(_THE LAW--THIS WORLD UNDER CHRIST'S CONTROL FOR THE BELIEVER._)
MY VERY DEAR BROTHER,--Ye know that men may take their sweet fill of
the sour Law, in Grace's ground, and betwixt the Mediator's breasts.
And this is the sinner's safest way; for there is a bed for wearied
sinners to rest them in, in the New Covenant, though no bed of
Christ's making to sleep in. The Law shall never be my doomster, by
Christ's grace. If I get no more good of it (I shall find a sore
enough doom in the Gospel to humble, and to cast me down), it is, I
grant, a good rough friend to follow a traitor to the bar, and to back
him till he come to Christ. We may blame ourselves, who cause the Law
to crave well-paid debt, to scare us away from Jesus, and dispute
about a righteousness of our own, a world in the moon, a chimera, and
a night-dream that pride is father and mother to. There cannot be a
more humble soul than a believer; it is no pride for a drowning man to
catch hold of a rock.
I rejoice that the wheels of this confused world are rolled, and
cogged, and driven according as our Lord willeth. Out of whatever
airth the wind blow, it will blow us on our Lord. No wind can blow our
sails overboard; because Christ's skill, and honour of His wisdom, are
empawned and laid down at the stake for the sea-passengers, that He
shall put them safe off His hand on the shore, in His Father's known
bounds, our native home ground.
My dear brother, scaur not at the cross of Christ. It is not seen yet
what Christ will do for you, when it cometh to the worst: He will keep
His grace till ye be at a strait, and then bring forth the decreed
birth for your salvation (Zeph. ii. 2). Ye are an arrow of His own
making; let Him shoot you against a wall of brass, your point shall
keep whole. I cannot, for multitude of letters and distraction of
friends, prepare what I would for the times: I have not one hour of
spare time, suppose the day were forty hours long.
Remember me in prayer. Grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,