Rutherford: "My faith hath no bed to sleep upon but Omnipotency"

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XCV. To the Noble and Christian lady, Viscountess Kenmure.
[The times, Christ’s sweetness in trouble, Longing after Him]
MADAM,—Grace, mercy, and peace be to you. I would not omit the occasion to write to your Ladyship with the bearer. I am glad the child is well; God’s favour even in the eyes of men be seen upon him. I hope your Ladyship is thinking upon these sad and woeful days wherein we now live, when our Lord, in his righteous judgment, is sending the Kirk the gate she is going, to Rome's brothel-house to seek a lover of her own, seeing that she hath given up with Christ her husband. Oh, what sweet comfort, what rich salvation, is laid up for these who had rather wash and roll their garments in their own blood than break out from Christ by apostacy! Keep yourself in the love of Christ, and stand far aback from the pollutions of the world: side not with these times, and hold from coming nigh the signs of a conspiracy with those that are now come out against Christ, that you may be one kept for Christ only. I know your Ladyship thinketh upon this, and how you may be humbled for yourself and this backsliding land; for I avouch that wrath from the Lord is gone out against Scotland. I think aye the longer the better of my royal and worthy Master. He is become a new Well-beloved to me now, in renewed consolations, by the presence of the Spirit of grace and glory. Christ’s garments smell of the powder of the merchant, when he cometh out of his ivory chambers. Oh, His perfumed face, His fair face, His lovely and kindly kisses, have made me, a poor prisoner, see there is more to be had of Christ in this life than I believed! We think all is but a little earnest, a four-hours,* a small tasting we have, or is to be had, in this life (which is true compared with the inheritance), but yet I know it is more, it is the kingdom of God within us. Woe, woe, is me, that I have not ten loves for that one Lord Jesus; and that love faileth and drieth up in loving Him; and that I find no way to spend my love desires, and the yolk of my heart upon that fairest and dearest One. I am far behind with my narrow heart. Oh, how ebb [shallow] a soul have I to take in Christ’s love! for let worlds be multiplied according to angels’ understanding, in millions, while they weary themselves, these worlds would not contain the thousandth part of His love. Oh, if I could yoke in amongst the thick of angels and seraphims, and now glorified saints, and could raise a new love-song of Christ before all the world! I am pained with wondering at new opened treasures in Christ; if every finger, member, bone, and joint were a torch burning in the hottest fire in hell, I would they could all send out love praises, high songs of praise for evermore, to that plant of renown, to that royal and high Prince Jesus my Lord. But, alas, His love swelleth in me, and findeth no vent! Alas, what can a dumb prisoner do or say for Him! O, for an engine [power/faculty] to write a book of Christ and His love! Nay, I am left of Him bound and chained with His love! I cannot find a loosed soul to lift up His praises, and give them out to others: but oh, my daylight hath thick clouds; I cannot shine in His praises! I am often like a ship plying about to seek the wind: I sail at great leisure, and cannot be blown upon that loveliest Lord. Oh, if I could turn my sails to Christ’s right airth, and that I had my heart's wishes of His love! But, I but mar His praises: nay, I know no comparison of what Christ is, and what His worth is; all the angels, and all the glorified, praise Him not so much as in halves. Who can advance Him or utter all His praises? I want nothing; unknown faces favour me: enemies must speak good of the truth: my Master’s cause purchaseth commendations.

The hopes of my enlargement, from appearances, are cold. My faith hath no bed to sleep upon but Omnipotency. The good will of the Lord and His sweetest presence be with you and that child. Grace and peace be your’s. Your Ladyship in all duty in his sweet Lord Jesus,
S. R. Aberdeen, 1637.

*The slight entertainment taken between dinner and supper. Formerly it denoted some stronger beverage. Jamieson’s Scottish Dictionary.

The letter is numbered differently in various editions. I’ve edited this text from a Bonar edition of 1848 pp. 181-183. Letters of the Rev. Samuel Rutherford.
 
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