LXXIX.--_To_ MARGARET BALLANTINE.
[This name is not found among the people of the parish of Anwoth.
Like John Laurie, Letter CLXXV., she may have been some one at a
distance.]
(_VALUE OF THE SOUL AND URGENCY OF SALVATION._)
MISTRESS,--Grace, mercy, and peace be unto 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 mend your pace, and to go more swiftly to your
heavenly country. For truly ye have need to make all haste, because
the inch of your day that remaineth will quickly slip away; for
whether we sleep or wake, our glass runneth. The tide bideth no man.
Beware of a beguile in the matter of your salvation. Woe, woe for
evermore, to them that lose that prize. For what is behind, when the
soul is once lost, but that sinners warm their bits of clay houses at
a fire of their own kindling, for a day or two (which doth 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 withal than to believe really and
stedfastly the doctrine of God's justice, His all-devouring wrath, and
everlasting burning, where sinners are burnt, soul and body, in a
river and great lake of fire and brimstone. Then they would wish no
more goods than the thousandth part of a cold fountain-well to cool
their tongues. They would then buy death with enduring of pain and
torment for as many years as God hath created drops of rain since the
creation. But there is no market of buying or selling life or death
there. O, alas! the greatest part of this world run to the place of
that torment rejoicing and dancing, eating, drinking, and sleeping. My
counsel to you is, that ye start in time to be after Christ; for if ye
go quickly, Christ is not far before you; ye shall overtake Him. O
Lord God, what is so needful as this, "Salvation, salvation!" Fy upon
this condemned and foolish world, that would give so little for
salvation! Oh, if there were a free market for salvation proclaimed in
that day when the trumpet of God shall awake the dead, how many buyers
would be then! God send me no more happiness than that salvation which
the blind world, to their eternal woe, letteth slip through their
fingers. Therefore, look if ye can give out your money (as Isaiah
speaketh) (lv. 2) for bread, and lay Christ and His blood in wadset
for heaven. It is a dry and hungry bairn's part of goods that Esaus
are hunting for here. I see thousands following the chase, and in the
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. And, besides, they go to bed, when they die,
without a candle; for God saith to them, "This ye shall have at My
hand, ye shall lie down in sorrow" (Isa. l. 11). And truly this is as
ill-made a bed to lie upon as one could wish; for he cannot sleep
soundly, nor rest sweetly, who hath sorrow for his pillow. Rouse,
rouse up, therefore, your soul, and speer[172] how Christ and your
soul met together. I am sure that they never got Christ, who were not
once sick at the yolk of the heart for Him. Too, too many whole souls
think that they have met with Christ, who had never a wearied night
for the want of Him: but, alas! what richer are men, that they dreamed
the last night they had much gold, and, when they awoke in the
morning, they found it was but a dream? What are all the sinners in
the world, in that day when heaven and earth shall go up in a flame of
fire, but a number of beguiled 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: ye may not, ye
cannot, ye dow not want Christ. Then after this day, convene all your
lovers before your soul, and give them their leave; 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 cometh, but Christ. Christ, Christ, who but Christ! I know this
much of Christ, that He is not ill to be found, nor lordly of His
love. Woe had been my part of it for evermore, if Christ had made a
dainty of Himself to me. But, God be thanked, I gave nothing for
Christ. And now I protest before men and angels that Christ cannot be
exchanged, that Christ cannot be sold, that Christ cannot be weighed.
Where would angels, or all the world, find a balance to weigh Him in?
All lovers blush when ye stand beside Christ! Woe upon all love but
the love of Christ! Hunger, hunger for evermore be upon all heaven but
Christ! Shame, shame for evermore be upon all glory but Christ's
glory. I cry death, death upon all lives but the life of Christ. Oh,
what is it that holdeth us asunder? O that once we could have a fair
meeting!
Thus recommending Christ to you and you to Him, for evermore, I rest.
Grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,