CCLXXVII.--_To my_ LADY BOYD.
(_SENSE OF UNWORTHINESS--OBLIGATION TO GRACE--CHRIST'S ABSENCE--STATE
OF THE LAND._)
MADAM,--I would have written to your Ladyship ere now, but people's
believing there is in me that which I know there is not, hath put me
out of love with writing to any. For it is easy to put religion to a
market and public fair; but, alas! it is not so soon made eye-sweet
for Christ.
My Lord seeth me a tired man, far behind. I have gotten much love from
Christ, but I give Him little or none again. My white side cometh out
on paper to men; but at home and within I find much black work, and
great cause of a low sail, and of little boasting. And yet, howbeit I
see challenges to be true, the manner of the tempter's pressing of
them is unhonest, and, in my thoughts, knavish-like. My peace is, that
Christ may find outing and sale of His wares, in the like of me; I
mean for saving grace.
I wish all professors to fall in love with grace. All our songs should
be of His free grace. We are but too lazy and careless in seeking of
it; it is all our riches we have here, and glory in the bud. I wish
that I could set out free grace. I was the law's man, and under the
law, and under a curse; but grace brought me from under that hard
lord, and I rejoice that I am grace's freeholder. I pay tribute to
none for heaven, seeing my land and heritage holdeth of Christ, my new
King. Infinite wisdom hath devised this excellent way of free-holding
for sinners. It is a better way to heaven than the old way that was in
Adam's days. It hath this fair advantage, that no man's emptiness and
want layeth an inhibition upon Christ, or hindereth His salvation; and
that is far best for me. But our new Landlord putteth the names of
dyvours, and Adam's forlorn heirs, and beggars, and the crooked and
blind, in the free charters. Heaven and angels may wonder that we have
got such a gate of sin and hell. Such a back-entry out of hell as
Christ made, and brought out the captives by, is more than my poor
shallow thoughts can comprehend. I would think sufferings glory (and I
am sometimes not far from it), if my Lord would give me a new alms of
free grace.
I hear that the prelates are intending banishment for me; but, for
more grace, and no other hire, I would make it welcome. The bits of
this clay house, the earth, and the other side of the sea, are my
Father's. If my sweet Lord Jesus would bud my sufferings with a new
measure of grace, I were a rich man. But I have not now, of a long
time, found such high spring-tides as formerly. The sea is out, the
wind of His Spirit calm; and I cannot buy a wind, or, by requesting
the sea, cause it to flow again; only I wait on upon the banks and
shore-side, till the Lord send a full sea, that with upsails I may
lift up Christ. Yet sorrow for His absence is sweet; and sighs, with
"Saw ye Him whom my soul loveth?" have their own delights. Oh that I
may gather hunger against His long-looked-for return! Well were my
soul, if Christ were the element (mine own element), and that I loved
and breathed in Him, and if I could not live without Him. I allow not
laughter upon myself when He is away; yet He never leaveth the house,
but He leaveth drink-money behind Him, and a pawn that He will return.
Wo, wo to me, if He should go away and take all His flitting with Him!
Even to dream of Him is sweet. To build a house of pining wishes for
His return, to spin out a web of sorrow, and care, and languishing,
and sighs, either dry or wet, as they may be (because He hath no
leisure, if I may speak so, to make a visit, or to see a poor friend),
sweeteneth and refresheth the thoughts of the heart. A misty dew will
stand for rain, and do some good, and keep some greenness in the
herbs, till our Lord's clouds rue upon the earth, and send down a
watering of rain. Truly I think Christ's misty dew a welcome message
from heaven till my Lord's rain fall.
Wo, wo is me for the Lord's vineyard in Scotland! Howbeit the Father
of the house embrace a child, and feed him, and kiss him; yet it is
sorrow and sadness to the children that our poor mother hath gotten
her leave, and that our Father hath given up house. It is an
unheartsome thing to see our Father and mother agree so ill; yet the
bastards, if they be fed, care not, O Lord, cast not water on
Scotland's smoking coal. It is a strange gate the saints go to heaven.
Our enemies often eat and drink us, and we go to heaven through their
bellies and stomachs, and they vomit the church of God undigested
among their hands. And even while we are shut up in prisons by them,
we advance in our journey.
Remember my service to my lord your son, who was kind to me in my
bonds, and was not ashamed to own me. I would be glad that Christ got
the morning service of his life, now in his young years. It would
suit him well to give Christ his young and green love. Christ's stamp
and seal would go far down in a young soul, if he would receive the
thrust of Christ's stamp. I would desire him to make search for
Christ; for nobles are now but dry friends to Christ.
The grace of God our Father, and the good-will of Him who dwelt in the
bush, be with your Ladyship.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,