[CCIV.—To Margaret Fullerton.]
(CHRIST, AND NOT CREATURES, WORTHY OF ALL LOVE—LOVE NOT TO BE MEASURED BY FEELING.)
M ISTRESS,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.—I am glad that ever ye did cast your love on Christ; fasten more and more love every day on Him. Oh, if I had a river of love, a sea of love that would never go dry, to bestow upon Him! But, alas, the pity! Christ hath beauty for me, but I have not love for Him. Oh, what pain is it to see Christ in His beauty, and then to want a heart and love for Him! But I see that want we must, till Christ lend us, never to be paid again. Oh that He would empty these vaults and lower houses (of these poor souls) of bastard and base lovers, which we follow! And verily, I see no object in heaven or in earth that I could ware this much of love upon, that I have upon Christ. Alas! that clay, and time, and shadows, run away with our love, which is ill spent upon any but upon Christ. Each fool at the day of judgment will seek back his love from the creatures, when he shall see them all in a fair fire. But they shall prove irresponsal debtors; and, therefore, it is best here, that we look ere we leap, and look ere we love.
I find now under His cross, that I would fain give Him more than I have to give Him, if giving were in my power; but I rather wish Him my heart, than give Him it. Except He take it, and put Himself in possession of it (for I hope[318] He hath a market-right to me, since He hath ransomed me), I see not how Christ can have me. Oh that He would be pleased to be more homely with my soul's love, and to come into my soul, and take His own! But when He goeth away and hideth Himself, all is to me that I had of Christ as if it had fallen into the sea-bottom. Oh that I should be so fickle in my love, as to love Him only by the eyes and the nose! that is, to love Him only in as far as fond and foolish sense carrieth me, and no more; and when I see not, and smell not, and touch not, then I have all to seek. I cannot love perqueer, nor rejoice perqueer. But this is our weakness, till we be at home, and shall have aged men's stomachs to bear Christ's love.
Pray for me, that our Lord would bring me back to you, with a new blessing of the Gospel of Christ. I forget not you. Grace, grace be with you.
Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R.
Aberdeen, 1637.