CXIX.--_To_ MR. DAVID DICKSON.
(_JOYFUL EXPERIENCE--CUP OVERFLOWING IN EXILE._)
REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,--Grace, mercy, and peace be unto you.--I
find that great men, especially old friends, scaur to speak for me.
But my kingly and royal Master biddeth me to try His moyen to the
uttermost, and I shall find a friend at hand. I still depend upon
Him; His court is still as before; the prisoner is welcome to Him. The
black, crabbed tree of my Lord's cross hath made Christ and my soul
very entire. He is my song in the night. I am often laid in the dust
with challenges, and apprehensions of His anger; and then, if a
mountain of iron were laid upon me, I cannot be heavier; and with much
wrestling I win into the King's house of wine. And yet, for the most
part, my life is joy; and such joy through His comforts, as I have
been afraid lest I should shame myself and cry out, for I can scarce
bear what I get. Christ giveth me a measure heaped up, pressed down,
and running over; and, believe it, His love paineth more than prison
and banishment. I cannot get the way of Christ's love. Had I known
what He was keeping for me, I should never have been so faint-hearted.
In my heaviest times, when all is lost, the memory of His love maketh
me think Christ's glooms are but for the fashion.[216] I seek no more
than a vent to my wine;[217] I am smothered and ready to burst for
want of vent. Think not much of persecution. It is before you; but it
is not as men conceive of it. My sugared cross forceth me to say this
to you, ye shall have waled meat. The sick bairn is ofttime the
spilled bairn; he shall command all the house. I hope that ye help a
tired prisoner to praise and pray. Had I but the annual of annual[218]
to give to my Lord Jesus, it would ease my pain. But, alas! I have
nothing to pay, He will get nothing of poor me; but I am wo that I
have not room enough in my heart for such a stranger. I am not cast
down to go farther north. I have good cause to work for my Master, for
I am well paid beforehand; I am not behind, howbeit I should not get
one smile more till my feet be up within the King's dining-hall.
[216] Frowns for form's sake.
[217] Alluding to Job xxxii. 19.
[218] The smallest return, the quit-rent of a quit-rent.
I have gone through yours upon the Covenant;[219] it hath edified my
soul, and refreshed a hungry man. I judge it sharp, sweet, quick, and
profound. Take me at my word, I fear that it get no lodging in
Scotland.
[219] "_Therapeutica Sacra_; seu de curandis casibus conscientiæ circa
regenerationem per Fœderum Divinorum applicationem," is the title
of the book.
The brethren of Ireland write not to me; chide with them for that. I
am sure that I may give you and them a commission (and I will abide by
it), that you tell my Beloved that I am sick of love. I hope in God to
leave some of my rust and superfluities in Aberdeen. I cannot get a
house in this town wherein to leave drink-silver in my Master's name,
save one only. There is no sale for Christ in the north; He is like to
lie long on my hand, ere any accept Him. Grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,