A57970:1500
Joshua Redivivus, or Mr. Rutherford's Letters
Joshua redivivus, or, Mr. Rutherford's letters divided into two parts, the first, containing these which were written from Aberdeen, where he was confined by a sentence of the high commission ... partly on account of his non-conformance : the second, containing some which were written from Anwoth ... / now published for the use of all the people of God ... by a well-wisher to the work & people of God.Joshua redivivus, or, Mr. Rutherfoord's letters divided into two parts, the first, containing these which were written from Aberdeen, where he was confined by a sentence of the high commission ... partly on account of his non-conformance : the second, containing some which were written from Anwoth ... / now published for the use of all the people of God ... by a wellwisher to the work & people of God.
Rotterdam? : s.n., 1664
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
To my Lady KENMURE. [67.]
MADAM.
I Should not forget you; but my deadness under a threatening-stroke, both of a failing Church, a broken Covenant, a despised remnant, & craziness of body [that I cannot get a piece sickly clay carried about from one house or town to another] lies most heavy on me: The Lord hath removed Scotland's crown; for we owned not his crown; we fretted at his Catholic Government of the world, & fretted that he would not be ruled & led by us, in breaking our adversaries; & he makes us suffer & pine away in our in quities under the broken Government of his house. It's like, it would be our snare to be tried with the honour of a peaceable Reformation, we might mar the carved work of his house worse then th•se against whom we cry out. It's like he hath bidden us lie on our left side three hundred & ninety days, & yet so astonishing is our stupidity, that we •oan not our sore side: Our gold is become dim the visage of our Nazarites is become black, the Sun is gone down on our See•s, the crown is fallen from our head, we roar like bears. Lord save us from that, He that hath made them, will not have me••, on them. The heart of the Scribe meditates terror. Oh, Madam if the Lord would help to more, self-judging, and to make sure an interest in Christ! Ah, we forget eternity, & it approacheth quickly. Grace be with you.
I Should not forget you; but my deadness under a threatning-stroke, both of a failing Church, a broken Covenant, a despised remnant, & craziness of body [that I cannot get a piece sickly clay carryed about from one house or town to another] lies most he•vy on me: The Lord hath removed Scotland's crown; for we owned not his crown; we fretted at his Catholick Government of the world, & fretted that he would not be ruled & led by us, in breaking our adversaries; & he makes us suffer & pine away in our in quities under the broken Government of his house. It's like, it would be our snare to be tryed with the honour of a peaceable Reformation, we might mar the carved work of his house worse then thse against whom we cry out. It's like he hath bidden us lie on our left side three hundred & ninetie dayes, & yet so astonishing is our stupiditie, that we oan not our sore side: Our gold is become dim the visage of our Nazarites is become black, the Sun is gone down on our Sees, the crown is sallen from our head, we roar like bears. Lord save us from that, He that hath made them, will not have me, on them. The heart of the Scribe meditats terror. Oh, Madam if the Lord would help to more, self-judging, and to make sure an interest in Christ! Ah, we forget eternity, & it approacheth quickly. Grace be with you.