To the Lady Gaitgirth — Letter 77
Much honored sir.
Grace, mercy, and peace be to you. I can do no more but thank you in writing, and remember you to him whom I serve, for your kindness and care of a prisoner. I bless the Lord — the cause I suffer for need not blush before kings; Christ's white, honest, and fair truth needs neither grow pale for fear nor blush for shame. I bless the Lord who has graced you to own Christ now, when so many are afraid to profess him and hide him for fear they suffer loss by avowing him. Alas, that so many in these days are carried with the times — as if their conscience rolled on oiled wheels, so do they go any way the wind blows them. And because Christ is not in season commercially, men put him away from them. Worthy and much honored sir, go on to own Christ and his oppressed truth. The end of sufferings for the gospel is rest and gladness; light and joy are sown for the mourners in Zion, and the harvest — which is of God's making for time and manner — is near. Crosses have right and claim to Christ in his members, until legs and arms and the whole mystical Christ be in heaven. There will be rain and hail and storm in the saints' clouds, ever until God cleanses with fire the works of creation, and until he burns the rotted house of heaven and earth that men's sin has subjected to vanity. They are blessed who suffer and sin not, for suffering is the badge that Christ has put upon his followers. Take what way we can to heaven, the way is hedged up with crosses; there is no way but to break through them. Wit and wiles, shifts and laws will not find a way around the cross of Christ; we must go through. One thing, by experience, my Lord has taught me: that the waters between this and heaven may all be forded if we be well-horsed — I mean if we be in Christ — and not one shall drown by the way but such as love their own destruction. Oh if we could wait on for a time and believe in the dark the salvation of God! At least we are to believe well of Christ until he give us the slip — which is impossible — and to take his word as surety that he shall fill up all the blanks in his promises and give us what we want. But to the unbeliever, Christ's testament is white, blank, unwritten paper. Worthy and dear sir, set your face to heaven and make yourself to stoop at all the low entries in the way, that you may receive the kingdom as a child. Without this, he who knew the way said there is no entry in. Oh but Christ is willing to lead a poor sinner! Oh, what love my poor soul has found in him in the house of my pilgrimage! Suppose love in heaven and earth were lost, I dare swear it may be found in Christ. Now the very God of peace establish you until the day of the glorious appearing of Christ.
Aberdeen, September 7, 1637. Yours in his sweet Lord Jesus, S. R.
