ABERDEEN, _July 7, 1637_.
CCXV.--_To_ MISTRESS STUART.
[MRS. STUART is the wife of Provost Stuart of Ayr, of whom see an
account, Letter CLXI.]
(_PERSONAL UNWORTHINESS--LONGING AFTER HOLINESS--WINNOWING TIME._)
MISTRESS,--Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.--I am sorry that ye take
it so hardly that I have not written to you.
I am judged to be that which I am not. I fear that if I were put into
the fire, I should melt away, and fall down in shreds of painted
nature; for truly I have little stuff at home that is worth the eye of
God's servants. If there be anything of Christ's in me (as I dare not
deny some of His work), it is but a spunk of borrowed fire, that can
scarce warm myself, and hath little heat for standers-by. I would fain
have that which ye and others believe I have; but ye are only
witnesses to my outer side, and to some words on paper. Oh that He
would give me more than _paper-grace_ or _tongue-grace_! Were it not
that want paineth me, I should have a skailed house, and gone
a-begging long since. But Christ hath left me with some hunger, that
is more hot than wise, and is ready often to say, "If Christ longed
for me as I do for Him, we should not be long in meeting; and if He
loved my company as well as I do His, even while I am writing this
letter to you, we should fly into each other's arms." But I know there
is more will than wit in this languor and pining love for Christ; and
no marvel, for Christ's love would have hot harvest[330] long ere
midsummer. But if I have any love to Him, Christ hath both love to me,
and wit to guide His love. And I see that the best thing I have hath
as much dross beside it as might curse me and it both; and, if it were
for no more, we have need of a Saviour to pardon the very faults, and
diseases, and weakness of the new man, and to take away (to say so)
our godly sins, or the sins of our sanctification, and the dross and
scum of spiritual love. Wo, wo is me! Oh, what need is there, then, of
Christ's calling, to scour, and cleanse, and wash away an ugly old
body of sin, the very image of Satan! I know nothing surer than that
there is an office for Christ amongst us. I wish for no other heaven
on this side of the last sea that I must cross, than this service of
Christ, to make my blackness beauty, my deadness life, my guiltiness
sanctification. I long much for that day, when I shall be holy. Oh,
what spots are yet unwashen! Oh that I could change the skin of the
leopard and the Moor, and niffer it with some of Christ's fairness!
Were my blackness and Christ's beauty carded through-other (as we use
to speak), His beauty and holiness would eat up my filthiness. But,
oh, I have not casten old Adam's hue and colour yet. I trow that the
best of us hath a smell yet of the old loathsome body of sin and
guiltiness. Happy are they for evermore who can employ Christ, and set
His blood and death on work, to make clean work to God of foul souls.
I know that it is our sin that we would have sanctification on the
sunny side of the hill, and holiness with nothing but summer, and no
crosses at all. Sin hath made us as tender as if we were made of paper
or glass. I am often thinking, what would I think of Christ and
burning quick together! of Christ and torturing, and hot melted lead
poured in at mouth and navel! Yet I have some weak experience (but
very weak indeed), that suppose Christ and hell's torments were
married together, and if there were no finding of Christ at all except
I went to hell's furnace, that there, and in no other place, I could
meet with Him, I trow, that (if I were as I have been since I was His
prisoner) I would beg lodging for God's sake in hell's hottest
furnace, that I might rub souls with Christ. But God be thanked, I
shall find Him in a better lodging. We get Christ better-cheap than
so: when He is rouped to us, we get Him but with a shower of summer
troubles in this life, as sweet and soft to believers as a May-dew.
[330] Christ's love in the soul would fain cause it to desire harvest.
I would have you and myself helping Christ mystical to weep for His
wife. And oh that we could mourn for Christ buried in Scotland, and
for His two slain witnesses, killed because they prophesied! If we
could so importune and solicit God, our buried Lord and His two buried
witnesses should rise again. Earth, and clay, and stone, will not bear
down Christ and the Gospel in Scotland. I know not if I shall see the
second temple, and the glory of it; but the Lord hath deceived me if
it be not to be reared up again. I would wish to give Christ His
welcome home again. My blessing, my joy, my glory, and love be on the
Home-comer.
I find no better use of suffering than that Christ's winnowing putteth
chaff and corn in the saints to sundry places, and discovereth our
dross from His gold, so as corruption and grace are so seen, that
Christ saith in the furnace, "That is Mine, and this is thine. The
scum and the grounds, thy stomach against the persecutors, thy
impatience, thy unbelief, thy quarrelling, these are thine; and faith,
on-waiting, love, joy, courage, are Mine." Oh, let me die one of
Christ's on-waiters, and one of His attendants!
I know that your heart and Christ are married together; it were not
good to make a divorce. Rue not of that meeting and marriage with such
a Husband. Pray for me, His prisoner. Grace, grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,