To Mrs. H., February 20, 1850.
My loved one in our beloved, and for His precious sake,
In His own sweet love I salute you in spirit, and in our oneness in Him
desire to commune of Him, joyfully forgetting ourselves and each other, that
He alone may be remembered. May He be the glow between us, His living love
being the fire of our fervor. Truly we want no false fire of the flesh, for
all such will go out in utter darkness; we want no sparks of our own
kindling, for He says of such, "This shall you have at my hand, you shall
lie down in sorrow." God himself has kindled his own fire of love in our
souls, and in the renewings of it by His Spirit we flow out to each other in
His praise. Oh, blessed privilege, not to know or be known after the
flesh—but "all for the lifting of Jesus on high," that He may increase and
we decrease!
Very sweet is the flow of your love-strain, my dear
Amelia. It is sweet for His sake who is to His bride what no earthly
language can ever fully express; for when we have said all we can, the
fullest and sweetest remains untold. Each bosom must know for itself the
secrets of love, or they are not known at all; and where really enjoyed,
they will flow from soul to soul in something more powerful than words. I
feel it, beloved friend, it is inexpressible—one life, one love, one
Beloved, one blissful eternity, in which we shall know as we are known, and
see as we are seen. What, what shall I render that I, so unworthy, should be
the object of such love? "If a man would give all the substance of his house
for love, it would utterly be scorned." (Cant. 8:6) Oh, it comes free, or I
had never known it; and most freely, without creature effort, does it flow
back to its source and flow out to those kindred souls who are enkindled by
its sacred fire. Truly I am formed by love, for love. To the
God of love, who is love, be all the praise! "This people have I formed for
myself, they shall show forth my praise."
O our precious Christ, surely we will welcome the fiery
coals of Your jealousy, the vehement flame of which shall burn out from our
hearts every name, every image—but Your own, for only then can our inner man
be satisfied, "when we awake up in Your likeness." Oh, then, set us "as a
seal upon Your heart, as a seal upon Your arm" forever.
It seems the will of our Father that you and I, dear
Amelia, should walk for a season in much circumstantial contrariety, and
perhaps just as we seem ready to cast the anchor or touch the shore, we are
unexpectedly sent out again into a fresh storm. So it has been with me—but
all is well. There is no perishing with Christ on board; "the winds and
waves obey Him," and the storm blows up or blows over, precisely according
to His loving will. This morning our family reading was Matt. 12, and at
verse 20 my soul melted, and your spirit seemed blended in its softness and
its triumph. Yes, it seemed for you: "A bruised reed shall He not break, and
smoking flax shall He not quench, until He send forth judgment unto
victory." "Judgment unto victory,"—it needs no comment; I could say much—but
words will only impoverish. I cast this bread upon the waters of your soul
and of your circumstances; if you are fed by it in all its fullness, it will
not only invigorate now—but be found after many days. May He who kindled the
flame of our friendship be pleased constantly to take off all that is of the
creature, that it may burn free and bright to His glory alone, and that we
may live in each other's hearts without leaving any the less room for Him
"who fills all in all." O holy, lovely Savior, keep Your poorest, vilest
worm in her true nothingness, in all her and Your beloved ones, and just
make her only help them to love You more. Take this loving Amelia and
consecrate the union of our hearts, in oneness with You, to Your especial
service and Your glory; ever keep us clear of each other—ah, and of all
others—that communion may be free and blissful in You, of You, with You, and
for You. Amen.
Now, my beloved friend, one word more. The work of grace
in my soul never would be systemized, and never could I square it to any
model which creatures have presented, even the very best of them. I have had
just to give up all into the forming hands of my Beloved, and be willing to
be what I call a "nondescript." I am too high for some, and too low for
others, and exactly like none, except as we both are in Christ. I do not say
it will be thus with you—but, if it should, you will not be alone; and I
must say it is truly glorious to go on with Jesus only. Many would cut us
off and cast us out—but He says, "Because I live, you shall live also."
Though now hidden in the deshabille of this mortal state, yet when
"He who is our life shall appear, then shall we also appear with Him in
glory." And though not understood by many of our "mother's children," yet do
we rejoice to be naked and open to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do.
As for our leading in experience, when we try to keep in any line chalked
out to us by others, we only get bewilderment; for one builds up, and
another pulls down, and the confusion becomes more confused. So, at least, I
have found.
My first real establishing, after years of tossing, came
exactly as Gal. 1:12--"For I did not receive it from a human source and I
was not taught it, but it came by a revelation from Jesus Christ." And I
believe that in the same way only will the teaching go on. I speak not to
bring you into my line of things—but just to encourage your heart, if your
teaching seem not fully to conform to that of any of your fellows. It is
vain to pare off or piece on, to please those we most esteem; each stone has
its place in the spiritual buildings, and each member its office in the
body; the preparation for which, is best understood by Him who works all
things after the counsel of His own will. We need not fear, if He only knows
what He is doing with us, and what is to be the outcome—but love will still
confide.
And now, my dear friend, methinks I have lost both you
and myself in the absorbing glories of Him who is the only "altogether
lovely." Ah, He has borne away my poor heart in triumph—but He has left His
own in its place. Happy exchange! Heartless for earth I would henceforth
remain that I may be heart-full of Him. Whatever wise ones or great ones
prescribe, be it mine to live in sweet simplicity in the element of love,
which truly is most congenial to my soul. Here I breathe freely, live
joyfully, and not only take every cup from my Beloved's own hand—but drink
it for His own sake, not because of what is or is not in it. Now, a warm
adieu from the truest worm, who has, by divine light, life, and power, been
made a living monument of sovereign, saving grace.
In the endearment of undecaying love, your most
unworthy—but warmly affectionate,
Ruth