ABERDEEN, _March 13, 1637_.
CXXXVIII.--_To_ MR. HUGH HENDERSON.
[HUGH HENDERSON was first minister of Dalry, a parish in the
district of Cunningham, Ayrshire; and afterwards of Dumfries. We
meet with his name as minister of Dalry in 1643, when he was
nominated as one of the eight ministers whom the General Assembly
appointed to visit Ireland by pairs, each pair for three months
successively, to instruct, comfort, and encourage the
Presbyterians in that country, who had been deprived of their
ministers through the tyranny of the prelates. In 1645 he was
appointed by the General Assembly chaplain to Colonel Stuart's
regiment; and in 1648 translated to Dumfries. Shortly after the
restoration of Charles II., he, and all the ministers of the
Presbytery of Dumfries, were, by the order of the King's
Commissioner, carried prisoners to Edinburgh, for refusing to
observe the 29th day of May as a religious anniversary, in
commemoration of the King's birth and restoration. But he and the
rest (with the exception of two) at last yielded so far as to
engage simply to preach on that day, knowing it would be the day
of their ordinary weekly sermon; a promise hardly compatible with
straightforwardness, being something like a disingenuous attempt
to make it appear that they were complying with the statute of
Parliament, when they were merely discharging a professional
duty. Henderson exhibited more consistency and stedfastness the
subsequent year, when he preferred being expelled from his charge
to conforming to Prelacy. He was ejected in the close of the year
1662, by the Earl of Middleton. After this, Henderson frequently
preached in his own house in Galloway.]
(_TRIALS SELECTED BY GOD--PATIENCE--LOOKING FOR THE JUDGE._)
MY REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER,--I hear that you bear the marks of
Christ's dying about with you, and that your brethren have cast you
out for your Master's sake. Let us wait on till the evening, and till
our reckoning in black and white come before our Master. Brother,
since we must have a devil to trouble us, I love a raging devil best.
Our Lord knoweth what sort of devil we have need of: it is best that
Satan be in his own skin, and look like himself. Christ weeping
looketh like Himself also, with whom Scribes and Pharisees were at yea
and nay, and sharp contradiction.
Ye have heard of the patience of Job. When he lay in the ashes, God
was with him, clawing and curing his scabs, and letting out his boils,
comforting his soul; and He took him up at last. That God is not dead
yet; He will stoop and take up fallen bairns. Many broken legs since
Adam's days hath He spelked, and many weary hearts hath He refreshed.
Bless Him for comfort. Why? None cometh dry from David's well. Let us
go among the rest, and cast down our toom buckets into Christ's ocean,
and suck consolations out of Him. We are not so sore stricken, but we
may fill Christ's hall with weeping. We have not gotten our answer
from Him yet. Let us lay up our broken pleas to a full sea, and keep
them till the day of Christ's Coming. We and this world will not be
even till then: they would take our garment from us; but let _us_ hold
and _them_ draw.
Brother, it is a strange world if we laugh not. I never saw the like
of it, if there be not "paiks the man," for this contempt done to the
Son of God. We must do as those who keep the bloody napkin to the
Bailie, and let him see blood; we must keep our wrongs to our Judge,
and let Him see our bluddered and foul faces. Prisoners of hope must
run to Christ, with the gutters that tears have made on their cheeks.
Brother, for myself, I am Christ's dawted one for the present; and I
live upon no deaf nuts, as we use to speak. He hath opened fountains
to me in the wilderness. Go, look to my Lord Jesus: His love to me is
such, that I defy the world to find either brim or bottom to it. Grace
be with you.
Your brother, in his sweet Lord Jesus,