REVEREND AND WELL-BELOVED IN OUR LORD,--Grace, mercy, and peace be to you.--I received your letter, which hath refreshed me in my bonds. I cannot but testify unto you, my dear brother, what sweetness I find in our Master's cross; but, alas, what can I either do or suffer for Him! If I my lone had as many lives as there have been drops of rain since the creation, I would think them too little for that lovely One, our Well-beloved; but my pain and my sorrow is above my sufferings, that I find not ways to set out the praises of His love to others. I am not able, by tongue, pen, or sufferings, to provoke many to fall in love with Him: but He knoweth, whom I love to serve in the Spirit, what I would do and suffer by His own strength, so being that I might make my Lord Jesus lovely and sweet to many thousands in this land. I think it amongst God's wonders, that He will take any praise or glory, or any testimony to His honourable cause, from such a forlorn sinner as I am. But when Christ worketh, He needeth not ask the question, by whom He will be glorious. I know (seeing His glory at the beginning did shine out of poor nothing, to set up such a fair house for men and angels, and so many glorious creatures, to proclaim His goodness, power, and wisdom) that, if I were burnt to ashes, out of the smoke and powder of my dissolved body He could raise glory to Himself. His glory is His end: oh that I could join with Him to make it my end! I would think that fellowship with Him sweet and glorious. But, alas! few know the guiltiness that is on my part: it is a wonder, that this good cause hath not been marred and spilled in my foul hands. But I rejoice in this, that my sweet Lord Jesus hath found something ado, even a ready market for His free grace and incomparable and matchless mercy, in my wants. Only my loathsome wretchedness and my wants have qualified me for Christ, and the riches of His glorious grace. He behoved to take me for nothing, or else to want me. Few know the unseen and private reckonings betwixt Christ and me; yet His love, His boundless love would not bide away, nor stay at home with Himself. And yet I do not make it welcome as I ought, when it is come unsent-for and without hire.
How joyful is my heart, that ye write that ye are desirous to join with me in praising; for it is a charity to help a dyvour to pay his debts. But when all have helped me, my name shall stand in His account-book under ten thousand thousands of sums unpaid. But it easeth my heart that His dear servants will but speak of my debts to such a sweet Creditor. I desire that He may lay me in His own balance and weigh me, if I would not fain have a feast of His boundless love made to my own soul, and to many others. One thing I know, that we shall not at all be able to come near His excellency with eye, heart, or tongue; for He is above all created thoughts. All nations before Him are as nothing, and less than nothing: He sitteth in the circuit of heaven, and the inhabitants of the earth are as grasshoppers before Him. Oh that men would praise Him!
Ye complain of your private case. Alas! I am not the man to speak to such an one as ye are. Any sweet presence which I have had in this town, is, I know, for this cause, that I might express and make it known to others. But I never find myself nearer Christ, that royal and princely One, than after a great weight and sense of deadness and gracelessness. I think that the sense of our wants, when withal we have a restlessness and a sort of spiritual impatience under them and can make a din, because we want Him whom our soul loveth, is that which maketh an open door to Christ. And when we think we are going backward, because we feel deadness, we are going forward; for the more sense, the more life; and no sense argueth no life. There is no sweeter fellowship with Christ than to bring our wounds and our sores to Him. But for myself, I am ashamed of Christ's goodness and love, since the time of my bonds; for He hath been pleased to open up new treasures of love and felt sweetness, and give visitations of love and access to Himself, in this strange land. I would think a fill of His love young and green heaven. And when He is pleased to come, and the tide is in, and the sea full, and the King and a poor prisoner together in the house-of-wine, the black tree of the cross is not so heavy as a feather. I cannot, I dow not, but give Christ an honourable and glorious testimony.