ABERDEEN, _June 8, 1637_.
CLXXV.--_To_ JOHN LAURIE (_probably some one at a distance, like Lady
Robertland in Stewarton_).
(_CHRIST'S LOVE--A RIGHT ESTIMATE OF HIM--HIS GRACE._)
DEAR BROTHER,--I am sorry that ye, or so many in this kingdom, should
expect so much of me, an empty reed. Verily I am a noughty[276] and
poor body; but if the tinkling of the iron chains of my Lord Jesus on
legs and arms could sound the high praises of my royal King, whose
prisoner I am, oh, how would my joy run over! If my Lord would bring
edification to one soul by my bonds, I am satisfied. But I know not
what I can do to such a princely and beautiful Well-beloved; He is far
behind with me.[277] Little thanks to me, to say to others that His
wind bloweth on me, who am but withered and dry bones; but, since ye
desire me to write to you, either help me to set Christ on high, for
His running-over love, in that the heat of His sweet breath hath
melted a frozen heart; else I think that ye do nothing for a prisoner.
[276] Worthless; good for nothing. It is, however, written "naughty,"
evil, in old editions.
[277] He has so fully paid me.
I am fully confirmed, that it is the honour of our Lawgiver which I
suffer for now. I am not ashamed to give our letters of recommendation
of Christ's love to as many as will extol the Lord Jesus and His
Cross. If I had not sailed this sea-way to heaven, but had taken the
land-way, as many do, I should not have known Christ's sweetness in
such a measure. But the truth is, let no man thank me, for I caused
not Christ's wind to blow upon me. His love came upon a withered
creature, whether I would or not; and yet by coming it procured from
me a welcome. A heart of iron, and iron doors, will not hold Christ
out. I give Him leave to break iron locks and come in, and that is
all. And now I know not whether pain of love for want of possession,
or sorrow that I dow not thank Him, paineth me the most; but both work
upon me. For the first: oh that He would come and satisfy the longing
soul, and fill the hungry soul with these good things! I know indeed
that my guiltiness may be a bar in His way; but He is God, and ready
to forgive. And for the other: woe, woe is me, that I cannot find a
heart to give back again my unworthy little love for His great
sea-full of love to me! Oh that He would learn me this piece of
gratitude! Oh that I could have leave to look in through the hole of
the door, to see His face and sing His praises! or could break up one
of His chamber-windows, to look in upon His delighting beauty, till my
Lord send more! Any little communion with Him, one of His love-looks,
should be my begun heaven. I know that He is not lordly, neither is
the Bridegroom's love proud, though I be black, and unlovely, and
unworthy of Him. I would seek but leave, and withal grace, to spend my
love upon Him. I counsel you to think highly of Christ, and of free,
free grace, more than ye did before; for I know that Christ is not
known amongst us. I think that I see more of Christ than ever I saw;
and yet I see but little of what may be seen. Oh that He would draw by
the curtains, and that the King would come out of His gallery and His
palace, that I might see Him! Christ's love is young glory and young
heaven; it would soften hell's pain to be filled with it. What would I
refuse to suffer, if I could get but a draught of love at my heart's
desire! Oh, what price can be given for Him. Angels cannot weigh Him.
Oh, His weight, His worth, His sweetness, His overpassing beauty! If
men and angels would come and look to that great and princely One,
their ebbness could never take up His depth, their narrowness could
never comprehend His breadth, height, and length. If ten thousand
thousand worlds of angels were created, they might all tire themselves
in wondering at His beauty, and begin again to wonder of new. Oh that
I could win nigh Him, to kiss His feet, to hear His voice, to feel the
smell of His ointments! But oh, alas! I have little, little of Him.
Yet I long for more.
Remember my bonds, and help me with your prayers; for I would not
niffer or exchange my sad hours with the joy of my velvet adversaries.
Grace be with you.
Yours in His sweet Lord Jesus,