We would either have a silent, a soft, a perfumed cross, sugared and honeyed with the consolations of Christ, or we faint; and providence must either brew a cup of gall and wormwood, mastered in the mixing with joy and songs, else we cannot be disciples. But Christ’s cross did not smile on him, his cross was a cross, and his ship sailed in blood, and his blessed soul was sea-sick, and heavy even to death.
Samuel Rutherford, Christ Dying and Drawing Sinners to Himself, Or, a Survey of Our Saviour in His Soule-Suffering, His Lovelynesse in His Death, and the Efficacie There
crucifixion, providence, suffering