ABERDEEN, _March 14, 1637_.
CLVII.--_To_ CARLETON.
[Livingstone, in his Characteristics, mentions two persons of this
name: "Fullerton of Carleton, in Galloway, a grave and cheerful
Christian;" and "Cathcart of Carleton, in Carrick, an old, experienced
Christian," in much repute among the religious of his day, for his
skill in solving cases of conscience, and dealing with persons under
spiritual affliction. But it seems clear that Rutherford's
correspondent was _John Fullerton of Carleton_, in the parish of
Borgue. For, in Letter XV. he is spoken of as in Galloway. In the
"Minutes of Comm. of Covenanters," we find the following estates put
side by side, all of them a few miles from Anwoth, viz. "_Roberton_
and _Carleton_, Caillie and Rusco, Carsluth and Cassincarrie." His
lady's name appears prefixed to Letter CCLVI.
This, too, was the Carleton that wrote the Acrostic on Marion M'Naught
(see note on Letter V.). He was the author of a poem--"The Turtle
Dove, under the absence and presence of her only _Choice_.
1664,"--dedicated by the author to Lady Jane Campbell, Viscountess
Kenmure, with whom he was connected. He also wrote "A Manifesto of the
Kingdom of Scotland in favour of the League and Covenant," in verse.
(See "Minutes of Comm. of Covenanters.")]
(_INCREASING SENSE OF CHRIST'S LOVE--RESIGNATION--DEADNESS TO
EARTH--TEMPTATIONS--INFIRMITIES._)
MUCH HONOURED SIR,--I will not impute your not writing to me to
forgetfulness. However, I have One above who forgetteth me not--nay,
He groweth in His kindness. It hath pleased His holy Majesty to take
me from the pulpit, and teach me many things, in my exile and prison,
that were mysteries to me before.
I see His bottomless and boundless love and kindness, and my
jealousies and ravings, which, at my first entry into this furnace,
were so foolish and bold, as to say to Christ, who is truth itself, in
His face, "Thou liest." I had well nigh lost my grips. I wondered if
it was Christ or not; for the mist and smoke of my perturbed heart
made me mistake my Master, Jesus. My faith was dim, and hope frozen
and cold; and my love, which caused jealousies, had some warmness, and
heat, and smoke, but no flame at all. Yet I was looking for some good
of Christ's old claim to me, though[238] I had forfeited all my
rights. But the tempter was too much upon my counsels, and was still
blowing the coal. Alas! I knew not well before how good skill my
Intercessor and Advocate, Christ, hath of pleading, and of pardoning
me such follies. Now He is returned to my soul with healing under His
wings; and I am nothing behind with Christ[239] now; for He hath
overpaid me, by His presence, the pain I was put to by on-waiting, and
any little loss that I sustained by my witnessing against the wrongs
done to Him. I trow it was a pain to my Lord to hide Himself any
longer. In a manner, He was challenging His own unkindness, and
repented Him of His glooms. And now, what want I on earth that Christ
can give to a poor prisoner? Oh, how sweet and lovely is He now! Alas!
that I can get none to help me to lift up my Lord Jesus upon His
throne, above all the earth.
[238] "I thought" is the old reading, but it has no meaning.
[239] Christ has paid me all my claim.
_2ndly_, I am now brought to some measure of submission, and I resolve
to wait till I see what my Lord Jesus will do with me. I dare not now
nickname, or speak one word against, the all-seeing and over-watching
providence of my Lord. I see that providence runneth not on broken
wheels. But I, like a fool, carved a providence for my own ease, to
die in my nest, and to sleep still till my grey hairs, and to lie on
the sunny side of the mountain, in my ministry at Anwoth. But now I
have nothing to say against a borrowed fireside, and another man's
house, nor Kedar's tents, where I live, being removed far from my
acquaintance, my lovers, and my friends. I see that God hath the world
on His wheels, and casteth it as a potter doth a vessel on the wheel.
I dare not say that there is any inordinate or irregular motion in
providence. The Lord hath done it. I will not go to law with Christ,
for I would gain nothing of that.
_3rdly_, I have learned some greater mortification; and not to mourn
after, or seek to suck, the world's dry breasts. Nay, my Lord hath
filled me with such dainties, that I am like to a full banqueter, who
is not for common cheer. What have I to do to fall down upon my knees,
and worship mankind's great idol, the world? I have a better God than
any claygod: nay, at present, as I am now disposed, I care not much to
give this world a discharge of my life-rent of it, for bread and
water. I know that it is not my home, nor my Father's house; it is but
His foot-stool, the outer close of His house, His out-fields and
muir-ground. Let bastards take it. I hope never to think myself in
its common, for honour or riches. Nay, now I say to laughter, "Thou
art madness."
_4thly_, I find it to be most true, that the greatest temptation out
of hell is to live without temptations. If my waters should stand,
they would rot. Faith is the better of the free air, and of the sharp
winter storm in its face. Grace withereth without adversity. The devil
is but God's master fencer, to teach us to handle our weapons.
_5thly_, I never knew how weak I was, till now when He hideth Himself,
and when I have Him to seek, seven times a day. I am a dry and
withered branch, and a piece of dead carcass, dry bones, and not able
to step over a straw. The thoughts of my old sins are as the summons
of death to me, and my late brother's case hath stricken me to the
heart. When my wounds are closing, a little ruffle[240] causeth them
to bleed afresh; so thin-skinned is my soul, that I think it is like a
tender man's skin that may touch nothing. Ye see how short I would
shoot of the prize, if His grace were not sufficient for me.
[240] It is written "rifle" in old editions.
Wo is me for the day of Scotland! Wo, wo is me for my harlot-mother;
for the decree is gone forth! Women of this land shall call the
childless and miscarrying wombs blessed. The anger of the Lord is gone
forth, and shall not return, till He perform the purpose of His heart
against Scotland. Yet He shall make Scotland a new, sharp instrument,
having teeth to thresh the mountains, and fan the hills as chaff.
The prisoner's blessing be upon you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,