[Fulk Ellis was the eldest son of Major Edmond Ellis of Carrickfergus, an English colonist. Edmond was a man of distinguished piety, and a zealous Covenanter. "Through all the difficulties and vicissitudes of those trying times," says Dr. Reid, "he was a consistent Presbyterian, and a truly eminent Christian. Several of his devout sayings on his death-bed (he died 11th June 1651) have been preserved." Fulk also followed the military profession, in which he held the rank of captain, and embarked in the same cause with his father. "He and his company (who were all from Ireland) joined the Scottish force in resisting the arms of Charles in 1640, and were at the battle of Newburn. He shared in the supplies forwarded to the different companies of the army from their parishes in Scotland. He returned to Ireland after the rebellion; and was captain and major in Sir John Clotworthy's regiment of foot, and is believed to have fallen in action near Desert-martin, in the county of Derry, in September 1643. His descendants, of the same name, still reside at Carrickfergus" (Reid's "Hist. of Presbyt. Ch.").]
(FRIENDS IN IRELAND—DIFFICULTIES IN PROVIDENCE—UNFAITHFULNESS TO LIGHT—CONSTANT NEED OF CHRIST.)
W ORTHY AND MUCH HONOURED IN OUR LORD,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.
1. I am glad of our more than paper acquaintance. Seeing we have one Father, it reckoneth the less, though we never see one another's face. I profess myself most unworthy to follow the camp of such a worthy and renowned Captain as Christ. Oh, alas! I have cause to be grieved, that men expect anything of such a wretched man as I am. It is a wonder to me, if Christ can make anything of my naughty, short, and narrow love to Him; surely it is not worth the uptaking.
2. As for our lovely and beloved church in Ireland, my heart bleedeth for her desolation; but I believe that our Lord is only lopping the vine-trees, but not intending to cut them down, or root them out. It is true (seeing we are heart-atheists by nature, and cannot take providence aright, because we halt and crook ever since we fell), we dream of a halting providence; as if God's yard, whereby He measureth joy and sorrow to the sons of men, were crooked and unjust, because servants ride on horseback, and princes go on foot. But our Lord dealeth good and evil, and some one portion or other to both, by ounce-weights, and measureth them in a just and even balance. It is but folly to measure the Gospel by summer or winter weather: the summer-sun of the saints shineth not on them in this life. How should we have complained, if the Lord had turned the same providence that we now stomach at upside down, and had ordered matters thus, that first the saints should have enjoyed heaven, glory, and ease, and then Methuselah's days of sorrow and daily miseries? We would think a short heaven no heaven. Certainly His ways pass finding out.
3. Ye complain of the evil of heart-atheism: but it is to a greater atheist than any man can be, that ye write of that. Oh, light findeth not that reverence and fear which a plant of God's setting should find in our soul! How do we by nature, as others, detain and hold captive the truth of God in unrighteousness, and so make God's light a bound prisoner? And even when the prisoner breaketh the jail, and cometh out in belief of a Godhead, and in some practice of holy obedience, how often do we, of new, lay hands on the prisoner, and put our light again in fetters? Certainly there cometh great mist and clouds from the lower part of our souls, our earthly affections, to the higher part, which is our conscience, either natural or renewed: as smoke in a lower house breaketh up, and defileth the house above. If we had more practice of obedience, we should have more sound light. I think, lay aside all other guiltiness, that this one, the violence done to God's candle in our soul, were a sufficient dittay against us. There is no helping of this but by striving to stand in awe of God's light. Left light tells tales of us we desire little to hear; but since it is not without God that light sitteth neighbour to will (a lawless lord), no marvel that such a neighbour should leaven our judgment, and darken our light. I see there is a necessity that we protest against the doings of the Old Man, and raise up a party against our worst half, to accuse, condemn, sentence, and with sorrow bemoan, the dominion of sin's kingdom; and withal make law, in the New Covenant, against our guiltiness. For Christ once condemned sin in the flesh, and we are to condemn it over again. And if there had not been such a thing as the grace of Jesus, I should have long since given up with heaven, and with the expectation to see God. But grace, grace, free grace, the merits of Christ for nothing, white and fair, and large Saviour-mercy (which is another sort of thing than creature-mercy, or Law-mercy, yea, a thousand degrees above angel-mercy), have been, and must be, the rock that we drowned souls must swim to. New washing, renewed application of purchased redemption, by that sacred blood that sealeth the free Covenant, is a thing of daily and hourly use to a poor sinner. Till we be in heaven, our issue of blood shall not be quite dried up; and, therefore, we must resolve to apply peace to our souls from the new and living way; and Jesus, who cleanseth and cureth the leprous soul, lovely Jesus, must be our song on this side of heaven's gates. And even when we have won the castle, then must we eternally sing, "Worthy, worthy is the Lamb, who hath saved us, and washed us in His own blood."
I would counsel all the ransomed ones to learn this song, and to drink and be drunk with the love of Jesus. O fairest, O highest, O loveliest One, open the well! Oh, water the burnt and withered travellers with this love of Thine! I think it is possible on earth to build a young New Jerusalem, a little new heaven, of this surpassing love. God either send me more of this love, or take me quickly over the water, where I may be filled with His love. My softness cannot take with want. I profess I bear not hunger of Christ's love fair. I know not if I play foul play with Christ, but I would have a link of that chain of His providence mended, in pining and delaying the hungry on-waiters. For myself, I could wish that Christ would let out upon me more of that love. Yet to say Christ is a niggard to me, I dare not; and if I say I have abundance of His love, I should lie. I am half straitened[347] to complain, and cry, "Lord Jesus, hold Thy hand no longer."
Worthy Sir, let me have your prayers, in my bonds. Grace be with you,