Letters in Two Parts, Part 1 · LETTER 193
To CARLETOWN. (193)
Much honoured Sir.
I Will not impute your not writing to me, to forgetfulness: how ever, I have one above who forgetteth me not, nay, he groweth in his kindess: It hath pleased his holy Majesty to take me from the pulpit & teach me many things in my exile & prison that were mysteries to me before: As, 1. I see his bottomless & boundless love & kindness, & my jealousies & ravings, which at my first entry into this furnace were so foolish & bold, as to say to Christ, who is truth it self, in his face, thou liest. I had well nigh lost my grips: I wondered if it was Christ or not, for the mist & smoke of my perturbed heart, made me mistake my Master Jesus: My faith was dim & hope frozen & cold, & my love which caused jealousies, it had some warmness & heat & smoke but no flame at all: yet I was looking for some good of Christ's old claim to me: I thought I had forfeited all my rights, but the tempter was too much upon my counsels & was still blowing the coal: Alas I knew not well before how good skill my Intercessor and advocate, Christ, hath of pleading, and pardoning me such follies: Now he is returned to my soul with healing under his wings, and I am nothing behinde with Christ now, for he hath overpaid me by his presence, the pain I was put to by on-waiting, and any little loss I sustained by my witnessing against the wrongs done to him. I trow it was a pain to my Lord to hide himself any longer: In a manner he was challenging his unkindness & repented him of his glooms, & now what want I on earth that Christ can give to a poor prisoner? O how sweet and lovely is he now! Alas that I can get none to help me to lift up my Lord Jesus upon his throne above all the earth! 2. I am now brought to some measure of submission, and I resolve to wait till I see what my Lord Jesus will doe with me: I dare not now nick name or speak one word against the all-seeing & over-watching providence of my Lord: I see, providence runneth not on broken wheels; but I like a fool carved a providence for mine own ease, to die in my nest, & to sleep still till my gray hairs, and to lie on the sunny side of the mountain in my ministery at Anwoth: But now I have nothing to say against a borrowed fire-side & another man's house, nor Kedars tents where I live, being removed far from my acquaintance, my lovers & my friends: I see God hath the world on his wheels & casteth it as a potter doeth a vessel on the wheel: I dare not say that there is any inordinat or irregular motion in Providence; The Lord hath done it, I will not goe to law with Christ, for I would again nothing of that. 3. I have learned some greater mortification & not to mourn after or seek to suck the world's dry breasts: Nay, my Lord hath filled me with such dainties, that I am like to a full banquettor who is not for common chear. What have I to doe to fall down upon my knees & worship mankind's great idol, The World? I have a better God then any clay-God; Nay, at present as I am now disposed, I care not much to give this world a discharge of my life-rent of it, for bread & water: I know it is not my home, nor my father's house; it is but his footstool, the outer clo…ster of his house, his out-field & moorground: Let bastards take it, I hope never to think my self in it's common for honour or riches, nay now, I say to laughter, Thou art madness. 4. I finde it most true, that the greatest temp… … … … is to live without temptations if my waters should stand, they would rot: Faith is the better of the free air, & of the sharp winter-storm in it's face: Grace withereth without adversity: The Devil is but God's Masterfencer to teach us to handle our weapons. 5. I never knew how weak I was till now, when he hideth himself, & when I have him to seek seven times a day. I am a dry & withered branch & a piece of a dead carcase, dry bones & not able to step over a straw: The thoughts of my old sins are as the summonds of death to me: And of late my Brother's case hath striken me to the heart; when my wounds are closing, a little rifle, causeth them to bleed afresh: So thin-skin'd is my soul, that I think it is like a tender man's skin, that may touch nothing: ye see how short I would shoot of the prize, if his grace were not sufficient for me. Woe's me for the day of Scotland, Woe, woe is me for my harlot-mother; for the decree is gone forth: women of this land shall call the childless & miscarrying wombs blessed: The anger of the Lord is gone forth & shall not return till he perform the purpose of his heart against Scotland: Yet he shall make Scotland a new sharp instrument having teeth to thresh the mountains & fan the hills as chaff. The prisoners blessing be upon you.
Aberd. March. 14. 1637. Yours in his sweet Lord Iesus, S. R.