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 ... in weeke beleevers are opened
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