To Mr. George Dumbar — Letter 72

Reverend and dearly beloved in the Lord.

Grace, mercy, and peace be to you. Because your words have strengthened many, I was silent, expecting some lines from you in my bonds, and this is the cause why I did not write to you. But now I am forced to break off and speak. I never believed till now that there was so much to be found in Christ on this side of death and of heaven. Oh the ravishments of heavenly joy that may be had here, in the small gleanings of comforts that fall from Christ! What fools are we who do not know and consider the weight and the worth that is in the very earnest-money and the first fruits of our hoped-for harvest! How sweet, how sweet is our entry into possession! Oh, what then must personal possession itself be? I find that my Lord Jesus has not mistreated or spoiled this sweet cross; he has an eye on the fire and the melting gold, to separate the metal and the dross. Oh, how much time would it take me to read all my obligations to Jesus my Lord, who will neither have the faith of his own burned to ashes, nor yet will have a poor believer in the fire to be half raw — like Ephraim's unturned cake! This is the wisdom of him who has his fire in Zion and his furnace in Jerusalem. I need neither flatter temptations and crosses, nor strive to buy off the devil or this malicious world, or redeem their kindness with half a hair's breadth of truth. He who is surety for his servant does powerfully overrule all that. I see my prison has neither lock nor door; I am free in my bonds, and my chains are made of rotten straw — they shall not endure one pull of faith. I am sure those in hell who would exchange their torments for our crosses, even if they should never be delivered, and would give twenty thousand years of torment to boot to be in our bonds forever, would be getting a poor bargain. Therefore we wrong Christ who sigh and fear and doubt and despond in them. Our sufferings are washed in Christ's blood as well as our souls, for Christ's merits bought a blessing to the crosses of the sons of God. And Jesus has a bond of guarantee over all our temptations, that the free prisoners shall come out by law and justice, in respect of the infinite and great sum that the Redeemer paid. Our troubles owe us a free passage through them; devils and men and crosses are our debtors, and death and all storms are our debtors, to blow our poor tossed vessel over the water freight-free, and to set the travelers on their own known ground. Therefore we shall die and yet live. We are over the water — some way — already. We are married, and our marriage portion is paid; we are already more than conquerors. If the devil and the world knew how the case with our Lord shall go, I am sure they would hire death to take us off their hands; our sufferings are the only ruin and wreck of the black kingdom. And yet a little, and Antichrist must play himself with the bones and slain bodies of the Lamb's followers. But withal, we stand with the hundred and forty-four thousand who are with the Lamb upon the top of Mount Zion. Antichrist and his followers are down in the valley; we have the advantage of the hill. Our temptations are always beneath us; our waters are beneath our breath. As dying, and behold we live. I never heard before of a living death, or a quick death, but ours; our death is not like the common death. Christ's skill, his handiwork, and a new display of Christ's admirable art may be seen in our quick death. I bless the Lord that all our troubles come through Christ's fingers, and that he casts sugar among them, and casts in some ounce-weights of heaven and of the Spirit of glory — that rests on suffering believers — in our cup, in which there is no taste of hell. My dear brother, you know all these things better than I; I send water to the sea in speaking of them to you. But it eases me to desire you to help me pay tribute of praise to Jesus. Oh, what praises I owe him! I wish I were in my free inheritance, that I might begin to pay my debts to Jesus. I entreat your prayers and praises; I do not forget you.

Aberdeen, September 17, 1637. Your brother and fellow-sufferer in and for Christ, S. R.