L OVING FRIEND,—I earnestly desire your salvation. Know the Lord and seek Christ. You have a soul that cannot die: see for a lodging to your poor soul; for that house of clay will fall. Heaven or nothing! either Christ or nothing! Use prayer in your house, and set your thoughts often upon death and judgment. It is dangerous to be loose in the matter of your salvation. Few are saved; men go to heaven in ones and twos, and the whole world lieth in sin. Love your enemies, and stand by the truth which I have taught you, in all things. Fear not men, but let God be your fear. Your time will not be long: make the seeking of Christ your daily task. Ye may, when ye are in the fields, speak to God. Seek a broken heart for sin; for without that there is no meeting with Christ. I speak this to your wife, as well as to yourself. I desire your sister, in her fears and doubtings, to fasten her grips on Christ's love. I forbid her to doubt; for Christ loveth her, and hath her name written in His book. Her salvation is fast coming. Christ her Lord is not slow in coming, nor slack in His promise.
Grace be with you.
Your loving pastor,
S. R.
Aberdeen.
M UCH HONOURED SIR,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I would desire to know how my Lord took my letter, which I sent him, and how he is. I desire nothing, but that he may be fast and honest to my royal Master and King.
I am well every way, all praise to Him in whose books I must stand for ever as His debtor! Only my silence paineth me. I had one joy out of heaven, next to Christ my Lord, and that was to preach Him to this faithless generation; and they have taken that from me. It was to me as the poor man's one eye, and they have put out that eye. I know that the violence done to me, and His poor bereft bride, is come up before the Lord; and, suppose that I see not the other side of my cross, or what my Lord will bring out of it, yet I believe that the vision shall not tarry, and that Christ is on His journey for my deliverance. He goeth not slowly, but passeth over ten mountains at one stride. In the meantime, I am pained with His love, because I want real possession. When Christ cometh, He stayeth not long; but certainly, the blowing of His breath upon a poor soul is heaven upon earth; and when the wind turneth into the north, and He goeth away, I die, till the wind change into the west, and He visit His prisoner. But He holdeth me not often at His door. I am richly repaid for suffering for Him. Oh, if all Scotland were as I am, except my bonds! Oh, what pain I have, because I cannot get Him praised by my sufferings! Oh that heaven (within and without) and the earth were paper, and all the rivers, fountains, and seas were ink, and I able to write all the paper (within and without) full of His praises, and love, and excellency, to be read by man and angel! Nay, this is little; I owe my heaven to Christ; and do desire, howbeit I should never enter in at the gates of the new Jerusalem, to send my love and my praises over the wall to Christ. Alas, that time and days lie betwixt Him and me, and adjourn our meeting! It is my part to cry, "Oh, when will the night be past, and the day dawn, that we shall see one another!"
Be pleased to remember my service to my Lord, to whom I wrote; and show him that, for his affection to me, I cannot but pray for him, and earnestly desire that Christ miss him not out of the roll of those who are His witnesses, now when His kingly honour is called in question. It is his honour to hold up Christ's royal train, and to be an instrument to hold the crown upon Christ's head. Show him, because I love his true honour and standing, that this is my earnest desire for him.
Now I bless you; and the prayers of Christ's prisoner come upon you; and His sweetest presence, whom ye serve in the Spirit, accompany you.
Yours, at all obliged obedience in Christ,
S. R.
Aberdeen, June 23, 1637.
M Y REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I have exceedingly many whom I write to, else I would be kinder in paper.
I rejoice that my sweet Master hath any to back Him. Thick, thick may my royal King's court be. Oh that His kingdom might grow! It were my joy to have His house full of guests.
Except that I have some cloudy days, for the most part I have a king's life with Christ. He is all perfumed with the powders of the merchant; He hath a king's face, and a king's smell. His chariot, wherein He carrieth His poor prisoner, is of the wood of Lebanon; it is paved with love. Is not that soft ground to walk or lie on? I think better of Christ than ever I did; my thoughts of His love grow and swell on me. I never write to any of Him so much as I have felt. Oh, if I could write a book of Christ, and of His love! Suppose I were made white ashes, and burnt for this same truth that men count but as knots of straw, it were my gain, if my ashes could proclaim the worth, excellency, and love of my Lord Jesus. There is much telling of Christ: I give over the weighing of Him; heaven would not be the beam of a balance to weigh Him in. What eyes be on me, or what wind of tongues be on me, I care not: let me stand in this stage in the fool's coat, and act a fool's part to the rest of this nation. If I can set my Well-beloved on high, and witness fair for Him, a fig for their hosanna. If I can roll myself in a lap of Christ's garment, I shall lie there, and laugh at the thoughts of dying bits of clay.
Brother, we have cause to weep for our harlot-mother; her Husband is sending her to Rome's brothel-house, which is the gate she liketh well. Yet I persuade you that there shall be a fair after-growth for Christ in Scotland, and that this church shall sing the Bridegroom's welcome home again to His own house. The worms shall eat them first, ere they cause Christ to take good-night at Scotland. I am here assaulted with the Doctors' guns;[324] but I bless the Father of lights, that they draw not blood of truth. I find no lodging in the hearts of natural men, who are cold friends to my Master.
I pray you, remember my love to that gentleman, A. C. My heart is knit to him, because he and I have one Master. Remember my bonds, and present my service to my Lord and my Lady.[325] I wish that Christ may be dearer to them than He is to many of their place.
Grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, July 5, 1637.
M ADAM,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—Few, I believe, know the pain and torment of Christ's fristed love: fristing with Christ's presence is a matter of torment. I know a poor soul that would lay all oars in the water for a banquet or feast of Christ's love. I cannot think but it must be uptaking and sweet, to see the white and red of Christ's fair face; for He is white and ruddy, and the chiefest among ten thousand (Cant. v. 10). I am sure that must be a well-made face of His: heaven must be in His visage; glory, glory for evermore must sit on His countenance. I dare not curse the mask and covering that are on His face; but oh, if there were a hole in it! Oh, if God would tear the mask! Fy, fy upon us! we were never ashamed till now, that we do not proclaim our pining and languishing for Him. I am sure that never tongue spake of Christ as He is. I am still of that mind, and still will be, that we wrong and undervalue that holy, holy One, in having such short and shallow thoughts of His weight and worth. Oh, if I could but have leave to stand beside and see the Father weigh Christ the Son, if it were possible! But how every one of them comprehendeth another, we, who have eyes of clay, cannot comprehend. But it is a pity for evermore, and more than shame, that such an one as Christ should sit in heaven His lone for us. To go up thither once-errand and on purpose to see, were no small glory. Oh that He would strike out windows, and fair and great lights, in this old house, this fallen-down soul, and then set the soul near-hand Christ, that the rays and beams of light and the soul-delighting glances of the fair, fair Godhead might shine in at the windows, and fill the house! A fairer, and more near, and direct, sight of Christ would make room for His love; for we are but pinched and straitened in His love. Alas, it were easy to measure and weigh all the love that we have for Christ, by inches and ounces! Alas, that we should love by measure and weight, and not rather have floods and feasts of Christ's love! Oh that Christ would break down the old narrow vessels of these narrow and ebb souls, and make fair, deep, wide, and broad souls, to hold a sea and a full tide (flowing over all its banks) of Christ's love!
Oh that the Almighty would give me my request! that I might see Christ come to His temple again, as He is minting, and, it is like, minding to do. And if the land were humbled, the judgments threatened are with this reservation (I know), "If ye will turn and repent." Oh, what a heaven should we have on earth, to see Scotland's moon like the light of the sun, and Scotland's sun-light sevenfold, like the light of seven days, in the day that the Lord bindeth up the breach of His people, and healeth the stroke of their wound! (Isa. xxx. 26). Alas, that we will not pull and draw Christ to His old tents again, to come and feed among the lilies, till the day break, and the shadows flee away! Oh that the nobles would go on, in the strength and courage of the Lord, to bring our lawful King Jesus home again! I am persuaded that He shall return again in glory to this land; but happy were they, who would help to convoy Him to His sanctuary, and set Him again up upon that mercy-seat, betwixt the cherubim. O sun, return to darkened Britain! O fairest among all the sons of men, O most excellent One, come home again! come home, and win the praises and blessings of the mourners in Zion, the prisoners of hope, that wait for Thee! I know that He can also triumph in suffering, and weep and reign, and die and triumph, and remain in prison and yet subdue His enemies; but how happy were I to see the coronation-day of Christ, to see His mother, who bare Him, put the crown upon His head again, and cry with shouting, till the earth should ring, "Let Jesus, our King, live and reign for evermore!"
Grace, grace be with your Ladyship.
Your Ladyship's, at all obedience in Christ,
S. R.
Aberdeen, 1637.
M ISTRESS,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—Though not acquainted, yet at the desire of a Christian brother, I have thought good to write a line unto you, entreating you, in the Lord Jesus, under your trials to keep an ear open to Christ, who can speak for Himself, howbeit your visitations,[326] and your own sense, should dream hard things of His love and favour. Our Lord never getteth so kind a look of us, nor our love in such a degree, nor our faith in such a measure of stedfastness, as He getteth out of the furnace of our tempting fears and sharp trials. I verily believe (and two sad proofs in me say no less), that if our Lord would grind our whorish lusts into powder, the very old ashes of our corruption would take life again, and live, and hold us under so much bondage, that may humble us, and make us sad, till we be in that country where we shall need no physic at all. Oh, what violent means doth our Lord use to gain us to Him, as if indeed we were a prize worthy His fighting for! And be sure, if leading would do the turn, He would not use pulling of the hair, and drawing: but the best of us will bide a strong pull of our Lord's right arm ere we follow Him. Yet I say not this, as if our Lord always measured afflictions by so many ounce-weights, answerable to the grain-weights of our guiltiness. I know that He doth in many (and possibly in you) seek nothing so much as faith, that can endure summer and winter in their extremity. Oh, how precious to the Lord are faith and love, that when threshed, beaten, and chased away, and bosted as it were by God Himself, doth yet look warm-like, love-like, kind-like, and life-like, home-over to Christ, and would be in at Him, ill and well as it may be.
Think it not much that your husband, or the nearest to you in the world, proveth to have the bowels and mercy of the ostrich, hard, and rigorous, and cruel; for the Lord taketh up such fallen ones as these (Ps. xxvii. 10). I could not wish a sweeter life, or more satisfying expressions of kindness, till I be up at that Prince of kindness, than the Lord's saints find, when the Lord taketh up men's refuse, and lodgeth this world's outlaws, whom no man seeketh after. His breath is never so hot, His love casteth never such a flame, as when this world, and those who should be the helpers of our joy, cast water on our coal. It is a sweet thing to see them cast out, and God taken in; and to see them throw us away as the refuse of men, and God take us up as His jewels and His treasure. Often He maketh gold of dross, as once He made the cast-away stone, "the stone rejected by the builders," the head of the corner. The princes of this world would not have our Lord Jesus as a pinning in the wall, or to have any place in the building; but the Lord made Him the master-stone of power and place. God be thanked, that this world hath not power to cry us down so many pounds, as rulers cry down light gold, or light silver. We shall stand for as much as our master-coiner Christ, whose coin, arms, and stamp we bear, will have us. Christ hath no miscarrying balance. Thank your Lord, who chaseth your love through two kingdoms, and followeth you and it over sea, to have you for Himself, as He speaketh (Hos. iii. 3). For God layeth up His saints, as the wale and the choice of all the world, for Himself; and this is like Christ and His love. Oh, what in heaven, or out of heaven, is comparable to the smell of Christ's garments! Nay, suppose that our Lord would manifest His art, and make ten thousand heavens of good and glorious things, and of new joys, devised out of the deep of infinite wisdom, He could not make the like of Christ; for Christ is God, and God cannot be made. And therefore, let us hold with Christ, howbeit we might have our wale and will of a host of lovers, as many as three heavens could contain.
Oh that He and we were together! Oh, when Christ and ye shall meet about the utmost march and borders of time, and the entry into eternity, ye shall see heaven in His face at the first look, and salvation and glory sitting in His countenance, and betwixt His eyes. Faint not; the miles to heaven are but few and short. He is making a green bed (as the word speaketh, Cant. i. 16) of love, for Himself and you. There are many heads lying in Christ's bosom, but there is room for yours among the rest; and, therefore, go on, and let hope go before you. Sin not in your trials, and the victory is yours. Pray, wrestle, and believe, and ye shall overcome and prevail with God, as Jacob did. No windlestraws, no bits of clay, no temptations, which are of no longer life than an hour, will then be able to withstand you, when once you have prevailed with God.
Help me with your prayers, that it would please the Lord to give me house-room again, to speak of His righteousness in the great congregation, if it may seem good in His sight.
Grace, grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, July 6, 1637.
D EAR BROTHER,—Ye are heartily welcome to that honour that Christ hath made common to us both, which is to suffer for His name. Verily I think it my garland and crown; and if the Lord should ask of me my blood and life for this cause, I would gladly, in His strength, pay due debt to Christ's honour and glory, in that kind. Acquaint yourself with Christ's love, and ye shall not miss to find new golden mines and treasures in Christ. Nay, truly, we but stand beside Christ, we go not in to Him to take our fill of Him. But if He would do two things,—(1) Draw the curtains, and make bare His holy face; and then (2) Clear our dim and bleared eyes, to see His beauty and glory. He should find many lovers. I would seek no more happiness than a sight of Him so near-hand, as to see, hear, smell, and touch, and embrace Him. But oh closed doors, and vails, and curtains, and thick clouds hold me in pain, while I find the sweet burning of His love, that many waters cannot quench! Oh, what sad hours have I, when I think that the love of Christ scaureth at me, and bloweth by me! If my Lord Jesus would come to bargaining for His love, I think He might make the price Himself. I should not refuse ten thousand years in hell, to have a wide soul enlarged and made wider, that I might be exceedingly, even to the running-over, filled with His love. Oh, what am I, to love such a One, or to be loved by that high and lofty One! I think the angels may blush to look upon Him; and what am I, to fyle such infinite brightness with my sinful eyes! Oh that Christ would come near, and stand still, and give me leave to look upon Him! for to look seemeth the poor man's privilege, since he may, for nothing and without hire, behold the sun. I should have a king's life, if I had no other thing to do, than for evermore to behold and eye my fair Lord Jesus: nay, suppose I were holden out at heaven's fair entry, I should be happy for evermore, to look through a hole in the door, and see my dearest and fairest Lord's face. O great King, why standest Thou aloof? Why remainest Thou beyond the mountains? O Well-beloved, why dost Thou pain a poor soul with delays? A long time out of Thy glorious presence is two deaths and two hells to me. We must meet, I must see Him, I dow not want Him. Hunger and longing for Christ hath brought on such a necessity of enjoying Christ, that, cost me what it will, I cannot but assure Christ that I will not, I dow not want Him; for I cannot master nor command Christ's love. Nay, hell (as I now think), and all the pains in it, laid on me alone, would not put me from loving. Yea, suppose that my Lord Jesus would not love me, it is above my strength or power to keep back or imprison the weak love which I have, but it must be out to Christ. I would set heaven's joy aside, and live upon Christ's love its lone. Let me have no joy but the warmness and fire of Christ's love; I seek no other, God knoweth. If this love be taken from me, the bottom is fallen out of all my happiness and joy; and, therefore, I believe that Christ will never do me that much harm, as to bereave a poor prisoner of His love. It were cruelty to take it from me; and He, who is kindness itself, cannot be cruel.
Dear brother, weary not of my sweet Master's chains; we are so much the sibber to Christ that we suffer. Lodge not a hard thought of my royal King. Rejoice in His cross. Your deliverance sleepeth not. He that will come is not slack of His promise. Wait on for God's timeous salvation; ask not when, or how long? I hope He shall lose nothing of you in the furnace, but dross. Commit your cause in meekness (forgiving your oppressors) to God, and your sentence shall come back from Him laughing. Our Bridegroom's day is posting fast on; and this world, that seemeth to go with a long and a short foot, shall be put into two ranks. Wait till your ten days (Rev. ii. 10) be ended, and hope for the crown. Christ will not give you a blind in the end.
Commend me to your wife and father, and to Bailie M. A.; and send this letter to him.
The prayers of Christ's prisoner be upon you, and the Lord's presence accompany you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, July 6, 1637.
[Disdove, or Disdow, is a farm about two miles from Gatehouse and a mile from Girthon Manse, a single mansion among trees. Lennox's name often occurs in the "Minute-book of Comm. of Covenanters." Was he connected with Lennox of Cally?]
D EAR BROTHER,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I beseech you in the Lord Jesus, make fast and sure work of life eternal. Sow not rotten seed: every man's work will speak for itself, what his seed hath been. Oh, how many see I, who sow to the flesh! Alas, what a crop will that be, when the Lord shall put in His hook to reap this world that is ripe and white for judgment!
I recommend to you holiness and sanctification, and that you keep yourself clean from this present evil world. We delight to tell our own dreams, and to flatter our own flesh with the hope which we have. It were wisdom for us to be free, plain, honest, and sharp with our own souls, and to charge them to brew better, that they may drink well, and fare well, when time is melted away like snow in a hot summer. Oh, how hard a thing is it, to get the soul to give up with all things on this side of death and doomsday! We say that we are removing and going from this world; but our heart stirreth not one foot off its seat. Alas! I see few heavenly-minded souls, that have nothing upon the earth but their body of clay going up and down this earth, because their soul and the powers of it are up in heaven, and there their hearts live, desire, enjoy, rejoice. Oh! men's souls have no wings; and, therefore, night and day they keep their nest, and are not acquainted with Christ. Sir, take you to your one thing, to Christ, that ye may be acquainted with the taste of His sweetness and excellency; and charge your love not to dote upon this world, for it will not do your business in that day, when nothing will come in good stead to you but God's favour. Build upon Christ some good, choice, and fast work; for when your soul for many years hath taken the play, and hath posted, and wandered through the creatures, ye will come home again with the wind.[327] They are not good, at least not the soul's good. It is the infinite Godhead that must allay the sharpness of your hunger after happiness, otherwise there shall still be a want of satisfaction to your desires: and if He should cast in ten worlds into your desires, all shall fall through, and your soul will still cry, "Red hunger! black hunger!" But I am sure there is sufficient for you in Christ, if ye had seven souls and seven desires in you.
Oh, if I could make my Lord Jesus market-sweet, lovely, desirable, and fair to all the world, both to Jew and Gentile! Oh, let my part of heaven go for it, so being He would take my tongue to be His instrument, to set out Christ in His whole braveries of love, virtue, grace, sweetness, and matchless glory, to the eyes and hearts of Jews and Gentiles! But who is sufficient for these things? Oh, for the help of angels' tongues, to make Christ eye-sweet and amiable to many thousands! Oh, how little doth this world see of Him, and how far are they from the love of Him, seeing there is so much loveliness, beauty, and sweetness in Christ, that no created eye did ever yet see! I would that all men knew His glory, and that I could put many in at the Bridegroom's chamber-door, to see His beauty, and to be partakers of His high, and deep, and broad, and boundless love. Oh, let all the world come nigh and see Christ, and they shall then see more than I can say of Him! Oh, if I had a pledge or pawn to lay down for a seaful of His love! that I could come by so much of Christ, as would satisfy greening and longing for Him, or rather increase it, till I were in full possession! I know that we shall meet; and therein I rejoice.
Sir, stand fast in the truth of Christ that ye have received. Yield to no winds, but ride out, and let Christ be your anchor, and the only He, whom ye shall look to see in peace. Pray for me, His prisoner, that the Lord would send me among you to feed His people.
Grace, grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, 1637.
[James Hamilton was educated for the ministry in Scotland, but going over to Ireland, he continued for some time to act as steward or agent for his uncle, Lord Claneboy. He commenced his labours as a preacher of the Gospel in 1624, and in the following year was settled at Ballywater, in the county of Down, in which charge, says Robert Blair, "he was painful, successful, and constant, notwithstanding he had many temptations to follow promotion, which he might easily have obtained" (Blair's "Life"). In August 1636, he and several of his brethren in the ministry were deposed by Henry Leslie, Bishop of Down, for refusing to subscribe the canons then imposed on ministers in Ireland. He was one of those who that year embarked for New England, but who were forced to return by the adverse state of the weather. After his coming over to Scotland, he became minister of Dumfries, and subsequently of Edinburgh, where he continued to labour for fifteen years. He was a member of the famous Assembly held at Glasgow in 1638. In March 1644, he and Mr. Weir, minister of Dalserf, were appointed to administer the Solemn League and Covenant in Ireland. On their return to Scotland, falling in with the noted Alaster Macdonnell, the two ministers, with several others (including Hamilton's father-in-law, Mr. Watson, a minister in Ireland), were taken prisoners, and carried to Castle Meagrie, or Mingarry, on the coast of Ardnamurchan, where they suffered incredible hardships, which brought Mr. Weir and Mr. Watson to their graves. Hamilton was liberated in May 1645, after an imprisonment of ten months. In August 1651, when the Committee of Estates and of the General Assembly, of which he was a member, were sitting at Alyth, they were apprehended by a party of horse sent out by Monk, and were shipped for the Tower of London, where Hamilton was kept two years. Continuing faithful to the principles, he was ejected from his charge in 1662, upon which he retired to Inveresk, and died on the 10th of March 1666. "He was naturally of an excellent temperament both of body and mind; always industrious and facetious in all the several provinces and scenes of his life; he was delightful to his friends and acquaintances, yea beloved of his enemies; he was bold for truth, and tenacious in everything of moment, though naturally, and in his own things, among the mildest of men; rich in learning, intelligent, judicious, he was great in esteem with the greatest and wisest" (Reid's "History of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland"). Blair, in his "Life" (p. 136, Wodrow Edit.), mentions another James Hamilton, minister, first at Killileagh, in Ireland, and then at Ballantrae, in Scotland. Blair's first wife was sister to the wife of this James Hamilton of Killileagh, and her name was Catherine Montgomery of Busby.]
R EVEREND AND DEARLY BELOVED IN OUR LORD,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—Our acquaintance is neither in bodily presence, nor on paper; but as sons of the same Father, and sufferers for the same truth.
Let no man doubt that the state of our question,[328] we are now forced to stand to by suffering exile and imprisonment, is, If Jesus should reign over His kirk, or not? Oh, if my sinful arm could hold the crown on His head, howbeit it should be stricken off from the shoulder-blade! For your ensuing and feared trial, my very dearest in our Lord Jesus, alas! what am I, to speak comfort to a soldier of Christ, who hath done a hundred times more for that worthy and honourable cause than I can do? But I know, those of whom the world was not worthy wandered up and down in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth; and while there is one member of mystical Christ out of heaven, that member must suffer strokes, till our Lord Jesus draw in that member within the gates of the New Jerusalem, which He will not fail to do at last; for not one toe or finger of that body, but it shall be taken in within the city. What can be our part, in this pitched battle betwixt the Lamb and the Dragon, but to receive the darts in patience, that rebound off us upon our sweet Master; or rather light first upon Him, and then rebound off Him upon His servants? I think it a sweet north wind, that bloweth first upon the fair face of the Chief among ten thousand, and then lighteth upon our sinful and black faces. When once the wind bloweth off Him upon me, I think it hath a sweet smell of Christ; and so must be some more than a single cross. I know that ye have a guard about you, and your attendance and train for your safety is far beyond your pursuer's force or fraud. It is good, under feud, to be near our ward-house,[329] and stronghold. We can do little to resist them who persecute us and oppose Him, but keep our blood and our wounds to the next court-day, when our complaints shall be read. If this day be not Christ's, I am sure the morrow shall be His.
As for anything I do in my bonds, when now and then a word falleth from me, alas! it is very little. I am exceedingly grieved that any should conceive anything to be in such a broken and empty reed. Let no man impute it to me, that the free and unbought wind (for I gave nothing for it) bloweth upon an empty reed. I am His over-burdened debtor. I cry, "Down with me, down, down with all the excellency of the world; and up, up with Christ!" Long, long may that fair One, that holy One, be on high! My curse be upon them that love Him not. Oh, how glad would I be, if His glory would grow out and spring up out of my bonds and sufferings! Certainly, since I became His prisoner, He hath won the yolk and heart of my soul. Christ is even become a new Christ to me, and His love greener than it was. And now I strive no more with Him: His love shall carry it away. I lay down myself under His love. I desire to sing, and to cry, and to proclaim myself, even under the water, in His common, and eternally indebted to His kindness. I will not offer to quit commons with Him (as we used to say), for that will not be. All, all for evermore to be Christ's! What further trials are before me, I know not; but I know that Christ will have a saved soul of me, over on the other side of the water, on the yonder-side of crosses, and beyond men's wrongs.
I had but one eye, and that they have put out. My one joy, next to the flower of my joys, Christ, was to preach my sweetest, sweetest Master, and the glory of His kingdom; and it seemed no cruelty to them to put out the poor man's one eye. And now I am seeking about to see if suffering will speak my fair One's praises; and I am trying if a dumb man's tongue can raise one note, or one of Zion's springs, to advance my Well-beloved's glory. Oh, if He would make some glory to Himself out of a dumb prisoner! I go with child of His word: I cannot be delivered. None here will have my Master: alas! what aileth them at Him?
I bless you for your prayers. Add to them praises: as I am able, I pay you home. I commend your diving in Christ's Testament; I would I could set out the dead man's good-will to His friends, in His sweet Testament. Speak a prisoner's hearty commendations to Christ. Fear not, your ten days (Rev. ii. 10) will over. Those that are gathered against Mount Zion, their eyes shall melt away in their eye-holes, and their tongues consume away in their mouths, and Christ's withered garden shall grow green again in Scotland. My Lord Jesus hath a word hid in heaven for Scotland, not yet brought out.
Grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, July 7, 1637.
[Mrs. Stuart is the wife of Provost Stuart of Ayr, of whom see an account, Letter CLXI.]
M ISTRESS,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I am sorry that ye take it so hardly that I have not written to you.
I am judged to be that which I am not. I fear that if I were put into the fire, I should melt away, and fall down in shreds of painted nature; for truly I have little stuff at home that is worth the eye of God's servants. If there be anything of Christ's in me (as I dare not deny some of His work), it is but a spunk of borrowed fire, that can scarce warm myself, and hath little heat for standers-by. I would fain have that which ye and others believe I have; but ye are only witnesses to my outer side, and to some words on paper. Oh that He would give me more than paper-grace or tongue-grace! Were it not that want paineth me, I should have a skailed house, and gone a-begging long since. But Christ hath left me with some hunger, that is more hot than wise, and is ready often to say, "If Christ longed for me as I do for Him, we should not be long in meeting; and if He loved my company as well as I do His, even while I am writing this letter to you, we should fly into each other's arms." But I know there is more will than wit in this languor and pining love for Christ; and no marvel, for Christ's love would have hot harvest[330] long ere midsummer. But if I have any love to Him, Christ hath both love to me, and wit to guide His love. And I see that the best thing I have hath as much dross beside it as might curse me and it both; and, if it were for no more, we have need of a Saviour to pardon the very faults, and diseases, and weakness of the new man, and to take away (to say so) our godly sins, or the sins of our sanctification, and the dross and scum of spiritual love. Wo, wo is me! Oh, what need is there, then, of Christ's calling, to scour, and cleanse, and wash away an ugly old body of sin, the very image of Satan! I know nothing surer than that there is an office for Christ amongst us. I wish for no other heaven on this side of the last sea that I must cross, than this service of Christ, to make my blackness beauty, my deadness life, my guiltiness sanctification. I long much for that day, when I shall be holy. Oh, what spots are yet unwashen! Oh that I could change the skin of the leopard and the Moor, and niffer it with some of Christ's fairness! Were my blackness and Christ's beauty carded through-other (as we use to speak), His beauty and holiness would eat up my filthiness. But, oh, I have not casten old Adam's hue and colour yet. I trow that the best of us hath a smell yet of the old loathsome body of sin and guiltiness. Happy are they for evermore who can employ Christ, and set His blood and death on work, to make clean work to God of foul souls. I know that it is our sin that we would have sanctification on the sunny side of the hill, and holiness with nothing but summer, and no crosses at all. Sin hath made us as tender as if we were made of paper or glass. I am often thinking, what would I think of Christ and burning quick together! of Christ and torturing, and hot melted lead poured in at mouth and navel! Yet I have some weak experience (but very weak indeed), that suppose Christ and hell's torments were married together, and if there were no finding of Christ at all except I went to hell's furnace, that there, and in no other place, I could meet with Him, I trow, that (if I were as I have been since I was His prisoner) I would beg lodging for God's sake in hell's hottest furnace, that I might rub souls with Christ. But God be thanked, I shall find Him in a better lodging. We get Christ better-cheap than so: when He is rouped to us, we get Him but with a shower of summer troubles in this life, as sweet and soft to believers as a May-dew.
I would have you and myself helping Christ mystical to weep for His wife. And oh that we could mourn for Christ buried in Scotland, and for His two slain witnesses, killed because they prophesied! If we could so importune and solicit God, our buried Lord and His two buried witnesses should rise again. Earth, and clay, and stone, will not bear down Christ and the Gospel in Scotland. I know not if I shall see the second temple, and the glory of it; but the Lord hath deceived me if it be not to be reared up again. I would wish to give Christ His welcome home again. My blessing, my joy, my glory, and love be on the Home-comer.
I find no better use of suffering than that Christ's winnowing putteth chaff and corn in the saints to sundry places, and discovereth our dross from His gold, so as corruption and grace are so seen, that Christ saith in the furnace, "That is Mine, and this is thine. The scum and the grounds, thy stomach against the persecutors, thy impatience, thy unbelief, thy quarrelling, these are thine; and faith, on-waiting, love, joy, courage, are Mine." Oh, let me die one of Christ's on-waiters, and one of His attendants!
I know that your heart and Christ are married together; it were not good to make a divorce. Rue not of that meeting and marriage with such a Husband. Pray for me, His prisoner. Grace, grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, 1637.
R EVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I received your letter. I bless you for it.
My dry root would take more dew and summer's-rain than it getteth, were it not that Christ will have dryness and deadness in us to work upon. If there were no timber to work upon, art would die, and never be seen. I see that grace hath a field, to play upon and to course up and down, in our wants; so that I am often thanking God, not for guiltiness, but for guiltiness for Christ to whet and sharpen His grace upon. I am half content to have boils for the sake of the plasters of my Lord Jesus. Sickness hath this advantage, that it draweth our sweet Physician's hand, and His holy and soft fingers, to touch our withered and leper skins. It is a blessed fever that fetcheth Christ to the bedside. I think my Lord's "How doest thou with it, sick body?" is worth all my pained nights. Surely, I have no more for Christ than emptiness and want; take or leave, He will get me no otherwise. I must sell myself and my wants to Him; but I have no price to give for Him. If He would put a fair and real seal upon His love to me, and bestow upon me a larger share of Christ's love (which I would fainest be in hands with of anything; I except not heaven itself), I should go on sighing and singing under His cross. But the worst is, many take me for somebody, because the wind bloweth upon a withered prisoner; but the truth is, that I am both lean and thin in that, wherein many believe I abound. I would, if bartering were in my power, niffer joy with Christ's love and faith, and instead of the hot sunshine, be content to walk under a cloudy shadow with more grief and sadness, to have more faith, and a fair occasion of setting forth and commending Christ, and to make that lovely One, that fair One, that sweetest and dearest Lord Jesus, market-sweet for many ears and hearts in Scotland. And, if it were in my power, to roup Christ to the three kingdoms, and withal persuade buyers to come, and to take such sweet wares as Christ, I would think to have many sweet bargains betwixt Christ and the sons of men. I would that I could be humble and go with a low sail; I would that I had desires with wings, and running upon wheels, swift, and active, and speedy, in longing for Christ's honour. But I know that my Lord is as wise here as I dow be thirsty; and infinitely more zealous of His honour than I can be hungry for the manifestation of it to men and angels. But, oh that my Lord would take my desires off my hand, and a thousand-fold more unto them, and sow spiritual inclinations upon them, for the coming of Christ's kingdom to the sons of men, that they might be higher, and deeper, and longer, and broader! For my longest measures are too short for Christ, my depth is ebb, and the breadth of my affections to Christ narrowed and pinched. Oh for an ingine and a wit, to prescribe ways to men how Christ might be all, in all the world! Wit is here behind affection, and affection behind obligation. Oh, how little dow I give to Christ, and how much hath He given me! Oh that I could sing grace's praises, and love's praises! seeing that I was like a fool soliciting the Law, and making moyen to the Law's court for mercy, and found challenges that way. But now I deny that judge's power; for I am Grace's man. I hold not worth a drink of water, the Law, or any lord but Jesus:—and till I bethought me of this, I was slain with doubtings, and fears, and terrors. I praise the new court, and the new landlord, and the new salvation, purchased in the name of Jesus and at His instance. Let the Old Man, if he please, go make his moan to the Law, and seek acquaintance thereaway, because he is condemned in that court; I hope that the New Man (I and Christ together) will not be heard;[331] and this is the more soft and the more easy way for me and for my cross together. Seeing that Christ singeth my welcome home, and taketh me in, and maketh short accounts and short work of reckoning betwixt me and my Judge, I must be Christ's man, and His tenant, and subject to His court. I am sure that suffering for Christ could not be borne otherwise; but I give my hand and my faith to all who would suffer for Christ, that they shall be well handled, and fare well in the same way, that I have found the cross easy and light.
Grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, July 8, 1637.
[Alexander Gordon was proprietor of Garloch, an estate lying in Kells, about five miles N. W. of New Galloway. It is often corrupted into "Garroch." He was brother to Robert Gordon of Knockbrex, formerly noticed. He was a warm promoter of the Presbyterian cause in his day. Livingstone describes him as a "very gracious person;" and mentions him as present at a private meeting for prayer and Christian conference, with a number of "eminent Christians." John Gordon of Knockbrex, and his brother Robert, who were publicly executed in 1666, for being concerned in the insurrection at Pentland Hills, were the grandchildren of the subject of this notice. See Letter LXV. They were tried for high treason and rebellion, and sentenced to be hanged at the Cross of Edinburgh upon the 7th of December that year, their goods confiscated, their bodies thereafter dismembered, and their heads fixed on the gate of Kirkcudbright. Other eight were at the same time condemned; and the arms of all the ten (because they had with uplifted hands renewed the Covenant at Lanark, previous to the engagement) were to be cut off and sent to that town, to be fixed on the top of the prison. This sentence was executed in all its parts. The case of all the sufferers, but particularly that of the Gordons, who, as Wodrow informs us, "were youths of shining piety, and good learning and parts," excited much sympathy. When turned off the ladder, the two brothers clasped each other in their arms, and in this affectionate embrace endured the pangs of death. "They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided."
Livingstone, in the beginning of his "Historical Relation of his Life," mentions meetings which he used to hold at Airds (where Gordon of Earlston at one time resided), and at Garloch, or, as it is printed in different editions, Gairleuch or Garleuch. Gordon of Garloch was a warm friend to the truth. Gordon, the "translator of Tacitus," was a descendant of this family.]