271. CCLXXII.—To JOHN GORDON [Letter CXLVII.]

CCLXXII.—To JOHN GORDON [Letter CXLVII.] (CHRIST ALL WORTHLY—THIS WORLD A CLAY PRISON—DESIRE FOR A REVIVAL OF CHRIST’S CAUSE.)

WORTHY AND DEAR BROTHER,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I have been too long in writing to you, but multitude of letters taketh much time from me.

I bless His great name whom I serve in the spirit, that if it come to voting, amongst angels and men, how excellent and sweet Christ is, even in His reproaches and in His cross, I cannot but vote with the first that all that is in Him, both cross and crown, kisses and glooms, embracements, and frownings, and strokes, is sweet and glorious. God send me no more happiness in heaven, or out of heaven, than Christ! for I find this world, when I have looked upon it on both sides, within and without, and when I have seen even the laughing and lovely side of it, to be but a fool’s idol, a clay prison. Lord, let it not be the nest that my hope buildeth in. I have now cause to judge my part of this earth not worth a blast of smoke, or a mouthful of brown bread. I wish that my hope may take a running-leap, and skip over time’s pleasure, sin’s plastering and gold-foil, this vain earth, and rest upon my Lord. Oh, how great is our night-darkness in this wilderness! To have any conceit at all of this world is, as if a man should close his handful of water, and, holding his hand in the river, to say that all the water of the flood is his; as if it were, indeed, all within the compass of his hand. Who would not laugh at the thoughts of such a crack-brain? Verily, they have but an handful of water, and are but like a child clasping his two hands about a night-shadow, who idolize any created hope, but God. I now lightly, and put the price of a dream, or fable, or black nothing, upon all things but God, and that desirable and love-worthy One, my Lord Jesus. Let all the world be nothing (for nothing was their seed and mother), and let God be all things. My very dear brother, know that ye are as near heaven as ye are far from yourself, and far from the love of a bewitching and whorish world. For this world, in its gain and glory, is but the great and notable common whore, that all the sons of men have been in fancy and lust withal these 5000 years. The children that they have begotten with this uncouth and lustful lover are but vanity, dreams, gold imaginations, and night-thoughts. There is no good ground here, under the covering of heaven, for men and poor wearied souls to set down their foot upon. Oh, He who is called God, that One whom they term Jesus Christ, is worth the having indeed, even if I had given away all without, my eye-holes, my soul, and myself, for sweet Jesus my Lord! Oh, let the claim be cancelled that the creatures have to me,—except that claim my Lord Jesus hath to me! Oh that He would claim poor me, my silly, light, and worthless soul! Oh that He would pursue His claim to the utmost point, and not want me! for it is my pain and remediless sorrow to want Him. I see nothing in this life but sinks, and mires, and dreams, and beguiling ditches, and ill ground for us to build upon.

I am fully persuaded of Christ’s victory in Scotland; but I fear that this land be not yet ripe and white (John 4:35) for mercy. Yet I dare be halver (upon my salvation) with the losses of the Church of Scotland, that her foes, after noon, shall sing dool and sorrow for evermore, and that her joy shall once again be cried up, and her sky shall clear. But vengeance and burning shall be to her adversaries, and the sinners of this land. Oh that we could be awakened to prayers and humiliation! Then should our sun shine like seven suns in the heaven! then should the temple of Christ be builded upon the mountain-tops, and the land, from coast to coast, should be filled with the glory of the Lord.

Brother, your day-task is wearing short; your hour-glass of this span-length and hand-breadth of life will quickly pass; and, therefore, take order and course with matters betwixt you and Christ, before it come to open pleading. There are no quarters to be had of Christ, in open judgment. I know, that ye see your thread wearing short, and that there are not many inches to the thread’s end; and, therefore, lose not time.

Remember me, His prisoner, that it would please the Lord to bring me again amongst you with abundance of the Gospel.

Grace, grace be with you.

Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,

S. R.

ABERDEEN, 1637.