W ORTHY SIR,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I have been too long, I confess, in writing to you. My suit now to you, in paper, since I have no access to speak to you as formerly, is, that ye would lay the foundation sure in your youth. When ye begin to seek Christ, try, I pray you, upon what terms ye covenant to follow Him, and lay your account what it may cost you; that neither summer nor winter, nor well nor woe, may cause you change your Master, Christ. Keep fair to Him, and be honest and faithful, that He find not a crack in you. Surely ye are now in the throng of temptations. When youth is come to its fairest bloom, then the devil, and the lusts of a deceiving world, and sin, are upon horseback, and follow with upsails. If this were not so, Paul needeth not to have written to a sanctified and holy youth, Timothy (a faithful preacher of the Gospel), to flee the lusts of youth. Give Christ your virgin love; you cannot put your love and heart into a better hand. Oh! if ye knew Him, and saw His beauty, your love, your liking, your heart, your desires, would close with Him, and cleave to Him. Love, by nature, when it seeth, cannot but cast out its spirit and strength upon amiable objects, and good things, and things love-worthy; and what fairer thing than Christ? O fair sun, and fair moon, and fair stars, and fair flowers, and fair roses, and fair lilies, and fair creatures; but O ten thousand thousand times fairer Lord Jesus! Alas, I wronged Him in making the comparison this way! O black sun and moon, but O fair Lord Jesus! O black flowers, and black lilies and roses, but O fair, fair, ever fair Lord Jesus! O all fair things black and deformed, without beauty, when ye are beside that fairest Lord Jesus! O black heaven, but O fair Christ! O black angels, but surpassingly fair Lord Jesus! I would seek no more to make me happy for evermore, but a thorough and clear sight of the beauty of Jesus, my Lord. Let my eyes enjoy His fairness, and stare Him for ever in the face, and I have all that can be wished. Get Christ rather than gold or silver; seek Christ, howbeit ye should lose all things for Him.
They take their marks by the moon,[315] and look asquint, in looking to fair Christ, who resolve for the world and their ease, and for their honour, and court, and credit, or for fear of losses and a sore skin, to turn their backs upon Christ and His truth. Alas, how many blind eyes and squint lookers look this day in Scotland upon Christ's beauty, and they see a spot in Christ's fair face! Alas, they are not worthy of Christ who look this way upon Him, and see no beauty in Him why they should desire Him! God send me my fill of His beauty, if it be possible that my soul can be full of His beauty here. But much of Christ's beauty needeth not abate the eager appetite of a soul (sick of love for Himself) to see Him in the other world, where He is seen as He is.
I am glad, with all my heart, that ye have given your greenest morning-age to this Lord Jesus. Hold on, and weary not; faint not. Resolve upon suffering for Christ; but fear not ten days' tribulation, for Christ's sour cross is sugared with comforts, and hath a taste of Christ Himself. I esteem it to be my glory, my joy, and my crown, and I bless Him for this honour, to be yoked with Christ, and married to Him in suffering, who therefore was born, and therefore came into the world, that He might bear witness to the truth. Take pains, above all things, for salvation; for without running, fighting, sweating, wrestling, heaven is not taken. Oh, happy soul, that crosseth nature's stomach, and delighteth to gain that fair garland and crown of glory! What a feckless loss is it for you to go through this wilderness, and never taste sin's sugared pleasures! What poorer is a soul to want pride, lust, love of the world, and the vanities of this vain and worthless world? Nature hath no cause to weep at the want of such toys as these. Esteem it your gain to be an heir of glory. Oh, but this is an eye-look to a fair rent! The very hope of heaven, under troubles, is like wind and sails to the soul, and like wings, when the feet come out of the snare. Oh, for what stay we here? Up, up, after our Lord Jesus! This is not our rest, nor our dwelling. What have we to do in this prison, except only to take meat and house-room in it for a time?
Grace, grace be with you.
Your soul's well-wisher, and Christ's prisoner,
S. R.
Aberdeen, 1637.