241. CCXLII.—To the LADY ROWALLAN

CCXLII.—To the LADY ROWALLAN

[LADY ROWALLAN, whose maiden name was Sarah Brisbane, being the fourth daughter of John Brisbane of Bishoptown, was the third wife of Sir William Mure of Rowallan (Robertson’s "Ayrshire Families"). "In 1639 Lady Rowallan lost her husband, who died in the sixty-third year of his age. He was a man of strong body, and delighted much in hunting and hawking." ("The History and Descent of the House of Rowallan. By Sir William Mure, Knight, of Rowallan.")

Rowallan is a mile and a half from the village of Kilmaurs, in which churchyard is a curious tomb of the old Glencairn family. Rowallan Castle was not large; it is now nearly a ruin, though the gardener’s family occupy two rooms. It was a mansion as well as a castle. It stands on a rocky ledge, with the ground sinking low on all sides, and a burn flowing near, which sometimes in rainy seasons formed a lakelet, and could at any time be dammed up so as to form a moat to protect the castle.

It is so situated that you do not see it until close upon it, and hence was all the better fitted for a place of meeting in Covenanting times. The room on the highest floor, near the turret, is pointed out as that in which conventicles were held. More than a hundred could assemble in it. The old campstools used to be preserved, but now only the remains of two exist. Another turret is said to be that from the window of which King Robert II.’s queen escaped in olden days.] (JESUS THE BEST CHOICE, AND TO BE MADE SURE OF—THE CROSS AND JESUS INSEPARABLE—SORROWS ONLY TEMPORARY.)

MADAM,—Though not acquainted, I am bold in Christ to speak to your Ladyship on paper. I rejoice in our Lord Jesus, on your behalf, that it hath pleased Him, whose love to you is as old as Himself, to manifest the favour of His love in Christ Jesus to your soul, in the revelation of His will and mind to you, now when so many are shut up in unbelief. O the sweet change which ye have made, in leaving the black kingdom of this world and sin, and coming over to our Bridegroom’s new kingdom, to know, and be taken with the love of the beautiful Son of God! I beseech you, Madam, in the Lord, to make now sure work, and see that the old house be casten down, and razed from the foundation, and that the new building of your soul be of Christ’s own laying; for then wind nor storm shall neither loose it, nor shake it asunder. Many now take Christ by guess; be sure that it be He, and only He, whom ye have met with. His sweet smell, His lovely voice, His fair face, His sweet working in the soul, will not lie; they will soon tell if it be Christ indeed; and I think that your love to the saints speaketh that it is He. And, therefore, I say, be sure that ye take Christ Himself, and take Him with His Father’s blessing: His Father alloweth Him well upon you. Your lines are well fallen; it could not have been better, nor so well with you, if they had not fallen in these places. In heaven, or out of heaven, there is nothing better, nothing so sweet and excellent as the thing ye have lighted on; and therefore hold you with Christ. Joy, much joy may ye have of Him: but take His cross with Himself cheerfully. Christ and His cross are not separable in this life; howbeit Christ and His cross part at heaven’s door, for there is no houseroom for crosses in heaven. One tear, one sigh, one sad heart, one fear, one loss, one thought of trouble, cannot find lodging there: they are but the marks of our Lord Jesus down in this wide inn, and stormy country, on this side of death. Sorrow and the saints are not married together; or, suppose it were so, heaven would make a divorce. I find that His sweet presence eateth out the bitterness of sorrow and suffering. I think it a sweet thing that Christ saith of my cross, "Half mine;" and that He divideth these sufferings with me, and taketh the larger share to Himself; nay, that I and my whole cross are wholly Christ’s. Oh, what a portion is Christ! Oh that the saints would dig deeper in the treasures of His wisdom and excellency!

Thus recommending your Ladyship to the good-will and tender mercies of our Lord, I rest, your Ladyship’s, in his sweet Lord Jesus,

S. R.

ABERDEEN, Sept. 7, 1637.