To the Right Honourable and Christian Lady, the Viscountess of Kenmure — Letter 9

Madam.

Grace, mercy, and peace be to your ladyship. I would not omit to write a line with this Christian bearer, one in your ladyship's own case, driven near to Christ in and by her affliction. I wish that my friends in Galloway forget me not; however it be, Christ is so good that I will have no other tutor, suppose I could have choice of ten thousand besides. I think now five hundred heavy hearts for him too little. I wish Christ now weeping, suffering, and condemned of men, were more dear and desirable to many souls than he is. I am sure if the saints wanted Christ's cross, so profitable and so sweet, they might for the gain and glory of it wish it were lawful either to buy or borrow his cross. But it is a mercy that the saints have it laid to their hand for nothing, for I know no sweeter way to heaven than through free grace and hard trials together, and one of these cannot well want the other. O that time would post faster and hasten our long-looked-for communion with that fairest, fairest among the sons of men! O that the day would favor us and come, and put Christ and us in each other's arms! I am sure a few years will do our turn, and the soldier's hourglass will soon run out. Madam, look to your lamp, and look for your Lord's coming, and let your heart dwell aloof from that sweet child. Christ's jealousy will not admit two equal loves in your ladyship's heart; he must have one, and that the greatest. A little love to a creature may and must suffice a soul married to him. Your maker is your husband (Isaiah 54). I would wish you well, and my obligation these many years bygone speaks no less to me; but more I can neither wish nor pray nor desire for your ladyship than Christ singled and chosen out from all created good things, or Christ however wet in his own blood and wearing a crown of thorns. I am sure the saints at their best are but strangers to the weight and worth of the incomparable sweetness of Christ. He is so new, so fresh in excellency, every day anew to those that search more and more in him, as if heaven could furnish as many new Christs (if I may speak so) as there are days between him and us, and yet he is one and the same. Oh, we love an unknown lover when we love Christ! Let me hear how the child is every way. The prayers of a prisoner of Christ be upon him. Grace forevermore, even while glory perfects it, be with your ladyship.

Aberdeen, 1637. Yours in his sweet Lord Jesus, S. R.