 7thly, To have true honour, and a name on earth that casteth a sweet smell. 8thly, How ye will rejoice when Christ layeth down your head under His chin, and betwixt His breasts, and drieth your face, and welcometh you to glory and happiness. 9thly, Imagine what pain and torture is a guilty conscience; what slavery to carry the devil's dishonest loads. 10thly, Sin's joys are but night-dreams, thoughts, vapours, imaginations, and shadows. 11thly, What dignity it is to be a son of God. 12thly, Dominion and mastery over temptations, over the world and sin. 13thly, That your enemies should be the tail, and you the head.
For your bairns, now at rest (I speak to you and your wife, and cause her read this). 1st, I am a witness for Barbara's glory in heaven. 2ndly, For the rest, I write it under my hand, there are days coming on Scotland when barren wombs, and dry breasts, and childless parents shall be pronounced blessed. They are, then, in the lee of the harbour ere the storm come on. 3rdly, They are not lost to you that are laid up in Christ's treasury in heaven. 4thly, At the Resurrection, ye shall meet with them; thither they are sent before, but not sent away.[225] 5thly, Your Lord loveth you, who is homely to take and give, borrow and lend. 6thly, Let not bairns be your idols; for God will be jealous, and take away the idol, because He is greedy of your love wholly.
I bless you, your wife, and children. Grace for evermore be with you.
Your loving pastor,
S. R.
Aberdeen.