To Mr. David Dickson — Letter 21
Reverend and dear brother.
Grace, mercy, and peace be to you. I find great men, especially old friends, reluctant to speak for me, but my kingly and royal master bids me try his influence to the uttermost, and I shall find a friend at hand. I still depend on him; his court is as before; the prisoner is welcome to him. The black crabbed tree of my Lord's cross has made Christ and my soul very intimate; 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 for the most part my life is joy, and such joy through his comforts, that I have been afraid to shame myself and to cry out, for I can scarce bear what I get. Christ gives me a measure heaped up, pressed down, and running over. And believe it, his love pains me more than prison and banishment. I cannot get enough of Christ's love; had I known what he was keeping for me, I would never have been so faint-hearted. In my heaviest times when all is lost, the memory of his love makes me think Christ's frowns are but for appearance. I seek no more but a vent to my wine; I am smothered and ready to burst for want of a vent. Think not much of persecution; it is before you, but it is not as men conceive of it. My sugared cross forces me to say this to you: you shall have choice meat; the sick child is often times the favored child; you shall command all the house. I hope you help a tired prisoner to pray and praise. Had I but the annual interest of interest to give to my Lord Jesus, it should ease my pain. But alas, I have nothing to pay; he will get nothing of poor me. But I am sorry I have not room enough in my heart for such a stranger. I am not cast down to go further north; I have good cause to work for my master, for I am well paid beforehand. I am not behind, however I should not get one smile more, till my feet be up within the king's dining hall. I have gone through your work upon the covenant; it has edified my soul and refreshed a hungry man. I judge it sharp, sweet, quick, and profound; take me at my word. I fear it will 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, 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 a gratuity 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 before any accepts him. Grace be with you.
Aberdeen. Yours in his sweet Lord Jesus. S. R.
