To Margaret Balantine — Letter 47

Mistress.

Grace, mercy, and peace be to you. It is more than time that I should have written to you, but it is yet good time, if I could help your soul to quicken your pace and go more swiftly to your heavenly country. For truly you have need to make all haste, because the short portion of your day that remains will quickly slip away; whether we sleep or wake, our hourglass runs, and the tide waits for no man. Beware of being deceived in the matter of your salvation. Woe, woe forevermore to them that lose that prize, for what is left when the soul is once lost? Sinners warm their little clay houses at a fire of their own kindling for a day or two, which does rather suffocate with its smoke than warm them, and at length they lie down in sorrow and are clothed with everlasting shame. I would seek no further measure of faith to begin with than to believe really and steadfastly the doctrine of God's justice, his all-devouring wrath, and everlasting burning, where sinners are burned soul and body in a river and great lake of fire and brimstone. Then they would wish for nothing more than the thousandth part of a cold fountain to cool their tongue; they would then buy death by enduring pain and torment for as many years as God has created drops of rain since creation. But there is no market in buying or selling life or death there. Oh alas, the greatest part of this world runs to the place of that torment rejoicing and dancing, eating, drinking, and sleeping! My counsel to you is that you start in time to be after Christ, for if you go quickly, Christ is not far before you — you shall overtake him. O Lord God, what is so needful as this: salvation, salvation! Shame upon this condemned and foolish world that will give so little for salvation. Oh, if there were a free market of salvation proclaimed in the day when the trumpet of God shall awaken the dead, how many buyers would there be then? God send me no more happiness but that salvation which the blind world, to their eternal woe, lets slip through their fingers. Therefore look if you can give out your money, as Isaiah speaks in (chapter 55), for bread, and lay Christ and his blood in pledge for heaven. It is a dry and hungry child's portion of goods that many are hunting for here. I see thousands following the chase and pursuit of such things, while in the meantime they lose the blessing, and when all is done they have caught nothing to roast for supper, but lie down hungry. Besides, they go to their bed when they die without a candle, for God says to them in (Isaiah 50:11): 'This shall you have at my hand — you shall lie down in sorrow.' And truly this is as ill-made a bed to lie upon as one could wish, for he cannot sleep soundly or rest sweetly who has sorrow for his pillow. Rouse, rouse up therefore your soul, and inquire how Christ and your soul have met together. I am sure they never truly found Christ who were not once sick at heart for him; too too many whole souls think they have met with Christ who never had a wakeful night for want of him. But alas, what richer are men for having dreamed last night that they had much gold, when they awoke in the morning and found it was but a dream? What are all the sinners in the world, in the day when heaven and earth shall go up in a flame of fire, but a number of deceived dreamers? Every one shall say of his hunting and his conquest, 'Behold, it was a dream'; every man in that day will tell his dream. I beseech you in the Lord Jesus, beware, beware of unsound work in the matter of your salvation. You may not, you cannot, you dare not want Christ. Then after this day, summon all your lovers before your soul and give them their dismissal, and strike hands with Christ, that thereafter there may be no happiness to you but Christ, no hunting for anything but Christ, no bed at night when death comes but Christ. Christ, Christ — who but Christ? I know this much of Christ: he is not difficult to find, not sparing of his love. Woe would have been my portion forevermore if Christ had made a rarity of himself to me; but God be thanked, I gave nothing for Christ, and now I declare before men and angels: Christ cannot be exchanged. Christ cannot be sold; Christ cannot be weighed. Where would angels or all the world find a balance to weigh him in? All other loves are put to shame when you stand beside Christ. Woe upon all love but the love of Christ. Hunger forevermore be upon all heavens but Christ. Shame forevermore be upon all glory but Christ's glory. I cry: death upon all lives but the life of Christ. Oh, what is it that holds us apart! Oh, that once we could have a fair meeting. Thus commending Christ to you, and you to him forevermore, I rest. Grace be with you.

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