CXX.--_To_ MR. MATTHEW MOWAT.
[MATTHEW MOWAT, son to the Laird of Busbie (Letter CXXXIII.), was
minister of Kilmarnock. He was one of the seven leading ministers
in the west whom the Parliament, after the restoration of Charles
II., brought before them with the view of extorting their
acquiescence in the establishment of Prelacy; which, if effected,
it was apprehended would have an influence in leading others to
comply. They were all put in prison, and refusing (though several
times brought before the Parliament), to take the oath of
allegiance without explanation, inasmuch as it involved the oath
of supremacy, they were more severely treated. Livingstone
describes Mowat as "one of a meek, sweet disposition, straight
and zealous for the truth." Rutherford, who highly valued him,
says in one of his letters, "I cannot speak to a man so sick of
love to Christ as Mr. Matthew Mowat;" and in another, "I am
greatly in love with Mr. Matthew Mowat, for I see him really
stampt with the image of God." The time of his death is unknown.
Some additional notices of him are to be found in Wodrow's
"Analecta," vol. iii.]
(_PLENITUDE OF CHRIST'S LOVE--NEED TO USE GRACE ARIGHT--CHRIST THE
RANSOMER--DESIRE TO PROCLAIM HIS GOSPEL--SHORTCOMINGS AND
SUFFERINGS_.)
REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,--I am a very far mistaken man. If others
knew how poor my stock was, they would not think upon the like of me,
but with compassion. For I am as one kept under a strict tutor; I
would have more than my tutor alloweth me. But it is good that a
bairn's wit is not the rule which regulateth my Lord Jesus. Let Him
give what He will, it shall aye be above merit, and my ability to gain
therewith. I would not wish a better stock, whill heaven be my stock,
than to live upon credit at Christ's hands, daily borrowing. Surely,
running-over love (that vast, huge, boundless love of Christ that
there is telling[220] in for man and angels!) is the only thing I most
fain would be in hands with. He knoweth that I have little but the
love of that love; and that I shall be happy, suppose I never get
another heaven but only an eternal, lasting feast of that love. But
suppose my wishes were poor, He is not poor: Christ, all the seasons
of the year, is dropping sweetness. If I had vessels, I might fill
them; but my old, riven, and running-out dish, even when I am at the
Well, can bring little away. Nothing but glory will make tight and
fast our leaking and rifty vessels. Alas! I have skailed more of
Christ's grace, love, faith, humility, and godly sorrow, than I have
brought with me. How little of the sea can a child carry in his hand!
As little dow I take away of my great Sea, my boundless and
running-over Christ Jesus.
[220] Which will try the skill of men and angels to estimate.
I have not lighted upon the right gate of putting Christ to the bank,
and making myself rich with Him. My misguiding and childish
trafficking with that matchless Pearl, that heaven's Jewel, the Jewel
of the Father's delights, hath put me to a great loss. O that He would
take a loan of me, and my stock, and put His name in all my bonds, and
serve Himself heir to the poor, mean portion which I have, and be
accountable for the talent Himself! Gladly would I put Christ into my
room to guide all; and let me be but a servant to run errands, and act
by His direction. Let me be His interdicted heir. Lord Jesus, work
upon my minority, and let Him win a pupil's blessing! Oh, how would I
rejoice to have this work of my salvation legally fastened upon
Christ! A back-bond of my Lord Jesus that it should be forthcoming to
the orphan, would be my happiness. Dependency on Christ were my surest
way; if Christ were my foundation, I were sure enough. I thought the
guiding of grace had been no art;[221] I thought it would come of
will; but I would spill my own heaven yet, if I had not burdened
Christ with all. I but lend my bare name to the sweet covenant;
Christ, behind and before, and on either side, maketh all sure. God
will not take an Arminian cautioner. Freewill is a weather-cock,
turning at a serpent's tongue, a tutor that cowped our Father Adam,
unto us; and brought down the house, and sold the land, and sent the
father, and mother, and all the bairns through the earth to beg their
bread. Nature in the Gospel hath but a cracked credit. Oh, well to my
poor soul for evermore, that my Lord called grace to the council, and
put Christ Jesus, with free merits and the blood of God, foremost in
the chase to draw sinners after a Ransomer! Oh, what a sweet block was
it by way of buying and selling, to give and tell down a ransom for
grace and glory to dyvours! Oh, would to my Lord that I could cause
paper and ink to speak the worth and excellency, the high and loud
praises of a Brother-ransomer! The Ransomer needeth not my report,
but, oh, if He would take it, and make use of it! I should be happy if
I had an errand to this world, but for some few years, to spread
proclamations, and outcries, and love-letters of the highness, the
highness for evermore, the glory, the glory for evermore, of the
Ransomer, whose clothes were wet and dyed in blood! albeit, after I
had done that, my soul and body should go back to their mother
_Nothing_ that their Creator brought them once out from, as from their
beginning. But why should I pine away, and pain myself with wishes?
and not believe, rather, that Christ will hire such an outcast as I
am, a masterless body, put out of the house by the sons of my mother,
and give me employment and a calling, one way or other, to set out
Christ and His wares to country buyers, and propose Christ unto, and
press Him upon some poor souls, that fainer than their life would
receive Him?
[221] Required no skill, but would come as I chose.
You complain heavily of "your shortcoming in practice, and venturing
on suffering for Christ." You have many marrows. For the first, I
would put you off a sense of wretchedness. Hold on! Christ never yet
slew a sighing, groaning child: more of that would make you won goods,
and a meet prey for Christ. Alas! I have too little of it, for
venturing on suffering. I had not so much free gear when I came to
Christ's camp as to buy a sword. I wonder[222] that Christ should not
laugh at such a soldier. I am no better yet; but faith liveth and
spendeth upon our Captain's charges, who is able to pay for all. We
need not pity Him, He is rich enough.
[222] In most editions, it is "_a_ wonder," as if in way of
exclamation.
Ye desire me also "Not to mistake Christ under a mask." I bless you,
and thank God for it. But alas! masked or bare-faced, kissing or
glooming, I mistake Him: yea, I mistake Him the farthest when the mask
is off; for then I play me with His sweetness. I am like a child that
hath a gilded book, that playeth with the ribbons and the gilding, and
the picture on the first page, but readeth not the contents of it.
Certainly, if my desires to my Well-beloved were fulfilled, I could
provoke devils, and crosses, and the world, and temptations to the
field; but oh! my poor weakness maketh me lie behind the bush and hide
me.
Remember my service and my blessing to my Lord. I am mindful of him as
I am able. Desire him from a prisoner, to come and visit my good
Master, and feel but the smell of His love. It setteth him well,
howbeit he be young, to make Christ his garland. I could not wish him
in a better case, than in a fever of love-sickness for Christ.
Remember my bonds. The Lord Jesus be with your spirit.
Yours in his sweet Lord Jesus,