Chapter XXXV: Letter XXIV: To his wife

_My most dear Theodosia_,

THOU seemest to have been long from me; let nothing any longer detain thee, but my sister’s necessity, or father’s authority. I am in a comfortable state of health, through divine goodness, to which be glory for ever. See that thou love and admire that fountain of our life, and peace: and be ever mindful that ’tis all thy business to love, and serve, and praise thy Creator and Redeemer. I have no other business but this to write to thee about: but this is all our business. What we use to call business is but vanity and pastime in comparison of this. Remember that ’tis thy one end, to glorify God, and enjoy him for ever. Learn well that lesson, and know, that it is the only thing necessary. Every morning remember that thy serving and pleasing God is the whole business of that day, and therefore set out accordingly with an express design and intention to please God in thy eating, drinking, visiting, conversing, and duties throughout the day. My most dear heart, I have nothing in the world that doth concern thee, or me so much to write of to thee, as this. Oh that thou mayst still be laying up in heaven! Still furthering thy account; still adding to the heap, and increasing thy glorious reward? Nothing is done for God, but thou shalt hear of it again. What is not done for God, is but so much lost. Those things which others do, being led by their natural affections and desires, those things do thou with holy aims, for spiritual ends, and then God will put it on the account, as so much done for him. So it is, my dearest, God keeps a true account. See that thou believe it, and so plough in hope, and sow in hope, pray and hear with an eye to the sure reward. Let thy hopes be strong and lively, and then thy hands will be strong, and thy resolutions and affections will be strong. My time is very precious, and I would not lose an inch of it. See thou to it, that my time in writing this letter be not lost time. Love God the more, and set thy heart the straiter towards him, and practise this one thing, in every action look to thy end, and then I have got well, and thou better by these counsels. My dearest, I love thee in truth and tenderness, but my love signifies little, unless it serve thine eternal good.

_I rest thine own_,

JOS. ALLEINE.

[To his wife.]

_My dear heart_,

*MY heart is now a little at rest to write to thee. I have been these three days much disturbed. Strong sollicitations I have had from several hands, to accept very honourable preferment; but I have not found the invitations to suit with the inclinations of my own heart, as I was confident they would not with thine. I have sent away my friends satisfied with the reasons of my refusal, and now can say, _Soul, return unto thy rest_. But alas, that such things should disturb me! I would live above this lower region, that no passages whatsoever might put me out of frame, or unsettle me from my desired rest. I would have my heart fixed upon God, so as no occurrences might disturb my tranquility, but I might be still in the same quiet and even frame. Well, though I am apt to be unsettled, yet I am like a bird out of the nest, I am never at quiet till I am in my old way of communion with God; like the needle in the compass, that is restless, till it be turned towards the pole.

I can say through grace, with my soul have I desired thee in the night, and with my spirit within me have I sought thee early; my heart is early and late with God, ’tis the business and delight of my life to seek him. But alas, how long shall I spend my days in wishing, when my glorified brethren spend theirs in enjoying? As the poor imprisoned captive sighs under his irons, and can only look through the grate, and long for the liberty which others enjoy: such is my condition. I can only look through the grate of this prison, my flesh; I see _Abraham_, and _Isaac_, and _Jacob_, sitting down in the kingdom of God. But alas, I myself must stand without, longing, praying, waiting, for what they are enjoying. Happy souls! When shall these fetters of mine be knocked off? When shall I be set at liberty from this prison of my body? You are cloathed with glory, when I am cloathed with dust. I dwell in flesh, in a house of clay, when you dwell with God in a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.

I must be continually clogged with this cumbersome body, when you have put on incorruption and immortality. What continual molestation am I subject to by reason of this flesh? What pains doth it cost me to keep this earthen vessel from breaking! It must be exercised; and which is worst of all, cherished with time-devouring sleep; so that I live but little of the short time I have allotted me here. But oh blessed souls, you are swallowed up of immortality and life, your race is run, and you have received your crown. How cautious must I be to keep me from dangers! How apt am I to be troubled with the cares and fears of this life, when your souls are taken up with God and Christ, and ’tis your work to be still contemplating, and admiring that love that redeemed you from all this. What pains must I be at to repair the ruinous building of this earthly tabernacle, which when I have done, I am sure will shortly fall about my ears; when you are got far above mortality, and are made equal with the angels. Oh! I groan earnestly to be cloathed upon with my house which is from heaven, being willing rather to be absent from the body and present with the Lord! Oh, when shall I come and appear before him? When shall I receive the purchase of my Saviour, the fruit of my prayers, the harvest of my labours, the end of my faith, the salvation of my soul? Alas, what do I here? This is not my resting place, my treasure is in heaven. Oh when shall I be where my heart is? Wo is me that dwell in the tents of _Kedar_! Oh that I had wings like a dove, that I might fly away and be at rest! Then would I hasten my escape from the storm and tempest, and be out of the reach of fears, disturbances, and distractions. How long shall I live at such a distance from my God, at such a distance from my country? Alas, how can I sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? No, I will hang my harp upon the willows, and sit down and weep when I remember _Sion_. But yet my flesh shall rest in hope, and I will daily bathe my soul in the sweet thoughts of my blessed home. I will rejoice in hopes of what I do not yet enjoy, and content myself with the taste of what I shall shortly have my fill of.

The Lord grant the request I daily pour out before him, and make us furtherances to each other’s soul, that we may quicken and promote and forward one another in his ways! Help me by thy prayers, as thou dost always. The God of all peace and comfort be with thee my sweet love! Farewell!

_Thine beyond expression_,

JOS. ALLEINE.