To Carleton — Letter 34
Worthy and much honored.
Grace, mercy, and peace be to you. I received your letter from my brother, to which I now answer particularly. I confess two things of myself. First: woe, woe is me, that men should think there is anything in me. He is my witness before whom I am as crystal, that the secret house-devils that bear me too often company, and that this sink of corruption which I find within, makes me go with low sails; and if others saw what I see, they would look past me, but not to me. Second: I know this shower of his free grace had to be on me; otherwise I would have withered. I know also I have need of a buffeting tempter, that grace may be put to exercise and I kept low. Worthy and dear brother in our Lord Jesus, I write from my heart what you now read. First: I declare that Christ — and sweating and sighing under his cross — is sweeter to me by far than all the kingdoms in the world could possibly be. Second: if you and my dearest acquaintances in Christ reap any fruit by my suffering, let me be weighed in God's even balance, if my joy be not fulfilled. What am I, to carry the marks of such a great King? But though I am a sink and sinful mass, a wretched captive of sin, my Lord Jesus can hew heaven out of worse timber than I am — if worse can be. Third: I now rejoice with joy unspeakable and glorious, that I never purposed to bring Christ nor the least particle of truth under compromise. I desired to have and keep Christ all alone, and that he should never be mixed with that dark-skinned harlot of Rome. I am now fully repaid, so that nothing troubles me for the present, but love-sickness for a full possession of my fair and beloved Lord. I would give him my bond under my faith and hand, to defer heaven a hundred years longer, if he would but lay his holy face to my sometimes wet cheeks. Oh, who would not pity me, to know how eagerly I would have the King shaking the tree of life upon me, or letting me in to the well of life with my old cup, that I might be filled with the fountain here in the house of my pilgrimage! I cannot, no, I would not be quite free of Christ's love; he has left the mark behind him where he gripped. He goes away and leaves me and his burning love to wrestle together, and I can scarcely live on his love because of absence. My Lord gives me but hungry half-kisses, which serve to feed pain and increase hunger, but do not satisfy my desires; his careful rationing of my soul for this race makes me lean. I have gotten the choice and finest of Christ's crosses — even the best and flower of all crosses — to bear witness to the truth, and therein I find liberty, joy, access, life, comfort, love, faith, submission, patience, and resolution to take delight in waiting. And with all this in my race, he has come near me and let me see the gold and crown. What then do I lack but fruition and real enjoyment, which is reserved for my homeland? Let no man think he shall lose at Christ's hands in suffering for him. Fourth: as for these present trials, they are most dangerous, for people shall be stolen off their feet with well-washed and fair-skinned pretenses of indifference, but it is the power of the great Antichrist working in this land. Woe, woe, woe be to apostate Scotland: there is wrath, and a cup of the red wine of the wrath of God Almighty in the Lord's hand, that they shall drink and reel and fall and not rise again. The star called Wormwood and Gall has fallen in the fountains and rivers and has made them bitter. The sword of the Lord is sharpened against the idol-shepherds of the land; women shall bless the barren womb and the miscarrying breasts. All hearts shall be faint, and all knees shall tremble; an end is coming. The leopard and the lion shall watch over our cities; houses great and fair shall be desolate without an inhabitant. The Lord has said, Pray not for this people, for I have taken my peace from them. Yet the Lord's remnant shall come through the fire, as refined gold for the treasure of the Lord, and the outcasts of Scotland shall be gathered together again, and the wilderness shall blossom as the flower, and bud and grow as the rose of Sharon, and great shall be the glory of the Lord upon Scotland. Fifth: I am here assaulted with the learned and sharp wits of this kingdom, but all honor be to my Lord — truth but laughs at boasting and blinded scribes and disputers of this world, and God's wisdom confounds them, and Christ triumphs in his own strong truth that speaks for itself. Sixth: I doubt not but my Lord is preparing me for heavier trial; I am most ready, at the good pleasure of my Lord, in the strength of his grace, for anything he shall be pleased to call me to. Neither shall the last dark-faced messenger, death, be kept at the door when it shall knock. If my Lord will take honor from one like me, how glad and joyful shall my soul be. Let Christ come out with me to a hotter battle than this, and I shall fear no flesh. I know that my Master will win the day, and that he has taken the ordering of my sufferings in his own hand. Seventh: as for my deliverance, that has been delayed. I am here, by my Lord's grace, to lay my hand on my mouth, to be silent and wait. My Lord Jesus is on his journey for my deliverance; I will not grudge that he does not run as fast as I would have him. Waiting until the swelling rivers fall, and until my Lord arises as a mighty man refreshed with wine, shall be my best course. I have not yet resisted to blood. Eighth: oh, how often am I laid in the dust, and urged by the tempter — who can ride his own errands upon our lying apprehensions — to sin against the unchangeable love of my Lord. When I think upon the sparrows and swallows that build their nests in the church of Anwoth, and of my silent Sabbaths, my sorrowful blurred eyes look askance upon Christ and present him as angry. But in this trial, all honor to our princely and royal King — faith sails fair before the wind, with full sail up, and carries the poor passenger through. I place restraints upon my thoughts, that they receive no slanders of my only, only Beloved. Let him say it out of his own mouth: there is no hope; yet I will die in that sweet mistaken trust, for it is not so. I shall see the salvation of God. Let me be deceived fully and never reach dry land; it is my joy to believe under the water, and to die with faith in my hand gripping Christ. Let my convictions of Christ's love go to the grave with me — I may not, I dare not, quit them. I hope to keep Christ's pledge; if he never comes to reclaim it, let him see to his own promise. I know that presumption, though it be made of boldness, will not thus be willful in heavy trials. Now, my dearest in Christ, the great Messenger of the Covenant, the only wise and all-sufficient Jehovah, establish you to the end. I hear the Lord has been at your house and has called home your loved one to her rest. I know, sir, you see the Lord loosening the pegs of your tent, and wooing your love from this plastered and over-gilded world, and calling upon you to be making yourself ready to go to your father's country — which shall be a sweet fruit of that visitation. You know, to send the Comforter was a kingly word when he ascended on high; you have claim and interest in that promise. Remember my love in Christ to your father; show him it is late and deep midnight with him, and that his long waiting at the water's edge is so that he may look over his papers before he takes shipping, and be settled for his last answer before his judge and Lord. All love, all mercy, all grace and peace, all multiplied saving consolations, all joy and faith in Christ, all stability and confirming strength of grace, and the goodwill of him that dwelt in the bush, be with you.
Aberdeen, June 15, 1637. Your unworthy brother in his sweet Lord Jesus, S. R.
