LONDON, _Feb. 24, 1646_.
CCCXXII.--_To_ M. O.
[Perhaps, as Letter CXLIX., some one of Provost Osburn's family
in Ireland.]
(_GLOOMY PROSPECTS FOR THE BACKSLIDING CHURCH--THE MISUNDERSTANDINGS
OF BELIEVERS CAUSE OF GREAT GRIEF--THE DAY OF CHRIST._)
SIR,--I can write nothing for the present concerning these times
(whatever others may think), but that which speaketh wrath and
judgment to these kingdoms. If ever ye, or any of that land, received
the Gospel in truth (as I am confident ye and they did), there is here
a great departure from that faith, and our sufferings are not yet at
an end. However, I dare testify and die for it, that once Christ was
revealed in the power of His excellency and glory to the saints there,
and in Scotland, of which I was a witness. I pray God that none
deceive you, or take the crown from you. Hell, or the gates of hell,
cannot ravel, mar, nor undo what Christ hath once done amongst you. It
may be that I am incapable of new light, and cannot receive that
spirit whereof some vainly boast; but that "which was from the
beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes,
which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled" (1 John i. 1),
even "the word of life," hath been declared to you. Thousands of
thousands, walking in that light and that good old way, have gone to
heaven, and are now before the throne. Truth is but one, and hath no
numbers. Christ and Antichrist are both now in the camp, and are come
to open blows. Christ's poor ship saileth in the sea of blood; the
passengers are so sea-sick of a high fever, that they miscall one
another. Christ, I hope, will bring the broken bark to land. I had
rather swim for life and death on an old plank, or a broken board, to
land with Christ, than enjoy the rotten peace we have hitherto had. It
is like that the Lord will take a severe course with us, to cause the
children of the family to agree together. I conceive that Christ hath
a great design of free grace to these lands; but His wheels must move
over mountains and rocks. He never yet wooed a bride on earth, but in
blood, in fire, and in the wilderness. A cross of our own choosing,
honeyed and sugared with consolations, we cannot have. I think not
much of a cross when all the children of the house weep with me and
for me; and to suffer when we enjoy the communion of the saints is not
much; but it is hard when saints rejoice in the suffering of saints,
and redeemed ones hurt (yea, even go nigh to hate) redeemed ones.
I confess I imagined there had no more been such an affliction on
earth, or in the world, as that one elect angel should fight against
another; but, for contempt of the communion of saints, we have need of
new-born crosses, scarce ever heard of before. The saints are not
Christ: there is no misjudging in Him; there is much in us; and a
doubt it is, if we shall have fully one heart till we shall enjoy one
heaven. Our star-light hideth us from ourselves, and hideth us from
one another, and Christ from us all. But He will not be hidden from
us. I shall wish that all the sons of our Father in that land were of
one mind, and that they be not shaken nor moved from the truth once
received. Christ was in that Gospel, and Christ is the same now that
He was in The Prelates' time. That Gospel cannot sink; it will make
you free, and bear you out. Christ, the subject of it, is the chosen
of God; and cometh from Bozrah, with garments dyed in blood. Ireland
and Scotland both must be His field, in which He shall feed and gather
lilies. Suppose (which yet is impossible) that some had an eternity of
Christ in Ireland, and a sweet summer of the Gospel, and a feast of
fat things for evermore in Ireland, and that one should never come to
heaven, it should be a desirable life! The King's spikenard, Christ's
perfume, His apples of love, His ointments, even down in this lower
house of clay, are a choice heaven. Oh! what then is the King in His
own land, where there is such a throne, so many King's palaces, ten
thousand thousands of crowns of glory that want heads yet to fill
them? Oh, so much leisure as shall be there to sing! Oh, such a tree
as groweth there in the midst of that Paradise, where the inhabitants
sing eternally under its branches! To look in at a window, and see the
branches burdened with the apples of life, to be the last man that
shall come in thither, were too much for me.
I pray you to remember me to the Christians there; and remember our
private covenant. Grace be with you.
Your friend in the Lord Jesus,