John Cheap, the Chapman's Library. Vol. 2: Religious and Scriptural: The Scottish Chap Literature of Last Century, ClassifiedGraham, Dougal
Religion
John Cheap, the Chapman's Library. Vol. 2: Religious and Scriptural: The Scottish Chap Literature of Last Century, Classified
Graham, Dougal
Chapbooks, Scottish; English literature -- 18th century; Popular literature -- Scotland
4. I would mourn, and tell him how little converse I have with
himself, how much he is hidden from me; I would complain to him,
how far off I am from him the most part of my life, how few are
the hours of my communion with him, how short is the visit, how
much his face is concealed from me, and how far my heart is divided
from him. A soul then says, “Surely there is too great a distance
between me and my God, my heavenly Father;” and cries out with
bitterness, “Why is God so far from me, and why is my heart so
far from God? How often do I wait upon him in his own sanctuary,
and among his saints, but I am not favoured with a sight of his
power and glory there! And how often do I seek him in my secret
retirements, but I find him not! I would tell him how often I read
his promises in the gospel, and taste no sweetness; I go frequently
to those wells of consolation and they seem to be dry; then I turn
my face, and go away ashamed.”
5. I would tell him too of my temporal troubles, if I get near to
God, because they unfit me for his service, they make me uncapable
of honouring him in the world, and render me unfit for enjoying
him in his ordinances; I would tell him how they damp my zeal,
how they bow my spirit down, and make me go mourning all the day
long, to the dishonour of Christianity, which is a dispensation
of grace and joy. Thus I might complain before God of pains, of
weakness, of sickness, of the disorders of my flesh; I might
complain there too of the weakness of all my powers, the want of
memory, the scatterings and confusions that are upon my thoughts,
the wanderings of my fancy, and the unhappy influence that a
feeble and diseased body has upon the mind: “O my God, how am I
divided from thee by dwelling in such a tabernacle! Still patching
up a tottering cottage, and wasting my best hours in a painful
attendance on the infirmities of the flesh!”
I might then take the liberty of spreading before my God all the
sorrows and vexations of life, that unhinge my soul from its
centre, that throw it off from my guard, and hurry and expose me to
daily temptations. I might complain of my reproaches from friends
and enemies; because these, many times, wear out the spirit and
unfit it for acts of lively worship. These are my weekly sorrows
and groans, these are my daily fears and troubles; and these shall
be spread before the eyes of my God, in the happy hour when I get
near him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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