Liv. to Mr Robert Blair

REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER, -- The reason ye give for not writing to me

affecteth me much, and giveth me a dash, when such an one as ye

conceive an opinion of me, or of anything in me. The truth is, when I

come home to myself, oh, what penury do I find, and how feckless is my

supposed stock, and how little have I! He to whom I am as crystal, and

who seeth through me, and perceiveth the least mote that is in me,

knoweth that I speak of what I think and am convinced of: but men cast

me through a gross and wide sieve. My very dear brother, the room of

the least of all saints is too great for the like of me. But lest this

should seem art to fetch home reputation, I speak no more of it. It is

my worth to be Christ's ransomed sinner and sick one. His relation to

me is, that I am sick, and He is the Physician of whom I stand in need.

Alas! How often play I fast and loose with Christ! He bindeth, I loose;

He buildeth, I cast down; He trimmeth up a salvation for me, and I mar

it; I cast out with Christ, and He agreeth with me again, twenty times

a-day; I forfeit my kingdom and heritage, I lose what I had; but Christ

is at my back, and following on, to stoop and take up what falleth from

me. For my faith and reputation with Christ is, that I am a creature

that God will not put any trust into. I was, and am, bewildered with

temptations, and wanted a guide to heaven. Oh what have I to say of

that excellent, surpassing, and supereminent thing, they call, The

Grace of God, the way of free redemption in Christ! And when poor, poor

I, dead in law, was sold, fettered, and imprisoned in justice's closet-

ward, which is hell and damnation; when I, a wretched one, lighted upon

noble Jesus, eternally kind Jesus, tender-hearted Jesus (nay, when He

lighted upon me first, and knew me), I found that He scorned to take a

price, or anything like hire, of angels, or seraphim, or any of his

creatures. And, therefore, I would praise Him for this, that the whole

army of the redeemed ones sit rent-free in heaven. Our holding is

better than blench: we are all freeholders. And seeing that our eternal

feu-duty is but thanks, oh woeful me! That I have but spilled thanks,

lame, and broken, and miscarried praises, to give Him.

My dear brother, I shall think it comfort, if ye speak my name to our

Well-beloved. Wherever ye are, I am mindful of you. Oh that the Lord

would yet make the light of the moon in Scotland as the light of the

sun, and the light of the sun sevenfold brighter. For myself, as yet I

have received no answer whither to go. I wait on. Oh that Jesus had my

love! Let matters frame as they list, I have some more to do with

Christ; yet I would fain we were nearer.

Now the great Shepherd of the sheep, the very God of peace, establish

and confirm you till the day of His coming.

ABERDEEN, Sept. 9, 1637