CXXV.--_To the_ LADY FORRET.
[LADY FORRET was, we suppose, a "saint in Cæsar's household;" for
Lord Forret (originally Mr. David Balfour) was one of
Lauderdale's friends, appointed to watch the outed ministers in
Fife. See "Blair's Life," by Row.]
(_SICKNESS A KINDNESS--CHRIST'S GLOOMS BETTER THAN THE WORLD'S JOYS._)
WORTHY MISTRESS,--Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.--I long to hear
from you. I hear Christ hath been that kind as to visit you with
sickness, and to bring you to the door of the grave: but ye found the
door shut (blessed be His glorious name!) whill ye be riper for
eternity. He will have more service of you; and, therefore, He seeketh
of you that henceforth ye be honest to your new husband, the Son of
God. We have idol-love, and are whorishly inclined to love other
things beside our Lord; and, therefore, our Lord hunteth for our love
more ways than one or two. O that Christ had His own of us! I know He
will not want you, and that is a sweet wilfulness in His love: and ye
have as good cause, on the other part, to be headstrong and peremptory
in your love to Christ, and not to part, nor divide your love betwixt
Him and the world. If it were more, it is little enough, yea, too
little for Christ.
I am now, every way, in good terms with Christ. He hath set a banished
prisoner as a seal on His heart, and as a bracelet on His arm. That
crabbed and black tree of the cross laugheth upon me now; the alarming
noise of the cross is worse than itself. I love Christ's glooms better
than the world's worm-eaten joys. Oh, if all the kingdom were as I am,
except these bonds! My loss is gain; my sadness joyful; my bonds,
liberty; my tears comfortable. This world is not worth a drink of cold
water. Oh, but Christ's love casteth a great heat! Hell, and all the
salt sea, and the rivers of the earth, cannot quench it.
I remember you to God; ye have the prayers of a prisoner of Christ.
Grace, grace, be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,