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A 
 
 SERIOUS CALL 
 
 TO A 
 
 DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE^ 
 
 Sfc. 6{c. 
 
CHARACTERS OF THIS WORK. 
 
 1. By Dr. Johnson. 
 
 When at Oxford, I took up Laic's Serious Call to a IToly Life, expecting U> 
 find it a dull book (as such books generally are), and perhaps to laugh at it ; 
 but I found Law quite an overmatch for me, and this was the first occasion of 
 my thinking in earnest of religion, after I became capable of rational 
 inquiry. — Vide Boswelfs Life of Johnson, 3rd edit. vol. I. p. 43. 
 
 2. He much commended ' La-'s Serious Call,'' which he said was the finest 
 piece of hortatpry theology in any language. — Ibid. vol. 2. jp. 118. 
 
 3. This excellent treatise is wrote ia a strong and nervous style, and abounds 
 with many new and sublime thoughts : in a word, one may say of this book, 
 as Sir Richard Steel did of a Discnurse of Dr. South's, that it has in it what- 
 ever Kit or wisdom could put together; and I will venture to add, that who- 
 ever sits down, without prejudice, and attentively reads it throughout, will 
 rise up the wiser man and better Christian. — Vide Gctits. Mag, Nov. 1800. 
 
 4. The Writings of the Rev. W7n, Law will remain an everlasting testimony of 
 the strength and purity of the English language. — John Wesley. 
 
Serious Call 
 
 TO A 
 
 DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE, 
 
 ADAPTED TO 
 
 THE STATE AND CONDITION OF ALL ORDERS 
 OF CHRISTIANS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM LAW, A. M, 
 
 (Rg^teetttli ttntion. 
 
 CO RRECTED. 
 
 To which is added, 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR, 
 
 AND 
 
 THREE LETTERS TO A FRIEND, 
 
 Not before published in any of his Works. Also, TWO LETTERS from 
 Clergymen in the Establhhed Church, strongly recommending the Serious 
 Call, and other Works of the Author. — His Character by Edward Gibbon, 
 Esq., the Roman Historian, and a List of all his Works. 
 
 He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. — St. Lvkg viii. 8. 
 
 And behold I come quickly, and my reward is with me. — Rev. xzii> IS* 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR WILLIAM BAYNES, 54, PATER- 
 NOSTER'ROW ; 
 
 ST J. AND J. JACKSON, MARKET-PLACE) LOUTH. 
 
 1816. 
 
f<^ CtfvJi-tw^ A-^eX- f«-V ^^^"^ 
 
 SOI\IE ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REV. WILLIAM LAW, 
 
 &c. (fcc. 
 
 THE Rev. William Law, of Kin-s ClilTe, in Nor- 
 thamptonshire, was born in the year 1686, being" the 
 second son of Mr. Thomas Law, grocer. 
 
 It is very probable that he received the rudiments 
 of his education at Oakham, or Uppingham, in Rut- 
 landshire: on the 7th of June, 1705, he became a 
 student in Emmanuel College, Cambridge. 
 
 In the year 1708 he commenced Bachelor of Arts ; 
 in 1711 was elected Fellow of the College of which 
 he was a Member; and, in 1712, commenced Master 
 of Arts. 
 
 Soon after the accession of his Majesty King George 
 I. Mr. Law being called upon to take the oaths pre- 
 scribed by act of parliament, and to sign the Declara- 
 tion, refused to do so; in consequence of which he 
 vacated his fellowship in 1716, and from thencefor- 
 ward was distinguished by the name of a non-juring 
 minister. 
 
 That he was at one time a curate in London appears 
 from a passage in one of his letters, not yet printed, 
 or from some other good authority ; but whether he 
 acted in that capacity while Fellow of Emmanuel, or 
 soon after he vacated his fellowship, cannot now be 
 determined ; but it is well known, that he soon went 
 to reside at Putney with Mr. Gibljon, as tutor to his 
 son Edward Gibbon, who was father of Edward Gib- 
 bon the younger, author of " The History of the De- 
 cline and Fall of the Roman Empire." 
 
 a3 
 
VI SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 In the year 1717 Mr. Law engaged in controversy, 
 by writing in favour of the authority of the Christian 
 ministry in a national church. 
 
 In his parish church he joined in the public wor- 
 ship of God ; in his parish church, and there only, he 
 joined in celebration of the sacred rite of the Lord's 
 Supper; and in the same ground with those, who 
 were united to him by these acts of religion, he lies 
 interred. 
 
 In the year 1727 Mr. Law founded an alms-house 
 for the reception and maintenance of two old women, 
 either unmarried and helpless, or widows ; also a 
 school, for the instruction and clothing of fourteen 
 girls. 
 
 In the year 1755, the lands appropriated to the 
 support of his houses produced yearly fifty-four pounds 
 sterling; they now produce sixty-nine pounds ster- 
 ling, a rise inadequate to the increased value of the 
 produce. 
 
 As Mr. Law's first publications were well received, 
 and as he had been in Mr. Gibbon's family as tutor 
 and chaplain for some years before 1727, he might 
 have had the means of founding the widows' house, 
 and of educating fourteen girls, without the assistance 
 of any friend ; and perhaps he did so, although it is 
 by many believed, that the money so applied was the 
 gift of an unknown benefactor. 
 
 By Mr, Thomas Law, now living at Clilfe, the 
 grandson of Mr. George Law, who was the eldest 
 brother of William, it is said, that while Mr. Law was 
 standing at the door of a shop in jjondon, a person 
 unknown to him asked whether his name was William 
 Law, and whether he was of King's Cliffe; and, after 
 having received a satisfactory answer, delivered a 
 sealed paper, directed to the Rev. William Law, which 
 contained a bank note for one thousand pounds; and 
 it is believed by Mr. T. Law, that by those means the 
 small alms-house at Cliffe was built and endowed. 
 
 After i\Ir. Law retired to King's Cliffe, he refused 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. Vll 
 
 to take payment for the copies of his publications. It 
 is said that his bookseller, Mr. Richardson, once pre- 
 vailed upon him to accept one hundred guineas. 
 
 At what time after the year 1732 Mr. Law quitted 
 Mr. Gibbon's house at Putney, and went to reside in 
 London, the author of this memoir cannot learn ; but 
 he has authority for saying-, that, some time before the 
 year 1740, he was instrumental in making Mrs. Hes- 
 ter Gibbon, his pupil's sister, acquainted with Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Hutcheson, widow of Archibald Hutche- 
 son, Esq. of the Middle Temple. , 
 
 Mr. Hutcheson, when near his decease, recom- 
 mended to his wife a retired life, and told her, that he 
 knew no person whose society would be so likely to 
 prove profitable and agreeable to her as that of Mr. 
 Law, of whose writings he highly approved. Mrs. 
 Hutcheson, whose maiden name was Lawrence, had 
 been the wife of Colonel Robert Steward ; and, when 
 she went to reside in Northamptonshire, was in pos- 
 session of a large income, from the produce of an es- 
 tate which was in her own power, and of a life-interest 
 in property, settled on her in marriage, or devised to 
 her by Mr. Hutcheson. 
 
 These two ladies, Mrs. Hutcheson and Mrs. H. Gib- 
 bon, much devoted to God, and desirous of living en- 
 tirely to his glory, by the exercise of love to their 
 Christian brethren, formed the plan of living together 
 in the country, and in retirement from that circle of 
 society generally, but absurdly, called the world ; and 
 of taking TMr. Law as their chaplain, instructor, and 
 almoner. 
 
 We may be sure that their purpose was to cultivate 
 those good qualities, which best prepare the heart for 
 the enjoyment of that blessed region, " where all 
 worketh and willeth in quiet love." 
 
 In execution of their laudable design, they took a 
 house at Thrapstone, in Northamptonshire; but that 
 situation not proving agreeable to them, the two la- 
 dies enabled Mr. Law, in the year 1740, or soon af- 
 
 a4 
 
Vlll SOME ACCOUNT OP 
 
 terwards, to prepare a roomy house near the church 
 at King's ChfFe, and in that part of the town called 
 '' The Hall Yard." This house had belonged to Mr. 
 Thomas Law, and was then possessed by William, the 
 only property devised to him by his father. It had a 
 good garden annexed, and a close of pasture ground ; 
 in one corner of which the small alms-house, built by 
 W. Law, now stands. Part of the land, at this time 
 in possession of Mr. Law's kinsman, T. Law, was, in 
 small parcels, purchased at different times by Mrs. H. 
 Gibbon, and by her devised to- the son of William 
 Law's nephew, who made additions to the estate by 
 purchases after Mrs. Gibbon's death ; and, dying un- 
 married, devised the whole to his brother, Mr. Tho- 
 mas Law. 
 
 The presence of Mr. Law, no doubt, contributed 
 to make the house in " The Hall Yard " a blessed 
 place of retreat ; the whole income of his tv/o female 
 friends being devoted to the relief of the poor, and all 
 their time to the cultivation of that good seed, which 
 the adorable Lover of Mankind had sow^n in their 
 hearts. Mrs. Hutcheson's annual income was little 
 more or less than two thousand pounds, and that of 
 Mrs. Gibbon nearly one thousand. 
 
 As the expenditure within the house was, in all re- 
 spects, remarkably frugal, very great must have been 
 the expenditure without; so great as to make those 
 at Cliffe, who remember Mr. Law and his companions, 
 say, that their acts of charity were boundless. 
 
 The daily distribution of food and raiment at their 
 door never ceased, nor the granting of occasional re- 
 lief to the sick and needy. It is said, that the report 
 of such munificence spread to places far from Cliffe, 
 and produced applications from many whose wants 
 were less pressing than the want of necessary food and 
 raiment, and that such were often gratified by chari- 
 table donations. 
 
 Mr. Edward Gibbon says, that his aunt Hester was 
 the original from whence the character of Miranda, in 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. IX 
 
 the Serious CdW, was drawn ; but, as that lady was 
 very young- in her father's house when the Serious 
 Call was written, it seems likely that she was rather 
 an imperfect copy than a model, and that the original 
 existed only in Mr. Law's imagination. 
 
 It is said, and pixibably with truth, that Mr. Law, 
 while employed by Mr. Gibbon as tutor to his son, 
 acted voluntarily in giving tuition to his daughter ; and 
 that his pious instructions made an early and lasting* 
 impression on the mind of his female pupil, though 
 they had but little eifect on that of her brother. AVhy 
 a considerable part of the family estate was devised to 
 her and her sister, Mrs. Elliston, mother of Lady 
 Eliot, in prejudice of the heir at law, cannot now be 
 accounted tor in a satisfactory manner. After the 
 lapse of half a century, Mrs. Hester Gibbon's share 
 reverted into the natural channel by her will, and was 
 for a short time enjoyed by Edward Gibbon, who long- 
 expected it: but not without apprehensions, that his 
 aunt would devise it to some of those friends with 
 whom she had spent her life. 
 
 In the year 1761, on the morning of the 9th of 
 April, Mr. Law departed in the joyful hope of a bless- 
 ed life in regions of peace and love. He bore with 
 patience the severe pains of an internal inflammation, 
 which caused his death. When near expiring, he 
 sang a hymn with a strong and very clear voice. 
 
 Either before he sang the hymn, or soon after, he 
 is said to have spoken words, by which it was evident 
 that he felt the powers of the world to come : — " I 
 feel a sacred fire kindled in my soul, which will destroy 
 every thing- contrary to itself, and burn as a flame of 
 divine love to all eternity." 
 
 In such a triumph of holy joy did this extraordinary 
 servant of God resign his blessed spirit into the hands 
 of his beloved Lord and Master, at the place of his 
 nativity, the town of King's Cliife, in the county of 
 Northampton! And in the church-yard of that pa- 
 rish he lies interred, under a handsome tomb, erected 
 
X SOME ACCOUNT OP 
 
 to his memory by a particular and dear friend^ who 
 lived many years with him, and therefore had long 
 known, and highly and justly esteemed his singular 
 worth. 
 
 Whether we take his character from reports, or 
 from his writings, we must revere his memory ; believ- 
 ing that few have been his equals in this age, and not 
 many in any age of the church. The wisdom given 
 to him was such as wc cannot suppose to reside in any 
 but those who are of a contrite and humble spirit, and 
 tremble at their Master's word. 
 
 By the works of which he was the author, during 
 the last twenty years of his life, it plainly appears, 
 that, in love of all goodness, no person exceeded him ; 
 in labours designed to draw all to the service of that 
 Master, of whose loving-kindness and mercy he spoke 
 copiously in ail his writings, he was never v/eary : to 
 speak good of his name seems to have been his great- 
 est delight; and the hrst wish of his heart, that he 
 and all mankind might enjoy the full benefit of that 
 wonderful act of love, by which the gates of heaven 
 were open to all believers. Deliver us from evil, was 
 his daily prayer; a petition suited to the minds of 
 contrite sinners in all places, and on all occasions; 
 and, in his dying hour, not forgotten by Mr. Law. 
 
 Between the years 1717 and 1737, he published 
 several tracts, all in support of religion in general, 
 accompanied with the earnest recommendation of 
 good morals. Of these works, the best known is 
 '^ The Serious Call to a Devout Life." To this and 
 other of Mr. Law's first writings, some object, as not 
 dwelling sufficiently on the means of reconciliation to 
 God, repentance, and faith. 
 
 A few years before the publication of the Serious 
 Call, he wrote a treatise on Christian Perfection, 
 which contains excellent doctrine. Some pages of his 
 best style of writing may be found in it; but what 
 that work proves might have been explained in fewer 
 words : it appears to have been superseded by the 
 Serious Call in public estimation. 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. XI 
 
 The style of his censure on the playhouse may be 
 found fault vvith^ but to the substance of the work no 
 serious Christian will object: to suc'i a one it must 
 ever appear^ that the exhibitions at the theatre cannot 
 please any but those wljose vain minds take pleasure 
 in vanity. '' Vana \Lmis!" It is to little purpose to 
 dwell on this subject: those who like shows^ let what 
 will be saidj will always find arguments in defence of 
 their favourite amusement; while those who in any 
 degree regulate their lives by the precepts of the gos- 
 pel, seeking salvation from a state of sin, will avoid 
 scenes where the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, 
 and the pride of life, find ample gratification. 
 
 The Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life is by 
 many thought his most valuable wqrk. The design 
 is first to shew, that devotion means devotedness to 
 God ; and that prayer, public and private, retirement 
 for meditation and study, are but particular acts of 
 devotion, and no more than means for the cultivation 
 of the love of God and man. 
 
 In the Treatise on Regeneration, in an Appeal to 
 all who doubt, &c. in the Spirit of Prayer, in the Way 
 to Divine Knowledge, and in the Spirit of Love, Mr. 
 Law uses all the powers of his enlightened mind to 
 establish this great fundamental truth — that God is 
 love. He writes copiously on the fail of the first fa- 
 ther of mankind, knowing that the necessity for the 
 belief of the greatness of the remedy is best proved by 
 shewing the greatness of the disease. 
 
 Mr. Law was in stature rather over than under the 
 middle size; not corpulent, but stout-n:ade, with 
 broad shoulders ; his visage was round, his eyes grey ; 
 his features well proportioned, and not large ; his com- 
 plexion ruddy, and his countenance open and agree- 
 able. He was naturally more inclined to be merry 
 than sad. In his habits he was very regular and tem- 
 perate; he rose early, breakfasted iii his bcd-roona 
 
XU SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 alone on one cup of chocolate ; joined his family in 
 prayer at nine o'clock,, and again, soon after noon^ at 
 dinner. 
 
 When the daily provision for the poor was not 
 made punctually at the usual hour, he expressed his 
 displeasure sharply, but seldom on any other occa- 
 sion. He did not join Mrs. Gibbon and Mrs. Hutche- 
 son at the tea-table, but sometimes eat a few raisins 
 standing while they sat. 
 
 At an early supper, after an hour's walk in his 
 field or elsewhere, he eat something, and drank one 
 or two glasses of wine ; then joined in prayer with the 
 ladies and their servants, attended to the reading of 
 some portion of Scripture, and, at nine o'clock, retir- 
 ed. 
 
 When the children of his nephew came to his house, 
 as they often did, he was much pleased to see them, 
 and to take them on his knee. The youngest of 
 them now (Anno 1813) lives at King's Clitfe, in the 
 bouse which did belong to Mr. Law. 
 
 From a printed Account of the two charitable Foun- 
 dations at King's Cliffe, in the County of North- 
 ampton. Dated 1755. 
 
 In the year of our Lord, one thousand seven hundred 
 and forty-five, Mrs. Hutcheson set up a school in the 
 town of King's Cliffe, for the education and full cloth- 
 ing of eighteen poor boys of the town of King's Cliffe, 
 with a salary for a master well qualified to teach them 
 reading and writing, and all the useful parts of arith- 
 metic. 
 
 Mrs. Hutcheson afterwards bought a school-house 
 for the master, built a school, and four little tene- 
 ments adjoining to it, for the separate habitation of 
 four ancient and poor widows, chosen out of the town 
 of King's Cliffe, with a weekly allowance. 
 
 Por the perpetual maintenance of these charities'. 
 
I 
 
 THE REV. W. LAW. XUt 
 
 the following estates have, by Mrs. Hutcheson's oitler 
 and appointment, been conveyed, surrendered, and 
 sold, tor ever in trust, to G. Lynn, of Southvvick; W. 
 Pain King", of Finesliade, Esqs. ; to the Rev.C. Bates, 
 of Easton ; to the Rev. W. Piemont, Rector of King's 
 Cliffe; to T. Jackson, of Duddington, Gent.; to G. 
 Law, of JMorehay, Gent. 
 
 £. s. d. 
 One moiety of a certain number of Closes 
 
 in the County of Lincoln, let for .... 54 
 Land at Aslacton, in the county of Not- 
 tingham 53 
 
 Two Closes of King's Cliffc 18 10 
 
 Dealy's Closes 7 10 
 
 Ruxton Close 7 
 
 Close, near the school-house 8 
 
 ^148 
 
 Donatus O'Brien, of Blatherwick, Esq., was, at the 
 desire of Mrs. Hutcheson, added to the six trustees 
 before mentioned. 
 
 The school, founded for the education and full 
 clothing of fourteen poor girls of the town of King's 
 Cliffe, was set up by Mr. Wm. Law, in the year of 
 our Lord, one thousand seven hundred and twenty- 
 seven, with a salary for a mistress well qualified to in- 
 struct them in reading, knitting, and .every useful 
 kind of needle-work. 
 
 He hath since built a school-house and school, and 
 also two little tenements adjoining to the schools, to be 
 inhabited separately by two poor ancient unmarried 
 women or widows, of the town of King's Clifie, with a 
 weekly allowance hereafter mentioned. 
 
 For the perpetual support of these charities, he, the 
 said \V. Law, hath conveyed for ever in trust, to G. 
 Lynn, of Southwick ; to D. O'Brien, of Blatherwick ; 
 to W. Pain King, of Fineshade, Esqs., and to the Rev 
 C. Bates, of Easton ; to the Rev. W. Piemont, Rector 
 
XIV SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 of King's Ciiile ; to T. Jackson, of Duddington; Gent., 
 and to George Law, of jMorehay, Gent. 
 
 1. The aforesaid scliool and school-house, and the 
 two little adjoining- tenements. 
 
 2. One moiety of a certain number of closes atNor- 
 thope, in Lincolnshire, let for fifty-four pounds per 
 annum. 
 
 The gross annual income arising at present. Anno 
 1813, from Mr. Law's portion of the estates, amounts 
 to sixty-nine pounds. 
 
 The gross annual income arising at present from 
 Mrs. Hutcheson's portion of the estates, amounts to 
 three hundred and eight pounds, eighteen shillings^ 
 and sixpence. 
 
 £. s. d. 
 
 Mr. Law's 69 
 
 Mrs. Hutcheson's 308 18 6 
 
 ^377 18 6 
 
 The rise of rent, from fifty-four to sixty-nine 
 pounds, at the end of fifty years, must appear small, 
 when the increased price of the products of all lands is 
 taken into consideration. 
 
 Mrs. Hutcheson died in January, 1781, aged 91. 
 
 Mrs. Gibbon died in June, 1790, aged 86. 
 
 The remains of Mr. Law were placed in a tomb 
 built by Mrs. Gibbon. 
 
 When Mrs. Hutcheson died, her remains were 
 placed, by her particular desire, at the feet of Mr. Law, 
 in a new tomb. 
 
 Mrs, Gibbon was interred with Mr. Law. 
 
 \_See a more full and complete Life of the Author, 
 unth Extracts from his Works. By R. Tighe. 8vo. 
 1813. Sold by Hatchdrd, Piccadilli/.'] 
 
THE REV, W. LAW. XV 
 
 Testimony concerning Mr. Law, by Edward Gibbon, 
 Esq. ( Vide Memoirs.) 
 
 " A LIFE of devotion and celibacy was tlie choice of 
 my aunt, Mrs. Hester Gibbon, who at the age of 
 eighty-five still resides in a hermitage at Chlte, in 
 Northamptonshire, having- long- survived her spiritual 
 guide and faithful companion, Mr. William Law, wiio 
 at an advanced age, about the year 1761, died in her 
 house. In our family he had left the reputation of a 
 worthy and pious man, who believed all that he pro- 
 fessed, and practised all that he enjoyed. The charac- 
 ter of a non-juror, which he maintained to the last, is 
 a sufficient evidence of his principles in church and 
 state, and the sacrifice of interest to conscience will be 
 always respectable. His theological writings, which 
 our domestic connexion has tempted me to peruse, 
 preserve an imperfect sort of life, and I can pronounce 
 with more confidence and knowledge on the merits of 
 the author. His last compositions ********** 
 *********, and his discourse on the absolute un- 
 lawfulness of stage entertainments **********. 
 But these sallies ****** must not extin2:uish the 
 praise which is due to Mr. Wm. Law, as a wit and a 
 scholar. His arguments are specious and acute ; his 
 manner is lively ; his style, forcible and clear : — had not 
 his vigorous mind been clouded by enthusiasm, he might 
 be ranked with the mostag-reeable and ingenious writers 
 of the times. While the Bangorian controversy was a 
 fashionable theme, he entered the lists on the subject 
 of Christ's kingdom, and the authority of the priest- 
 hood Against the Plain Account of the Sacrament 
 of the Lord's Supper, he resumed the combat with 
 Bishop Hoadley, the object of Whig idolatry, and 
 Tory abhorrence ; and, at every weapon of attack and 
 defence, the noii-juror, on the ground which is com- 
 mon to both, approves himself at least equal to the 
 prelate. On the appearance of the Fable of the 
 
XVI SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Bees, he drew his pen against the Hcentious doctrine, 
 that private vices are pubhc benefits, and moraht}^, as 
 well as religion, must join in his applause. Mr. 
 Law's master-work, tiie Serious Call, is still read as a 
 popular and powerful book of devotion. His precepts 
 are rigid, but they are founded on the gospel ; his 
 satire is sharp, but is drawn from the knowledge of 
 human life ; and many of liis portraits are not unwor- 
 thy the pen of La Bruyere. If he finds a spark of 
 piety in his reader's mind, he will soon kindle it to a 
 flame ; and a philosopher must allow, that he exposes, 
 with equal severity and truth, the strange contradic- 
 tion between the faith and practice of the Christian 
 world. Under the names of Flavia and Miranda, he 
 admirably describes my two aunts, the heathen and 
 the Christian sister." 
 
 Such is the character this famous historian is com- 
 pelled, by the spirit of truth, to give to the piety and 
 goodness of Mr. Law :-^the list of his works, which 
 we now insert, together with two excellent letters 
 from clergymen in the established church, referring to 
 them and him, is taken from the Gent. Mag. Nov. 
 1800. 
 
 His works are, 
 
 L A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, 
 adapted to the State and Condition of all Orders of 
 Christians. 8vo. and 12mo. 
 
 2. A Practical Treatise upon Christian Perfection. 
 8vo. and 12mo. 
 
 3. Three Letters to the Bishop of Bangor. 8vo. 
 
 4. Remarks upon a late Book, entitled, " The Fa- 
 ble of the Bees ; or. Private Vices Public Benefits." 
 8vo. 
 
 5. Tlie absolute Unlawfulness of Stage Entertain- 
 ments fully Demonstrated. 8vo. , 
 
 6. The Case of Reason ; or. Natural Religion fair- 
 ly and fully Stated. 8vo. 
 
THE REY. W. LAW. XVll 
 
 7. An earnest an serious Answer to Dr. Trapp's 
 Discourse of the Folly, Sin, and Danger of being- 
 Righteous over much. 8vo. 
 
 8. The Grounds and Reasons of Christian Rege- 
 neration. 8vo, 
 
 9. A Demonstration of' the gross and fundamental 
 Errors of a late Book, called, " A plain Account of 
 the Nature and End of the Sacrament of the Lord's 
 Supper/' affectionately addressed to all Orders of 
 Men, and more especially to all the younger Clergy. 
 8vo. 
 
 10. An Appeal to all that doubt or disbelieve the 
 Truths of the Gospel. 8vo. 
 
 11. The Spirit of Prayer ; or, the Soul rising out of 
 the Vanity of Time into the Riches of Eternity. 1q 
 Two Parts. 8vo. and 12mo. 
 
 12. The Spirit of Love. In 2 Parts. 8vo. and 12mo. 
 
 13. The Way to Divine Knowledge; being several 
 Dialogues between Humanus, Academicus, Rusticus, 
 and Theopholus, as preparatory to a new Edition of 
 the Works of Jacob Behmen, and the Right Use of 
 them. 8vo. 
 
 14. A short but sufficient Confutation of the Rev. 
 Dr. Warburton's projected Defence (as he calls it) of 
 Christianity, in his Divine Legation of Moses. In a 
 Letter to the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of London. 
 
 15. A Collection of Letters on the most interesting 
 and important Subjects, and on several Occasions. 
 8vo. 
 
 16. Of Justification by Faith and Works ; a Dia- 
 logue between a Methodist and a Churchman. 8vo. 
 
 17. An humble, earnest, and affectionate Address 
 to the Clergy. 8vo. 
 
 His Works, making in all 9 vol. 8vo. 
 
•'^VllI SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Scarborousih, December %\, 1771. 
 1. '' Sir, 
 
 *^ Sunt certa piacula, quce te 
 
 Ter pure lecto poterunt recreare libello.' Hor. 
 
 " As I have an universal love and esteem for all 
 mankind, so particnlarlj for my brethren of the esta- 
 blished church, of which I should think myself an un- 
 worthy member, did I not take all opportunities of 
 doing g^ood, according to the abilities with which God 
 has enabled me. But as I have ever thought a con- 
 cern for men's souls to be preferable to that of their 
 bodies; so I have, in a more special manner, extended 
 my charity to that better part. We live in an age 
 wherein numerous objects present themselves to our 
 view, that are destitute of every virtue that can make 
 them worthy of the divine favour ; and, consequently, 
 there never will be wanting occasions for exercising 
 ourselves in a laudable endeavour for their amend- 
 ment. I, for my own part, though I live (when at 
 home) in a small country village, have had sufficient 
 work upon my hands to bring my parishioners to any 
 tolerable degree of piety and goodness ; I preached and 
 laboured amongst them incessantly, and yet, after all, 
 was convinced my work had been as fruitless as casting 
 pearls before swine : the drunkard continued his noctur- 
 nal practices, and the voice of the swearer was still heard 
 in our streets. However, I was determined to leave 
 no means untried for bringing this profane and obdu- 
 rate people to a sense of their duty ; accordingly, I 
 purchased many religious books, and distributed them 
 amongst them ; but, alas ! I could perceive no visible 
 effects. In short, I had the grief to find that all ray 
 labour had proved in vain, and was ready to cry out 
 with St. Paul, Who is sufficient for these things ? 
 About this time, I happened to peruse a treatise of 
 Mr. Law's, intitled, " A Serious Call to a Devout and 
 Holy Life ;" with which (if I may be allowed the ex- 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. XIX 
 
 pression) I was so charmed and greatly edified, that I 
 resolved my flock should partake of the same spiritual 
 food : 1, therefore, gave to each person in my parish 
 one of those useful books, and charged them upon my 
 blessing- (for 1 consider them as my children) to care- 
 fully peruse the same. My perseverance was now 
 rewarded with success ; and 1 had the satisfaction of 
 beholding my people reclaimed, from a life of folly 
 and impiety, to a life of holiness and devotion. 
 
 " Before 1 conclude, 1 must beg leave to recom- 
 mend the afore-mentioned book to the persusal of all 
 your readers; and I heartily wish they may receive 
 as much benefit therefrom_, as those have who are 
 committed to my charge. 
 
 " This excellent treatise is wrote in a strong and 
 nervous style, and abounds with many new and sublime 
 thoughts : in a word, one may say of this book as Sir 
 Richard Steele did of a discourse of Dr. South's, that 
 it has in it whatever wit and wisdom can put together; 
 and 1 will venture to add, that whoever sits down 
 without prejudice, and attentively reads it throughout, 
 will rise up the wiser man and better Christian. 
 
 " It remains now only that I mention a word or 
 two concerning the author. This worthy clergyman 
 has been accused (by those lukewarm Christians, who 
 ridicule all degrees of piety that are above the com- 
 mon standards) of Methodism ; a charge as false as it 
 is cruel. I say not this as my own private opinion, 
 but from the testimony of several gentlemen of un- 
 doubted credit, who are acquainted with his manner of 
 life and conversation. Indeed, this is sufficiently de- 
 monstrated in many parts of this author's works, 
 particularly in his Three Letters to the Bishop of 
 Bangor, wherein he writes in vindication of the rites 
 and ceremonies of the church of England : all which 
 evidently declare the reverend author to be an ortho- 
 dox divine, and an indefatigable labourer in the Lord's 
 vineyard. 
 
 '* OuRANICJS." 
 
XX SOME ACCOUNT 0F 
 
 North Crawley, Februan) Gth, HVZ. 
 
 2. -Sir, '^ 
 
 " i perused the letter signed Oiiranius in your 
 paper* with that cordial couipiacency_, which every 
 faithful steward must feel, from observing,- the fur- 
 therance of his Master's interest ; and I devoutly wish, 
 that every other fellow-labourer was as assiduous in 
 sowing the good seed, as the enemy seems in sowing" 
 the tares. 
 
 " But white I approve and applaud Ouranius's zeal 
 in recommending- that excellent practical summary of 
 Christian duty, the Serious Call, I seem to regret the 
 limitation of it to that treatise alone, when to me it ap- 
 pears that a serious attention to those sublime tracts of 
 the same divinely-illuminated writer, " The Spirit of 
 Prayer," and " The Spirit of Love," would be pro- 
 ductive of at least equal advantages, especially at a 
 season w^hen the serpent is winding about, insinuating 
 his deadly poison in arrogant illustrations, and anti- 
 christian Family Bibles. 
 
 " To know whom we worship, to entertain proper 
 notions of God, is the first necessary principle of true 
 religion. And these volumes are calculated to convey 
 such exalted and amiable ideas of God, and to unfold, 
 in so rational and delightful a manner, the great mys- 
 teries of redemption and regeneration, that whoever 
 peruses them with candour and attention, will tind in 
 them a perfect key to the Holy Scriptures, " having 
 (if I may be allowed the sacred language) the glory of 
 God, and his light, like unto a stone most precious, 
 clear as crystal." And, beside informing his under- 
 standing, if they do not elevate his heart to an exalted 
 pitch of love and devotion to his great benefactor, 
 and cause it to overflow in streams of grateful benevo- 
 lence to all mankind, he must be among those obdu- 
 rate insensibles, who need our pity and our prayers. 
 
 * This afld the preceding Letter originally appeared in Lloyd's Evening Pu^. 
 
THE REV. Vf. LAW. XXI 
 
 " The happy effects here promised arc not the 
 mere speculative conjectures of fancy, for 1 have only 
 described what were my own feelings upon the same 
 occasion. And I will further venture to declare, that I 
 received more light and satisfaction from the perusal 
 of these little volumes, than I had been able to extract 
 from many volumes of letter-learned commentators, 
 darkened illustrations, and bodies ofdivinity, which I had 
 before carefully read with the same temper and desire. 
 
 " I am so far in the same unfortunate predicament 
 with Ouranius, never to have enjoyed the blessedness 
 of that holy man's conversation ; but I have it well 
 authenticated that he faithfully practised what he 
 taught; or, in Burkitt's words, that his was " a preach- 
 ing life, as well as a preaching doctrine." And that 
 pious disregard and contempt of the riches and ho- 
 nours of the world, which he so pathetically recom- 
 mends to others, himself eminently displayed in refu- 
 sing' some of the best preferments in ihe Bishop of 
 London's gift, when proferred by his friend. Dr. Sher- 
 lock, in reward of the unanswerable letters to the 
 Bishop of Bangor. 
 
 " The charge of Methodism I never heard insinu- 
 ated against him, and could proceed only from those 
 who must be totally ignorant of the tenets of that sect, 
 or unacquainted with any among the writings of our 
 able defender of church discipline and autliority, and 
 especially of the last except one, " On Justification by 
 Faith and Works." 
 
 '' But not to leave myself liable to reprehension for 
 the partiality I have noticed in another, 1 am persuad- 
 ed, that whoever has imbibed knowledge at this pure 
 fountain will never cease thirsting while there remains 
 a drop of the sacred spring untasted. xVnd that 
 every scrip of that divinely-directed pen may be as ex- 
 tensive as was the writer's benevolence, is the ardent 
 prayer of your sincere well-wisher. 
 
 '' Theophilus." 
 • Your's, &c. Yj. Cozens. 
 
 b3 
 
XXll SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 The following are the Author's Letters to a friend : — 
 
 LETTER L 
 
 Worthy and dear Sir, 
 
 My heart embraces you with all the tenderness and 
 affection of Christian love ; and 1 earnestly beg of God 
 to make me a messenger of his peace to your soul. 
 
 You seem to apprehend 1 may be much surprised 
 at the account you have given of yourself But, Sir, 
 I am neither surprised nor oii'ended at it. I neither 
 condemn nor lament your state; but shall endeavour 
 to shew you, how soon it may be made a blessing and 
 happiness to you. In order to which, 1 shall not en- 
 ter into a consideration of the different kinds of trouble 
 you have set forth at large ; I think it better to lay be- 
 fore you the one true ground and root, from whence 
 all the evil and disorders of human life have sprung. 
 This will make it easy for you to see what that is, 
 which must and only can be the full remedy and relief 
 for all of them, how different soever, either in kind or 
 degree. 
 
 The Scripture has assured us, that God made man 
 in his own image and likeness ; a sufficient proof that 
 man, in his first state, as he came forth from God, 
 must have been absolutely free from all vanity, want, 
 or distress of any kind, from any thing, either within 
 or without him. It would be quite absurd and blas- 
 phemous to suppose, that a creature, beginning to 
 exist in the image and likeness of God, should have a 
 vanity of life, or vexation of spirit. A god-like per- 
 fection of nature, and a painful distressed nature, 
 stand in the utmost contrariety to one another. 
 
 Again ; the Scripture has assured us, that man that 
 is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and' 
 is full of misery ; therefore, man now is not that crea- 
 ture that he was by his creation. The first divine and 
 god-like nature of Adam, which was to have been kn- 
 mortally holy in union with God, is lost ; and, instead 
 of it, a poor mortal of earthly flesh and blood, born like 
 
THE REV. W. LXVf. XXlll 
 
 a >vild ass's colt, of a short life, and full of misery, is, 
 through a vain pilgrimage, to end in dust and ashes. 
 Therefore, let every evil, whether inward or outward, 
 only teach you this truth— that man has infallibly lost 
 his first divine life in God ; and that no possible com- 
 fort, or deliverance, is to be expected, but only in this 
 one thing — that though man had lost his God, yet God 
 is become man, that man may be again alive in God, 
 as at his first creation. For all the misery and dis- 
 tress of human nature, whether of body or mind, is 
 wholly owing to this one cause — that God is not in 
 man, nor man in God, as the state of his nature re- 
 quires ; it is because man has lost that first life of God 
 in his soul, in and for which he was created. He lost 
 this light, and spirit, and life of God, by turning his 
 will, imagination, and desire, into a tasting and sensi- 
 bility of the good and evil of this earthly, bestial 
 world. 
 
 Now, here are two things raised up in man, instead 
 of the life of God ;— first, self, or selfishness, brought 
 forth by his choosing to have a wisdom of his own, 
 contrary to the will and instruction of his Creator; 
 secondly, an earthly, bestial, mortal life and body, 
 brought forth by his eating that food, which was poi- 
 son to his paradisaical nature. But these must, there-* 
 fore, be removed : that is, a man must first totally die 
 to self, and all earthly desires, views, and intentions, be- 
 fore he can be again in God, as his nature and first 
 creation requires. 
 
 But now, if this be a certain and immutable truth, 
 that man, so long as he is a selfish, earthly-minded 
 creature, must be deprived of his true life, the life of 
 God, the spirit of heaven in his soul ; then how is the 
 face of things changed ! for then, what life is so much 
 to be dreaded as a life of worldly ease and prosperity ? 
 what a misery, nay, what a curse, is there in every 
 thing that gratifies and nourishes our self-love, self- 
 esteem, and self-seeking ? On the other hand, what 
 a happiness is there in all inward and outward trou- 
 
 b4 
 
XXIV SOME ACtOUNT OP 
 
 bles and vexations, when they force us ib feel and 
 know the hell that is hidden within us, and the vanity 
 of every thing- without us; when they turn our self- 
 love into self-abhorrence, and force us to call upon 
 God, to save us froir. ourselves, to giv€ us a new life, 
 new lig'ht, and new spirit in Christ Jesus. 
 
 O ^lappy famine! might the poor prodigal have 
 well said, which by reducing me to the necessity of 
 asking to eat husks with swine, brought me to myself, 
 and caused my return to my first happiness, in my 
 father's house. 
 
 Now, Sir, I will suppose your distressed state to be 
 as you represent it ; inwardly, darkness, heaviness, 
 and confusion of thoughts and passions ; outwardly, 
 ill-usage from friends, relations, and all the world ; 
 Tinable to strike up the least spark of light or comfort, 
 by any thought or reasoning of your own. 
 
 O happy famine, which leaves you not so much as 
 the husk of one human comfort to feed upon ! For, 
 my dear friend, this is the time and place for all that 
 good, and life, and salvation, to happen to you, which 
 happened to the prodigal son. Your way is as short, 
 and your success as certain, as his was. You have no 
 more to do than he had. You need not call out for 
 books and methods of devotion : for, in your present 
 state, much reading and borrowed prayers are not 
 your best method. All that you are to offer to God, 
 all that is lo help you to find him to be your Saviour 
 and Redeemer, is best taught and expressed by the 
 distressed state of your heart. 
 
 Only let your present and past distress make you 
 feel and acknowledge this two-tbid great truth : first, 
 that in and of yourself you are nothing but darkness^ 
 vanity, and misery. Secotidly, that, of yourself, you 
 can no more help yourself to light and comfort, than 
 you can create an angel. People, at all times, can 
 seem to assent to these two truths ; but then it is an 
 assent that has no depth or reality, and so is of little or 
 no use. But your condition has opened your heart 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. XXf 
 
 for a deep and full conviction of these truths. Now 
 give wi\y, 1 beseech you, to this conviction, and hold 
 these two truths in the same degree of certainty, as 
 you know two and two to be four ; and then, my dear 
 friend, you are, with the prodigal, come to yourself; 
 and above half your work, is done. 
 
 Being- now in the full possession of these two 
 truths, feeling them in the same degree of certainty 
 as you feel your own existence, you are under this 
 sensibility to give yourself absolutely and entirely to 
 God in Christ Jesus, as into the hands of infinite love ; 
 firmly believing this great and infallible truth, that 
 God has no will towards you, but that of infinite love, 
 and infinite desire to make you a partaker of his divine 
 nature; and that it is as absolutely impossible for the 
 Father of our Lord Jesus Christ to refuse you all that 
 good," and life, and salvation, which you want, as it is 
 for you to take it by your own power. 
 
 O! Sir, drink deep of this cup; for the precious 
 water of eternal life is in it. Turn unto God with this 
 faith ; cast yourself into this abyss of love ; and then 
 you will be in that state the prodigal was in, when he 
 said, I will arise and go to my father ; and will say 
 unto him. Father, I have sinned against heaven, and 
 before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy 
 son : — and all that will be fulfilled in you which is re- 
 lated of him. 
 
 Make this, therefore, the two-fold exercise of your 
 heart : now^ bowing yourself down before God, in the 
 deepest sense and acknowledgment of your own no- 
 thingness and vileness ; then, looking up to God in 
 faith and love, consider him as always extending the 
 arms of his mercy towards you, and full of an infinite 
 desire to dwell in you, as he dwells in the angels in 
 heaven. Content yourself with this inward and sim- 
 ple exercise of your heart, for a while ; and seek, or 
 like nothing in any book, but that which nourishes 
 and strengthens this state of your heart. 
 
 Come unto me, says the holy Jesus^ all ye that la- 
 
XXYl SOME ACCOUNT OF 
 
 bour and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. 
 Here, my dear friend, is more for you to live upon, 
 more light for your mind, more of unction for your 
 heart, than in volumes of human instruction. Pick 
 up the words of the holy Jesus, and beg of him to be 
 the light and life of your soul. Love the sound of 
 his name ; for Jesus is the love, the sweetness, the 
 meekness, the compassionate goodness of the deity 
 itself; which became man, that so men might have 
 power to become the sons of God. Love, pity, ancf 
 wish well to every soul in the world ; dwell in love, 
 and then you dwell in God : hate nothing but the evil 
 that stirs in your own heart. 
 
 Teach your heart this prayer, till your heart conti- 
 nually saith, though not with outward words : " O, 
 holy Jesus ! meek Lamb of God! Bread that came 
 down from heaven ! Light and Life of all holy souls ! 
 help me to a true and living faith in thee. O ! do 
 thou open thyself within me, with all thy holy nature, 
 spirit, tempers, and inclinations, that I may be born 
 again of thee; and be in thee a new creature, quick- 
 ened and revived, led and governed by thy Holy 
 Spirit." 
 
 Your's in all Christian affection, 
 
 W. LAW. 
 
 LETTER H. 
 
 Ml/ dear worthy Friend, July 20. 
 
 Whom I heartily love in the unity of the Spirit of 
 Christ. Your long letter I received some time the 
 last month, and read with much pleasure. For, long 
 as it was, I did not wish it to be shorter. I bless God 
 for that good and right spirit, which breathed in every 
 part of it. As it required no immediate answer, and 
 you left me to my own time, so I did not intend to 
 write till last week; but, by accidental affairs, have 
 been hindered from complying with my intention till 
 now. 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. XXVll 
 
 Your judgment has failed you in nothing, but in 
 thinking your letter would be disagreeable to me ; or 
 that my answer was deferred on that account. Every 
 creature has my love ; but persons of your spirit 
 kindle in me every holy affection of honour and esteem 
 towards them. Love, with its fruits of meekness, pa- 
 tience, and humility, is all that I wish for myself and 
 every human creature; for this is to live in God, 
 united to him, both for time and eternity. Would 
 you have done with error, scruple, and delusion, con- 
 sider the Deity (as I have said) to be the greatest love, 
 the greatest meekness, the greatest sweetness; the 
 eternal unchangeable will to be a good and blessing 
 to every creature ; and that all the misery, darkness, 
 and death of fallen angels, and fallen men, consists ia 
 their having lost this divine nature. Consider your- 
 self, and all the fallen world, as having nothing to seek 
 or wish for, but, by the spirit of prayer, to draw into 
 the life of your soul rays and sparks of this divine, 
 meek, loving, tender nature of God. Consider the 
 holy Jesus as the gift of God to your soul, to begin 
 and finish the birth of God and heaven within you, in 
 spite of every inward or outward enemy. These three 
 infallible truths, heartily embraced, and made the 
 nourishment of your soul, shorten and secure the way 
 to heaven, and leave no room for error, scruple, or 
 delusion. The poverty of our fallen nature, the de- 
 praved workings of flesh and blood, the corrupt tem- 
 pers of our polluted birth in this world, do us no hurt, 
 so long as the spirit of prayer works contrary to them, 
 and longs for the first birth of the light and spirit of 
 heaven. 
 
 All our natural evil ceases to be our own evil, as 
 soon as our will-spirit turns from it : it then changes 
 its nature, loses all its poison and death, and only be- 
 comes our holy cross, on which we happily die from 
 self and this world into the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 I must congratulate you on your manner of prayer : 
 so practised, it becomes the life of the soul, and the 
 
XXVIII SOME ACCOUNT OP 
 
 true food of eternity. Keep in this state of applica- 
 tion to God, and then you will infallibly find it to be 
 the way of rising out of the vanity of time into the 
 riches of eternity. 
 
 Do not expect or look for the same degrees of sen- 
 sible fervour. — The matter lies not there. Nature 
 will have its share ; but the ups and downs of that are 
 to be overlooked. — Whilst your will-spirit is good, 
 and set right, the changes of creaturely fervour lessen 
 not your union with God. It is the abyss of the heart, 
 an unfathomable depth of eternity within us, as much 
 above sensible fervour as heaven is above earth ; it is 
 this that works our way to God and unites us with 
 heaven. This abyss of tlie heart is the divine nature 
 and power within us, which never calls upon God in 
 vain; but, whether helped or deserted by bodily fer- 
 vour, penetrates through ail outward nature, as easily 
 and elfectually as our thoughts can leave onr bodies_, 
 and reach into the regions of eternity. — 1 am, with 
 hearty prayers to God for you, your truly affectionate 
 friend and servant, 
 
 W. LAW. 
 
 LETTER in. 
 
 Ml/ dear L- 
 
 ■'1 AM greatly rejoiced at your expressing so feeling 
 a sense of the benefit of prayer; and hope you will 
 every day be more and more raised to, and united with 
 God, by it. 
 
 1 love no mysterious depths or heights of specula- 
 tion, covet no knowledge, want to see no ground of 
 nature, grace, and creature; but so far as it brings 
 me nearer to God, forces me to forget and renounce 
 every thing for him, to do every thing in him, and for 
 him ; and to give every breathing, moving, stirring 
 intention and desire of my heart, soul, spirit, and life 
 to him. 
 
 It is for the sake of the spirit of prayer that I have 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. XXIX 
 
 Endeavoured to set so many points of religion in such 
 a view as must dispose the reader, willingly, to give up 
 all that he inherits from his fallen father; to be all 
 hunger and thirst after God, and have no thought or 
 care but how to be wholly his devoted instrument 
 every where ; and, in every thing, his adoring, joyful, 
 and thankful servant. 
 
 When it is the one-ruiing, never-ceasing desire of 
 our hearts, that God may be the beginning and end, 
 the reason and motive, of our doing or^iot doing, from 
 morning to night; then every where, whether speak- 
 ing or silent, whether inwardly or outwardly employ- 
 ed, we are equally offered up to the eternal Spirit — 
 have our life in him and from him, and are united to 
 him by that spirit of prayer, which is the comfort, the 
 support, the strength, and security of the soul ; travel- 
 ling, by the help of God, through the vanityof time 
 into the riches of eternity. 
 
 j\iy dear friend, have eyes shut and ears stopped to 
 every thing that is not a step in that ladder that reaches 
 from earth to heaven. 
 
 Reading is good, hearing is good, conversation and 
 meditation are good : but then they are only good at 
 times and occasions, in a certain degree; and must 
 be used and governed with such caution, as we eat 
 and drink, and refresh ourselves, or they will bring 
 forth in us the fruits of intemperance. 
 
 But the spirit of prayer is for all times and all oc- 
 casions ; it is a lamp that is to be always burning — a 
 light that is ever shining: everything calls for it — 
 every thing is to be done in it, and governed by it. 
 Because it is, and means, and wills nothing else, but 
 the totality of the soul: not doing this, or that; but 
 wholly, incessantly given up to God, to be where, and 
 what, and how he pleases. 
 
 The state of absolute resignation, naked faith, and 
 pure love of God, is the highest perfection and most 
 purified life of those who are born again from above, 
 and, through the divine power, become sons of God ; 
 
XX'X SOME ACCOUNT OS" 
 
 and is neither more nor less than what our blessed 
 Redeemer has called and qualified us to long and as- 
 pire after, in these words : '' Thy kingdom come, thy 
 will be done on earth, as in heaven." 
 
 Near the conclusion of your's, you say, since your 
 last to me, you have met with a great many trials dis- 
 agreeable to flesh and blood, but that adhering to God 
 is always your blessed relief. 
 
 Yet permit me on this occasion, to transcribe a me- 
 morandum or t^vo from an old scrap of paper, which 
 has long lain by me for my own use. 
 
 1. Receive every inward and outward trouble — - 
 every disappointment, pain, uneasiness, darkness, 
 temptation, and desolation, with both thy hands, as a 
 true opportunity and blessed occasion of dying to self, 
 and entering into a fuller fellowship with thy self-de- 
 nying, sutfering Saviour. 
 
 2. Look at no inward or outward trouble, in any 
 other view — reject every other thought about it; and 
 then every kind of trial and distress will become the 
 blessed day of thy prosperity. 
 
 3. Be afraid of seeking or finding comfort in any 
 thing but God alone ; for that which gives thee com- 
 fort takes so much of thy heart from God. " Quid 
 est cor purum ? cui extoto, et pure sufficit solus Deus, 
 cui nihil sapit, quod nihil delectat, nisi Deus." That 
 is. What is a pure heart? One to which God alone 
 is totally and purely sufficient ; to which nothing re- 
 lishes or gives delight but God alone. 
 
 4. That state is best, wliich exerciseth the highest 
 faith in, and fullest resignation to God. 
 
 5. What is it that you want and seek, but that God 
 may be all in all in you ? But how can this be, unless 
 all creaturcly good and evil become as nothing in you 
 and to you? 
 
 " Oh anima mea, abstrahe te ab omnibus. Quid 
 tibi cum mutabilibus creaturis? Solum sponsum 
 tuum, qui omnium est author creaturarum, expectans, 
 hoc age, ut cor tuum ille liberum et expeditum sem- 
 
THE REV. W. LAW. XXXI 
 
 per inveniat quoties illi ad ipsura venire placuerit." 
 That is, " O my soul ! withdraw thyself from all 
 things. What hast thou to do with changeable crea- 
 tures? Waiting and expecting thy Bridegroom, who 
 is the author of all creatures, let it be thy only care, 
 that he may find thy heart free and disengaged as of- 
 ten as it shall please him to visit thee." 
 
 I thank you for your kind offer about the manuscript 
 in the sale, but have no curiosity that way. I have 
 had all that I can have from books : I leave the rest 
 to God. I have formerly given away many of the 
 lives oi good Armelle, so can have no dislike to your 
 doing the same. I have often wished for some, or 
 several little things of that kind, though more accord- 
 ing to my mind ; by which the meanest capacities might, 
 in an easy manner, be led into the heart and spirit of 
 
 religion. 
 
 Dear man, adieu. 
 
XXXii SOME ACCOUNT, &C, 
 
 THE ANGELS' HYMN. 
 
 Said to have been sung hy the late Rev. W. LaWy when on his 
 Death Bed. 
 
 Thus angels sang;, and thus sing we. 
 To God on high all glory be ! 
 Let him on earth his peace bestow. 
 And unto men his favour shew. 
 
 Welcome, sweet words ! sweet words, indeed ! 
 
 In darkness, light through them is spied; 
 Whate'er is needless, these we need : 
 
 Lord, let these words with us abide. 
 
 This day sets forth thy praises. Lord ; 
 
 Our grateful hearts to thee shall sing. 
 Our thankful lips now shall record 
 
 Thine ancient love, eternal King ! 
 
 And let the church with one accord. 
 Resound amen, and praise the Lord. 
 
 Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 
 
 Hallelujuh! Hallelujah! 
 
SERIOUS CALL 
 
 TO A 
 
 DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Concerning the Nature and Extent of Christian 
 Devotion. 
 
 xJevotion is neither private nor public prayer ; but 
 pmyers^ whether private or public^ are particular 
 parts or instances of devotion. Devotion signifies a 
 life given or devoted to God. 
 
 He, therefore, is the devout man, who lives no 
 longer to his own will, or the way and spirit of the 
 world, but to the sole will of God ; who considers God 
 in every thing, who serves God in every thing, who 
 makes all the parts of his common life parts of piety, 
 by doing every thing in the name of God, and under 
 such rules as are conformable to his glory. 
 
 We readily acknowledge that God alone is to be 
 the rule and measure of our prayers, that in them we 
 are to look wholly unto him, and act wholly for him ; 
 that we are only lo pray in such a manner for such 
 things, and such ends, as are suitable to his glory. 
 
 INow, let any one but find out the reason why he is 
 to be thus strictly pious in his prayers, and he will 
 find the same as strong a reason to be as strictly pious 
 in all the other parts of his life. For there is not the 
 least shadow of a reason why we should make God the 
 rule and measure of our prayers, why we should 
 then look wholly unto him, and pray according to his 
 will; but what equally proves it necessary for us to 
 
^ A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 look wholly unto God, and make him the rule and mea- 
 sure of all the other actions of our life. ^ For any ways 
 of life, any employment of our talents, whether of 
 our parts, our time, or money, that is not strictly ac- 
 cording* to the will of God, that is not for such ends as 
 are suitable to his glory, are as great absurdities and 
 failing's as prayers that are not according to the will 
 of God. For there is no other reason why our pray- 
 ers should be according to the will of God, why they 
 should have nothing in them but what is wise, and 
 holy, and heavenly, there is no other reason for this, 
 but that our lives may be of the same nature, full of 
 the same wisdom, holiness, and heavenly tempers, that 
 we may live unto God in the same spirit that we pray 
 unto him. Were it not our strict duty to live by rea- 
 son, to devote all the actions of our lives to God ; 
 were it not absolutely necessary to walk before him in 
 wisdom, and holiness, and all heavenly conversation, 
 doing every thing in his name, and for his glory, there 
 would be no excellency or wisdom in the most heaven- 
 ly prayers. Nay, such prayers would be absurdities ; 
 they would be like prayers for wings when it was no 
 part of our duty to fly. 
 
 As sure, therefore, as there is any wisdom in pray- 
 ing for the Spirit o-f God, so sure is it that we are to 
 make that Spirit the rule of all our actions ; as sure as 
 it is our duty to look wholly unto God in our prayers, 
 so sure is it that it is our duty to live wholly unto God 
 in our lives. But we can no more be said to live unto 
 God, unless we live unto him in all the ordinary actions 
 of our life, unless he be the rule and measure of all our 
 ways, than we can be said to pray unto God, unless 
 our prayers look wholly unto him. So that unreason- 
 able and absurd ways of life, whether in labour or di- 
 version, whether they consume our time or our money, 
 are like unreasonable and absurd prayers, and are as 
 truly an often ce unto God. 
 
 It is for want of knowing, or at least considering 
 this, that we see such a mixture of ridicule in the lives 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 
 
 of many people. You see them strict as to some times 
 and places of devotion ; but when the service of the 
 church is over, they are bnt like those that seldom or 
 never come there. In tlieir way of life, their manner 
 of spending- their time and money, in their cares and 
 fears, in their pleasures and indulgences, in their la- 
 bours and diversions, they arc like the rest of the 
 world. This makes the loose part of the world gene- 
 rally make a jest of those that are devout, because they 
 see their devotion goes no further than their prayers, 
 and that when they ai'e over, they live no more unto 
 God till the time of prayer returns again, but live by 
 the same humour and fancy, and in as full an enjoy- 
 ment of all the follies of life, as other people. This is 
 the reason why they are the jest and scorn of careless 
 and worldly people ; not because they are really de- 
 voted to God, but because they appear to have no 
 other devotion but that of occasional prayers. 
 
 Julius is very fearful of missing prayers; all the 
 parish supposes Julius to be sick if he is not at church. 
 But if you were to ask him why he spends the rest of 
 his time by humour or chance? why he is a compa- 
 nion of the silliest people in their most silly pleasures ? 
 why he is ready for every impertinent entertainment 
 and diversion ? If you were to ask him why there is no 
 amusement too trifling to please him? why he is busy 
 at all balls and assemblies? why he gives himself up to 
 an idle gossiping' conversation? why he lives in fool- 
 ish friendships and fondness for particular persons^ 
 that neither want nor deserve any particular kindness? 
 why he allows himself in foolish hatreds and resent- 
 ments ag-ainst particular persons, without considering 
 that he is to love every body as himself? If you ask 
 him why he never puts his conversation, his time, and 
 fortune, under the rules of religion, Julius has no more 
 to say for himself than the most disorderly person. 
 For the whole tenor of scripture lies as directly against 
 such a life as against debauchery and intemperance. 
 He that lives in such a course of idleness and folly, 
 
 b3 
 
4 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 lives no move according- to the religion of Jesus Christ 
 than he that lives in gluttony and intemperance. 
 
 If a man was to tell Julius that there was no occa- 
 sion for so much constancy at prayers^ and that he 
 might without any harm to himself, neglect the service 
 of the churchy as the generality of people do^ Julius 
 would think such a one to be no Christian, and that he 
 ought to avoid his company. But, if a person only 
 tells him that he may live as the generality of the world 
 does, that he may enjoy himself as others do, that he 
 may spend his time and money as people of fashion 
 do, that he may conform to the follies and frailties of 
 the generality, and gratify his temper and passions as 
 most people do, Julius never suspects that man to 
 want a Christian spirit, or that he is doing the devil's 
 work. 
 
 And yet, if Julius was to read all the New Testa- 
 ment from the beginning to the end, he would find his 
 course of life condemned in every page of it. 
 
 And, indeed, there cannot be any thing imagined 
 more absurd in itself than wise, and sublime, and hea- 
 venly prayers, added to a life of vanity and folly, where 
 neither labour nor diversions, neither time nor money, 
 are under the direction of the wisdom and heavenly 
 tempers of our prayers. If we were to see a man pre- 
 tending to act wholly vfith regard to God in every 
 thing that he did, that would neither spend time nor 
 moneVj or take any labour or diverson, but so far as 
 he could act according to strict principles of reason 
 and piety, and yet at the same time neglect all prayer, 
 whether public or private, should we not be amazed 
 at such a man, and wonder how he could have so 
 much folly along with so much religion? 
 
 Yet this is as reasonable as for any person to pre- 
 tend to strictness in devotion, to be careful of observ- ' 
 ing times and places of prayer, and yet letting the rest 
 of his life, his time, and labour, his talents and money, 
 be disposed of, without any regard to strict rules of 
 piety and devotion ; for it is as great an absurdity to 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. O 
 
 suppose holy prayers, and divine petitions,, without an 
 hoUness of life suitable to them^ as to suppose an holy 
 and divine life without prayers. 
 
 Let any one, therefore, think how easily he could 
 confute a man that pretended to great strictness of 
 life without prayer, and the same arguments will as 
 plainly confute another that pretends to strictness of 
 prayer, without carrying the same strictness into every 
 other part of life. For to be weak and foolish in 
 spending our time and fortune, is no greater a mis- 
 take than to be weak and foolish in relation to our 
 prayers. And to allow ourselves, in any ways of life, 
 that neither are nor can be oftered to God, is the same 
 irreligion as to neglect our prayers, or use them in 
 such a manner as makes them an offering unworthy of 
 God. 
 
 The short of the matter is this — either reason and 
 religion prescribe rules and ends to all the ordinary 
 actions of our life, or they do not : if they do, then it 
 is as necessary to govern all our actions by those rules 
 as it is necessary to worship God. For if religion 
 teaches us any thing concerning eating and drinking, 
 or spending our time and money ; if it teaches us how 
 we are to use and contemn the world ; if it tells us what 
 tempers we are to have in common life, how we are to 
 be disposed towards all people, how we are to behave 
 towards the sick, the poor, the old, and destitute ; if 
 it tells us whom we are to treat with a particular love, 
 whom we are to regard with a particular esteem ; if 
 it tells us how we are to treat our enemies, and how 
 we are to mortify and deny ourselves ; he must be 
 very weak that can think these parts of religion are 
 not to be observed with as much exactness as any 
 doctrine that relates to prayers. 
 
 It is very observable, that there is not one command 
 
 in all the gospel for public worship : and perhaps it is 
 
 .a duty that is least insisted upon in scripture of any 
 
 other. The frequent attendance at it is never so 
 
 much as mentioned in all the New Testament ; where- 
 
 b3 
 
b A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 as that religion or devotion, which is to govern the or- 
 dinary actions of our life, is to be found in almost 
 every verse of scripture. Our blessed Saviour and his 
 apostles are wholly taken up in doctrines that relate 
 to common life. They call us to renounce the world, 
 and differ in every temper and way of life from the spi- 
 rit and way of the world ; to renounce all its goods, to 
 fear none of its evils, to reject its joys, and to have no 
 value for its happiness ; to be as new-born babes that 
 are born into a new state of things, to live as pilgrims 
 in spiritual watching, in holy fear, and heavenly aspir- 
 ing after another life ; to take up our daily cross, to 
 deny ourselves, to profess the blessedness of mourning, 
 to seek the blessedness of poverty of spirit ; to forsake 
 the pride and vanity of riches, to take no thought for 
 the morrow, to live in the profoundest state of humili- 
 ty, to rejoice in worldly sufferings ; to reject the lust 
 of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life ; 
 to bear injuries, to forgive and bless our enemies, and 
 to love mankind as God loveth them ; to give up our 
 whole hearts and affections to God, and strive to enter 
 through the strait gate into a life of eternal glory. 
 
 This is the common devotion which our blessed Sa- 
 viour taught, in order to make it the common life of 
 all Christians. Is it not, therefore, exceeding strange 
 that people should place so much piety in the attend- 
 ance of public worship, concerning which there is not 
 one precept of our Lord's to be found, and yet neglect 
 these common duties of our ordinary life, which are 
 commanded in every page of the gospel ? I call these 
 duties the devotion of our common life ; because if 
 they are to be practised, they must be made parts of 
 our common life, they can have no place any where 
 else. 
 
 If contempt of the world and heavenly affection is a 
 necessary temper of Christians, it is necessary that this 
 temper appear in the whole course of their lives, in 
 their manner of using the world, because it can have 
 no place any where else. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 7 
 
 If self-denial be a condition of salvation^ all that 
 would be saved must make it a part of their ordinary 
 life. If humility be a Christian duty^ then the com- 
 mon life of a Christian is to be a constant course of 
 humility in all its kinds. If poverty of spirit be ne- 
 cessary, it must be the spirit and temper of every day 
 of our lives. If we are to relieve the naked^ the sick^ 
 and the prisoner, it must be the common charity of our 
 lives, as far as we can render ourselves able to per- 
 form it. If we are to love our enemies, we must make 
 our common life a visible exercise and demonstration 
 of that love. If content and thankfulness, if the pa- 
 tient bearing of evil be duties to God, they are the 
 duties of every day, and in every circumstance of our 
 life. If we are to be wise and holy as the new-born 
 sons of God, we can no otherwise be so, but by re- 
 nouncing" every thing- that is foolish and vain in every 
 part of our common life. If we are to be in Christ 
 new creatures, we must shew that we are so by having; 
 new ways of living in the world. If we are to follow 
 Christ, it must be in our common way of spending 
 every day. 
 
 Thus it is in all the virtues and holy tempers of 
 Christianity ; they are not ours, unless they be the 
 virtues and tempers of our ordinary life. So that 
 Christianity is so far from leaving us to live in the com- 
 mon ways of life, conforming to the folly of customs, 
 and gratifying the passions and tempers which the 
 spirit of the world delights in ; it is so far from in- 
 dulging us in any of these things, that all its virtues 
 which it makes necessary to salvation are only so 
 many ways of living above, and contrary to, the world 
 in all the common actions of our life. If our common 
 life is not a common course of humility, self-denial, 
 renunciation of the world, poverty of spirit, and hea- 
 venly affection, we do not live the lives of Christians. 
 
 But yet though it is thus plain, that this and this 
 alone is Christianity, an uniform, open, and visible 
 practice of all these virtues ; yet it is as plain, thai 
 
 B 4 
 
8 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 there is little or nothing of this to be found, even 
 amongst the better sort of people. You see them 
 often at church, and pleased with fine preachers ; but 
 look into their lives, and you see them just the same 
 sort of people as others are that make no pretences to 
 devotion. The difference that you find betwixt them 
 is only the difference of their natural tempers. They 
 have the same taste of the world, the same worldly 
 cares, and fears, and joys ; they have the same turn 
 of mind, equally vain in their desires : You see the 
 same fondness for state and equipage, the same pride 
 and vanity of dress, the same self-love and indulgence, 
 the same foolish friendships and groundless hatreds,, 
 the same levity of mind and trifling spirit, the same 
 fondness for diversions, the same idle dispositions and 
 vain ways of spending their time in visiting and con- 
 versation, as the rest of the world that make no pre- 
 tences to devotion. 
 
 I do not mean this comparison betwixt people seem- 
 ingly good and professed rakes, but betwixt people of 
 sober lives. Let us take an instance in two modest 
 women : Let it be supposed that one of them is care- 
 ful of times of devotion, and observes them through a 
 sense of duty, and that the other has no hearty con- 
 cern about it, but is at church seldom or often, just as 
 it happens. Now, it is a very easy thing to see this 
 difference betwixt these persons. But when you have 
 seen this, can you find any further difference betwixt 
 them ? Can you find that their common life is of a dif- 
 ferent kind? Are not the tempers, and customs, and 
 manners of the one of the same kind as of the other? 
 Do they live as if they belonged to different worlds, 
 had different views in their heads, and different rules 
 and measures of all their actions? Have they not the 
 same goods and evils, are they not pleased and dis- 
 pleased in the same manner, and for the same things? 
 Do they not live in the same course of life ? Does one 
 seem to be of this world, looking at the things that 
 are temporal, and the other to be of another worlds 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. » 
 
 looking wholly at the things that are eternal? Does 
 the one live in pleasure, delighting herself in show or 
 dress, and the other live in self-denial and mortifica- 
 tion, renouncing every thing that looks like vanity ei- 
 ther of person, dress, or carriage? Does the one fol- 
 low public diversions, and trifle away her time in idle 
 visits and corrupt conversation ; and does the other 
 study all the arts of improving her time, living in 
 prayer and watching, and such good works as may 
 make all her time turn to her advantage, and be 
 placed to her account at the last day? Is the one 
 careless of expence, and glad to be able to adorn her- 
 self with every costly ornament of dress ; and does 
 the other consider her fortune as a talent given her by 
 God, which is to be improved religiously, and no more 
 to be spent in vain and needless ornaments than it is 
 to be buried in the earth ? 
 
 Where must you look to find one person of religion 
 differing in this manner from another that has none? 
 And yet, if they do not differ in these things which are 
 here related, can it with any sense be said the one is a 
 good Christian and the other not? 
 
 Take another instance amongst the men. Leo has 
 a great deal of good-nature, has kept what they call 
 good company, hates every thing that is false and 
 base, is very generous and brave to his friend ; but has 
 concerned himself so little with religion, that he hardly 
 knows the difference betwixt a Jew and a Christian. 
 
 Eusebius, on the other hand, has had early impres- 
 sions of religion, and buys books of devotion. He can 
 talk of all the feasts and fasts of the church, and 
 knows the names of most men that have been eminent 
 for piety. You never hear him swear, or make a 
 loose jest; and when he talks of religion, he talks of 
 it as of a matter of the last concern. 
 
 Here you see that one person has religion enough, 
 according to the way of the world, to be reckoned a 
 pious Christian, and the other is so far from all appear- 
 ance of religion, that he may fairly be reckoned a hea- 
 
10 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 then ; and yet if you look into their common life, if 
 you examine their chief and ruling tempers in the 
 greatest articles of life, or the greatest doctrines of 
 Christianity, you will find the least difference imagin- 
 able. 
 
 Consider them with regard to the use of the world, 
 because that is what every body can see. 
 
 Now, to have right notions and tempers with rela- 
 
 , tion to this world, is as essential to religion as to have 
 right notions of God ; and it is as possible for a man 
 
 \ to worship a crocodile, and yet be a pious man, as to 
 have his affections set upon this world, and yet be a 
 good Christian. 
 
 But now, if you consider Leo and Eusebius in this 
 respect, you will find them exactly alike, seeking, 
 using, and enjoying all that can be got in this world, 
 in the same manner and for the same ends. You will 
 find that riches, prosperity, pleasures, indulgences, 
 state, equipage, and honour, are just as much the hap- 
 piness of Eusebius as they are of Leo. And yet if 
 Christianity has not changed a man's mind and temper 
 with relation to these things, what can we say that it 
 has done for him? 
 / For if the doctrines of Christianity were practised, 
 
 / they would make a man as different from other people 
 as to all worldly tempers, sensual pleasures, and the 
 pride of life, as a wise man is different from a natural ; 
 it would be as easy a thing to know a Christian by his 
 outward course of life, as it is now difficult to find 
 any body that lives it. For it is notorious that Chris- 
 tians are now not only like other men in their frailties 
 and infirmities, this might be in some degree excus- 
 able ; but the complaint is, they are like heathens in 
 all the main and chief articles of their lives. They 
 enjoy the world, and live every day in the same tem- 
 pers, and the same designs, and the same indulgences, 
 as they did who knew not God, nor of any happiness 
 in another life. Every body that is capable of any re- 
 flection must have observed, that this is generally the 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 11 
 
 state even of devout people, whether men or women. 
 You may see tliem dittcrent from other people so far 
 as to times and places of prayer, but generally like the 
 rest of the world in all the other parts of their lives ; 
 that is, adding" Christian devotion to an heathen life. 
 I have the authority of our blessed Saviour for this re- 
 mark, where he says. Take no thought, saijing, What 
 shall we eat, or ivhat shall tec drink, or wherewithal 
 shall we be clothed ? for after all these things do the 
 Gentiles seek. But if to be thus affected even with 
 the necessary things of this life shews that we are not 
 yet of a Christian spirit, but are like the heathens, 
 surely to enjoy the vanity and folly of the world as tliey 
 did, to be like them in the main chief tempers of our 
 lives, in self-love and indulgence, in sensual pleasures 
 and diversions, in the vanity of dress, the love of show 
 and greatness, or any other gaudy distinction of for- 
 tune, is a much greater sign of an heathen temper; 
 and consequently they who add devotion to such a life 
 must be said to pray as Christians, but live as heathens. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 All Inquiry into the Reason why the generality of 
 Christians fall so far short of the Holiness and £)e- 
 votion of Christianity. 
 
 IT may now be reasonably inquired, how it comes 
 to pass, that the lives even of the better sort of peo- 
 ple are thus strangely contrary to the principles of 
 Christianity. 
 
 But, before 1 give a direct answer to this, I desire 
 it may also be inquired, how it comes to pass that 
 swearing is so common a vice amongst Christians? It 
 is indeed not yet so common amongst women as it is 
 amongst men ; but amongst men this sin is so com- 
 mon, that perhaps there are more than two in three 
 that are guilty of it through the whole course of their 
 
1^ A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 lives^ swearing more or less^ just as it happens, some 
 constantly, others only now and then, as it were by 
 chance. Now, I ask how comes it that two in three 
 of the men are guilty of so gross and proikne a sin as 
 this ? There is neither ignorance nor human infirmity 
 to plead for it ; it is against an express command- 
 ment, and the most plain doctrine of our blessed 
 Saviour. 
 
 Do but now find the reason why the generality of 
 men live in this notorious vice, and then you will have 
 found the reason why the generality even of the bet- 
 ter sort of people live so contrary to Christianity. 
 
 Now, the reason of common sweariu"- is this : it is 
 1 1 
 'because men have not so much as the intention to 
 
 please God in all their actions ; for let a man but have 
 so much piety as to intend to please God in all the 
 actions of his life, as the happiest and best thing in 
 the world, and then he will never swear more. It 
 will be as impossible for him to swear, whilst he feels 
 this intention within himself, as it is impossible for a 
 man that intends to please his prince to go up and 
 abuse him to his face. 
 
 It seems but a small and necessary part of piety to 
 have such a sincere intention as this, and that he has 
 no reason to look upon himself as a disciple of Christ 
 who is not thus far advanced in piety. And yet it is 
 purely for want of this degree of piety that you see 
 such a mixture of sin and folly in the lives even of the 
 better sort of people. It is for want of this intention 
 that you see men that profess religion yet live in 
 swearing and sensuality ; that you see clergymen 
 given to pride and covetousness, and worldly enjoy- 
 ments. It is for want of this intention that you see 
 women that profess devotion, yet living in all the folly 
 and vanity of dress, wasting their time in idleness and 
 pleasure, and in all such instances of state and equi- 
 page as their estates will reach. For let but a woman 
 feel her heart full of this intention, and she will find 
 it as impossible to patch or paint as to curse or swcai' ; 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 13 
 
 she will 110 more desire to shine at balls and assem- 
 hlies, or make a figure amongst those that are most 
 finely dressed, than she will desire to dance upon a 
 rope to please spectators : She will know that the one 
 is as far from the wisdom and excellency of the Chris- 
 tian spirit as the other. 
 
 It was this general intention that made the primi- 
 tive Christians such eminent instances of piety, that 
 made the goodly fellowship of the saints, and all the 
 glorious army of martyrs and confessors. And if you 
 will here stop and ask yourself why you are not as 
 pious as the primitive Christians were, your own heart 
 will tell you that it is neither through ignorance nor 
 inability, but purely because you never thoroughly in- 
 tended it. You observe the same Sunday-worship 
 that they did ; and you are strict in it, because it is 
 your full intention to be so. And when you as fully 
 intend to be like them in their ordinary common life, 
 when you intend to please God in all your actions, you 
 will find it as possible as to be strictly exact in the ser- 
 vice of the church. And when you have this inten- 
 tion to please God in ail your actions, as the happiest 
 and best thing in the world, you will find in you as 
 great an aversion to every thing that is vam and im- 
 pertinent in common life, whether of business or plea- 
 sure, as you now have to any thing that is profane. 
 You will be as fearful of living in any foolish way, 
 either of spending your time or your fortune, as you 
 are now fearful of neglecting the public worship. 
 
 Now, who that wants this general sincere intention 
 can be reckoned a Christian ? And yet, if it was 
 amongst Christians, it would change the whole face of 
 the world ; true piety and exemplary holiness would 
 be as common and visible as buying and selling, or 
 any trade in life. 
 
 Let a clergyman be but thus pious, and he will con- 
 verse as if he liad been brought up by an apostle ; he 
 will no more think and talk of noble preferment than 
 of noble eating or a glorious chariot. He will no 
 
14 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 more complain of the frowns of the worlds or a small j 
 cure^ or the want of a patron^ than he will complain of 
 the want of a laced coat or a running* horse. Let him - 
 but intend to please God in all his actions as the hap- 
 piest and best thing- in the worlds and then he will 
 know that there is nothing noble in a clergyman but \ 
 burning zeal for the salvation of souls ; nor any thing \ 
 poor in his profession^ but idleness and a worldly j 
 spirit. ^ 
 
 Again^ let a tradesman but have this intention^ and it 
 will make him a saint in his shop ; his every day busi- 
 ness will be a course of wise and reasonable actions, 
 made holy to God, by being done in obedience to his 
 will and pleasure. He will buy and sell, and labour 
 and travel, because by so doing he can do some good 
 to himself and others. But then, as nothing can 
 please God but what is wise, and reasonable, and holy, 
 so he will neither buy, nor sell, nor labour in any 
 other manner, nor to any other end, but such as may 
 be shewn to be wise, and reasonable, and holy. He 
 will therefore consider not what arts, or methods, or 
 application, will soonest make him richer and greater 
 than his brethren, or remove him from a shop to a life 
 of state and pleasure ; but he will consider what arts, 
 what methods, what application, can make worldly 
 business most acceptable to God, and make a life of 
 trade a life of holiness, devotion, and piety. This will 
 be the temper and spirit of every tradesman ; he can- 
 not stop short of these degrees of piety, whenever it is 
 his intention to please God in all his actions, as the 
 best and happiest thing in the world. 
 
 And, on the other hand, whoever is not of this spirit 
 and temper in his trade and profession, and does not 
 carry it on only so far as is best subservient to a wise, 
 and holy, and heavenly life, it is certain that he has 
 not this intention ; and yet, without it, who can be 
 shewn to be a follower of Jesus Christ? 
 
 Again, let the gentleman of birth and fortune but 
 have this intention, and you will see how it will carry 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 15 
 
 him from every appearance of evil to every instance of 
 piety and goodness. 
 
 He cannot live by chance, or as humour and fancy 
 carry him_, because he knows that nothing can please 
 God but a wise and regular course of life. He can- 
 not live in idleness and indulgence, in sports and gam- 
 ing-, in pleasures and intemperance, in vain expenses 
 and high living ; because these things cannot be turn- 
 ed into means of piety and holiness, or made so many 
 parts of a wise and religious life. 
 
 As he thus removes from all appearance of evil, so 
 he hastens and aspires after every instance of good- 
 ness. He does not ask what is allowable and pardon- 
 able, but what is commendable and praiseworthy. 
 He does not ask whether God will forgive the folly of 
 our lives, the madness of our pleasures, the vanity of 
 our expenses, the richness of our equipage, and the 
 careless consumption of our time ; but lie asks whe- 
 ther God is pleased with these things, or whether these 
 are the appointed ways of gaining his favour. He 
 does not inquire whether it be pardonable to hoard up 
 money to adorn ourselves with diamonds, and gild our 
 chariots, whilst the widow and the orphan, the sick 
 and the prisoner, want to be relieved ; but he asks 
 whether God has required these things at our hands, 
 whether we shall be called to account at the last day 
 for the neglect of them, because it is not his intent to 
 live in such ways as, for ought we know, God may 
 perhaps pardon ; but to be diligent in such ways as 
 we know that God will infallibly reward. 
 
 He will not, therefore, look at the lives of Chris- 
 tians to learn how he ought to spend his estate ; but 
 he will look into the scriptures, and make every doc- 
 trine, parable, precept, or instruction, that relates to 
 rich men, a law to himself in the use of his estate. 
 
 He will have nothing to do with costly apparel, be- 
 cause the rich man in the gospel was clothed with 
 purple and fine linen. He denies himself the plea- 
 sures and indulgences which his estate could prociire^ 
 
16 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 because our blessed Saviour saith^ JVoe unto you that 
 are rich, for. ye have received your consolation. He 
 will have but one rule for charity, and that will be to 
 spend all that he can that way ; because the Judge of 
 quick and dead hath said, that all that is so given is 
 given to him. 
 
 He will have no hospitable table for the rich and 
 wealthy to come and feast with him in good eating 
 and drinking ; because our blessed Lord saith. When 
 thou makest a dinner, call not thy friends, nor thy 
 brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neigh' 
 hours, lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense 
 be made thee. But when thou inakest a feast, call 
 the poor, the ?naimed, the lame, the blind, and thou 
 shall be blessed ; for they cannot recompense thee, 
 but thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of 
 the just. Luke xiv, 12, 13, 14. 
 . He will waste no money in gilded roofs or costly 
 
 (( V furniture; he will not be carried from pleasure to 
 
 pleasure in expensive state and equipage, because an 
 inspired apostle hath said, that all that is in the world, 
 the lust of the Hesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride 
 t^-«i^tv) ©f life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. 
 
 ' ^ Let not any one look upon this as an imaginary de- 
 scription of charity, that looks fine in the notion, but 
 ^■^•^^ ''''■'cannot be put in practice. For it is so far from be- 
 •j<.-»;/'^^<-''ing an imaginary impractible form of life, that it has 
 , t /,*;; been practised by great numbers of Christians in for- 
 mer ages, who were glad to turn their whole estates 
 Into a constant course of charity. And it is so far 
 from being impossible now, that if we can find any 
 / C'hristians that sincerely intend to please God in all 
 their actions, as the best and happiest thing in the 
 world, v/hether they be young or old, single or mar- 
 , ried, men or women, if they have but this intention^ 
 it will be impossible for them to do otherwise. This 
 one principle will infallibly carry them to this height 
 J^ . ,. of charity, and they will find themselves unable to 
 stop short of it. ^ , 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 17 
 
 For how is it possible for a man that intends to 
 please God in the use of his money, and intends it be- 
 cause he judges it to be his gTeatest happiness, how 
 is it possible for such a one in such a state of mind to 
 bury his money in needless impertinent finery, in co- 
 vering himself or his horses with gold, whilst there 
 are any works of piety and charity to be done with it, 
 or any ways of spending it well? 
 
 This is as strictly impossible as for a man that in- 
 tends to please God in his words to go into company 
 on purpose to swear and lie. For as all waste and 
 unreasonable expense is done designedly and with de- 
 liberation, so no one can be guilty of it whose con- 
 stant intention is to please God in the use of his 
 money. 
 
 I have chosen to explain this matter by appealing to 
 this intention, because it makes the case so plain, and 
 because every one that has a mind may see it in the 
 clearest light, and feel it in the strongest manner, 
 only by looking into his own heart. For it is as easy 
 for every person to know, whether he intends to please 
 God in all his actions, as for any servant to know 
 whether this be his intention towards his master. 
 Every one also can as easily tell how he lays out his 
 money, and whether he considers how to please God 
 in it, as he can tell where his estate is, and whether it 
 be in money or land. So that here is no plea left for 
 ignorance or frailty, as to this matter ; every body is 
 in the light, and every body has power. And no one 
 can fail, but he that is not so much a Christian as to 
 intend to please God in the use of his estate. 
 
 You see two persons, one is regular in public and 
 private prayer, the other is not. Now, the reason of 
 this difference is not this, that the one has strength and 
 power to observe prayer, and the other has not ; but 
 the reason is this, that one intends to please God in 
 the duties of devotion, and the other has no intention 
 about it. Now, the case is the same in the right or 
 wrong use of our time and money. You s(?e one per- 
 
18 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 son throwing away his time in sleep and idleness^ iti 
 visiting and diversions, and his money in the most vain 
 and unreasonable expenses. You see another careful 
 of every day, dividing his hours by rules of reason and 
 religion, and spending all his money in works of cha- 
 rity ; now, the difference is not owing to this, that one 
 has strength and power to do thus, and the other has 
 not ; but it is owing to this, that one intends to please 
 God in the right use of all his time and all his money, 
 and the other has no intention about it. 
 
 Here, therefore, let us judge ourselves sincerely ; let 
 us not vainly content ourselves with the common dis- 
 orders of our lives, the vanity of our expenses, the 
 folly of our diversions, the pride of our habits, the idle- 
 ness of our lives, and the wasting of our time, fancying 
 that these are such imperfections as we fall into 
 through the unavoidable weakness and frailty of our 
 natures ; but let us be assured, that these disorders of 
 our common life are owing to this, that we have not so 
 much Christianity as to intend to please God in all the 
 actions of our life, as the best and happiest thing in 
 the world. So that we must not look upon ourselves 
 in a state of common and pardonable imperfection, 
 but in such a state as wants the first and most funda- 
 mental principle of Christianity, viz. an intention to 
 please God in all our actions. 
 
 And if any one was to ask himself, how it cornes to 
 pass that there are any degrees of sobriety which he 
 neglects, any practice of humility which he wants, any 
 methods of charity which he does not follow, any rules 
 of redeeming time which he does not observe, his own 
 heart will tell him, that it is because he never intend- 
 ed to be so exact in those duties. For whenever we 
 fully intend it, it is as possible to conform to all this 
 regularity of life, as it is possible for a man to observe 
 times of prayer. 
 
 So that the fault does not lie here, that we desire to 
 be good and perfect, but through the weakness of our 
 nature fall short, of it; but it is because we have not 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 19 
 
 piety enoug'h to intend to be as good as we can^ or to 
 please God in all the actions of our life. This^ we 
 see, is plainly the case of him that spends his time in 
 sports, when lie should be at cimrch ; it is not his want 
 of power, but his want of intention or desire, to be 
 there. 
 
 And the case is plainly the same in every other folly 
 of human life. She that spends her time and money in 
 the unreasonable ways and fashions of the world, does 
 not do so because she wants power to be wise and re- 
 ligious in the management of her time and money ; 
 but because she has no intention or desire of being so. 
 ^Vhen she feels this intention, she will find it as pos- 
 sible to act up to it, as to be strictly sober and chaste^ 
 because it is her care and desire to be so. 
 
 This doctrine does not suppose that we have no 
 need of divine grace, or that it is in our own pow er to 
 make ourselves perfect. Jt only supposes that, through 
 the want of a sincere intention of pleasing God in all 
 our actions, we fall into such irregularities of life, as 
 by the ordinary means of grace we should have power 
 to avoid. 
 
 And that we have not that perfection which our 
 present state of grace makes us capable of, because we 
 do not so much as intend to have it. 
 
 It only teaches us that the reason why you see no 
 real mortification or self-denial, no eminent charity, 
 no profound humility, no heavenly aifection, no true 
 contempt of the world, no Christian meekness, no sin- 
 cere zeal, no eminent piety in the common lives of 
 Christians, is this — because they do not so much as in- 
 tend to be exact and exemplary in their virtues. , /--.. / . 
 
 c% 
 
20 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Of the great Danger and Folly of not intending to be 
 as exemplary as ice can, in the practice of all 
 Christian virtues. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the goodness of God, and his rich 
 
 mercies in Christ Jesus, are a sufficient assurance to 
 
 * us that he will be merciful to our unavoidable weak- 
 
 •' nesses and infirmities, that is, to such failings as are 
 
 ■ . ''. ^^-^^the effects of ignorance or surprise ; yet we have no 
 
 ""6*^7' '^'t'^^son to expect the same mercy towards those sins 
 
 f4^ ' which we have lived in through a vvant of intention to 
 
 .r ^^ ' • af Old them. 
 
 >k.Hv("- For instance, the case of a common swearer, who 
 ^"M'^.. .iii^s in that guilt, seems to have no title to the divine 
 ' ' . f^Biercy ; for this reason, because he can no more plead ' 
 any weakness or infirmity in his excuse, than the man 
 that hid his talent in the earth could plead his want of . 
 , strength to keep it out of the earth. 
 ; But now, if this be rig-ht reasoning-, the case of a 
 *x * /.-Common swearer, that his sin is not to be reckoned a 
 ,M\*L * 'pardonable frailty, because he has no weakness to 
 , J#t»-^ plead in its excuse ; Avhy then do we not carry this 
 \4^A»M, way of reasoning to its true extent? Why do we not 
 * y -^{j-iCas much condemn every one other error of life that . 
 : / /bas no more weakness to plead in its excuse than com-/; 
 mon swearing? 
 
 For if this be so bad a thing, because it might be 
 
 avoided, if we did but sincerely intend it, must not 
 
 ^^^^^;p.^,^,tlien all other erroneous ways of life be very guilty, if 
 
 /V we live in them, not through weakness and inability, 
 
 ^**:r / liut because we never sincerely intended to avoid them? 
 
 %^^% ^' For instance, you perhaps have made no progress 
 
 ii^-'iici^^ the most important Christian virtues, you have 
 
 •^carce gone half way in humility and charity ; now, if 
 
 'your failure in these duties is purely owing to your 
 
 " nvant of intention of performing them in any true de- 
 
 
 ■r/ 
 
\\AA, 
 
 DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 21 
 
 gree, have you not then as little to plead for yourself, 
 and are you not as much without all excuse^ as the 
 common swearer ? 
 
 Why, therefore, do you not press these things home 
 upon your conscience? Why do you not think it as 
 dangerous for you to live in such defects as are in 
 your power to amend, as it is dangerous for a common 
 swearer to live in the breach of that duty which it is 
 in his power to observe ? Is not negligence and a 
 want of a sincere intention as blameable in one case 
 as in another ? 
 
 You, it may be, are as far from Christian perfection 
 as the common swearer is from keeping the third com- 
 mandment ; are you not, therefore, as much condemn- 
 ed by the doctrines of the gospel as the swearer is by 
 the third commandment ? 
 
 You perhaps will say, that all people fall short of 
 the perfection of the gospel, and therefore you are 
 content with your failings. But this is saying nothing 
 •to the purpose. For the question is not whether gos- 
 pel perfection can be fully attained ; but whether you 
 come as near it as a sincere intention and careful dili- 
 gence can carry you ; whether you are not in a much 
 lower state than you might be, if you sincerely intend- 
 ed and carefully laboured to advance yourself in all 
 Christian virtues. 
 
 If you are as forward in the Christian life as your 
 best endeavours can make you, then you may justly 
 hope that your imperfections will not be laid to your 
 charge ; but if your defects in piety, humility, and 
 charity, are owing to your negligence and want of sin- 
 cere intention to be as eminent as you can in these 
 virtues, then you leave yourself as much without ex- 
 cuse as he that lives in the sin of swearing, through 
 the want of a sincere intention to depart from it. 
 
 The salvation of our souls is set forth in scripture as 
 a thing of difficulty, that requires all our dihgence, that 
 is to be icorked out with fear and trembling. 
 
 We are told that strait is the gate, and narrow, is 
 ) -ti.j u.'^^-t>^i^y^ .ri / • -\,'-,-w ■'.<'■*', '\:,Loi^i. ■ ' "' ■■•'-■ 
 
S3 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 the voay, that leadeth unto life, and few there he that 
 find it; that many are called, hut few are chosen. 
 And that many wiii miss of their salvation, who seem 
 to have taken soaie pains to obtain it. As in these 
 words. Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many, 
 I say unto you, ivill seek to enter in, and shall not he 
 able. 
 
 Here our blessed Lord commands iis to strive to en-' 
 ter in^ because many will fail who only seek to enter. 
 By which we are plainly taiiglit that religion is a state 
 of labour and striving, and that many will fail of their 
 salvation ; not because they took no care or pains 
 about it, but because they did not take pains and care 
 enough ; they only sought, but did not strive to enter 
 in. 
 
 Every Christian, therefore, should as well examine 
 his own life by these doctrines as by the command- 
 ments. For these doctrines are as plain marks of our 
 condition, as the commandments are plain marks of 
 our duty. 
 
 For if salvation is only given to those who strive for 
 it, then it is as reasonable for me to consider whether 
 my course of life be a course of striving" to obtain it, as 
 to consider whether 1 am keeping- any of the com- 
 mandments. 
 
 If my religion is only a formal compliance with 
 those modes of worship that are in fashion where I live ; 
 if it costs tne no pains or trouble, if it lays me under 
 no rules and restraints, if I have no careful thoughts 
 and sober reflections about it, is it not great weakness 
 to think that I am striving to enter in at the strait 
 gate ? 
 
 If I am seeking every thing- that can delight my 
 senses, and regale my appetites ; spending- my time 
 and fortune in pleasures, in diversions, and worldly en- 
 joyments; a strang-cr to watch ings, fastings, prayers,, 
 and mortifications, how can it be said that 1 am work- 
 ing out my salvation with fear and trembling ? 
 
 If there is nothing in my life and conversation that 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE, 23 
 
 shews me to be different from the Jews and heathens ; 
 if I use the worlds and worldly enjoyments, as the ge- 
 nerality of people now do, and in all ages have done^, 
 why should I think that I am amongst those few who 
 are walking in the narrow way to heaven? 
 
 And yet if the way is narrow, if none can walk in it 
 but those that strive, is it not as necessary for me to 
 consider whether the way 1 am in be narrow enough ; 
 or the labour I take be a sufficient striving, as to con- 
 sider whether I sufficiently observe the second or third 
 commandment ? 
 
 The sum of this matter, is this: From the above- 
 mentioned, and many other passages of scripture, it ^^,,^ L* 
 seems plain, that our salvation depends upon the sin- ^1,, (^ 
 cerity and perfection of our endeavours to obtain it. ^*' . * " 
 
 Weak and imperfect men shall, notwithstanding ^ 
 their frailties and defects, be received, as having pleas- 
 ed God, if they have done their utmost to please him. 
 
 The rewards of charity, piety, and humility, will be 
 given to those whose lives have been a careful labour 
 to exercise these virtues in as high a degree as they 
 could. 
 
 We cannot offer to God the service of angels ; we 
 cannot obey him as man in a state of perfection could ; 
 but fallen men can do their best, and this is the per- 
 fection that is required of us ; it is only the perfection 
 of our best endeavours, a careful labour to be as per- 
 fect as we can. 
 
 But if we stop short of this, for aught we know, we 
 stop short of the merCy of God, and leave ourselves 
 nothing to plead from the terms of the gospel ; for God 
 has there made no promises of mercy to the slothful 
 and negligent. His mercy is only offered to our frail 
 and imperfect, but best endeavours, to practice all 
 manner of righteousness. 
 
 As the law to angels is angelical righteousness, as 
 the law to perfect beings is strict perfection, so the 
 law to our imperfect natures is the best obedience that 
 our frail nature is able to perform 
 
 c 4 
 
24 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 The measure of our love to God seems injustice to 
 be the measure of our love of every virtue. We are 
 to love and practise it with all our heart, with all our 
 soul, with all our mind, and with all our strength. 
 And when we cease to live with this regard to virtue, 
 we live below our nature, and instead of being able to 
 plead our infirmities, we stand chargeable with negli- 
 gence. 
 
 It is for this reason that we are exhorted to work 
 out our salvation with fear and trembling ; because, 
 unless our heart and passions are eagerly bent upon 
 the work of our salvation ; unless holy fears animate 
 our endeavours^ and keep our consciences strict and 
 tender about every part of our duty, constantly ex- 
 amining how we live, and how fit we are to die; we 
 shall, in all probability, fall into a state of negligence, 
 and sit down in such a course of life t^s will never 
 carry us to the rewards of heaven. 
 
 And he that considers that a just God can only make 
 such allowances as are suitable to his justice, that our 
 works are all to be examined by lire, will find that 
 fear and trembling are proper tempers for those that 
 are drawing near so great a trial. 
 
 And, indeed, there is no probability that any one 
 should do all the duty that is expected from him, or 
 make that progress in piety which the holiness and 
 justice of God requires of him, but he that is constant- 
 ly afraid of falling short of it. 
 
 Now, this is not intended to possess people's minds 
 with a scrupulous anxiety, and discontent in the ser- 
 vice of Gocl, but to fill them with a just fear of living in 
 sloth and idleness, and in the neglect of such virtues 
 as they will want at the day of judgment. 
 
 It is to excite them to an earnest examination of 
 their lives, to such zeal, and care, and concern after 
 Christian perfection, as they use in any matter that has 
 gained their heart and aifections. 
 
 It is only desiring them to be so apprehensive of 
 their state, so humble in the opinion of themselves^ so 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 25 
 
 earnest after higher degrees of piety, and so fearful of 
 falling short of happiness, as the great Apostle St. 
 Paul was, when he thus wrote to the Philippians : 
 
 " Not as though I had already attained, either were 
 already perfect. But this one tiling I do ; forgetting 
 those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto 
 those things which are before, I press toward the 
 mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ 
 Jesus." And then he adds, " Let us, therefore, as 
 many as are perfect, be thus minded." 
 
 But now, if the apostle thought it necessary for 
 those who were in his state of perfection to be thus 
 minded ; that is, thus labouring, pressing, and aspir- 
 ing after some degrees of holiness, to which they were 
 not then arrived ; surely it is much more necessary for 
 us, who are born in the dregs of time, and labouring 
 under great imperfections, to be thus minded ; that is^ 
 thus earnest and striving after such degrees of a holy 
 and divine life as we have not yet attained. 
 
 The best way for any one to know how much he 
 ought to aspire after holiness, is to consider not how 
 much will make his present life easy ; but to ask him- 
 self how much he thinks will make him easy at the 
 hour of death. 
 
 Now, any man that dares be serious as to put this 
 question to himself w ill be forced to answer, that at 
 death every one will wish that he had been as perfect' 
 as human nature can be. 
 
 Is not this therefore sufficient to put us, not only 
 upon wishing, but labouring after all that perfection 
 which we shall then lament the want of? Is it not ex- 
 cessive folly to be content with such a course of piety, 
 when we shall so want it as to have nothing else to 
 comfort us ? How can we carry a severer condemna- 
 tion against ourselves, than to believe that at the hour 
 of death we shall want the virtues of the saints, and 
 wish that we had been amongst the first servants of 
 God, and yet take no methods of arriving at their 
 height of piety whilst we are alive ? 
 
26 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Though this is an absurdity that we can easily pass 
 over at present, whilst the health of our bodies, the 
 passions of our minds, the noise, and hurry, and plea- 
 sures, and business of the world, lead us on with eyes 
 that see not, and ears that hear not ; yet at death it 
 will set itself before us in a dreadful magnitude, it 
 will haunt us like a dismal ghost, and our conscience 
 will never let us take our eyes from it. 
 
 We see, in worldly mattei's, what a torment seif- 
 condemnation is ; and how hardly a man is able to 
 forgive himself, when he has brought himself into any 
 calamity or disgrace purely by his own folly. The 
 affliction is made doubly tormenting, because he is 
 forced to charge it ail upon himself as his own act and 
 deed, against the nature and reason of things, and 
 contrary to the advice of all his friends. 
 
 Now, by this we may in some degree guess how 
 terrible the pain of that self-condemnation will be, 
 when a man shall find liimself in the miseries of death, 
 under the severity of a self-condemning conscience ; 
 charging all his distress upon his own folly and mad- 
 ness, against the sense and reason of his own mind^ 
 against all the doctrines and precepts of religion, and 
 contrary to all the instructions, calls, and warnings 
 both of God and man. 
 
 Penitens was a busy notable tradesman, and very 
 jirosperous in his dealings ; but died in the thirty-fifth 
 year of his age. 
 
 A little before his death, when tlie doctors had given 
 him over, some of his neighbours came one evening' 
 to see him ; at which time he spake thus to them : 
 
 " I see," says he, " my friends, the tender concern 
 you have for me, by the grief that appears in your 
 countenances, and I know the thoughts that you now 
 have about nie. You think how melancholy a case it 
 is to see so young a man, and in such flourishing bu- 
 siness, delivered up (o death. And perhaps, had I 
 visited any of you in my condition, 1 should have had 
 the same thoughts of you. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 27 
 
 " But now, my friends, my thoughts are no more 
 like your thoui^hts than my condition is hke yours. 
 
 " It is no trouble to me now to think that 1 am to 
 die young, or before I have raised an estate. 
 
 " These things are now sunk into such mere no- 
 things, that I have no name little enough to call them 
 by. For if, in a few days or hours, I am to leave 
 this carcase to be buried in the earth, and to find my- 
 self either for ever happy in the favour of God, or 
 eternally separated from all light and peace, can any 
 words sufficiently express the littleness of every thing- 
 else / 
 
 " Is there any dream like the dream of life, which \ 
 amuses us with the neg-lect and disregard of these 
 things? Is there any folly like the folly of our manly j 
 state, which is too v/ise and busy to be at leisure for 1 
 these reflections? 
 
 " When we consider death as a misery, we only 
 think of it as a miserable separation from the plea- 
 sures of this life. AVe seldom mourn over an old man 
 that dies rich ; but we lament the young that are 
 taken away in the progress of their fortune. You 
 yourselves look upon me with pity, not that I am 
 g-oing- unprepared to meet the Judge of quick and 
 dead ; but that I am to leave a prosperous trade in 
 the flower of my life. 
 
 ^' This is the wisdom of our manly tliougiits. And 
 ,(j^ii. yet what folly of the siUiest children is so great as 
 ,vK«nhis?> 
 
 " For what is there miserable or dreadful in death, f 
 but the consequences of it? When a man is dead \ 
 what does anyTlTThg^signify to him, but the state he is j 
 then in? ' 
 
 "Our poor friend Lepidus died, you know, as he 
 was dressing himself for a feast. Do you think it is 
 now part of his trouble that he did not live till that 
 entertainment was over? Feasts, and business, and 
 pleasures, and enjoyments, seem great things to us, 
 whilst we think of nothing else ; but as soon as we 
 
28 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 add death to them, they all sink into an equal little- 
 ness ; and the soul that is separated from the body no 
 more laments the loss of business than the losing- of a 
 feast. 
 
 " If I am going into the joys of God, could there 
 be any reason to grieve that this happened to me be- 
 fore 1 was forty years of age? Could it be a sad thing 
 to go to heaven before I had made a few more bar- 
 gains, or stood a little longer behind the counter? 
 
 " And if I am to go amongst lost spirits, could 
 there be any reason to be content that this did not 
 happen to me till I was old, and full of riches ? 
 
 '' If good angels were ready to receive my soul, 
 could it be any grief to me that I was dying upon a 
 poor bed in a ga rrat ? 
 
 " And if God has delivered me up to evil spirits, to 
 be dragged by them to places of torments, could it be 
 any comfort to me that they found me upon a bed of 
 state ? 
 
 *' When you are as near death as I am, you will 
 know that ail the different states of life, whether of 
 youth or age, riches or poverty, greatness or mean- 
 ness, signify no more to you than whether you die in 
 a poor or stately apartment. 
 / '' The greatness of those things which follow death 
 \ makes all that goes before it sink into nothing. 
 
 " Now that judgment is the next thing that I look 
 for, and everlasting happiness or misery is come so 
 near me, all the enjoyments and prosperities of life 
 seem as vain and insignificant, and to have no more to 
 do with my happiness than the clothes that I wore be- 
 fore I could speak. 
 
 " But, my friends, how am I surprised that I have 
 not always had these thoughts ? For what is there in 
 the terrors of death, in the vanities of life, or the ne- 
 cessities of piety, but what I might have as easily and 
 fully seen in any part of my life ? 
 
 " What a strange thing is it, that a little health, 
 or the poor business of a shop, should keep us so 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 29 
 
 senseless of these great things that are coming' so fast 
 upon us ! 
 
 '' Just as you came into my chamber^ I was thinking 
 with myself what numbers of souls there are now in 
 the world in my condition at this very time^ surprised 
 with a summons to the other world ; some taken from 
 their shops and farms, others from their sports and 
 pleasures ; these at suits of law, those at gaming-ta- 
 bles ; some on the road, others at their own firesides^ 
 and all seized at an hour when they thought nothing 
 of it; frighted at the approach of death, confounded 
 at the vanity of all their labours, designs, and projects, 
 astonished at the folly of their past lives, and not 
 knowing which way to turn their thoughts to find any 
 comfort. Their consciences flying in their faces, 
 bringing all their sins to their remembrance, torment- 
 ing them with deepest convictions of their own folly, 
 presenting them with the sight of the angry Judge, 
 the worm that never dies, the fire that is never quench- 
 ed, the gates of hell, the powers of darkness, and the 
 bitter pains of eternal death. 
 
 " Oh, my friends ! bless God that you are not of 
 this number, that you have time and strength to em- 
 ploy yourselves in such works of piety as may bring 
 you peace at the last. 
 
 " And take this along with you, that there is no-\ 
 thing but a life of great piety, or a death of great stu- fi 
 pidity, that can keep off these apprehensions. ^ 
 
 '' Had I now a thousand worlds, I would give them 
 all for one year more, that I might present unto God 
 one year of such devotion and good works, as I never 
 before so much as intended. 
 
 " You, perhaps, when you consider that I have lived 
 free from scandal and debauchery, and in the commu- 
 nion of the church, wonder to see me so full of remorse 
 and self-condemnation at the approach of death. 
 
 " But, alas ! what a poor thing it is to have lived 
 only free from murder, theft, and adultery, which is 
 all that I can say of myself! 
 
30 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 " You knov»^, indeed^ that I have never been reck* 
 oned a sot^ but you are^, at the same time^ witnesses^ 
 and have been frequent companions, of my intemper- 
 ance^ sensuality^ and great indulg-ence. 
 
 " And if I am nov/ going to a judgment^ where no- 
 thing will be rewarded but good works^ I may well 
 be concerned, that though I am no sot^ yet I have no 
 Christian sobriety to plead for me. 
 
 " It is true, I have lived in the communion of the 
 churchy and generally frequented its worship and ser- 
 vice on Sundays, when 1 was neither too idle, or not 
 otherwise disposed of by my business and pleasures. 
 But then my conformity to the public worship has 
 been rather a thing of course than any real intention 
 of doing that which the service of the church suppo- 
 ses ; had it not been so, I had been oftener at churchy, 
 more devout when there, and more fearful of ever 
 neglecting it. 
 
 " But the thing that now surprises me above all 
 wonders is this — that 1 never had so much as a gene- 
 ral intention of living up to the piety of the gospel. 
 This never so much as entered into my head or my 
 heart. I never once in my life considered whether I 
 was living as the laws of religion direct, or whether 
 my way of life was such as would procure me the 
 mercy of God at this hour. 
 
 " And can it be thought that I have kept the gos- 
 pel terms of salvation, without ever so much as intend- 
 ing, in any serious and deliberate manner, either to 
 know them or keep them? Can it be thought that 1 
 have pleased God with such a life as he requires^ 
 tliough 1 have lived without ever considering what he 
 requires, or how much I have performed? How easy 
 a thing would salvation be, if it could fall into my care- 
 less hands, who have never had so much serious 
 thouglits about it, as about any one common barg-ain 
 that I have made ? 
 
 '" In the business of life I have used prudence and 
 reflection ; I have done every thing by rules and me- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 31 
 
 thods. I have been glad to converse with men of ex- 
 perience and judgment, to find out the reasons why 
 some fail and others succeed in any business. I have 
 taken no step in trade but with great care and caution, 
 considering every advantage or danger that attended 
 it. I have always had my eye upon the main end of 
 business, and have studied all the ways and means of 
 being a gainer by all that 1 undertook. 
 
 '' But what is the reason that 1 have brou«ht none 
 of these tempers to religion: What is the reason that 
 I, who have so often talked of the necessity of rules 
 and methods, and dihgence in worldly business, have 
 all this while never once thought of any rules, or me- 
 thods, or managements, to carry me on in a life of 
 piety? 
 
 " Do you think any thing can astonish and con- 
 found a dying man like this ] What pain do you 
 think a man must feel, when his conscience lays all 
 his folly to his charge, when it shall shew him how re- 
 gular, exact, and wise he has been in small matters, 
 tliat are passed away like a dream, and how stupid 
 and senseless he has lived, without any reflection, 
 without any rules, in things of such eternal moment 
 as no heart can sufficiently conceive them ! 
 
 " Had I only my frailties and imperfections to la- 
 ment at this time, I should lie here humbly trusting in 
 the mercies of God. But, alas! how can 1 call a ge- 
 neral disregard, and a thorough neglect of all religi- 
 ous improvement, a frailty and imperfection ; when it 
 v/as as much in my power to have been exact, and 
 careful, and diligent in a course of piety, as in the 
 business of my trade. 
 
 '' I could have called in as many helps, have prac- 
 tised as many rules, and been taught as many certain 
 methods of holy living, as of thriving in my shop, had 
 I but so intended and desired it. 
 
 " Oh ! my friends ! a careless life, unconcerned and 
 inattentive to the duties of religion, is so without all 
 excuse, so unworthy of the mercy of God, such a 
 
H'1 
 
 shame to the sense and reason of our minds, that I can 
 hardly conceive a greater punishment, than for a man 
 to be thrown into the state that I am in to reflect 
 upon it." 
 
 Penitens was here going on, but had his mouth 
 ■Ji stopped by a convulsion, which never suifered him to 
 * speak any more. He lay convulsed about twelve 
 hours, and then gave up the ghost. 
 
 Now, if the reader would imagine this Penitens to 
 have been some particular acquaintance or relation of 
 his, and fancy that he saw and heard all that is here 
 described, that he stood by his bedside when his poor 
 friend lay in such distress and agony, lamenting the 
 folly of his past life, it would, in all probability, teach 
 him such wisdom as never entered into his heart be- 
 fore. If to this he should consider how often he him- 
 self might have been surprised in the same state of 
 negligence, and made an example to the rest of the 
 world, this double reflection, both upon the distress 
 of his friend, and the goodness of that God who had 
 preserved him from it, would, in all likelihood, soften 
 his heart into holy tempers, and make him turn the 
 3 remainder of his life into a regular course of piety. 
 e This, therefore, being so useful a meditation, I shall 
 V here leave the reader, as I hope, seriously engaged 
 in it. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 We can please God in no state or emploi/ment of 
 Life, but by intending and devoting it all to his 
 Honour and Glory. 
 
 HAVING in the first chapter stated the general 
 nature of devotion, and shewn that it implies not any 
 form of prayer, but a certain form of life that is offer- 
 ed to God, not at any particular times or places, but 
 to every where and in every thing ; I shall now descend 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 33 
 
 to some particulars, and shew how we are to devote 
 our labour and employment, our times and fortunes, 
 unto God. 
 
 As a good Christian should consider every place as 
 holy, because God is there, so he should look upon 
 every part of his life as a matter of holiness, because it 
 is to be offered unto God. 
 
 The profession of a clergyman is an holy profession, 
 because it is a ministration in holy tilings, an attend- 
 ance at the altar. But worldly business is to be made 
 holy unto the Lord, by being done as a service to him, 
 and in conformity to his divine will. 
 
 For as all men and all things in the world as truly 
 belong unto God as any places, things, or persons, 
 that are devoted to divine service ; so all things are to 
 be used, and all persons are to act in their several 
 states and employments for the glory of God. 
 
 Men of worldly business, therefore, must not look 
 upon themselves as at liberty to live to themselves, to 
 sacrifice to their own humours and tempers, because 
 their employment is of a worldly nature. But they 
 must consider, that as the world and all worldly pro- 
 fessions as truly belong to God as persons and things 
 that arc devoted to the altar ; so it is as much the duty 
 of men in worldly business to live wholly unto God, as 
 it is the duty of those who are devoted to divine 
 service. 
 
 As the whole world is God's, so the whole world is 
 to act for God. As all men have the same relation to 
 God, as all men have all their powers and faculties 
 from God ; so all men are obliged to act for God with 
 all their powers and faculties. 
 
 As all things are God's, so all things are to be used 
 and regarded as the things of God. For men to abuse 
 things on earth, and live to themselves, is the same re- 
 bellion against God as for angels to abuse things in 
 heaven; because God is just the same Lord of all on 
 earth, as he is the Lord of all in heaven. 
 
 Things may and must differ in their use, but yet 
 
 D 
 
34 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 they are all to be used according to the will of God. 
 
 Men may and must differ in their employment, but 
 yet they must all act for the same ends^ as dutiful ser- 
 vants of God, in the right and pious performance of 
 their several callings. 
 
 Clergymen must live wholly unto God in one parti- 
 cular way,, that is, in the exercise of holy offices, in the 
 ministration of prayers and sacraments, and a zealous 
 distribution of spiritual goods. 
 
 But men of other employments are, in their parti- 
 cular ways, as much obliged to act as the servants of 
 God, and live wholly unto him in their several callings. 
 
 This is the only difference between clergymen and 
 people of other callings. 
 
 When it can be shewn that men might be vain, co- 
 vetous, sensual, worldly-minded, or proud in the exer- 
 cise of their worldly business, then it will be allowable 
 for clergymen to indulge the same tempers in their 
 sacred profession. For though these tempers are 
 most odious and most criminal in clergymen, who, be- 
 sides their baptismal vow, have a second time devoted 
 themselves to God to be his servants, not in the com- 
 mon offices of human life, but in the spiritual service 
 of the most holy sacred things ; and who are therefore 
 to keep themselves as separate and different from the 
 common life of other men, as a church or an altar is to 
 be kept separate from houses and tables of common 
 use ; yet as all Christians are by their baptism devoted 
 to God, and made professors of holiness, so are they 
 all in their several callings to live as holy and heavenly 
 persons, doing every thing in their common life only 
 in such a manner as it may be received by God as a 
 service done to him. For things spiritual and tem- 
 poral, sacred and common, must, like men and angels, 
 like heaven and earth, all conspire in the glory of God. 
 
 As there is but one God and Father of us all, whose 
 glory gives light and life to every thing that lives, 
 whose presence fills all places, whose power supports 
 all beings, whose providence ruleth all events ; so 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 35 
 
 every tiling that lives^ whether in heaven or earth, 
 wliether they be thrones or principahties, men or au- 
 g-elSj they must all with one spirit live wholly to the 
 praise and glory of this one God and Father of them 
 alL Angels as angels in their heavenly ministrations, 
 but men as men, women as women, bishops as bis- 
 hops, priests as priests, and deacons as deacons ; some 
 with things spiritual, and some with things temporal, 
 offering to God the daily sacrifice of a reasonable life, 
 wise actions, purity of heart, and heavenly affections. 
 This is the common business of all persons in this 
 world. It is not left to any woman in the world to trifle 
 away her time in the follies and impertinences of a 
 fashionable life, nor to any men to resign themselves 
 up to worldly cares and concerns ; it is not left to the 
 rich to gratify their passions in the indulgences and 
 pride of life ; nor to the poor to vex and torment their 
 hearts with the poverty of their state ; but men and 
 women, rich and poor, must with bishops and priests 
 walk before God, in the same wise and holy spirit, in 
 the same denial of all vain tempers, and in the same 
 discipline and care of their souls ; not only because 
 they have all the same rational nature, arfd are ser- 
 vants of the same God, but because they all want the 
 same holiness to make them fit for the same happiness, 
 to which they are called. It is therefore absolutely 
 necessary for all Christians, whether men or women, 
 to consider themselves as persons that are devoted to 
 holiness ; and so order their common ways of life by 
 such rules of reason and piety, as may turn it into 
 continual service unto Almighty God. 
 
 Now, to make our labour or employment an ac- 
 ceptable service unto God, we must carry it on with 
 the same spirit and temper that is required in giving of 
 alms, or any work of piety. For if, 
 1 Cor. X. 31. vohether loe eat or drink, or whatso- 
 ever ice do, we must do all to the 
 glory of God ; if we are to use this world as if we 
 used it not ; if we are to present our 
 d2 
 
36 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Rom. xii. 7. bodies a living sacrifice, holy, accept- 
 able to God ; if loe are to live bi/ faith, 
 and not bij sight, and to have our conversation in 
 heaven ; then it is necessary that the common way of 
 our life in every state be made to glorify God by such 
 tempers as make our prayers and adorations accept- 
 able to him. For, if we are worldly or earthly-mind- 
 ed in our employments^ if they are carried on with 
 vain desires and covetous tempers, only to satisfy our- 
 selves, we can no more be said to live to the glory of 
 God than gluttons and drunkards can be said to eat 
 and drink to the glory of God. 
 
 As the glory of God is one and the same thing, so 
 whatever we do suitable to it must be done with one 
 and the same spirit. That same state and temper of 
 mind which makes our alms and devotions acceptable, 
 must also make our labour or employment a proper 
 offering unto God. If a man labours to be rich, and 
 pursues his business, that he may raise himself to a 
 state of figure and glory in the world, he is no longer 
 serving God in his employment; he is acting under 
 other masters, and has no more title to a reward from 
 God than lie that gives alms that he may be seen, or 
 prays that he may be heard of men. For vain and 
 earthly desires are no more alloAvable in our employ- 
 ments than in our alms and devotions. For these 
 tempers of worldly pride and vain-glory are not only 
 evil, when they mix with our good works, but they 
 have the same evil nature, and make us odious to God, 
 when they enter into the common business of our em- 
 ployment. If it were allowable to indulge covetous 
 or vain passions in our worldly employments, it would 
 then be allowable to be vain-glorious in our devotions. 
 But as our alms and devotions are not an acceptable 
 service but when they proceed from a heart truly de- 
 voted to God, so our common employment cannot be 
 reckoned a service to him, but when it is performed 
 with the same temper and piety of heart. 
 
 Most of the employments of life are in their own 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 37 
 
 nature lawful ; and all those that are so may be made 
 a substantial part of our duty to God^ if we engage in 
 them only so far^ and for such ends^ as are suitable to 
 beings that are to live above the world all the time 
 that they live in the world. This is the only measure 
 of our application to any worldly business ; let it be 
 what it will, where it will, it must have no more of our 
 hands, our hearts, or our time, than is consistent with 
 an hearty, daily, careful preparation of ourselves foi 
 another life. For as all Christians, as such, have re- 
 nounced this world, to prepare themselves, by daily 
 devotion and universal holiness, for an eternal state of 
 quite another nature, they must look upon worldly 
 employments as upon worldly wants and bodily in- 
 firmities ; things not to be desired, but only to be en- 
 dured and suffered, till death and the resurrection iiave 
 carried us to an eternal state of real happiness. 
 
 Now, he that does not look at the things of this life 
 in this degree of littleness, cannot be said either to feel 
 or believe the greatest truths of Christianity. For if 
 he thinks any thing- great or important in human 
 business, can he be said to feel or believe those scrip- 
 tures which represent this life, and the greatest thing's 
 of life, as bubbles, vapours, dreams, and shadows ? 
 
 If he thinks figure and show, and worldly glory, to 
 be any proper happiness of a Christian, how can he 
 be said to feel or believe this doctrine. Blessed are ye 
 when men shall hate you, and when they shall sepa- 
 rate you from their company, and shall reproach you, 
 and cast out your names as evil, for the Son of man's 
 sake? For surely, if there was any real happiness in 
 figure and show, and worldly glory ; if these things 
 deserved our tlioughts and care, it could not be a mat- 
 ter of the highest joy, when we are torn from them by 
 persecutions and sufferings? If, therefore, a man 
 will so live as to shew that he feels and believes the 
 most fundamental doctrines of Christianity, he must 
 live above the world ; this is the temper that must en- 
 able him to do the business of life, and vet live wholly 
 
 d3 
 
38 A S-ERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 unto God, and go through some worldly employment 
 with a heavenly mind. And it is as necessary that 
 people live in their employments with this temper, as 
 it is necessary that their employment itself be lawful. 
 
 The husbandman that tilleth the ground is employ- 
 ed in an honest business that is necessary in life, and 
 very capable of being made an acceptable service unto 
 God ; but if he labours and toils, not to serve any 
 reasonable ends of life, but in order to have his plough 
 made of silver, and to have his horses harnessed in 
 gold, the honesty of his employment is lost as to him, 
 and his labour becomes his folly, 
 
 A tradesman may justly think that it is agreeable 
 to the will of God for him to sell such things as are 
 innocent and useful in life ; such as help both himself 
 and others to a reasonable support, and enable them 
 to assist those that want to be assisted. But if, in- 
 stead of this, he trades only with regard to himself, 
 without any other rule than that of his own temper ; 
 if it be his chief end in it to grow rich, that he may 
 live in figure and indulgences, and be able to retire 
 from business to idleness and luxury, his trade as to 
 him loses all its innocency, and is so far from being an 
 acceptable service to God, that it is only a more plau- 
 sible course of covetousness, self-love, and ambition. 
 For such a one turns the necessities of employments 
 into pride and covetousness, just as the sot and epicure 
 turn the necessities of eating and drinking into glut- 
 tony and drunkenness. Now, he that is up early and 
 late, that sweats and labours for these ends, that he 
 may be some time or other rich, and live in pleasure 
 and indulgence, lives no more to the glory of God than 
 he that plays and games for the same ends. For 
 though there is a great difference between trading and 
 gaming, yet most of that difference is lost when men 
 once trade with the same desires and tempers, and for 
 the same ends that others game. Charity and fine 
 dressing are things very different; but if men give 
 alms for the sam.e reasons that others dress fine. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 39 
 
 only to be seen and admired, charity is then but like 
 the vanity of fine clothes. In like manner, if the same 
 motives make some people painful and industrious in 
 their trades, which makes others constant at gaming, 
 such pains are but like the pains of gaming. 
 
 Calidus has traded above thirty years in the greatest 
 city of the kingdom ; he has been so many years con- 
 stantly increasing his trade and his fortune. Every 
 hour of the day is with him an hour of business ; and 
 though he eats and drinks very heartily, yet every 
 meal seems to be in a hurry, and he would say grace 
 if he had time. Calidus ends every day at the tavern, 
 but has not leisure to be there till near nine o'clock. 
 He is always forced to drink a good hearty glass, to 
 drive thoughts of business out of his head, and make 
 his spirits drowsy enough for sleep. He does business 
 ail the time that he is rising, and has settled several 
 matters before he can get to his counting-room. His 
 prayers are a short ejaculation or two, which he never 
 misses in stormy tempestuous weather, because he has 
 always something or other at sea. Calidus will tell 
 you, with great pleasure, that he has been in this hur- 
 ry for so many years, and that it must have killed him 
 long ago, but that it has been a rule with him to get 
 out of the town every Saturday, and make the Sunday 
 a day of quiet and good refreshment in the country. 
 
 He is now so rich, that he would leave off his busi- 
 ness, and amuse his old age with building and furnish- 
 ing a fine house in the country, but that he is afraid 
 he should grow melancholy, if he was to quit his busi- 
 ness. He will tell you, with great gravity, that it is a 
 dangerous thing for a man that has been used to get 
 money ever to leave it off. If thoughts of religion 
 happen at any time to steal into his head, Calidus 
 contents himself with thinking that he never was a 
 friend to heretics and infidels, that he has always been 
 civil to the minister of his parish, and very often given 
 something to the charity-schools. 
 
 Now, this way of life is at such a distance from all 
 
 D 4 
 
40 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 the doctrine and discipline of Christianity^ that no one 
 can live in it through ignorance or frailty. Calidus can 
 no more imagine that he is born again of 
 St. John iii. the spirit; that he is in Christ a nezv 
 1 Pet. ii. 11. creature ; that he lives here as a strajiger 
 Col. iii. 1. and jnlgrim, setting his affections upon 
 tilings above, and lairing up treasures 
 in heaven : He can no more imagine this than he can 
 think that he has been all his life an apostle working' 
 miracles^ and preaching the gospel. 
 
 It must also be owned that the generality of trading 
 peoplCj especially in great towns^ are too much like 
 Calidus. You see them all the week buried in busi- 
 ness^ unable to think of any thing else, and then 
 spending* the Sunday in idleness and refreshment, in 
 wandering into the country, in such visits and jovial 
 meetings as make it often the worst day of the week. 
 
 Now, they do not live thus because they cannot sup- 
 port themselves with less care and application to busi- 
 ness ; but they live thus because they want to grow 
 rich in their trades, and to maintain their families in 
 some such figure and degree of finery as a reasonable 
 Christian life has no occasion for. Take away but 
 this temper, and then people of all trades will find 
 themselves at leisure to live every day like Christians, 
 to be careful of every duty of the gospel, to live in a 
 visible course of religion, and to be every day strict 
 observers both of private and public prayer. 
 
 Now, the only way to do this is for people to con- 
 sider their trade as something that they are obliged to 
 devote to the glory of God, something- that they are to 
 do only in such a manner as that they may make it a 
 duty to him. Nothing can be right in business that is 
 not under these rules. The apostle commands ser- 
 vants to be obedient to their masters, in singleness of 
 heart, as unto Christ ; not with e^e-service, as men 
 pleasers, but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of 
 God from the heart ; with good-will doing sei"ciceas un- 
 to the Lord, and not unto men, Eph. vi. 5. Col. iii. 22, 23. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 41 
 
 This passage sufficiently shews thai all Christians 
 are to live wholly unto God in every folate and condi- 
 tion^ during" the work of their common calling, in such 
 a manner, and for such ends, as to make it a part of 
 their devotion or service to God. Por certainly, if 
 poor slaves are not to comply with their business as 
 men-pleasers, if they are to look wholly unto God in 
 ail their actions, and serve in singleness of heart as 
 unto the Lord, surely men of other employments and 
 conditions must be as much obliged to go through 
 their business with the same singleness of heart, not 
 as pleasing the vanity of their own minds, not as gra- 
 tifying their own selfish worldly passions, but as the 
 servants of God in all that they have to do. For 
 surely no one will say that a slave is to devote his 
 state of life unto God, and make the v\'ill of God the 
 sole rule and end of his service, but that a tradesman 
 need not act with the same spirit of devotion in his 
 business ; for this is as absurd as to make it necessary 
 for one man to be more just or faithful than another. 
 
 It is therefore absolutely certain that no Christian 
 is to enter any further into business, nor for any other 
 ends, than such as he can in singleness of heart offer 
 unto God as a reasonable service. For tlie Son of 
 God has redeemed us for this only end, that we 
 should, by a life of reason and piety, live to the glory 
 of God. This is the only rule and measure for every 
 order and state of life. Without this rule, the most 
 lawful employment becomes a sinful state of life. 
 
 Take away this from the life of a clergyman, and 
 his holy profession serves only to expose him to a 
 greater damnation. Take away this from tradesmen, 
 and shops are but so many houses of greediness and 
 filthy lucre. Take away this from gentlemen, and 
 the course of their life becomes a suurce of sensuaiiiy, 
 pride, and wantonness. Take av/ay this rule from 
 our tables, and all falls into gluttony and drunkenness. 
 Take away this measure from our dress and habits, 
 and all is turned into such paint and glitter, and ridi- 
 
42 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 culous ornaments^ as are a real shame to the wearer. 
 Take away this from the use of our fortunes, and you 
 will find people sparing in nothing* but charity. Take 
 away this from our diversions, and you will find no 
 sports too silly, nor any entertainments too vain and 
 corrupt, to be the pleasure of Christians. 
 
 If, therefore, we desire to live unto God, it is ne- 
 cessary to bring our whole life under this law, to make 
 his glory the sole rule and measure of our acting in 
 every employment of life ; for there is no other true 
 devotion but this, of living devoted to God in tha 
 common business of our lives. 
 
 So that men must not content themselves with the 
 lawfulness of their employments, but must consider 
 whether they use them as they are to 
 Coloss. iii. 1. use every thing, as strangers and pil- 
 1 Pet. i. 15, grims that are baptised unto the resur- 
 16. rcction of Jesus Christ, that are to fol- 
 
 Eph. V. 26, low him in a wise and heavenly course 
 27. of life, in the mortification of all world- 
 
 ly desires, and in purifying and prepar- 
 ing their souls for the blessed enjoyment of God. 
 
 For to be vain, or proud, or covetous, or ambitious, 
 in the common course of our business, is as contrary 
 to these holy tempers of Christianity as cheating and 
 dishonesty. 
 
 If a glutton was to say in excuse of his gluttony, 
 that he only eats such things as it is lawful to eat, he 
 would make as good an excuse for himself, as the 
 greedy, covetous, ambitious tradesman, that should say 
 he only deals in lawful business. For as a Christian 
 is not only required to be honest, but to be of a Chris- 
 tian spirit, and make his life an exercise of humility, 
 repentance, and heavenly affection, so all tempers that 
 are contrary to these are as contrary to Christianity 
 as cheating is contrary to honesty. 
 
 So that the matter plainly comes to this ; all irregu- 
 lar tempers in trade and business are but like irregu- 
 lar tem.pers in eating and drinking. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 41 
 
 Proud views and vain desires in our worldly em- 
 ployments are as truly vices and corruptions as hy- 
 pocrisy in prayer, or vanity in alms. And there can 
 be no reason given why vanity in our alms should 
 make us odious to God, but what will prove any other 
 kind of pride to be equally odious. He that labours 
 and toils in a calling-, that makes a figure in the world, 
 and draws the eyes of people upon the splendour of his 
 condition, is as far from the pious humility of a Chris- 
 tian as he that gives alms that he may be seen of men. 
 For the reason why pride and vanity in our prayers 
 and alms render them an unacceptable service to God, 
 is not because there is any thing particular in prayers 
 and alms that cannot allow of pride, but because pride 
 is in no respect nor in any thing made for man ; it 
 destroys the piety of our prayers and alms, because it 
 destroys the piety of every thing that it touches, and 
 renders every action that it governs incapable of be- 
 ing offered unto God. 
 
 So that, if we could so divide ourselves as to be 
 humble in some respects, and proud in others, such 
 humility would be of no service to us, because God re- 
 quires us as truly to be humble in all our actions and 
 designs, as to be true and honest in them. 
 
 And as a man is not honest and true, because he is 
 not so to a great many peeple, or upon several occa- 
 sions, but because truth and honesty is the measure of 
 all his dealings with every body, so the case is the same 
 in humility or any other temper ; it must be the gene- 
 ral ruling habit of our minds, and extend itself to all 
 our actions and designs, before it can be imputed to us. 
 
 We indeed sometimes talk as if a man might be 
 humble in some things, and proud in others, humble 
 in his dress, but proud of his learning, humble in his 
 person, but proud in his views and designs. But 
 though this may pass in common discourse, where few 
 things are said according to strict truth, it cannot be 
 allowed when we examine into the nature of our ac- 
 tions. 
 
44 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 . It is very possible for a man that lives by cheating 
 to be very punctual in paying; for what he buys^ but 
 then every one is assured that he does not do so out of 
 any principle of true honesty. . 
 
 In like manner^ it is very possible for a man that is 
 proud of his estate^ ambitious in his views^ or vain of 
 his learning', to disregard his dress and person in such 
 a manner as a truly humble man would do ; but to 
 suppose that he does so out of a true principle of re- 
 ligious humility is full as absurd as to suppose that a 
 cheat pays for what he buys out of a principle of reli- 
 gious honesty. 
 
 As, therefore, all kinds of dishonesty destroy our 
 pretences to an honest principle of mind, so ail kinds 
 of pride destroy our pretences to an humble spirit. 
 
 No one wonders tiiat those prayers and alms which 
 proceed from pride and ostentation are odious to God ; 
 but yet it is as easy to she^v that pride is as pardon- 
 able there as any \^here else. 
 
 If we could suppose that God rejects pride in our 
 prayers and alms, but Ijears with pride in our dress, 
 our persons, or estates, it would be the same thing as 
 to suppose that God condemns falshood in some ac- 
 tions, but allows it in others ; for pride in one thing 
 differs from pride in another thing, as the robbing of 
 one man differs from the robbing of another. 
 
 Again, if pride and ostentation are so odious that 
 they destroy the merit and worth of the most reasons 
 able actions, surely they must be equally odious in 
 those actions which are only founded in the Aveakness 
 and infirmity of our nature. Thus alms are com- 
 manded by God as excellent in themselves, as true in- 
 stances of divine temper, but clothes are only allowed 
 to cover our shame ; surely, therefore, it must at least 
 be as odious a degree of pride to be vain in our 
 clothes, as to be vain in our alms. 
 
 Again, we are commanded to pray without ceasing, 
 as a means of rendering our souls more exalted and 
 divine, but wc are forbidden to lay up treasures upon 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 45 
 
 earth ; and can we think that it is not as bad to be 
 vain of those treasures which we are forbidden to lay 
 up, as to be vain of those prayers which we are com- 
 manded to make.' 
 
 Women are required to have their heads covered, 
 and to adorn themselves with shamefacedness ; if, 
 therefore^ they are vain in those things 
 which are expressly forbidden, if they 1 Cor. xi. 13. 
 patch and paint that part which can 
 only be adorned by shamefacedness, 1 Tim. ii, 9. 
 surely they have as much to repent of 
 for such a pride, as they have whose pride is the mo- 
 tive to their prayers and charity. This must be 
 granted, unless we will say that it is more pardonable 
 to glory in our shame, than to glory in our virtue. 
 
 All these instances are only to shew us the great ne- 
 cessity of such a regular and uniform piety as extends 
 itself to all the actions of our common life. 
 I That we must eat and drink, and di*ess and dis- 
 j course, according* to the sobriety of the Christian spi- 
 l rit, engage in no employments but such as we can 
 ; truly devote unto God, nor pursue them any further 
 ; than as they conduce to the reasonable ends of a holy 
 devout life. 
 
 That we must be honest, not only on particular oc- 
 casions, and in such instances as are applauded" in the 
 world, easy to be ])erformed, and free from danger or 
 loss, but from such a living- principle of justice as 
 makes us love truth and integrity in all its instances, 
 follow it through all dangers, and ai^ainst all opposition ; 
 as knowing that the more we pay for any truth, the 
 b'etter is our bargain, and that then our integrity be- 
 comes a pearl when we have parted Avith all to keep it. 
 That we must be humble, not only in such instances 
 as are expected in the world, or suitable to our tem- 
 pers, or confined to particular occasions, but in such 
 an humility of spirit, as renders us meek and lowly in 
 the whole course of our lives, as shews itself in our 
 dress, our person, our conversation, our enjoyment of 
 
46 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 the world, the tranquility of our minds, patience under 
 injuries, submission to superiors, and condescension to 
 those that are below us ; and in ail the outward ac- 
 tions of our lives. 
 
 That we must devote not only time and places to 
 prayer, but be every where in the spirit of devotion, 
 with hearts always set towards heaven, looking up to 
 God in all our actions, and doing every thing* as his 
 servants ; living in the world as in an holy temple of 
 God, and always worshipping him, though not with 
 our lips, yet with the thankfulness of our hearts, the 
 holiness of our actions, and the pious and charitable 
 use of all his gifts. That we must not only send up 
 petitions and thoughts now and then to heaven, but 
 must go through all our worldly business with an 
 heavenly spirit, as members of Christ's mystical body, 
 and, with new hearts and new minds, are to turn an 
 earthly life into a preparation for a life of greatness 
 and glory in the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 Now, the only way to arrive at this piety of spirit 
 is to bring all your actions to the same rule as your 
 devotions and alms. You very well know what it is 
 that makes the piety of your alms or devotions ; now, 
 the same rules, the same regard to God, must render 
 every thing else that you do a fit and acceptable ser- 
 vice unto God. 
 
 Enough, I hope, has been said to shew you the ne- 
 cessity of thus introducing religion into all the actions 
 of your common life, and of living and acting with the 
 same regard to God in all that you do, as in your 
 prayers and alms. 
 
 Eating is one of the lowest actions of our lives, it 
 is common to us with mere animals, yet we see that 
 the piety of all ages of the world has turned this ordi- 
 nary action of animal life into a piety to God, by mak^ 
 ing every meal to begin and end with devotion. 
 
 We see yet some remains of this custom in most 
 Christian families ; some such little formality as shews 
 you that people used to call upon God at the begin- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY £lFE. 47 
 
 ning and end of their meals. But, indeed, it is now 
 generally so performed, as to look more like a mock- 
 ery of devotion than any solemn application of the 
 mind unto God. In one house you may perhaps see 
 the head of the family just pulling off his hat, in ano- 
 ther half getting- up from his seat ; another shall, it 
 may be, proceed so far as to make as if he said some- 
 thing ; but, however, these little attempts are the re- 
 mains of some devotion that was formerly used at 
 such times^ and are proofs that religion has belonged 
 to this part of common life. 
 
 But to such a pass are we now come^ that though 
 the custom is yet preserved, yet we can hardly bear 
 with him that seems to perform it with any degree of 
 seriousness^ and look upon it as a sign of fanatical tem- 
 per, if a man has not finished as soon as he begins. 
 
 I would not be thought to plead for the necessity of 
 long prayers at these times ; but this much 1 think 
 may be said, that if prayer is proper at these times, 
 we ought to oblige ourselves to use such a form of 
 words as should shew that we solemnly appeal to God 
 for such graces and blessings as are proper to the oc- 
 casion ; otherwise the mock ceremony, instead of 
 blessing our victuals, does but accustom us to trifle 
 with devotion, and gives us a habit of being unaffected 
 with our prayers. 
 
 If every head of a family was, at the return of every 
 meal, to oblige himself to make a solemn adoration of 
 God in such a decent manner as becomes a devout mind, 
 it would be very likely to teach him, that swearing, 
 sensuality, gluttony, and loose discourse, were very 
 improper at those meals which were to begin and end 
 with devotion. 
 
 And if, in these days of general corruption, this part 
 of devotion is fallen into a mock ceremony, it must be 
 imputed to this cause, that sensuality and intemperance 
 have got too great a power over us to suffer us to add 
 any devotion to our meals. But this much must be 
 said, that when we are as pious as Jews and heathens 
 
48 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 of al! ages Imve been, we shall think it proper to pray 
 at the beginning and end of our meals. 
 
 I have appealed to this pious custom of all ages of 
 the world, as a proof of the reasonableness of the doc- 
 trine of this and the foregoing chapters ; that is^ as a 
 proof that religion is to be the rule and measure of 
 ail the actions of ordinary life. For surely, if we are 
 not to eat but under such rules of devotion, it must 
 plainly appear, that whatever else we do must, in its 
 proper way, be done with the same regard to the glory 
 of God, and agreeably to the principles of a devout 
 and pious mind. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Persons free from the Necessity of Labour and Em- 
 ployment are to consider themselves as devoted to 
 God in a higher degree. 
 
 GREAT part of the world are free from the neces- 
 sities of labour and employments, and have their time 
 and fortunes in their own disposal. 
 
 But as no one is to live in his employment accord- 
 ing to his own humour, or for such ends as please his 
 own ikncy, but is to do all his business in such a man- 
 ner as to make it a service unto God ; so those who 
 have no particular employment are so far from being 
 left at greater liberty to live to themselves, to pursue 
 their own humours, and spend their time and fortunes 
 as they please, that they are under greater obligations 
 of living wholly unto God in all their actions. 
 
 The freedom of their state lays them under a great- 
 er necessity of always choosing and doing the best 
 things. 
 
 They are those of whom much will be required^ be- 
 cause much is given unto them. 
 
 A slave can only live unto God in one particular 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 49 
 
 way ; that is, by religious patience and submission in 
 his state of slavery. 
 
 But all ways of holy living, all instances, and all 
 kinds of virtue, lie open to those who are masters of 
 themselves, their time, and their fortunes. 
 
 It is as much the duty, therefore, of such persons to 
 make a wise use of their liberty, to devote themselves 
 to all kinds of virtue, to aspire after every thing that 
 is holy and pious, to endeavour to be eminent in all 
 good works, and to please God in the highest and most 
 perfect manner ; it is as much their duty to be thus 
 wise in the conduct of themselves, and thus extensive 
 in their endeavours after holiness, as it is the duty of a 
 slave to be resigned unto God in his state of slavery. 
 
 You are no labourer or tradesman, you are neither 
 merchant nor soldier; consider yourself, therefore, 
 as placed in a state, in some degree, like that of good 
 angels, who are sent into the world as ministering 
 spirits for the .general good of mankind, to assist, pro- 
 tect, and minister for those who shall be heirs of sal- 
 vation. For the more you are free from the common 
 necessities of men, the more you are to imitate the 
 higher perfections of angels. 
 
 Had you, Serena, been obliged, by the necessities 
 of life, to wash clothes for your maintenance, or to 
 wait upon some mistress that demanded all your la- 
 bour, it would then be your duty to serve and glorify 
 God by such humihty, obedience, and faithfulness, as 
 might adorn that state of life. 
 
 It would then be recommended to your care to im- 
 prove that one talent to its greatest height ; that when 
 the time came that mankind were to be rewarded for 
 their labours by the great Judge of quick and dead, 
 you might be received wrth a well done, good and 
 faithful servaiit, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. 
 Matt. XXV. 
 
 But, as God has given you five talents, as he has 
 placed you above the necessities of life, as he has left 
 you in the hands of yourself, in the happy liberty of 
 
50 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 choosing- the most exalted ways of virtue ; as he has 
 enriched you with many gifts of fortune^ and left you 
 nothing- to do but to make the best use of a variety of 
 blessings^ to make the most of a short hfe^ to study 
 voiir own perfection^ the honour of God^ and the good 
 of your neighbour ; so it is now your duty to imitate 
 the greatest servants of God^ to inquire how the most 
 eminent saints have Hved^ to study all the arts and me- 
 thods of perfection, and to set no bounds to your love 
 and gratitude to the bountiful Author of so many 
 blessings. 
 
 It is now your duty to turn your five talents into five 
 more, and to consider how your time and leisure, and 
 health and fortune, may be made so many happy 
 means of purifying your own soul, improving your 
 fellow-creatures in the ways of virtue, and of carrying 
 you at last to the greatest heights of eternal glory. 
 
 As you have no mistress to serve, so let your own 
 soul be the object of your daily care and attendance. 
 Be sorry for its impunities, its sports, and imperfec- 
 tions, and study all the holy arts of restoring it to its 
 natural and primitive purity. 
 
 Delight in its service, and beg of God to adorn it 
 with every grace and perfection. 
 
 Nourish it with good works, give it peace in solitude, 
 get it strength in prayer, make it wise with reading, 
 enlighten it by meditation, make it tender with love, 
 sweeten it with humility, humble it with patience, en- 
 liven it with psalms and hymns, and comfort it with 
 frequent reflections upon future glory. Keep it in 
 the presence of God, and teach it to imitate those 
 guardian angels, who, though they attend to human 
 affairs, and the lowest of mankind, yet always behold 
 the face of our Father which is in heaven. St. Matth. 
 xviii. 10. 
 
 This, Serena, is your profession. For as sure as 
 God is one God, so sure it is that he has but one com- 
 mand to all mankind, whether they be bond or free, 
 rich or poor ; and that is, to act up to the excellency 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 51 
 
 of that nature which he has given them^ to live by 
 reason^ to walk in the hght of rehgion^ to use every 
 thing as wisdom directs^ to glorify God in all his gifts, 
 and dedicate every condition of life to his service. 
 
 This is the one common command of God to all 
 mankind. If you have an employment^ you are to be 
 thus reasonable, and pious and holy, in the exercise of 
 it ; if you have time, and a fortune in your own power^ 
 you are obliged to be thus reasonable, and holy and 
 pious, in the use of all your time, and all your fortune. 
 
 The right religious use of every thing, and every 
 talent, is the indispensable duty of every being that is 
 capable of knowing right and wrong. 
 
 For the reason why we are to do any thing as unto 
 God, and with regard to our duty and relation to him, 
 is the same reason why we are to do every thing as unto 
 God, and with regard to our duty and relation to him. 
 
 That which is a reason for our being wise and holy 
 in the discharge of all our business, is the same rea- 
 son for our being wise and holy in the use of all our 
 money. 
 
 As we have always the same natures, and are every 
 where the servants of the same God, as every place is 
 equally full of his presence, and every thing is equally his 
 gift, so we must always act according to the reason of our 
 nature ; Ave must do every thing as the servants of God; 
 we must live in every place as in his presence; we must 
 use every thing as that ought to be used which belongs 
 to God. 
 
 Either this piety, and wisdom, and devotion, is to 
 go through every way of life, and to extend to the use 
 of every thing, or it is to go through no part of life. 
 
 If we might forget ourselves, or forget God, if we 
 might disregard our reason, and live by humour and 
 fancy in any thing, at any time, or in any place, it 
 would be as lawful to do the same in every thing, at 
 every time, and every place. 
 
 If, therefore, some people fancy that they must be 
 grave and solemn at church, but may be silly and 
 
 e2 
 
52 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 frantic at home ; that they must live by some rule on 
 the Sunday, but may spend other days by chance ; 
 that they must have some times of prayer, but may 
 waste the rest of their time as they please ; that they 
 must give some money in charity, but may squander 
 away the rest as they have a mind ; such people have 
 not enough considered the nature of religion, or tlie 
 true reason of piety. For he who, upon principles of 
 reason^ can tell why it is good to be wise and heaven- 
 ly-minded at church, can tell that it is always desirable 
 to have the same tempers in all other places. He that 
 truly knows why he should spend any time well, 
 knows that it is never allowable to throw any time 
 away. He that rightly understands the reasonableness 
 and excellency of charity, will know that it can never 
 be excusable to waste any of our money in pride and 
 folly, or in any needless expenses. 
 
 For every argument that shews the wisdom and ex- 
 cellency of charity, proves the wisdom of spending all 
 our fortune well. Every argument that proves the 
 wisdom and reasonableness of having times of prayer, 
 shews the wisdom and reasonableness of losing' none 
 of our time. 
 
 If any one could shew that we need not always act 
 as in the divine presence, that we need not consider 
 and use every thing as the gift of God, that we need 
 not always live by reason, and make religion the rule 
 of all our actions, the same arguments would shew that 
 we need never act as in the presence of God, nor 
 make religion and reason the measure of any of our 
 actions. If, therefore, we are to live unto God at any 
 time or in any place, we are to live unto him at all 
 times and all places. If we are to use any thing as the 
 gift of God, we are to use every thing as his gift. If 
 we are to do any thing by strict rules of reason and 
 piety, we ought to do everything in the same manner; 
 because reason, and wisdom, and piety, are as much 
 the best things at all times and in all places, as they 
 are the best thing's at any time or in any place. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE, 53 
 
 If it is our glory and happiness to have a rational 
 nature, that is endued with wisdom and reason, that is 
 capable of imitating- the divine nature, then it must be 
 our glory and happiness to improve our reason and 
 wisdom, to act up to the excellency of our rational na- 
 ture, and to imitate God in all our actions to the ut- 
 most of our power. They, therefore, who confine 
 religion to times and places, and some little rules of re- 
 tirement, who think that it is being too strict and rigid 
 to introduce religion into common life, and make it 
 give laws to all their actions and ways of living, they 
 who think thus not only mistake, but they mistake the 
 whole nature of religion ; for surely they mistake the 
 whole nature of religion who can think any part of 
 their life is made more easy for being free from it. 
 They may well be said to mistake the whole nature of 
 wisdom who do not think it desirable to be always 
 wise. He has not learned the nature of piety who 
 thinks it too much to be pious in all his actions. He 
 does not sufficiently understand what reason is^ who 
 does not earnestly desire to live in every thing ac- 
 cording to it. 
 
 If we had a religion that consisted in absurd super- 
 stitions, that had no regard to the perfection of our 
 nature, people might well be glad to have some part 
 of their life excused from it. But as the religion of 
 the gospel is only the refinement and exaltation of 
 our best faculties^ as it only requires a life of the high- 
 est reason, as it only requires us to use this world as 
 in reason it ought to be used, to live in 'such tempers 
 as are the glory of intelligent beings, to walk in such 
 wisdom as exalts our nature, and to practise such 
 piety as will raise us to God, Who can think it griev- 
 ous to live always in the spirit of such a religion^ to 
 have every part of his life full of it, but he that would 
 think it much more grievous to be as the angels of 
 God in heaven. 
 
 Further, as God is one and the same being, always 
 acting like himself, and suitably to his own nature, so 
 
 e3 
 
54 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 it is the duty of every being that he has created to 
 live according to the nature that he has given it^ and 
 always to act like itself. 
 
 It iSj therefore^ an immutable law of God^ that all 
 rational beings should act reasonably in all their ac- 
 tions ; not at this time^ or in that place^, or upon this 
 occasion, or in the use of some particular thing, but at 
 all times, in ail places, on all occasions, and in the use 
 of all things. This is a law that is as unchangeable as 
 God, and can no more cease to be, than God can cease 
 to be a God of wisdom and order. 
 
 When, therefore, any being that is endued with 
 reason does an unreasonable thing at any time, or in 
 any place, or in the use of any thing, it sins against 
 the great law of its nature, abuses itself, and sins 
 against God, the author of that nature. 
 
 They, therefore, who plead for indulgences and va- 
 nities, for any foolish fashions, customs, and humours 
 of the world, for the misuse of our time or money, 
 plead for a rebellion against our nature, for a rebel- 
 lion against God, who has given us reason for no 
 other end than to make it the rule and measure of all 
 our ways of life. 
 
 When, therefore, you are guilty of any folly or ex- 
 travagance, or indulge in any vain temper, do not 
 consider it as a small matter, because it may seem so 
 if compared to some other sins ; but consider it as it 
 is acting contrary to your nature, and then you will 
 see that there is nothing small that is unreasonable. 
 Because all unreasonable ways are contrary to the 
 nature of all rational beings, whether men or angels ; 
 neither of which can be any longer agreeable to God 
 than as they act according to the reason and excel- 
 lence of their nature. 
 
 The infirmities of human life make such food and 
 raiment necessary for us as angels do not want ; but 
 then it is no more allowable for us to turn these neces- 
 sities into follies, and indulge ourselves in the luxury 
 of food, or the vanities of dress, than it is allowable for 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE, 55 
 
 angels to act below the dignity of their proper state. 
 For a reasonable life, and a wise use of our proper 
 condition, is as much the duty of all men, as it is the 
 duty of all angels and intelligent beings. These are 
 not speculative flights or imaginary notions, but are 
 plain and undeniable laws, that are founded in the 
 nature of rational beings, who as such are obliged to 
 live by reason, and glority God by a continual right 
 use of their several talents and faculties. So that 
 though men are not angels, yet they may know for 
 what ends, and by what rules, men are to live and act, 
 by considering the state and perfection of angels. Our 
 blessed Saviour has plainly turned our thoughts this way, 
 by making this petition a constant part of all our prayers. 
 Thy will he done on earth, as it is in heaven ; a plain 
 proof that the obedience of men is to imitate the obedi- 
 ence of angels, and that rational beings on earth are to 
 live unto God, as rational beings in heaven live unto him. 
 
 When, therefore, you would represent to your 
 mind how Christians ought to live unto God, and in 
 what degrees of wisdom and holiness they ought to use 
 the things of this life, you must not look at the 
 world, but you must look up to God, and the society 
 of angels, and think what wisdom and holiness are 
 lit to prepare you for such a state of glory ; you must 
 look to all the highest precepts of the gospel; ex- 
 amine yourself by the spirit of Christ ; you must think 
 how the wisest men in the world have lived ; you must 
 think how departed souls would live, if they were 
 again to act the short part of human life ; you must 
 think what degrees of wisdom and holiness you will 
 wish for when you are leaving the world. 
 
 Now, all this is not overstraining the matter, or 
 proposing to ourselves any needless perfection. It is 
 but barely complying with the apostle's advice, where 
 he says. Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, 
 zi)hatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are 
 pure, whatsoever things are of good report; ij there 
 be any virtue, and if there he any praise, think on 
 
 E 4 
 
56 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 these things. Phil. iv. 8. For no one can come near 
 the doctrine of this passage but he that proposes to 
 himself to do every thing- in this life as a servant of 
 God, to live by reason in everything that he does, and 
 to make the wisdom and holiness of the gospel the 
 rule and measure of his desiring and using- every gift 
 of God. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Containing the great Obligatiofis, and the great Ad' 
 vantages of making a wise and religious Use of 
 our Estates and Fortunes. 
 
 AS the holiness of Christianity consecrates all states 
 and employments of life unto God ; as it requires us to 
 aspire after an universal obedience, doing and using- 
 every thing as the servants of God, so are we more es' 
 pecially obliged to observe this religious exactness in 
 the use of our estates and fortunes. 
 
 The reason of this would appear very plain^ if we 
 were only to consider that our estate is as much 
 the gift of God as our eyes or our hands, and is no 
 more to be buried, or thrown away at pleasure, than 
 we are to put out our eyes^ or throw away our limbs as 
 we please. 
 
 But, besides this consideration, there are several 
 other great and important reasons why we should be 
 religiously exact in the use of our estates. 
 
 First, Because the manner of using our money, or 
 spending our estate, enters so far into the business of 
 every day, and makes so great a part of our common 
 life, that our common life must be much of the same 
 nature as our common way of spending our estate. 
 If reason and religion govern us in this, then reason 
 and religion have got great hold of us ; but if humour, 
 pride, and fancy are the measures of our spending- our 
 estates, then humour, pride, and fancy will have the 
 direction of the greatest part of our life. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 57 
 
 Second!}/, Another great reason for devoting all our 
 estate to right uses is this^ because it is capable of 
 being- used to the most excellent purposes, and is so 
 great a means of doing good. If we waste it, we do 
 not waste a trifle that siguilies little, but we waste that 
 which might be made as eyes to the blind, as a hus- 
 band to the widow, as a father to the orphan. We 
 waste that which not only enables us to minister 
 worldly comforts to those that are in distress, but that 
 which might purchase for ourselves everksthig trea- 
 sures in heaven. So that, if we part with our money 
 in foolish ways, we part with a great p(>v> er of com- 
 forting our fellow-creatures, and of making ourselves 
 for ever blessed. 
 
 If there be nothing so glorious as doing good, if 
 there is nothing that makes us so like to God, then 
 nothing can be so glorious in the use of our money as 
 to use it all in works of love and "oodness, makin"- 
 ourselves friends, fathers, benefactors, to all our fei- 
 low-creatures, imitating the divine love, and turning 
 all our power into acts of generosity, care^ and kind- 
 ness, to such as are in need of it. 
 
 If a man had eyes, and hands, and feet, which he 
 could give to those that wanted them ; if he should 
 either lock them up in a chest, or please himself with 
 some needless or ridiculous use of them, instead of 
 giving them to his brethren that were blind and lame, 
 should we not justly reckon him an inhuman wretch? 
 If he should rather choose to amuse himself with fur- 
 nishing his house with those things, than to entitle 
 himself to an eternal reward by giving them to those 
 that wanted eyes and hands, might we not justly reck- 
 on him mad? 
 
 Now, money has very much the nature of eyes and 
 feet ; if we either lock it up in chests, or Avaste it in 
 needless and ridiculous expenses upon ourselves, 
 whilst the poor and the distressed want it for their 
 necessary uses ; if we consume it in the ridiculous or- 
 naments of apparel^ while others are starving in na- 
 
58 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 kedness, we are not far from the cruelty of him that 
 chooses rather to adorn his house witli the hands and 
 eyes than to give them to those that want them. If 
 we choose to indulge ourselves in such expensive en- 
 joyments as have no real use in them^ such as satisfy 
 no real want^ rather than to entitle ourselves to an 
 eternal reward, by disposing of our money well^ w^ 
 are guilty of his madness^ who rather chooses to lock 
 up eyes and hands than to make himself for ever bless- 
 ed^ by giving them to those that want them. 
 
 For, after wc have satisfied our own sober and rea- 
 sonable wants, all the rest of our money is but like 
 spare eyes or hands ; it is something that we cannot 
 keep to ourselves without being foolish in the use of 
 it, something- that can only be used well by giving it 
 to those that v/ant it. 
 
 Thirdli/, If we waste our money, we are not only 
 guilty of v*asting a talent which God has given us, Ave 
 are not only guilty of making that useless which is so 
 powerful a means of doing good, but we do ourselves 
 this further harm, that we turn this useful talent into 
 a powerful means of corrupting ourselves ; because, 
 as far as it is spent wrong, so far it is spent in the sup- 
 port of some V, rong temper, in gratifying some vain 
 and unreasonable desires in conforming to those fa- 
 shions and pride of tlie world, which, as Christians 
 and reasonable men, we are obliged to renounce. 
 
 As wit and fine parts cannot be trifled away and 
 only lost, but will lead those that have them into 
 greater follies, if they arc not strictly devoted to piety, 
 so money, if it is not used strictly according to reason 
 and religion, cannot only be trifled away, but it will 
 betray people into greater follies, and make them live 
 a more silly and extravagant life than they could have 
 
 / done without it. If, therefore, you do not spend your 
 money in doing good to others, you must spend it to 
 the hurt of yourself You will act like a man that 
 
 * should refuse to give that as a cordial to a sick friend, 
 which he could not drink himself without inflaming- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 59 
 
 his blood. For this is the case with superfluous mo- 
 ney ; if you give it to those that want it^ it is a cor- 
 dial; if you spend it upon yourself in something- that 
 you do not want, it only inflames and disorders your 
 mind, and makes you worse than you would be with- 
 out it. 
 
 Consider again the forementioned comparison : If 
 the man that would not make a right use of spare eyes 
 and hands should, by continually trying to use them 
 himself, spoil his own eyes and hands, we might justly 
 accuse him of still greater madness. 
 
 Now, this is truly the case of riciies spent upon our- 
 selves in vain and needless expenses ; in trying to use 
 them where they have no real use, nor we any real 
 want, we only use them to our great hurt, in creating 
 unreasonable desires, in nourishing ill tempers, in in- 
 dulging our passions, and supporting a worldly vain 
 turn of mind. For high eating and drinking, fine 
 clothes, and line houses, state and equipages, gay 
 pleasures and diversions, do all of them naturally hurt 
 and disorder our hearts ; they are the food and nou- 
 I'ishment of all the folly and weakness of our nature,, 
 and are certain means to make us vain and worldly in 
 our tempers. They are all of them the support of 
 something that ought not to be supported : they are 
 contrary to that sobriety and piety of heart which re- 
 lishes divine things ; they are like so many weights 
 upon our minds, that make us less able and less inclin- 
 ed to raise up our thoughts and affections to the things 
 that are above. 
 
 So that money thus spent is not merely wasted or 
 lost, but it is spent to bad purposes and miserable ef- 
 fects, to the corruption and disordea' of our hearts, 
 and to the making us less able to live up to the sub- 
 lime doctrines of the gospel ; it is but like keeping 
 money from the poor to buy poison for ourselves. 
 
 For what is spent in the vanity of dress, may be 
 reckoned so much laid out to fix vanity in our minds. 
 So much as is laid out on idleness and indulgence, may 
 
60 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 be reckoned so much given to render our hearts dull 
 and sensual. So much as is spent in state or equi- 
 pagCj may be reckoned so much spent to dazzle your 
 own eyes^ and render you the idol of your own imagi- 
 nation. And so in every thing, when you go from 
 reasonable \vants^ you only support some unreason- 
 able temper, some turn of mind which every good 
 Christian is called upon to renounce. 
 
 So that, on a!i accounts, whether we consider our 
 fortune as a talent and trust from God, or the great 
 good tliat it enables us to do, or the great harm that it 
 does to ourselves, if idly spent; on all these great ac- 
 counts, it appears that it is absolutely necessary to 
 make reason and religion the strict rule of using all 
 our fortune. 
 
 Every exhortation in scripture to be wise and rea- 
 sonable, satisfying only such Avants as God would 
 have satisfied ; every exhortation to be spiritual and 
 heavenly, pressing after a glorious change of our na- 
 ture ; every exhortation to love our neighbour as our- 
 selves, to love all mankind as God has loved them, is 
 a command to be strictly religious in the use of our 
 money. For none of these tempers can be complied 
 with unless we be wise and reasonable, spiritual and 
 heavenly, exercising a brotherly love, a godhke cha- 
 rity, in the use of all our fortune. These tempers, 
 and this use of our Avorldly goods, are so much the 
 doctrine of all the New Testament, that you cannot 
 read a chapter without being taught something of it. 
 I shall only produce one remarkable passage of scrip- 
 ture, which is sufficient to justify all that 1 have. said 
 concerning this religious use of our fortune. 
 
 " When the Son of man shall come in his glory, 
 and all tiie holy angels with him, then shall he sit 
 upon the throne of his glory. And before him shall 
 be gathered all nations ; and he shall separate them 
 one from another, as a shepherd divideth the sheep 
 from the goats ; and he shall set the sheep on his 
 right hand, but the goats on the left. Then shall the 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 61 
 
 King say unto them on his right hand. Come ye bless- 
 ed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
 you fi'om the foundation of the world, i'or 1 was an 
 hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty, and 
 ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me 
 in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; 1 was sick, ond ye vi- 
 sited me ; I was in prison, and ye came unto me. 
 Then shall he say unto them on the left hand, Depart 
 from me, ye cursed, into everlasting tire, prepared for 
 the devil and his angels ; for I was an hinigered, and 
 ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me 
 no drink ; I was a stranger, and ye took me not in ; 
 naked, and ye clothed me not ; sick, and in prison, 
 and ye visited me not. These shall go away into 
 everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life 
 eternal." 
 
 I have quoted this passage at length, because, if 
 one looks at the way of the world, one would hardly 
 think that Christians had ever read this part of scrip- 
 ture. For what is there in the lives of Christians that 
 looks as if their salvation depended upon these good 
 works? And yet the necessity of them is here asserted 
 in the highest manner, and pressed upon us by a live- 
 ly description of the glory and terrors of the day of 
 judgment. 
 
 Some people, even to those who may be reckoned 
 virtuous Christians, look upon this text only as a ge- 
 neral recommendation of occasional works of charity ; 
 whereas it shews the necessity not only of occasional 
 charities now and then, but the necessity of such an 
 entire charitable life, as is a continual exercise of all 
 &uch works of charity as we are able to j)erform. 
 
 Vou own that you have no title to salvation, if you 
 have neglected these good works ; because such per- 
 sons as have neglected them are at the last day to be 
 placed on the left hand, and banished with a depart 
 ye cursed. There is, therefore, no salvation but in 
 the performance of these good works. Who is it, 
 tiierefore, that may be said to have performed these 
 good works? Is it he that has sortietimcs assisted a 
 
6% A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 prisoner^ or relieved the poor or sick? This would 
 be as absurd as to say that he had performed the du- 
 ties of devotion who had sometimes said his prayers. 
 Is it, therefore, he that has several times done these 
 works of charity ? This can no more be said, than 
 he can be called a truly just man who had done acts 
 of justice several times. What is the rule, therefore, 
 or measure of performing- these good works? How 
 shall a man trust that he performs them as he ought ? 
 
 Now, the rule is very plain and easy, and such as 
 is common to every other virtue or good temper, as 
 well as to charity. Who is the humble, or meek, or 
 devout, or just, or faithful man ? Is it he that has se- 
 veral times done acts of humility, meekness, devotion, 
 justice, or fidelity? No, but it is he that lives in the 
 habitual exercise of these virtues. In like manner, 
 he only can be said to have performed these works of 
 charity, who lives in the habitual exercise of them to 
 the utmost of his power. He only has performed the 
 duty of divine love, who loves God w ith all his heart 
 and all his mind, and with all his strength. And he 
 only has performed the duty of these good works 
 who has done them with all his heart, and with all his 
 mind, and with all his strength ; for there is no other 
 measure of our doing good than our power of doing- it. 
 
 The Apostle St. Peter puts this cjucstion to our 
 blessed Saviour, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin 
 against me, and I forgive Mm ? till 
 seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I Mat. viii. 21. 
 sai/ not unio thee until seven times, but 
 until seventy times seven. Not as if after this num- 
 ber of offences a man might then cease to forgive ; 
 by the expression of seventy times seven, is to shew 
 us that we are not to bound our forg-iveness by any 
 number of offences, but are to continue forgiving the 
 most repeated offences against us. Thus, our Savi- 
 our saith in another place, if he tres- 
 pass against thee seven times in a day, Luke xvii. 4. 
 and seven times in a day turn again to 
 thee saying- I repent, thou shalt forgive him. Ifj 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 63 
 
 therefore, a man ceases to forgive his brother^ be- 
 cause he has forgiven him often ah'eady ; if he ex- 
 cuses himself from forgiving this man^ because he has 
 forgiven several others ; such a one breaks this law 
 of Christ, concerning the forgiving one's brother. 
 
 Now, the rule of forgiving is also the rule of giv- 
 ing ; you are not to give or do good to seven^ but to 
 seventy times seven ; you are not to cease from giv- 
 ing, because you have given often to the same person 
 or to other persons^ but must look upon yourself as 
 much obliged to continue relieving those that continue 
 in wants as you was obliged to relieve them once or 
 twice. Had it not been in your power you had been 
 excused from relieving any person once ; but if it is 
 in your power to relieve people often, it is as much 
 your duty to do it often, as it is the duty of others to 
 do it but seldom, because they are but seldom able. 
 He that is not ready to forgive every brother as often 
 as he wants to be forgiven, does not forgive like a 
 disciple of Christ ; and he that is not ready to give to 
 every brother that wants to have something given him, 
 does not give like a disciple of Christ ; for it is as ne- 
 cessary to give to seventy times seven, to live in the 
 continual exercise of all good works to the utmost of 
 our power, as it is necessary to forgive until seventy 
 times seven, and live in the habitual exercise of this 
 forgiving temper towards all that want it. 
 
 And the reason of all this is very plain, because 
 there is the same goodness, the same excellency, and 
 the same necessity of being thus charitable at one 
 time as at another. It is as much the best use of our 
 money to be always doing good with it, as it is the 
 best use of it at any particular time ; so that that 
 which is a reason for a charitable action is as good a 
 reason for a charitable life. That which is a reason 
 for forgiving one offence is the same reason for for- 
 giving all offences. For such charity has nothing to 
 recommend it to-day but what will be the same re- 
 commendation of it to-morrow ; and you cannot neg- 
 
64: A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 lect it at one time without being- guilty of the same 
 sin as if you neglected it at another time. 
 
 As sure, therefore, as these works of charity are 
 necessary to salvation, so sure is it that we are to do 
 them to the utmost of our power ; not to-day or to- 
 morrow, but through the whole course of our life. 
 If, therefore, it be our duty at any time to deny our- 
 selves any needless expenses, to be moderate and fru- 
 gal, that we may have to give to those that want, it is 
 as much our duty to do so at all times, that we may 
 be further able to do more good. For if it is at any 
 time a sin to prefer needless vain expence to works of 
 charity, it is so at all times ; because charity as much 
 excels all needless and vain expences at one time as at 
 another. So that if it is ever necessary to our salva- 
 tion to take care of these works of charity, and to see 
 that we make ourselves in some degree capable of 
 doing them, it is as necessary to our salvation to take 
 care to make ourselves as capable as we can be of 
 performing them in all the parts of our life. 
 
 Either, therefore, you must so far renounce your 
 Christianity as to say, that you need never perform 
 any of these good works ; or you must own that you 
 are to perform them all your life in as high a degree 
 as you are able. There is no middle way to be taken, 
 any more than there is a middle way betwixt pride and 
 humility, or temperance and intemperance. If you 
 do not strive to fulfil all charitable works, if you neg- 
 lect any of them that are in your power, and deny as- 
 sistance to those that want what you can give, let it be 
 when it will or where it will, you number yourself 
 amongst those that want Christian charity ; because 
 it is as much your duty to do good with all that you 
 have, and to live in the continual exercise of good 
 works, as it is your duty to be temperate in all that you 
 eat and drink. 
 
 Hence also appears the necessity of renouncing all 
 those foolish and unreasonable expenses which the 
 pride and folly of mankind has made so common and 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 65 
 
 fashionable in the world. For, if it is necessary to do 
 good works as far as you are able, it must be as ne- 
 cessary to renounce those needless ways of spending 
 money, which render you unable to do works of cha- 
 rity. 
 
 You must therefore no more conform to these ways 
 of the world, than you must conform to the vices of 
 the world ; you must no more spend with those that 
 idly waste their money as their own humour leads 
 them, than you must drink with the drunken, or in- 
 dulge yourself with the epicure ; because a course of 
 such expenses is no more consistent with a life of cha- 
 rity, than excess in drinking is consistent with a hfeof 
 sobriety. When, therefore, any one tells you of the 
 lawfulness of expensive apparel, of the innocency of 
 pleasing yourself with costly satisfactions, only ima- 
 gine that the same person was to tell you that you 
 need not do works of charity, that Christ does not re- 
 quire you to do good unto your poor brethren, as unto 
 him, and then you will see the wickedness of such ad- 
 vice ; for to tell you that you may live in such ex- 
 penses, as to make it impossible for you to live in the 
 exercise of good works, is the same thing as telling 
 you that you need not have any care about such good 
 works themselves. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 How the imprudent use of an Estate corrupts all the 
 tempers of the Mind, and fills the heart ivith poor 
 and ridiculous passions through the whole course of 
 Life ; represented in the Character o/'Plavia. 
 
 IT has already been observed, that a prudent and 
 religious care is to be used in the manner of spending 
 our money or estate, because the manner of spending 
 our estate makes so great a part of our common life^ 
 
 p 
 
66 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 and is so much the business of every day, that, accord- 
 ing- as we are wise or imprudent in this respect, 
 the whole course of our hves will be rendered either 
 very wise, or very full of foll3^ 
 
 Persons that are well affected to religion, that re- 
 ceive instructions of piety v/ith pleasure and satisfac- 
 tion, often wonder how it comes to pass that they 
 make no greater progress in that religion which they 
 so much admire. 
 
 Now the reason of it is this : it is because religion 
 lives only in their head, but something else has pos- 
 session of their hearts : and therefore they continue 
 from year to year, mere admirers and praisers of piety, 
 without ever coming up to the reality and perfection 
 of its precepts. 
 
 If it be asked why religion does not get possession of 
 their hearts, the reason is this ; it is not because they 
 live in gross sins or debaucheries, for their regard to 
 religion preserves them from such disorders. 
 
 But it is because their hearts are constantly em- 
 ployed, perverted, and kept in a wrong state, by the 
 indiscreet use of such things as are lawful to be used. 
 
 The use and enjoyment of their estates is lawful, 
 and therefore it never comes into their heads to imagine 
 any great danger fiom that c[uarter. They never re- 
 flect that there is a vain and imprudent use of their es- 
 tates, which, though it does not destroy like gross sins, 
 yet so disorders the heart, and supports it in such sen- 
 suality and dulness, such pride and vanity, as makes it 
 incapable of receiving the life and spirit of piety. 
 
 For our souls may receive an infinite hurt, and be 
 rendered incapable of all virtue, merely by the use of 
 innocent andlav»ful things. 
 
 What is more innocent than rest and retirement, 
 and yet what more dangerous than sloth and idleness? 
 What is more lawful than eating and drinking, and 
 yet what more destructive of all virtue, what more 
 fruitful of all vice, than sensuality and indulgence ? 
 
 How lawful and praise-worthy is the care of a fa- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 67 
 
 niily, and yet how ctMtainly are many people render- 
 ed incapable of all virtue by a worldly and solicitous 
 temper ! 
 
 Now it is for want of relii^ious exactness in the use 
 of these innocent and lawful thing-s, that religion can- 
 not get possession of our hearts ; and it is in the right 
 and prudent management of ourselves as to these 
 things, that all tlie art of holy hving chiefly consists. 
 
 Gross sins are plainly seen, and easily avoided by 
 persons that profess religion ; but the indiscreet and 
 dangerous use of innocent and lawful things, as it does 
 not shock and oflend our conscience, so it is difficult 
 to make people at all sensible of the danger of it. 
 
 A gentleman that expends all his estate in sports, 
 and a woman that lays out all her fortune upon her- 
 self, can hardly be persuaded that the spirit of religion 
 cannot exist in such a way of life. 
 
 These persons, as has been observed, may live free 
 from debaucheries ; they may be fiiends of religion, 
 so far, as to praise and speak well of it and admire it 
 in their imaginations ; but it cannot govern their 
 hearts, and the spirit of their actions, till they change 
 their way of life, and let religion give laws to the use 
 and spending of their estates. 
 
 For a woman that loves dress, that thinks no ex- 
 pense too great to bestow upon the adorning of her 
 person, cannot stop there; for that temper draws a 
 thousand other follies along with it, and will render the 
 whole course of her life, her business, her conver- 
 sation, her hopes^ her fears, her tastes, her pleasures, 
 and diversions, all suitable to it- 
 
 Flavia and Miranda are two maiden sisters, that 
 have each of them two hundred pounds a year. They 
 buried their parents twenty years ago, and have since 
 that time spent their estate as they pleased. 
 
 Flavia has been the wonder of all her friends, for 
 her excellent management in making so surprising a 
 figure on so moderate a fortune. Several ladies tha;t 
 have twice her fortune arc not able always to be so 
 
 F 7 
 
 9. 
 
68 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 genteel^ and so constant at all places of pleasure and 
 expense. She has every thing that is in the fashion, 
 and is in every place where there is any diversion. 
 Flavia is very orthodox ; she talks warmly ag-ainst he- 
 retics and schismatics^ is generally at church, and often 
 at the sacrament. She once commended a sermon that 
 was against the pride and vanity of dress, and thought 
 it was very just against Lucinda, whom she takes to be 
 a great deal finer than she need to be. If any one 
 asks Flavia to do something in charity, if she likes the 
 person who makes the proposal, or happens to be in a 
 right temper, she will toss him half-a-crown, or a 
 crown, and tell him, if he knew what a long milliner's 
 bill she had just received, he would think it a great 
 deal for her to give. A quarter of a year after this she 
 hears a sermon upon the necessity of charity ; she 
 thinks the man preaches well, that it is a very proper 
 subject, that people want much to be put in mind of 
 it ; but she applies nothing to herself, because she re- 
 members that she gave a crown some time ago, when 
 she could ill spare it. 
 
 As for poor people themselves, she will admit of no 
 complaints for them ; she is very positive they are all 
 cheats and liars, and will say any thing to get relief, 
 and therefore it must be a sin to encourage them in 
 their evil ways. 
 
 You would think Flavia had the tenderest con- 
 science in the world, if you was to see how scrupulous 
 and apprehensive she is of the guilt and danger of giv- 
 ing amiss. 
 
 She buys all books of wit and humour, and has 
 made an expensive collection of all our English poets ; 
 for she says one cannot have a true taste of any of 
 them without being very conversant with them all. 
 
 She will sometimes read a book of piety, if it is a 
 short one, if it is much commended for style and lan- 
 guage, and she can tell where to borrow it. 
 
 Flavia is very idle, and yet very fond of fine work ; 
 this makes her often sit working in bed until noonj and 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 69 
 
 be told many a long story before she is up ; so that I 
 need not tell you that her morning devotions are not 
 always rightly performed. 
 
 Plavia would be a miracle of piety, if she was but 
 half so careful of her soul as she is of her body. The 
 rising of a pimple in her face, the sting of a gnat, will 
 make her keep her room for two or three days, and she 
 thinks they are very rash people who do not take care 
 of things in time. This makes her so over-careful of 
 her health, that she never thinks she is well enough; 
 and so over-indulgent, that she never can be really 
 well. So that it costs her a great deal in sleeping- 
 draughts and waking-draughts, in spirits for the head, 
 in drops for the nerves, in cordials for the stomach, 
 and in saffron for the tea. 
 
 If you visit Flavia on the Sunday, you will always 
 meet good company, you will know what is doing in 
 the world, you will hear the last lampoon, be told who 
 wrote it, and who is meant by every name that is in 
 it. You will hear what plays were acted that week, 
 which is the finest song in the opera, who was intoler- 
 able at the last assembly, and what games are most in 
 fashion. Flavia thinks they are atheists that play at 
 cards on the Sunday, but she will tell you the nicety of 
 all the games, what cards she held, how she played 
 them, and the history of all that happened at play, as 
 soon as she comes from church. If you would know 
 who is rude and ill-natured, who is vain and foppish, 
 who lives too high, and who is in debt; if you would 
 know what is the quarrel at a certain house, or who or 
 who are not in love; if you would know how late Be- 
 linda comes home at night, what clothes she has 
 bought, how she loves compliments, and what a long 
 story she told at such a place ; if you would know 
 how cross Lucius is to his wife, what ill-natured things 
 he says to her when nobody hears him ; if you would 
 know how they hate one another in their hearts, 
 though they appear so kind in public, you must visit 
 Flavia on the Sunday. But still she has so great a 
 
 f3 
 
70 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 regard for the holiness of the Sunday, that she has turn- 
 ed a poor old wido^v out of her house, as a profane 
 wretch, for having- been found once mending her 
 clothes on the Sunday night. 
 
 Thus lives Flavia ; and if she lives ten years longer, 
 she will have spent about fifteen hundred and sixty 
 Sundays after this manner. She will have wore about 
 two hundred different .suits of clothes. Out of this 
 thirty years of her life, fifteen of them will have been 
 disposed of in bed ; and of the remaining fifteen, 
 about fourteen of them will have been consumed in 
 eating, drinking, dressing, visiting, conversing, reading 
 and hearing plays and romances at operas, assemblies, 
 balls, and diversions. For you may reckon all the 
 time she is up, thus spent, except about an hour and 
 a half that is disposed of in church, most Sundays in 
 the year. With great management and under mighty 
 rules of economy, she will have spent sixty hundred 
 pounds upon herself, bating only some shillings, 
 crowns, or half crowns, that have gone from her in 
 accidental charities. 
 
 I shall not take upon me to say, that it is impossible 
 for Flavia to be saved ; but this much must be said, 
 that she has no grounds from scripture to think she is 
 in the way of salvation. For her whole life is in di- 
 rect opposition to all those tempers and practices 
 which the gospel has made necessary to salvation. 
 
 If you were to hear her say, that she lived all her 
 life like Aniia the prophetess, who departed not from 
 the temple, hut served God with fastings and prayers, 
 night and day, you would look upon her as very ex- 
 travagant ; and yet this would be no greater extrava- 
 gance than for her to say, that she had been striving 
 to enter in at the strait gate, or making any one 
 doctrine of the gospel a rule of her life. 
 
 She may as well say, that she lived with our Saviour 
 when he was upon earth, as that she has lived in imi- 
 tation of him, or made it any part of her care to live in 
 such tempers as he required of all those that would be 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 74 
 
 his disciples. She may as truly say^ that she has every 
 (lay washed the saints' feet, as that she has lived in 
 Christian humility and poverty of spirit, and as rea- 
 sonably think that she has taught a charity-school, as 
 that she has lived in works of charity. She has as 
 much reason to think that she has been a sentinel in an 
 army, as that she has lived in watching- and self-denial. 
 And it may as fairly be said, that she has lived by the 
 labour of her hands, as that she has given all diligence 
 to make her calling and election sure. 
 
 And here it is well to be observed, that the poor 
 vain turn of mind, the irreligion, the folly and vanity 
 of this whole life of Flavia, is all owing to the manner 
 of using- her estate ; it is this that has formed her spi- 
 rit, that has given life to every idle temper, that has 
 supported every trifling passion, and kept her from all 
 thoughts of a prudent, useful, and devout life. 
 
 When her parents died, she had no thought about 
 her two hundred pounds a year, but that she had so 
 much money to do what sjie would wish, to spend 
 upon herself, and purchase the pleasures and gratifi- 
 cations of all her passions. 
 
 And it is this setting- out, this false judgment, and 
 indiscreet use of her fortune, that has filled her whole 
 life with the same indiscretion, and kept her from 
 thinking of what is right, and wise, and pious, in 
 every thing else. 
 
 ]f you have seen her delighted in plays and roman- 
 ces, in scandal and backbiting-, easily flattered, and 
 soon atfronted ; if you have seen her devoted to plea- 
 sures and diversions, a slave to every passion in its 
 turn, nice in every thing that concerned her body or 
 dress, careless of every thing that might benefit her 
 soul, always wanting some new entertainment, and 
 ready for every happy invention in sihow or dress, it 
 was because she had purchased all these tempers with 
 the yearly revenue of her fortune. 
 
 She might have been humble, serious, devout, a 
 lover of good books, an admirer of prayer and retire- 
 
 F 4 
 
72 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ment, careful of her time, diligent in good works, full 
 of charity and the love of God, but that the imprudent use 
 of her estate forced all the contrary tempers upon her. 
 
 And it was no wonder that she should turn her time, 
 her mind, her health, and strength, to the same uses 
 that she turned her fortune. It is owing to her being 
 wrong in so great an article of life, that you can see 
 nothing wise, or reasonable, or pious, in any other 
 part of it. 
 
 Now, though the irregular trifling spirit of this cha- 
 racter belongs, I hope, but to few people, yet many 
 may here learn some instruction from it, and perhaps 
 see something of their own spirit in it. 
 
 For as Flavia seems to be undone by the unreason- 
 able use of her fortune, so the lowness of most people's 
 virtue, the imperfections of their piety, and the dis- 
 orders of their passions, is generally owing to their 
 imprudent use and enjoyment of lawful and innocent 
 things. 
 
 More people are kept from a true sense and state of 
 religion by a regular kind of sensuality and indulg- 
 ence, than by gross drunkenness. More men live re- 
 gardless of the great duties of piety, through too great 
 a concern for worldly goods, than through direct in- 
 justice. 
 
 This man would perhaps be devout, if he was not 
 so great a virtuoso. Another is deaf to all the motives 
 to piety, by indulging an idle, slothful temper. 
 
 Could you cure this man of his great curiosity and 
 inquisitive temper, or that of his false satisfaction and 
 thirst after learning, you need do no more to make 
 them both become men of great piety. 
 
 If this woman would make fewer visits, or that not 
 be always talking, they would neither of them find it 
 half so hard to be affected with religion. 
 
 For all these things are only little, when they are 
 compared to great sins ; and though they are little in 
 that respect yet they are great, as they are impedi- 
 ments and hindrances of a pious spirit. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 73 
 
 For as consideration is the only eye of the soul, as 
 the truths of religion can be seen by nothing- else ; so 
 whatever raises a levity of mind, a trifling spirit, ren- 
 ders the soul incapable of seeing, apprehending, and 
 relishing the doctrines of piety. 
 
 Would we, therefore, make a real progress in re- 
 ligion, we must not only abhor gross and notorious 
 sins, but we must regulate the innocent and lawful 
 parts of our behaviour, and put the most common and 
 allowed actions of life under the rules of discretion and 
 piety. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 How the wise and pious use of an Estate naturally 
 carrieth us to great perfection in all the virtues of 
 the Christian Life ; represented in the Character 
 q/' Miranda. 
 
 ANY one pious regularity of any one part of our t 
 life is of great advantage, not only on its own account, 
 but as it uses us to live by rule, and think of the go- 
 vernment of ourselves. 
 
 A man of business, that has brought one part of his 
 affairs under certain rules, is in a fair way to take the 
 same care of the rest. 
 
 So he that has brought any one part of his life un- 
 der the rules of religion, may thence be taught to ex- 
 tend the same order and regularity into other parts of 
 his life. 
 
 If any one is so wise as to think his time too pre- 
 cious to be disposed of by chance, and left to be de- 
 voured by any thing that happens in his way ; if he 
 lays himself under a necessity of observing how every 
 day goes through his hands, and obliges himself to a 
 certain order of time in his business, his retirements, 
 and devotions, it is hardly to be imagined how soon 
 
74 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 such a conduct will reform^ improve, and perfect the 
 whole course of his life. 
 
 He that once knows the value, and reaps the advan- 
 tage of a well-ordered time, will not long be a stranger 
 to the value of any thing else that is of any real con- 
 cern to him. 
 
 A rule that relates even to the smallest part of our 
 life is of great benefit to us, merely as it is a rule. 
 
 For, as the proverb saith. He that hath begun zfoell, 
 has half done ; so he that has begun to live by rule, 
 has gone a great way towards the perfection of his 
 own life. 
 
 By rule must here be constantly understood a reli- 
 gious rule, observed upon a principle of duty to God. 
 
 For if a man should oblige himself to be moderate 
 in his meals only in regard to his stomach, or abstain 
 from drinking only to avoid the head-ach ; or be mo- 
 derate in his sleep, through fear of a lethargy ; he 
 might be exact in these rules, without being at all the 
 better man for them. 
 
 But when he is moderate and regular in any of 
 these things, out of a sense of Christian sobriety and 
 self-denial, that lie may offer unto God a more rea- 
 sonable and holy life, then it is that the smallest rul6 
 of this kind is naturally the beginning of great piety. 
 
 For the smallest rule in these matters is of great 
 benefit, as it teaches us some part of the government 
 of ourselves, as it keeps up a tenderness of mind, as it 
 presents God often to our thoughts, and brings a sense 
 of religion into the ordinary actions of our common 
 life. 
 
 If a man, wlienever lie was in company where any 
 one swore, talked lewdly, or spoke evil of his neigh- 
 bour, should make it a rule to himself, either gently 
 to reprove him, or if that was not proper, then to leave 
 the company as decently as he could ; he would find 
 that this little rule, like a little leaven hid in a great 
 quantity of meal, would spread and extend itself 
 throuiih the whole form of his life. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 75 
 
 If another should oblige himself to abstain on the 
 Lord's day from many innocent and law fid things^ as 
 travelling', visiting, common conversation, and dis- 
 coursing upon Avorldly matters, as trade, news, and 
 the like ; if he should devote the day, besides the pub- 
 lic worship, to greater retirement, rea(hng, devotion, 
 instruction, and the works of charity ; though it may 
 seem but a small thing, or a needless nicety, to require 
 a man to abstain from such things as may be done 
 without sin, yet whoever would try the beneht of so lit- 
 tle a rule, would perhaps thereby find such a change 
 made in his spirit, and such a taste of piety raised n\ 
 his mind, as he was an entire stranger to before. 
 
 It would be easy to shew, in many other instances, 
 how little and small matters are the first steps and na- 
 tural beginnings of great perfections. 
 
 But the two things which of all others most want 
 to be under a strict rule, and which are the greatest; 
 blessings both to ourselves and others, when they ai-e 
 rightly used, are our time and our money. These ta- 
 lents are continual means and opportunities of doing 
 g'ood. 
 
 He that is piously strict and exact in the wise ma- 
 nagement of either of these cannot be long- ignorant 
 of the right use of the other ; and he that is happy in 
 the religious care and disposal of them both is already 
 ascended several steps upon the ladder of Christian 
 perfection. 
 
 Miranda (the sister of Flavia) is a sober reasonable 
 Christian ; as soon as she was mistress of her time and 
 fortune, it was her first thought how she might best 
 fulfil every thing that God required of her in the use 
 of them, and how she might make the best and happi- 
 est use of this short life. She depends upon the truth 
 of what our blessed Lord hath said, that there is but 
 one thing iiecdf'ul, and therefore makes her whole life 
 but one continual labour after it. She has but one 
 reason for doing or not doing, for liking or not liking 
 any thing, and that is the wdl of God. She is not so 
 
76 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 weak as to pretend to add what is called the fine lady 
 to the true Christian. Miranda thinks too well to be 
 taken with the sound of such silly words ; she has re- 
 nounced the world to follow Christ in the exercise of 
 humility, charity, devotion, abstinence, and heavenly 
 aifections ; and that is Miranda's tine breeding-. 
 
 Whilst she was under her mother, she was forced 
 to be genteel, to live in ceremony, to sit iip late at. 
 nights, to be in the folly of every fashion, and always 
 visiting on Sundays. To go patched, and loaded v.ith 
 a burden of fineries to the holy sacrament ; to be in 
 every polite conversation ; to hear profaneness at the 
 play-house, and wanton songs and love intrigues at the 
 opera; to dance at pubhc places, that fops and rakes 
 might admire the fineness of her shape, and the beau- 
 ty of her motions. The remembrance of this way of 
 life makes her exceedingly careful to atone for it by a 
 contrary behaviour. 
 
 Miranda does not divide her duty between God, 
 her neighbour, and herself; but she considers all as 
 due to God, and so does every thing in his name, and 
 for his sake. This makes her consider her fortune as 
 the gift of God, that is to be used as every thing is 
 that belongs to God, for the wise and reasonable ends 
 of a Christian and holy life. Her fortune, therefore, 
 is divided betwixt herself and several other poor peo- 
 ple, and she has only her part of relief from it. She 
 thinks it tlie same folly to indulge herself in needless 
 vain expenses, as to give to other people to spend in 
 the same way. Therefore, as she will not give a poor 
 man money to go to see a puppet-show, neither will she 
 allow herself any to spend in the same manner ; think- 
 ing it very proper to be as wise herself as she expects 
 poor men should be. For it is a folly and a crime in a 
 poor man, says Miranda, to waste what is given him 
 in foolish trifles, whilst he wants meat, drink, and 
 clothes. And is it less folly, or a less crime, in me to 
 spend that money in silly diversions, which might be 
 so much better spent in imitation of the divine good- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 77 
 
 nesSj in works of kindness and charity towards m^ 
 fellow-creatures, and fellow-Christians!' If a poor 
 man's own necessities are a reason why he should not 
 waste any of his money idly, surely the necessities of 
 the poor, the excellency of charity, which is received 
 as done to Christ himself, are a much greater reason 
 why no one should ever waste any of his money ; for 
 if he does so, he does not only do, like the poor man, 
 only waste that which he wants himself, but he wastes 
 that which is wanted for the most noble use, and which 
 Christ himself is ready to receive at his hands. And 
 if we are angry at a poor man, and look upon him as 
 a wretch, when he throws away that which should buy 
 his own bread, how must we appear in the sight of 
 God, if we make a wanton idle use of that which would 
 buy bread and clothes for the hungry and naked 
 brethren, who are as near and as dear to God as we 
 are, and fellow-heirs of the same state of future glory ? 
 This is the spirit of Miranda, and thus she uses the 
 g"ifts of God ; she is only one of a certain number of 
 poor people that are relieved out of her fortune, and 
 she only differs from them in the blessedness of giving. 
 
 Excepting her victuals, she never spent ten pounds 
 a year upon herself. If you were to see her, you 
 would wonder what poor body it was that was so sur- 
 prisingly neat and clean. She has but one rule that 
 she observes in her dress, to be always clean and in 
 the cheapest things. Every thing about her resem- 
 bles the purity of her soul, and she is always clean 
 without, because she is always pure within. 
 
 Every morning sees her early at her prayers. She 
 rejoices in the beginning of every day, because it be- 
 gins all her pious rules of holy living, and brings the 
 fresh pleasure of repeating them. She seems to be 
 as a guardian -angel to those that dwell about her, with 
 her watchings and prayers blessing the place where 
 she dwells, and making intercession with God for 
 those that are asleep. 
 
 Her devotions have had some intervals, and God 
 
78 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 has heard several of her private prayers^ before the 
 lig-ht is suffered to enter into her sister's room. Mi- 
 randa does not know what it is to have a dull half-day ; 
 the returns of her liours of prayer^ and her religious 
 exercises, come too often to let any considerable part 
 of time lie heavy upon her hands. 
 
 When you see her at work^ you see the same wis- 
 dom that governs all her other actions. She is either 
 doing- something" that is necessary for herself, or ne- 
 cessary for others v» lio want to be assisted. There is 
 scarce a poor family in the neighbourhood but wears 
 something' or other that has had the labour of her 
 hands. Her wise and pious mind neither wants the 
 amusement, nor can bear with the folly of idle and 
 impertinent work.^ She can admit of no such folly 
 as this in the day, because she is to answer for all 
 hei' actions at night. AVhen there is no wisdom to be 
 observed in the employment of her hands, when there 
 is no useful or charitable work to be done^ Miranda 
 will work no more. At her table she lives strictly by 
 this rule of holy scripture, whether ye eat or drink, 
 or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. 
 This makes her begin and end every meal, as she be- 
 gins and ends every day, with acts of devotion : She 
 eats and drinks only for the sake of living, and with 
 so regular an abstinence, that every meal is an exer- 
 cise of self-denial, that she humbles her body every 
 time that'siiC is forced to feed it. If Miranda were 
 to run a race for her life^ she would submit to a diet 
 liiat ^vas proper for it. But as the race which is set 
 before her is a race of holiness, purity, and heavenly 
 affection, whicii she is to finish in a corrupt, disorder- 
 ed body of earthly passions, so her every-day diet has 
 only this one end, to make her body fitter for this 
 spiritual race. She does not weigh her meat in a 
 pair of scales, but she Aveighs it in a much better ba- 
 lance ; so much as gives a proper streng-th to her 
 hody, and renders it able and willing to obey the soul, 
 (o join in psalms and prayers, and hft up eyes and 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 79 
 
 hands towards heaven with greater readiness, so much 
 is Miranda's meal. So that Miranda will never have 
 her eyes swell with fatness, or pant under a heavy 
 load of flesh, till she has changed her religion. 
 
 The Holy Scriptures, especially of the New Testa- 
 ment, are her daily study ; these she reads with a 
 M^atcliful attention, constantly casting an eye upon 
 herself, and trying herself, by every doctrine that is 
 there. When she has the New Testament in her 
 hand, she supposes herself at the feet of our Saviour 
 and his apostles, and makes every thing that she learns 
 of them so many laws of her life. She receives their 
 sacred words with as much attention and reverence as 
 if she saw their persons, and knew that they were just 
 come from heaven on purpose to teach her the way 
 that leads to it. 
 
 She thinks that the trying herself every day by the 
 doctrines of scripture is tlie only possible way to be 
 ready for her trial at the last day. She is sometimes 
 afraid that she lays out too much money in books, be- 
 cause she cannot forbear buying all practical books of 
 any note, especially such as enter into tlic heart of re- 
 ligion, and describe the inward holiness of tlie Chris- 
 tian life. But of all human writings, the lives of pi- 
 ous persons and eminent saints are her greatest de- 
 light. In these she searches as for hidden treasure, 
 hoping to find some secret of holy living, sonic un- 
 common degree of piety, which she may make her 
 own. By this means Miranda has her head and heart 
 stored with all the principles of wisdom and holiness. 
 She is so full of the one main business of life, that she 
 finds it diflicult to converse upon any other subject ; 
 and if you are in her company when she thinks pro- 
 per to talk, you must be made wiser and better whe- 
 ther you will or not. 
 
 To relate her charity would be to relate the history 
 of every day for twenty years ; for so long has all her 
 fortune been spent that way. She has set up near ■ 
 - twenty poor tradesmen that had failed in their busii- 
 
80 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ness^ and saved as many from failing-. She has edu- 
 cated several poor children that were picked up in the 
 streets, and put them in a way of an honest employ- 
 ment. As soon as any labourer is confined at home 
 with sickness, she sends him, till he recovers, twice the 
 value of his wages, that he may have one part to give 
 to his family, as usual, and the other to provide things 
 convenient for his sickness. 
 
 If a family seems too large to be supported by the 
 labour of those that can work in it, she pays their rent, 
 and gives them something yearly towards their cloth- 
 ing. By this means there are many poor families 
 that live in a comfortable manner, and are from year 
 to year blessing her in their prayers. 
 
 If there is any poor man or woman that is more 
 than ordinarily wicked and reprobate, Miranda has 
 her eye upon them ; she watches their time of need 
 and adversity ; and if she can discover that they are 
 in any great straits of affliction, she gives them speedy 
 relief. She has this care for this sort of people, be- 
 cause she once saved a very profligate person from 
 being- carried to prison, who immediately became a 
 true penitent. 
 ^ There is nothing in the character of Miranda more 
 to be admired than this temper. For this tenderness 
 of affection towards tlie most abandoned sinners is the 
 highest instance of a divine and godlike soul. 
 
 Miranda once passed by a house where the man and 
 his wife were cursing and swearing- at one another in 
 a most dreadful manner, and three children crying; 
 about tliem ; this sight so much affected her compas- 
 sionate mind, that she went the next day and bought 
 the three children that they might not be ruined by 
 living- with such wicked parents. They now live with 
 Miranda, are blessed with her care and prayers, and 
 all the good works which she can do for them. They 
 hear her talk, they see her live, they join with her in 
 psalm's and prayers. The eldest of them has already 
 converted his parents from their wicked life^ and shews 
 
DfiVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. Sl 
 
 a turn of mind so remarkably pious, that Miranda in- 
 tends him for holy orders ; that being thus saved him- 
 self, he may be zealous in the salvation of souls, and 
 do to other miserable objects as she lias done to him. 
 I Miranda is a constant relief to poor people in their 
 misfortunes and accidents. There are sometimes lit- 
 tle misfortunes that happen to them, which of them- 
 selves they could never be able to overcome. The 
 death of a cow, or a horse, or some little robbery, 
 would keep them in distress all their lives. She does 
 not suifer them to grieve under such accidents as 
 
 ; these. She immediately gives them the full value of 
 
 I their loss, and makes use of it as a means of raising 
 
 \ their minds toAvards God. 
 
 She has a great tenderness for old people that are 
 grown past their labour. The parish allowance to 
 
 / such people is very seldom a comfortable maintenance. 
 For this reason, they are the constant objects of her 
 care ; she adds so much to their allowance, as some- 
 what exceeds the wages they got when they were 
 young. This she does to comfort the infirmities of 
 their age, that, being free from trouble and distress, 
 they may serve God in peace and tranquillity of mind. 
 She has generally a large number of this kind, who by 
 her charities and exhortations to holiness, spend their 
 
 \ last days in great piety and devotion, 
 
 INIiranda never wants compassion, even to common 
 beggars, especially towards those that are old, or sick, 
 or full of sores, that want eyes or limbs ; she hears 
 their complaints with tenderness, gives them some 
 proof of her kindness, and never rejects them with 
 hard or reproachful language, for fear of adding af- 
 fliction to her fellow-creatures. 
 
 If a poor traveller tells her that he has neither 
 strength, nor food, nor money left, she never bids him 
 go to the place from whence he came, or tells him that 
 she cannot relieve him, because he may be a cheat, or 
 she does not know him ; but she relieves him for that 
 reason, because he is a stranger, and unknown to her, 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 For it is the most noble part of charity to be kind and 
 tender to tliose whom we never saw before, and per- 
 haps never may see again in this hfe. 1 teas a stran- 
 ger, and ye took me in, saith our blessed Saviour ;~l3iit 
 who can perform this duty that will not reheve per- 
 sons that are unknown to him. 
 
 Miranda considers that Lazarus was a common beg- 
 gar, that he was the care of angels, and carried into 
 Abraham's bosom. She considers that our blessed Sa- 
 viour and his apostles were kind to beggars ; that tliey 
 spoke comfortably to them, healed their diseases, and 
 restored eyes and limbs to the lame and blind. That 
 Peter said to the beggar that wanted an alms from 
 him. Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have 
 give I thee ; in the name of Jesus Christ ofNazartth, 
 rise up and loalk. Miranda, therefore, never treats 
 beggars with disregard and aversion, but she imitates 
 the kindness of our Saviour and his apostles towards 
 them ; and though she cannot, like them, work mira- 
 cles for their relief, yet she relieves them with that 
 power which she hath ; and may say with the apostle. 
 Such as I have give I thee, in the name of Jesus Christ. 
 
 It may be, says Miranda, that I may often give to 
 those that do not deserve it, or that will make an ill use 
 of my alms. But what then ? Is not this the very 
 method of divine goodness ? Does not God make his 
 sun to rise on the evil and on the good ? Is not this 
 the very goodness that is recommended to us in scrip- 
 ture, that, by imitating of it, we may be children of 
 our Father who is in heaven, icho sendeth rain on 
 the just and on the unjust? And shall I withhold 
 a little money or food iiom my fellow-creature, for 
 fear he should not be good enough to receive it of me ? 
 Do I beg of God to deal with me not according to my 
 merit, but according to his own great goodness ; and 
 shall I be so absurd as to withhold my charity from a 
 poor brother because he may perhaps not deserve it? 
 Shall I use a measure towards him, which I pray God 
 never to use towards me ? 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 83 
 
 Besides, where has the scripture made merit the rule 
 or measure of charity ? On the contrary, the scripture 
 saith, //■ thy enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirsty 
 give him drink. 
 
 Now, this plainly teaches us that the merits of per- 
 sons are to he no rule of our charity, but that we are 
 to do acts of kindness to those that least of all deserve 
 them. For if I am to love and to do good to my worst 
 enemies ; if I am to be charitable to them, notwith- 
 standing- all their spite and malice, surely merit is no 
 measure of charity. If 1 am not to withhold my cha- 
 rity from such bad people, and who are at the same 
 time enemies, surely I am not to deny alms to poor 
 beggars whom I neither know to be bad people, nor 
 any vN^ay my enemies. 
 
 You will perhaps say that, by this means, I encou- 
 rage people to be beggars. But the same thoughtless 
 objection may be made against all kind of charities, 
 for they may encourage people to depend upon thertJ. 
 
 The same may be said against forgiving our ene- 
 mies, for it may encourage people to do us hurt. The 
 same may be said even against the goodness of God, 
 that, by pouring his blessing- on the evil and on the 
 good, on the just and on the unjust, evil and unjust 
 men are encouraged in their wicked ways. The same 
 may he said against clothing the naked, or giving me- 
 dicines to the sick, for they may encourage people to* 
 neglect themselves, and be careless of their health. 
 But when the love of God dwelleth in you, when it 
 has enlarged your heart, and filled you with bowels of 
 mercy and compassion, you will make no more such 
 objections as these. 
 
 When you are at any time turning away the poor, 
 the old, the sick and helpless traveller, the lame or the 
 blind, ask yourself this question. Do I sincerely wish 
 these poor creatures may be as happy as Lazarus, that 
 was carried by angels into Abraham's bosom ? Do I 
 sincerely desire that God would make them fellow- 
 heirs with me in eternal glory ? Now, if you search 
 
 g2 
 
84 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 into your soul, you will find that there is none of these 
 motions there^ that you are wishing nothing of this ; 
 for it is impossible for any one heartily to wish a poor 
 creature so great a happiness, and yet not have a heart 
 to give him a small alms. For this reason, says Mi- 
 randa, as far as I can I give to all, because I pray to 
 God to forgive all; and I cannot refuse an alms to 
 those whom 1 pray to God to bless, whom I wish to be 
 partakers of eternal glory ; but am glad to shew some 
 degree of love to such as, I hope, will be the objects of 
 the infinite love of God. And if, as our Saviour has 
 assured us, it be more blessed to give than to receive, 
 we ought to look upon those that ask our alms as so 
 many friends and benefactors, that come to do us a 
 greater good than they can receive ; that come to exalt 
 our virtue, to be witnesses of our charity, to be monu- 
 ments of our love, to be our advocates with God, to be 
 to us in Christ's stead, to appear for us at the day of 
 judgment, and to help us to a blessedness greater than 
 our alms can bestow on them. 
 
 This is the spirit, and this is the life of the devout 
 Miranda ; and if she lives ten years longer she will 
 have spent sixty hundred pounds in charity, for that 
 which she allows herself may be fairly reckoned 
 amongst her alms. 
 
 When she dies, she must shine amongst apostles, 
 and saints, and martyrs ; she must stand amongst the 
 first servants of God, and be glorious amongst those 
 that have fought the good fight^ and finished their 
 course with joy. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Containing some Reflections 07i the Life of Miranda, 
 and shewing how it may and ought to be imitated by 
 all her Sex. 
 NOW, this life of Miranda, which I heartily re- 
 
 f^oniraend to the imitation of her sex, however contrary 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 85 
 
 it may seem to the way and fashion of the worlds is 
 yet suitable to the true spirit, and founded upon the 
 plainest doctrines of Christianity. 
 
 To live as she does, is as truly suitable to the gospel 
 of Christ, as to be baptized or receive the sacrament. 
 
 Her spirit is that which animated the saints of for- 
 mer ages ; and it is because they lived as she does that 
 we now celebrate their memories, and praise God for 
 their examples. 
 
 There is nothing that is whimsical, trifling, or un- 
 reasonable in her character, but every thing there is 
 described in a right and proper instance of a solid and 
 real piety. 
 
 It is as easy to shew that it is whimsical to go to 
 church, or to say one's prayers, as that it is whimsical 
 to observe any of these rules of life ; for all Miranda's 
 rules of living unto God, of spending her time and for- 
 tune, of eating, working, dressing, and conversing, are 
 as substantial parts of a reasonable and holy life as de- 
 votion and prayer. 
 
 For there is nothing to be said for the wisdom of 
 sobriety, the wisdom of devotion, the wisdom of cha- 
 rity, or the wisdom of humility, but what is as good an 
 argument for the wise and reasonable use of apparel. 
 
 Neither can any thing be said against the folly of 
 luxury, the folly of sensuality, the folly of extrava- 
 g-ance, the folly of prodigality, the folly of ambition, of 
 idleness or indulgence, but what must be said against 
 the folly of dress ; for religion is as deeply concerned 
 in the one as in the, other. 
 
 If you may be vain in one thing, you may be vain in 
 every thing ; for one kind of vanity only differs from 
 another, as one kind of intemperance differs from 
 another. 
 
 If you spend your fortune in the needless vain finery 
 of dress, you cannot condemn prodigality, or extrava- 
 gance, or luxury, without condemning yourself 
 
 If you fancy that it is your own folly, and that 
 therefore there can be no great matter in it, you are 
 
 g3 
 
86 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 like those that think they are only guilty of the folly of 
 covetousness, or the folly of ambition. Now though 
 some people may live so plausible a life as to appear 
 chargeable with no other fault than that of covetous- 
 ness or ambition^ yet the case is not as it appears ; for 
 covetousness or ambition cannot subsist in a heart that 
 is_, in other respects,, rightly devoted to God. 
 
 In like manner, though some people may spend 
 most that they have in needless expensive ornaments 
 of dress, and yet seem to be, in every other respect, 
 truly pious, yet it is certahily false ; for it is as impos- 
 sible for a mind that is in a true state of religion to be 
 vain in the use of clothes, as to be vain in the use of 
 alms or devotions. Now to convince you of this from 
 your own reflections, let us suppose that some eminent 
 saint, as for instance, that the holy Virgin Mary was 
 sent into the world to be again in a state of trial for a 
 few years, and that you was going to her to be edified 
 by her great piety, would you expect to find her 
 dressed out and adorned in fine and expensive clothes? 
 No ; you would know in your own mind that it was 
 as impossible as to find her learning to dance. Do 
 but add saint or holy to any person, either man or wo- 
 man, and your own mind tells you immediately that 
 such a character cannot admit of the vanity of fine ap- 
 parel. A saint genteelly dressed is as great nonsense 
 as an apostle in an embroidered suit ; every one's own 
 natural sense convinces him of the inconsistency of 
 these things. 
 
 Now, what is the reason that, w hen you think of a 
 ifT-H^^'^ . saint or eminent servant of God, you cannot admit of 
 j^t^v 'i < the vanity of apparel ? Is it not because it is incon- 
 » I ^', sistent with such a right state of heart, such true and 
 '^'^-t- exalted piety ? And is not this, therefore, a demon- 
 f|i# * '*'^' '^ration that, where such vanity is admitted, there a 
 ^\^|**-'' right state of heart, true and exalted piety, must needs 
 1' V be wanted? For as certainly as the holy Virgin Mary 
 could not indulge herself, or conform to the vanity of 
 ' r Lji the world in dress and figure, so certain is it, that none 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 87 
 
 can indulge themselves in this vanity but those who 
 want her piety of heart ; and consequently it must be 
 owned, that all needless and expensive finery of dress 
 is the effect of a disordered heart, that is not governed 
 by the true spirit of religion. 
 
 Covetousness is not a crime, because there is any 
 harm in gold or silver, but because it supposes a fool- 
 ish and unreasonable state of mind, that is fallen from 
 its true good, and sunk into such a poor and wretched 
 satisfaction. 
 
 In like manner, the expensive finery of dress is not 
 a crime, because there is any thing- good or evil in 
 clothes, but because the expensive ornaments of cloth- 
 ing* shew a foolish and unreasonable state of hearty 
 that is fallen from right notions of human nature, that 
 abuses the end of clothing, and turns the necessities of 
 life into so many instances of pride and folly. 
 
 All the world agree in condemning remarkable fops. 
 Now, what is the reason of it ? Is it because there is 
 any thing sinful in their particular dress or affected 
 manners '{ No ; but it is because all people know that 
 it shews the state of a man's mind, and that it is im- 
 possible for so ridiculous an outside to have any thing- 
 wise, or reasonable, or good within. And, indeed, to*", 
 suppose a fop of great piety is as much nonsense j 
 as to suppose a coward of great courage. So that 
 all the world agree in owning that the use and man- 
 ner of clothes is a mark of the state of a man's mind_, 
 and consequently, that it is a thing highly essential to 
 religion. But then it should be well considered, that 
 as it is not only the sot that is guilty of intemperance^ 
 but every one that transgresses the right and religious 
 measures of eating and drinking; so it should be con- 
 sidered, that it is not only the fop that is guilty of the 
 vanity and abuse of dress, but every one that departs 
 from the reasonable and religious ends of clothing. 
 
 As, therefore, every argument against sottishness is 
 as good an argument against all kinds of intemper- 
 ancCj so every argument against the vanity of fops is 
 
 G 4 
 
88 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 as good an argument against all vanity and abuse of 
 dress ; for they are all of the same kind, and only differ 
 as 0!ie degree of intemperance may ditfer from ano- 
 ther. She that only paints a little may as justly ac- 
 cuse another^ because she paints a great deal ; as she 
 that uses but a common finery of dress, accuses ano- 
 th. '' tiiat is excessive in her finery. 
 
 For as, in the matter of temperance, there is no 
 rule but the sobriety that is according to the doctrines 
 and spirit of our religion ; so in the matter of apparel, 
 there is no rule to be observed but such a right use of 
 clothes as is strictly according to the doctrines and 
 spirit of our religion. To pretend to make the way of 
 the world our measure in these things, is as weak and 
 ahsurd as to make the way of the world the measure 
 of our sobriety, abstinence, or humility. It is a pre- 
 tence that is exceedingly absurd in the mouths of 
 Christians, who are to be so far from conforming to the 
 fashions of this life, that, to have overcome the world, 
 is made an essential mark of Christianity. 
 
 This, therefore, is the way that you are to judge of 
 the crime of vain apparel ; you are to consider it as 
 an offence against the proper use of clothes, as covet- 
 ousness is an offence against the proper use of money ; 
 you are to consider it as an indulgence of proud and 
 unreasonable tempers, as an offence against the hu- 
 mility and sobriety of the Christian spirit ; you are to 
 consider it as an offence against all those doctrines 
 that require you to do all to the glory of God, that re- 
 quire you to make a right use of your talents ; you 
 are to consider it as an off'ence against all those texts 
 of scripture that command you to love your neighbour 
 as yourself, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, 
 and do all works of charity that you are able ; so that 
 you must not deceive yourself with saying, where can 
 be the harm of clothes? for the covetous man might 
 as well say, where can be the harm of gold or silver ? 
 But you must consider, that it is a great deal of harm 
 to want that wise, and reasonable^ and humble state 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 89 
 
 of heart, which is according" to the spirit of religion, 
 and which no one can have in the manner that he 
 oug-ht to have it, who indulges himself either in the 
 vanity of dress, or the desire of riches. 
 
 There is, therefore, nothing right in the use of 
 clothes, or in the use of any thing- else in the world, 
 but the plainness and simplicity of the gospel. Every 
 other use of things (however polite and fashionable iu 
 the world) distracts and disorders the heart, and is in- 
 consistent with that inward state of piety, that purity 
 of heart, that wisdom of mind, and regularity of 
 affection, which Christianity requireth. 
 
 If you would be a good Christian, there is but one 
 way ; you must live wholly unto God, you must live 
 according to the wisdom that comes from God ; you 
 must act according to the right judgments of the na- 
 ture and value of things ; you must live in the exer- 
 cise of holy and heavenly affections, and use all the 
 gifts of God to his praise and glory. 
 
 Some persons, perhaps, who admire the purity and 
 perfection of this life of Miranda, may say, how can it 
 be proposed as a common example ! How can we 
 who are married, or we who are under the direction 
 of our parents, imitate such a life ? 
 
 It is answered, just as you may imitate the life of 
 our blessed Saviour and his apostles. The circum- 
 stances of our Saviours life, and the state and condi- 
 tion of his apostles, was more dirferent from yours 
 than that of Miranda's is ; and yet tiieir life, the puri- 
 ty and perfection of their beliaviour, is the common 
 example that is proposed to all Christians. 
 
 « It is their spirit, therefore, their piety, their love of ./juJU- 
 
 I God, that you are to imitate, and not the particular ^ 
 
 ( form of their life. 
 
 ( Act under God as they did; direct your common 
 actions to that end which they did ; glorify your pro- 
 per state with such love of God, such charity to your 
 neighbour, such humility and self-denial, as they did ; 
 and thcHj though you are only teaching your own 
 
\ 
 
 90 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 children, and St. Paul is converting" whole nations, 
 yet you are following his steps, and acting- after his 
 example. 
 
 Do not think, therefore, that you cannot or need 
 not be like Miranda, because you are not in her state 
 of life ; for as the same spirit and temper would have 
 made Miranda a saint, though she had been forced to 
 labour for a maintenance, so if you will but aspire af- 
 ter her spirit and temper, every form and condition 
 of life will furnish you with sufficient means of em- 
 ploying it. 
 
 Miranda is what she is, because she does every 
 thing- in the name, and with regard to her duty to 
 God ; and when you do the same, you will be exactly 
 like her, though you are never so different from her in 
 the outward state of your life. 
 
 You are married, you say ; therefore you have not 
 your time and fortune in your power as she has. 
 
 It is very true ; and therefore you cannot spend so 
 much time, nor so much money, in the manner that 
 she does. 
 
 But now Miranda's perfection does not consist in 
 lis, that she spends so much time, or so much money 
 in such a manner, but that she is careful to make the 
 best use of ail that time, and all that fortune, which 
 God has put into her hands. Do you, therefore, make 
 the best use of all that time and money which is in 
 your disposal, and then you are like Miranda. 
 
 If she has two hundred pounds a year, and you 
 have only two mites, have you not the more reason to 
 be exceeding- exact in the wisest use of it? If she has 
 a deal of time, and you have but a little, ought you 
 not to be the more watchful and circumspect, lest that 
 little should be lost? 
 
 You say, if you were to imitate the cleanly plain- 
 ness and cheapness of her dress, you should oifend 
 your husbands. 
 
 First, Be very sure that this is true^ before you 
 make it an excuse. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 01 
 
 Secondly/, If your husbands do really require you 
 to patch your faces, to expose your breasts naked, and 
 to be fine and expensive in all your apparel, then take 
 these two resolutions : 
 
 First, To forbear from all this as soon as your hus- 
 bands Avill permit you. 
 
 Secondly/, To use your utmost endeavours to re- 
 commend yourselves to their affections by such solid 
 virtues as may correct the vanity of their minds, and 
 teach them to love you for such qualities, as will make 
 you amiable in the sight of God and his holy ang^els. 
 
 As to this doctrine concernino' the plainness and 
 modesty of dress, it may perhaps be thought by some 
 to be sufficiently confuted by asking, whether all per- 
 sons are to be clothed in the same manner? 
 
 These questions are generally put by those who 
 had rather perplex the plainest truths than be obliged 
 to follow them. 
 
 Let it be supposed that I had recommended an uni- 
 versal plainness of diet ; is it not a thing sufficiently 
 reasonable to be universally recommended? But 
 would it thence follow that the nobleman and the la- 
 bourer were to live upon the same food? 
 
 Suppose I had pressed an universal temperance, 
 does not religion enough justify such a doctrine? But 
 would it therefore follow that all people were to drink 
 the same licjuors, and the same quantity ? 
 
 In like manner, though plainness and sobriety of 
 dress is recommended to all, yet it does by no means 
 follow that all are to be clothed in the same manner. 
 
 Now, what is the particular rule with regard to 
 temperance? How shall particular persons, that use 
 different liquors, and in different quantities, preserve 
 their temperance ? 
 
 Is not this the rule ? Are they not to guard against 
 indulgence, to make their use of liquors a matter of 
 conscience, and to allow of no refreshments but such 
 as are consistent with the strictest rules of Christian 
 pobriety ? 
 
92 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Now, transfer this rule to the matter of apparel, 
 and all questions about it are answered. 
 
 Let every one but guard ag-ainst the vanity of dress, 
 let them but make their use of clothes a matter of con- 
 science, let them but desire to make the best use of 
 their money, and then every one has a rule that is suf- 
 ficient to direct them in every state of life. This rule 
 will no more let the great be vain in their dress, than 
 intemperate in their liquors ; and yet will leave it as 
 lawful to have some difference in their drink. 
 
 But now will you say, that you may use the finest 
 richest wines, when and as you please, that you may 
 be as expensive in them as you have a mind, because 
 different liquors are allowed ? If not, how can it be 
 said that you may use clothes as you please, and wear 
 the richest things you can get, because the bare dif- 
 ference of clothes is lawful .' 
 
 For as the lawfulness of different liquors leaves no 
 room, nor any excuse, for the smallest degree of in- 
 temperance in drinking; so the lawfulness of different 
 apparel leaves no room, nor any excuse, for the small- 
 est degrees of vanity in dress. 
 
 To ask what is vanity in dress, is no more a puz- 
 zling question than to ask wlipt is intemperance in 
 drinking ; and though religion does not here state the 
 particular measure for ail individuals, yet it gives such 
 general rules as are a sufficient direction in every state 
 of life. 
 
 He that lets religion teach him that the end of drink- 
 ing is only so far to refresh our spirits as to keep us 
 in good health, and make soul and body fitter fqr all 
 the offices of a holy and pious life, and that he is to 
 desire to glorify God by a right use of this liberty, 
 will always know what intemperance is in his particu- 
 lar state. 
 
 So he that lets religion teach him that the end of 
 clothing is only to hide our shame and nakedness, 
 and to secure our bodies from the injuries of weather, 
 and that he is to desire to glorify God by a sober and 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 93 
 
 wise use of this necessity, will always know what va- 
 nity of dress is in his particular state. 
 
 And he that thinks it a needless nicety to talk of the 
 religious use of apparel, has as much reason to think 
 it a needless nicety to talk of the relig'ious use of li- 
 quors ; for luxury and indulgence in dress is as great 
 an ahuse as luxury and indulgence in eating- and drink- 
 ing-; and there is no avoiding- either of tliem, but by 
 making- religion the strict measure of our allowance 
 in both cases. And there is nothing in religion to ex- 
 cite a man to this pious exactness in one case, but 
 what is as good a motive to the same exactness in the 
 other. 
 
 Further, as all things that are lawful are not there- 
 fore expedient, so there are some things law fill in the 
 use of liquors and apparel, which by abstaining from 
 them for pious ends may be made means of great per- 
 fection. 
 
 Thus, for instance, if a man should deny himself 
 such use of liquors as is lawful ; if he should refrain 
 from such expense in his drink as might be allowed 
 without sin ; if he should do this, not only for the sake 
 of a more pious self-denial, but that he might be able 
 to relieve and refresh the helpless, poor, and sick ; if 
 another should abstain from the use of that which is 
 lawful in dress ; if he should be more frugal and mean 
 in his habit than the necessities of religion absolutely 
 require ; if he should do this not only as a means of 
 better humility, but that he may be more able to 
 clothe other people ; these persons might be said to 
 do that which was highly suitable to the true spirit, 
 though not absolutely required by the letter of the 
 law of Clirist. 
 
 For if those who give a cup of cold water to a dis- 
 ciple of Christ shall not lose their reward, how dear 
 must they be to Christ who often give themselves wa- 
 ter, that they may be able to give wine to the sick and 
 lauguishing members of Christ's body ! 
 
 But to return : AH that has been here said to mar- 
 
$4 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ried women p.iay serve for the same instruction to 
 such as are still under the direction of their parents. 
 
 Now, though the obedience which is due to parents 
 does not obhge them to carry their virtues any higher 
 than tlieir parents require them, yet their obedience 
 requires them to submit to their direction in all things 
 not contrary to the laws of God, 
 
 If, therefore, your parents require you to live more 
 in the fashion and conversation of the world, or to be 
 more expensive in your dress and person,^ or to dispose 
 of your time, otherwise than suits with your desires 
 after greater perfection, you must submit, and bear it 
 as your cross, till you are at liberty to follow the hig'h- 
 er counsels of Cluist, and have it in your power to 
 choose the best ways of raising- your virtue to its great- 
 est height. 
 
 Now, although, whilst you are in this state, you 
 may be obliged to forego some means of improving 
 your virtue, yet there are some others to be found in 
 it, that are riot to be had in a life of more liberty. 
 
 For, if, in this state, where obedience is so great a, 
 virtue, you comply in all things lawful, out of a pi- 
 ous tender sense of duty, then tliose things which you 
 thus perform, are, instead of being- hindrances of your 
 virtue, turned into means of improving' it. 
 
 What you lose by being restrained from such things 
 as you would choose to observe, you gain by that ex- 
 cellent virtue of obedience, in humbly complying 
 against your temper. 
 
 Now what is here granted is only in things lawful, 
 and therefore the diversion of our English stage is 
 here excepted, being elsewhere proved, as I think, to 
 be absolutely unlawful. 
 
 Thus much to shew how persons under the direc- 
 tion of others may imitate the wise and pious life of 
 Miranda. 
 
 But as for those who are altogether in their own 
 hands, if the liberty of their states makes them covet 
 the best gifts, if it carries them to choose the most ex- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 95 
 
 cciient ways, if they, havin*^ all in their own power, 
 shoulJ turn the whole form of their life into a regular 
 exercise of the highest virtues, happy are they who 
 have so learned Christ ! 
 
 Ail i)ersons cannot receive this saying. They that 
 are ready to receive it, let them receive it, and bless 
 that Spirit of God which has put such good motions 
 into their hearts. 
 
 God may be served and glorified in every state of 
 life. But as there are some states of life more desi- 
 rable than others, that more purify our natures, that 
 more improve our virtues, and dedicate us unto God 
 in a higher manner ; so those who are at liberty to 
 choose for themselves seem to be called by God to be 
 morje eminently devoted to his service. 
 
 Ever since the beginning of Christianity, there\ 
 have been two orders, or ranks of people amongst \ 
 good Christians. \ 
 
 The one that feared and served God in the common | 
 offices of a secular worldly life. 
 
 The other, renouncing the common business and 
 common enjoyments of life, as riches, marriage, ho- 
 nours, and pleasures, devoted themselves to voluntary 
 poverty, virginity, devotion, and retirement, that by 
 this means they might live wholly unto God, in the 
 daily exercise of a divine and heavenly life. 
 
 This testimony I have from the famous ecclesiasti- 
 cal historian Eusebius, who lived at the time of the 
 first general council, when the faith of our Nicene 
 creed was established, when the church was in its 
 greatest glory and purity, when its bishops were so 
 many holy fathers and eminent saints. 
 
 '" Therefore," saith he, '' there have been instituted 
 in the church of Christ two ways or manners of living ; 
 the one, raised above the ordinary state of nature, and 
 common ways of living, rejects wedlock, possessions, 
 and worldly goods ; and, being wholly separate and 
 removed from the ordinary conversation of common 
 life, is appropriated and devoted solely to the worship 
 
96 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 and service of God^ through an exceeding' degree of 
 heavenly love. 
 
 " They who are of this order of people seem dead 
 to the life of this world, and, having their bodies only 
 upon earth, are, in their minds and contemplations, 
 dwelling in heaven, from whence, like many heavenly 
 inhabitants, they look down upon human life, making 
 intercessions and oblations to Almighty God for the 
 whole race of mankind ; and this not with the blood 
 of beasts, or the fat, or smoke, and burning of bodies^ 
 but with the highest exercises of true piety, with 
 cleansed and purified hearts, and with an whole form 
 of life strictly devoted to virtue. These are their sa- 
 crifices, which they continually oft'er unto God, im- 
 ploring his mercy and favour for themselves and their 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 " Christianity receives this as the perfect manner 
 of hfe. 
 
 " The other is of a lower form, and, suiting itself 
 more to the condition of human nature, admits of 
 chaste wedlock, and care of children and family, of 
 trade and business, and goes through all the employ- 
 ments of life under a sense of piety and fear of God. 
 
 " Now, they wiio have chosen this manner of life 
 have their set times for retirement and spiritual exer- 
 cises, and particular days are set apart for their hear- 
 ing and learning the word of God. And this order 
 of people is considered as in the second state of pie- 
 ty." — Emeh. Dem. Evan. I. I.e. 8. 
 
 Thus this learned historian. 
 
 If, therefore, persons of either sex, moved with the 
 life of Miranda, and desirous of perfection, should 
 unite themselves into little societies, professing volun- 
 tary poverty, virginity, retirement, and devotion, liv- 
 ing upon bare necessaries, that some might be relieved 
 by their charities, and all be blessed with their pray- 
 ers, and benefited by their example ; or if, for want of 
 this, they should practise the same manner of life in 
 as high a degree as they could by themselves; such 
 
DEYOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 9lf 
 
 persons would be so far from being chargeable with 
 any superstition or blind devotion^ that they might be 
 justly said to restore that piety which was the boast 
 and glory of the church when its greatest saints were 
 alive. 
 
 Now, as this learned historian observes, that it was 
 an exceeding great degree ot heavenly love tliat car- 
 ried these persons so much above the common ways of 
 life to such an eminent state of holiness, so it is not to 
 be wondered at that the religion of Jesus Christ should 
 fill the hearts of many Christians with this high de- 
 gree of love. 
 
 For a religion that opens such a scene of glory, 
 that discovers things so infinitely above all the worlds 
 that so triumphs over death, that assures us of such 
 mansions of bliss, where we shall so soon be as the 
 angels of God in heaven ; what wonder is it, if such 
 a religion, such truths and expectations, should, in 
 some holy souls, destroy all earthly desires, and make 
 the ardent love of heavenly things be the one conti- 
 nual passion of their hearts ! 
 
 If the religion of Christians is founded upon the in- 
 finite humiliation, the cruel mockings and scourgings, 
 the prodigious sufferings, the poor persecuted life and 
 painful death of a crucified Son of God, what wonder 
 is it, if many humble adorers of this profound mystery^ 
 many affectionate lovers of a crucified Lord, should re- 
 nounce their share of worldly pleasures, and give 
 themselves up to a continual course of mortification 
 and self-denial, that, by thus suffering with Christ 
 here, they may reign with him hereafter? 
 
 If truth itself hath assured us that there is but one 
 thing needful, Avhat wonder is it that there should be 
 some amongst Christians so full of faith as to believe 
 this in the highest sense of the words, and to desire 
 sucli a separation from the world, that their care and 
 attention to the one thing needful may not be inter- 
 rupted ? 
 
 If our blessed Lord hath said. If thou wilt be per- 
 
 H 
 
98 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 feet, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor^ 
 and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come 
 and follow me ; what wonder is it that there should 
 be amongst Christians some such zealous followers of 
 Christ, so intent upon heavenly treasure, so desirous 
 of perfection, that they should renounce the enjoyment 
 of their estates, choose a voluntary poverty, and re- 
 lieve all the poor that they are able ? 
 
 If the chosen vessel St. Paul hath said. He that is 
 unmarried careth for the things that belong to the 
 Lord, hoio he may please the Lord ; and there is this 
 difference also between a wife and a virgin ; the un- 
 married woman careth for the things of the Lord, 
 that she may be holy both in body and spirit ; what 
 wonder is it, if the purity and perfection of the virgin 
 state have been the praise and glory of the church in 
 its first and purest ages ? 
 
 That there have always been some so desirous of 
 pleasing God, so zealous after every degree of purity 
 and perfection, so glad of every means of improving 
 their virtue, that they have renounced the comforts 
 and enjoyments of wedlock to trim their lamps, to pu- 
 rify their souls, and wait upon God in a state of 
 perpetual virginity ? 
 
 And if now, in these our days, we want examples 
 of these several degrees of perfection ; if neither cler- 
 gy nor laity are enough of this spirit ; if Ave are so far 
 departed from it, that a man seems, like St. Paul at 
 Athens, a setter forth of strange doctrines, when he 
 recommends self-denial, renunciation of the world, re- 
 gular devotion, retirement, virginity, and voluntary 
 poverty, it is because we are fallen into an age where 
 the love not only of many, but of most, is waxed cold. 
 
 I have made this little appeal to antiquity, and quot- 
 ed these few passages of scripture, to support some 
 uncommon practices in the life of Miranda, and to 
 shew that her highest rules of holy living, her devo- 
 tion, self-denial, renunciation of the world, her chari- 
 ty, virginity, and voluntary poverty, are founded on 
 
t)EVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 
 
 99 
 
 the sublimest counsels of Christ and his apostles, suit- 
 able to the high expectations of another life, pro- 
 per instances of a heavenly love, and ail followed by 
 the greatest saints of the best and purest ages of the 
 church. 
 
 He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Sheioing how all Orders and Ranks of Men and 
 Women of all Ages are obliged to devote them- 
 selves to God. 
 
 I HAVE, in the foregoing chapters, gone through 
 the several great instances of Christian devotion, and 
 shewn that all the parts of our common life, our em- 
 ployments, our talents, and gifts of fortune, are all to 
 be made holy and acceptable unto God by a wise and 
 religious use of every thing, and by directing our ac- 
 tions and designs to such ends as are suitable to the 
 honour and glory of God. 
 
 I shall now shew that this regularity of devotion, 
 this holiness of common life, this religious use of every 
 thing that we have, is a devotion that is the duty of 
 all orders of Christian people. 
 
 Fulvius has had a learned education, and taken his 
 degrees in the university ; he came from thence that 
 he might be free from any rules of life. He takes no 
 employment upon him, nor enters into any business, 
 because he thinks that every employment or business 
 calls people to the careful performance and discharge 
 of its several duties. When he is grave, he will tell 
 you that he did not enter into holy orders, because he 
 looks upon it to be a state that requires great holmess 
 of life, and that it does not suit his temper to be so 
 good. He will tell you that he never intends to mar- 
 ry, because he cannot oblige himself to that regularity 
 of life, and good behaviour, which he takes to be the 
 
 h2 
 
loo A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 duty of those that are at the head of a family. He re- 
 fused to be godfather to his nephew, because he will 
 have no trust of any kind to answer for. 
 
 Fulvius thinks that he is conscientious in his con- 
 duct, and is therefore content with the most idle, im- 
 pertinent, and careless life. 
 
 He has no religion, no devotion, no pretences to 
 piety. He lives by no rules, and thinks all is very 
 well, because he is neither a priest, nor a father, nor 
 a guardian, nor has any employment or family to look 
 after. 
 
 But, Fulvius, you are a rational creature, and" as 
 such are as much oblised to live accordinH- to reason 
 and order as a priest is obliged to attend at the altar, 
 or a guardian to be faithful to his trust ; if you live 
 contrary to reason, you do not commit a small crime, 
 you do not break a small trust ; but you break the law 
 of your nature, you rebel against God who gave you 
 that nature, and rank yourself amongst those whom 
 the God of reason and order will punish as apostates 
 and deserters. 
 
 Though you have no employment, yet, as you are 
 baptized into the profession of Christ's religion, you 
 are as much obliged to live according to the holiness 
 of the Christian spirit, and perform all the promises 
 made at your baptism, as any man is obliged to be 
 honest and faithful in his calling. If you abuse this 
 great calling, you are not false in a small matter, but 
 you abuse tlie precious blood of Christ ; you crucify 
 the Son of God afresh ; you neglect the highest in- 
 stances of divine goodness ; you disgrace the church 
 of God ; you blemish the body of Christ ; you abuse 
 the means of grace, and the promises of glory ; and it 
 will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon in the day 
 of judgment than for you. 
 
 It is, therefore, gi^eat folly for any One to think 
 himself at liberty to live as he pleases, because he is 
 not in such a state of life as some others are ; for if 
 there is any thing dreadful in the abuse of any trust. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 101 
 
 if there is any thing to be feared for the neglect of any 
 calhng, there is nothing more to be feared than the 
 wrong use of our reason^ nor any thing more to be 
 dreaded than the neglect of our Christian calling, 
 which is not to serve tlie little uses of a sliort life^ but 
 to redeem souls unto God^ to fill heaven with saints^ 
 and finish a kingdom of eternal glory unto God. 
 
 No man^ therefore^ must think himself excused from 
 the exactness of piety and morality^ because he has 
 chosen to be idle and independent in the world ; for 
 the necessities of a reasonable and holy life are not 
 founded in the se\cral conditions and employments of 
 this lifC;, but in the immutable nature of God^ and the 
 nature of man. A man is not to be reasonable and 
 holy, because he is a priest, or the father of a family ; 
 but he is to be a pious priest, and a good father, be- 
 cause piety and goodness are the laws of human na- 
 ture. Could any man please God without living ac- 
 cording to reason and order, there would be nothing- 
 displeasing to God in an idle priest or a reprobate fa- 
 ther. He, therefore, tliat abuses his reason is like him 
 that abuses the priesthood ; and he that neglects the 
 holiness of the Christian life is as the man that disre- 
 gards the most important trust. 
 
 If a man was to choose to put out his eyes, rather 
 than enjoy the light, and see the works of God ; if he 
 should voluntarily kill himself, by refusing to eat and 
 drink, every one Avould own that such a one was a re- 
 bel against God, who justly deserved his highest indig- 
 nation. You would not say that this was only sinful in a 
 priest, or a master of a family, but in every man as sucIl 
 
 Now, wherein does the sinfulness of ihis behaviour 
 consist? Does it not consist in this, that he abuses his 
 nature, and refuses to act that part for which God had 
 created him? But, if this be true, then all persons 
 that abuse their reason, who act a diiVerent part from 
 that for which God created them, are, like this man, 
 rebels against God, and, on tlie same account, sub- 
 ject to his wrath. 
 
 II 3 
 
lOS 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Let us suppose that this man, instead of putting out 
 his eyes, had only employed them in looking at ridi- 
 culous things, or shut them up in a sleep ; that instead 
 of starving himself to death by not eating at all, he 
 should turn every meal into a feast, and eat and drink 
 like an epicure ; could he be said to have lived more 
 to the glory of God? Could he any more be said to 
 act the part for which God had created him, than if he 
 had put out his eyes, or starved himself to death? 
 
 Now, do but suppose a man acting unreasonably ; 
 do but suppose him extinguishing his reason, instead 
 of putting out his eyes, and living in a course of folly and 
 impertinence, instead of starving himself to death, and 
 then you have found out as great a rebel against God. 
 
 For he that puts out his eyes, or murders himself, 
 has only this guilt, that he abuses the powers that God 
 has given him ; that he refuses to .act that part for 
 which he was created, and puts himself into a state 
 that is contrary to the divine will. And surely this is 
 the guilt of every one that lives an unreasonable, un- 
 holy, and foolish life. 
 
 As, therefore, no particular state or private life is an 
 excuse for the abuse of our bodies or self-murder, so 
 no particular state or private life is an excuse for the 
 abuse of our reason, or the neglect of the holiness of 
 the Christian religion. For surely it is as much the 
 will of God that we should make the best use of our 
 rational faculties, that we should conform to the purity 
 and holiness of Christianity, as it is the will of God 
 that we should use our eyes, and eat and drink for the 
 preservation of our lives. 
 
 Till, therefore, a man can shew that he sincerely 
 endeavours to live according to the will of God, to be 
 that which God requires him to be ; till he can shew 
 that he is striving to live according to the holiness of 
 the Christian religion ; whosoever he be, or whereso- 
 ever he be, he has all that to answer for that they have 
 who refuse to live, who abuse the greatest trusts, and 
 neglect the hiahest calling in the workl 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 103 
 
 Every body acknowledges that all orders of men are 
 to be equally and exactly honest and faithful ; there is 
 no exception to be made, in these duties, for any pri- 
 vate or particular state of life. Now, if we would but 
 attend to the reason and nature of things ; if we would 
 but consider the nature of God and the nature of man, 
 we should find the same necessity for every other 
 right use of our reason, for every grace or religious 
 temper of the Christian life ; we should find it as ab- 
 surd to suppose that one man must be exact in piety, 
 and another need not, as to suppose that one man 
 must be exact in honesty, but another need not. 
 For Christian humility, sobriety, devotion, and piety, 
 are as great and necessary parts of a reasonable life as 
 justice and honesty. 
 
 And, on the other hand, pride, sensuality, and co- 
 vetousness, are as great disorders of the soul, are as 
 high an abuse of our reason, and as contrary to God, 
 as cheating and dishonesty. 
 
 Theft and dishonesty seem, indeed, to vulgar eyes, 
 to be greater sins, because they are so hurtful to civil 
 society, and are so severely punished by human laA\^s. 
 
 But if we consider mankind in a higher view, as 
 God's order or society of rational beings, that are to 
 glorify him by the right use of their reason, and by 
 acting conformably to the order of their nature, we 
 shall find that every temper that is equally contrary to 
 reason and order, that opposes God's ends and de- 
 signs, and disorders the beauty and glory of the ra- 
 tional world, is equally sinful in man, and equally 
 odious to God. This would shew us that the sin of 
 sensuality is like the sin of dishonesty, and renders us 
 as great objects of the divine displeasure. 
 
 Again, if we consider mankind in a further view, as 
 a redeemed order of fallen spirits, that are baptized 
 into a fellowship with the Son of God ; to be temples 
 of the Holy Ghost ; to live according to his holy in- 
 spirations ; to offer to God the reasonable sacrifice of 
 an humble, pious, and thankful life ; to purify them - 
 
 H 4 
 
104 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 selves from the disorders of their fall ; to make a right 
 use of the means of giace^ in order to be sons of eter- 
 nal glory ; if we look at mankind in this true light, 
 then we shall find that all tempers that are contrary 
 to this holy society, that are abuses of this infinite mer- 
 cy ; ail actions that make us unlike to Christ, that dis- 
 g-race his body, that abuse the means of grace, and 
 oppose our hopes of glory^ have every thing- in them 
 that can make us for ever odious unto God. So that, 
 though pride and sensuality, and other vices of the 
 like kind, do not hurt civil society as cheating and dis- 
 honesty do, yet tiiey hurt that society, and oppose 
 those ends which are greater and more glorious in the 
 eyes of God than all the societies that relate to this 
 world. 
 
 Nothing, therefore, can be more false than to ima- 
 gine, that because we are private persons that have 
 taken upon us no charge or employment of life, that 
 therefore we may live more at large, indulge our ap- 
 petites, and be less careful of the duties of piety and 
 hohness ; for it is as good an excuse for cheating and 
 dishonesty. Because he that abuses his reason, that 
 indulges himself in lust and sensuality, and neglects 
 to act the wise and reasonable part of a true Chris- 
 tian, has every thing in his life to render him hateful to 
 God, that is to be found in cheating and dishonesty. 
 
 If, therefore, you rather choose to be an idle epicure 
 than to be unfaithful ; if you rather choose to live in 
 Just and sensuality than to injure your neighbour in 
 his goods, you have made no better a provision for 
 the favour of God than he that rather chooses to rob 
 a house than to rob a church. 
 
 For the abusing of our own nature is as great a dis- 
 obedience against God as the injuring our neighbour; 
 and he that wants piety towards God has done as 
 much to damn himself as he that wants honesty to- 
 wards men. Every argument, therefore, that proves 
 it necessary for all men, in all stations of life, to be 
 truly honest, proves it equally necessary for all men. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. i05 
 
 in- all stations of life, to be truly holy and pious, and 
 do all things in such a manner as is suitable to the 
 glory of God. 
 
 Again, another argument to prove that all orders of 
 men are obliged to be thus holy and devout in the com- 
 mon course of their lives, in the use of every thing 
 that they enjoy, may be taken from our obligation to 
 prayer. 
 
 It is granted that prayer is a duty that belongs to 
 all states and conditions of men ; now, if we inquire 
 into the reason why no state of life is to be excused 
 from prayer, we shall find it as good a reason why 
 every state of life is to be made a state of piety and 
 holiness in all its parts. 
 
 For the reason why we are to pray unto God, and 
 praise him with hymns, and psalms of thanksgiving, is 
 this, because we are to live wholly unto God, and glo- 
 rify him all possible ways. It is not because the 
 praises of words, or forms of thanksgiving, are more 
 particularly parts of piety, or more the worship of God 
 than other things ; but it is because they are possible 
 ways of expressing our dependence, our obedience and 
 devotion to God. Now, if this be the reason of ver- 
 bal praises and thanksgivings to God, because we are 
 to live unto God all possible ways, then it plainly fol- 
 lows that we are equally obliged to worship and glo- 
 rify God in all other actions that can be turned into 
 acts of piety and obedience to him ; and as actions are 
 of much more sign i (lean cy than words, it must be a 
 much more acceptable worship of God to glorify him 
 in all the actions of our common life, than with any 
 little form of words at any particular times. 
 
 Thus, if God is to be worshipped with forms of 
 thanksgiving, he that makes it a rule to be content and 
 thankful in every part and accident of his life, because 
 it comes from God, praises God in a much higher 
 manner than he that has some set time for singing of 
 psalms. He that dares not say an ill-natured word, or 
 do an unreasonable thing, because he considers God as 
 
106 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 every where present^ performs a better devotion than 
 he that dares not miss the church. To hve in the 
 world as a strang-er and a pilg-rim, using- all its enjoy- 
 ments as if we used them not, making all our actions so 
 many steps towards a better life, is offering a better sacri- 
 fice to God than any forms of holy and heavenly prayers. 
 
 To be humble in all our actions, to avoid every ap- 
 pearance of pride and vanity, to be meek and lowly in 
 our words, actions, dress, behaviour, and designs, in 
 imitation of our blessed Saviour; is worshipping- God 
 in a higher manner than they who have only time to 
 fall low on their knees in devotion. He that contents 
 himself with necessaries, that he may give the re- 
 mainder to those that want it, that dares not to spend 
 any money foolishly, because he considers it as a ta- 
 lent from God, which must be used according to his 
 will, praises God with something that is more glorious 
 than songs of praise. 
 
 He that has appointed times for the use of wise and 
 pious prayers, performs a proper instance of devotion ; 
 but he that allows himself no times, nor any places, 
 nor any actions, but such as are strictly conformable 
 to wisdom and holiness, worships the divine nature 
 with the most true and substantial devotion. For who 
 does not know that it is better to be pure and holy 
 than to talk about purity and holiness? Nay, who 
 does not know tliat a man is to be reckoned no further 
 pure, or holy, or just, than as he is pure, and holy, 
 and just in the common course of his life? But if 
 this be plain, then it is also plain, that it is better to 
 be holy than to have holy prayers. 
 
 Prayers, therefore, are so far from being a suffi- 
 cient devotion, that they are the smallest parts of it, 
 Wc are to praise God with words and prayers, be- 
 cause it is a possible way of glorifying God, who has 
 given us such faculties as may be so used. But then, 
 as words are but small things in themselves, as times 
 of prayer are but little if compared with the rest of 
 our lives ; so that devotion, which consists in times 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 107 
 
 find forms of prayer^ is but a very small thing if com- 
 pared to that devotion which is to appear in every 
 other part and circumstance of our lives. 
 
 Again, as it is an easy thing to worship God with 
 forms of words, and to observe times of offering them 
 unto him, so it is the smallest kind of piety. 
 
 And, on the other hand, as it is more difficult to wor- 
 ship God with our substance, to honour him with the 
 right use of our time, to offer to him the continual sa- 
 crifice of self-denial and mortification ; as it requires 
 more piety to eat and drink only for such ends as may 
 glorify God, to undertake no labour, nor allow of any 
 diversion, but where we can act in the name of God ; 
 as it is most difficult to sacrifice all our corrupt tem- 
 pers, correct all our passions, and make piety to God 
 the rule and measure of all the actions of our common 
 life ; so the devotion of this kind is a much more ac- 
 ceptable service unto God than those words of devo- 
 tion which we offer to him either in the church or in 
 our closet. 
 
 Every sober reader will easily perceive that I do 
 not intend to lessen the true and great value of pray- 
 ers, either public or private, but only to shew him that 
 they are certainly but a very slender part of devotion, 
 when compared to a devout life. 
 
 To see this in a yet clearer light, let us suppose a 
 person to have appointed times for praising God with 
 psalms and hymns, and to be strict in the observation 
 of them ; let it be supposed also that in his common 
 life he is restless and uneasy, full of murmurings and 
 complaints at every thing, never pleased but by 
 chance, as his temper happens to carry him, but mur- 
 muring and repining at the very seasons, and having 
 something to dislike in every thing that happens to 
 him. Now, can you conceive any thing more absurd 
 and unreasonable than such a character as this ? Is 
 such a one to be reckoned thankful to God, because he 
 has forms of praise which he offers to him ? Nay, is 
 it not certain that such forms of praise must be so far 
 
108 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 from being an acceptable devotion to God^ that they 
 must be abhorred as an abomination ? Now the ab- 
 surdity which you see in this instance is the same in 
 liny other part of our life ; if our common life hath 
 jiny contrariety to our prayers, it is the same abomin- 
 ation as songs of thanksgiving in the mouths of mur- 
 murers. 
 
 Bended knees, whilst you are clothed with pride ; 
 heavenly petitions, whilst you are hoarding up trea- 
 sures upon earth ; holy devotions, whilst you live in 
 the follies of the world ; prayers of meekness and cha- 
 rity, whilst your heart is the scat of spite and resent- 
 ment ; hours of prayer, whilst you give up days and 
 years to idle diversions, impertinent visits, and foolish 
 pleasures; are as absurd, unacceptable services to 
 God, as forms of thanksgiving from a person that lives 
 in repinings and discontent. 
 
 So that, unless the common course of our lives be ac- 
 cording to the common spirit of our prayers, our 
 prayers are so far from being a real or sufficient de- 
 gree of devotion, that they become an empty lip-la- 
 bour, or, what is worse, a notorious hypocrisy. 
 
 Seeing, therefore, we are to make the spirit and 
 temper of our prayers the conmion spirit and temper 
 of our lives, this may serve to convince us that all or- 
 ders of people are to labour and aspire after the same 
 utmost perfection of the Christian life. For as all 
 Christians are to use the same holy and heavenly de- 
 votion, as they are all, with the same earnestness, to 
 pray for the Spirit of God, so it is a sufficient proof 
 that ail orders of people are, to the utmost of their 
 power, to make their life agreeable to that one spirit, 
 for which they are all to pray. 
 
 As certain, therefore, as the same holiness of pray- 
 ers requires the same holiness of life, so certain is it 
 that all Christians are called to the same holiness of 
 life. 
 
 A soldier or a tradesman is not called to minister at 
 the altar, or preach the gospel ; but every soldier or 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 109 
 
 tradesman is as much obliged to be devout, humble, 
 holy, and heavenly minded, in all the parts of his 
 common life, as a clergyman is obliged to be zealous, 
 faithful, and laborious in all parts of his profession. 
 
 And all this for one plain reason ; because all peo- 
 ple are to pray for the same holiness, wisdom, and di- 
 vine tempers, and to make themselves as fit as thej 
 can for the same heaven. 
 
 All men, therefore, as men, have one and the same 
 important business, to act up to the excellency of their 
 rational nature, and to mkke reason and order the 
 law of all their designs and actions. All Christians, 
 as Christians, have one and the same calling, to live 
 according to the excellency of the Christian spirit, 
 and to make the sublime precepts of the gospel the 
 rule and measure of all their tempers in common life. 
 The one thing needful to one is the one thing needful 
 to all. 
 
 The merchant is no longer to hoard up treasures 
 uport earth ; the soldier is no longer to fight for glory ; 
 the great scholar is no long'er to pride himself in the 
 depths of science ; but they must all with one spirit, 
 count all things but loss for the excellence/ of the 
 knoioledge of Christ Jesus. 
 
 The fine lady must teach her eyes to weep, and be 
 clothed with humility ; the polite gentleman must ex- 
 change the gay thoughts of wit and fancy for a broken 
 and a contrite heart ; the man of ciuality must so far 
 renounce the dignity of his birth as to think himself 
 miserable till he is born again ; servants must consider 
 their service as done to God ; masters must consider 
 their servants as their brethren in Christ, that are to 
 be treated as their fellow-members of the mystical body 
 of Christ. 
 
 Young ladies must either devote themselves to piety, 
 j)rayer, self-denial, and all good works, in a virgin 
 state of life, or else marry to be holy, sober, and pru- 
 dent in the care of a family, bringing up their chil- 
 dren in piety, humility^ and devotion, and abounding^ 
 
110 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 in all other good works to the utmost of their state 
 and capacity. They have no choice of any thing 
 else,, but must devote themselves to God in one of these 
 states. They may choose a married or single life ; 
 but it is not left to their choice whether they will 
 make either state a state holiness, humility, devotion, 
 and all other duties of the Christian life. It is no 
 more left in their power, because they have fortunes, 
 or are born of rich parents, to divide themselves be- 
 twixt God and the world, or take such pleasures as 
 their fortunes would afford them, than it is allowable 
 for them to be sometimes chaste and modest, and 
 sometimes not. 
 
 They are not to consider how much religion may 
 secure them a fair character, or how they may add 
 devotion to an impertinent, vain, and giddy life ; but 
 must look into the spirit and temper of their prayers, 
 into the nature and end of Christianity, and then they 
 will find that, whether married or unmarried, they 
 have but one business upon their hands, to be wise, 
 and pious, and holy, not in little modes and forms of 
 worship, but in the whole turn of their minds, in the 
 whole form of all their behaviour, and in the daily 
 course of their common life. 
 
 Young gentlemen must consider what our blessed 
 Saviour said to the young gentleman in the gospel ; 
 he bid him sell all that he had, and give it to the poor. 
 Now, though this text should not oblige all people to 
 sell all, yet it certainly obliges all kinds of people to 
 employ all their estates in such wise, reasonable, and 
 charitable ways, as may sufficiently shew that all that 
 they have is devoted to God, and that no part of it is 
 kept from the poor to be spent in needless, vain, and 
 foolish expenses. 
 
 If, therefore, young gentlemen propose to them- 
 selves a life of pleasure and indulgence, if they spend 
 their estates in high living, in luxury, and intemper- 
 ance, in state and equipage, in pleasures and diver- 
 sions, in sports and gaming, and such like wanton 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. Ill 
 
 •ratifications of their foolish passions^ they have as 
 much reason to look upon themselves to be angels as 
 disciples of Christ. 
 
 Let them be assured that it is the one only business 
 of a Christian gentleman to distinguish himself by 
 good workSj to be eminent in the most sublime virtues 
 of the gospel, to bear with the ignorance and weak- 
 ness of the vulgar, to be a friend and patron to all that 
 dwell about him, to live in the utmost heights of wis- 
 dom and holiness, and shew, through the whole course 
 of his life, a true religious greatness of mind. They 
 must aspire after such a gentility as they might have 
 learned from seeing the blessed Jesus, and shew no 
 other spirit of a gentleman but such as they might 
 have got by living with the holy apostles. They must 
 learn to love God with all their heart, with all their 
 soul, and with all their strength, and their neighbour as 
 themselves ; and then they have all the greatness and 
 distinction that they can have here, and are fit for an 
 eternal happiness in heaven hereafter. 
 
 Thus, in all orders and conditions, either of men or 
 women, this is the one common holiness which is to 
 be the common life of all Christians. 
 
 The merchant is not to leave devotion to the cler- 
 gyman, nor the clergyman to leave humility to the la- 
 bourer ; women of fortune are not to leave it to the 
 poor of their sex to be discreet, chaste keepers at 
 home, to adorn themselves in modest apparel, shame- 
 facedness, and sobriety ; nor poor women leave it to 
 the rich to attend on the worship and service of God. 
 Great men must be eminent for true poverty of spirit, 
 and people of a low and afflicted state must greatly re- 
 joice in God. 
 
 The man of strength and power is to forgive and 
 pray for his enemies, and the innocent sufferer that is 
 chained in prison must, with Paul and Silas, at mid- 
 night sing praise to God ; for God is to be glorified, 
 holiness is to be practised, and tlie spirit of religion is 
 
112 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 to be the common spirit of every Christian in every 
 state and condition of life. 
 
 For the Son of God did not come from above to add 
 an external form of worship to the several ways of life 
 that are in the world,, and so to leave people to live as 
 they did before, in such tempers and enjoyments as 
 the fashion and spirit of the world approves. But as 
 he came down from heaven altogether divine and 
 heavenly in his own nature, so it was to call mankind 
 to a divine and heavenly life, to the hig-hest change of 
 their whole nature and temper, to be born again of 
 the Holy Spirit, to walk in the wdsdom and light and 
 love of God, and be like him to the utmost of their 
 power ; to renounce all the most plausible ways of the 
 world, whether of greatness, business, or pleasure, to 
 a mortification of all their most agreeable passions, and 
 to live in such wisdom, and purity, and holiness, as 
 might fit them to be glorious in the enjoyment of God 
 to all eternity. 
 
 Whatever, therefore, is foolish, ridiculous, vain, or 
 earthly, or sensual in the life of a Christian, is some- 
 thing that ought not to be there ; it is a spot and a 
 defilement that must be washed away with tears of re- 
 pentance. But if any thing of this kind runs through 
 the course of our whole life, if we give ourselves to 
 things that are either vain, foolish, or sensual, we re- 
 nounce our profession. 
 
 For as siire as Jesus Christ was wisdom and holiness, 
 as sure as he came to make us like himself, and to be 
 baptized in his spirit, so sure it is that none can be 
 said to keep to their Christian profession but those 
 who, to the utmost of their power, live a wise, holy, 
 and heavenly life. This, and this alone, is Christian- 
 ity, an universal holiness in every part of life, a hea- 
 venly wisdom in all our actions, not conforming to the 
 spirit and temper of the world, but turning all worldly 
 enjoyments into means of piety and devotion to God. 
 
 But now, if this devout state of heart, if these habits 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 113 
 
 of inward holiness, be true religion, then true relii^ion 
 is equally the duty and happiness of all orders of men ; 
 for there is nothin"- to recommend it to one that is not 
 the game recommendation of it to all states ot people. 
 
 If it be the happiness and glory of a bishop to live in 
 this devout spirit, full of these holy tempers, doing 
 every thing as unto God, it is as much the glory and 
 happiness of all men and women, whether young or 
 old, to live in the same spirit ; and whoever can tind 
 any reasons why an ancient bishop should be intent 
 upon divine things, turnmg all his life into the higliest 
 exercises of piety, wisdom, and devotion, will find 
 them so many reasons why he should, to the utmost of 
 liis power, do the same himself. 
 
 If you say that a bisliop must be an eminent example 
 of Christian holiness, because of his high and sacred 
 calling, you say right ; but if you say that it is more 
 to his advantage to be exemplary than it is yours, 
 you greatly mistake ; for there is nothing to make the 
 highest degrees of holiness desirable to a bishop, but 
 what makes them equally desirable to every young 
 person of every family. 
 
 For an exalted piety, high devotion, and the reli- 
 gious use of every thing, are as much the glory and 
 happiness of one state of life as it is of anotlier. 
 
 Do but fancy in your mind what a spirit of piety 
 you would have in the best bishop in the world, how 
 you would have him love God, how you Vv^ould have 
 him imitate the life of our Saviour and his apostleg, 
 how you would have him live above th.e worhl, shining 
 in all the instances of a heavenly life, and then you 
 have found out that spirit which you ought to make 
 the spirit of your own life. 
 
 I desire every reader to dwell awhile upon this re- 
 flection, and perhaps he will find more conviction 
 from it then he imagines. Every one can tell how 
 good and pious he would have some people to be ; 
 everyone knows how wise and reasonable a thing it is 
 in a bishop to be entirely above the world, and be an 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 example of Christian perfection. As soon as yon 
 think of a wise and ancient bishop, you fancy some 
 exalted degree of piety, a living example of all those 
 holy tempers which you find described in the gospel. 
 
 Now, if you ask yourself what is the happiest thing- 
 for a young- clergyman to do ? you must be forced to 
 answer, that nothing can be so happy and glorious for 
 him as to be like that excellent holy bishop. 
 
 If you go on, and ask what is the happiest thing for 
 any young gentleman or his sister to do? the answer 
 must be the same — that nothing* can be so happy or 
 glorious for them as to live in such habits of piety, in 
 such exercises of a divine life, as this good old bishop 
 does. For every thing that is great and glorious in 
 religion is as much the true glory of every man or wo- 
 man as it is the glory of any bishop. If high degrees 
 of divine love, fervent charity, spotless purity, heaven- 
 ly affection, constant mortification, frequent devotion, 
 be the best and happiest way of life for any Christian, 
 it is so for all. 
 
 Consider, again, were you to see a bishop, in the 
 whole course of his life, living below his character, con- 
 forming to all the foolish tempers of the world, and go- 
 verned by the same cares and fears which govern vain 
 and worldly men, -w hat would you think of him t 
 Would you tliink that he was only guilty of a small 
 mistake? No, you would condemn him as erring in 
 that which is not only tiic most, but the only, impor- 
 tant matter that relates to him. Pause awhile in this 
 consideration, till your mind is fully convinced how 
 miserable a mistake it is in a bishop to live a careless, 
 worldly life. 
 
 Whilst you are thinking in this manner, turn your 
 thoughts towards some of your acquaintance, your bro- 
 ther or sister, or any young" person. Now, if you ob- 
 serve tlie common course of their lives to be not ac- 
 cording to the doctrines of the gospel, if you see that 
 their way of life cannot be said to be a sincere endea- 
 vour to Gwter in at tiie strait gate, you see something 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 115 
 
 that you are to condemn in the same degree, and for 
 the same reasons. They do not commit a small mis- 
 take, but are wrong- in that which is their all, and mis- 
 take their true happiness as much as that bishop who 
 neglects the high duties of his calling. Apply this 
 reasoning to yourself; if you find yourself living an. 
 idle, indulgent, vain life, choosing rather to gratify 
 your passions than to live up to the doctrines of Chris- 
 tianity, and practise the plain precepts of our blessed 
 Lord, you have all that blindness and unreasonableness 
 to charge upon yourself that you can charge upon any 
 irregular bishop. 
 
 For all the virtues of the Christian life, its perfect 
 purity, its heavenly tempers, are as much the sole rule 
 of your life as the sole rule of the life of a bishop. If 
 you neglect these holy tempers, if you do not eagerly 
 aspire after them, if you do not shewyourself a visible 
 example of them, you are as much fallen from your 
 true happiness, you are as great an enemy to yourself, 
 and have made as bad a choice as that bishop who 
 chooses rather to enrich his family than to be like an 
 apostle. For there is no reason why you should think 
 the highest holiness, the most heavenly tempers, to be 
 the duty and happiness of a bishop, but what is as good 
 a reason why you should think the same tempers to be 
 the duty and happiness of all Christians. And as the 
 wisest bishop in the world is he who lives in the great- 
 est heights of holiness, who is most exemplary in all 
 the exercises of a divine life, so the wisest youth, the 
 wisest woman, whether married or unmarried, is she 
 that lives in the highest degrees of Christian holiness, 
 and all the exercises of a divine and heavenly life. 
 
 % 
 
116 . A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Shewing how great Devotion fills our Lives with the 
 greatest Peace and Happiness that can be enjoyed 
 in this World. 
 
 SOME people will perhaps object^ that all these 
 rules of holy living unto God^ in all that we do, are 
 too great a restraint upon human life ; that it will be 
 made too anxious a state by thus introducing a regard 
 to God in all our actions ; and that, by depriving our- 
 selves of so many seemingly innocent pleasures, we 
 shall render our lives dull, uneasy, and melancholy. 
 
 To which it may be answered : 
 
 First, That these rules are prescribed, and will cer- 
 tainly procure a quite contrary end ; that, instead of 
 making our lives dull and melancholy, tliey__willren- 
 der thgia-iiitt-4i£.coiitent and strong satisfaction TT^iat 
 by these rules we only cf^?rTg?rthe childish satisfactions 
 of our vain and sickly passions for the solid enjoyments 
 and real happiness of a sound mind. 
 
 Secondly, That as there is no foundation for comfort 
 in t]ie-£iyxiyments of this life, but in the assurance 
 that a wise and goo^ God governeth the world, so the 
 more we find out God in every_tliixig, the more we ap- 
 ply to him in every place ; the more we look up to him 
 in all our actions, the more we conform to his will ; the 
 more we act according to his wisdom and imitate his 
 goodness, by so much the more do we enjoy God, pai^ 
 take of the divine nature, and heighten and increase 
 all that is happy and comfortable in human life. 
 
 Thirdh/, He that is endeavouring to subdue and 
 root out of his mind all those passions of pride, envy, 
 and ambition, which religion opposes, is doing more 
 to make himself happy, even in this life, than he that 
 is contriving means to indulge them. 
 
 For these passions are the causes of all the disquiets 
 and vexations of human life ; they are the dropsies 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 117 
 
 and fevers of our minds, vexing them with false appe- 
 tites, and restless cravings after such things as we do 
 not want, and spoiling our taste for those things which 
 are our proper good. 
 
 Do but imagine that you somewhere or other saw a 
 man that proposed reason as the rule of all his actions, 
 that had no desires but after such things as nature 
 wants, and religion approves, that was as pure from 
 all the motives of pride, envy, and covetousness, as 
 from thoughts of murder ; that, in this freedom from 
 worldly passions, he had a soul full of divine love, wish- 
 ing and praying that all men may have what they 
 want of worldly things, and be partakers of eternal 
 glory in the life to come. 
 
 Do but fancy a man living in this manner, and your 
 own conscience will immediately tell you that he is the 
 happiest man in the world, and that it is not in the 
 power of the richest fancy to invent any higher hap- 
 piness in the present state of life. 
 
 And, on the other hand, if you suppose him to be in 
 any degree less perfect ; if you suppose him but sub- 
 ject to one foolish fondness, or vain passion, your own 
 conscience will again tell you, that he so far lessens 
 his own happiness, and robs himself of the true enjoy- 
 ment of his other virtues. So true it is, that the more 
 we live by the rules of religion, the more peaceful and 
 happy do we render our lives. 
 
 Again, as it thus appears that real happiness is only 
 to be had from the greatest degrees of piety, the great- 
 est denials of our passions, and the strictest rules of 
 religion, so the same truth will appear from a consi- 
 deration of human misery. If we look into the world, 
 and view the disquiets and troubles of human life, we 
 shall find that they are all owing to our violent and ir- 
 religious passions. 
 
 Now, all trouble and uneasiness is founded in the 
 want of something or otlier ; would we therefore 
 know the true cause of our troubles and disquiets, we 
 must find out the cause of our wants ; because that 
 
 i3 
 
lis 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 which creates and increases our wants, does, in the 
 same degree^ create and increase our troubles and dis- 
 quiets. 
 
 God Ahiiig-hty has sent us into the world with very 
 
 few wants ; meat, and drink, and clothing, are the only 
 
 things necessary in life ; and as these are only our 
 
 , present needs, so the present world is well furnished 
 
 to supply these needs. 
 
 If a man had half the world in his power, he can 
 make no more of it than this ; as he wants it only to 
 support an animal life, so it is unable to do any thing- 
 else for him, or to afford him any other happiness. 
 
 This is the state of man, born with few wants, and 
 into a large world, very capable of supplying- them. 
 So that one would reasonably suppose, that men 
 should pass their lives in content and thankfulness to 
 God, at least that they should be free from violent dis- 
 quiets and vexations, as being placed in a world that 
 has more than enough to relieve all their wants. 
 
 But if to all this we add, that this short life, thus 
 furnished with all that we want in it, is only a short 
 passage to eternal glory, where we shall be clothed 
 with the brightness of angels, and enter into the joys 
 of God, we might still more reasonably expect that hu- 
 man life should be a state of peace, and joy, and de- 
 light in God. Thus it would certainly be^ if reason 
 had its full power over us. 
 
 But alas! though God, and nature, and reason, 
 make human life thus free from wants, and so full of 
 happiness, yet our passions, in rebellion against God, 
 against nature and reason, create a new world of 
 evils, and fill human life with imaginary wants and 
 vain disquiets. 
 
 The man of pride has a thousand wants, which only 
 his own pride has created ; and these render him as 
 full of trouble as if God had created him with a thou- 
 sand appetites, without creating- any thing- that was 
 proper to satisfy them. Envy and ambition have also 
 their endless wants, which disquiet the souls of men, 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 119 
 
 and by their contradictory motions render them as 
 foolishly miserable as those that want to fly and creep 
 at the same time. 
 
 Let but any complaining, disquieted man, tell you 
 the ground of his uneasiness, and you will plainly see 
 that he is the author of his own torment, that he is 
 vexing- himself at some imaginary evil, which will 
 cease to torment him as soon as he is content to be 
 that which God, and nature, and reason, require him 
 to be. 
 
 If you should see a man passing his days in disquiet, 
 because he could not walk upon the water, or catch 
 birds as they fly by him, you would readily confess 
 that such an one might thank himself for such uneasi- 
 ness. But now, if you look into all the most torment- 
 ing- disquiets of Hfe, you will tind them thus absurd ; 
 where people are only tormented by their own folly, 
 and vexing themselves at such things as no more con- 
 cern them, nor are any more their proper good, than 
 walking upon the water, or catching- birds. 
 
 What can you conceive more silly and extravag-ant, 
 than to suppose a man racking- his brains, and study- 
 ing- night and day how to fly? wandering- from his 
 own house and home, wearying- himself with climbing- 
 upon every ascent, cringing and courting- every body 
 he meets, to lift him up from the ground, bruising- 
 himself with continual falls, and at last breaking his 
 neck? And all this from an imagination that it would 
 be glorious to have the eyes of people gazing- up at 
 him, and mighty happy to eat, and drink, and sleep, at 
 the top of the highest trees in the kingdom. Would 
 you not readily own that such an one was only dis- 
 quieted by his own folly? 
 
 If you ask, what it signifies to suppose such silly 
 creatures as these as are no-where to be found in hu- 
 man life ? 
 
 It may be answered, that wherever you see an ambi- 
 tious man, there you see this vain and senseless flyer. 
 
 Again, if you should see a man that had a large pond 
 
 i4 
 
120 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 of water, yet living* in continual thirst, not suffering 
 himself to drink half a draught for fear of lessening 
 his pond ; if you should see him wasting his time and 
 strength in fetching more water to his pond, always 
 thirsty, yet always carrying a bucket of water in his 
 hand, watching early and late to catch the drops of 
 rain, gaping after every cloud, and running greedily 
 into every mire and mud in hopes of water, and always 
 studying how to make every ditch empty itself into his 
 pond; if you should see him grow grey and old in 
 these anxious labours, and at last end a careful, thirsty 
 life hy falling into his own pond ; would you not say 
 that such an one was not only the author of all his own 
 disquiets, but was foolish enough to be reckoned 
 amongst idiots and madmen ? But yet, foolish and 
 absurd as this character is, it does not represent half 
 the follies and absurd disquiets of the covetous man. 
 
 I could now easily proceed to shew the same effects 
 of all our other t>iri<sions, and make it plainly appear, 
 that all our miseries, vexations, and complaints, are 
 entirely of our own making, and that in the same ab- 
 surd manner as in these instances of the covetous and 
 ambitious man. Look where you will, you will see all 
 worldly vexations but like the vexation of him that was 
 always in mire and mud in search of water to drink, 
 when he had more at home than was sufficient for an 
 hundred horses. 
 
 Ca^lia is always telling you how provoked she is, 
 what intolerable shocking things happen to her, what 
 monstrous usage she suffers, and what vexations she 
 meets with every where. She tells you that her pa- 
 tience is quite wore out, and there is no bearing the 
 behaviour of people. Every assembly that she is at 
 sends her home provoked; something or other has 
 been said or done that no reasonable well-bred person 
 ought to bear. Poor people that want her charity are 
 sent away with hasty answ^ers, not because she has 
 not a heart to part with any money, but because she 
 is too full of some trouble of her own to attend to the 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 121 
 
 complaints of others. Caelia has no business upon her 
 hands, but to receive the income of a plentiful for- 
 tune ; but yet, by the doleful turn of her mind, you 
 would be apt to think that she had neither food nor 
 lodging". If you see her look more pale than ordinary, 
 if her lips tremble when she speaks to you, it is be- 
 cause she is just come from a visit, where Lupus took 
 no notice at all of her, but talked all th.e time to Lu- 
 cinda, who has not half her fortune. \V hen cross ac- 
 cidents have so disordered her spirits that she is forced 
 to send for the doctor to make her able to eat, she 
 tells him, in great anger at Providence, that she never 
 was well since she was born, and that she envies every 
 begg'ar that she sees in health. 
 
 This is the disquiet life of Caelia, who has nothing 
 to torment her but her own spirit. 
 
 If you would inspire her with a Christian humility, 
 you need do no more to make her happy as any per- 
 son in the world. This virtue would make her thank- 
 ful to God for half so much health as she has had, and 
 help her to enjoy more for the time to come. This 
 virtue would keep oft' tremblings of the spirits and loss 
 of appetite, and her blood would need nothing else to 
 sweeten it. 
 
 I have just touched upon these absurd characters for 
 no other end but to convince you, in the plainest man- 
 ner, that the strictest rules of religion are so far from 
 rendering a life dull, anxious, and uncomfortable, (as 
 is above objected,) that on the contrary, all the mise- 
 ries, vexations, and complaints, that are in the world, 
 are all owing to the want of religion ; being directly 
 caused by those absurd passions which religion teaches 
 us to deny. 
 
 For all the wants which disturb human life, which 
 make us uneasy to ourselves, quarrelsome with others, 
 and unthankful to God ; which weary us in vain la- 
 bours and foolish anxieties^ which carry us from pro- 
 ject to project, from place to place, in a poor pursuit 
 of we do not know what, are the wants which neither 
 
122 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Godj nor nature^ nor reason^ hath subjected us to^ but 
 are solely infused into us by pride^ envy_, ambition,, 
 and covetousness. 
 
 So far^ therefore;, as you reduce your desires to such 
 things as nature and reason require ; so far as you re- 
 gulate all the motions of your heart by the strict rules 
 of religion^, so far you remove yourself from that infi- 
 nity of wants and vexations which torment every 
 heart that is left to itself. 
 
 Most people^ indeed, confess that religion preserves 
 us from a great many evils, and helps us, in many re- 
 spects, to a more happy enjoyment of ourselves ; but 
 then they imagine tliat (his is only true of such a mo- 
 derate share of religion as only gently restrains us from 
 the excesses of our passions. They suppose that the 
 strict rules and restraints of an explted piety, are such 
 contradictions to our nature, as must needs make our 
 lives dull and uncomfortable. 
 
 Although the weakness of this objection sufficiently 
 appears from what hath been already said, yet I shall 
 add one word more to it. 
 
 This objection supposes that religion, moderately 
 practised, adds much to the happiness of life ; but 
 that such height of piety as the perfection of religion 
 requireth, has a contrary cfl'ect. 
 
 It supposes, therefore, that it is happy to be kept 
 from the excesses of envy, but unhappy to be kept 
 from other degrees of envy ; that it is happy to be de- 
 livered from a boundless ambition, but unhappy to be 
 without a more moderate ambition. It supposes also 
 that the happiness of life consists in a mixture of am- 
 bition and humility, charity and envy, heavenly affec- 
 tion and covetousness. All which is as absurd as to 
 suppose that it is happy to be free from excessive 
 pains, but unhappy to be without more moderate 
 pains ; or that the happiness of health consisted in be- 
 ing' partly sick and partly well. 
 
 For if humility be the peace and rest of the soul^ 
 then no one has so much happiness from humility as 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 123 
 
 he that is the most humble. If excessive envy is a 
 torment of the soul^ he most perfectly delivers himself 
 from torment that most perfectly extinguishes every 
 spark of envy. If there is any peace and joy in doing* 
 any action according to the will of God, he that brings 
 the most of his actions to this rule does most of all in- 
 crease the peace and joy of his life. 
 
 And thus it is in every virtue ; if you act up to 
 every degree of it_, the more happiness you have from 
 it. And so of every vice ; if you only abate its exces- 
 ses, you do but little for yourself; but if you reject it 
 in all degrees, then you feel the true ease and joy of a 
 reformed mind. 
 
 As for example : If religion only restrains the ex- 
 cesses of revenge, but lets the spirit still live withirt 
 you in lesser instances, your religion may have made 
 your life a little more outwardly decent, but not have 
 made you at all happier or easier in yourself. But if 
 you have once sacrificed all thoughts of revenge in 
 obedience to God, and are resolved to return good for 
 evil at all times, that you may render yourself more 
 like to God, and fitter for his mercy in the kingdom of 
 love and glory, this is a height of virtue that will make 
 you feel its happiness. 
 
 Secondlj/, As to those satisfactions and enjoyments 
 which an exalted piety requireth us to deny ourselves, 
 this deprives us of real comfort of life. 
 
 For, Ist, Piety requires us to renounce no ways of 
 life, where we can act reasonably, and offer what we 
 do to the glory of God. All ways of life, all satisfac- 
 tions and enjoyments that are within these bounds, 
 are no way denied us by the strictest rules of piety. 
 Whatever you can do or enjoy, as in the presence of 
 God, as his servant, as his rational creature, that has 
 received reason and knowledge from him, all that you 
 can perform conformably to a rational nature aivj the 
 will of God, all this is allowed by t'jc linvs of piety; 
 and will you thnik that your life will be uncomfort- 
 able, unless you may displease God, be a fool and 
 
124 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 mad^ and act contrary to that reason and wisdom 
 which he has implanted in you? 
 
 And a? for those satisfactions which we dare not of- 
 fer to a holy God^ which are only invented by the fol- 
 ly and corruption of the worlds which inttame our 
 passions^ and sink our souls into grossness and sensu- 
 ality^ and render us incapable of the divine favour 
 either here or hereafter^ surely it can be no uncom- 
 fortable state of life to be rescued by religion from 
 such self-murder, and to be rendered capable of eter- 
 nal happiness. 
 
 Let us then suppose a person destitute of that 
 knowledge which we have from our senses, placed 
 somewhere by himself, in the midst of a variety of 
 things which he did not know how to use ; that he 
 has by him bread, wine, water, golden dust, iron 
 chains, gravel, garments, fire, &c. let it be supposed, 
 that he has no knowledge of the right use of these 
 things, nor any direction from his senses how to quench 
 his thirst, or satisfy his hunger, or make any use of 
 the things about him. Let it be supposed, that in his 
 draught lie puts golden dust into his eyes; when his 
 eyes sma't, he puts wine into his ears; that in "his 
 hunger he puts gravel in his mouth ; that in pain he 
 loads himself with the iron chains ; that, feeling cold, 
 he puts his feet in the water ; that being frighted at 
 the fire he runs away from it ; that, being weary, he 
 makes a seat of his bread. Let it be supposed that, 
 through his ignorance of the right use of the things 
 that are about him, he will plainly torment himself 
 whilst he lives, and at last die, blinded with dust, chok- 
 ed with gravel, and loaded with irons. Let it be sup- 
 posed that some good being came to him, and shewed 
 him the nature and use of all the things that were 
 about him^ and gave him such strict rules for using 
 them, as would certainly, if observed, make him the 
 happier for all that he had, and deliver him from the 
 pains of hunger, and thirst, and cold. 
 
 Now, could you with any reason affirm, that those 
 
DEVOVt AND HOLY LIFE. 125 
 
 strict rules of using those things that were about him 
 had rendered that poor man's hfe dull and uncomfort- 
 able? 
 
 Now, this is in some measure a representation of 
 the strict rules of religion ; they only relieve our igno- 
 rance, save us from tormenting ourselves, and teach 
 us to use every thing about us to our proper advantage. 
 
 Man is placed in a world full of variety of things ; 
 his ignorance makes him use many of them as absurd- 
 ly as the man that put dust in his eyes to relieve his 
 thirst, or put on chains to remove pain. 
 
 Religion, therefore, here comes in to his relief, and 
 gives him strict rules of using every thing that is about 
 him, that, by so using them suitably to his own nature 
 and the nature of the things, he may have always the 
 pleasure of receiving a right benefit from them. It 
 shews him what is strictly right in meat, drink, and 
 clothes ; that he has nothing else to expect from the 
 things of this world, but to satisfy such wants of his 
 own ; and then to extend his assistance to all his 
 brethren, that, as far as he is able, he may help all his 
 fellow-creatures to the same benefit from the world 
 that he hath. 
 
 It tells him, that this world is incapable of giving 
 him any other happiness ; and that all endeavours to 
 be happy in heaps of money or acres of land, in fine 
 clothes, rich beds, stately equipage, and show and 
 splendour, are only vain endeavours, ignorant attempts 
 after impossibilities ; these things being no more able 
 to give the least degree of happiness than dust in the 
 eyes can cure thirst, or gravel in the mouth satisfy 
 hunger; but, like dust and gravel misapplied, will 
 only serve to render him more unhappy by such an 
 ignorant misuse of them. 
 
 It tells him, that although this world can do no 
 more for him than satisfy these wants of the body, yet 
 that there is a much greater good prepared for man 
 than eating, drinking, and dressing ; that it is yet in- 
 visible to his eyes^ being too glorious for the appre- 
 
126 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 hension of flesh and blood_, but reserved for him to en- 
 ter upon as soon as this short hfe is over^ where, in a 
 new body, formed to an angehc hkeness, he shall 
 dwell in the light and glory of God to all eternity. 
 
 It tells him, that tliis state of glory will be given to 
 all those who make a right use of the things of this 
 present world; who do not blind themselves with 
 g'oldcn dust, or eat gravel, or groan under loads of iron 
 of their own putting on ; but use bread, water, wine, 
 and garments, for such ends as are according to na- 
 ture and reason ; and who with faith and thankfulness 
 ■worship the kind Giver of all that they enjoy here, and 
 hope for hereafter. 
 
 Now, can any one say that the strictest rules of 
 such a religion as this debar us any of the comforts of 
 life? Might it not as justly be said of those rules 
 that only hindered a man from choaking himself with 
 gravel ? For the strictness of these rules only consists 
 in the exactness of their rectitude. 
 
 Who could complain of the severe strictness of a law 
 that, without any exception, forbade the putting' of 
 dust into your eyes? Who could think it too rigid 
 that there were no abatements? Now, this is the 
 strictness of religion ; it requires nothing of us strict- 
 ly or without abatements, but where every degree of 
 the thing is wrong, where every indulgence does us 
 some hurt. 
 
 If religion forbids all instances of revenge without 
 any exception, it is because all revenge is of the na- 
 ture of poison ; and though we do not take so much 
 as to put an end to life, yet, if we take any at all, it 
 corrupts the whole mass of blood, and makes it diffi- 
 cult to be restored to our former health. 
 
 If religion commands an universal charity, to love 
 our neighbour as ourselves, to forgive and pray for all 
 our enemies without any reserve, it is because all de- 
 grees of love are degrees of happiness, that strengthen 
 and support the divine life of the soul, and are as ne- 
 cessary to its health and happiness as proper food is 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 127 
 
 necessary to the health and happiness of tlie body. 
 
 If relii^'ion has hiws against laying up treasures up- 
 on eaith, and commands us to be content with food 
 and raiment, it is because every other use of the world 
 is, abusing- it to our own vexation, and turning all its 
 conveniences into snares and tra})s to destroy us ; it 
 is because this plainness and simplicity of life secures 
 us from the cares and pains of restless pride and en- 
 vy, and makes it easier to keep that strait road that 
 will carry us to eternal life. 
 
 If religion saith, Sell that thou hast, and gi're to 
 the poor, it is because there is no other natural or rea- 
 sonable use of our riches, no other way of making 
 ourselves happier for them ; it is because it is as 
 strictly right to give others that which w-e do not want 
 ourselves as it is right to use so much as our own wants 
 require. For if a man has more food than his own 
 nature requires, how base and unreasonable is it to 
 invent foolish ways of wasting it, and make sport for 
 his own full belly, rather than let his fellow-creatures 
 have the same comfort from food which he hath had ! 
 It is so far, therefore, from being a hard law of reli- 
 gion to make this use of our riches, that a reasonable 
 man would rejoice in that religion, which teaches him 
 to be happier in that which he gives away than in 
 that which he keeps for himself; which teaches him 
 to make spare food and raiment be greater blessings 
 to him than that which feeds and clothes his own body 
 
 If religion requires us sometimes to fast and deny 
 our natural appetites, it is to lessen that struggle and 
 war that is in our nature ; it is to render our bodies 
 fitter instruments of purity, and more obedient to the 
 good motions of divine grace ; it is to dry up the 
 springs of our passions that war against the soul^ to 
 cool the flame of our blood, and render the mind more 
 capable of divine meditations. So that although 
 these abstinences give some pain to the body, yet they 
 so lessen the power of bodily appetites and passions, 
 and so increase our taste of spiritual joys^ that even 
 
128 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 these severities of religion^ when practised with dis- 
 cretion^ add much to the comfortable enjoyment of 
 our Hves. 
 
 If reh'gion calleth us to a life of watching- and pray- 
 er^ it is because we hve amongst a crowd of enemies^ 
 and are always in need of the assistance of God. If 
 we are to confess and bewail our sins^ it is because 
 such confessions relieve the mind^ and restore it to 
 ease^ as burdens and weights taken otf the shoulders re- 
 lieve the body, and make it easier to itself. If we are 
 to be frequent and fervent in holy petitions, it is to 
 keep us steady in the sight of our true good, and that we 
 may never want the happiness of a lively faith, a joy- 
 ful hope, and well-grounded trust in God. If we are 
 to pi'ay often, it is tliat we may be often happy in such 
 secret joys as only prayer can give ; in such communi- 
 cations of the divine presence, as will fill our minds Avith 
 all the happiness thatbeings not in heaven are capable of. 
 
 Was there any thing in the world more worth our 
 care ; was there any exercise of the mind, or any con- 
 versation with men, that turned more to our advan- 
 tage than this intercourse with God, we should not be 
 called to such a continuance in pra^^er. But if a man 
 considers what it is that he leaves when he retires to 
 devotion, he will find it no small happiness to be so 
 often relieved from doing nothing, or nothing to the 
 purpose ; from dull idleness, unprofitable labour, or 
 vain conversation. If he considers that all that is in 
 the world, and all that is doing in it, is only for the 
 I)ody and bodily enjoyments, he will have reason to 
 rejoice at those hours of prayer, which carry him to 
 higher consolations, which raise him above these poor 
 concerns, which open to his mind a scene of greater 
 things, and accustom his soul to the hope and expec- 
 tation of them. 
 
 If religion com.mands us to live wholly unto God, 
 and to do all to his glory, it is because every other 
 way is living wholly against ourselves, and will end in 
 our own shame and confusion of face. 
 
DEVOUT Mity HOLY LIFE. 129 
 
 As every thing- is dark that God does not enlighten • 
 so every thing is senseless that has not it'-- ^ of 
 
 knowledge from him ; as noticing lives but by partak- 
 ing* of life from him ; as nothing- exists but because he 
 commands it to be ; so there is no glory or greatness 
 but what is the glory or greatness >', God. 
 
 We indeed may talk of human giory, as we may talk 
 of human life or human knowledge ; but as we are 
 sure that human life iaipHes nothing of our own, but a 
 dependent living- in God^ or eiijoying so much life in 
 God ; so human glory, whenever we find it, must be 
 only so much glory as we enjoy in the glory of God. 
 
 This is the state of all creatures, whether men or 
 angels ; as they make not themselves, so they enjoy 
 nothing- fi'om themselves ; if they are great, it must be 
 only as g;reat receivers of the gifts of God ; their pow- 
 er can only be so much of the divine power acting- in 
 them ; their wisdom can only be so much of the divine 
 wisdom shining within them ; and their light and glo- 
 ry only so much of the light and glory of God shining 
 upon them. 
 
 As they are not men or angels, because they had a 
 mind to be so themselves, but because the will of God 
 formed them to be what they are ; so they cannot en- 
 joy this or that happiness of men or angels, because 
 they have a mind to it, but because it is the will of God 
 that such things be the happiness of men, and such 
 things the happiness of angels. But now, if God be 
 thus all in all ; if his will is thus the measure of all 
 things and all natures ; if nothing can be done but by 
 his power ; if nothing can be seen but by a light 
 from him ; if we have nothing to fear but from his 
 justice ; if we have nothing to hope for but from his 
 goodness ; if this is the nature of man, thus helpless 
 in himself; if this is the state of all creatures, as well 
 those in heaven as those on earth ; if they are no- 
 thing, can do nothing, can sutfer no pain, nor feel any 
 happiness, but so far, and in such degrees, as the pow- 
 er of God does all this ; if this be the state of things, 
 
 K 
 
130 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 then how can we have the least glimpse of joy and 
 comfort ; how can we have any peaceful enjoyment 
 of ourselves, but by living wholly unto that God, using 
 and doing every thing conformably to his will? A life 
 thus devoted unto God, looking wholly unto him in all 
 our actions, and doing all things suitably to his glory, 
 is so far from being dull and uncomfortable, that it 
 creates new comforts in every thing that we do. 
 
 On tlie contrary, would you see how happy they are 
 who live according to their own wills, who cannot sub- 
 mit to the dull and melancholy business of a life de- 
 voted unto God, look at the man in the parable, to 
 whom his Lord had given one talent. 
 
 He could not bear the thoughts of using his talent 
 according to the will of him from whom he had it, and 
 therefore he chose to make himself happier in a way 
 of his own. Lord, says he, I knew thee, that thou art 
 an hard nmn, reaping inhere thou hadst not sown, 
 and gathering where thou hadst not strawed. And 
 Izvas afraid, and went and hid thi/ talent in the earth, 
 Lo there thou hast that is thine. Matt. xxv. 24. 
 
 His Lord having convicted him out of his own 
 mouth, dispatches him with this sentence ; Cast the 
 unprofitable servant into utter darkness ; there shall 
 he weeping and g7iashing of teeth. Matt. xxv. 30. 
 
 Here you see how happy this man made himself by 
 not acting wholly according to the Lord's will, it 
 was, according to his own account, a happiness of 
 murmuring and discontent. I knew thee, says he, 
 that thou wast an hard man : It was an happiness of 
 fears and apprehensions. I was, says he, afraid : It 
 was an happiness of vain labours and fruitless travails. 
 I went, says he, and hid thy talent : and after having 
 been awhile the s])ort of foolish passions, tormenting 
 fears, and fruitless labours, he is rewarded with dark- 
 ness, eternal weeping, and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 Islow this is the happiness of all those who look upon 
 a strict and exalted piety, that is a right use of talent, 
 to be a dull and melancholy state of life. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 131 
 
 They may live awliile free from the restraints and 
 directions of religion, but instead thereof, they must 
 be under tlie absurd I'overnrnent of their passions : 
 they must, hke the man in tlic parable, live in'mur- 
 murings and discontents, in fears and apprehensions 
 They may avoid the labour of doing' good, of spending- 
 their time devoutly, of laying- up treasures in heaven, 
 of clothing- the naked, of visiting the sick ; but then 
 they must, like this man, have labours and pains in 
 vain, that tend to no use or advantag-e, tliat do no good 
 either to themselves or others ; they must travail, and 
 labour, and work, and d\g, to hide their talent in the 
 earth. They must, like him at the Lord's coming, be 
 convicted out of their own mouths, be accused by 
 their own hearts, and have every thing- that they have 
 said and thought of religion be made to shew the jus- 
 tice of their condemnation to eternal darkness, weep- 
 in«-, and c-nashins- of teeth. 
 
 This is the purchase that they make, who avoid the 
 strictness and perfection of relig'ion_, in order to live 
 happily. 
 
 On the other hand, would you see a short descrip- 
 tion of the happiness of a life rightly employed, whol- 
 ly devoted to God, you must look at tlie man in the 
 parable, to whom his Lord had given five talents. 
 Lord, says he, thou delhcrest unto me five talents ; 
 behold, 1 have gained besides them five talents more. 
 His Lord said unto him, Well done thou good and 
 faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful over a few 
 things, I will make thee ruler over mani/ things ; en- 
 ter thou into the joys of thy Lord. 
 
 Here you see a life that is wholly intent upon the 
 improvement of the talents that is devoted wholly un- 
 to God, is a state of happiness, prosperous labours, 
 and glorious success. Here are not, as in the former 
 case, any uneasy passions, murmuring-s, vain fears, 
 and fruitless labours. The man is not toiling- and dig- 
 ging in the earth for no end or advantage ; but his pi- 
 ous labours prosper in his hands, his happiness in- 
 
 k2 
 
132 * A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 creases upon him^ the blessing of five becomes the 
 blessing- of ten taients ; and he is received, with a 
 loell done good and faithful servant.enter thou into the 
 joij of thy Lord. 
 
 Now, as the case of these men in the parable left 
 nothing- else to their choice but either to be happy in 
 using their gifts to the glory of the Lord, or miserable 
 by using them according to their own humours and 
 fancies, so the state of Christianity leaves us no other 
 choice. 
 
 All that we have, all that we are, all that we enjoy, 
 are only so many talents from God ; if we use them to 
 the ends of a pious and holy life, our five talents will 
 become ten, and our labours will carry us into the joy 
 of our Lord ; but if we abuse them to the gratification 
 of our own passions, sacrificing the gifts of God to 
 our own pride and vanity, we shall live here in vain 
 labours and foolish anxieties, shunning religion as a 
 melancholy thing, accusing our Lord as a hard mas- 
 ter, and then fall into everlasting misery. 
 
 We may for awhile amuse ourselves with names, 
 and sounds, and sliadows of happiness ; we may talk 
 of this or that greatness and dignity ; but if we desire 
 real happiness, we have no other possible way to it 
 but by improving our talents by so holily and piously 
 using the powers and faculties of men in this present 
 state, that we may be happy and glorious in the powers 
 and faculties of angels in the world to come. 
 
 How ignorant, therefore, are they of the nature of 
 religion, of the nature of man, and the nature of God, 
 who think a life of stiict piety and devotion to God, to 
 be a dull and uncomfortable state, when it is so plain 
 and certain that there is neither comfort nor joy»tO be 
 found in any thing else ! 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 133 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Happiness of a Life wholly devoted unto God, 
 further proved from the "canity, the sensuality, and 
 the ridiculous poor Enjoyments, lohich they are 
 forced to take up with, who live according to their 
 own Humours. This represented in various Cha- 
 racters, 
 
 WE may still see more of the happiness of a life de- 
 voted unto God, by considering the poor contrivances 
 for happiness, and the contemptible ways of life, 
 which they are thrown into, who are not under the di- 
 rections of a strict piety, but seeking- after happiness 
 by other methods. 
 
 If one looks at their lives who live by no rule but 
 their own humours and fancies ; if one sees but what 
 it is which they call joy, and greatness, and happiness ; 
 if one sees how they rejoice and repent, charge and 
 fly from one delusion to another ; one shall find great 
 reason to rejoice that God hath appointed a strait and 
 narrow way that leadeth unto life, and that we are not 
 left to the folly of our minds, or forced to take up with 
 such shadows of joy and happiness as the weakness and 
 folly of the world has invented. 1 say invented, be- 
 cause those things which make up the joy and happi- 
 ness of this world are mere inventions, which have no 
 foundation in nature and reason, are no way the pro- 
 per good or happiness of man, no way perfect either 
 in his body or his mind, or carry him to his true end. 
 
 As for instance, when a man proposes to be happy 
 in ways of ambition, by raising himself to sonie imagi- 
 nary heights above other people ; this is truly an in- 
 vention of happiness which has no foundation in na- 
 ture, but is as mere a cheat of our own making, as if a 
 man should intend to make himself happy by climbing 
 up a ladder. 
 
 If a woman seeks for happiness from fine colours or 
 
 k3 
 
134 A SfiRIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Spots upon her face^ from jewels and rich clothes, this 
 is as merely an invention of happiness, as contrary to 
 nature and reason^ as if she should propose to make 
 herself happy by painting- a post, and putting- the 
 same tinery upon it. It is in this respect that 1 call 
 these joys and happiness of the"world mere inventions 
 of happiness, because neither God, nor nature, nor 
 reason, hath appointed them as such ; but whatever 
 appears joyful, or great, or happy in them, is entirely 
 created or invented by the blindness and vanity of our 
 own minds. 
 
 And it is on these inventions of happiness that I de- 
 sire you to cast your eye, that you may thence learn 
 how great a good religion is, which delivers you from 
 such a multitude of follies and vain pursuits as are the 
 torment and vexation of minds that wander from their 
 true happiness in God. 
 
 Look at Flatus, and learn how miserable they are 
 who are left to the folly of their own passions. 
 
 Flatus is rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and 
 always searching after happiness. Every time you vi- 
 sit him you find some new project in his head, he is 
 eager upon it, as something- that is more worth his 
 while, and will do more for him than any thing that is 
 already past. Every new thing- so seizes him, that if 
 you were to take him from it, he would think himself 
 quite undone. His sanguine temper and strong pas- 
 sions promise him so much happiness in every thing', 
 that he is always cheated, and is satisfied with no- 
 thing. 
 
 At his first setting out in life, fine clothes were his 
 delight, his inquiry was only after the best tailors and 
 peruke-makers, and he had no thoughts of excelling in 
 any thing but dress. He spared no expense, but car- 
 ried every nicety to its greatest height. But this hap- 
 piness not answering his expectations, he left oif his 
 brocades, put on a plain coat, railed at fops and 
 beaux, and gave himself up to gaming with great ea- 
 g-erness, 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 135 
 
 This new pleasure satisfied him for some time ; he 
 envied no other way of life. But being by the fate of 
 play drawn into a duel, where he narrowly escaped 
 his death, he left oif the dice, and sought for happi- 
 ness no longer amongst the gamesters. 
 
 The next thing that seized his wandering imagina- 
 tion was the diversions of the town ; and for more 
 than a twelvemonth you heard him talk of nothing but 
 ladies, drawing-rooms, birth-nights, plays, balls, and as- 
 semblies. But growing sick of these, he had recourse 
 to hard drinking. Here he had a merry night, and 
 met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. 
 Here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and look- 
 ing out no further ; but unluckily falling into a fever, 
 he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave 
 of the happiness of being drunk. 
 
 The next attempt after happiness carried him into 
 the field ; for two or three years nothing was so happy 
 as hunting ; he entered upon it with all his sou!, and 
 leaped more hedges and ditches than had ever been 
 known in so short a time. You never saw him but in 
 a green coat ; he was the envy of all that blew the 
 horn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety 
 of language. If you met him at home in a bad day, you 
 would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained 
 with the surprising accidents of the last noble chace. 
 No sooner had Flatus outdone all the world in the 
 breed and education of his dogs, built new kennels, 
 new stables, and bought a new hunting seat, but he 
 immediately got sight of another happiness, hated the 
 senseless noise and hurry of hunting, gave away his 
 dogs, and was for some time after deep in the pleasures 
 of building. 
 
 Now* he invents new kind of dove-cots, and has 
 such contrivances in his barns and stables as were 
 never seen before ; he wonders at the dulness of the 
 old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement of 
 architecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordi- 
 nary way. He tells his friends that he never was so 
 
 R 4 
 
136 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 delighted in any thing* in his life ; that he has more 
 happiness amongst his brick and mortar than ever )ie 
 had at court ; and that he is contriving how to have 
 some little matter to do that way as long as he lives. '. 
 
 The next year he leaves liis house unfinished^ con^- 
 plains to every body of masons and carpenters^ and 
 devotes himself wholly to the happiness of riding 
 about. After this, you can never see him but on 
 horseback, and so highly delighted with this new way 
 of life, that he would tell you, give him but his horse 
 and a clean country to ride in, and you might take all the 
 rest to yourself. A variety of new saddles and bridles, 
 and a great change of horses, added much to the plea- 
 sure of this new way of life. But, however, having 
 after some time tired both himself and his horses, the 
 happiest thing he could tliink of next was to go 
 abroad and visit foreign countries ; and there, indeed, 
 happiness exceeded his imagination, and he was only 
 uneasy that he had begun so fine a life no sooner. 
 The next month he returned home, unable to bear any 
 longer the impertinence of foreigners. 
 
 After this, he was a great student for one whole 
 year ; he was up early and late at his Italian grammar, 
 that he might have the happiness of understanding the 
 opera, whenever he should hear one, and not be like 
 those unreasonable people that are pleased with they 
 do not know what. 
 
 Flatus is very ill-natured, or otherwise, just as his 
 affairs happen to be when you visit him ; if you find 
 him when some project is almost worn out, you will 
 find a peevish, ill-bred man ; but if you had seen him 
 just as he entered upon his riding regimen, or begun 
 to excel in sounding of the horn, you had been saluted 
 with great civility. 
 
 Flatus is now at a full stand, and is doing what he 
 never did in his life before ; he is reasoning and re- 
 flecting with himself. He loses several days in con- 
 sidering which of his cast-off ways of life he should try 
 again. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 137 
 
 But here a new project comes in to his relief. He 
 is now living- upon herbs, and running about the coun- 
 try, to get himself into as good wind as any running 
 footman in the kingdom. 
 
 I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish 
 particulars of this kind, because I hope that every par- 
 ticular folly that you see here will naturally turn it- 
 self into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of 
 a religious life. 
 
 If I could lay before you a particular account of all 
 the circumstances of terror and distress that daily at- 
 tend a life at sea, the more particular 1 was in the ac- 
 count, the more I should make you feel and rejoice in 
 the happiness of living upon the land. 
 
 In like manner, the more I enumerate the follies, 
 anxieties, delusions, and restless desires which go 
 through every part of a life devoted to human passions 
 and worldly enjoyments, the more you must be affect- 
 ed with that peace, and rest, and solid content, which 
 religion oives to the souls of men. 
 
 If you had but just cast your eye upon a madman 
 or a fool, it perhaps signifies little or nothing to you ; 
 but if you was to attend them for some days, and ob- 
 serve the lamentable madness and stupidity of all their 
 actions, this would be an affecting sight, and would 
 make you often bless yourself for the enjoyment of 
 your reason and senses. 
 
 Just so, if you are only told in the gross of the folly 
 and madness of a life devoted to the world, it makes 
 little or no impression upon you ; but if you are shewn 
 how such people live every day ; if you see the conti- 
 nual folly and madness of all their particular actions 
 and designs, this would be an affecting sight, and make 
 you bless God for having given you a greater happi- 
 ness to aspire after. 
 
 So that characters of this kind, the more folly an^l 
 ridicule they have in them, provided that they be but 
 natural, are most useful to correct our minds ; and, 
 therefore^ are no where more proper than in books of 
 
138 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 devotion and practical piety. And as in several cases 
 we best ]earn the nature of things by looking at that 
 which is contrary to them^ so perhaps we best com- 
 prehend the excellency of wisdom by contemplating 
 the wild extravagances of folly. 
 
 I shall, therefore, continue this method a little fur- 
 ther, and endeavour to recommend the happiness of 
 piety to you, by shewing you, in some othei* instan- 
 ces, how miserably and poorly they live who live with- 
 out it. 
 
 But you will perhaps say, that the ridiculous, rest- 
 less life of Flatus is not the common state of those 
 who resign themselves up to live by their own hu- 
 mours, and neglect the strict rules of religion ; and 
 that, therefore, it is not so great an argument of the 
 happiness of a religious life as I would make it. 
 
 1 answer, that i am afraid it is one of the most ge- 
 neral characters in life ; and that few people can read 
 it, without seeing sometiiing in it that belongs to 
 themselves. For where shall we find that wise and 
 happy man who has not been eagerly pursuing differ- 
 ent appearances of happiness, sometimes thinking it 
 was here, and sometimes there? 
 
 And if people were to divide their lives into parti- 
 cular stages, and ask themselves what they were pur- 
 suing, or what it vras wliich they had chiefly in view 
 when tliey were twenty years old, what at twenty-five, 
 what at thirty, what at forty, what at fifty, and so on, 
 till they were brought to their last bed ; numbers of 
 people would find that they had liked and disliked, and 
 pursued as many diiferent appearances of happiness 
 as are t(vbe seen in the life of Flatus. 
 
 And thus it must necessarily be more or less with 
 all those who propose any other happiness than that 
 which arises from a strict and regular piety. 
 
 But, secondly, let it be granted that the generality 
 of people are not of such restless, fickle tempers as 
 Flatus ; the difterence then is only this. Flatus is con- 
 tinually changing and trying something new, but 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 139 
 
 Others are content with some one state ; they do not 
 leave gaming, and then fall to hunting. But they 
 have so much steadiness in their tempers, that some 
 seek after no other happiness but that of heaping up 
 riches ; others grow old in the sports of the field ; 
 others are content to drink themselves to death_, with- 
 out the least inquiry after any other happiness. 
 
 Now, is there any thing more happy or reasonable 
 in such a life as this than in the life of Flatus? Is it 
 not as great and desirable, as wise and happy, to be 
 constantly changing from one thing to another, as to 
 be iiothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter, a 
 gamester, or a drunkard, all your life? 
 
 Siiall religion be looked upon as a burden, as a dull 
 and melancholy state, for calling men from such hap- 
 piness as this, to live according to the laws of God, to 
 labour after the perfection of their nature, and pre- 
 pai'e themselves for an endless state of joy and glory 
 in the presence of God ? 
 
 But turn your eyes now another way, and let the 
 trifling joys, the gewgaw happiness of Feliciana, teach 
 you how wise they are, what delusion they escape, 
 whose hearts and hopes are fixed upon a happiness in 
 God. 
 
 If you was to live with Feliciana but one half year, 
 you would see all the happiness that she is to have as 
 long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the 
 poor repetition of that which could never have pleas- 
 ed once, but through a littleness of mind, and want of 
 thought. 
 
 She is again to be dressed fine, and keep her visit- 
 ing da}' . She is again to change the colour of her 
 clothes, again- to have a new head, and again put 
 patches on hei face. She is again to sec who acts 
 best at the playhouse, and who sings finest at the 
 opera. She is again to make ten visits iti a day, and 
 be ten times in a diy trying to telk artfully, easily, and 
 politely, about UQthing. 
 
 She is to be again delighted with sonic new fashion. 
 
140 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 and again angry at the change of some old one. She 
 is to be again at cards, and gaming at midnight, and 
 again in bed at noon. She is to be again pleased with 
 hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed with 
 imaginary affronts. She is to be again pleased with 
 her good luck at gaming, and again tormented with 
 the loss of her money. She is again to prepare her- 
 self for a bi»'th-night, and again to see the town full of 
 good con any. She is again to hear the cabals and 
 intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence 
 of private amours, and early notice of marriages,, 
 quarrels, and partings. 
 
 If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly 
 than usual, converse with more spirits, and seem ful- 
 ler of joy than she was last week, it is because there 
 is some surprising new dress, or new diversion just 
 come to town. 
 
 These are ail the substantial and regular parts of 
 Feliciana's happiness ; and she never new a pleasant 
 day in her life, but it was owing to some one or more 
 of these things. 
 
 It is for this happiness that she has always been 
 deaf to the reasonings of religion, that her heart has 
 been too gay and cheerful to consider what is right or 
 wrong in regard to eternity, or to listen to the sound of 
 such dull words as wisdom, piety, and devotion. 
 
 It is for fear of losing some of this happiness that 
 she dares not meditate on the immortality of her soul, 
 consider her relation to God, or turn her thoughts to- 
 wards those joys which make saints and angels infi- 
 nitely happy in the presence and glory of God. 
 
 But now let it here be observed, that as poor a 
 round of happiness as this appears, yet most Avomen 
 that avoid the restraints of religion for a gay life must 
 be content with very small parts of it. As they have 
 not Feliciana's fortune and figure in the world, so 
 they must give away tlie comforts of a pious life for a 
 very small part of her happiness. 
 
 And if you look into the world, and observe the lives 
 
D£VOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 141 
 
 of those vvomen^ whom no arguments can persuade to 
 live wholly unto God^, in a wise and pious employment 
 of themselves^ you will find most of them to be sucli 
 as lose all the comforts of religion^ without gaiaing the 
 tenth part of Feliciana's happiness. They are such 
 as spend their time and fortunes merely in mimick- 
 ing the pleasures of richer people ; and rather look 
 and long after than enjoy those delusions, which are 
 only to be purchased by considerable fortunes. 
 
 But if a woman of high birth and good fortune, 
 having read the gospel, should rather wish to be an 
 under servant in some pious family, where wisdom, 
 piety, and great devotion, directed all the actions of 
 every day ; if she should rather wish this than to live 
 at the top of Feliciana's happiness, 1 should think her 
 neither mad nor melancholy, but that she judged as 
 rightly of the spirit of the gospel, as if she had rather 
 wished to be poor Lazarus at the gate, than to be the 
 rich man clothed in purple and fine linen, and faring 
 sumptuously every day. 
 
 But to proceed ; would you know what an happi- 
 ness it is to be governed by the wisdom of religion, 
 and be devoted to the joys and hopes of a pious life, 
 look at the poor condition of Succus, whose greatest 
 happiness is a good night's rest in bed, and a good 
 meal when he is up. When he talks of happiness, it 
 is always in such expressions as shew you that he has 
 only his bed and his dinner in his thoughts. 
 
 This regard to his meals and repose makes Succus 
 order all the rest of his time with relation to them. 
 He will undertake no business that may hurry his spi- 
 rits, or break in upon his hours of eating and rest. If 
 he reads, it shall only be for half an hour, beciuise that 
 is sufficient to amuse the spirits ; and he will read 
 something that will make him laugh, as rendering the 
 body fitter for its food and rest ; or if he has at any 
 time a mind to indulge a grave thought, he always 
 has recourse to a useful treatise upon the ancient 
 cookery. Succus is an enemy to all party matters. 
 
,14$ A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 having" made it an observation, that there is as good 
 eating- amongst the whig-s as the tories. 
 
 He talks coolly and moderately upon all subjects, 
 and is as fearful of falling into a passion as of catcli- 
 ing- cold, being* very positive that they are both equal- 
 ly injurious to the stomach. If you ever see him more 
 hot than Ordinary, as is upon some provoking occa- 
 sion, when the dispute about cookery runs very high, 
 or in the defence of some beloved dish, which has of- 
 ten made him happy. But he has been so long upon 
 these subjects, is so well acquainted with all that can 
 be said on both sides, and has so often answered all 
 objections, that he generally decides the matter with 
 great giavity, 
 
 Succus is very loyal, and as soon as ever he likes 
 any wine he drinks the king's health with all his heart. 
 Nothing can put rebellious thoughts into his head, un- 
 less he should live to see a proclamation against eat- 
 ing of pheasant's eggs. 
 
 All the hours that are not devoted either to repose 
 or nourishment are looked upon by Succus as waste 
 or spare time ; for tiiis reason he lodges near a coffee- 
 house Pud a tavern, that when he rises in the morning 
 he may hear the news, and when he parts at night he 
 may not have far to bed. In the morning you always 
 see him in the same place in the coffee-room, and if he 
 seems more attentively engaged than ordinary, it is 
 because some criminal has broken out of Newgate, or 
 some lady Vvas robbed last night, but they cannot tell 
 where. When he lias learned all that he can, he goes 
 home to settle the matter with the barber's boy that 
 comes to shave him. 
 
 The next waste time that lies upon his hands is 
 from dinner to supper ; and if melancholy thoughts 
 ever come into his head it is at this time, when he is 
 often left to himself for an hour or more, and that af- 
 ter the greatest pleasure he knows is just over. He is 
 afraid to sleep, because he has heard it is not healthful at 
 that time, so that he is forced to refuse so welcome a guest. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 143 
 
 But here he is soon relieved by a settled raethod of 
 playing" at cards till it is lime to tliink of some little 
 nice matter for supper. 
 
 After til is Succus takes his g-Jass^ talks of the ex- 
 cellency of the English constitution, and praises that 
 minister the most who keeps the best table. 
 
 On a Sunday night you may sometimes hear him 
 condemning the iniquity of the town rakes ; and the 
 bitterest thing that he says against them is this^ that 
 he verily believes some of them are so abandoned as 
 not to have a regular meal or a sound night's sleep in 
 a week. 
 
 At eleven, Succus bids all good night, and parts in 
 great friendship. He is presently in bed, and sleeps 
 till it is time to go to the coffee-house next morning. 
 
 If you was to live with Succus for a twelvemonth, 
 this is all that you w^ould see in his life, except a few 
 curses and oaths that he uses as occasion offers. 
 
 And now I cannot help making this reflection : 
 
 That as I believe the most likely means in the world 
 to inspire a person with true piety, was to have seen 
 the example of some eminent professor of religion, so 
 the next thing that is likely to till one with the same 
 zeal, is to see the folly, the baseness, and poor satis- 
 faction of a life destitute of religion ; as the one dis- 
 poses us to love and admire the v» isdom and greatness 
 of religion, so the other may make us fearful of living 
 without it. 
 
 For who can help blessing God for the means of 
 grace, and for the hope of glory, when he sees what 
 variety of folly they sink into who live without it? Who 
 would not heartily engage in all the labours and exer- 
 cises of a pious life, be stedfast, immovable, and al- 
 ways abounding in the work of the Lord, when he 
 sees what dull sensuality, what poor views, what gross 
 enjoyments, they are left to seek, who seek for happi- 
 ness in other ways? 
 
 So that, whether we consider the greatness of reli- 
 gion, or the littleness of all other things, and the mean- 
 
144* A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ness of all other enjoyments, there is nothing to be 
 found in the whole nature of things for a thoughtful 
 mind to rest upon, but a happiness in the hopes of 
 religion. 
 
 Consider now with yourself how unreasonable it is 
 pretended, that a life of strict piety must be a dull and 
 anxious state. For can it with any reason be said, 
 that the duties and restraints of religion must render 
 our lives heavy and melancholy, when they only de- 
 prive us of such happiness as has been here laid before 
 you"' 
 
 Must it be tedious and tiresome to live in the conti- 
 nual exercise of charity, devotion, and temperance, to 
 act wisely and virtuously, to do good to the utmost of 
 your power, to imitate the divine perfections, and pre- 
 pare yourself for the enjoyment of God? Must it be 
 dull and tiresome to be delivered from blindness and 
 vanity, from false hopes and vain fears, to improve in 
 holiness, to feel the comforts of conscience in all your 
 actions, to know that God is your friend, that all must 
 work for your good, that neither life nor death, neither 
 men nor devils, can do you any harm ; but that all 
 your sufferings and doings that are offered unto God, 
 all your watch ings and prayers, and labours of love 
 and charity, all your improvements, are in a short time 
 to be rewarded vv'ith everlasting glory in the presence 
 of God ; must such a state as this be dull and tiresome 
 for want of such happiness as Flatus or Feliciana 
 enjoy? 
 
 Now, if this cannot be said, then there is no happi- 
 ness or pleasure lost by being strictly pious, nor has 
 the devout man any thing to envy in any other state 
 of life. For all the art and contrivance in the world, 
 without religion, cannot make mere of human life, or 
 carry its happiness to any greater height, than Flatus 
 or Feliciana have done. 
 
 The finest wit, the greatest genius upon earth, if 
 not governed by religion, must be as foolish, and low, 
 and vain in his methods of happiness, as the poor Succus, 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 14& 
 
 If you was to see a man dully endeavouring all his 
 life to satisfy his thirst, by holding up one and the 
 same empty cup to his mouth, you would certainly de- 
 spise his ignorance. 
 
 But if you should see others of brighter parts and 
 finer understandings ridiculing the dull satisfaction of 
 one cup, and thinking to satisfy their own thirst by a 
 variety of gilt and golden empty cups, would you think 
 that these were ever the wiser, or happier, or better 
 employed, for their finer parts ? 
 
 Now, this is all the difference that you can see in 
 the happiness of this life. 
 
 The dull and heavy soul may be content with one 
 empty appearance of happiness, and be continually 
 trying to hold one and the same empty cup to his 
 mouth all his life. But then, let the wit, the great 
 scholar, the fine genius, the great statesman, the polite 
 gentleman, lay all their heads together, and they can 
 only shew you more and various empty appearances of 
 happiness ; give them all the world into their hands, 
 let them cut and carve as they please, they can only 
 make a greater variety of empty cups. 
 
 So that, if you do not think it hard to be deprived of 
 the pleasures of gluttony for the sake of religion, you 
 have no reason to think it hard to be restrained from 
 any other worldly pleasure ; for search as deep, and 
 look as far as you will, there is nothing here to be 
 found that is nobler or greater than high eating and 
 drinking, unless you look for it in the wisdom and 
 laws of religion. 
 
 And if all that is in the world are only so many 
 empty cups, what does it signify which you take, or 
 how many you take, or how many you have ? 
 
 If you would but use yourself to such meditations as 
 these, to reflect upon the vanity of all orders of life 
 without piety, to consider how all the ways of the 
 world are so many different ways of error, blindness, 
 and mistake, you would soon find your heart made 
 wiser and better by it. These meditations would 
 
 L 
 
146 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 awaken your souls into a zealous desire of that solid 
 happiness, which is only to be found in recourse to 
 God. 
 
 Examples of great piety are not now common in 
 the Avorld, it may not be your happiness to live within 
 sight of any, or to have your virtue inflamed by their 
 light and fervour ; but the misery and folly of worldly 
 men is what meets your eyes in every place, and you 
 need not look far to see how poorly, how vainly, men 
 dream away their lives for want of religious wisdom. ' 
 
 This is the reason that I have laid before you so 
 many characters of the vanity of a worldly life, to 
 teach you to make a benefit of the corruption of the 
 age, and that you may be made wise, though not by 
 the sight of what piety is, yet by seeing what misery 
 and folly reigns, where piety is not. 
 
 If you would turn your mind to such reflections as 
 these, your own observation would carry this instruc- 
 tion much further, and all your conversation and ac- 
 quaintance with the world would be a daily conviction 
 to you of the necessity of seeking some greater happi- 
 ness, than all the poor enjoyments this world can give. 
 
 To meditate upon the perfection of the divine attri- 
 butes, to contemplate the glories of heaven, to con- 
 sider the joys of saints and angels living for ever in 
 the brightness and glory of the divine presence; these 
 are the meditations of souls advanced in piety, and not 
 so suited to every capacity. 
 
 But to see and consider the emptiness and error of 
 all worldly happiness, to see the grossness of sensu- 
 ality, the poorness of pride, the stupidity of covetous- 
 ness, the vanity of dress, the delusion of honour, the 
 blindness of our passions, the uncertainty of our lives, 
 and the shortness of all worldly projects ; these are 
 meditations that arc suited to all capacities, fitted to 
 strike all minds ; they require no depth of thought to 
 sublime speculation, but are forced upon us by all our 
 senses, and taught us by almost every thing that we 
 see and hear. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 147 
 
 This is that wisdom that crieth, and 
 putteth forth her voice in the streets, Prov. viii. 1 . 
 that standeth at all our doors, that ap- 
 pealeth to all our senses, teaching- us in every thing 
 and every where, by all that we see, and all Uiat we 
 hear, by births and burials, by sickness and healthy by 
 life and death, by pains and poverty, by misery and 
 vanity, and by all the changes and chances of life ; that 
 there is nothing else for man to look after, no other 
 end in nature for him to drive at, but a happiness 
 which is only to be found in the hopes and expecta- 
 tions of religion. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IThat 7iot only a Life of vanity or sensuality, but even 
 the most regular kind of Life that is not governed 
 by great Devotion, sufficiently shews its miseries, 
 its wants, and emptiness, to the eyes of all the 
 world ; this represented in various Characters. 
 
 IT is a very remarkable saying of our Lord and 
 Saviour to his disciples in these words. Blessed are 
 your eyes for they see, and your ears for they hear. 
 They teach us two things : First, That the dulness 
 and heaviness of men's minds, with regard to spiritu- 
 al matters, is so great, that it may justly be compared 
 to the want of eyes and ears. 
 
 Secondly, That God has so filled every thing and 
 every place with motives and arguments for a godly 
 life, that they who are but so blessed, so happy as to 
 use their eyes and their ears, must needs be affected 
 with them. 
 
 Now, though this was in a more especial manner 
 the case of those whose senses were witnesses of the 
 life, and miracles, and doctrines of our blessed Lord ; 
 yet it is truly the case of all Christians at this time. 
 For the reasons of religion, the calls of piety, are so 
 
 l2 
 
148 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 written and engraved upon every thing', and present 
 themselves so strongly and so constantly to all our 
 senses in every thing that we meet, that they can only 
 be disregared by eyes that see not, and cars that hear 
 not. 
 
 What greater motive to a religious life than the va- 
 nity, the poorness of all worldly enjoyments ; and yet 
 who can help seeing and feeling this every day of his 
 life? 
 
 What greater call to look towards God than the 
 pains, the sickness, the crosses, and vexations of this 
 life, and yet Avhose eyes and ears are not daily wit^ 
 nesses of them ? 
 
 What miracles could more strongly appeal to our 
 senses, or what message from heaven speak louder to 
 us, than the daily dying and departure of our fellow- 
 creatures ? 
 
 So that the one thing needful, or the great end of 
 life, is not left to be discovered by tine reasoning and 
 deep reflections, but is pressed upon us in the plainest 
 manner by the experience of all our senses,, by every 
 thing that we meet in life. 
 
 Let us but intend to see and hear, and then the 
 whole world becomes a book of wisdom and instruc- 
 tion to us ; all that is regular in the order of nature, 
 all that is accidental in the course of things, all the 
 mistakes and disappointments that happen to our- 
 selves, all the miseries and errors that we see in other 
 people, become so many plain lessons of advice to us, 
 teaching us, with as much assurance as an angel from 
 heaven, that we can no vvays raise ourselves to any 
 true happiness, but by turning all our thoughts, our 
 wishes, and endeavours, after the happiness of another 
 life. 
 
 It is this right use of the world that I would lead 
 you into, by directing you to turn your eyes upon every 
 shape of human folly, that you may thence draw fresh 
 arguments and motives of living to the best and great- 
 est purposes of your creation. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 149 
 
 And if you would but carry this intention about you, 
 of profiting by the follies of the worlds and of learn- 
 ing the greatness of religion from the littleness and 
 vanity of every other way of life ; if, 1 say, you would 
 but carry this intention in your mind, you would find 
 every day, every place^ and every person, a fresh 
 proof of their wisdom who choose to live wholly unto 
 God; jou would then often return home the wiser, 
 the better, and the more strengthened in religion, by 
 every thing that has fallen in your way. 
 
 Octavius is a learned, ingenious man, well versed in 
 most parts of literature, and no stranger to any king- 
 dom in Europe. The other day, being just recovered 
 from a lingering fever, he took upon him to talk thus 
 to his friends : 
 
 " My glass," says he, " is almost run out ; and 
 your eyes see how many marks of age and death I 
 bear about me ; but I plainly feel myself sinking away 
 faster than any standers-by imagine. 1 fully believe 
 that one year more will conclude my reckoning." 
 
 The attention of his friends was much raised by 
 such a declaration, expecting to hear something truly 
 excellent from so learned a man, who had but a year 
 longer to live ; when Octavius proceeded in this man- 
 ner : 
 
 " For these reasons," says he, '' my friends, I have 
 left off all taverns ; the Avine of those places is not 
 good enough for me in this decay of nature. 1 must 
 now be nice in what I drink ; 1 cannot pretend to do 
 as I have done ; and, therefore, am resolved to furnish 
 my own cellar with a little of the very best, though it 
 cost me ever so much. 
 
 '" I must also tell you, my friends, that age forces a 
 man to be wise in many other respects, and makes us 
 change many of our opinions and practices. 
 
 '" You know how much I have liked a large ac- 
 quaintance ; I now condemn it as an error. Three 
 or four cheerful, diverting companions, are all that 1 
 now desire ; because I find that, in my present infir- 
 
 l3 
 
150 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 mities, if I am left alone, or to grave company, I am 
 not so easy to myself." 
 
 A few days after Octavius had made this declaration 
 to his friends, he relapsed into his former illness, was 
 committed to a nurse, who closed his eyes before his 
 fresh parcel of wine came in. 
 
 Young Eugenius, who was present at this dis- 
 course, went home a new man, with full resolutions of 
 devoting hmiself wholly unto God. 
 
 " 1 never," says Eugenius, '' was so deeply affected 
 with the wisdom and importance of religion as when I 
 saw how poorly and meanly the learned Octavius was 
 to leave the world through the want of it. 
 
 " How often had I envied his great learning, his 
 skill in language, his knowledge of antiquity, his ad- 
 dress, and fine manner of expressing himself upon all 
 subjects ! But, when I saw how poorly it all ended, 
 what was to be the last year of such a life, and how 
 foolishly the master of all these accomplishments was 
 then forced to talk, for want of being acquainted with 
 the joys and expectations of piety : i was thoroughly 
 convinced that there v/as nothing to be envied or de- 
 sired but a life of true piety ; nor any thing so poor 
 and comfortless as a death without it." 
 
 Now, as the young Eugenius was thus edified and 
 instructed in the present case, so, if you are so happy 
 as to have any thing of his thoughtful temper, you 
 will meet with variety of instruction of this kind ; you 
 will find that arguments for the wisdom and happiness 
 of a strict piety offer themselves in all places, and ap- 
 peal to all your senses in the plainest manner. 
 
 You will find that all the world preaches to an atten- 
 tive mind, and that, if you have but ears to hear, al- 
 most every thing you meet teaches you some lesson of 
 wisdom. 
 
 But now, if to these admonitions and instructions, 
 which we receive from our senses, from an experience 
 of the state of human life ; if to these we add the lights 
 of religion, those great truths which the Son of God 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 151 
 
 had taught us, it will be then as much past all doubt 
 that there is but one happiness for man, as that there 
 is but one God. 
 
 For, since religion teaches us that our souls are im- 
 mortal, that piety and devotion will carry them to an 
 eternal enjoyment of God, and that carnal worldly 
 tempers will sink them into an everlasting* misery with 
 damned spirits, what gross nonsense and stupidity is it 
 to give the name of joy or happiness to any thing but 
 that which carries us to this joy and happiness in God? 
 
 Was all to die with our bodies, there might be some 
 pretence for those different sorts of happiness that arc 
 so much talked of; but, since our all begins at the 
 death of our bodies ; since all men are to be immortal, 
 either in misery or happiness, in a world entirely dif- 
 ferent from this ; since they are all hastening hence, 
 at all uncertainties, as fast as death can cut them 
 down ; some in sickness, some in health, some sleep- 
 ing, some waking, some at midnight, others at cock- 
 crowing, and all at hours that they know not of ; is it 
 not certain that no man can exceed another in joy and 
 happiness, but so far as he exceeds him in those virtues 
 which fit him for a happier death ? 
 
 Cognatus is a sober regular clergyman, of good re- 
 pute in the world, and well esteemed in his parish. 
 All his parishioners say he is an honest man, and very 
 notable at making a bargain. The farmers listen to 
 him with great attention, when he talks of the proper- 
 est time of selling corn. 
 
 He has been for twenty years a diligent observer of 
 markets, and has raised a considerable fortune by 
 good management. 
 
 Cognatus is very orthodox, and full of esteem for 
 our English liturgy ; and if he has not prayers on 
 Wednesdays and Fridays, it is because his predeces- 
 sors had not used the parish to any such custom. 
 
 As he cannot serve both his livings himself, .so he 
 makes it matter of conscience to keep a sober curate 
 upon one of them, wliom he hires to take care of all 
 
 L 4 
 
152 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 the souls in the parish, at as cheap a rate as a sober 
 mail can be procured. 
 
 Cognatus has been very prosperous all his time ; but 
 still he has had the uneasiness and vexations that they 
 have who are deep in worldly business. Taxes, losses, 
 crosses, bad mortgag-es, bad tenants, and the hardness 
 of the times, are frequent subjects of his conversation ; 
 and a good or a bad sea,son has a great effect upon his 
 spirits. 
 
 Cognatus has no other end in growing rich, but 
 that he may leave a considerable fortune to a niece, 
 whom he has politely educated in expensive finery by 
 what he has saved out of the tithes of two livings. 
 
 The neighbours look upon Cognatus as a happy 
 clergyman, because they see him (as they call it) in 
 good circumstances ; and some of them intend todedi- 
 iCate their own sons to the church, because they see 
 how well it has succeeded with Cognatus, whose fa- 
 ther was but an ordinary man. 
 
 But now, if Cognatus, when he first entered into 
 holy orders, had perceived how absurd a thing it is to 
 grow rich by the gospel ; if he had proposed to him- 
 self the example of some primitive father ; if he had 
 had the piety of the great St. Austin in his eye, who 
 durst not enrich any of his relations out of the reve- 
 nue of the church ; if, instead of twenty years' care to 
 lay up treasures upon earth, he Iiad distributed the in- 
 come of every year in the most Christian acts of cha- 
 rity and compassion : 
 
 If, instead of tempting his niece to be proud, and 
 providing her with such ornaments as the apostle for- 
 bids, he had clothed, comforted, and assisted numbers 
 of widows, orphans, and distressed, who were all to 
 appear for him at the last day : 
 
 If, instead of the cares and anxieties of bad bonds, 
 troublesome mortgages, and ill bargains, he had had 
 the constant comfort of knowing that his treasure was 
 securely laid up where neither moth corrupteth, nor 
 thieves break through and steal, could it with any rea- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 153 
 
 son be said that he had mistaken the spirit and dignity 
 of his order, or lessoned any of that happiness which 
 is to be found in his sacred employments? 
 
 If, instead of rejoicini^- in the happiness of a second 
 living", he had thought it as unbecoming the office of a 
 clergyman to traffic for gain in holy things, as to open 
 a shop : 
 
 If lie had thought it better ta recommend some 
 honest labour to his niece, than to support her in idle- 
 ness by the labours of a curate ; better that she should 
 want fine clothes and a rich husband, than the cure of 
 souls should be farmed about, and brother clergymen 
 not suffered to live by those altars at which they serve. 
 If this had been the spirit of Cognatus, could it with 
 any reason be said, that these rules of religion, this 
 strictness of piety, had robbed Cognatus of any real 
 happiness? Could it be said that a life thus governed 
 by the spirit of the gospel must be dull and melan- 
 choly, if compared to that of raising a fortune for a 
 niece ? 
 
 Now, as this cannot be said in the present case, so 
 in every other kind of life ; if you enter into the par- 
 ticulars of it, you will find that, however easy and 
 prosperous it may seem, yet you cannot add piety to 
 any part of it, without adding so much of a better joy 
 and happiness to it. 
 
 Look now at the condition of life whicli draws the 
 envy of all eyes. 
 
 Negotius is a temperate, honest man. He seived 
 his time under a master of great trade, but has by his 
 own management made it a more considerable busi- 
 ness than ever it was before. For thirty years past 
 he has written fifty or sixty letters in a week, and is 
 busy in corresponding with all parts of Europe. The 
 general good of trade seems to Negotius to be the ge- 
 neral good of life; whomsoever he admires, whatever 
 he commends or condemns either in church or state, 
 is admired, commended^ or condemned, with some re- 
 gard to trade. 
 
154 A SERIOUS CALL TO A - 
 
 As money is continually pouring in upon him, so he 
 often lets it go in various kinds of expense and gene- 
 rosity, and sometimes in ways of charity. 
 
 Negotius is always ready to join in any public con- 
 tribution. If a purse is making at any place where 
 he happens to be, whether it be to buy a plate for a 
 horse-race, or to redeem a prisoner out of jail, you 
 are always sure of having something from him. 
 
 He has given a fine ring of bells to a church in the 
 country, and there is much expectation that he will 
 some time or other make a more beautiful front to the 
 market-house than has been seen in any place ; for it 
 is the generous spirit of Negotius to do nothing in a 
 mean way. 
 
 If you ask what it is that has secured Negotius from 
 all scandalous vices, .it is the same thing that has kept 
 him from all strictness of devotion ; it is his great bu- 
 siness. He has always had too many important things 
 in his head, his thoughts have been too much employed 
 to suffer him to fall either into any courses of rakery, 
 or to feel the necessity of an inward, solid piety. 
 
 For this reason, he hears of the pleasures of de- 
 bauchery and the pleasures of piety with the same in- 
 difference, and has no more desire of living in the one 
 than in the other, because neither of them consist 
 with that turn of mind and multiplicity of business 
 which are his happiness. 
 
 If Negotius was asked, what it is that he drives at 
 in life? he would be as much at a loss for an answer, 
 as if he was asked what any other person is thinking 
 of; for though he always seems to himself to know 
 what he is doing, and has many things in his head, 
 which are the motives of his actions, yet he cannot 
 tell you of any one general end of life, that he has 
 chosen with deliberation, as being truly worthy of all 
 his labour and pains. 
 
 He has several confused notions in his head, which 
 have been a long time there, such as these, viz. That 
 it is something great to have more business than other 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 1^5 
 
 people ; to have more dealings upon his hands than an 
 hundred of the same profession ; to grow continually 
 richer and richer, and to raise an immense fortune be- 
 fore he dies. The thing that seems to give Negotius 
 the greatest life and spirit, and to be most in his 
 thoughts, is an expectation that he shall die richer 
 than any of his business ever did. 
 
 The generality of people, when they think of hap- 
 piness, think upon Negotius, in whose life every in- 
 stance of happiness is supposed to meet ; sober, pru- 
 dent, rich, prosperous, generous, and cliaritable. 
 
 Let us now, therefore, look at this condition in ano- 
 ther but truer light. 
 
 Let it be supposed, that this same Negotius was a 
 painful, laborious man, every day deep in a variety of 
 affairs ; that he neither drank nor debauched, but was 
 sober and regular in his business. Let it be supposed 
 that he grew old in this course of trading ; and that 
 the end and design of all this labour, and care, and 
 application to business, was only this, that he might 
 die possessed of more than an hundred thousand pairs 
 of boots and spurs, and as many great-coats. 
 
 Let it be supposed that the sober part of the world 
 say of him when he is dead, that he was a great and 
 happy man, a thorough master of business, and had 
 acquired an hundred thousand pairs of boots and spurs 
 when he died. 
 
 Now, if this was really the case, I believe it would 
 be readily granted, that a life of such business was as 
 poor and ridiculous as any that can be invented. But 
 it would puzzle any one to shew, that a man that has 
 spent all his time and thoughts in business and hurry, 
 that he might die, as it is said, worth an hundred thou- 
 sand pounds, is any whit wiser than he who has taken 
 the same pains to have as many pairs of boots and 
 spurs when he leaves the world. 
 
 For if the temper and state of our souls be our 
 whole state ; if the only end of life be to die as free 
 from sin, and as exalted in virtue, as we can ; if na- 
 
156 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ked as we came^ so naked are we to return^ and to 
 stand a trial before Christ and his holy angels^ for 
 everlasting- happiness or misery ; what can it possi- 
 bly signify what a man had^ or had not^ in this world? 
 What can it signify what you call those things which 
 a man has left behind him? whether you call them his 
 or any one's else^ whether you call them trees or 
 fields, or birds or feathers ; whether you call them an 
 hundred thousand pounds or an hundred thousand 
 pairs of boots and spurs? I say, call them, for the 
 things signify no more to him than the names. 
 
 Now, it is easy to see the folly of a life thus spent 
 to furnish a man with such a number of boots and 
 spurs. But yet there needs no better faculty of see- 
 ing-, no finer understanding, to see the folly of a life 
 spent in making a man a possessor of ten towns be- 
 fore he dies. 
 
 For if, when he has got all his towns, or all his 
 boots, his soul is to go to its own place among sepa- 
 rate spirits, and his body be laid by in a coffin, till 
 the last trumpet calls him to judgment; where the in- 
 quiry will be, how humbly, how devoutly, how purely, 
 how meekly, how piously, how charitably, how hea- 
 venly we have spoke, thought, and acted, whilst we 
 were in the body ; how can we say, that he who has 
 worn out his life in raising an hundred thousand 
 pounds, has acted wiser for himself than he who has 
 had the same care to procure an hundred thousand 
 of any thing else? 
 
 But, furtlier, let it now be supposed that Negotius, 
 when he first entered into business, happened to read 
 the gospel with attention, and eyes open, found that 
 he had a much greater business upon his hands tlian 
 that to which he had served an apprenticeship ; that 
 there were things which belong to man, of much 
 greater importance than all that our eyes can see ; so 
 glorious as to deserve all our thoughts, so dangerous 
 as to need all our care, and so certain as never to de- 
 ceive the faithful labourer. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 157 
 
 Let it be supposed that, from reading this book, he 
 had discovered that his soul was more to liim than his 
 body ; that it was better to grow in the virtues of the 
 soul, than to have a large body or a full purse ; that it 
 was better to be fit for heaven, than to have a variety 
 of fine houses upon earth ; that it was better to secure 
 an everlasting happiness, than to have plenty of things 
 which he cannot keep ; better to live in habits of hu- 
 mility, piety, devotion, charity, and self-denial, than 
 to die unprepared for judgment ; better to be most like 
 our Saviour, or some eminent saint, than to excel all the 
 tradesmen in the world in business and bulk of fortune. 
 
 Let it be supposed that Negotius, believing these 
 things to be true, entirel}'' devoted himself to God at 
 his first setting out in the world, resolving to pursue 
 his business no further than was consistent with great 
 devotion, humility, and self-denial ; and for no other 
 ends but to provide himself with a sober subsistence, 
 and to do all the good that he could to the souls and 
 bodies of his fellow-creatures. 
 
 Let it therefore be supposed that, instead of the 
 continual hurry of business, he was frequent in his re- 
 tirements, and a strict observer of all the hours of 
 prayer; that, instead of restless desires after more 
 riches, his soul had been full of the love of God and 
 heavenly affection, constantly watching against world- 
 ly tempers, and always aspiring after divine grace; 
 that, instead of worldly cares and contrivances, lie was 
 busy in fortifying his soul against all approaches of 
 sin ; that, instead of costly show and expensive gene- 
 rosity of a splendid life, he loved and exercised all in- 
 stances of humility and lowliness ; that, instead of 
 great treats and full tables, his house only furnished a 
 sober refreshment to those that wanted it. 
 
 Let it be supposed, that his contentment kept him 
 free from all kinds of envy ; that his piety made him 
 thankful to' God in all crosses and disappointments; 
 that his charity kept him from being rich by a conti- 
 nual distribution to all objects of compassion. 
 
158 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Now, had this been the Christian spirit of Negoti- 
 us, can any one say that he had lost the true joy and 
 happiness of life by thus conforming- to the spirit, and 
 living up to the hopes of the gospel ? 
 
 Can it be said, that a life made exemplary by such 
 virtues as these, which keep heaven always in our 
 sight, which both delight and exalt the soul here, and 
 prepare it for the presence of God hereafter, must be 
 poor and dull, if compared to that of heaping up rich- 
 es, which can neither stay with us nor we with them? 
 
 It would be endless to multiply examples of this 
 kind, to shew you how little is lost, and how much is 
 gained, by introducing a strict and exact piety into 
 every condition of human life. 
 
 I shall now, therefore, leave it to your own medita- 
 tion to carry this way of thinking further, hoping that 
 you are enough directed, by what is here said, to con- 
 vince yourself that a true and exalted piety is so far 
 from rendering any life dull and tiresome, that it is 
 the only joy and happiness of every condition in the 
 world. 
 
 Imagine to yourself some person in a consumption, 
 or any other lingering distemper that is incurable. 
 
 If you was to see such a man wholly intent upon 
 doing every thing in the spirit of religion, making the 
 wisest use of all his time, fortune, and abilities. If he 
 was for carrying every duty of piety to its greatest 
 height, and striving to have all the advantage that 
 could be had from the remainder of his hfe. If he 
 avoided all business but such as was necessary ; if he 
 was averse to all the follies and vanities of the world, 
 had no taste for finery and show, but sought for all his 
 comfort in the hopes and expectations of religion ; you 
 would certainly commend his prudence, you would 
 say that he had taken the right method to make him- 
 self joyful and happy as any one can be in a state of 
 such infirmity. 
 
 On the other hand, if you should see the same per* 
 son, with trembhng hands, short breath, thin jaws^ 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 159 
 
 «nd hollow eyeSj wholly intent upon business and bar- 
 gains as long- as he could speak. If you should see 
 him pleased with fine clothes, when he could scarce 
 stefcid to be dressed, and laying out his money in hor- 
 ses and dogs rather than purchase the prayers of the 
 poor for his soul, which was so soon to be separated 
 from his body, you would certainly condemn him as a 
 weak, silly man. 
 
 Now, as it is easy to see the reasonableness, the 
 wisdom, and happiness of a rehgious spirit in a con- 
 sumptive man ; so, if you pursue the same way of 
 thinking, you will as easily perceive the same wisdom 
 and happiness of a pious temper in every other state 
 of life. 
 
 For how soon w'ill every man that is in health be in 
 the state of him that is in a consumption! How soon 
 will he want all the same comforts and satisfactions of 
 religion which every dying man wants ! 
 
 And if it be wise and happy to live piously, because 
 we have not above a year to live, is it not being more 
 wise, and making ourselves more happy, because we 
 may have more years to come? If one year of piety 
 before we die is so desirable, is not more years of piety 
 much more desirable? 
 
 If a man has five fixed years to live, he could not 
 possibly think at all, without intending to make the 
 best use of them all. When he saw his stay so short 
 in this world, he must needs think that this was not a 
 world for him ; and when he saw how near he was to 
 another world, that was eternal, he must sureiy think 
 it very necessary to be very diligent in preparing him- 
 self for it. 
 
 Now, as reasonable as piety appears in such a cir-- 
 cumstance of life, it is yet more reasonable in every 
 circumstance of life to every thinking man. 
 
 For who but a madman can reckon that he has five 
 years certain to come? 
 
 And if it be reasonable and necessary to deny our 
 worldly tempers, and live wholly unto God, because 
 
160 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 we are certain that we are to die at the end of five 
 years ; surely it must be more reasonable and neces- 
 sary for us to live in the same spirit, because we have 
 no certainty that we shall live five weeks. 
 
 Again, if we were to add twenty years to the five, 
 which is in all probability more than will be added to 
 the lives of many people who are at man's estate, 
 what a poor thing is this! how small a difference is 
 there between five and twenty-five years ? 
 
 It is said, that a day is with God as a thousand years, 
 and a thousand years as one day ; because in regard 
 to his eternity, this difference is as nothing. 
 
 Now, as we are all created to be eternal, to live in 
 an endless succession of ages upon ages, where thou- 
 sands, and. millions of thousands of years Avill have no 
 proportion to our everlasting life in God ; so with re- 
 gard to this eternal state, which is our real state, twen- 
 ty-five years is as poor a pittance as twenty-five days. 
 
 Now, we can never make any true judgment of time 
 as it relates to us, without considering the true state 
 of our duration. If we are temporary being?, then a 
 little time may justly be called a great deal in relation 
 to us : but if we are eternal beings, then the difference 
 of a few years is as nothing. 
 
 If we were to suppose three different sorts of rati- 
 onal beings, all of different but fixed duration, one 
 sort that lived certainly only a month, the other a 
 year, and the third an hundred years. 
 
 Now, if these beings were to meet together and talk 
 about time, they must talk in a very different lan- 
 guage ; half an hour to those who were to live but a 
 month must be a very different thing to what it is to 
 those who are to live a hundred years. 
 
 As, therefore, time is thus different a thing with re- 
 gard to the state of those who enjoy it, so if we would 
 know what time is with regard to ourselves, we must 
 consider our state. 
 
 Now, since our eternal state is as certainly ours as 
 our present state ; since we are as certainly to live for 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 161 
 
 ever as we now live at all ; it is plain that we cannot 
 judge of the value of any particular time, as to us, but 
 by comparing it to that eternal duration for which we 
 are created. 
 
 If you would know what five years signify to a be- 
 ing that was to live an hundred, you must compare 
 five to an hundred, and see what proportion it bears 
 to it, and then you will judge right. 
 
 So, if you would know what twenty years signify to 
 a son of Adam, you must compare it, not to a million of 
 ages, but to an eternal duration, to which no number of 
 millions bears any proportion, and then you will judge 
 right by finding nothing. 
 
 Consider, therefore, this ; how would you condemn 
 the folly of a man that should lose his share of future 
 glory for the sake of being rich, or great, or praised, 
 or delighted in any enjoyment, only one poor day be- 
 fore he was to die ? 
 
 But if the time will come, when a number of years 
 will seem less to every one than a day does now, what 
 a condemnation must it then be, if eternal happiness 
 should appear to be lost for something less than the 
 enjoyment of a day ? 
 
 Why does a day seem a trifle to us now ? It is be- 
 cause we have years to set against it ; it is the dura- 
 tion of years that makes it appear as nothing. 
 
 What a trifle, therefore, must the years of a man's 
 age appear, when they are forced to be set against 
 eternity, when there shall be nothing but eternity to 
 compare them with ! 
 
 Now, this will be the case of every man as soon as 
 he is out of the body ; he will be forced to forget the 
 distinctions of days and years, and to measure time, 
 not by the course of the sun, but by setting it against 
 eternity. 
 
 As the fixed stars, by reason of our being placed at 
 such distance from them, appear but as so many points, 
 so when we are placed in eternity, and shall look 
 back upon all time, it will appear but as a moment. 
 
 M 
 
162 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Then a luxury, an indulgence, a prosperity, a great- 
 ness of fifty years, will seem, to every one that looks 
 back upon it, as the same poor, short enjoyment, as if 
 he had been snatched away in his first sin. 
 
 These few reflections upon time tend only to shcAV 
 how poorly they think, how miserably they judge, who 
 are less careful of an eternal state, because they may 
 be some years distant from it, than they would be, if 
 they knew they were within a few weeks of it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Concerning that part of Devotion, ivhich relates to 
 Times and Hours of Prayer. Of daily early 
 Prayer in the Morning. How ice are to improve 
 our Forms of Prayer, and how to increase the 
 Spirit of Devotion. 
 
 HAVING, in the foregoing chapters, shewn the 
 necessity of a devout spirit, or habit of mind, in every 
 part of our common life, in the discharge of all our 
 business, in the use of all the gifts of God, I come now 
 to consider that part of devotion which relates to 
 times and hours of prayer. 
 
 I take it for granted that every Christian who is in 
 health is up early in the morning ; for it is much 
 more reasonable to suppose a person up early because 
 he is a Christian, than because he is a labourer, or a 
 tradesman, or a servant^ or has business that wants 
 him. 
 
 We naturally conceive some abhorrence of a man 
 that is in bed when he should be at his labour, or in 
 bis shop. AVe cannot tell how to think any thing 
 good of him who is such a slave to drowsiness as to 
 neglect his business for it. 
 
 Let this, therefore, teach us to conceive how odious 
 we must appear in the sight of heavenj if we are in 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE, 163 
 
 bedj shut up in sleep and darkness^ Avhen we should be 
 praising- God_, and are such slaves to drowsiness as to 
 neglect our devotions for it. 
 
 For if he is to be blamed as a slothful drone, that 
 rather chooses the lazy indulgence of sleep, than to 
 perform his proper share of worldly business, how 
 much is he to be reproached that had rather lie folded 
 up in a bed, than be raising up his heart to God, in 
 acts of praise and adoration { 
 
 Prayer is the nearest approach to God, and the 
 highest enjoyment of him, that we are capable of in 
 this life. 
 
 It is the noblest exercise of the soul, the most exalt- 
 ed use of our best faculties, and the highest estimation 
 of the blessed inhabitants of heaven. 
 
 When our hearts are full of God, sending up holy 
 \ desires to the throne of grace, we are then in our 
 highest state ; we are upon the utmost heights of hu- 
 man greatness ; we are not before kings and princes, 
 but in the presence and audience of the Lord of all 
 the world, and can be no higher, till death is swallow- 
 ed up in glory. 
 
 On the other hand, sleep is the poorest, dullest re- 
 freshment of the body, that is so far from being in- 
 tended as an enjoyment, that we are forced to receive 
 it either in a state of insensibility, or in the folly of 
 dreams. 
 
 Sleep is such a dull stupid state of existence, that 
 even amongst mere animals, we despise them most 
 which are most drowsy. He, therefore, that chooses 
 to enlarge the slothful indulgence of sleep, rather 
 than be early at his devotions to God, chooses the 
 dullest refreshment of the body, before the highest, 
 noblest employment of the soul ; he chooses that state, 
 which is a reproach to mere animals, rather than that 
 exercise, which is the glory of angels. 
 
 You will perhaps say, though you rise late, yet you 
 are always careful of your devotions when you are up. 
 
 It may be so ; but what then ? Is it well done of 
 
 m2 
 
16i A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 you to rise late because you pray when you are up ? 
 Is it pardonable to waste great part of the day in bed, 
 because some time after you say your prayers? 
 
 It is as much your duty to rise to pray as to pray 
 when you are risen. And if you are late at your pray- 
 ers^ you offer to God the prayers of an idle, slothful 
 worshipper, that rises to prayers as idle servants rise 
 to their labour. 
 
 Further, if you fancy that you are careful of your 
 devotions when you are up, though it be your custom 
 to rise late, you deceive yourself; for you cannot per- 
 form your devotions as you ought. For he that can- 
 not deny himself this drowsy indulgence, but must 
 pass away good part of the morning in it, is no more 
 prepared for prayer when he is up than he is prepared 
 for fasting, abstinence, or any other self-denial. He 
 may, indeed, more easily read over a form of prayer 
 than he can perform these duties ; but he is no more 
 disposed to enter into the true spirit of prayer than he 
 is disposed to fasting-. For sleep, thus indulged, gives 
 a softness and idleness to all our tempers, and makes 
 us unable to relish any thing but what suits with an 
 idle state of mind, and gratihes our natural tempers as 
 sleep does. So that a person that is a slave to this 
 idleness is in the same temper when he is up ; and 
 though he is not asleep, yet he is under the effects of 
 it; and every thing that is idle, indulgent, or sensual, 
 pleases him, for the same reason that sleep pleases 
 him ; and, on the other hand, every thing that re- 
 quires care or trouble, or self-denial, is hateful to him, 
 for the same reason that he hates to rise. He that 
 places any happiness in this morning indulgence would 
 be glad to have all the day made happy in the same 
 manner; though not with sleep, yet with such enjoy- 
 ments as gratify and indulge the body in the same 
 manner as sleep does ; or, at least, with such as come 
 as near to it as they can. The remembrance of a 
 warm bed is in his mind all the day, and he is glad 
 when he is not one of those that sit starving- in a church. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 165 
 
 Now, you do not imagine that such a one can truly 
 mortify that body which he thus indulges ; yet you 
 might as well think this as that he can truly perform 
 his devotions, or live in such a drowsy state of indul- 
 gence, and yet relish the joys of a spiritual life. 
 
 For surely no one will pretend to say tiiat he knows 
 and feels the true happiness of prayer, who does not 
 think it worth his while to be early at it. 
 
 It is not possible in nature for an epicure to be tru- 
 ly devout ; he must renounce this habit of sensuality 
 before he can relish the happiness of devotion. 
 
 Now, he that turns sleep into an idle indulgence 
 does as much to corrupt and disorder his soul, to make 
 it a slave to bodily appetites, and keep it incapable of 
 all devout and heavenly tempers, as he that turns the 
 necessities of eating into a course of indulgence. 
 
 A person that eats and drinks too much does not 
 feel such effects from it as those do who live in noto- 
 rious instances of gluttony and intemperance ; but yet 
 his course of indulgence, though it be not scandalous 
 in the eyes of the world, nor such as torments his own 
 conscience, is a great and constant hindrance to his 
 improvement in virtue ; it gives him eyes that see 
 not, and ears that hear not ; it creates a sensuahty in 
 the soul, increases the power of bodily passions, and 
 makes him incapable of entering into the true spirit of 
 religion. 
 
 Now, this is the case of those who waste their time 
 in sleep ; it does not disorder their lives, or wound 
 their consciences, as notorious acts of intemperance 
 do; but, like any other more moderate course of in- 
 dulgence, it silently, and by smaller degrees, wears 
 away the spirit of religion, and sinks the soul into a 
 state of dulness and sensuality. 
 
 If you consider devotion only as a time of so much 
 prayer, you may perhaps perform it, though you live 
 in this daily indulgence ; but if you consider it as a 
 state of the heart, as a lively fervour of the soul, that 
 is deeply atfectcd with a sense of its own misery and 
 
 m3 
 
166 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 infirmities^ and desiring the Spirit of God more than 
 all things in the worlds you will find that the spirit of 
 indulg-ence and the spirit of prayer cannot subsist to- 
 gether. Mortification of all kinds is the very life 
 and soul of piety ; but he that has not so small a de- 
 gree of it as to be able to be early at his prayers^ can 
 have no reason to think that he has taken up his cross, 
 and is following Christ. 
 
 What conquest has he got over himself? what right 
 hand has he cut off? what trials is he prepared for? what 
 sacrifice is he ready to offer unto God ? who cannot 
 be so cruel to himself as to rise to prayer at such a 
 time as the drudging part of the world are content to 
 rise to their labour. 
 
 Some people will not scruple to tell you that they 
 indulge themselves in sleep, because they have nothing 
 to do; and that if they had either business or pleasure 
 to rise to^ they would not lose so much of their time in 
 sleep. But such people must be told that they mis- 
 take the matter ; that they have a great deal of busi- 
 ness to do ; they have a burdened heart to change ; 
 they have the whole spirit of religion to get. For, 
 surely, he that thinks devotion to be of less moment 
 than business or pleasure, or that he has nothing to 
 do, because nothing but his prayers want him, maybe 
 justly said to have the whole spirit of religion to seek. 
 
 You must not therefore consider how small a crime 
 it is to rise late, but you must consider how great a 
 misery it is to want the spirit of religion ; to have a 
 heart not rightly affected v/ith prayer ; and to live in 
 such softness and idleness, as makes you incapable of 
 the most fundamental duties of a truly Christian and 
 spiritual life. 
 
 This is the right way of judging of the crime of 
 wasting great part of your time in bed. 
 
 You must not consider the thing barely in itself, 
 but what it proceeds from ; what virtues it shcAvs to 
 be wanting ; what vices it naturally strengthens. 
 For every habit of this kind discovers the state of the 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 167 
 
 soul^ and plainly shews the whole turn of your mind. 
 
 If our blessed Lord used to pray early before day ; 
 if he spent whole nights in prayer; if the devout 
 Anna was day and night in the temple ; if St. Paul 
 and Silas at midnight sang praises unto God; if the 
 primitive Christians, for several hundred years, be- 
 sides their hours of prayer in the daytime, met public- 
 ly in the churches at midnight to join in psalms and 
 prayers, is it not certain that these practices shewed 
 the state of their heart ? Are they not so many plain 
 proofs of the whole turn of their minds? 
 
 And if you live in a contrary state, wasting great 
 part of every day in sleep, thinking any time soon 
 enough to be at your prayers, is it not equally certain 
 that this practice as much shews the state of your 
 heart, and the whole turn of your mind? 
 
 So that, if this indulgence is your way of life, you 
 have as much reason to believe yourself destitute of 
 the true spirit of devotion, as you have to believe the 
 apostles and saints of the primitive church were truly 
 devout. For as their way of life was a demonstration 
 of their devotion, so a contrary way of life is as strong 
 a proof of a want of devotion. 
 
 When you read the scriptures you see a religion 
 that is all life, and spirit, and joy in G^d; that sup- 
 poses our soul risen from earthly desires, and bodily 
 indulgences, to prepare for another body, another 
 world, and other enjoyments. You see Christians re- 
 presented as temples of the Holy Ghost, as children of 
 the day, as candidates for an eternal crown, as watch- 
 ful virgins that have ttieir lamps always burning in 
 expectation of the bridegroom. But can he be 
 thought to have this joy in God, this care of eternity, 
 this watchful spirit, who has not zeal enough to rise to 
 his prayers? 
 
 When you look into the writings and lives of the 
 first Christians, you see the same spirit that you sec in 
 the scriptures. All is reality, life, and action. Watch- 
 
 M 4 
 
168 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ing-s and prayers, self-denial and mortification, wa» 
 the common business of their lives. 
 
 From that time to this there has been no person 
 like them, eminent foi* piety, who has not, like them, 
 been eminent for self-denial and mortification. This 
 is tiie only royal way that leads to a kingdom. 
 
 But how far are you from this way of life, or rather 
 how contrary to it, if instead of imitating' their auste- 
 rity and mortification, you cannot so much as renounce 
 so poor an indulgence as to be able to rise to your 
 prayers ? If self-denials and bodily sufferings, if 
 watchings and fastings, will be marks of glory at the 
 day of judgment, where must we hide our heads that 
 have slumbered away our time in sloth and softness ? 
 
 You perhaps now find some pretences to excuse 
 yourself from the severity of fasting and self-denial, 
 which the first Christians practised. You fancy that 
 human nature is grown v/eaker, and that the differ- 
 ence of climates may make it not possible for you to 
 observe their methods of self-denial and austerity in 
 these colder countries. 
 
 But all this is but pretence ; for the change is not 
 in the outward state of things, but in the inward state 
 of our minds. When there is the same spirit in us 
 that there was in the apostles and primitive Christians, 
 when we feel the weight of religion as they did, when 
 we have their faith and hope, we shall take up our 
 cross and deny ourselves, and live in such methods of 
 mortification as they did. 
 
 Had St. Paul lived in a cold country, had he had a 
 constitution made weak with a sickly stomach, and 
 often infirmities, he would have done as he advised 
 Timothy ; he would have mixed a little wine with his 
 water. 
 
 But still he would have lived in a state of self-denial 
 and mortification. He would have given this same 
 account of himself. " I therefore so run, not as un- 
 certainly ; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air; 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 169 
 
 but I keep under my body;, and bring it into subjec- 
 tion, lest that by any means, when I have preached to 
 others, I myself should be a cast-away." 
 
 After all, let it now be supposed, that you imagine 
 there is no necessity for you to be so sober and vigi- 
 lant, so fearful of yourself, so watchful over your pas- 
 sions, so apprehensive of danger, so careful of your 
 salvation, as the apostles were. Let it be supposed, 
 that you imagine thatyou want less self-denial and mor- 
 tification to subdue your bodies, and purify your souls, 
 than they wanted ; that you need not have your loins 
 girt, and your lamps burning as they had ; will you 
 therefore live in a quite contrary state? WUl you 
 make your life as constant a course of softness and in-* 
 dulgence, as theirs was of strictness and self-denial ? 
 
 If, therefore, you should think that you have time 
 sufficient both for prayer and other duties, though you 
 rise late, yet let me persuade you to rise early, as an 
 instance of self-denial. It is so small a one that if you 
 cannot comply with it, you have no reason to think 
 yourself capable of any other. 
 
 If I was to desire you not to study the gratification 
 of your palate in the niceties of meats and drinks, I 
 would not insist much upon the crime of wasting- your 
 money in such a way though it be a great one ; but I 
 would desire you to renounce such a way of life, be- 
 cause it supports you in such a state of sensuality and 
 indulgence, as renders you incapable of relishing the 
 most essential doctrines of religion. 
 
 For the same reason, I do not insist much on the 
 crime of wasting so much of your time in sleep, though 
 it be a great one; but 1 desire you to renounce this 
 indulgence, because it gives a softness and idleness to 
 your soul, and is so contrary to that lively, zealous, 
 watchful, self-denying spirit, which was not only the 
 spirit of Christ and his apostles, the spirit of all the 
 saints and martyrs which have ever been amongst 
 men, but must be the spirit of all those wlio would 
 not sink in the common corruption of the world. 
 
170 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Here, therefore, we must fix our charge against 
 this practice ; we must blame it, not as having this or 
 that particular evil, but as a general habit that extends 
 itself through our whole spirit, and supports a state 
 of mind that is wholly wrong. 
 
 It is contrary to piety ; not as accidental slips and 
 mistakes in life are contrary to it, but in such a man- 
 ner as an ill habit of body is contrary to health. 
 
 On the other hand, if you was to rise early every 
 morning, as an instance of self-denial, as a method of 
 renouncing indulgence, as a means of redeeming 
 your time, and htting your spirit for prayer, you 
 M would find mighty advantages from it. This method, 
 ^ though it seems such a small circumstance of hfe, 
 would in all probability be a means of great piety. It 
 would keep it constantly in your head, that softness 
 and idleness were to be avoided, that self-denial was a 
 part of Christianity. It would teach you to exercise 
 power over yourself, and make you able by degrees 
 to renounce other pleasures and tempers that war 
 against the soul. 
 
 This one rule would teach you to think of others ; 
 it would dispose your mind to exactness, and be very 
 likely to bring the remaining part of the day under 
 rules of prudence and devotion. 
 
 But, above all, one certain benefit from this method 
 you Avill be sure of having, it will best fit and prepare 
 you for the reception of the Holy Spirit. When you 
 thus begin the day in the spirit of renouncing sleep, 
 because you are to renounce softness, and redeem your 
 time ; this disposition, as it puts your heart in a good 
 state, so it will procure the assistance of the Holy Spi- 
 rit; what is so planted and watered Avill certainly 
 have an increase from God. You will then speak 
 from your heart, your soul will be awake, your pray- 
 ers will refresh you like meat and drink, you will feel 
 what you say, and begin to know what saints and holy 
 men have meant by fervours of devotion. 
 
 He that is thus prepared for prayer, who rises with 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 171 
 
 these dispositions^ is in a very ditferent state from him 
 who has no rules of this kind, who rises by chance, as 
 he happens to be weary of his bed, or is able to sleep 
 no longer. If such a one prays only with his mouth ; 
 if his heart feels nothing of that which he says; if his 
 prayers are only things of course ; if they are a lifeless 
 form of words, which he only repeats because they are 
 soon said, there is nothing to be wondered at in al! 
 this ; for such dispositions are the natural effect of 
 such a state of life. 
 
 Hoping, therefore, that you are now enough con- 
 vinced of the necessity of rising early to your prayers, I 
 shall proceed to lay before you a method of daily prayer. 
 
 I do not take upon me to prescribe to you the use ^ 
 of any particular forms of prayer, but only to shcAV the ^ 
 necessity of praying at such times and in such a manner. 
 
 You will here find some helps, how to furnish 
 yourself with such forms of prayer as shall be useful 
 to you. And if you are such a proficient in the spi- 
 rit of devotion, that your heart is always ready to pray 
 in its own language, in this case I press no necessity 
 of borrowed forms. 
 
 For though 1 think a form of prayer very necessary 
 and expedient for public worship, yet if any one can 
 find a better way of raising his heart unto God in pri- 
 vate than by prepared forms of prayer, I have nothing 
 to object against it; my design being only to assist 
 and direct such as stand in need of assistance. 
 
 Thus much, 1 believe, is certain, that the generality 
 o? Christians ought to use forms of prayer at all the 
 regular times of prayer. It seems right for every one | 
 to begin with a form of prayer ; and if, in the midst 
 of devotions, he finds his heart ready to break forth 
 into new and higher strains of devotion, he should 
 leave his form for a while, and follow those fervours of 
 his heart, till it again wants the assistance of his useful 
 petitions. 
 
 This seems to be the true liberty of private devo- 
 tion ; it should be under the direction of some form ; 
 
17^ A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 but not so tied down to it^ but that it may be free to 
 take such new expressions as its present fervours hap- 
 pen to furnish it with ; which sometimes are more af- 
 fecting, and carry the soul more powerfully to God, 
 than any expressions that were ever used before. 
 
 All people that have ever made any reflections upon 
 what passes in their own hearts, must know that they 
 are mighty changeable in regard to devotion. Some- 
 times our hearts are sg awakened^ have such strong- 
 apprehensions of the divine presence, are so full of 
 deep compunction for our sins, that we cannot confess 
 them in any language but that of tears. 
 
 Sometimes the light of God's countenance shines so 
 bright upon us, we see so far into the invisible worlds 
 we are so affected vvith the wonders of the love and 
 goodness of God, that our hearts worship and adore 
 in a language higher than that of words, and we feel 
 transports of devotion which only can be felt. 
 
 On the other hand, sometimes we are so sunk into 
 our bodies, so dull and unaffected with that which con- 
 cerns our souls, that our hearts are as much too low 
 for our prayers ; we cannot keep pace with our forms 
 of confession, or feel half of that in our hearts which 
 we have in our mouths ; we thank and praise God with 
 forms of words, hut our hearts have little or no share 
 in them. 
 
 It is therefore highly necessary to provide against 
 this inconstancy of our hearts, by having at hand such 
 forms of prayer as may best suit us when our hearts 
 are in their best state, and also be most likely to raise 
 and stir them up when they are sunk into dulness. 
 For as words have a power of alTecting our hearts on 
 all occasions, as the same thing differently expressed 
 has different efiects upon our minds, so it is reason- 
 able that we should make this advantage of language, 
 and provide ourselves with such forms of expressions 
 as are most likely to move and enliven our souls, and 
 till them with sentiments suitable to them. 
 I The first thing that you are to do when you are 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 173 
 
 upon your knees, is to shut your, eyes, and, with a \ 
 short silence, let your soul place itself in the presence ^ 
 of God ; that is, you are to use this or some other bet- 
 ter method to separate yourself from all common 
 thoughts, and make your hearts as sensible as you can 
 of the divine presence. 
 
 Now, if this recollection of spirit is necessary, as 
 who can say it is not? then how poorly must they per- 
 form their devotions, who are always in a hurry ; who 
 beg'in them in haste, and hardly allow themselves time 
 to repeat their very form, with any gravity or atten- 
 tion ? Theirs is properly saying prayers, instead of 
 praying. 
 
 To proceed ; if you was to use yourself (as far as 
 you can) to pray always in the same place ; if you 
 was to reserve tiiat place for devotion, and not allow 
 yourself to do any thing common in it ; if you was ne- 
 ver to be there yourself, but in times of devotion; if 
 any little room, or (if that cannot be) if any particular 
 part of a room, was thus used, this kind of consecra- 
 tion of it, as a place holy unto God, would have an | 
 effect upon your mind, and dispose you to such tern- ( 
 pers as would very much assist your devotion. For, | 
 by having a place thus sacred in your room, it would t 
 in some measure resemble a chapci, or house of God. 
 This would dispose you to be always in the spirit of 
 religion when you was there, and till you with wise 
 and holy thoughts when you was by yourself. Your 
 own apartment would raise in your mind such senti- 
 ments as you have when you stand near an altar ; and 
 you would be afraid of thinking or doing any thing 
 that was foolish near that place, which is the place of 
 prayer, and holy intercourse with God. 
 
 When you begin your petitions, use such various 
 expressions of the attributes of God as may make you 
 most sensible of the greatness and power of the divine \ 
 nature. 
 
 Begin, therefore, in words like these : " O Being of 
 all beings, Fpuntain of all light and glory, gracious 
 
174 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Father of men and angels, whose universal Spirit is 
 everywhere present, giving life, and light, and joy to 
 all angels in heaven, and all creatures upon earth," &c. 
 
 For these representations of the divine attributes, 
 which shew us in some degree the majesty and great- 
 ness of God, are an excellent means of raising our 
 hearts into lively acts of worship and adoration. 
 
 What is the reason that most people are so much 
 aft'ected with this petition in the burial service of our 
 church : '' Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most 
 mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us 
 not into the bitter pains of eternal death?" It is be- 
 cause the joining- together so many great expressions, 
 g-ives such a description of the greatness of the Divine 
 Majesty as naturally affects every sensible mind. 
 
 Although, therefore, prayer does not consist in fine 
 words or studied expressions, yet as words speak to 
 the soul, as they have a certain power of raising 
 thoughts in the soul ; so those words which speak of 
 God in the highest manner, which most fully express 
 the power and presence of God, which raise thoughts 
 in the soul most suitable to the greatness and provi- 
 dence of God, are the most useful and moat edifying- 
 j I in our prayers. 
 
 When you direct any of your petitions to our bless- 
 ed Lord, let it be in some expressions of this kind : 
 ' '^O Saviour of the world, God of God, Light of Light, 
 thou that art the brightness of thy Father's glory, and 
 the express Image of his person ; thou that art the Al- 
 pha and Omega, the beginning and end of all things; 
 thou that hast destroyed the power of the devil ; thou 
 that hast overcome death ; thou that art entered into 
 the Holy of holies ; that sittest at the right hand of 
 the Father ; that art high above all thrones and prin- 
 cipalities ; that makest intercession for all the world ; 
 thou that art the judge of the quick and dead; 
 thou that wilt speedily come down in thy Father's 
 glory to reward all men according to their works, be 
 thou my light and my peace/' &c. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 175 
 
 For such representations, which describe so many 
 characters of our Saviour's nature and power, are not 
 only proper acts of adoration, but will, if they are re- 
 peated with attention, till our hearts with the highest 
 fervours of true devotion. 
 
 Again, if you ask any particular j:^race of our bless- 
 ed Lord, let it be in some manner like this : 
 
 " O ! holy Jesus, son of the most hig-h God, thou 
 that was scourged at a pillar, stretched and nailed on 
 a cross for the sins of the world, unite me to thy cross, 
 and fill my soul with thy holy, humble, and suffering 
 spirit ! O ! Fountain of mercy, thou that didst save the 
 thief upon the cross, save me from the guilt of a sin- 
 ful life ; thou that didst cast seven devils out of Mary 
 Magdalene, cast out of my heart all evil thoughts and 
 wicked tempers. O ! Giver of life, thou that didst 
 raise Lazarus from the dead, raise up my soul from 
 the death and darkness of sin. Thou that didst give 
 to thy apostles power over unclean spirits, give me 
 poAver over mine own heart. Thou that didst appear 
 unto thy disciples when the doors were shut^ do thou 
 appear to me in the secret apartments of my heart. 
 Thou that didst cleanse the lepers, heal the sick, and 
 give sight to the blind, cleanse my heart, heal the dis- 
 orders of my soul, and fill me with heavenly light." 
 
 Now, these appeals have a double advantage : Firsts 
 As they are so many proper acts of our faith, whereby 
 we not only shew our belief of the miracles of Christ, 
 but turn them at the same time into so many instan- 
 ces of worship and adoration. 
 
 Secondly/, As they strengthen and increase the faith 
 of our prayers, by presenting to our mind so many in- 
 stances of that power and goodness,, which we call 
 upon for our own assistance. 
 
 For he that appeals to Christ, as casting out devils, 
 and raising the dead, has then a powerful motive in his 
 hand to pray earnestly and depend faithfully upon his 
 assistance. 
 
 Again, in order to fill your prayers with excellent 
 
176 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 strains of devotion, it may be of use to you to observe 
 this further rule : 
 
 When at any time, either in reading- the scripture 
 or any book of piety, you meet with a passage that 
 more than ordinarily affects your mind, and seems as 
 it were to give your heart a new motion towards God, 
 you should try to turn it into the form of a petition, 
 and then give it a place in your prayers. 
 
 By this means you would be often improving your 
 prayers, and storing yourself with proper forms of 
 making the desires of your heart known unto God. 
 
 At all the stated hours of prayer it will be of great 
 benefit to you to have something fixed, and some- 
 thing at liberty in your devotions. 
 
 You should have some fixed subject which is con- 
 stantly to be the chief matter of your prayer at that 
 particular time ; and yet have liberty to add such other 
 petitions as your condition may then require. 
 
 For instance : As the morning is to you the begin- 
 ning of new life ; as God has then given you a new 
 enjoyment of yourself, and a fresh entrance into the 
 world, it is highly proper that your first devotions 
 should be a praise and thanksgiving to God, as for a 
 new creation ; and that you should offer and devote 
 body and soul, all that you are, and all that you have, 
 to his service and glory. 
 
 Receive, therefore, every day as a resurrection from 
 death, as a new enjoyment of life; meet every rising 
 sun with such sentiments of God's goodness as if you 
 had seen it, and all things, new created upon your 
 account ; and, under the sense of so great a blessing, 
 let your joyful heart praise and magnify so good and 
 glorious a Creator. 
 
 Let, therefore, praise and thanksgiving, and obla- 
 tion of yourself unto God, be always the fixed and cer- 
 tain subject of your first prayers in the morning ; and 
 then take the liberty of adding such other devotions as 
 the accidental difference of your state, or the acciden- 
 tal difference of your heart, shall then make most 
 needful and expedient for you. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 177 
 
 For one of the greatest benefits of private devotion 
 consists in rightly adapting our prayers to these two 
 conditions — the difference of our state,, and the differ- 
 ence of our hearts. 
 
 By the difference of our state is meant the differ- 
 ence of our eternal state or condition^, as of sickness, 
 health, pains, losses, disappointments, troubles, parti- 
 cular mercies or judgments from God; all sorts of 
 kindnesses, injuries, or reproaches, from other people. 
 
 Now, as these are great parts of our state of life, as 
 they make great difference in it, by continually 
 changing, so our devotion will be made doubly bene- 
 ficial to us, when it watches to receive and sanctify all 
 these changes of our state, and turns tiiem all into so 
 many occasions of a more particular application to 
 God of such thanksgivings, such resignation, such 
 petitions, as our present state more especially re- 
 quires. 
 
 And he that makes every change in his state a rea- 
 son of presenting unto God some particular petitions 
 suitable to that change, will soon find that he has 
 taken an excellent means, not only of praying with 
 fervour, but of living as he prays. 
 
 The next condition, to which we are always to 
 adapt some part of our prayers, is the difference of 
 our hearts, by which is meant the different state of the 
 tempers of our hearts, as of love, joy, peace, tranquilli- 
 ty, dulness and dryness of spirit, anxiety, discontent, 
 motions of envy and ambition, dark and disconsolate 
 thoughts, resentments, fretfulness, and peevish tem- 
 pers. 
 
 Now, as these tempers, through the weakness of 
 our nature, will have their succession more or less 
 even in pious minds, so we should constantly make 
 the present state of our heart the reason of some par- 
 ticular application to God. 
 
 If we are in the delightful calm of sweet and easy 
 passions, of love and joy in God, we should then offer 
 the grateful tribute of thanksgiving to God for the 
 
178 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 possession of so much happiness, thankfully owning 
 and acknowledging- him as the bountiful Giver of it 
 all. 
 
 If, on the other hand, we feel ourselves laden with 
 heavy passions, with dulness of spirit, anxiety, and un- 
 easiness, Ave must then look up to God in acts of hu- 
 mility, confessing our unworthiness, opening our 
 troubles to him, beseeching him in his good time to 
 lessen the weight of our infirmities, and to deliver us 
 from such passions as oppose the purity and perfectioi\ 
 of our souls. 
 
 Now, by thus watching and attending to the pre- 
 sent state of our hearts, and suiting some of our peti- 
 tions exactly to their wants, we shall not only be well 
 acquainted with the disorders of our souls, but also be 
 well exercised in the methods of curing them. 
 
 By this prudent and wise application of our pray- 
 ers, we shall get all the relief from them that is possi- 
 ble ; and the very changeableness of our hearts will 
 prove a means of exercising a greater variety of holy 
 tempers. 
 
 Now, by all that has here been said, you will easi- 
 ly perceive, that persons careful of the greatest bene- 
 fit of prayer ought to have a great share in the form- 
 ing and composing their own devotion. 
 
 As to that part of their prayers which is always fix- 
 ed to one certain subject, in that they may use the 
 help of some forms composed by other persons ; but 
 in that part of their prayers which they are always to 
 suit to the presenl state of their life, and the present 
 state of their heart, there they must let the sense 
 of their ovrn condition help them to such kinds of pe- 
 tition, thanksgiving, or resignation, as their present 
 state more especially requires. 
 
 Happy are tliey who have this business and employ- 
 ment upon their hands ! 
 
 And now, if people of leisure, whether men or wo- 
 men, who are so much at a loss how to dispose of their 
 lime, who are forced into poor contrivances, idle vi- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 179 
 
 sits, and ridiculous diversions, merely to get rid of 
 hours that hang heavily upon their hands; if such 
 were to appoint some certain spaces of their time to 
 the study of devotion, searching after all the means 
 and helps to attain a devout spirit ; if they were to 
 collect the best forms of devotion, to use themselves 
 to transcribe the finest passages of scripture prayers ; 
 if they were to collect the devotions, confessions, peti- 
 tions, praises, resignations, and thanksgivings, which 
 are scattered up and down in the psalms, and range 
 them under proper h^ads, as so much proper fuel for 
 the flame of their own devotion : If their minds were 
 often thus employed, sometimes meditating upon 
 them, sometimes getting them by heart, and making 
 them as habitual as their own thoughts, how fervently 
 would they pray who came thus prepared to prayer ! 
 
 And how much better would it be to make this be- 
 nefit of leisure time than to be dully and idly lost in 
 the poor impertinences of a playing, visiting, wander- 
 ing life ! 
 
 How much better would it be to be thus furnished 
 with hymns and anthems of the saints, and teach their 
 souls to ascend to God, than to corrupt, bewilder, and 
 confound their hearts with the wild fancies, the lustful 
 thoughts of lewd poets ! 
 
 Now, though people of leisure seem called more 
 particularly to this study of devotion, yet persons of 
 much business or labour must not think themselves ex- 
 cused from this or some better method of improving 
 their devotion. 
 
 For the greater their business is, the more need 
 tliey have of some such method as this to prevent its 
 power over their hearts, to secure them from sinking 
 into worldly tempers, and preserve a sense and taste of 
 heavenly tilings in their minds. And a little time, re- 
 gularly and constantly employed to any one use or 
 end, will do great things, and produce mighty effects. 
 
 And it is for want of considering devotion in this 
 light, as something that is to be nursed and cherished 
 
 n2 
 
180 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 with care, as something- that is to be made part of our 
 business, that is to be improved with care and contri- 
 vance, by art and method, and a diligent use of the 
 best helps ; it is for want of considering- it in this light 
 that so many people are so little benefited by it, and 
 live and die strang-ers to that spirit of devotion, which, 
 by a prudent use of proper means, they might have 
 enjoyed in a hig-h degree. 
 
 For, though the spirit of devotion is the g-ift of 
 God, and not attainable by any mere power of our 
 own, yet it is mostly g-iven, and never withheld, from 
 those who, by a wise and diligent use of proper means, 
 prepare themselves for the reception of it. 
 
 And it is amazing to see how eagerly men employ 
 their parts, their sag-acity, time, study, application, 
 and exercise ; how all helps are called to their assist- 
 ance when any thing- is intended and desired in world- 
 ly matters; and how dull, negligent, and unimproved 
 they are, how little they use their parts, sagacity, and 
 abilities, to raise and increase their devotion ! 
 
 Mundanus is a man of excellent parts, and clear ap- 
 prehension. He is well advanced in age, and has 
 made a great figure in business. Every part of trade 
 and business that has fallen in his way has had some 
 improvement from him ; and he is always contriving to 
 carry every method of doing any thing well to its great- 
 est height. Mundanus aims at the greatest per- 
 fection in every thing. The soundness and strength 
 of his mind, and his just way of thinking upon things, 
 make him intent upon removing all imperfections. 
 
 He can tell you all the defects and errors in all the 
 common methods, whether of trade, building, or im- 
 proving land or manufactures. The clearness and 
 strength of his understanding, which he is constantly 
 improving- by continual exercise in these matters, by 
 often digesting- his thoughts in writing, and trying 
 every thing every way, has rendered him a great mas- 
 ter of most concerns hi human life. 
 
 Thus has Mundanus gone on, increasing his know- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 181 
 
 ledge and judgment as fast as his years came upon 
 him. 
 
 The only thing which has not fallen under his im* 
 provement, nor received any benefit from his judicious 
 mind, is his devotion. This is just in the same poor 
 state it was when he was only six years of age, and the 
 old man prays now in that little form of words which 
 his mother used to hear him repeat night and morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Thus Mundanus, who hardly ever saw the poorest 
 utensils, or ever took the meanest trifle into his hand, 
 without considering how it might be made or used to 
 better advantage, has gone on all his life long praying 
 in the same manner as when he was a child, without 
 ever considering how much better or oftener he might 
 pray, without considering how improvable the spirit 
 of devotion is, how many helps a wise and reasonable 
 man may call to his assistance, and how necessary it 
 is that our prayers should be enlarged, varied, and 
 suited to the particular state and condition of our 
 lives. 
 
 If Mundanus sees a book of devotion, he passes it 
 by as he does a spelling-book, because he remembers 
 that he learned to pray so many years ago under his 
 mother, when he learned to spell. 
 
 Now, how poor and pitiable is the conduct of this 
 man of sense, who has so much judgment and under- 
 standing in every thing but that which is the whole 
 wisdom of man ! 
 
 And how miserably do many people more or less 
 imitate this conduct! 
 
 All which seems to be owing to a strange infatuated 
 state of negligence, w hich keeps people from consi- 
 dering what devotion is. For if they did but once 
 proceed so far as to reflect about it, or ask themselves 
 any questions concerning it, they would soon see that 
 the spirit of devotion was like any other sense or un- 
 derstanding, that is only to be improved by study, 
 care, application, and the use of such means and helps 
 
 n3 
 
183 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 as are necessary to make a man a proficient in any art 
 or science. 
 
 Classicus is a man of learning', and well versed in 
 all the best authors of antiquity. He has read them 
 so much that he has entered into their spirit, and can 
 very ingeniously imitate the manner of any of them. 
 All their thoughts are his thoughts, and he can ex- 
 press himself in their language. He is so great a 
 friend to this improvement of the mind, that if he 
 lights on a young' scholar, he never fails to advise him 
 concerning his studies. 
 
 Classicus tells his young' man, he must not think 
 that he has done enough when he has only learned 
 languages, but that he must be daily conversant with 
 the best authors, read them again and again, catch 
 their spirit by living* with them, and that there is no 
 other way of becoming- like them, or of making him- 
 self a man of taste and judgment. 
 
 How wise mig-ht Classicus have been, and how 
 much good might he have done in the world, if he had 
 but thought as justly of devotion as he does of learn- 
 ing! 
 
 He never, indeed, says anything shockmg or offen- 
 sive about devotion, because he never thinks or talks 
 about it. It suffers nothing- from him but neglect and 
 disregard. 
 
 The two Testaments would not have had so much 
 as a place amongst his book??, but that they are both 
 to be had in Greek. 
 
 Classicus thinks that he sufficiently shews his regard 
 for the holy scriptures, when he tells you that he has 
 no other book of piety besides them. 
 
 It is very well, Classicus, that you prefer the Bible 
 to all other books of piety ; he has no judgment that 
 is not thus far of your opinion. 
 
 But if you will have no other book of piety besides 
 the Bible, because it is the best, how comes it, Classi- 
 cus, that you do not content yourself with one of the 
 best books amongst the Greeks and Romans ? How 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 183 
 
 comes it that you are so greedy and eager after all of 
 them ? How comes it that you think the knowledge 
 of one is a necessary help to the knowledge of tlie 
 other ? How comes it that you are so earnest, so la- 
 borious, so expensive of time and your money, to re- 
 store broken periods and scraps of the ancients? 
 
 How comes it that you read so many commentators 
 upon Cicero, Horace, and Homer, and not one upon 
 the gospel ? How comes it that your love of Cicero 
 and Ovid makes you love to read an author who 
 writes like them ; and yet your esteem for the gospel 
 gives you no desire, nay, prevents your reading such 
 books as breathe the very spirit of the gospel? 
 
 How comes it that you tell your young scholar he 
 must not content himself with barely understanding 
 his authors, but must be continually reading them all, 
 as the only means of entering into their spirit^ and 
 forming his own judgment according to them? 
 
 Why, then, must the Bible lie alone in your study? 
 Is not the spirit of the saints, the piety of the holy fol- 
 lowers of Jesus Christ, as good and necessary a means 
 of entering into the spirit and taste of the gospel as 
 the reading of the ancients is of entering into the 
 spirit of antiquity ? 
 
 Is the spirit of poetry only to be got by much read- 
 ing of poets and orators ? And is not the spirit of de- 
 votion to be got in the same way by a frequent reading 
 the holy thoughts and pious strains of devout men? 
 
 Is your young poet to search after every line that 
 may give new wings to his fancy, or direct his imagin- 
 ation? And is it not as reasonable for him who de- 
 sires to improve in the divine life, that is, in the love 
 of heavenly things, to search after every strain of de- 
 votion that may move, kindle, and inflame the holy 
 ardour of his soul? 
 
 Do you advise your orator to translate the best ora- 
 tions, to commit much of them to memory, to be fre- 
 quently exercising his talent in this manner, that habits 
 of thinking and speaking justly may be formed in hi* 
 
 N 4 
 
184 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 mind? And is there not the same benefit and advan- 
 tage to be made by books of devotion ? Should not a 
 man use them in the same way, that habits of devotion, 
 and aspiring" to God in holy thoughts^ may be well 
 formed in his^ soul ? 
 
 Now, the reason why Classicus does not think and 
 judge thus reasonably of devotion, is owing to his 
 never thinking of it in any other manner than as the 
 repeating a form of words. It never in his life enter- 
 ed into his head to think of devotion as a state of the 
 heart, as an improveable talent of the mind, as a tem- 
 per that is to grow and increase like our reason and 
 judgment, and to be formed in us by such a regular 
 diligent use of proper means, as are necessary to form 
 any other wise habit of mind. 
 
 And it is for want of this that he has been content 
 all his life with the bare letter of prayer, and eagerly 
 bent upon entering into the spirit of heathen poets 
 and orators. 
 
 And it is much to be lamented that numbers of 
 scholars are more or less chargeable with this exces- 
 sive folly ; so negligent of improving their devotion, 
 and so desirous of other poor accomplishments, as if 
 they thought it a nobler talent to be able to write an 
 epigram in the turn of Martial, than to live, and 
 think, and pray to God, in the spirit of St. Austin. 
 
 And yet to correct this temper, and fill a man Avith a 
 quite contrary spirit, there seems to be no more re- 
 quired than the bare belief of the truth of Christianity. 
 
 And if you was to ask Mundanus and Classicus, or 
 any man of business or learning, whether piety is not 
 the highest perfection of man, or devotion the great- 
 est attainment in the world, they must both be forced 
 to answer in the affirmative, or else give up the truth 
 of the gospel. 
 
 For, to set any accomplishment against devotion, or 
 to think an)- thing or all things in the world bears any 
 proportion to its excellency, is the same absurdity in 
 a Christian, as it would be in a philosopher to prefer a 
 
DEtOUT AN© ttOLV tlFE. 195 
 
 meal's meat to the greatest improvement in know- 
 ledge. 
 
 For, as philosophy professes purely the search and 
 inquiry after knowledge, so Christianity supposes, in- 
 tends, desires, and aims at nothing else but the raising 
 fallen man to a divine life, to such habits of holiness, 
 such degrees of devotion, as may fit him to enter 
 amongst the holy inhabitants of the kingdom of 
 heaven. 
 
 He that does not believe this of Christianity may be 
 reckoned an infidel ; and he that believes thus much 
 has faith enough to give him a right judgment of the 
 value of things, to support him in a sound mind, and 
 enable him to conquer all the temptations which the 
 workl sliiill lay in his way. 
 
 To conclude this chapter. Devotion is nothing else 
 but right apprehensions and right affections towards 
 God. 
 
 AH practices, therefore, that heighten and improve 
 our true apprehensions of God, all ways of life that 
 tend to nourish, raise, and fix our affections upon him, 
 are to be reckoned so many helps and means to fill us 
 with devotion. 
 
 As prayer is the proper fuel of this holy flame, so 
 we must use all our care and contrivance to give 
 prayer its full power ; as by alms, self-denial, frequent 
 retirements, and holy readings, composing forms for 
 ourselves, or using the best we can get, adding length 
 of time, and observing hours of prayer, changing, im- 
 proving, and suiting our devotions to the condition of 
 our lives, and the state of our hearts. 
 
 Those who have most leisure seem more especially 
 called to a more eminent observance of these holy 
 rules of a devout life. And they who, by the necessi- 
 ty of their state, and not through their own choice, 
 have but little time to employ thus, must make the 
 best use of that little they have. 
 
 For this is the certain way of making devotion pro- 
 duce a devout life. 
 
186 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Of chanting or singing of Psalms in our private De- 
 votions. Of the excellency and benefit of this kind 
 of Devotion. Of the great effect it hath upon our 
 hearts. Of the means of performing it in the best 
 manner. 
 
 YOU have seen in the foregoing chapter what 
 means and methods you are to use to raise and im- 
 prove your devotion ; how early you are to beg-in 
 your prayers^ and what is to be the subject of your 
 first devotions in the morning. 
 
 There is one thing- still remaining- that you must 
 be required to observe^ not only as fit and proper to 
 be done, but as such as cannot be neglected, without 
 great prejudice to your devotions; and thai is, to be- 
 gin all your prayers with a psalm. 
 
 This is so right, is so beneficial to devotion, has so 
 much effect upon our hearts_, that it may be insisted 
 upon as a common rule for all persons. 
 
 I do not mean that you should read over a psalm, 
 but that you should chant or sing one of those psalms, 
 which we commonly call the reading- psalms ; for 
 singing is as much the proper use of psalm, as devout 
 supplication is the proper use of a form of prayer; 
 and a psalm only read is very much like a prayer that 
 is only looked over. 
 
 Now, the method of chanting a psalm, such as is 
 used in the colleges, in the universities, and in some 
 churches, is such as all persons are capable of. The 
 change of the voice in thus chanting of a psalm is so 
 small and natural, that every body is able to do it, and 
 yet sufficient to raise and keep up the gladness of our 
 heart. 
 
 You are, therefore, to consider this chanting of a 
 psalm as a necessary beginning of your devotions^ as 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 187 
 
 something that is to awaken all that is good and holy 
 within you, that is to call your spirits to their pro- 
 per duty, to set you in your best posture towards hea- 
 ven, and tune all the powers of your soul to worship 
 and adoration. 
 
 For there is nothing that so clears a way for your 
 prayers, nothing that so disperses dulness of heart, 
 nothing that so purifies the soul from poor and little 
 passions, nothing that so opens heaven, or carries 
 your heart so near it, as these songs of praise. 
 
 They create a sense and delight in God, they awak- 
 en holy desires, they teach you how to ask, and they 
 prevail with God to give. They kindle an holy flame, 
 they turn your heart into an altar, your prayers into 
 incense, and carry them as a sweet-smelling savour to 
 the throne of grace. 
 
 The difference between singing and reading a 
 psalm will easily be understood, if you consider the 
 difference between reading and singing a common 
 song that you like. Whilst you only read it, you only 
 like it, and that is all; but soon as you sing it, then 
 you enjoy it, you feel the delight of it, it has got hold 
 of you, your passions keep pace with it, and you feel 
 the same spirit within you that there seems to be in 
 the words. 
 
 If you was to tell a person that has sung a song that 
 he need not sing it, that it was sufficient to peruse it, 
 he would wonder what you mean, and would think 
 you as absurd as if you was to tell him that he should 
 only look at his food, to see whether it was good, but 
 need not eat it ; for a song of praise not sung is very 
 like any other good thing not made use of. 
 
 You will perhaps say, that singing is a particular ta- 
 lent that belongs only to particular people, and that 
 you have neither voice nor ear to make any music. 
 
 If you had said that singing is a general talent, and 
 that people dilfcr in that as they do in all other things, 
 you had said something much truer. 
 
 For, how vastly do people difler in the talent of 
 
188 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 thinking, which is not only common to all men, but 
 seems to be the very essence of human nature ! How 
 readily do some people reason upon every thing, and 
 how hardly do others reason upon any thing ! How 
 clearly do some people discourse upon the most abtruse 
 matters, and how confusedly do others talk upon the 
 plainest subjects ? 
 
 Yet no one desires to be excused from thought, or 
 reason, or discourse, because he has not these talents 
 as some people have them. But it is fully as just for 
 a person to think himself excused from thinking upon 
 God, from reasoning about his duty to him, or dis- 
 coursing about the means of salvation, because he has 
 not these talents in any fine degree ; this is fully as 
 just as for a person to think himself excused from sing- 
 ing the praises of God, because he has not a fine ear 
 or a musical voice. 
 
 For as it is speaking, and not graceful speaking, 
 that is a required part of prayer, as it is bowing, and 
 not genteel bowing, that is a proper part of adoration^ 
 so it is singing, and not ajtful fine singing, that is a re- 
 quired way of praising God. 
 
 If a person was to forbear praying because he had 
 an odd tone in his voice, he would have as good an ex- 
 cuse as he has that forbears from singing psalms, be- 
 cause he has but little management of his voice ; and 
 as a man's speaking his prayers, though in an odd tone, 
 may yet sufficiently answer all the ends of his own de- 
 votion, so a man's singing of a psalm, though not in a 
 very musical way, may yet sufficiently answer all the 
 ends of rejoicing in, and praising God. 
 
 Secondly/, This objection might be of some weight 
 if you was desired to sing to entertain other people, 
 but is not to be admitted in the present case, where 
 you are only required to sing the praises of God as a 
 part of your own private devotion. 
 
 If a person that has a very ill voice, and a bad way 
 of speaking, was desired to be the mouth of a congre- 
 gation, it would be a very proper excuse for him to say 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 189 
 
 that he had not a voice^ or a way of speaking, that 
 was proper for prayer ; but he would be very absurd if, 
 for the same reason, he should neglect his own private 
 devotions. 
 
 Now, this is exactly the case of singing psalms ; you 
 may not have the talent of singing, so as to be able to 
 entertain other people, and, therefore, it is reasonable 
 to excuse yourself from it ; but if, for that reason, you 
 should excuse yourself from this way of praising God, 
 you would be gudty of a great absurdity ; because 
 singing is no more required for the music that is made 
 by it, than prayer is required for the fine words that it 
 contains, but as it is the natural and proper expres- 
 sion of a heart rejoicing in God. 
 
 Our blessed Saviour and his apostles sung an hymn, 
 but it may reasonably be supposed that they rather re- 
 joiced in God than made fine music. 
 
 Do but so live, that your heart may truly rejoice in 
 God, that it may feel itself aft'ected with the praises of 
 God, and then you Avill find that this state of your 
 heart will neither want a voice nor ear to find a tune 
 for a psalm. Every one at some time or other finds 
 himself able to sing in some degree ; there are some 
 times and occasions of joy that make all people ready 
 to express their sense of it in some sort of harmony. 
 The joy that they feel forces them to let their voices 
 have a part in it. 
 
 He, therefore, that saith he wants a voice or an ear 
 to sing a psalm, mistakes the case ; he wants that spi- 
 rit that really rejoices in God; the dulness is in his 
 heart, and not in his ear ; and when his heart feels a 
 true joy in God, when it has a full relish of what is ex- 
 pressed in the psalms, he will find it very pleasant to 
 make the motions of his voice express the motions of 
 his heart. 
 
 Singing, indeed, as it is improved into an art, as it 
 signifies the running of the voice through such or such 
 a compass of notes, and keeping time with a studied 
 variety of changes, is not natural, nor the ett'ect of any 
 
190 A b'ERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 natural state of the mind; so^ in this sense_, it is not 
 common to all people^ any more that those antic and 
 invented motions^ which make fine dancing-, are com- 
 mon to all people. 
 
 But singing-j as it signifies a motion of the voice suit- 
 able to the motions of the heart, and the changing of 
 its tone according to the meaning of the words which 
 we utter, is as natural and common to all men as it is 
 to speak high when they threaten in anger, or to 
 speak low when they are dejected and ask for a pardon. 
 
 All men, therefore, are singers, in the same man- 
 ner as all men think, speak, laugh, and lament. For 
 singing is no more an invention than grief or joy are 
 inventions. 
 
 Every state of the heart naturally puts the body in- 
 to some state that is suitable to it, and is proper to 
 show it to other people. If a man is angry or dis- 
 dainful, no one need instruct him how to express 
 these passions by the tone of his voice ; the state of 
 his heart disposes him to a proper use of his voice. 
 
 If there are but few singers of divine songs, if peo- 
 ple want to be exhorted to this part of devotion, it is 
 because there are but few whose hearts are raised to 
 that height of piety, as to feel any emotions of joy and 
 delight in the praises of God. 
 
 Imagine to yourself that you had been with Moses 
 when he was led through the Red sea, that you had 
 seen the waters divide themselves, and stand on a heap 
 on both sides, that you had seen them held up till you 
 had passed through, then let fall upon your enemies ; 
 do you think that you should then have wanted a voice 
 or an ear to have sung with Moses, The Lord is my 
 strength and my song, and he is become my salva- 
 tion, ^c. I know your own heart tells you that all 
 people must have been singers upon such an occasion. 
 Let this, therefore, teach you that it is the heart that 
 tunes a voice to sing the praises of God ; and that if you 
 cannot sing these same words now with joy, it is be- 
 cause you are not so affected with the salvation of the 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 191 
 
 world by Jesus Christ as the Jews were, or you yourself 
 would have been with their deliverance at the Red sea. 
 
 That it is the state of the heart that disposes us to 
 rejoice in any particular kind of singing', may be easily 
 proved from a variety of observations upon human 
 nature. An old debaucliee may, according to the 
 lanffuasre of the world, have neither voice nor car, if 
 you only sing a psalm or a song ni praise ol virtue to 
 him ; but yet if in some easy tune you sing something- 
 that celebrates his former debauches, he will then, 
 though he has no teeth in his head, show you that he 
 has both a voice and an ear to join in such music. 
 You then awaken his heart, and he as naturally sings 
 to such words as he laug-hs when he is pleased. And 
 this will be the case in every souij that touches the 
 heart ; if you celebrate the ruling passion of any man's 
 heart, you put his voice in tune to join with you. 
 
 Thus, if you can find a man whose ruling' temper is 
 devotion, whose heart is full of God, his voice will re- 
 rejoice in those songs of praise, which glorify that 
 God that is the joy of his heart, though he has neither 
 voice nor ear for other music. Would you, therefore, 
 delightfully perform this part of devotion, it is not so 
 necessary to learn a tune, or practise upon notes, as to 
 prepare your heart; for, as our blessed Lord saith, 
 out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, &c. 
 so it is equally true, that out of the heart proceed holy 
 joys, thanksgiving, and praise. If you can once say 
 with David, Mj/ heart is fixed ; O God, my heart is 
 fixed, it will be very easy and natural to add, as he 
 did, / icill sing, and give praise, Sgc. 
 
 Secondly, Let us now consider another reason for 
 this kind of devotion. As sing'ing is a natural effect 
 of joy in the heart, so it has also a natural power of 
 rendering the heart joyful. 
 
 The soul and body are so united that they have 
 each of them power over one another in their actions. 
 Certain thoughts and sentiments in the soul produce 
 such and such motions or actions in the body ; and. 
 
19^ A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 on the other hand, certain motions and actions of the 
 body have the same power of raising such and such 
 thoughts and sentiments in the soul. So that as sing- 
 ing is the natural effect of joy in the mind, so it is as 
 truly a natural cause of raising joy in the mind. 
 
 As devotion of the heart naturally breaks out into 
 outward acts of prayer, so outward acts of prayer are 
 natural means of raising the devotion of the lieart. 
 
 it is thus in all states and tempers of the mind; as 
 the inward state of the mind produces outward actions 
 suitable to it, so those outward actions have the like pow- 
 er of raising an inward state of mind suitable to them. 
 
 As anger produces angry words, so angry words in- 
 crease anger. 
 
 So that if we bai'ely consider human nature, we 
 shall find that singing or chanting the psalms is as pro- 
 per and necessary to raise our hearts to a delight in 
 God, as prayer is proper and necessary to excite in us 
 the spirit of devotion. Every reason for one is in all 
 respects as strong a reason for the other. 
 
 If, therefore, you would know the reason and necessi- 
 ty of singing psahns, you must consider the reason and 
 necessity of praising and rejoicing- in God ; because 
 singing of psalms is as much the true exercise and 
 support of this spirit of thanksgiving', as prayer is the 
 true exercise and support of the spirit of devotion ; 
 and you may as well think that you can be devout as 
 you ouglit, without the use of prayer, as that you can 
 rejoice in God as you ought, without the practise of 
 singing psalms ; because this singing is as much the 
 natural language of praise and thanksgiving, as pray- 
 er is the natural language of devotion. 
 
 The union of soul and body is not a mixture of 
 their substances, as we see bodies united and mixed 
 together, but consists solely in the mutual power that 
 they have of acting upon one another. 
 
 If two persons were jn such a state of dependence 
 upon one another, that neither of them could act, or 
 move, or think, or feek or sutfer, or desire any things, 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE, 193 
 
 ^vitliout putting the other into the same condition^ one 
 might properly say, that tliey were in a strict union, 
 although their substances were not united together. 
 
 Now, this is the union of the soul and body ; the 
 substance of the one cannot be mixed or united with 
 the other, but they are held together in such a state 
 of union, that all the actions and sufferings of the one 
 are at the same time the actions and sufferings of the 
 other. The soul has no thought or passion but the 
 body is concerned in it ; the body has no action or 
 motion but what in some degree aifects the soul. 
 
 Now, as it is the sole will of God that is the reason 
 and cause of all the powers and effects which you 
 see in the world; as the sun gives light and heat, not 
 because it has any natural power of so doing, as it is 
 fixed in a certain place, and other bodies move about 
 it, not because it is in the nature of the sun to stand still, 
 and in the nature of other bodies to move about it, 
 but merely because it is the will of God that they 
 should be in such a state. As the eye is the organ or 
 instrument of seeing, not because the skins, and coats, 
 and humours of the eye have a natural power of giving 
 sight ; as the ears are the organs or instruments of 
 hearing, not because the make of the ear has any na- 
 tural power over sounds, but merely because it is the 
 will of God, that seeing and hearing should be thus re- 
 ceived ; so in like manner it is the sole will of God, 
 and not the nature of a human soul or body, that is 
 the cause of this union betwixt the soul and the body. 
 
 Now, if you rightly apprehend this short account of 
 the union of the soul and body, you will see a great 
 deal into the reason and necessity of all the outward 
 parts of religion. 
 
 This union of our souls and bodies is the reason 
 both why we have so little and so much power ovei* 
 ourselves. It is owing to this union that we have so 
 little power over our souls ; for as we cannot prevent 
 the effects of external objects upon our bodies, as we 
 cannot command outward causes, so we cannot al- 
 
 o 
 
194 A iSERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ways command the inward state of our minds ; be- 
 cause^ as outward ol)jects act upon our bodies^ without 
 our leave, so our bodies act upon our minds by the 
 laws of the union of the sou! and body ; and thus you 
 see it is owing to this union that we have so Uttle 
 power over ourselves. 
 
 On the other hand, it is owing to this union that we 
 have so much power over ourselves. For as our souls 
 in a great measure depend upon our bodies, and as 
 we have great power over our bodies, as we com- 
 mand our outward actions, and oblige ourselves to 
 such habits of life as naturally produce habits in the 
 soul, as we can mortify our bodies, and remove our- 
 selves from objects that inflame our passions, so we have 
 a great power over the inward state of our souls. 
 Again, as we are masters of our outward actions, as we 
 can force ourselves to outward acts of reading, pray- 
 ing, singing, and the like ; and as all these bodily ac- 
 tions have an effect upon the soul, as they naturally 
 tend to form such and such tempers in our hearts ; 
 so, by being masters of these outward bodily actions, 
 we have great power over the inward state of the 
 heart. 
 
 And thus it is owing to this union that we have so 
 much power over ourselves. 
 
 Now, from this you may also see the necessity and 
 benefit of singing psalms, and of all the outward acts 
 of religion ; for if the body has so much power over 
 the soul, it is certain that all such bodily actions as af- 
 fect the soul are of great weight in religion ; not as if 
 there was any true worship or piety in the actions 
 themselves, but because they are proper to raise and 
 support that spirit, which is the true worship of God. 
 
 Though, therefore, the seat of religion is in the 
 heart, yet since our bodies have a power over our 
 hearts, since outward actions both proceed from, and 
 enter into the heart, it is plain, that outward actions 
 have a great power over that religion which is seated 
 in the heart. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 195 
 
 ^Ve are, therefore, as well to use outward helps, as 
 inward meditation, iu order to beget and lix habits of 
 piety in our hearts. 
 
 Tills doctrine may be easily carried too far; for by 
 calling in too many outward means of worship, it may 
 degenerate into superstition ; as on the otlier hand, 
 some have fallen into the contrary extreme. For be- 
 cause religion is justly placed in the heart, some have 
 pursued that notion so far, as to renounce vocal pray- 
 er, and other outward acts of worship, and have re- 
 solved all religion into a quietism, or mystic inter- 
 courses with God in silence. 
 
 Now these are two extremes equally prejudicial to 
 true religion ; and ought not to be objected either 
 against internal or external worship. As you ought 
 not to say, that I encourage that quietism, by placing 
 religion in the heart ; so neither ought you to say, that 
 I encourage superstition, by shewing the benefit of 
 outward acts of worship. 
 
 For since we are neither all soul, nor all body ; 
 seeing none of our actions are either separately of the 
 soul, or separately of the body ; seeing we have no 
 habits but such as are produced by the actions both of 
 our souls and bodies ; it is certain, that if we would 
 arrive at habits of devotion, or delight in God, we must 
 not only meditate and exercise our souls, but we must 
 practise and exercise our bodies to all such outward 
 actions, as are conformable to these inward tempers. 
 
 If we would truly prostrate our souls before God, 
 we must use our bodies to postures of lowliness. If 
 we desire true fervour of devotion, we must make 
 prayer the frequent labour of our lips. If we would 
 banish all pride and passion from our hearts, we must 
 force ourselves to all outward actions of patience and 
 meekness. If we would feel motions of joy and de- 
 light in God ; we must practise all the outward acts of 
 it, and make our voices call upon our hearts. 
 
 Now, therefore, you may plainly see the reason and 
 necessity of singing of psalms ; it is because outward 
 "^ o2 
 
196 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 actions are necessary to support inward tempers ; and 
 therefore^ the outward act of joy is necessary to raise 
 and support the inward joy of the mind. 
 
 If any people were to leave oft' prayer^ because they 
 seldom find the motions of their hearts answering the 
 words winch they speak, you would charge them with 
 great absurdity. You would tliink it very reasonable^ 
 that they shall continue their prayers, and be strict in 
 observing all times of prayer, as the most likely means 
 ^of removing- the dulness and indevotion of their hearts. 
 
 Now this is very much the case as to singing" of 
 psalms, people often sing without finding any inward 
 joy suitable to the words vvhich they speak ; therefore, 
 they are careless of it, or wholly neglect it ; not con- 
 sidering* that they act as absurdly, as he tliat should 
 neglect prayer, because his heart was not enough af- 
 fected with it. For it is certain, that this singing is as 
 much the natural means of raising motions of joy in the 
 mind, as prayer is the natural means of raising devotion. 
 
 I have been the longer upon this head, because of 
 its g-reat importance to true religion. For there is no 
 state of mind so holy, so excellent, and so truly per- 
 fect, as that of thankfulness to God ; and consequent- 
 ly nothing is of more importance in religioij, than that 
 which exercises and improves this habit of mind. 
 
 A dull, uneasy, complaining spirit, vvhich is some- 
 times the spirit of those that seenj careful of religion, 
 is yet of all tempers the most contrary to religion, for 
 it disowns that God which it pretends to adore. For 
 he sufficiently disowns God, who does not adore him 
 as a Being* of infinite goodness. 
 
 If a man does not believe that all the world is as 
 God's family, where nothing happens by chance, but 
 all is guided and directed by the care and providence 
 of a being* that is -all love and goodness to all his crea- 
 tures ; if a man docs not believe this from his heart, he 
 cannot be said truly to believe in God. And yet he 
 that has this faith, hath faith enough to overcome the 
 worlds and always be thankful to God. For he that 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE, 197 
 
 believes that every thing happens to him for the best, 
 cannot possibly complain for the want of something- 
 that is better. 
 
 If, therefore^ you live in murmurings and com- 
 plaintSj accusing all the accidents of life^ it is not be- 
 cause you are a Avcak^ infirm creature^ but it is be- 
 cause you Avant the first principle of religion,, a right 
 belief in God. For as thankfulness is an express 
 acknowledgement of the goodness of God towards 
 yoUj so repinings and complaints are as plain accusa- 
 tions of God's want of goodness towards you. 
 
 On the other hand, would you know who is the 
 greatest saint in the world ? It is not he who prays 
 most, or fasts most ; it is not he who gives most alms, 
 or is most eminent for temperance, chastity, or justice ; 
 but it is he who is always thankful to God, who wills 
 every thing that God willeth, who receives every thing 
 as an instance of God's goodness, and has a heart al- 
 ways ready to praise God for it. 
 
 AH prayer and devotion, fasting and repentance, 
 meditation and retirement, all sacraments and ordi- 
 nances, are but so many means to render the soul thus 
 divine and conformable to the will of God, and to fill it 
 with thankfulness and praise for every thing that 
 comes from God. This is the perfection of all virtues ; 
 and all virtues that do not tend to it, or proceed from 
 it, are but so many false ornaments of a soul not con- 
 verted unto God. 
 
 You need not, therefore, now wonder, that I lay so 
 much stress upon singing a psalm at all your devotions, 
 since you see it is to form your spirit to such joy and 
 thankfulness to God, as is the highest perfection of a 
 divine and holy life. 
 
 If any one would tell you the shortest, surest way to 
 all happiness, and all perfection, he must tell you to 
 make it a rule to yourself, to thank and praise God 
 for every thing that happens to you. For it is cer- 
 tain, that whatever seeming calamity happens to you^ 
 if you thank and praise God for it, you turn it into a 
 
 o3 
 
198 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 blessing'. Could you, therefore, work miracles, you 
 could not do more for yourself, than by this thankful 
 spirit, for it heals with a word speaking-, and turns all 
 that it touches into happiness. 
 
 If, therefore, you would be so true to your eternal 
 interest, as to propose this thankfulness as the end of 
 all your religion ; if you would but settle it in your 
 mind, that this was the state that you w^as to aim at by 
 all your devotions ; you would then have something 
 plain and visible to walk by in all your actions^ you 
 would then easily see the effect of your virtues_, and 
 might safely judge of your improvement in piety. For 
 so far as you renounce all selfish tempers and motions 
 of your ov/n will, and seek for no other happiness^ but 
 ii> the thankful reception of every thing that happens 
 to you, so far you may be safely reckoned to have ad- 
 vanced in piety. 
 
 And although this be the highest temper that you 
 can aim at, though it be the noblest sacrifice that the 
 greatest saint can offer unto God, yet it is not tied to 
 any time, or place, or great occasion, but is always in 
 your power, and may be the exercise of every day. 
 For the common events of every day are sufficient to 
 discover and exercise this temper, and may plainly 
 shew you how far you are governed in all your ac- 
 tions by this thankful spirit. 
 
 And for this reason I exhort you to this method in 
 your devotion, that every day may be made a day of 
 thanksgiving, and that tlie spirit of murmur and dis- 
 content may be unable to enter into the heart, which 
 is so often employed in singing the praises of God. 
 
 It may perhaps after ail be objected, that although 
 the great benefit, and excellent effects of this prac- 
 tice, are very apparent, yet it seems not altogether so 
 fit for private devotions ; since it can hardly be per- 
 formed without making our devotions public to other 
 people, and seems also liable to the charge of sound- 
 ing a trumpet at our prayers. 
 
 It is therefore answered,, First, That great numbers 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 199 
 
 of people have it in their power to be as private as they 
 please; such persons, therefore,, are excluded from 
 this excuse, which, however it may be so to others, is 
 none to them. Therefore, let such take the benefit of 
 this excellent devotion. 
 
 Sccondlj/, Numbers of people are by the necessity 
 of their state, as servants, apprentices, prisoners, and 
 families in small houses, forced to be continually in the 
 presence or sight of somebody or other. 
 
 Now are such persons to neglect their prayers, be- 
 cause they cannot pray without being* seen ? Are they 
 not rather ojjliged to be more exact in them, that 
 others may not be witnesses of their neglect, and so 
 corrupted by their example ? 
 
 Now what is here said of devotion, may surely be 
 said of this chanting a psalm, which is only a part 
 of devotion. 
 
 The rule is this ; Don't pray that you may be seen 
 of men, but if your confinement obliges you to be al- 
 ways in the sight of others, be more afraid of being- 
 seen to neglect, than of being seen to have recourse 
 to prayer. 
 
 Thirdli/, The state of the matter is this. Either 
 people can use such privacy in this practise, as to have 
 no hearers, or they cannot. If tliey can, then this ob- 
 jection vanishes as to them : and if they cannot, they 
 should consider their confinement, and the necessities 
 of their state, as the confinement of a prison ; and then 
 they have an excellent pattern to follow, they may 
 imitate St. Paul and Silas, who .sang praises to God in 
 prison, though we are expressly told, that the prison- 
 ers heard them. They, therefore, did not refrain 
 from this kind of devotion for fear of being heard by 
 others. If, therefore, any one is in the same neces- 
 sity, either in prison or out of prison, what can he do 
 better, tlian to follow this example? 
 
 I cannot pass by tliis place of scripture, without de- 
 siring the pious reader to observe how strongly Ave 
 are here called upon to this use of psalms, and what a 
 
 o 4 
 
200 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 mighty recommendation of it, the practise of these 
 two great saints is. 
 
 In this their great distress in prison, in chains, un- 
 der the soreness of stripes, in the horror of night, the 
 divinest, hohest thing they could do, was to sing 
 praises unto God. 
 
 And shall we, after this, need any exhortation to 
 this holy practise? Shall we let the day pass without 
 such thanksgivings as they would not neglect in the 
 night? Shall a prison, chains, and darkness, furnish 
 them with songs of praise, and shall we have no sing- 
 ings in our closets ? 
 
 Further, let it also be observed, that while these two 
 holy men were thus employed in the most exalted part 
 of devotion, doing that on earth, which angels do in 
 heaven, that the foundations of the prison were shak- 
 en, all the doors were opened, and every one's hands 
 were loosed. Acts xvi. 26. 
 
 And shall we now ask for motives to this divine 
 exercise, when, instead of arguments, we have here 
 such miracles to convince us of this mighty power 
 with God? 
 
 Could God by a voice from heaven more expressly 
 call us to these songs of praise, than by thus showing 
 us, how he hears, delivers, and rewards those that use 
 them ? 
 
 But this by the wa}^ I now return to the objection 
 in hand ; and answer. Fourthly, That the privacy of 
 our prayers, is not destroyed by our having, but by dur 
 seeking witnesses of them. 
 
 If, therefore, nobody hears you but those you can- 
 not separate yourself from, you are as much in secret, 
 and your Father who seeth in secret, will as truly re- 
 ward your secresy, as if you was seen by him alone. 
 
 Fifthly, Private prayer, as it is opposed to prayer in 
 public, does not suppose that no one is to have any 
 witness of it. For husbands and wives, brothers and 
 sisters, parents and children, masters and servants, tu- 
 tors and pupils, arc to be witnesses to one another of 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 201 
 
 such devotion, as may truly and properly be called 
 private. It is far from being- a duty to conceal such 
 devotion from such near relations. 
 
 In all these cases, therefore, where such relktions 
 sometimes pray tog'ether in private, and sometimes 
 apart by themselves, the chanting of a psalm can have 
 nothing objected against it. 
 
 Our blessed Lord commands us, when we fast, to 
 anoint our heads and wash our faces, that we appear 
 not unto men to fast, but unto our Father which is in 
 secret. 
 
 But this only means, that we must not make public 
 ostentation to the world of our fasting. 
 
 For if no one was to fast in private, or could be 
 said to fast in private, but he that had no witnesses of 
 it, no one could keep a private fast, but he that lived 
 by himself: For every family must know who fasts 
 in it. Therefore the privacy of fasting does not sup- 
 pose such a privacy, as excludes every body from 
 knowing it, but such a privacy as does not seek to be. 
 known abroad. 
 
 Cornelius, the devout centurion, of whom the scrip- 
 tures saith, that he gave much, and prayed to God 
 alway, saith unto St. Peter, Four days ago, I icas 
 fasting until this hour, Acts x. 2. 
 
 Now that this fasting was sufficiently private and 
 acceptable to God, appears from the vision of an an- 
 gel, with which the holy man was blessed at that time. 
 But that it was not so private, as to be entirely un- 
 known to others, appears, as from the relation of it 
 here, so, from what is said in another place, that he 
 called tioo of his household servants, and a devout 
 soldier of them that waited upon him continually . So 
 that Cornelius's fasting was so far from being un- 
 known to his family, that the soldiers and they of his 
 household were made devout themselves, by continu- 
 ally waiting upon him, that is, by seeing and partak- 
 ing of his good works. 
 
 As therefore the privacy or excellency of fasting is 
 
202 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 not destroyed by being known to some particular per- 
 sonSj neither would the privacy or excellency of your 
 devotions be hurt^ though by chanting- a psalm you 
 should be heard by some of your family. 
 
 The whole of the matter is this. Great part of the 
 world can be as private as they please^ therefore let 
 them use this excellent devotion between God and 
 themselves. 
 
 Another great part of the world must and ought to 
 have witnesses of several of their devotions ; let them 
 therefore not neglect the use of a psalm at such times 
 as it ought to be known to those with whom they live, 
 that they do not neglect their prayers. For surely, 
 there can be no harm in being known to be singing a 
 psalm, at such times as it ought to be known that you 
 are at your prayers. 
 
 And if at other times you desire to be in such secre- 
 cy at your devotions, as to have nobody suspect it, and 
 for that reason forbear your psalm ; I have nothing to 
 object against it ; provided, that at the known hours 
 of prayer, you never omit this practice. 
 
 For who would not be often doing that in the day, 
 which St. Paul and Silas would not neglect in the 
 middle of the night? And if, when you are thus sing- 
 ing, it should come into your head how the prison 
 shaked, and the doors opened, when St, Paul sang, it 
 would do your devotion no harm. 
 
 Lastly, Seeing our imaginations have great power 
 over our hearts, and can mightily affect us with their 
 representations, it would be of great use to you, if at 
 the beginning of your devotions, you was to imagine 
 to yourself some such representations, as might heat 
 and warm your heart into a temper suitable to those 
 prayers that you are then about to offer unto God. 
 
 As thus ; before you begin your psalm of praise and 
 rejoicing in God, make this use of your imagination. 
 
 Be still, and imagine to yourself, that you saw the 
 heavens open, and the glorious choir of Cherubims 
 and Seraphims about the throne of God. Imagine 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. S03 
 
 that you hear the music of those angelic voices that 
 cease not day and night to sing the glories of him that 
 isj and was^ and is to come. 
 
 Help your imaginations with such passages of scrip- 
 ture as these. Rev. vii. 9. " I beheld, and lo, in hea- 
 ven a great multitude which no man could number, of 
 all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, 
 standing before the throne, and before the Lamb, 
 clothed with Avhite robes, and palms in their hands. 
 And they cried with a loud voice. Salvation to our God 
 which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb. 
 
 And all the angels stood round about the throne, 
 and fell before the throne on their faces, and wor- 
 shipped God, saying. Amen : Blessing, and glory, and 
 power, and strength, be unto God, for ever and ever. 
 Amen." 
 
 Think upon this, till your imagination has carried 
 you above the clouds, till it has placed you amongst 
 those heavenly beings, and made you long to bear a 
 part in their eternal music. 
 
 If you will but use yourself to this method, and let 
 your imagination dwell among such representations as 
 these, you will soon find it an excellent means of rais- 
 ing the spirit of devotion within you. 
 
 Always therefore begin your psalm or song of praise 
 with these imaginations ; and at every verse of it ima- 
 gine yourself amongst those heavenly companions, 
 that your voice is added to theirs, and that angels join 
 with you, and you with them ; and that you, with a 
 poor and low voice, are singing that on earth which 
 they are singing in heaven. 
 
 Again, Sometimes imagine that you had been one 
 of those that joined with our blessed Saviour when he 
 sung an hymn. Strive to imagine to yourself with 
 what majesty he looked; fancy that you had stood 
 close by him, surrounded with his glory. Think how 
 your heart would have been inflamed, what ecstacies of 
 J^y you would have then felt, when singing with the 
 Son of God. Think again and again, with what joy 
 
204 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 and devotion you would then have sung, had this been 
 really your happy state^ and what a punishment you 
 should have thought it, to have been then silent ; and 
 let this teach you how to be affected with psalms and 
 hymns of thanksgiving*. 
 
 Agaiuj Sometimes imagine to yourself that you saw 
 holy David with his hands upon his harp, and his eyes 
 fixed upon heaven, calling with transport on the crea- 
 tion, sun and moon, light and darkness ; day and night, 
 men and angels, to join with his rapturous soul in 
 praising the Lord of heaven. 
 
 Dwell upon this imagination, till you think you are 
 singing with this divine musician, and let such a com- 
 panion teach you to exalt your heart unto God in the 
 following psalm ; which you may use constantly first 
 in the morning. 
 
 Psalm cxlv. / will magnify thee, O God my king : 
 I loill praise thy name for ever and ever, 8^c. 
 
 These following psalms, as the 34th, 96th, 103rd, 
 111th, 146th, and 147th, are such as wonderfully set 
 forth the glory of God ; and therefore you may keep 
 to any one of them at any particular hour, as you like : 
 Or you may take the finest parts of any psalms^ and 
 so adding them together, may make tliem titter for 
 your own devotion. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Recommending Devotion at nine o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, called in Scripture the third hour of the day. 
 The subject of these prayers is humility. 
 
 I AM now come to another hour of prayer, which 
 in scripture is called the third hour of the day ; but 
 according to our way of numbering the hours, it is 
 called the ninth hour of the morning. 
 
 The devout Christian must at this time look upon 
 himself as called upon by God to renew his acts of 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 205 
 
 prayer, and address himself again to the throne of 
 grace. 
 
 There is indeed no express command in scripture 
 to repeat our devotions at this hour. But then it is to 
 be considered also, that neither is there an express 
 command to begin and end the day with prayer. So 
 that if tliat he looked upon as a reason for neglecting 
 devotion at this hour, it may as well be urged as a 
 reason for neglecting devotion both at the beginning 
 and end of the day. 
 
 But if the practice of the saints in all ages of the 
 world, if the customs of the pious Jews and primitive 
 Christians be of any force with us, we have authority 
 enough to persuade us, to make this hour a constant 
 season of devotion. 
 
 The scriptures shew us how this hour was conse- 
 crated to devotion, both by Jews and Christians: so 
 that if we desire to number ourselves amongst those 
 whose hearts were devoted unto God, we must not let 
 this hour pass without presenting us to him in some 
 solemnities of devotion. And besides this authority 
 for this practice, the reasonableness of it is sufficient 
 to invite us to the observance of it. 
 
 For if you was up at a good time in the morning, 
 your first devotions will have been at a proper distance 
 from this hour : you will have been long enough at 
 other business, to make it proper for you to return to 
 this greatest of all business, the raising your soul and 
 affections unto God. 
 
 But if you have risen so late, as to be hardly able to 
 begin your first devotions at this hour, which is proper 
 for your second, you may thence learn that the in- 
 dulging yourself in the morning sleep is no small mat- 
 ter, since it sets you so tar back in your devotions, 
 and robs you of those graces and blessings, which are 
 obtained by frequent prayers. 
 
 For if prayer has power with God, if it looses the 
 bands of sin, if it purifies the soul, reforms our hearts, 
 and draws down the aids of divine grace ; how can 
 
S06 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 that be reckoned a small matter^ which robs us of an 
 hour of prayer ? 
 
 Imagine yourself somewhere placed in the air, as a 
 spectator of all that passes in the world ; and that you 
 saw in one view, the devotions which all Christian 
 people offer unto God every day. Imagine that you 
 saw some piously dividing the day and night, as the 
 primitive Christians did, and constant at all hours of 
 devotion, singing psalms, and calling upon God, at all 
 those times, that saints and martyrs received their gifts 
 and graces from God. 
 
 Imagine that you saw others living without any 
 rules, as to times and frequency of prayer, and only at 
 their devotions sooner or later, as sleep and laziness 
 happens to permit them. 
 
 Now if you was to see this, as God sees it, how do 
 you suppose you should be affected with this sight? 
 What judgment do you imagine you should pass upon 
 these different sorts of people? Could you think, that 
 those who were thus exact in their rules of devotion, got 
 nothing by their exactness ? Could you think, that their 
 prayers were received just in the same manner, and pro- 
 cured them no more blessings, than theirs do, who prefer 
 laziness and indulgence to times and rules of devotion ? 
 
 Could you take the one to be as true servants of 
 God, as the other? Could you imagine, that those 
 who were thus different in their lives, would find no 
 difference in their states after death? Could you think 
 it a matter of indifference to which of these people 
 you were most like ? 
 
 If not, let it be now your care to join yourself to 
 that number of devout people, to that society of saints, 
 amongst whom you desire to be found, when you 
 leave the world. 
 
 And although the bare number and repetition of our 
 prayers is of little value, yet since prayer, rightly and 
 attentively performed, is the most natural means of 
 amending and purifying our hearts ; since importunity 
 and frequency in prayer is as much pressed upon us 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 207 
 
 by scripture, as prayer itself, we may be sure, that 
 when we are frequent and importunate in ^our pray- 
 ers, we arc taking- the best means of obtaining the 
 hig-hest benefits of a devout life. 
 
 And on the other hand, they who through negli- 
 gence, laziness, or any other indulgence, render them- 
 selves either unable, or uninclined to observe rules and 
 hours of devotion, we may be sure, that they deprive 
 themselves of those graces and blessings which an 
 exact and fervent devotion procures from God. 
 
 Now as this frequency of prayer is founded in the 
 doctrine of scripture, and recommended to us by the 
 practice of the true worshippers of God ; so we ought 
 not to think ourselves excused from it, but where we 
 can shew, that we are spending our time in such busi- 
 ness, as is more acceptable to God, than these returns 
 of prayer. 
 
 Least of all must we imagine, that dulness, negli- 
 gence, indulgence, or diversions, can be any pardon- 
 able excuses for our not observing an exact and fre- 
 quent method of devotion. 
 
 If you are of a devout spirit, you will- rejoice at 
 these returns of prayer, which keep your soul in an 
 holy enjoyment of God ; wliich change your passions 
 into divine love^. and fill your heart with stronger joys 
 and consolations, than you can possibly meet with in 
 any thing else. 
 
 And if you are not of a devout spirit, then you are 
 moreover obliged to this frequency of prayer, to train 
 and exercise your heart into a true sense and feeling 
 of devotion. 
 
 Now seeing the holy spirit of the Christian Reli- 
 gion, and the example of the saints of all ages, call 
 upon you thus to divide the day into hours of prayer ; 
 so it will be highly beneficial to you, to make a right 
 choice of those matters which are to be the subject of 
 your prayers, and to keep every hour of prayer ap- 
 propriated to some particular subject, which you may 
 alter or enlarge, according as the state you are in re- 
 quires. 
 
208 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 By this means you will have an opportunity of being 
 large and particular in all the parts of any virtue or 
 gmcQ, which you then make the subject of your pray- 
 ers. And by asking for it in all its parts^ and making- 
 it the substance of a whole prayer once every day, 
 you will soon find a mighty change in your heart; 
 and that you cannot thus constantly pray for all the 
 parts of any virtue every day of your life, and yet live 
 the rest of the day contrary to it. 
 
 If a worldly-minded man was to pray every day 
 against all the instances of a worldly temper ; if he 
 should make a large description of the temptations of 
 covetousness, and desire God to assist him to reject 
 them all, and to disappoint him in all his covetous de- 
 signs, he would find his conscience so much awaken- 
 ed, that he would be forced either to forsake such 
 prayers, or to forsake a worldly life. 
 
 The same will hold true, in any other instance. 
 And if we ask, and have not, it is because we ask 
 amiss. Because we ask in cold and general forms, 
 such as only name the virtues without describing their 
 particular parts, such as are not enough particular to 
 our condition, and therefore make no change in our 
 hearts. Whereas when a man enumerates all the 
 parts of any virtue in his prayers, his conscience is 
 thereby awakened, and he is frightened at seeing how 
 far short he is of it. And this stirs him up to an ar- 
 dour in devotion, when he sees how much he wants of 
 that virtue which he is praying for. 
 
 1 have in the last chapter laid before you the excel- 
 lency of praise and thanksgiving, and recommended 
 that as the subject of your first devotions in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 And because an humble state of soul is the very 
 state of religion, because humility is the life and soul 
 of piety, the foundation and support of every virtue 
 and good work, the best guard and security of all holy 
 affections; 1 shall reconunend humihty to you, as 
 higlily proper to be made the constant subject of your 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 209 
 
 devotions^ at this third hour of the day : earnestly de- 
 siring- you to think no day safe, or likely to end well, 
 in which you have not thus early put youi'self in this 
 posture ot humility, and called upon God to carry you 
 through the day in the exercise of a meek and lowly 
 spirit. 
 
 This virtue is so essential to the right state of our 
 souls, that there is no pretending to a reasonable or 
 pious life without it. We may as well think to see 
 without eyes, or live without breath, as to live in the 
 spirit of religion, without the spirit of humility. 
 
 And although it is thus the soul and essence of all 
 religious duties, yet is it, generally speaking, the least 
 understood, the least regarded, the least intended, the 
 least desired, and sought after, of all other virtues, 
 amongst all sorts of Christians. 
 
 No people have more occasion to be afraid of the 
 approaches of pride, than those who have made some 
 advances in a pious life. For pride can grow as well 
 upon our virtues as our vices, and steals upon us on all 
 occasions. 
 
 Every good thought that we have, every good ac- 
 tion that we do, lays us open to pride, and exposes us 
 to the assaults of vanity and self-satisfaction. 
 
 It is not only the beauty of our persons, the gifts of 
 fortune, or our natural talents, and the distinctions of 
 life ; but even our devotions and alms, our fastings 
 and humiliations, expose us to fresh and ^strong temp- 
 tations of this evil spirit. 
 
 And it is for this reason, that I so earnestly advise 
 every devout person to begin every day in this exer- 
 cise of humility, that he may go on in safety under the 
 protection of his good guide, and not fall a sacrifice to 
 his own progress in those virtues, which are to save 
 mankind from destruction. 
 
 Humility does not consist in having a worse opinion 
 of ourselves than we deserve, or in abasing ourselves 
 lower than we really are. But as all virtue is found- 
 ed in truths so humility is founded in a true and just 
 
 p 
 
210 A SEKIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 sense of our weakness, misery, and sin. He that 
 rightly feels and hves in this sense of his condition, 
 lives in huniihty. 
 
 The weakness of our state appears from our inabi- 
 lity to do any thing-, as of ourselves. In our natural 
 state we are entirely without any power ; we are in- 
 deed active beings, but can only act by a power, that 
 is every moment lent us from God. 
 
 We have no more power of our own to move a 
 hand, or stir a foot, than to move the sun, or stop the 
 clouds. 
 
 When we speak a word, we feel no more power in 
 ourselves to do it, than we feel ourselves able to raise 
 the dead. For we act no more within our own power, 
 or by our own strength, when we speak a word, or 
 make a sound, than the apostles acted within their own 
 power, or by their own strength, when a word from 
 their mouth cast out devils, and cured diseases. 
 
 As it was solely the power of God that enabled 
 them to speak to such purposes, so it is solely the pow- 
 er of God that enables us to speak at all. 
 
 We indeed find that we can speak, as we find that 
 we are alive ; but the actual exercise of speaking is no 
 more in our own power, than the actual enjoyment of 
 life. 
 
 This is the dependent helpless poverty of our state ; 
 which is a great reason for humility. For since we 
 neither are, nor can do any thing of ourselves, to be 
 proud of any thing that we are, or of any thing that 
 we can do, and to ascribe glory to ourselves for these 
 things, as our own ornaments, has the guilt both of 
 stealing and lying. It has the guilt of stealing, as it 
 gives to ourselves those things whicli only belong to 
 God. It has the guilt of lying, as it is the denying the 
 truth of our state, and pretending to be something that 
 we are not. 
 
 Secondly, Another argument for humility, is found- 
 ed in the misery of our condition. 
 . Now the misery of our condition appears in this. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 
 
 211 
 
 that we use the borrowed powers of our, nature, to the 
 torment and vexation of ourselves^ and our fellow- 
 creatures. 
 
 God Almighty has entrusted us with the use of rea- 
 son, and we use it to the disorder and corruption of 
 our nature. We reason ourselves into all kinds of 
 folly and misery, and make our lives the sport of fool- 
 ish and extravagant passions : Seeking after imagi- 
 nary happiness in all kinds of shapes, creating to our- 
 selves a thousand wants, amusing our hearts with false 
 hopes and fears, using the world worse than irrational 
 animals, envying, vexing and tormenting one another 
 with restless passions, and unreasonable contentions. 
 
 Let any man but look back upon his own life, and 
 see what use he has made of his reason, how little he 
 has consulted it, and how less he has followed it. 
 What foolish passions, what vain thoughts, what need- 
 less labours, what extravagant projects, have taken up 
 the greatest part of his life. How foolish he has been 
 in his words and conversation ; how seldom he has 
 done well with judgment, and how often he has been 
 kept from doing ill by accident ; how seldom he has 
 been able to please himself, and how often he has dis- 
 pleased others ; how often he has changed his coun- 
 sels, hated what he loved, and loved what he hated ; 
 how often he has been enraged and transported at 
 trifles, pleased and displeased with the very same 
 things, and constantly changing^ from one vanity to 
 another. Let a man but take this view of his own 
 life, and he will see reason enough to confess, that 
 pride was not made for man. 
 
 Let him but consider, that if the world knew all 
 that of him, which he knows of himself; if they saw 
 what vanity and passions govern his inside, and what 
 secret tempers sully and corrupt his best actions, he 
 would have no more pretence to be honoured and ad- 
 mired for his goodness and wisdom, than a rotten and 
 distempered body to be loved and admired for its 
 beauty and comeliness. 
 
 p2 
 
212 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 This is so true, and so known to the hearts of al- 
 most all people, that nothing would appear more 
 dreadful to them, than to have their hearts thus fully 
 discovered to the eyes of all beholders. 
 
 And perhaps there are very few people in the 
 world, who would not rather chuse to die, than to 
 have all their secret follies, the errors of their judg- 
 ments, the vanity of their minds, the falseness of their 
 pretences, the frequency of their vain and disorderly 
 passions, their uneasiness, hatreds, envies, and vex- 
 ations, made known unto the world. 
 
 And shall pride be entertained in a heart thus con- 
 scious of its own miserable behaviour ? 
 
 Shall a creature in such a condition, that he could 
 not support himself under the shame of being known 
 to the world in his real state ; shall such a creature, 
 because his shame is only known to God, to holy an- 
 g-els, and his own conscience ; shall he, in the sight of 
 God, and holy angels, dare to be vain and proud of 
 himself? 
 
 Thirdly, If to this we add the shame and guilt of 
 sin, we shall lind a still greater reason for humility. 
 
 No creature that had lived in innocence, would have 
 thereby got any pretence for self-honour and esteem ; 
 because, as a creature, all that it is, or has, or does, is 
 from God, and therefore the honour of all that belongs 
 to it, is only due to God. 
 
 But if a creature that is a sinner, and under the dis- 
 pleasure of the great governor of all the world, and 
 deserving nothing from him, but pains and punish- 
 ments for the shameful abuse of his powers ; if such a 
 creature pretends to self-glory for any thing that he 
 i.s, or docs, he ca!i only be said to glory in his shame. 
 
 Now how monstrous and shameful the nature of sin 
 is, is sufficient!} apparent from that great atonement 
 that is necessary to cleanse us from the guilt of it. 
 
 Nothing less has been required to take away the 
 guilt of our sins, than the sufferings and death of the 
 j!>on of God. Had he not taken our nature upon him^ 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 213 
 
 our nature had been for ever separated from God, and 
 incapable of ever appearing before him. 
 
 And is there any room for pride or self-glory, 
 whilst we are partakers of such a nature as this .' 
 
 Have our sins rendered us so abominable and odious 
 to him that made us, that he could not so much as re- 
 ceive our prayerSj or admit oup repentance, till the Son 
 of God made himself man, and became a suttering" ad- 
 vocate for our whole race ; and can we in this state 
 pretend to high thoughts of ourselves? Shall we pre- 
 sume to take delight in our own worth, who are not 
 worthy so much as to ask pardon for our sins, without 
 the mediation and intercession of the Son of God? 
 
 Thus deep is the foundation of humility laid, in 
 these deplorable circumstances of our condition ; 
 which shew, that it is as great an offence against truth, 
 and the reason of things, for a man in this state of 
 things to lay claim to any degrees of glory, as to pre- 
 tend to the honour of creating himself. If man will 
 boast of any thing as his own, he must boast of his 
 misery and sin : for there is nothing else but this, that 
 is his own property. 
 
 Turn your eyes towards heaven, and fancy that you 
 saw what is doing there ; that you saw cherubims and 
 seraphims, and all the glorious inhabitants of that 
 place, all united in one work; not seeking glory from 
 one another, not labouring their own advancement, 
 not contemplating their own perfections, not singing 
 their own praises, not valuing themselves, and despis- 
 ing others, but all employed in one and the same 
 work ; all happy in one and the same joy ; casting 
 down their crowns before the throne of God, giving 
 glori/, and honour, and poiccr to him alone. Rev. iv. 
 10, 11. 
 
 Then turn your eyes to the fallon world, and con- 
 sider how unreasonable and odious it must be, for such 
 poor worms, such miserable sinners, to take delight in 
 their own fancied glories, whilst the highest and most 
 glorious sons of heaven, seek for no other greatness 
 
 p3 
 
214 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 and honour, but that of ascribing all honour and great- 
 ness, and glory to God alone ! 
 
 Pride is only the disorder of the fallen world, it has 
 no place amongst other beings ; it can only subsist 
 where ignorance and sensuality, lies and falsehood, 
 lusts and impurity reign. 
 
 Let a man, when he is most delighted with his own 
 figure, look upon a crucifix, and contemplate our 
 blessed Lord stretched out, and nailed upon a cross ; 
 and then let him consider, how absurd it must be, for 
 a heart full of pride and vanity, to pray to God, 
 through the sufferings of such a meek and crucified 
 Saviour. 
 
 These are the reflections that you are often to me- 
 ditate upon, that you may thereby be disposed to walk 
 before God and man in such a spirit of humility, as 
 becomes the weak, miserable, sinful state of all that 
 are descended from fallen Adam. 
 
 When you have, by such general reflections as 
 these, convinced your mind of the reasonableness of 
 humility, you must not content yourself with this, as if 
 you was therefore humble, because your mind acknow- 
 ledges the reasonableness of humility, and declares 
 against pride. But you must immediately enter your- 
 self into the practice of this virtue, like a young be- 
 ginner, that has all of it to learn, that can learn but 
 little at a time, and with great difficulty. You must 
 consider, that you have not only this virtue to learn, 
 but that you must be content to proceed as a learner 
 in it ail your time, endeavouring after greater degrees 
 of it, and practising every day acts of humility, as you 
 every day practise acts of devotion. 
 
 You would not imagine yourself to be devout, be- 
 cause in your judgment you approved of prayers, and 
 often declared your mind in favour of devotion. Yet 
 how many people imagine themselves humble enough 
 for no other reason, but because they often commend 
 humihty, and make vehement declarations against 
 pride ? 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. S15 
 
 Csecus is a rich maiij of good birth, and very fine 
 parts. He is fond of dress, curious in the smallest 
 matters that can add any ornament to his person. He 
 is haughty and imperious to all his inferiors, is very 
 full of every thing that he says or does, and never ima- 
 gines it possible for such a judgment as his to be mis- 
 taken. He can bear no contradiction, and discovers 
 the weakness of your understanding, as soon as ever 
 you oppose him. He clianges every thing in his 
 house, his habit, and his equipage, as often as any 
 thing more elegant comes in his way ; Caecus would 
 have been very religious, but that he always thought 
 he was so. 
 
 There is nothing so odious to Caecus as a proud 
 man ; and the misfortune is, that in this he is so very 
 quick-sighted, that he discovers in almost every body 
 some strokes of vanity. 
 
 On the other hand, he is exceeding fond of humble 
 and modest persons. Humility, says he, is so amiable 
 a quality, that it forces our esteem wherever we meet 
 with it. There is no possibility of despising the 
 meanest person that has it, or of esteeming the greatest 
 man that wants it. 
 
 Caecus no more suspects himself to be proud, than 
 he suspects his want of sense. And the reason of it 
 is, because he always finds himself in love with humili- 
 ty, and so enraged at pride. 
 
 It is very true, Caecus, you speak sincerely when 
 you say you love humility, and abhor pride. You are 
 no hyprocrite, you speak the true sentiments of your 
 mind ; but then take this along with you, Caecus, that 
 you only love humility, and hate pride, in other peo- 
 ple. You never once in your life thought of any 
 other humility, or of any other pride, than that which 
 you have seen in other people. 
 
 The case of Caecus is a common case ; many peo- 
 ple live in all the instances of pride, and intlulge every 
 vanity that can enter into their minds, and yet never 
 suspect themselves to be governed bv pride and vani- 
 
 p 1 
 
^16 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ty, because they know how much they dishke proud 
 people, and how mightily they are pleased with humi- 
 lity and modesty, wherever they find them. 
 
 All their speeches in favour of humility, and all their 
 railings against pride, are looked upon as so many 
 true exercises, and effects of their own humble spirit. 
 
 Whereas in truth, these are so far from being- pro- 
 per acts, or proofs of humility, that they are great 
 arguments of the want of it. 
 
 For the fuller of pride any one is himself, the more 
 impatient ivill he be at the smallest instances of it in 
 other people. And the less humility any one has in 
 his own mind, the more will he demand, and be de- 
 lighted with it in other people. 
 
 You must therefore act by a quite contrary mea- 
 sure, and reckon yourself only so far humble, as you 
 impose every instance of humility upon yourself, and 
 never call for it in other people. So far an enemy to 
 pride, as you never spare it in yourself, nor even cen- 
 sure it in other persons. 
 
 Now in order to do this, you need only consider, 
 that pride and humility signify nothing to you, but so 
 far as they are your own ; that they do you neither 
 good nor harm, but as they are the tempers of your 
 own heart. 
 
 The loving therefore of humility is of no benefit or 
 advantage to you, but so far as you love to see all your 
 own thoughts, words, and actions, governed by it. 
 And the hating of pride does you no good, is no per- 
 fection in you, but so far as you hate to harbour any 
 degree of it in your own heart. 
 
 Now in order to begin, and set out well in the prac- 
 tice of humility, you must take it for granted, that you 
 are proud, that you have all your life been more or less 
 infected with this unreasonable temper. 
 
 You should believe also, that it is your greatest 
 weakness, that your heart is most subject to it, that it 
 is so constantly stealing upon you, that you have rea- 
 son to watch and suspect its approaches in all your 
 ^.ctions, 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 217 
 
 For tbis is what most people, especially new begin- 
 ners in a pious life, may with great truth think of 
 themselves. 
 
 For there is no one vice that is more deeply rooted 
 in our nature, or that receives such constant nourish- 
 ment from almost every thing that we think or do. — 
 There being hardly any thing in the world that we 
 want or use, or any action or duty of life, but pride 
 finds some means or other to take hold of it. So that 
 at what time soever we begin to offer ourselves to 
 God, we can hardly be surer of any thing, than that 
 we have a great deal of pride to repent of. 
 
 If therefore you find it disagreeable to your mind 
 to entertain this opinion of yourself, and that you 
 cannot put yourself amongst those that want to be 
 cured of pride, you may be as sure as if an angel from 
 heaven had told you, that you have not only much, 
 but all your humility to seek. 
 
 For you can have no greater sign of a more con- 
 firmed pride, than when you think that 3^ou are hum- 
 ble enough. He that thinks he loves God enough, 
 shews himself to be an entire stranger to that holy pas- 
 sion ; so he that thinks he has humility enough, shews 
 that he is not so much as a beginner iu the practice 
 of true humility. 
 
 CHAPTER XVH, 
 
 Shewi7ig how difficult the practice of Humility is 
 made, by the general spirit and temper of the 
 ivorld. How Christianity/ requireth us to live con- 
 trary to the icorld. 
 
 EVERY person, when he first applies himself to 
 the exercise of this virtue of humility, must, as I said 
 Ijefore, consider himself as a learner ; that is, to learn 
 something that is contrary to former tempers, and ha- 
 
218 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 bits of mind, and which can only be got by daily and 
 constant practice. 
 
 He has not only as much to do, as he that has som©' 
 new art or science to learn, but he has also a great 
 deal to unlearn : He is to forget, and lay aside his 
 own spirit, which has been a long while fixing and 
 forming itself; he must forget, and depart from abun- 
 dance of passions and opinions, which the fashion, 
 and vogue, and spirit of the world has made natural 
 to him. 
 
 He must lay aside his own spirit, because, as we 
 are born in sin, so in pride, which is as natural to us 
 as self-love, and continually springs from it. And this 
 is one reason why Christianity is so often represented 
 as a new birth, and a new spirit. 
 
 He must lay aside the opinions and passions which 
 he has received from the world, because the vogue 
 and fashion of the world, by which we have been car- 
 ried away, as in a torrent, before we could pass right 
 judgments of the value of things, is in many respects 
 contrary to humility ; so that we must unlearn what 
 the spirit of the world has taught us, before we can 
 be governed by the spirit of humility. 
 
 The devil is called in scripture the prince of this 
 world, because he has great power in i*:, because ma- 
 ny of its rules and principles are invented by this 
 evil spirit, the father of all lies and falsehood, to se- 
 parate us from God, and prevent our return to hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Now according to the spirit and vogue of this 
 world, whose corrupt air we have all breathed, there 
 are many things that pass for great and honourable, 
 and most desirable, which yet are so far from being so, 
 that the true greatness and honour of our nature con- 
 sists in the not desiring them. 
 
 To abound ia wealth, to have fine houses and rich 
 clothes, to be attended with splendour and equipage, 
 to be beautiful in our persons, to have titles of digni- 
 ty, to be above our fellow-creatures, to command the 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 219 
 
 bows and obeisance of other people, to be looked on 
 with admiration, to overcome our enemies with pow- 
 er, to subdue all that oppose us, to set ourselves in as 
 much splendour as we can, to live highly and magni- 
 ficently, to eat and drink, and delight ourselves in the 
 most costly manner, these are the great, the honour- 
 able, the desirable things, to which the spirit of the 
 world turns the eyes of all people. And many a man 
 is afraid of standing still, and not engaging in the pur- 
 suit of these things, lest the same world should take 
 him for a fool. 
 
 The history of the gospel is chiefly the history of 
 Christ's conquest over this spirit of the world. And 
 the number of true Christians, is only the number of 
 those who, following the Spirit of Christ, have lived 
 contrary to the spirit of the world. 
 
 If any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, he is none 
 of his. Again, Whosoever is born of God, over Com- 
 eth the world. Set your affections on things above, 
 and not on things on the earth ; for ye are dead, and 
 your life is hid ivith Christ in God. This is the lan- 
 guage of the New Testament. This is the mark of 
 Christianity ; you are to be dead ; that is, dead to the 
 spirit and temper of the world, and live a new life in 
 the Spirit of Jesus Christ, 
 
 But notwithstanding the clearness and plainness of 
 these doctrines which thus renounce the world, yet 
 great part of Christians live and die slaves to the cus- 
 toms and tempers of the world. 
 
 How many people swell with pride and vanity, for 
 such things as they would not know how to value at 
 all, but that they are admired in the world. 
 
 Would a man take ten years more drudgery in bu- 
 siness to add two horses more to his coach, but that he 
 knows, that the world most of all admires a coach and 
 six? How fearful are many people of having their 
 houses poorly furnished, or themselves meanly clothed^ 
 for this only reason, lest the world should make no ac- 
 count of them, and place them amongst low and mean 
 people ! 
 
220 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 How often would a man have yielded to the haugh- 
 tiness and ill nature of others^ and shew a submissive 
 temper^ but that he dares not pass for such a poor 
 spirited man in the opinion of the world. 
 
 Many a man would often drop a resentment^ and 
 forgive an affront, but that he is afraid, if he should, 
 the world would not forgive him. 
 
 How many would practise Christian temperance and 
 sobriety in its utmost perfection, were it not for the 
 censure which the world passes upon such a life. 
 
 Others have frequent intentions of living up to the 
 rules of Christian perfection, which they are fright- 
 ened from, by considering what the world would say 
 of them. 
 
 Thus do the impressions, which we have received 
 from living in the world, enslave our minds, that we 
 dare not attempt to ]je eminent in the sight of God, 
 and holy angels, for fear of being little in the eyes of 
 the world. 
 
 From this quarter arises the great difficulty of hu- 
 mility, because it cannot subsist in any mind, but so 
 far as it is dead to the world, and has parted with all 
 desires of enjoying all greatness and honours. So that 
 in order to be truly humble, you must unlearn all those 
 notions which you have been all your life learning from 
 this corrupt spirit of the world. 
 
 You can make no stand against the assaults of 
 pride, the meek aflections of humility can have no 
 place in your soul, till you stop the power of the world 
 over you, and resolve against a blind obedience to its 
 laws. 
 
 And when you are once advanced thus far, as to be 
 able to stand still in the torrent of worldly fashions 
 and opinions, and examine the worth and value of 
 tilings which arc most admired and valued in the 
 world, you have gone a great way in the gaining of 
 your freedom, and have laid a good foundation for 
 the amendment of your heart. 
 
 For as great as the power of the world is, it is all built 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 221 
 
 upon a blind obedience, and we need only open our 
 eyes, to get quit of its power. Ask who you will, 
 learned or unlearned, every one seems to know and 
 confess, that the general temper and spirit of the world, 
 is nothing else but humour, folly, and extravagance. 
 
 Who will not own, that the wisdom of philosophy, 
 the piety of religion, was always confined to a small 
 number? And is not this expressly owning and con- 
 fessing, that the common spirit and temper of the 
 world, is neither according to the wisdom of philoso- 
 phy, nor the piety of religion? 
 
 Tiie world, therefore, seems enough condemned 
 even by itself, to make it very easy for a thinking man 
 to be of the same judgment. 
 
 And, therefore, I hope you will not think it a hard 
 saying, that in order to be humble, you must withdraw 
 your obedience from that vulgar spirit which gives 
 laws to fops and coquettes, and form your judgments 
 according to the wisdom of philosophy, and the piety 
 of religion. Who would be afraid of making such a 
 change as this? 
 
 Again, To lesson your fear and regard to the opi- 
 nion of the world, think how soon the world will dis- 
 regard you, and have no more thought or concern 
 about you, than about the poorest animal that died in 
 a ditch. 
 
 Your friends, if they can, may bury you with some 
 distinction, and set up a monument to let posterity see 
 that your dust lies under such a stone ; and when that 
 is done, all is done. Your place is filled up by ano- 
 ther, the world is just in the same state it was, you are 
 blotted out of its sight, and as much forgotten by 
 the world as if you had never belonged to it. 
 
 Think upon the rich, the great, and the learned 
 persons, that have made great figures, and been high 
 in the esteem of the world ; many of them died in 
 your time, and yet they are sunk, and lost, and gone, 
 and as much disregarded by the world, as if they had 
 been only so maoy bubbles of water. 
 
222 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Think again^ how many poor souls see heaven lost, 
 and lie now expecting a miserable eternity, for their 
 service and homage to a world, that thinks itself every 
 whit as weJl without them, and is just as merry as it 
 was when they were in it. 
 
 Is it, therefore, \vorth your while to lose the small- 
 est degree of virtue, for the sake of pleasing so bad a 
 master, and so false a friend as the world is ? 
 
 Is it worth your while to bow the knee to such an 
 idol as this, that so soon will have neither eyes, nor 
 ears, nor a heart to regard you ; instead of serving 
 that great, and holy, and mighty God, that will make 
 all his servants partakers of his own eternity? 
 
 Will you let the fear of a false world, that has no 
 love for you, keep you from the fear of that God, 
 who has only created you, that he may love and bless 
 you to all eternity ? 
 
 Lastly, you must consider what behaviour the pro- 
 fession of Christianity requireth of you, with regard 
 to the world : 
 
 Now this is plainly delivered in these words ; Who 
 gave himself for our sins, that he might deliver us 
 from this present evil world. Gal. i. 4. Christianity, 
 therefore, implieth adeliverance from this world ; and he 
 that professeth it, professeth to live contrary to every 
 thing and every temper that is peculiar to this evil world. 
 
 St. John declareth this opposition to the world in 
 this manner, Thej/ are of the world : therefore, speak 
 they of the world, and the world heareth them. fVe 
 are of God, 1 John iv. 5. This is the description of 
 the followers of Christ; and it is proof enough that 
 no people are to be reckoned Christians in reality, who 
 in their hearts and tempers belong to this world. We 
 know, saith the same apostle. That we are of God, 
 and the whole world lieth in wickedness, ch. v. ver. 19. 
 Christians, therefore, can no further know that they 
 are of God, than so far as they know that they are not 
 of the world ; that is, that they do not live according 
 to the ways and spirit of the world. For all the ways. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 233 
 
 and maxims, and politics, and tempers of (he world, 
 lie in wickedness. And he is only of God, or born of 
 God in Christ Jesus, who has overcome this world ; 
 that is, who has chosen to live by faith, and govern his 
 actions by the principles of a wisdom revealed from 
 God by Christ Jesus. 
 
 St. Paul takes it for a certainty so well known to 
 Christians, that they are no long*er to be considered as 
 living- in this world, that he thus argues from it, as 
 from an undeniable principle, concerning the abohsh- 
 ing the rites of the Jewish law : Wherefore if ye be 
 dead loitli Christ from the rudiments of the world, 
 tchj/, as though living in the world, are ye subject to 
 ordinances / Col. ii. 20. Here could be no argument 
 in this, but in the apostle's taking it for undeniable^ 
 that Christians knew, that their profession required 
 them to have done with all the tempers and passions 
 of this world, to live as citizens of the new Jerusalem, 
 and to have their conversation in heaven. 
 
 Our blessed Lord himself has fully determined this 
 point in these words : They are not of this world, as I 
 am not of this world. This is the state of Christianity 
 with regard to this world. If you are not thus out of, 
 and contrary to the world, you want the distinguishing 
 mark of Christianity ; you do not belong to Christ, 
 but by being out of tlie world as he was out of it. 
 
 We may deceive ourselves, if we please, with vain 
 and softening commands upon these word.s, but they 
 are and will be understood in their first simplicity and 
 plainness, by every one that reads them in the same 
 spirit that our blessed Lord spoke them. And to un- 
 derstand them in any lower, less significant meaning, 
 is to let carnal wisdom explain away that doctrine, by 
 which itself was to be destroyed. 
 
 The Christian's great conquest over the world, is 
 all contained in the mystery of Christ upon the cross. 
 It was there, and from thence, that he taught all 
 Christians how they were to come out of, and conquer 
 the world, and what they were to do in order to be 
 
^24 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 his disciples. And all the doctrines, sacraments, and 
 institutions of the g'ospel, are only so many explica- 
 tions of the meaning-, and applications of the benefit 
 of this great mysteiy. 
 
 And the state of Christianity implieth nothing else 
 but an entire, absohite conformity to that spirit which 
 Christ shewed in the mysterious sacrifice of himself 
 upon the cross. 
 
 Every man, therefore, is only so far a Christian as 
 he partakes of tliis Spirit of Christ. It was this that 
 made St. Paul so passionately express himself, God 
 forbid that I sJiould glory, save in the cross of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ : but why does he glory ? Is it be- 
 cause Christ had suffered in his stead, and had excused 
 himself from suffering? No, by no means. But it 
 was because his Christian profession had called him 
 to the honour of suffering with Christ, and of dying 
 to the world under reproach and contempt, as he had 
 done upon the cross. For he immediately adds, 63/ 
 ty/iom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the 
 •world. Gal. vi. 14. This you see was the reason of 
 his glorying in the cross of Christ, because he had 
 called him to a like state of death and crucifixion to 
 the world. 
 
 Thus was the cross of Christ, in St Paul's days, 
 the glory of Christians; not as it signified their not 
 being ashamed to own a Master that was crucified, 
 but as it signified their glorying in a religion, which 
 was nothing else but a doctrine of the cross, that call- 
 ed them to the same sufi'ering spirit, the same sacri- 
 fice of themselves, the same renunciation of the world, 
 the same humility and meekness, the same patient 
 bearing of injuries, reproaches, and contempts, and 
 the same dying to all the greatness, honours, and hap- 
 piness of the world, which Clirist shewed upon the 
 cross. 
 
 To have a true idea of Christianity, we must not 
 consider our blessed Lord us suffering in our stead, 
 but as our representative, acting in our name, and 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 225 
 
 with such particular merit, as to make our joining 
 with him acceptable unto God. 
 
 He sulYcred, and was a sacrifice, to make our suf- 
 feriujj^s and sacrifice of ourselves fit to be received by 
 God. And we are to suffer, to be crucified, to die, 
 and rise with Christ ; or else his crucifixion^ death, 
 and resurrection, will profit us nothing-. 
 
 The necessity of this conformity to all that Christ 
 did, and suffered upon our account, is very plain from 
 the whole tenor of Scripture. 
 
 First, As to his sufferings, this is the only condition 
 of our beini^ saved by them ; if '' we suffer with him, 
 we shall also reign with him." 
 
 Secondly, As to his crucifixion. '' Knowing this, 
 that our old man is crucified with him," &c. Rom. 
 vi. 6. Here you see Christ is not crucified in our 
 stead ; but unless our old man be really crucified with 
 him, the cross of Christ will profit us nothing". 
 
 Thirdly, As to the death of Christ, the condition is 
 this ; " If we be dead with Christ, we believe that we 
 shall also live with him." If, therefore, Christ be dead 
 alone, if we are not dead with him, we are as sure, 
 from this scripture, that we shall not live with him. 
 
 Lastly, As to the resurrection of Christ, the scrip- 
 ture sheweth us how we are to partake of the benefit 
 of it ; '' If ye be risen with Christ, seek those things 
 which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right 
 hand of God." Col. iii. 1. 
 
 Thus you see how plainly the Scripture sets forth 
 our blessed Lord, as our representative, acting and 
 suffering in our name, binding and obliging us to con- 
 form to all that he did and suffered for us. 
 
 It was for this reason, that the holy Jesus said of 
 his disciples, and in them of all true believers, " They 
 are not of this world, as I am not of this world." Be- 
 cause all true believers conforming to the sufterings, 
 crucifixion, death, and resurrection of Christ, live no 
 longer after the spirit and temper of this world, but 
 their life is hid with Christ in God. 
 
 Q 
 
226 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 This is the state of separation from the worlds to 
 which all orders of Christians are called. They must 
 so far renounce all worldly tempers, be so far govern- 
 ed by the things of another life, as to shew, that they 
 are truly and really crucified, dead, and risen with 
 Christ. And it is as necessary for all Christians to 
 conform to this great change of spirit, to be thus in 
 Christ new creatures, as it was necessary that Christ 
 should sutfer, die, and rise again for our salvation. 
 
 How high the Christian life is placed above the ways 
 of this world, is wonderfully described by St. Paul in 
 these words : " Wherefore henceforth know we no 
 man after the flesh ; yea, though we have known 
 Christ after the flesh ; yet henceforth we know him no 
 more. Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new 
 creature : old things are passed away ; behold all 
 things are become new." 2 Cor. v. 16. 
 
 He that feels the force and spirit of these words, 
 can hardly bear any human interpretation of them. 
 Henceforth, says be ; that is, since the death and re- 
 surrection of Christ, the state of Christianity is be- 
 come so glorious a state, that we do not even consider 
 Christ himself as in the flesh upon earth, but as a God 
 of glory in heaven ; Ave know and consider ourselves 
 not as men in the flesh, but as fellow-members of a 
 new society, that are to have all our hearts, our tem- 
 pers, and conversation in heaven. 
 
 Thus it is that Christianity has placed us out of, and 
 above the w orld ; and we fall from our calling, as soon 
 as we fall into the tempers of the world. 
 
 •Now as it was the spirit of the world that nailed 
 our blessed Lord to the cross ; so every man that has 
 the spirit of Christ, that opposes the world, as he did, 
 will certainly be crucified by the world some way or 
 other. 
 
 For Christianity still lives in the same world that 
 Christ did ; and these two will be utter enemies, till 
 the kingdom of darkness is entirely at an end. 
 
 Had you lived with our Saviour as his true disciple, 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 227 
 
 you had then been hated as he was ; and if you now 
 live in his spirit, the world will be the same enemy to 
 you now, that it was to him then. 
 
 " If ye were of the world/' saith our blessed Lord, 
 '' the world would love its own ; but because ye are 
 not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the 
 world, therefore the world hateth you." John xv. 19. 
 
 We are apt to lose the true meaning; of these 
 words, by considering them only as an historical de- 
 scription of something that was the state of our Sa- 
 viour and his disciples at that time. But this is read- 
 ing the Scripture as a dead letter : for they as exactly 
 describe the state of true Christians at this, and all 
 other times to the end of the world. 
 
 For as true Christianity is nothing else but the spi- 
 rit of Christ, so whether that spirit appear in the per- 
 son of Christ himself, or his apostles, or followers in 
 any age, it is the same thing : whoever hath his spirit 
 will be hated, despised, and condemned by the world 
 as he was. 
 
 For the world will always love its own, and none 
 but its own : this is as certain and unchangeable, as 
 the contrariety betwixt light and darkness. 
 
 When the holy Jesus saith. If the world hate you, 
 (he does not add by way of consolation, that it may 
 some time or other cease its hatred, or that it will not 
 always hate them ; but he only gives this as a reason 
 for their bearing it). You know that it hated me he- 
 fore it hated 2/ou: signifying, that it was he, that is, 
 his spirit, that by reason of its contrariety to the 
 world, was then, and always would be hated by it. 
 
 You will perhaps say, that the world is now become 
 Christian, at least that part of it where we live ; and 
 therefore the world is not to be considered in that state 
 of opposition to Christianity, as when it was heathen. 
 
 It is granted, the world now professeth Christianity,, 
 but will any one say, that this Christian world is of 
 the spirit of Christ? Are its general tempers the 
 tempers of Christ ? Are the passions of sensualityj 
 
228 A SEIliOUS CALL TO A 
 
 self-lovCj pride, covetoiisness, ambition, and vain-g-Io- 
 ry, less contrary to the spirit of the gospel, now they 
 are amongst Christians, than when they were amongst 
 heathens .^ Or will yon say, that the tempers and pas- 
 sions of the heathen world are lost and gone ? 
 
 Consider, Secondly, What yon are to mean by the 
 world. Now this is fully described to our hands by 
 St. John. All that is in the world, the lust of the 
 flesh, the lust of the cj/es, and the pride of life, &c. 1 
 John iii. 16. This is an exact and full description of 
 the world. Now will you say, that this world is be- 
 come Christian ? But if all this still subsists, then the 
 .same world is now in being, and the same enemy to 
 Christianity, that was in St Johns days. 
 
 It is this world that St. John condemned, as being 
 not of the Father ; whether therefore it outwardly 
 professeth, or openly persecuteth Christianity, it is 
 still in the same state of contrariety to the true spirit 
 and holiness of the gospel. 
 
 And indeed the world, by professing Christianity, is 
 so far from being a less dangerous enemy than it was 
 before, that it has by its favours destroyed more 
 Christians than ever it did by the most violent perse- 
 cution. 
 
 We must, therefore, be so far from considering the 
 world as in a state of less enmity and opposition to 
 Christianity, than it was in the first times of the gos- 
 pel, that Ave must guard against it as a greater and 
 more dangerous enemy now, than it was in those times. 
 
 It is a greater enemy, because it has greater power 
 over Christians by its favours, riches, honours, re- 
 wards, and protections, than it had by the fire and fury 
 of its persecutions. 
 
 It is a more dangerous enemy, by having lost its 
 appeaiance of enmity. Its outward profession of 
 Christianity makes it no longer considered as an 
 enemy, and therefore the generality of people are ea- 
 sily persuaded to resign themselves up to be governed 
 and directed by it. 
 
BEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 229 
 
 How many consciences are kept at quiet, upon no 
 other foundation^ but because they sin under the au- 
 thority of the Christian world ? 
 
 How many directions of the gospel lie by unregard- 
 ed; and how unconcernedly do particular persons 
 read them; for no other reason^ but because they 
 seem unregarded by the Christian world ? 
 
 How many compliances do people make to the 
 Christian world, without any hesitation or remorse ; 
 which, if they had been required of them only by hea- 
 thens, would have been refused, as contrary to the ho- 
 liness of Christianity ? 
 
 Who could be content with seeing how contrary his 
 life is to the gospel, but because he sees that he lives 
 as the Christian world doth? 
 
 AVho that reads the gospel, would want to be per- 
 suaded of the necessity of great self-denial, humility, 
 and poverty of spirit, but that the authority of the 
 world has banished this doctrine of ^lie cross? 
 
 There is nothing, therefore, that a .good Christian 
 ought to be more suspicious of, or more constantly 
 guard against, than the authority of the Christian 
 world. 
 
 And all the passages of scripture^ which represent 
 the world as contrary to Christianity, which require 
 our separation from it, as from a mammon of unrigh- 
 teousness, a monster of iniquity, are all to be taken in 
 the same strict sense, in relation to the present world. 
 
 For the change that the world has undergone, 
 has only altered its methods, but not lessened its pov/- 
 er of destroying religion. 
 
 Christians had nothing to fear from the heathen 
 world, but the loss of their lives ; but the world be- 
 come a friend, makds it difficult for them to save their 
 religion. 
 
 Whilst pride, sensuality, covetousness, and ambi- 
 tion, had only the authority of the heathen world. 
 Christians were thereby made more intent upon the 
 contrary virtues. But when pride, sensuality, covet- 
 
 q3 
 
S30 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ousness^ and ambition, have the authority of the 
 Christian world, then private Christians are in the ut- 
 most danger, not only of being* shamed out of the 
 practice, but of losing- the very notion of the piety of 
 the gospel. 
 
 There is, therefore, hardly any possibility of saving 
 yourself from the present world, but by considering it 
 as the same wicked enemy to all true holiness, as it is 
 represented in the scriptures ; and by assuring your- 
 self, that it is as dangerous to conform to its tempers 
 and passions, now it is Christian, as when it was hea- 
 then. 
 
 For only ask yourself. Is the piety, the humility, the 
 sobriety of the Christian world, the piety, the humili- 
 ty, and sobriety of the Christian spirit? If not, how 
 can you be more undone by any world, than by con- 
 forming to that which is Christian ? 
 
 Need a man do more to make his soul unfit for the 
 mercy of God, than by being greedy and ambitious of 
 honour? Yet.how can a man renounce this temper, 
 without renouncing the spirit and temper of the world, 
 in which you now live ? 
 
 How can a man be made more incapable of the spi- 
 rit of Christ, tlmn by a wrong value for money ; and 
 yet how can he be more wrong in his value of it, than 
 by following the authority of the Christian world? 
 
 Nay, in every order and station of life, whether of 
 learning or business, either in church or state^ you 
 cannot act up to the spirit of religion, without re- 
 nouncing the most general temper and behaviour of 
 those who are of the same order and business as your- 
 self. 
 
 And though human prudence seems to talk mighty 
 wisely about the necessity of avoiding particularities, 
 yet he that dares not to be so weak as to be particu- 
 lar, will be often obliged to avoid the most substantial 
 duties of Christian piety. 
 
 These reflections will, I hope, help you to break 
 through those difficulties, and resist those temptations. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 231 
 
 which the authority and fashion of the world hatli 
 raised against the practice of Christian humility. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Shewi7ig how the Education lohichmen generally re- 
 ceive in their youth, makes the doctrines of Humi- 
 lity difficult to he practised. The spirit of a better 
 Education represented in the character o/'Paternus. 
 
 ANOTHER difficulty in the practice of humility, 
 arises from our education. We are all of us^ for the 
 most part, corruptly educated, and then committed to 
 take our course in a corrupt w orld ; so that it is no 
 wonder, if examples of great piety are so seldom seen. 
 
 Great part of the world are undone by being born 
 and bred in families that have no religion ; where 
 they are made vicious and irregular, by being like 
 those with whom they first lived. 
 
 But this is not the thin«' I now mean : the education 
 that I here intend, is such as children generally re- 
 ceive from virtuous and sober parents, and learned tu- 
 tors and governors. 
 
 Had we continued perfect, ns God created the first 
 man, perhaps the perfection of our nature had been a 
 sufficient self-instruction for every one. But as sick- 
 ness and diseases have created the necessity of medi- 
 cines and physicians, so the change and disorder of 
 our rational nature has introduced the necessity of 
 education and tutors. 
 
 And as the only end of tlie physician is to restore 
 nature to its own state ; so the only end of education 
 is, to restore our rational nature to its proper state. 
 Education, therefore, is to be considered as reason 
 borrowed at second-hand, which is, as far as it can, to 
 supply the loss of original perfection. And as physic 
 may justly be called the art of restoring health, so 
 
 q4 
 
^32 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 education should be considered in no other light, 
 than as the art of recovering to man the use of his 
 reason. 
 
 Now as the instruction of every art or science is 
 founded upon the discoveries^ the wisdom, experience, 
 and maxims of the several g-reat men that have labour- 
 ed in it ; so that human wisdom, or right use of our 
 reason, which young people should be called to by 
 their education, is nothing else but the best experience 
 and finest reasonings of men, that have devoted them- 
 selves to the study of wisdom, and the improvement of 
 human nature. 
 
 All therefore that great saints and dying men, when 
 the fullest of light and conviction, and after the high- 
 est improvement of their reason, all that they have said 
 of the necessity of piety, of the excellency of virtue, of 
 their duty to God, of the emptiness of riches, of the 
 vanity of the world ; all the sentences, judgments, rea- 
 sonings, and maxims of the wisest of philosophers,, 
 when in their highest state of wisdom, should consti- 
 tute the common lessons of instruction for youthful 
 minds. 
 
 This is the only way to make the young and ignorant 
 part of the world the better for the wisdom and know- 
 ledge of the wise and ancient. 
 
 An education which is not wholly intent upon this, 
 is as much beside the point, as an art of physic, that 
 had little or no regard to the restoration of health. 
 
 The youths that attended upon Pythagoras, Socra- 
 tes, Plato, and Epictetus, were thus educated. Their 
 every-day lessons and instructions were so many lec- 
 tures upon the nature of man, his true end, and the 
 right use of his faculties ; upon the immortality of the 
 soul, its relation to God, the beauty of virtue, and its 
 agreeableness to the divine nature ; upon the dignity 
 of reason, the necessity of temperance, fortitude, and 
 generosity, and the shame, and folly of indulging our 
 passions. 
 
 Now as Christianity has, as it were, new created 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 233 
 
 the moral and religious world, and set every thing that 
 is reasonable, wise, holy, and desirable, in its true 
 point of light ; so one would expect, that the educa- 
 tion of youth should be as much bettered and amend- 
 ed by Christianity, as the faith and doctrines of reli- 
 gion are amended by it. 
 
 As it has introduced such a new state of things, and 
 so fully informed us of the nature of man, the ends of 
 his creation, the state of his condition ; as it has fixed 
 all our goods and evils, taught us the means of purify- 
 ing our souls, pleasing God, and becoming eternally 
 happy; one might naturally suppose, that every 
 Christian country abounded with schools for the teach- 
 ing not only a few questions and answers of a Cate- 
 chism, but for the forming, training, and practising 
 youths in such an outward course of life, as the high- 
 est precepts, the strictest rules, and the subHmest doc- 
 trines of Christianity require. 
 
 An education under Pythagoras, or Socrates, had no 
 other end, but to teach youth to think, judge, act, and 
 follow such rules of life, as Pythagoras and Socrates 
 used. 
 
 And is it not as reasonable to suppose, that a Chris- 
 tian education should have no other end, but to teach 
 youth how to think, and judge, and act, and live ac- 
 cording to the strictest laws of Christianity ? 
 
 At least one would suppose, that in all Christian 
 schools, the teaching youth to begin their lives in the 
 spirit of Christianity, in such severity of behaviour, 
 such abstinence, sobriety, humility, and devotion, as 
 Christianity requires, should not only be more, but an 
 hundred times more regarded, than any, or all things 
 else. 
 
 For our education should imitate our guardian an- 
 gels, suggest nothing to our minds but what is wise 
 and holy ; help us to discover and subdue every vain 
 passion of our hearts, and every false judgment of our 
 minds. 
 
 And it is as sober and reasonable to expect and re- 
 
S34 ▲ SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 quire all this benefit of a Christian education, as to re- 
 quire that physic should strengthen all that is right in 
 our nature, and remove that which is sickly and dis- 
 eased. 
 
 But, alas ! our modern education is not of this kind. 
 
 The first temper that we try to awaken in children, 
 is pride ; as dangerous a passion as that of lust. We 
 stir them up to vain thoughts of themselves, and do 
 every thing we can, to puff up their minds with a 
 sense of their own abihties. 
 
 Whatever way of life we intend them for, we apply 
 to the fire and vanity of their minds, and exhort them 
 to every thing from corrupt motives : We stir them 
 up to action from principles of strife and ambition, 
 from glory, envy, and a desire of distinction, that they 
 may excel others, and shine in the eyes of the world. 
 
 We repeat and inculcate these motives upon them, 
 till they think it a part of their dut^ to be proud, envi- 
 ous, and vain-glorious of their own accomplishments. 
 
 And when we have taught them to scorn to be out- 
 done by any, to bear no rival, to thirst after every in- 
 stance of applause, to be content with nothing but the 
 highest distinctions ; then we begin to take comfort 
 in them, and promise the world some mighty things 
 fi'om youths of such a glorious spirit. 
 
 If cliildren are intended for holy orders, we set be- 
 fore them some eminent orator, whose fine preaching 
 has made him the admiration of the age, and carried 
 him through all the dignities and preferments of the 
 church. 
 
 We encourage them to have these honours in their 
 eye, and to expect the reward of their studies from them. 
 
 If the youth is intended for a trade, we bid him look 
 at all the rich men of the same trade, and consider 
 how many now are carried about in their stately 
 coaches, who began in the same low degree as he now 
 does. We awaken his ambition, and endeavour to 
 give his mind a right turn, by often telling him how 
 very rich such and such a tradesman died. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 235 
 
 If he 19 to be a lawyer, then we set great counsel- 
 lors, lords, judges, chancellors, before his eyes. We 
 teli him what great fees, and great applause attend 
 fine pleading. We exhort him to take fire at these 
 things, to raise a spirit of emulation in himself, and to 
 be content with nothing less than the highest honours 
 of the long robe. 
 
 That this is the nature of our best education, is too 
 plain to need any proof; and I believe there are few 
 parents, but would be glad to see these instructions 
 daily given to their children. 
 
 And after all this, we complain of the effects of 
 pride ; we wonder to see grown men actuated and go- 
 verned by ambition, envy, scorn, and a desire of g-lory ; 
 not considering that they were all the time of their 
 youth, called upon to all their action and industry 
 upon the same principles. 
 
 You teach a child to scorn to be out-done, to thirst 
 for distinction and applause; and is it any wonder 
 that he continues to act all his life in the same manner? 
 
 Now if a youth is ever to be so far a Christian as to 
 govern his heart by the doctrines of humility, I would 
 fain know at what time he is to begin it ; or if he is 
 ever to begin it at all, why we train him up in tempers 
 quite contrary to it? 
 
 How dry and poor must the doctrine of humility 
 sound to a youth, that has been spurred tip to all his 
 industry by ambition, envy, emulation, and a desire of 
 glory and distinction! And if he is not to act by 
 these principles when he is a man, w hy do we call him 
 to act by them in his youth? 
 
 Envy is acknowledged by all people, to be the most 
 ungenerous, base, and wicked passion, that can enter 
 into the heart of a man. 
 , And is this a temper to be instilled, nourished, and 
 established in the minds of young people ? , 
 
 I know it is said that it is not envy, but emulation, 
 that is intended to be awakened in the minds of young 
 men. 
 
236 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 But this is vainly said. For when children are 
 taught to bear no rivals and to scorn to be out-done 
 by any of their age^ they are plainly and directly 
 taufflit to be envious. For it is impossible for any one 
 to have this scorn of being out-done^ and this conten- 
 tion with rivals, without burning- with envy against ail 
 those that seem to excel him, or get any distinction 
 from him. So that what children are taught, is rank 
 envy, and only covered with a name of a less odious 
 sound. 
 
 Secondly, If envy is thus confessedly bad, and it be 
 only emulation that is endeavoured to be awakened in 
 children, surely there ought to be great care taken, 
 that children may know the one from the other. That 
 they may abominate the one as a great crime, whilst 
 they give the other admission into their minds. 
 
 But if this were to be attempted, the fineness of the 
 distinction betwixt envy and emulation, would shew 
 that it was easier to divide them into words, than to 
 separate them in action. 
 
 For emulation, when it is defined in the best man- 
 ner, is nothing else but a refinement upon envy, or 
 rather the most plausible part of that black and ve- 
 nomous passion. 
 
 And though it is easy to separate them in the no- 
 tion, yet the most acute philosopher, that understands 
 the art of distinguishing ever so well, if he gives him- 
 self up to emulation, will certainly find himself deep 
 fn envy. 
 
 For envy is not an original temper, but the natu- 
 ral, necessary, and unavoidable eifect of emulation, or 
 a desire of glory. 
 
 So that he who establishes the one in the minds of 
 people, necessarily fixes the other there. And there 
 is no other possible way of destroying envy, but by 
 destroying emulation, or a desire of glory. For the 
 one always rises and falls in proportion to the other. 
 
 1 know it is said in defence of this method of educa- 
 tion, that ambition, and a desire of glory,, are nccessa- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 237 
 
 vy to excite young people to industry ; and that if we 
 were to press upon them the doctrines of humility^ we 
 should deject their minds, and sink them into dulness 
 and idleness. 
 
 But these people who say this, do not consider, that 
 this reason, if it has any strength, is full as strong 
 against pressing the doctrines of humility upon grown 
 men, lest we should deject their minds, and sink them 
 into dulness and idleness. 
 
 For who does not see that middle-aged men want as 
 much the assistance of pride, ambition, and vain glory, 
 to spur them up to action and industry, as children 
 do ? And it is very certain, that the precepts of hu- 
 mility are more contrary to the designs of such men, 
 and more grievous to their minds, when they are 
 pressed upon them, than they are to the minds of 
 young persons. 
 
 This reason therefore that is given, why children 
 should not be trained up in the principles of true hu- 
 mility, is as good a reason why the same humility 
 should never be required of grown men. 
 
 Thirdli/, Let those people, who think that children 
 would be spoiled, if they were not thus educated, con- 
 sider this. 
 
 Could they think, that if any children had been 
 educated by our blessed Lord, or his holy apostles, 
 that their minds would have been sunk into dulness 
 and idleness ? 
 
 Or could they think, that such children would not 
 have been trained up in the profoundest principles of 
 a strict and true humility? Can they say that our 
 blessed Lord, who was the meekest and humblest man 
 that ever was on earth, was hindered by his humility 
 from being the greatest example of worthy and glori- 
 ous actions, that ever were done by man ? 
 
 Can they say that his apostles, who lived in the 
 humble spirit of their Master, did therefore cease to 
 be laborious and active instruments of doing good to 
 all the world ? 
 
23S A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 A few such reflections as these, are sufficient to ex- 
 pose all the poor pretences for an education in pride 
 and ambition. 
 
 Paternus lived about t5VO hundred years ago ; he 
 had but one son^ whom he educated himself in his 
 own house. As they were sitting- together in the gar- 
 den, when the child was ten years old^ Paternus thus 
 began to him. 
 
 The little time that you haVe been in the world, my 
 child, you have spent wholly with me ; and my love 
 and tenderness to you, has made you look upon me as 
 your only friend and benefactor, and the cause of all 
 the comfort and pleasure that you enjoy : your heart, 
 I know, would be ready to break with grief, if you 
 thought this was the last day that I should live with 
 you. 
 
 But, my child, though you now think yourself 
 mighty happy, because you have hold of my hand, you 
 are now in the hands, and under the care of a much 
 greater Father and Friend than I am, whose love to 
 you is far greater than mine, and from whom you re- 
 ceive such blessings as no mortal can give. 
 
 That God whom you have seen me daily worship ; 
 whom I daily call upon to bless both you and me, and 
 all mankind; whose wondrous acts are recorded in 
 those scriptures which you constantly read : That 
 God who created the heavens and the earth ; who 
 brought a flood upon the whole world; who saved 
 Noah in the ark ; who was the God of Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob ; whom Job blessed and praised in 
 the greatest afflictions; who delivered the Israelites 
 out of the hands of the Egyptians ; who was the pro- 
 tector of righteous Joseph, Moses, Joshua, and holy 
 Daniel ; who sent so many prophets into the world ; 
 who sent his Son Jesus Christ to redeem mankind: 
 This God, who has done all these great things, who 
 has created so many millions of men, who lived and 
 died before you was born, with whom the spirits of 
 good men, that are departed life, now live, whom infi- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 239 
 
 iiite numbers of angels now worship in heaven ; this 
 great God, who is the Cieator of worlds, of angels, 
 and men, is your lovuig Father and Friend, your good 
 Creator and Nourishcr, from whom, and not from me, 
 you received your beir.o- ten years ai»'o, at the time 
 that I planted that littk te.uier eini vvhich you there 
 see. 
 
 I myself am not half the age of this shady oak, un- 
 der which we sit ; many of our fathers have sat under 
 its boughs ; we have all of us called it ours in our 
 turn, though it stands, and drops its masters, as it 
 drops its leaves. 
 
 You see, my son, this wide and large firmament 
 over our heads, where the sun and moon, and all the 
 stars appear in their turns. If you was to be carried 
 up to any of these bodies at this vast distance from us, 
 you would still discover others as much above, as the 
 stars that you see here are above the earth. Were 
 you to go up or down, east or west, north or south, 
 you would find the same height without any top, and 
 the same depth without any bottom. 
 
 And yet, my child, so great is God, that all these 
 bodies added together are but as a grain of sand in 
 his sight. And yet you are as much the care of this 
 great God and Father of all worlds, and all spirits, as 
 if he had no son but you, or there were no creature 
 for him to love and protect but you alone. He num- 
 bers the hairs of your head, watches over you sleeping 
 and waking, and has preserved you from a thousand 
 dangers, which neither you nor I know any thing of. 
 
 llow poor my power is, and how little I am able to 
 do for you, you have often seen. Your late sickness 
 has shewn you how little I could do for you in that 
 state ; and the frequent pains of your head are plain 
 proofs, that I have no power to remove them. 
 
 I can bring you food and medicines, but have no 
 power to turn them into your relief and nourishment; 
 it is God alone that can do this for you. 
 
 Therefore, my child, fear and worship, and love 
 
240 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 God. Your eyes indeed cannot yet see him, but 
 every thing you see, are so many marks of his power 
 and presence, and he is nearer to you than any thing 
 that you can see. 
 
 Take him for your Lord, and Father, and Friend, 
 look up to him as the fountain and cause of all the 
 good that you have received through my hands ; and 
 reverence me only as the bearer and minister of God's 
 good things unto you. And he that blessed my fa- 
 ther before I was born, will bless you when I am dead. 
 
 Your youth and little mind is only yet acquainted 
 with my family, and therefore, you think there is no 
 happiness out of it. 
 
 But, my child, you belong to a greater family than 
 mine, you are a younger member of the family of this 
 Almighty Father of all nations, who has created infi- 
 nite orders of angels and numberless generations of 
 men, to be fellow-members of one and the same soci- 
 ety in heaven. 
 
 You do well to reverence and obey my authority, 
 because God has given me power over you, to bring 
 you up in his fear, and to do for you as the holy fa- 
 thers recorded in Scripture did for their children, who 
 are now in rest and peace with God. 
 
 I shall in a short time die, and leave you to God 
 and yourself; and if God forgiveth my sins, I shall go 
 to his Son Jesus Christ, and live amongst patriarchs 
 and prophets, saints and martyrs, where I shall pray 
 for you, and hope for your safe arrival at the same 
 place. 
 
 Therefore, my child, meditate on these great things, 
 and your soul will soon grow great and noble by so 
 meditating upon them. 
 
 Let your thoughts often leave these gardens, these 
 fields and farms, to contemplate upon God and hea- 
 ven, to consider upon angels, and the spirits of good 
 men living in light and glory. 
 
 As you have been used to look to me in all your ac- 
 tions, and have been, afraid to do any thing, unless you 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE ^41 
 
 first knew my will ; so let it now be a rule of your life, 
 to look up to God in all your actions^ to do every 
 thing- in his fear, and to abstain from every thing that 
 is not according- to his will. 
 
 Bear him always in your mind, teach your thoughts 
 to reverence him in every place, for there is no place 
 where he is not. 
 
 God keepeth a book of life, wherein all the actions 
 of all men are written ; your name is thefe, my child, 
 and when you die, this book will be laid open before 
 men and angels, and according as your actions are 
 there found, you will either be received to the happi- 
 ness of those holy men who have died before you, or 
 be turned away amongst wicked spirits, that are never 
 to see God any more. 
 
 Never forget this book, my son ; for it is written, it 
 must be opened, you must see it, and you must be 
 tried by it. Strive, therefore, to fill it with your good 
 deeds that the hand-writing of God may not appear 
 against you. 
 
 God, my child, is all love, and wisdom, and good- 
 ness ; and every thing that he has made, and every ac- 
 tion that he does, is the etfectof them all. Therefore, 
 you cannot please God, but so far as you strive to 
 walk in love, wisdom, and goodness. As all wisdom, 
 love, and goodness proceed from God, so nothing but 
 love, wisdom, and goodness, can lead to God. 
 
 When you love that which God loves, you act with 
 him, you join yourself to him ; and when you love 
 what he dislikes, then you oppose him, and separate 
 yourself from him. This is the true and the right 
 way : think what God loves, and do you love it with 
 all your heart. 
 
 First of all, my child, worship and adore God, think 
 of him magnificently, speak of him reverently, magni- 
 fy his providence, adore his power, frequent his ser- 
 vice, and pray unto him frequently and constantly. 
 
 Next to this, love your neighbour, which is all man- 
 kind, wit,h such tenderhess and affection, as you love 
 
 R 
 
242 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 yourself. Think how God loves all mankind^ how 
 merciful he is to them, how tender he is of them, how 
 carefully he preserves them, and then strive to love 
 the world as God loves it. 
 
 God would have all men to be happy ; therefore, 
 do you will, and desire the same. All men are great 
 instances of divine love ; therefore, let all men be in- 
 stances of your love. 
 
 But above all, my sou, mark this ; never do any 
 thin^ through strife, or envy, or emulation, or vain- 
 glory. Never do any thing in order to excel other 
 people, but in order to please God^ and because it is 
 his will, that you should do every thing in the best 
 manner that you can. 
 
 For if it is once a pleasure to you to excel other 
 people, it will by degrees be a pleasure to you, to see 
 other people not so good as yourself. 
 
 Banish, tlierefore, every thought of self-pride, ind 
 self-distinction, and accustom yourself to rejoice in all 
 the excellencies and perfections of your fellow-crea- 
 tures, and be as glad to see any of their good actions, 
 as your own. 
 
 For as (iod is as well pleased with their wellrdo- 
 ings, as with yours ; so you ought to desire, that every 
 thing* that is wise, and holy, and good, may be per- 
 foruked in as high a manner by other people, as by 
 yourself. 
 
 Let this, therefore, be your only motive and spur to 
 all good actions, honest industry, and business, to do 
 every thing- in as perfect and excellent a manner as 
 you can, for this only reason ; because it is pleasing* 
 to God, who desires your perfection, and writes all 
 your actions in a book. "^Vhen 1 am dead, my son, 
 you will be master of ail my estate, which will be a 
 g-reat deal more than the necessities of one family re- 
 quire. Therefore, as you are to be charitable to the 
 souls of men, and wish them the same happiness with 
 you in heaven, so be charitable to their bodies, and en- 
 deavour to make them as happy as you upon earth. 
 
DftVOLT AND HOLY LIFE. 243 
 
 As God has created all things for the common good 
 of all men, so let that part of them, which is fallen to 
 your share, be employed, as God would have all era- 
 ployed, for the common good of all. 
 
 Do good, my son, first of all to those that most de- 
 serve it, but remember to do good to all. The great- 
 est sinners receive daily instances of God's goodnesfts 
 towards them ; he nourishes and preserves them, that 
 they may repent, and return to him ; do you there- 
 fore, imitate God, and think no one too bad to receive 
 your relief and kindness, when you see that he wants 
 it. 
 
 I am teaching you Latin and Greek, not that you 
 should desire to be a great critic, a fine poet, or an 
 eloquent orator ; I would not have your heart feel any 
 of those desires ; for the desire of these accomplish- 
 ments is a vanity of the mind, and the masters of them 
 are generally vain men. For the desire of any thing 
 that is not a real good, lessens the application of the 
 mind after that which is so. 
 
 But I teach you these languages, that at proper 
 times you may look into the history of past ages, and 
 learn the methods of God's providence over the world. 
 That reading the writings of the ancient sages, you 
 may see how wisdom and virtue have been the praise 
 of great men, of all ages, and fortify your mind by 
 their wise sayings. 
 
 Let truth and ])lainness, therefore, be the only or- 
 nament of your language, and study nothing but how 
 to think of all things as they deserve, to chuse every 
 thing that is best, to live according to reason and or- 
 der, and to act in every part of your life, in conformity 
 to the will of God. 
 
 Study how to fill your heart full of the love of God, 
 and the love of your neighbour, and then be content 
 to be no deeper a scholar, no finer a gentleman, than 
 these tempers will make you. As true religion is no- 
 thing else but simple nature governed by right reason, 
 so it loves and requires great plainness and simplicity \ 
 
 r2 
 
244 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 in life. Therefore, avoid all superfluous shows of 
 finery and equipage, and let your house be plainly 
 furnished with moderate conveniences. Do not con- 
 sider what your estate can afford, but what right rea- 
 son requires. 
 
 Let your dress be sober, clean, and modest, not to 
 set out the beauty of your person, but to declare the 
 sobriety of your mind, that your outward garb may 
 resemble the inward plainness and simplicity of your 
 heart. For it is highly reasonable, that you should be 
 one man, all of a piece, and appear outwardly such as 
 you are inwardly. 
 
 As to your meat and drink, in them observe the 
 highest rules of Christian temperance and sobriety ; 
 consider your body only as the servant and minister of 
 your soul ; and only so nourish it, as it may best per- 
 form an humble and obedient service to it. 
 
 But, my son, observe this as a most principal thing, 
 which I shall reraeidter you of as long as I live with 
 
 Hate and despise all human glory, for it is nothing 
 else but human folly. It is the greatest snare and the 
 greatest betrayer, that you can possibly admit into 
 your heart. 
 
 Love humility in all its instances, practise it in all 
 its parts, for it is the noblest state of the soul of man ; 
 it will set your heart and affections right towards God, 
 and fill you with every temper that is tenderandaffec- 
 tioimte towards men. 
 
 Let every day, therefore, be a day of humility, con- 
 descend to all the weakness and infirmities of your 
 fellow-creatures, cover their frailties, love their excel- 
 lencies, encourage their virtues, relieve their wants, 
 rejoice in their prosperities, compassionate their dis- 
 tress, receive their friendship, overlook their unkind- 
 ness, forgive their malice, be a servant of servants, 
 and condescend to do the lowest offices to the lowest 
 of mankind. 
 
 Aspire after nothing but your own purity and per- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 245 
 
 fection, and liave no ambition but to do every thing in 
 so reasonable and religious a manner^ that you may 
 be glad that God is every where present, and sees arid 
 observes all your actions. The greatest trial of hu- 
 mility is an humble behaviour towards your equals in 
 age, estate, and condit!on of life. Therefore, be care- 
 ful of all the motions of your heart towards these peo- 
 ple ; let all your behaviour towards them be governed 
 by unfeigned love. Have no desire to put any of 
 your equals below you, nor any anger at those that 
 would put themselves above you. If they are proud, 
 they are ill of a very bad distemper; let them, there- 
 fore, have your tender pity, and perhaps your meek- 
 ness may prove an occasion of their cure. But if 
 your humility should do them no good, it will however 
 be the greatest good that you can do to yourself. 
 
 Remember that there is but one man in the world, 
 with whom you are to have perpetual contention, and 
 be always striving to exceed him, and that is yourself. 
 
 The time of practising these precepts, my child, 
 will soon be over with you, the world will soon slip 
 through your hands, or rather you will soon slip 
 through it ; it seems but the other day since 1 receiv- 
 ed these same instructions from my dear fatlier, that I 
 am now leaving with you. And the God that gave me 
 ears to hear, and a heart to receive what my father 
 said unto me, will, I hope, give you grace to love and 
 follow the same instructions. 
 
 Thus did Paternus educate his son. 
 
 Can any one now think that such an education as 
 this would weaken and deject the minds of young peo- 
 ple, and deprive the world of any worthy and reason- 
 able labours? 
 
 It is so far from that, that there is nothing so likely 
 to ennoble and exalt the mind, and prepare it for the 
 inost heroical exercise of all virtues. 
 
 For who will say, that a love of God, a desire of 
 pleasing him, a love of our neighbour, a love of truth, 
 of reason and virtue, a contemplation of eternity and 
 
 K 3 - 
 
!246 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 the rewards of piety, are not stronger motives to great 
 and good actions, than a little uncertain popular 
 praise ? 
 
 On the other hand, there is nothing in reality that 
 more weakens the mind, and reduces it to meanness 
 and slavery, nothing that makes < it less master of its 
 own actions, or less capable of following reason, than 
 a love of praise and honour. 
 
 For as praise and honour are often given to things 
 and persons, where they are not due ; as that is gene- 
 rally most praised and honoured, that most gratifies 
 the humours, fashions, and vicious tempers of the 
 world ; so he that acts upon the desire of praise and 
 applause, must part with every other principle; he 
 must say black is white, put bitter for sweet, and 
 sweet for bitter, and do the meanest, basest things^ 
 in order to be applauded. 
 
 For in a corrupt world, as this is, worthy actions 
 are only to be supported by their own worth, where, 
 instead of being praised and honoured, they are most 
 often reproached and persecuted. 
 
 So that to educate children upon a motive of emu- 
 lation, or a desire of glory, in a world where glory it- 
 self is false, and most commonly given wrong, is to de- 
 stroy the natural integrity and fortitude of their minds, 
 and give them a bias which will oftener carry them to 
 base and mean, than great and worthy actions. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 247 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Shewing hoio the method of educating daugiitei'!*, 
 makes it difficnltfor them to enter into the spirit of 
 Christian humilitj/. How miser abbj they are in- 
 jured and abused hy such an Education. The 
 spirit of a better Education represented in the Cha- 
 racter oyEusebia. 
 
 THAT turn of mind, which is taug-ht and encou- 
 raged in the education of daughters, makes it exceed- 
 ing difficult for them to enter into such a sense and 
 practice of humihty, as the spirit of Christianity re- 
 quireth. 
 
 The right education of this sex is of the utmost im- 
 portance to human life. There is nothing that is 
 more desirable for the common good of all tlie world. 
 For though women do not carry on the trade and bu- 
 siness of the world, yet as they are mothers and mis- 
 tresses of families, that have for some time the care of 
 the education of their children of both sorts, they are 
 entrusted with that which is of the greatest conse- 
 quence to human life. For this reason, good or bad, 
 women are likely to do as much good or harm in the 
 world, as good or bad men in the greatest business of 
 life. 
 
 For as the health and strength, or weakness, of 
 our bodies is very much owing to their methods of 
 treating us when we were young; so the soundness or 
 folly of our minds is not less owing to those first 
 tempers and ways of thinking, which we eagerly re- 
 ceived from the love, tenderness, authority, and con- 
 stant conversation of our mothers. 
 
 As we call our first language our mother-tongue, so we 
 may as justly call out first tempers our motiicr-tem- 
 pers ; and perhaps it may be found more easy to for- 
 get the language, than to part entirely with those tem- 
 pers which we learnt in the nursery. 
 
 \i 4 
 
248 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 It is therefore much to be lamented, that this sex, 
 on whom so much depends, who have the first forming- 
 both of our bodies and our minds, are not only educa- 
 ted in pride, but in the silliest and most contemptible 
 part of it. 
 
 They are not indeed suffered to dispute with us the 
 proud prizes of arts and sciences, of learning- and elo- 
 quence, in which I have much suspicion they would 
 often prove our superiors ; but we turn them over to 
 the study of beauty and dress, and the whole world 
 conspires to make them think of nothing else. Fathers 
 and mothers, friends and relations, seem to have no 
 other wish towards the little girl, but that she may have 
 a fair skin, a fine shape, dress well, and dance to ad- 
 miration. 
 
 Now if our fondness for our persons, a desire of 
 beauty, a love of dress, be a part of pride (as surely it 
 is a most contemptible part of it), the first step to- 
 wards a woman's humihty seems to require a repen- 
 tance of her education. 
 
 For it must be owned, that, generally speaking, 
 good parents are never more fond of their daughters, 
 than when they sec them too fond of themselves, and 
 dressed in such a manner, as is a great reproach to the 
 gravity and sobriety of the Christian life. 
 
 And what makes this matter still more to be lament- 
 ed, is this, that women are not only spoiled by this 
 education, but we spoil that part of the world which 
 would otherwise furnish most instances of an eminent 
 and exalted piety. 
 
 For I believe it may be affirmed, that for the most 
 part there is a finer sense, a clearer mind, a readier 
 apprehension, and gentler dispositions in that sex, than, 
 in the other. 
 
 All which tempers, if they were truly improved by 
 proper studies and sober methods of education, would 
 in all probability carry them to greater heights of piety 
 than are to be found amongst the generality of men. 
 
 For this reason I speak to this matter with so much 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 249 
 
 openness and plainness, because it is much to be la- 
 mented^ that persons, so naturally qualified to be great 
 examples of piety, should, by an erroneous education, 
 be uiade poor and gaudy spectacles cff the greatest 
 vanity. 
 
 The church has formerly had eminent saints in that 
 sex; and it may reasonably be thought, that it is 
 purely owing to their poor and vain education, that 
 this honour of tlieir sex is, for the most part, confined 
 to former ages. 
 
 The corruption of the world indulges them in great 
 vanity ; and mankind seem to consider them in no 
 other view, than as so many painted idols, that are to 
 allure and gratify their passions ; so that if many wo- 
 men are vain, light, gewgaw creatures, they have this 
 to excuse themselves, that they are not only such as 
 their education has made them, but such as the gene- 
 rality of the world allows them to be. 
 
 But then they should consider, that the friends to 
 their vanity are no friends of theirs : they should consi- 
 der, that they are to live for themselves, that they 
 have as great a share in the rational nature as men 
 have ; that they have as much reason to pretend, and 
 as much necessity to aspire after the highest accom- 
 plishments of a Christian and solid virtue, as the grav- 
 est and wisest amongst Christian philosophers. 
 
 They should consider that they are abused and in- 
 jured, and betrayed from their only perfection, when- 
 ever they are taught, that any thing is an ornament in 
 them, that is not an ornament in the wisest amongst 
 mankind. 
 
 It is generally said, that women are naturally of lit- 
 tle and vain minds ; but this 1 look upon to be as false 
 and unreasonable, as to say, that butchers are natural- 
 ly cruel : for as their cruelty is not owning to their na- 
 ture, but to their way of life, which has changed their 
 nature ; so whatever littleness and vanity is to be ob- 
 served in the minds of women, it is like the cruelty of 
 butchers^ a temper that is wrought into them by that 
 
250 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 life which they are taught and accustomed to lead. 
 
 At least thus much must be said^ that we cannot 
 charge any thing upon their nature^ till we take care 
 that it is not perverted by their education. 
 
 And, on the other hand, if it were true that they 
 were thus naturally vain and light, then how much 
 more blameable is that education, which seems con- 
 trived to strengthen and increase this folly and weak- 
 ness of their minds ! For if it were a virtue in a wo- 
 man to be proud and vain in herself, we could hardly 
 take better means to raise this passion in her, than 
 those that are now U8cd in her education. 
 
 Matilda is a fine woman, of good breeding, great 
 sense, and much religion. She has three daughters 
 that are educated by herself. She will not trust them 
 with any one else, or at any school, for fear they 
 should learn any thing ill. She stays with the danc- 
 ing-master all the time he is with them, because she 
 will hear every thing that is said to them. She has 
 heard them read the scriptures so often, that they can 
 repeat great part of it without the book ; and there 
 is scarce a good book of devotion but you may find it 
 in their closets. 
 
 Had Matilda lived in the first ages of Christianity, 
 when it was practised in the fullness and plainness of 
 its doctrines, she had, in all probability, been one of 
 its greatest saints. But as she was born in corrupt 
 times, where she wants examples of Christian perfec- 
 tion, and hardly ever saw a piety higher than her 
 own ; so she has many defects, and communicates 
 them all to her daughters. 
 
 Matilda never was meanly dressed in her life ; and 
 nothing pleases her in dress but that which is very 
 rich and beautiful to the eye. 
 
 Her daughters see her great zeal for religion, but 
 then they see an equal earnestness for all sorts of 
 finery. They see she is not negligent of her devo- 
 tion, but then they see her more careful to preserve 
 her complexion, and to prevent those changes which 
 time and age threaten her with. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 251 
 
 They are afraid to meet her if they have missed the 
 church ; but then they are more afraid to see her, if 
 they are not laced as straight as they can possibly be. 
 
 She often shews them her own picture, which was 
 taken when their father fell in love with her. She 
 tells them how distracted he was with passion at the 
 first sight of her, and that she had never had so fine a 
 complexion but for tlie diligence of her good mother, 
 who took exceeding care of it. 
 
 Matilda is so intent upon all the arts of improving 
 their dress, that she has some new fancy almost every 
 day, and leaves no ornament untried, from the richest 
 jewel to the poorest flower. She is so nice and criti- 
 cal in her judgment, so sensible of the smallest error, 
 that the maid is often forced to dress and undress her 
 daughters three or four times in a day before she can 
 be satisfied with it. 
 
 As to the patching, she reserves that to iierself ; for, 
 she says, if they are not stuck on with judgment, they 
 are mther a prejudice than an advantage to the face. 
 
 The children see so plainly the temper of their mo- 
 ther, that they even atfect to be more pleased with 
 dress, and to be more fond of every little ornament, 
 than they really are, merely to gain her favour. 
 
 They saw their eldest sister once brouglit to her 
 tears, and her perveyseness severely reprimanded, for 
 presuming to say, that she thought it was better to 
 cover the neck, than to go so far naked as the modern 
 dress requires. 
 
 She stints them in their meals, and is very scrupu- 
 lous of what they eat and drink, and tells them how 
 many fine shapes she has seen spoiled in her time for 
 want of such care; if a pimple risi^s in their faces, 
 she is in a great fright, and they themselves are as 
 afraid to see her with it, as if they had committed some 
 great sin. 
 
 Whenever they begin to look sanguine and health- 
 ful, she calls in the assistance of the doctor; and if 
 physic, or issues, will keep the complexion from in- 
 
A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 dining to coarse or ruddy^ sbe thinks them well em- 
 ployed. 
 
 * By this means they are poor, pale, sickly, infirm 
 creatures, vapoured through want of spirits, crying- at 
 the smallest accidents, swooning away at any thing 
 that frights them, and hardly able to bear the weight 
 of their best clothes. 
 
 The eldest daughter lived as long as she could un- 
 der this discipline, and died in the twentieth year of 
 her age. 
 
 When the body was opened, it appeared that her 
 ribs had grown into her liver, and that her other en- 
 trails were much hurt by being crushed together with 
 her stays, which her mother had ordered to be twitch- 
 ed so straight, that it often brought tears into her eyes 
 whilst the maid was dressing her. 
 
 Her youngest daughter is run away with a game- 
 ster, a man of great beauty, who in dressing and danc- 
 ing has no superior, 
 
 Matilda says, she should die with grief at this acci- 
 dent, but that her conscience tells her she has contri- 
 buted nothing to it herself. She appeals to their clo- 
 sets, to their books of devotion, to testify what care 
 she has taken to establish her children in a life of solid 
 piety and devotion. 
 
 Now though I do not intend to say, that no daugh- 
 ters are brought up in a better way than this, for I 
 hope there are many that are ; yet this much 1 believe 
 may be said, that the much greater part of them are 
 not brought up so well, or accustomed to so much re- 
 ligion, as in the present instance. 
 
 Tlieir minds are turned as much to the care of their 
 beauty and dress, and the indulgence of vain desires, 
 as in the present case, without having such rules of 
 devotion to stand against it. So that if solid piety, 
 humility, and a sober sense of themselves, is much 
 wanted in that sex, it is the plain and natural conse- 
 quence of a vain and corrupt education. 
 
 And if they are often too ready to receive the first 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 253 
 
 fops, beaux, and fine dancers for their husbands ; it is 
 no wonder they should like that in men, which they 
 have been taught to admire in themselves. 
 
 And if they are often seen to lose that little religion 
 they were taught in their youth, it is no more to be 
 wondered at, than to see a little flower choked and 
 killed amongst rank weeds. 
 
 For personal pride and affectation, a delig-ht in 
 beauty and fondness of finery, are tempers that must 
 either kill all religion in the soul, or be themselves 
 killed by it ; they can no more thrive together than 
 health and sickness. 
 
 Some people that judge hastily will, perhaps, here 
 say, that I am exercising too great a severity against 
 the sex. 
 
 But more reasonable persons will easily observe, 
 that I entirely spare the sex, and only arraign their 
 education ; that 1 not only spare them, but plead their 
 interest, assert their honour, set forth their perfections, 
 commend their natural tempers, and only condemn 
 that education which is so injurious to their interests, 
 so debase* their honour, and deprives them of the be- 
 nefit of their excellent natures and tempers. 
 
 Their education, I profess, 1 cannot spare ; but the 
 only reason is, because it is their greatest enemy, be- 
 cause it deprives the world of so many blessings, and 
 the church of so many saints, as might reasonably be 
 expected from persons so formed by their natural 
 tempers to all goodness and tenderness, and so fitted 
 by the clearness and brightness of their minds, to 
 contemplate, love, and admire every thing that is holy, 
 virtuous, and divine. 
 
 If it should here be said, that I even charge too high 
 upon their education, and that they are not so much 
 hurt by it, as 1 imagine : 
 
 It may be answered, that though I do not pretertd 
 to state the exact degree of mischief that is done by 
 it, yet its plain and natural tendency to do harm, is 
 sufficient tojustify the most absolute condemnutiou of it. 
 
254 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 But if any one would know how, generally, women 
 are hurt by this education ; if he ima^nes there may 
 be no personal pride, or vain fondness of themselves, 
 in those that ai-e {patched and dressed out with so much 
 glitter of art and ornament : 
 
 Let him only make the following experiment where- 
 ever he pleases. 
 
 Let him only acquaint any such woman with his. 
 opinion of her ; I do not mean that he should tell her 
 to her face, or do it in any rude public manner ; but 
 let him contrive the most civil, secret, friendly way, 
 that he can think of only to let her know his opinion, 
 that he thinks she is neither handsome, nor dresses 
 well, nor becomes her finery ; and I dare say, he will 
 find there are but very few fine dressed women, that 
 will like him never the worse for his bare opinion, 
 though known to none but themselves ; and that he 
 will not be long without seeing the effects of her re- 
 sentment. 
 
 But if such an experiment would -shew him that 
 there are but few such women that could bear with 
 his friendship, after they knew he had such an opini- 
 on of them, surely it is time to complain of, and ac- 
 cuse that education, which so generally corrupts their 
 hearts. 
 
 For though it is hard to judge of the hearts of peo- 
 ple, yet where they declare their resentment and un- 
 easiness at any thing, there they pass the judgment 
 upon themselves. If a woman cannot forgive a man 
 who thinks siic has no beauty, nor any ornament 
 from her dress, there she infallibly discovers the state 
 of her own heurt, and is condemned by her own, and 
 not another's judgment. 
 
 For we never are angry at others, but when their 
 opinions of us are contrary to that which we have of 
 <;ur.^elves. 
 
 A man that makes no pretence to scholarship, is 
 never angry at those that do not take him to be a 
 scholar : so if a woman had no opinion of h^r own 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 255 
 
 person and dress, she would never be angry at those, 
 who are of the same opinion with herself. 
 
 So that the general bad elfects of this education are 
 too much known, to admit of any reasonable doubt. 
 
 But how possible it is to bring up daughters in a 
 more excellent way, let the following character de- 
 clare. 
 
 Eusebia is a pious widow, well born, and well bred, 
 and has a good estate for five daughters, whom she 
 brings up as one instructed by God, to fit five virgins 
 for the kingdom of heaven. Her family has the same 
 regulation as a religious house, and all its orders tend 
 to the support of a constant regular devotion. 
 
 S!ie, her daughters, and her maids, meet together 
 at all the hours of prayer in the day, and chaunt 
 psalms and other devotions, and spend the rest of their 
 time in such good works, and innocent diversions, as 
 render tliem fit to return to their psalms and prayers. 
 
 She loves them as her spiritual children, and they 
 reverence her as their spiritual mother, with an af- 
 fection far above that of the fondest friends. 
 
 She has divided part of her estate amongst them, 
 that every one may be charitable out of their own 
 stock, and each of them take it in their turns to pro- 
 vide for the poor and sick of the ])arish. 
 
 Eusebia brings them up to ail kinds of labour that 
 are proper for women, as sewing, knitting, spinning, 
 and all otiier parts of housewifery ; not for their amuse- 
 ment, Init that tliey may be serviceable to themselves 
 and others, and be saved from those temptations which 
 attend an idle life. 
 
 She tells them, she had rather see them reduced to 
 tlie necessity of maintaining themselves by their own 
 work, than to have riches to excuse themselves from 
 labour. For though, says she, you may be able to 
 assist the poor without your labour, yet by your la- 
 bour you will be able to assist them more. 
 
 If Eusebia has lived as free from sin as it is possible 
 for human nature, it is because she is always watching 
 
256 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 and ^uardin^ against all instances of pride. And if 
 her virtues are stronger and higher than other peo- 
 ple's, it is because they are all founded in a deep hu- 
 mility. 
 
 My children, says she, when your father died, I was 
 much pitied by my friends, as having all the care of a 
 family, and the management of an estate fallen upon me. 
 
 But my own grief was founded upon another prin- 
 ciple : I was grieved to see myself deprived of so faith- 
 ful a friend, and that such an eminent example of 
 Christian virtues, should be taken from the eyes of 
 his children before they we^e of an age to love and 
 follow it. 
 
 But as to worldly cares, which my friends thought 
 90 heavy upon me, they are most of them of our own 
 making, and fall away as soon as we know ourselves. 
 
 If a person in a dream is disturbed with strange ap- 
 pearances, his trouble is over as soon as he is awake, 
 and sees that it was the folly of his dream. 
 
 Now when a ri^ht knowledge of ourselves enters 
 into our mind.«t, it makes as great a change in all our 
 thoughts and apprehensions, as when wc awake from 
 the wanderings of a dream. 
 
 We acknowledge a man to be mad or melancholy, 
 who fancies himself to be glass, and so is afraid of 
 stirring ; or, taking himself to be wax, dare not let the 
 sun shine upon him. 
 
 But, my children, there are things in the world 
 which pass for wisdom, politeness, grandeur, happi- 
 oess, and fine breeding, which shew as great ignorance 
 of ourselves, and might as justly pass for thorough 
 madness, as when a man fancies himself to be glass, 
 er ice. 
 
 A woman that dares not app.ear in the world without 
 fine clothes, that thinks it a happiness to have a face 
 finely coloured, to have a skin delicately fair, that had 
 rather die than be reduced to poverty, and be forced 
 to work for a poor maintenance, is as ignorant of her- 
 self to the full, as he that fancies himself to be glass. 
 
Contents. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 PAG£ 
 
 Concerning the nature and extent of Christian Devotion 1 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 An enquiry into the reason, why the generality of Christians 
 
 fall so short of the Holiness and Devotion of Christianity 1 1 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the great danger and folly of not intending to be as emi- 
 nent and exemplary as we can, in the practice of all 
 Christian Virtues . . . . .20 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 We can please God in no state or condition of life, but by 
 
 intending and devoting it all to his honour and glory . 32 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Persons that are free from the necessity of labour and em- 
 ployments, are to consider themselves as devoted to God 
 in a higher degree . . . , . 4S 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Containing the great obligations, and the great advantages, 
 of making a wisa and religious use of our Estates and 
 Fortunes . . . . . . 56 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 JIow the imprudent use of an estate corrupts all the tempers 
 of the mind, and fiUi the heart with poor and ridiculons 
 
 c 
 
XXXIV CONTENTS. 
 
 VAGB 
 
 passions through the whole course of life ; represented in 
 
 the Character of Flavia . . . .66 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 How the wise and pious use of an estate naturally carrieth 
 us to great perfection in all the Virtues of the Christian 
 Life ; represented in the Character of Miranda , 73 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Containing some reflections upon the Life oi Miranda ; and 
 shewing how it may, and ought to be imitated by all her 
 sex . . . . . . . 84 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Shewing how all orders and ranks of men and women, of all 
 
 ages, are obliged to devote themselves unto God , 99 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Shewing how great Devotion fills our Lives with the greatest 
 
 peace and happiness that can be enjoyed in this world . 1 16c 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 The happiness of a Life wholly devoted unto God, farther 
 proved, from the vanity, the sensuality, and the ridicu- 
 lous, poor enjoyments, which they are forced to take up 
 with, who live according to their own humours. This 
 represented in various Characters . . » 13J 
 
 CHAP. xiir. 
 
 That not only a Life of Vanity, or Sensuality, but even the 
 most regular kind of life, that is not governed by a great 
 devotion, sufficiently shews its miseries, its wants, and 
 emptiness, to the eyes of all the world. This represented 
 in various Characters .... 147 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Concerning that part of devotion, which relates to Times 
 and Hours of Prayer. Of daily early Prayer in the 
 Morning. How we are to improve our Forms of Prayer, 
 and how to increase the Spirit of Devotio;i . • 164 
 
CONTENTS. XXXV 
 
 CHAP. Xt. 
 
 Of chanting or singing of Psalms in our private devotions. 
 Of the excellency and benefit of this kind of dcTotion. 
 Of the great effect* it hath upon our hearts. Of the 
 means of performing it in the best manner . .186 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Recommending Devotion at nine o'clock in the morning, 
 called in Scripture the third hour of the day. The sub- 
 ject of these prayers is Humility . . . 204 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Shewing how difficult the practice of humility is made, by 
 the general spirit and temper of the world. How Chris- 
 tianity requireth us to live contrary to the world . 217 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 Shewing how the education which men generally receive in 
 their youth makes the doctrine of humility difficult to be 
 practised. The spirit of a better education represented 
 in the character of Pa^ernw* . . .231 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 Shewing how the method of educating Daughters makes it 
 difficult for them to enter into the spirit of Christian 
 humility. How miserably they are injured and abused 
 by such an education. The spirit of a better education 
 represented in the Character of Eusebia , , 247 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Recommending Devotion at twelve o'clock, called in Scrip- 
 ture the sixth hour of the day. This frequency of devo- 
 tion equally desirable by all orders of people. Universal 
 Love is here recommended to be the subject of prayer at 
 this hour. Of intercession, as an act of universal love 269 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 Of the necessity and bene6t of Intercession, considered as 
 an exercise of universal love. How all orders of men 
 
XXXVl CONTENTS. 
 
 TA6K 
 
 are to pray and intercede with God for one another. 
 How naturally such intercession amends and reforms the 
 hearts of those that use it ... . . 292, 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 Recommending Devotion at three o'clock, called in Scrip- 
 ture the ninth hour of the day. The subject of prayer, 
 at this hour, is Resignation to the Divine Pleasure. The 
 nature and duty of Conformity to the Will of God in all 
 our actions and designs . , , 311 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 Of Evening Prayer. Of the nature and necessity of Ex- 
 amination. How we are to be particular in the Confes- 
 sion of all our Sins. How we are to fill our minds with 
 a just horror and dread of all Sin . . 325 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 The Conclusion. Of the Excellency and greatness of a 
 
 devout Spirit . . . , 339 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LlFE. 257 
 
 For this reason, all my discourse with you has been 
 to acquaint you with yourselves, and to accustom you 
 to such books and devotions, as may best instruct yoii 
 in this greatest of all knovvled"e. 
 
 You would think it hard^ not to know the famjiy 
 into which you was born^ what ancestors you were 
 descended from, and what estate was to come to you. 
 13ut, my children, you may know all this with exact- 
 ness^ and yet be as ii;norant of yourselves^ as he that 
 takes himself to be wax. 
 
 For thoug'h you were all of you born of my body, 
 and bear your father's name, yet you are all of you 
 pure spirits. I do not mean that you have not bodies 
 that want meat, and drink, and sleep, and clothing, but 
 that all that deserves to be called you, is nothing- else 
 but spirit. A being- spiritual and rational in its na- 
 ture, that is as contrary to all fleshly or corporeal be- 
 ings, as life is contrary to death ; that is made in the 
 image of God, to live for ever, never to cease any 
 more, but to enjoy life, and reason, and knowledge, 
 and happiness in tike presence of God, in the society 
 of angels, and glorious spirits, to all eternity. 
 
 Every thing that you call yours, besides this spirit, 
 is but like your clothing : something that is only to be 
 used for a while^ and then to end^ and die, and wear 
 away, and to signify no more to you, than the cloth- 
 ing and bodies of other people. 
 
 But, my children, you are not only in this manner 
 spirits, but you are fallen spirits, that began your life 
 in a state of corruption and disorder, full of tempers 
 and passions, that blind and darken the reason of your 
 mind, and incline you to that which is hurtful. 
 
 Your bodies are not only poor and perishing like 
 your clothes, but they ai^ like infected clothes, that 
 fill you with all diseases and distempers, which oppress 
 the soul with sickly appetites and vain cravings. 
 
 So that all of us are like two beings, that have, as it 
 were, two hearts within us : with the one we see, and 
 taste, and reason, and admire purity and holiness ; 
 
 s 
 
S58 A RKUI()II« < VLl- TO A 
 
 vvitli (lie otiior uf iiiclim' to pride, and vanity, and 
 Bcnsiuil deli«^lii.s. 
 
 "^riiis inlc^iiiiil wnr wc iilvvnys Iccl williin us move or 
 less; :ind if yon would know ihv one llun^- nefessiiry 
 lo all the world, it is this; to ])reserve luul perfect iiil 
 (JKit is nitionnl, lioly, and divine in (knr nature, and to 
 mortily, remove, and destroy all that vanity, ])ride, and 
 sensuality, which spring's from the corruption of our 
 state. 
 
 Conid yon Ihink, my children, when you look at 
 the world, and see what customs, and fashions, and 
 pleasures, and troubles, and |)rojects, and temp<Ms, 
 employ ihe hearts and time of mankind, that thin«;s 
 were thus, as I have told you/ 
 
 IJut do not you he alfected at these thin«i,s, the 
 world is in a ^reat dream, and but few people arc 
 awake in it. 
 
 We fancy that we fall into darkness, when we die ; 
 but alas, we arc nujst of us in the daik till then ; and 
 the eyes of our souls oidy then bei;in to see, when our 
 bodily eyes are closing-. 
 
 Y(»u see then your state, my < hililren ; you aie to 
 honour, iniprove, and perfect tlu^ spirit that is within 
 you,\ou are to |)repare it for the kingdom ol" heaven, 
 to nourish it with (he love of (iod, and of virtue, to 
 adorn it wi(h i;()o(l works, unci lo make it as holy and 
 Iwavenly as you can. \ Ou are '.o |)reserve it iVom 
 the errors and vanities of the world, (.o save it from 
 the corru[)tions (d' the body, from those false dcli^lds, 
 and sensual lempers, whi<h (he body (emp(s it with. 
 
 Vou are to nourish \our sj)iri(s with picnis read- 
 ini;s, and holy me(lila(ions, wi(h wa(chini;s, fas(ini;s, 
 and prayers, (hat you may (asle. and relish, and de- 
 sire, (ha( e(ernal s(a(t«, wliich is (o l)ei;in when this 
 life ends. 
 
 As (o your bodies, you are (o C(>nsider (hem as poor, 
 
 (perishiuf;- thinj;s, (ha( are sickly and corrupt at pre- 
 
 'Hcn(,and will s«»on droj) into connnon dust. You are 
 
 tuvviitch over them as enemies, (hat aro always tryinj;* 
 
Dl'.VOl T V\J) UOIV I. IKE. 259 
 
 lo tempt and botiay yon, ami so novor lollovv tluMrml- 
 vice and counsel ; you air to consider them as the 
 place and hahiiahon «>! your soals. and so keep them 
 pare, and clean, ami decent ; v<ni are to consider 
 them as the servants and instrninents of action, and so 
 {•ivt* tin in lood. and rest, and raiment, tiiat tliey may / 
 be slron;;aml heailhCid todo tliethities ol" a charilahie, ^ 
 usel'nl. pious life. 
 
 Whilst you live thus, \un live like \onrsel\es; ;iii(l 
 whenever yon have less re:;-ard to your siads, or more 
 re«»ard to your bodies, than this crimes to ; whenever 
 y«>u are nn)re intent upon adorninj;- your persons, than 
 jipon perieclini;' olvonr souls, yon are much ntor*' be- 
 side yourselves, tlain he, (liat had rather have a laced 
 coat than an heat(hrul body. 
 
 b\)V this reason, my children, I have tnut;ht you no- 
 ihin<>' that was dangerous for you to learn : 1 have 
 kej)t you IVom every thiui;- that mi:;ht betray you into 
 weakness and lolly ; or make you think any thinj; line 
 but a line mind ; any thim;- ha])py but the favour of 
 (joil ; or any thiuji;' desirable but to do all the i;()od 
 you possibly can. 
 
 instead of the vain, imnnulest (MitertainnuMit of 
 ])lavsan(l operas, I huve taui;ht v«)U to delii;ht in visit- 
 in:;- the sick and poor. \\ hat music, iind dancini;', 
 and diversions are to many in the world, that prayers, 
 and devotions, and psalms are to you. ^ i»ur IkmuIh 
 have not been employed in plait in<^' the hair, and 
 udornin";- your persons ; but in nud\in<;- clotlu's for the 
 naked. \ On have not wasted \(h\\' lortinu's upon 
 yourselves, but. have -.idded ytuir labour to tlnin, todo 
 luoi'e i^ood to other pi'ople 
 
 Instead of forced shapes, piitched faces, ^t-nteel 
 nirs, and alVected motions, I have taught you to con- 
 ceal your bixlies with nnxlest •garments, and let tlu» 
 world have nothing to view of you, but the plainness 
 and sincerity, and humility of all your behavi(uir. 
 
 Y^ou know, niy < hildr«'n, the hi^li perfection, and 
 the great rewards of virginity ; you kiu>w how it 
 
 »2 
 
260 A SEUIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 frees from worldly cares and troubles^ and furnislies 
 means and opportunities of liie,lier advancement in a ' 
 divine life ; therefore^ love, and esteem^ and honour 
 virginity ; bless God for all that glorious company of 
 holy virgins^ that from the beginning of Christianity, 
 havCj in the several ages of the church, renounced the 
 cares and pleasures of matrimony, to be perpetual ex- 
 amples of soliUide, contemplation, ajid prayer. 
 
 liut as every one has their proper gift from God, as 
 1 look upon you all to be so many great blessings of a 
 married state; so I leave it to your choice either to 
 do as 1 Iiave done, or to aspire after higher degrees of 
 perfection in a virgin state of life. 
 
 I desire nothing, I press nothing upon you, but to 
 make the most of human life, and to aspire after per- 
 fection in whatever state of life you chuse. 
 
 Never therefore consider yourseives as persons that 
 are to be seen, admired, and courted by men; but as 
 poor sinners, that are to save yourselves from the va- 
 nities and follies of a miserable world, by humility, de- 
 votion, and self-denial. Lrearn to live for your own 
 sakes, and the service of God, and let nothing in the 
 world be of any value with you, but that which you can 
 turn into a service to God, and a medns of your future 
 happiness. 
 
 Consider often how poweifaily you are called to a 
 virtuous life, and what great and gioiious things God 
 has doiie for you, to make you in love with every 
 thing that can promote ins glory. 
 
 Think upon the vanity and shortness of human 
 life, and let deatli and eternity be often in your 
 minds: for these thonghts will strengthen and exalt 
 your minds, make you wise and judicious, and truly 
 sensible of the littleness of human things. 
 
 Think of t!ie happiness of prophets and apostles, 
 saints and martyrs, wlio are now rejoicing in the pre- 
 .sence of God, and see themselves possessors of eter- 
 nal glory. And then think how. desirable a thing it i&, 
 to watch and pray, and do good as they did, that when 
 you die you may have your lot amongst them. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 261. 
 
 Whether married therefore or unmarried^ consider 
 yourselves as mothers and sisters, as friends and rela- 
 tions to all that want your assistance ; and never allow 
 yourselves to be idle, whilst others are in want of any 
 thing" that your hands can make for them. 
 
 This useful, charitable, humble employment of 
 yourselves, is what I recommend to you with great 
 earnestness, as being- a substantial part of a wise and 
 pious life. And besides the good you will thereby do 
 to other people, every virtue of your own heart will 
 be very much improved by it. 
 
 For next to reading, meditation, and prayer, there 
 is nothing that so secures pur hearts from foolish pas- 
 sions, nothing that preserves so holy and wise a frame 
 of mind, as some useful, humble, employment of our- 
 selves. 
 
 Never therefore consider your labour as an amuse- 
 ment, that is to get rid of your time, and so may be as 
 trifling as you please ; but consider it as something 
 that is to be serviceable to yourselves and others, that 
 is to serve some sober ends of life, to save and redeem 
 your time, and make it turn to your account, when the 
 works of all people shall be tried by lire. 
 
 When you was little, I left you to little amusements, 
 to please yourselves in any things that were free from 
 harm ; but as you are now grown up to a knowledge 
 of God, and yourselves ; as your minds are now ac- 
 quainted with the worth and value of virtue, and ex- 
 alted with the great doctrines of religion, you are now 
 to do nothing as children, but despise every thing that 
 is poor, or vain, and imp-ertinent ; you are now to 
 make the labours of your hands suitable to the piety of 
 your hearts, and employ yourselves for the same ends, 
 and with the same spirit, as you watch and pray. 
 
 For if there is any good to be done by your labour, 
 if you can possibly employ yourselves usefully to other 
 people, how silly is it, \v)\v contrary to the wisdom of 
 religion to make that a mere amusement, which might 
 as easily be made an exercise of the greatest charity ! 
 
 s3 
 
263 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 What would you think of the wisdom of him, that 
 should employ his time in distilling of waters, and 
 making- liquors which nobody could use, merely to 
 amuse himself with the variety of their colour and 
 clearness, when, with less labour and expense, he 
 might satisfy the wants of those who have nothing to 
 drink. 
 
 Yet he would be as wisely employed, as those that 
 are amusing themselves with such tedious works as 
 they neither need, nor hardly know how to use them 
 when they are finished ; when with less labour and 
 expense they might be doing as much good, as he that 
 is clothing the naked, or visiting the sick. 
 
 Begird, therefore, to know the wants of the poor- 
 est people, and let your hands be employed in making 
 such mean and ordinary things for them, as their ne- 
 cessities require. By thus making your labour a gift 
 ^nd service to the poor, your ordinary work will be 
 changed into a holy service, and made as acceptable 
 to God as your devotions. 
 
 And as charity is the greatest of all virtues, as it al- 
 ways was the chief temper of the greatest saints ; so 
 nothing- can make your ow n charity more amiable in 
 the sight of God, than this method of adding your la- 
 bour to it. 
 
 The humility also of this employment will be as be- 
 neficial to you, as the charity of it. It will keep you 
 from all vain and proud thoughts of your own state 
 and distinction in life, and from treating the poor as 
 creatures of a different species. By accustoming 
 yourselves to this labour and service to the poor, as 
 the representatives of Jesus Christ, you will soon find 
 your hearts softened into the greatest meekness and 
 lowlinesg towards them. You will reverence their 
 estate and condition, think it an honoiu'to serve them, 
 and never be so pleased with yourselves as when you 
 are most humbly employed in their service. 
 
 This will make you true disciples of your meek^ 
 Lord and Master^ who came into the loorld not to be 
 
DEVOUT AND HDLY UFE. 263 
 
 2)unistered unto, hut to minister ; and though he was 
 Lord of all, and amongst the creatures of his own 
 making-, yet was amongst them as one that serveth. 
 
 Christianity has then had its most glorious eftects 
 upon your hearts, when it has thus changed your spirit^ 
 removed all the pride of life from you, and made you 
 delight in humbling* yourselves beneath the lowest of 
 all your fellow-creatures. 
 
 Live, therefore, my children, as you have begun 
 your lives, in humbler labour for the good of others ; 
 and let ceremonious visits, and vain acquaintances, 
 have as li((le of your time as you possibly can. Con- 
 tract no foolish friendships, or vain fondnesses for par- 
 ticular persons ; but love them most, that most turn 
 your love towards God, and your compassion towards 
 all the world. 
 
 But, above all, avoid the conversation of fine bred 
 fops and beaux, and hate nothing mt)re than the idle 
 discourse, the flattery and compliments of that sort of 
 men ; for they are the shame of their own sex, and 
 ought to be the abhorrence of yours. 
 
 When you go abroad, let humility, modesty, and a 
 decent carriage, be all the state that you take upon 
 you ; and let tenderness, compassion, and good na- 
 ture, be all the fine breeding that you shew in any 
 place. 
 
 If evil speaking, scandal, or backbiting, be the con- 
 versation where you happen to be, keep your heart 
 and your tongue to yourself; be as much grieved as if 
 you was amongst cursing and swearing, and retire as 
 .soon as you can. 
 
 Though you intend to marry, yet let the time never 
 come till you find a man tlmt has those perfections, 
 which you have been labouring after yourselves ; who 
 is likely to be a friend to all your virtues, and with 
 whom it is better to live, than to want the benefit of 
 his example. 
 
 Love poverty, anf! reverence poor people ; as for 
 many reasons, so particularly for this, because our 
 
 s 4 
 
264 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 blessfed Saviour was one of the number^ and because 
 you may make them all so many friends and advocates 
 with God for you. 
 
 Visit and converse with them frequently ; you will 
 often find simplicity, innocence, patience, fortitude, 
 and great piety amongst them ; and where they are 
 iiot so, your good example may amend them. 
 
 Rejoice at every opportunity of doing an humble 
 action, and exercising the meekness of your minds ; 
 whether it be, as the Scripture expresses it, in wash- 
 ing the saints' feet, that is, in waiting upon, and serv- 
 ing those that are below you ; or in bearing with the 
 haughtiness and ill manners of those that are your 
 equals, or above you. For there is nothing better 
 than humility ; it is the fruitful soil of all virtues; and 
 every thing that is kind and good naturally grows 
 from it. 
 
 Therefore, my children, pray for, and practise hu- 
 mility, and reject every thing in dress, or carriage, or 
 conversation, that has any appearance of pride. 
 
 Strive to do every thing that is praise-worthy, but 
 do nothing in order to be praised ; nor think of any 
 reward for all your labours of love and virtue, till 
 Christ Cometh with all his holy angels. 
 
 And, above all, my children, have a care of vain 
 and proud thoughts of your own virtues. For as sooh 
 as ever people live different from the common way of 
 the world, and despise its vanities, the devil represents 
 to their minds the heights of their own perfections ; 
 and is content they should excel in good works, pro- 
 vided that he can but make them proud of them. 
 
 Therefore, watcli over your virtues with a jealous 
 eye, and reject every vain thought, as you would re- 
 ject the most wicked imaginations ; and think what a 
 loss it would be to you, to have the fruit of all your 
 good works devoured by the vanity of your own 
 minds. 
 
 Never, therefore, allow yourselves to despise those 
 who do not follow your rules of life ; but force your 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 265 
 
 hearts to love them, and pray to God for them ; and 
 let humility be ahvays whispering- it into your ears, 
 that you yourselves will fall from those rules to-mor- 
 row, if God should leave you to your own strength 
 and wisdom. 
 
 When, therefore, you have spent days and weeks 
 well, do not sutfer your hearts to contemplate any 
 thing as your own, but give all the glory to the good- 
 ness of God, who has carried you through such rules 
 of holy living", as you were not able to observe by 
 your own strength ; and take care to begin the next 
 day, not as proficients in virtue, that can do great mat- 
 ters, but as poor beginners, that want the daily assist- 
 ance of God to save you from the grossest sins. 
 
 Your dear father was an humble, watchful, pious, 
 wise man. Whilst his sickness would suffer him to 
 talk with me, his discourse was chiefly about your 
 education. He knew the benefits of humility, he saw 
 the ruins which pride made in our sex ; and, there- 
 fore, he conjured me, with the tenderest expressions, 
 to renounce the fashionable way of educating daugh- 
 ters in pride and softness, in the care of their beauty 
 and dress; and to bring you all up in the plainest, 
 simplest instances of an humble, holy, and industrious 
 life. 
 
 He taught me an admirable rule of humility, which 
 he practised all the days of his life ; which was this : 
 to let no morning pass without thinking upon some 
 frailty and infirmity of our own, that may put us to 
 confusion, make us blush inwardly, and entertain a 
 mean opinion of ourselves. 
 
 Think, therefore, my children, that the soul of your 
 good father, who is now with God, speaks to you 
 through my mouth; and let the double desire of your 
 father, who is gone, and I, who am with you, prevail 
 upon y<^u to love God, to study your onn perfection, 
 to practise humility, and, with innocent labour and 
 charity, to do all the good that you can to all jour fel- 
 low-creatures, till God calls you to another life. . 
 
^66 A SERIOUS CALL TO k 
 
 Thus did the pious widow educate her daughters. 
 
 The spirit of this education speaks so plainly for it- 
 self, thatj I hope^ 1 need say nothing in its justifica- 
 tion. If we could see it in life^ as well as read of it 
 in books^ the world would soon find the happy eftects 
 of it. 
 
 A daughter thus educated would be a blessing to 
 any family that she came into ; a fit companion for a 
 wise man, and make him happy in the government of 
 his family, and the education of his children. 
 
 And she that either was not inclined^ or could not 
 dispose of herself well in marriage, would know how 
 to live to great and excellent ends in a state of vir- 
 ginity. 
 
 A very ordinary knowledge of the spirit of Christi- 
 anity, seems to be enough to convince us, that no edu- 
 cation can be of true advantage to young women, but 
 that which trains them up in humble industry, in great 
 plainness of life, in exact modesty of dress, manners, 
 and carriage, and in strict devotion. For what should 
 a Christian woman be but a plain, unaffected, modesty 
 humble creature, averse to every thing, in her dress 
 and carriage, that can draw the eyes of beholders, or 
 gratify the passions of lewd and amorous persons? 
 
 How great a stranger must he be to the gospel, who 
 does not know that it requires this to be the spirit of 
 a pious woman ! 
 
 Our blessed Saviour saith. Whosoever looketh upon 
 a woman to lust after her, hath already committed 
 aduUery with her in his heart. St. Matt. v. 28. 
 
 Need an education, which turns women's minds to 
 the arts and ornaments of dress and beauty, be more 
 strongly condemned, than by these words? For sure- 
 ly, if the eye is so easily and dangerously betrayed, 
 every art and ornament is sufficiently condemned, that 
 naturally tends to betray it. 
 
 And how can a woman of piety more justly abhor 
 and avoid any thing, than that which makes her per- 
 son more a snare and temptation to other people ? If 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 267 
 
 lust and Avanton eyes are the death of the soul, can 
 any women think themselves innocent, who, with na- 
 ked breasts, patched faces, and every ornament of 
 dress, invite the eye to offend? 
 
 And as there is no pretence for innocence in such a 
 behaviour, so neither can they tell how to set any 
 bounds to their guilt. For as they can never know 
 how much, or how often they have occasioned sin in 
 other people, so they can never know how much guilt 
 will be placed to their own account. 
 
 This, one would think, should sufficiently deter 
 every pious woman from every thing that might ren- 
 der her the occasion of loose passions in other people. 
 
 St. Paul, speaking of a thing, entirely innocent, rea- 
 sons after this manner : But take heed, test by anif 
 means this liberti/ of yours become a stumbling-block 
 to those that are weak. — And through thy knoidedge 
 thy weak brother perish, for ichom Christ died. But 
 when ye sin so against the brethren, and wound their 
 weak conscience, ye sin against Christ. Wherefore, 
 if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh 
 while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to 
 offend, 1 Cor. viii. 9 — 13. 
 
 Now if this is the spirit of Christianity ; if it re- 
 quires us to abstain from things thus lawful, innocent, 
 and useful, when there is any danger of betraying our 
 weak brethren into an error thereby : surely it can- 
 not be reckoned too nice or needless a point of con- 
 science, for women to avoid such things, as are nei- 
 ther innocent nor useful, but naturally tend to corrupt 
 their own hearts, and raise ill passions in other people. 
 
 Surely every woman of Christian piety ought to say, 
 in the spirit of the apostle, if patching and paint, or 
 any vain adorning of my person, be a natural means 
 of making weak, unwary eyes to ofi'end, I will re- 
 nounce all these arts as long as I live, lest 1 should 
 make my fellow-creatures to offend. 
 
 I shall now leave this subject of humility ; having 
 said enough, as I hope, to recommend the necessity 
 
Z6S A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 of making it the constant^ chief subject of your devo- 
 tion at this hour of prayer. 
 
 I have considered the nature and necessity of humi- 
 lity ;, and its great importance to a rehgious hfe. I 
 have shewn you how many difficulties are formed 
 against it from our natural tempers^ the spirit of the 
 worlds and the common education of both sexes. 
 
 These considerations will^ I hope, instruct you 
 how to form your prayers for it to the best advantage; 
 and teach you the necessity of letting no day pass, 
 without a serious, earnest application to God, for the 
 whole spirit of humility. Fervently beseeching him 
 to fill every part of your soul with it, to make it the 
 ruling, constant habit of your mind, that you may not 
 only feel it, but feel all your other tempers arising 
 from it ; that you may have no thoughts, no desires, 
 no designs, but such as are the true fruits of an hum- 
 ble, meek, and lowly heart. 
 
 That you may always appear poor, and little, and 
 mean in your own eyes, and fully content that others 
 should have the same opinion of you. 
 
 That the whole course of your life, your expence, 
 your house, your dress, your manner of eating, drink- 
 ing, conversing, and doing every thing, may be so 
 many continual proofs of the true unfeigned humility 
 of your heart. 
 
 That you may look for nothing, claim nothing, re- 
 sent nothing ; that you may go through all the actions 
 and accidents of life calmly and quietly, as in the pre- 
 sence of God, looking wholly unto him, acting wholly 
 for him ; neither seeking vain applause, nor resenting 
 neglects or affronts, but doing and receiving every 
 thingi n the meek and lowly spirit of our Lord and Sa- 
 viour Jesus Christ. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Recommending Devotion at twelve o'clock, called in 
 Scripture the sixth hour of the day. Thefrequencj/ 
 of devotion equalfj/ desirable by all orders of peo- 
 ple. Universal love is here recommended to be the 
 subject of prayer at this hour. Of intercession^ as 
 an act of universal love. 
 
 IT will perhaps be thought by some people, that 
 these hours of prayer come too thick ; that they can 
 only be observed by people of great leisure, and ought 
 not to be pressed upon the generality of men, who 
 have the cares of families, trades, and employments ; 
 nor upon the gentry, whoso state and figure in the 
 world cannot admit of this frequency of devotion. And 
 that it is only fit for monasteries and nunneries, or 
 such people as have no more to do in the world than 
 they have. 
 
 To this it i» answered, 
 
 First, That this method of devotion is not pressed 
 upon any sort of people, as absolutely necessary, but 
 r^'commended to all people, as the best, tiie happiest, 
 and most perfect way of life. 
 
 And if a great and exemplary devotion is as much 
 the greatest happiness and perfection of a merchant, 
 a soldier, or a man of quality, as it is the greatest hap- 
 piness and perfection of the most retired contempla- 
 tive life, then it is as proper to recommend it without 
 any abatements to one order of men as to another. 
 Because happiness and perfection are of tlie same 
 worth and value to all people. 
 
 The gentleman and tradesman may, and must spend 
 much of their time differently from the pious monk in 
 the cloister, or the contemplative hermit in the desart : 
 But then, as the monk and hermit lose the ends of re- 
 tirement, unless they make it all serviceable to devo- 
 tion ; so the gentleman and merchant fail of the great- 
 
S70 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 est ends of a social life^ and live to tlieir loss in the 
 \vorld_, unless devotion be their chief and governing 
 temper. 
 
 It is certainly very honest and creditable for people 
 to engage in trades and employments ; it is reason- 
 able for gentlemen to manage well their estates and 
 families^, and such recreations as are proper to their 
 state. But then every gentleman and tradesman loses 
 the greatest happiness of his creation^ is robbed of 
 something that is greater than all employments^ dis- 
 tinctions^ and pleasures of the worlds if he does not 
 live more to piety and devotion,, than to any thing else 
 in the world. 
 
 Here are^ therefore^ no excuses made for men of 
 business and figure in the world. Firsts Because it 
 \vould be to excuse them from that which is the great- 
 est end of living ; and be only finding so many rea- 
 sons for making them less beneficial to themselves, 
 and less serviceable to God and the world. 
 
 Secondly, Because most men of business and figure 
 engage too far in worldly matters ; much farther than 
 tlie reasons of hunian life, or the necessities of the 
 world require. 
 
 Merchants and tradesmen, for instance, are genfi- 
 rally ten times farther engaged in business than they 
 need; which is so far from being a reasonable excuse 
 for their want of time for devotion, that it is their 
 crime, and must be censured as a blameable instance of 
 covetousness and ambition. 
 
 The gentry, and people of figure, either give them- 
 selves up to state employments, or to the gratifications 
 of their passions in a life of gaiety and debauchery ; 
 and if these things might be admitted as allowable 
 avocations from devotion, devotion must be reckoned 
 a poor circumstance of life. 
 
 Unless gentlemen can shew that they have another 
 God tiian the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ ; ano- 
 ther nature than that which is derived from Adam ; 
 another religion than the Christian, it is in vain to 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. S71 
 
 plead their state, and dignity, and pleasures, as rea- 
 sons lor not preparing their souls for God, by a strict 
 and reg'ular devotion. 
 
 For since piety and devotion are the common un- 
 changeable means of saving all the souls in the world 
 that shall be saved, there is nothing left for the gen- 
 tleman, the soldier, and the tradesman, but to take 
 care that their several states be, by care and watch- 
 fulness, by meditation and prayer, madd states of an 
 exact and solid piety. 
 
 If a merchant, having forbore from too great busi- 
 ness, that he might quietly atiend on the service of 
 God, should therefore die worth twenty, instead of 
 fifty thousand pounds, could any one say that he had 
 mistaken his calling, or gone a loser out of the world? 
 
 If a gentleman should have killed fewer foxes, been 
 less frequent at balls, gaming, and merry-meetings, 
 becausb stated parts of his time had been given to re- 
 tirement, to meditation, and devotion, could it be 
 thought, that when he left the world, he would regret 
 the loss of those hours that he had given to the care 
 and improvement of his soul? 
 
 If a tradesman, by aspiring after Christian perfec- 
 tion, and retiring himself often from his business, 
 should, instead of leaving his children fortunes to spend 
 in luxury and idleness, leave them to live by their own 
 honest labour ; could it be said that he had made a 
 wrong use of the world, because he had shewn his 
 children, that he had more regard to that which is 
 eternal, than to this which is soon to be at an end. 
 
 Since, therefore, devotion is not only the best and 
 most desirable practice in a cloister, but the best and 
 most desirable practice of men, as men, and in every 
 state of life, they that desire to be excused from it, be- 
 cause they are men of figure, and estates, and busi- 
 ness, are no wiser than those that should desire to be 
 excused from health and happiness, because they were 
 men of figure and estates. 
 
 1 cannot see why every gentleman, merchant, or 
 
272 A SERIOUS CALL T0 A 
 
 soldier, should not put these questions seriously to 
 himself: 
 
 Wliat is the best thing- for me to intend and drive 
 at in all my actions/ How shall 1 do to make the most 
 of human life? What ways shall I wish that 1 had ta- 
 ken, when I am leaving" the world ? 
 
 NoWj to be thus wise, and to make thus much use" 
 of our reason, seems to be but a small and necessary 
 piece >of wisdom. For how can we pretend to sense 
 and judgment, if we dare not seriously consider, and 
 answer, and govern our lives by that which such ques- 
 tions require of us? 
 
 Shall a nobleman think his birth too high a dignity 
 to condescend to such questions as these? Or a trades- 
 man think his business too great, to take any care 
 about himself? 
 
 Now here is desired no more devotion in any one's 
 life, than the answering these few questions require. 
 
 Any devotion that is not to the greater advantage 
 of him that uses it, than any thing that he can do in 
 the room of it ; any devotion that does not procure an 
 infinitely greater good, than can be got by neglecting- 
 it, is freely yielded up ; here is no demand of it. 
 
 But if people will live in so much ignorance, as ne- 
 ver to put these questions to themselves, but push on a 
 blind life at all chances, in quest of they do not know 
 what or why, without ever considering the worth, or 
 value, or tendency of their actions; without consider- 
 ing what God, reason, and eternity, and their own 
 happiness require of them ; it is for the honour of de- 
 votion that none -can neglect it, but those who are thui 
 inconsiderate, who dare not enquire after that which 
 is the best and most worthy of their choice. 
 
 It is true, Claudias, you are a man of figure and es- 
 tate, and are to act the part of such a station of human 
 life ; you are not called as Elijah was, to be a prophet, 
 or as St. Paul, to be an apostle. 
 
 But will you therefore not love yourself? Will you 
 liot seek apd study your own happiness, because yon 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE5. 273 
 
 are not called to preach up the same things to other 
 people? 
 
 You would think it very absurd for a man not to 
 value his own health, because he was not a physician ; 
 or the preservation of his limbs, because he was not a 
 bone-setter. Yet it is more absurd for you, Claudius, 
 to neglect the improvement of your soul in piety, be- 
 cause you are not an apostle or a bishop. 
 
 Consider this text of scripture, Ifye live after the 
 Jlesh, ye shall die ; but if, through the Spirit, ye do 
 mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. For as 
 many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the 
 sons of God. Rom. viii. 13, 14. Do you think that 
 this scripture does not equally relate to all mankind ? 
 Can you find any exception here for men of figure and 
 estate? Is not a spiritual and devout lite here made 
 the common condition on which all men are to become 
 sons of God ? Will you leave hours of prayer and 
 rules of devotion to particular states of life, when no- 
 thing- but the same spirit of devotion can save you, or 
 any man, from eternal death ? 
 
 Consider again this text: For we must all appear 
 before the judgment-seat of Christ, that everyone may 
 receive the things done in his body, according to that 
 he hath done, ichether it be good or bad. 2 Cor. v. 10. 
 Now, if your estate would excuse you from appearing 
 before this judgment-seat ; if your figure could pro- 
 tect you from receiving according to your works, there 
 would be some pretence for your leaving devotion to 
 other people. But if you, who are nov/ thus distin- 
 guished, must then appear naked amongst common 
 souls, without any other distinction from others but such 
 as your virtues or sins give you ; does it not as much 
 concern you, as any prophet or apostle, to make the 
 best provision for the best rewards at that great day? 
 
 Again, consider this great doctrine of the apostle: 
 For none of us, that is, of us Christians, liveth tp 
 himself: For whether ice live, we live unto the 
 Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord. 
 
 T 
 
1t74: A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 For to this end Christ both died, and rose, andrevivsc, 
 that he might be Lord both of the dead and the living. 
 
 Now are you, Claudius^ excepted out of the doctii'ie 
 of this text? Will you^ because of your condition^ 
 leave it to any particular sort of people^ to live and die 
 unto Christ? if so^ you must leave it to them, to bo 
 redeemed by the death and resurrection of Christ. 
 For it is the express doctrine of the text, that for this 
 end Christ died and rose again, that none of us should 
 live to himself. It is not that priests, or apostle-, 
 inonks, or hermits^ should live no longer to themselves ; 
 but that none of us, that is, no Christian, of what state 
 soever, should live unto himself. 
 
 If, therefore, there he any instances of piety, any 
 rules of devotion, which you can neglect, and yet livo 
 as truly unto Christ as if you observed them, this text 
 calls you to no sucb devotion, l^ut if you forsake 
 such devotion, as you yourself know is expected fro::: 
 solue particular sorts of people; sUch devotion as ycu 
 know becomes people that live wholly unto Christ, 
 that aspire after great piety ; if you neglect such de- 
 votion for any v^orldly consideration, that you may live 
 more to y(>ur own temper and taste, more to the fa- 
 shions and wavs of the world, you forsnke the terms 
 on which all Christians are to receive the benefit of 
 Christ's death and resurrection. 
 
 Observe farther, how the same doctrine is taught by 
 St. Peter: As he zchich hath called j/ou is holj/, so be 
 ye holy in all manner of conversation. \ Pet. i. 15. 
 
 If, therefore, Claudius^ you are one of those that 
 ^re here called, you see what it is that you are called 
 to. It is not to have so much religion as suits witii 
 your temper, your business, or your p}eus'i:ires ; it is 
 not to a particular sort of piety tluit may be sufficient 
 for gentlemen of figure and cstateV ; but it is, first, to 
 ire holy, as lie which hath called you is 'holy ; secondly, 
 hi js to be thus holy in all manner of conversation ; that 
 %', 'tqcafry this spirit and degree of boliness into every 
 p£irt/ari(l through the whole form of yottr life. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 275 
 
 And the reason the apostle immediately gives, why 
 the spirit of holiness must be the common spirit of 
 Christians, as such, is very aifeeting-, and such as 
 equally calls upon all sorts of Christians. Forasmuch 
 as2/e hnow, says he, that ye were not redeemed with 
 corruptible tilings, as silver and gold, from your vain 
 conversation — but with the precious blood of Christy 
 &c. 
 
 As if he had said, Forasmuch as ye know ye were 
 made capable of this state of holiness, entered into a 
 society with Christ, and made heirs of his glory, not 
 by any human means, but by such la mysterious in- 
 stance of love, as infinitely exceeds every thing- that 
 can be thought of in this woild ; since God has re- 
 deemed you to himself, and your own happiness, at so 
 great a price, how base and shameful must it be, if 
 you do not henceforth devote yourselves wholly to the 
 glory of God, and become holy, as he who hath called 
 you is holy ! 
 
 If, therefore, Claudius, you consider your figure 
 and estate ; or if, in the words of the text, you consi- 
 der your gold and silver, and the corruptible things 
 of this life, as any reason why you may live to your 
 own humour and fancy, why you may neglect a life of 
 strict piety and great devotion ; if you think any thing- 
 in the world can be an excuse for your not imitating- 
 the holiness of Christ in the whole course and form of 
 your life, you may make yourself as guilty, as if you 
 should neglect the holiness of Christianity for the sake 
 of picking- straws. 
 
 For the gieatness of this new state of life to which 
 we are called in Christ Jesus, to be for ever as the an- 
 g"els of God in heaven, and the greatness of the price 
 by which we are made caj)able of this state of glory _, 
 has turned every thing- that is vvoildly, temporal, and 
 corruptible, into an equal littleness ; and made it as 
 great baseness and folly, as great a contempt of the 
 blood of Christ, to neglect any degrees of holiness, 
 because you are a man of some estate and quality, as 
 
 t2 
 
276 A SEHIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 it would be to neglect it, because you had a fancy to 
 pick straws. 
 
 Again, the same apostle saith. Know ye not, that 
 your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost ivhich is 
 in you, and ye are not your own ? For ye are bought 
 with a price ; therefore glorify God in your body, and 
 in your spirit, which are God's. 1 Cor. vi. 19, 20. 
 
 How poorly, therefore, Claudius, have you read the 
 scripture! how little do you know of Christianity, if 
 you can yet talk of your estate and condition as a pre- 
 tence for a freer kind of life ! 
 
 Are you any more your own, than he that has no 
 estate or dignity in the world? Must mean and little 
 people preserve their bodies as temples of the Holy 
 Ghost, tjy watching-, fasting, and prayer ; but may you 
 indulge yourselves in idleness, in lusts, and sensuality, 
 because ye have so much rent, or such a title of distinc- 
 tion ? How poor and ignorant are such thoughts as 
 these. And yet you must either think thus, or else 
 acknowledge that the holiness of saints, prophets, and 
 apostles, is the holiness that you are to labour after 
 with all the diligence and care that you can. 
 
 And if you leave it to others, to live in such piety 
 and devotion, in such self-denial, humility, and tem- 
 perance, as may render them able to glorify God in 
 their body and in their spirit ; you must leave it to 
 them also to have the benefit of the blood of Christ. 
 
 Again, the apostle saith. You know hoxv we exhort- 
 ed, comforted, and charged every one of you, that you 
 would walk icorthy of God, who hath called you to 
 his kingdom and glory. 
 
 You, perhaps, Claudius, have often heard these 
 words without ever thinking- how much they required 
 of you. And yet you cannot consider them, without 
 perceiving to what an eminent state of holiness they 
 call you. 
 
 For how can the holiness of the Christian life be 
 set before you in higher terms, than when it is repre- 
 sented to you as walking wortliy of God? Can you 
 
DETOUT AND HOLY LIFE. S77 
 
 think of any abatements of virtue^ any neglects of de- 
 votion, that are well consistent with a life that is to be 
 made worthy of God? Can you suppose that any man 
 walks in this manner, but he that watches over all his 
 steps, and considers how every thing he does may be 
 done in the spirit of holiness? And yet as high as 
 these expressions carry this holiness, it is here plainly 
 made the necessary holiness of all Christians. For 
 tile apostle does not here exhort his fellow apostles 
 and saints to this holiness, but he commands all Chris- 
 tians to endeavour after it : fVe charged, says he, 
 eveiy one of you, that you would walk worthy of God, 
 who hath called you to his kingdom and glory. 
 
 Again; St. Peter saith, i/'am/ m«?« speak, let him 
 speak as the oracles of God; if any man minister, let 
 him do it as of the ability that God giveth ; that God 
 in all things may be glorified in Christ Jesus. 1 Pet. 
 iv. 11. 
 
 Do you not here, Claudius, plainly perceive your 
 high calling? Is he that speaketh, to have such re- 
 gard to his words, that he appear to speak as by the 
 direction of God? Is he that giveth, to take care that 
 he so giveth, that what he disposeth of may appear to 
 be a gift that he hath of God? And is all this to be 
 done, that God may be glorified in all things? 
 
 Must it not then be said. Has any man nobility, dig- 
 nityof state, or figure in the world? let him so use his 
 nobility or figure of life, that it may appear he uses 
 these as the gifts of God, for the greater setting forth 
 of his glory. Is there now, Claudius, any thing forced 
 or far-fetched in this conclusion ? Is it not the plain 
 sense of the words, that every thing in life is to be 
 made a matter of holiness unto God ? If so, then your 
 estate and dignity is so far from excusing you from 
 great piety and holiness of life, that it lays you under 
 a greater necessity of living more to the glory of 
 God, because you have more of his gifts that may be 
 made serviceable to it. 
 
 For people, therefore, of figure, or business, or dig- 
 
 i3 
 
278 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 nity in the worlds to leave great piety atid eminent de- 
 votion to any particular orders of men, or such as they 
 think !iave liUie else to do in the world, is to leave the 
 kingdom of God to them. For it is the very end of 
 Christianity to redeem all orders of men into one holy 
 society, tiiat rich and poor, liii^ii and low, masters and 
 servants, may in one and tlie same spirit of piety be- 
 come a chosen gencralion, a roi/al priesl/wod, an 
 holy nation, a peculiar people, that are to shew forth 
 the praises of hi in, who hath called than out of dark- 
 ness into his inar-cellous lii^ht. 1 Pet. ii. 9. 
 
 Thus much being said to shew that great devotion 
 and holiness is not to be left to any particular sort of 
 people, but to be the common spirit of all that desire 
 to live up to the terms of common Christianity ; I now 
 proceed to consider the nature and necessity of univer- 
 sal love, which is here recommended to be the subject 
 of your devotion at this hour. You are here also call- 
 ed to intercession, as the most proper exercise to raise 
 and preserve that love. By intercession is meant a 
 praying to God, and interceding with him for our fel- 
 low-creatures. 
 
 Our blessed Lord hath recommended his love to us_, 
 as the pattern and example of our love to one another. 
 As therefore he is continually making intercession for 
 us all, so ouglit we to intercede and pray for One ano- 
 ther, 
 
 A neiD commandment, saith he, Igiveuntot/ou, that 
 ye love one another, as I have loved you. By this 
 shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye love 
 one another. 
 
 The newness of this precept did not consist in this, 
 that men were commanded to love one another: for 
 this was an old precept, both of the law of Moses and 
 of nature. But it was new in this respect, that it was 
 to imitate a new, and till then unheard-of example of 
 love ; it was to love one another as Christ bad loved us. 
 
 And if men are to know that we are disciples of 
 Christ,, by thus loving one another according to his 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 279 
 
 new example of love ; then it is certain^ tliat if we are 
 void of this love, we make it as plainly known unto 
 men, that we are none of his disciples. 
 
 There is no principle of the heart that is more ac- 
 ceptable to God, than an universal fervent love to all 
 mankind, wishini^- and praying- for their happiness ; be- 
 cause there is no principle of the heart that makes us 
 more like God, who is love and goodness itself, and 
 created all things for their enjoyment of happiness. 
 
 The greatest idea that we can frame of God is, 
 when we conceive him to be a being of infinite love 
 and goodness ; using an infinite wisdom and power for 
 the common good and happiness of all his creatures. 
 
 The iiighest notion therefore that we can form of 
 man is, when we conceive him as like to God in this 
 respect as he can be; using all his infinite faculties, 
 whether of wisdom, power, or prayers, for the com- 
 mon good of ail his fellow-creatures ; heartily desiring 
 they may have all the happiness they are capable of, 
 and as many benefits and assistances from him, as his 
 state and condition in the world will permit him to 
 give them. 
 
 And, on the other hand, what a baseness and iniquity 
 is there in all instances of hatred, envy, spite, and ill- 
 will ; if we consider, that every instance of them is so 
 far acting in opposition to God, and intending mischief 
 and harm to those creatures, which God favours, and 
 protects, and preserves, in order to their happiness ! 
 An ill-natured man amongst God's creatures is the 
 most perverse creature in the world, acting contrary 
 to that love, by which himself subsists, and which 
 alone gives subsistence to all that variety of beings, 
 that enjoy life in any part of the creation. Whatsoever 
 ye would that men should do unto you, even so do 
 unto them. 
 
 Now though this is a doctrine of strict justice, yet 
 it is only an universal love that can comply with it. 
 For as love is the measure of our acting towards our- 
 selves, so we can never act in the same manner to- 
 
 .t4 
 
^80 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 wards other people, till we look upon them with that 
 love with which we look upon ourselves. 
 
 As we have no degrees of spite, or envy, or ill-will 
 to ourselves, so we cannot be disposed towards others 
 as we are towards ourselves, till we universally re- 
 nounce all instances of spite and envy, and ill-will, 
 even in the smallest degrees. 
 
 If we had any imperfection in our eyes, that made 
 us see any one thing- wrong', for the same reason they 
 would shew us an hundred things wrong. 
 
 So if we have any temper of our hearts, that makes 
 ns envious, or spiteful, or ill-natured towards any one 
 man, the same temper will make us envious, and spite- 
 ful, and ill-natured towards a great many more. 
 
 If therefore we desire this divine virtue of love, w& 
 must exercise and practise our hearts in the love of all ; 
 because it is not Christian love^tiil it is the love of all. 
 
 If a man could keep this whole law of love, and yet 
 ©ffend in one point, he would be guilty of all. For as 
 one allowed instance of injustice destroys the justice 
 of all our other actions, so one allowed instance of 
 envy, spite, and ill-will, renders all our other acts of 
 benevolence and atfection nothing worth. 
 
 x\cts of love that proceed not from a principle of 
 universal love, are but like acts of justice, that proceed 
 from a heart not disposed to universal justice. 
 
 A love which is not universal may indeed have ten- 
 derness and affection, but it hath nothing of righteous- 
 ness or piety in it ; it is but humour and temper, or 
 interest, or such a love as publicans and heathens 
 practise. 
 
 All particular envies and spites, are as plain depart- 
 ures from the spirit of Christianity, as any particular 
 acts of injustice. For it is as much a law of Christ to 
 treat every body as your neighbour, and to love your 
 neighbour as yourself, as it is a law of Christianity to 
 abstain from theft. 
 
 Now the noblest motive to this universal tenderness 
 and affection, is founded in this doctrine, God is love; 
 and he that dwelleth in him, dwelleth in God, 
 
DEVOtJT AND HOLY LIFE. 281 
 
 Who, therefore, whose heart has any tendency to- 
 wards God, would not aspire after this divine temper, 
 which so changes and exalts our nature into an union 
 with him ? 
 
 How should we rejoice in the exercise and practice 
 of this love, which, so often as we feel it, is so often an 
 assurance to us, that God is in us, that we act according 
 to his Spirit, who is love itself? But we must observe 
 that love has then only this mighty power of uniting us 
 to God, when it is so pure and universal, as to imitaie 
 that love, which God beareth to all his creatures. 
 
 God willeth the happiness of all beings, though it is 
 no happiness to himself. Therefore we must desire 
 the happiness of all beings, though no happiness com- 
 eth to us from it. 
 
 God equally delighteth in the perfections of all his 
 creatures, therefore we should rejoice in those perfec- 
 tions, wherever we see them, and be as glad to have 
 other people perfect as ourselves. 
 
 As God forgiveth all, and giveth grace to all, so we 
 should forgive all those injuries and atfronts which we 
 receive from others, and do all the good Ave can to 
 them. ^* 
 
 God Almighty, besides his own great example of 
 love, which ought to draw all his creatures after it, 
 has so provided for us, and made our happiness so 
 common to us all, that we have no occasion to envy 6if 
 hate one another. 
 
 For we cannot stand in one another's way ; or, by 
 enjoying any particular good, keep another from his 
 full share of it. As we cannot be happy, but in the 
 enjoyment of God, so we cannot rival, or rob one 
 another of this happiness. 
 
 And as to other tilings, the.enjoyments and prospe- 
 rities of this life, they are so little in themselves, so fo- 
 reign to our happiness, and, generally speaking, so 
 contrary to that which they appear to be, that they are 
 no foundation for envy, or spite, or hatred. 
 
382 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 How silly would it be to envy a man, that was 
 drinking- poison out of a golden cup ! and yet who can 
 say, that he is acting wiser than thus, when he is en- 
 vying any instance of v^orldiy greatness? 
 
 How many saints has adversity sent to heaven ! And 
 how many poor sinners has prosperity plunged into 
 everlasting misery ! A man seems then to be in the 
 most glorious state, when he has conquered, disgra- 
 ced, and liumbled his enemy ; tliough it may be, tliat 
 same conquest has saved his adversary and undone 
 himself. 
 
 This m^n had perhaps never been debauched, but 
 for his fortune and advar.cenient ; that had never been 
 pious, but through his poverty and disgrace. 
 
 She that is envied for her beauty may perchance 
 owe all her misery to it ; and another may be for ever 
 happy, for having had no admircss of her person. 
 
 Ojie man succeeds in every thing, and so loses all : 
 another meets with nothing but crosses and disap- 
 pointments, and thereby gains more than all the world 
 is worth. 
 
 This x^lergyman may be undone by his being made 
 a bishop; and that may save both himself and others, 
 by being fixed to his first poor vicarage. 
 
 How envied was Alexander, when, conquering the 
 world, he built towns, set up his statues, and left 
 marks of his glory in so many kingdoms! And how 
 despised was the poor preacher St. Paul, when he was 
 beaten .with rods! And yet how strangely was the 
 world mistaken in their judgment! How much to be 
 envied was St. Paul! How much to be pitied was 
 Alexander! 
 
 Tiiese few reflections sufficiently shew us, that <the, 
 different conditions of this life have nothiiag in them 
 to excite our uneasy passions, nothing that can rea- 
 sonably interrupt our love and affection to one anO' 
 ther. 
 
 To proceed now to another motive to ihU uniyei'sal 
 love. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. ^83 
 
 Our power of doing external acts of love and good- 
 ness is often very narrow and restrained. There are, 
 it may be, but few people to whom we can contribute 
 any worldly relief. 
 
 But though our outward means of doing good are 
 often thus limited, yet if our hearts are but full of love 
 and goodness, we get as it were an infinite power; 
 because God will attribute to us those good works, 
 those acts of love and tender charities, wiiich we sin- 
 cerely desired, and would gladly have performed,, had 
 it been in our power. 
 
 You cannot heal all the sick, relieve all the poor; 
 you cannot comfort all in distress, nor be a father to 
 all the fatherless. You cannot, it may be, deliver 
 many from their misfortunes, or teach them to find 
 comfort in God. 
 
 But if there is a love and tenderness in your heart 
 that delights in these good works, and excites you to 
 do all that you can ; if your love has no bounds, but 
 continually wishes and prays for the relief and happi- 
 ness of all that are in distress, you will be received by 
 God as a benefactor to those, who have had nothing 
 from you but your good will and tender ailections. 
 
 You cannot build hospitals for the incurable ; you 
 cannot erect monasteries for the education of persons 
 in holy solitude, continual prayer, and mortification ; 
 but if you join in your heart with those that do, and 
 thank God for their pious designs ; if you are a friend 
 to thepe great friends to mankind, and rejoic'C in their 
 eminent virtues, you will be received by God as a 
 sharer of such good works, as though they had none 
 of your hands, yet they had all your heart. 
 
 This consideration surely is sufficient to make us 
 look to, and watch over our hearts with all diligence ; 
 to study the improvement of our inward tempers, 
 and aspire after every height and perfection of a lov- 
 ing, charitable, and benevolent mind. 
 
 And, on the other hand, we may hence learn the 
 great evil and mischief of all Avrong turns of mind, of 
 
284 A SERIOUS dALt TO A 
 
 envy^, spite, hatred, and ill-will. For if the goodness 
 of our hearts will entitle us to the reward of good ac- 
 tions, which we never performed ; it is certain that 
 the badness of our hearts, our envy, ill-nature, and 
 hatred, will bring us under the guilt of actions that we 
 have never committed. 
 
 As he that lusteth after a woman shall be reckoned 
 an adulterer, though he has only committed the crime 
 in his heart ; so the malicious, spiteful, ill-natured man, 
 Jthat only secretly rejoices at evil, shall be reckoned a 
 murderer, though he has shed no blood. 
 
 Since, therefore, our hearts,' which are always nak- 
 jed and open to the eyes of God, give such an exceed- 
 ing extent and increase either to our virtues or vices, 
 it is our best and greatest business to govern the 
 motions of our hearts, to watch, correct, and improve 
 the inward state and temper of our souls. 
 
 Now there is nothing that so much exalts our souls 
 as this heavenly love; it cleanses and purifies like a 
 holy fire, and all ill-tempers fall away before it. It 
 makes room for all virtues, and carries them to their 
 greatest height. Every thing that is good and holy 
 grows out of it, and it becomes a continual source of 
 all holy desires and pious practices. By love, 1 do not 
 mean any natural tenderness, which is more or- less 
 in people according to their constitutions ; but I mean 
 a larger principle of the soul, founded in reason and 
 piety, which makes us tender, kind, and benevolent to 
 all our fellow-creatures, as creatures of God, and for 
 his sake. 
 
 It is this love that loves all things in God, as his 
 creatures, as the images of his power, as the creatures 
 of his goodness, as parts of his family, as members of 
 his society, that becomes a holy principle of all great 
 and good actions. 
 
 The love, therefore, of our neighbour is only a 
 branch of our love to God. For when we love God 
 with all our hearts, and with all our souls, and with all 
 eur streqgth, we shall necessarily love those beings 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 285 
 
 that are so nearly related to God, that have every thing 
 fipm him, and created by him, to be objects of his 
 oun eternal love. If I hate or despise any one man 
 in the world, I hate something" that God cannot hate, 
 and despise that which he loves. 
 
 And can 1 think that I love God with all my heart, 
 whilst 1 hate that which belongs only to God, which 
 has no other master but him, which bears his image, 
 is part of his family, and exists only by the continu- 
 ance of his love towards it? It was the impossibility 
 of this that made St. John say. That if any man saith, 
 he loveth God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar. 
 
 These reasons sufficiently shew us, that no love is 
 holy or religious, till it becomes universal. 
 
 For if religion requires me to love all persons, as 
 God's creatures, that belong to him, that bear his 
 image, enjoy his protection, and make parts of his fa- 
 mily and household ; if these are the great and neces- 
 sary reasons why I should live in love and friendship 
 with any one man in the world, they are the same 
 great and necessary reasons why I should live in love 
 and friendship with every one man in the world : and 
 consequently, I offend against all these reasons, and 
 break through all these tics and obligations, whenever 
 I want love towards any one man. The sin, therC' 
 fore, of hating or despising any one man, is like the 
 sin of hating all God's creation ; and the necessity of 
 loving any one man, is the same necessity of loving 
 every man in the world. And though many people 
 may appear to us ever so sinful, odious, or extrava- 
 gant in their conduct, we must never look upon that 
 as the least motive for any contempt or disregard of 
 them, but look upon them with the greater compas- 
 sion, as being in the most pitiable condition that can 
 be. 
 
 As it was the sins of the world, that made the Son 
 of God become a compassionate suffering advocate for 
 all mankind ; so none is of the spirit of Christ but he 
 that has the utmost compassion for sinners. Nor m 
 
286 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 there any greater sign of your own perfection^ than 
 when you find yourselves all love and compassion to- 
 wards them that are very weak and defective. And, 
 on the other hand^ you have never less reason to be 
 pleased Avith yourself, than when you find yourself 
 most angry and offended at the behaviour of others. 
 All sin is certainly to be hated and abhorred wherever 
 it is ; but then we must set ourselves against sin, as we 
 do against sickness and diseases, by shewing ourselves 
 tender and compassionate to the sick and diseased. 
 
 All other hatred of sin, which does not fill the heart 
 with the softest, tenderest affections towards persons 
 miserable in it, is the servant of sin at the same time 
 that it seems to be hating it. 
 
 And there is no temper which even good men ought 
 more carefully to watch and guard against than this. 
 For it is a temper that lurks and hides itself under the 
 cover of many virtues, and by behig unsuspected does 
 the more mischief. 
 
 A man naturally fancies that it is his own exceeding 
 love of virtue that makes him not able to bear with 
 those that want it. And when he abhors one man, 
 despises another, and cannot bear the name of a third, 
 he supposes it all to be a proof of his own high sense 
 of virtue and just hatred of sin. 
 
 And yet one would think, that a man needed no 
 other cure for this temper than this one reflection : 
 
 That if this had been the spirit of the Son of God, 
 if tie luid liated sin in this manner, there had been no 
 redemption of the world : That if God had hated sin- 
 ners in this nranner day and night, the world itself had 
 ceased long ag-o. 
 
 This, therefore, we may take for a certain rule, that 
 the more we partake of the divine nature, the more 
 improved we are ourselves ; and the higher our sense 
 of virtue is, the more we shall pity and compassionate 
 those that want it. The sight of such people will 
 then, instead of raising in us a haughty contempt, or 
 peevish indignation towards them, fill us with &uch 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 287 
 
 bowels of compassion^ as when we see tlie miseries of 
 
 : \{ the folliesj therefore, crimes, and ill behaviour 
 c; o.v fellow-creatures, may not lessen that love and 
 te it'?rness which we are to have for all uiankindj we 
 6!\)u!d often consider the reasons on which this duty 
 of love is founded. 
 
 Now wc are to love our neighjjour, that is^ all man- 
 k'iid, not because they are wii^e, holy, virtuous, or 
 well-behaved ; for all mankind neither ever was, nor 
 ever will be so ; therefore it is certain, that the reason 
 of our bein"' obliiied to love them cannot be founded 
 in their virtue. 
 
 Again : if their virtue or g"oodness were the reason 
 of our being obliged to love people, we should have no 
 rule to proceed by ; because, though sorae people's 
 virtues or vices are very notorious, yet, generally 
 speaking, we are but very ill judges of the virtue and 
 merit of other people. 
 
 Thirdly, ^Ve are sure that the virtue or merit of 
 persons is not the reason of our being obliged to love 
 them, because we are commanded to pay the highest 
 instances of love to our worst enemies; we are to 
 love, and bless, and pray for those that most injurious- 
 ly treat us. This, therefore, is demonstration, that 
 the merit of persons is not the reason on which our 
 obligation to love them is founded. 
 
 Let lis farther consider what that love is which we 
 owe to our neighbour. It is to love him as ourselves : 
 that is, to have all those sentiments towards him, which 
 we have towards ourselves ; to wish him every thing* 
 that we may lawfully wish to ourselves ; to be glad of 
 every good, and sorry for every evil that happens to 
 him : and be ready to do him all such acts of kindness 
 as we are always ready to do ourselves. 
 
 This love, therefore, you see, is nothing- else but a 
 love of benevolence ; it requires nothing of us but 
 such good wislies, tender affections, and such acts of 
 li'mdness as we ^hew to ourselves. 
 
288 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 This is all the love that we owe to the best of men ; 
 and we are never to want any degree of this love to 
 the worst or most unreasonable man in the world. 
 
 Now what is the reason why we are to love every 
 man in this manner? It is answered, that our obliga- 
 tion to love all men in this manner is founded upon 
 many reasons. 
 
 First, Upon a reason of equity : for, if it is just to 
 love ourselves, in this manner, it must be unjust to 
 deny any degree of this love to others, because every 
 man is so exactly of the same nature and in the same 
 condition as ourselves. 
 
 If, therefore, your own crimes and follies do not les- 
 sen your obligation to seek your own good, and wish 
 well to yourself; neither do the foUies and crimes of 
 your neighbour lessen your obligation to wish and 
 seek the good of your neighbour. 
 
 Another reason for this love is founded in the au- 
 thority of God, who has commanded us to love every 
 man as ourselves. 
 
 Thirdly, We are obliged to this love, in imitation of 
 God's goodness, that we may be children of our Fa- 
 tlier, which is in heaven, who willeth the happiness of 
 all his creatures, and maketh his sun to rise on the 
 evil, and on the good. 
 
 Fourthly, Our redemption by Jesus Christ calleth 
 us to the exercise of this love, who came from heaven, 
 and laid down his life out of love to the whole sinful 
 world. 
 
 Fifthly, By the command of our Lord and Saviour, 
 who has required us to love one another, as he has 
 loved us. 
 
 These are the great perpetual reasons on which our 
 obligation to love all mankind as ourselves is founded. 
 
 These reasons never vary or change; they always 
 continue in their full force; and, therefore, equally 
 oblige at all times, and in regard to all persons. 
 
 God loves us, not because we are wise, and good, 
 and holy, but in pity to us^ because w^ want this hap- 
 
t)EVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 289 
 
 pincss : He loves us, in order to make us good. Our 
 love, therefore, must take this course ; not looking- for, 
 or requiring the merit of our brethren, hut pitying 
 their disorders, and wishing tlieni all the good that 
 they want, and are capable of receiving. 
 
 It appears now plainly from what has been said, 
 that the love which we owe to our brethren is only a 
 love of benevolence. Secondly, that this duty of be- 
 nevolence is founded upon such reasons as never vary 
 o»' change, such as have no dependence upon the 
 qualities of persons. From whence it follows, that it 
 is the same great sin, to want this love to a bad man, 
 as to want it to a good man. Because he that denies 
 any of this benevolence to a bad man, offends against 
 all tlie same reasons of love, as he does that denies any 
 benevolence to a good man ; and consequently, it is 
 the same sin. 
 
 When, therefore, you let loose an ill-natured pas- 
 sion, either of hatred or contempt, towards (as you 
 suppose) an ill man, consider what you would think of 
 another that was doing the same towards a good man, 
 and be assured that you are committing the same sin. 
 
 You will, perhaps, say. How is it possible to love 
 a good and a bad man in the same degree? 
 
 Just as it is possible to be as just and faithful to a 
 good man, as to an evil man. Now are you in any 
 difficulty about performing justice and faithfulness to 
 a bad man ? Are you in any doubts, whether you 
 need be so just and faithful to him, as you need be to 
 a good man? Now why is it, that you are in no 
 doubt about it? It is because you know that justice 
 and faithfulness are founded upon reasons that never 
 vary or change, that have no dependence upon the 
 merits of men, but are founded in the nature of things, 
 in the laws of God, and, therefore, are to be observed 
 with equal exactness towards good and bad men. 
 
 Now do but think thus justly of charity, or love to 
 your neighbour, that it is founded upon reasons that 
 Tary not, that have no dependence upon the merits of 
 
 u 
 
^DO A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 men, and then you will find it as impoBsible to per- 
 forin the same exact charity, as the same exact justice 
 to all men, whether i^oodor bad. 
 
 You will perhaps farther ask, if you are not to have 
 a particular esteem, veneration, and reverence for 
 good men ? It is answered. Yes. But then this high 
 esteem and veneration, is a thing" very diiferent from 
 that love of benevolence which we owe to our neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 The high esteem and veneration which you have 
 for a man of eminent piety, is no act of charity to him ; 
 it is not of pity and compassion that you so reverence 
 him, but it is rather an act of charity to yourself, that 
 such esteem and veneration may excite you to follovr 
 his example. 
 
 You may, and ought to love, like, and approve the 
 life which the good man leads ; but then this is only 
 the loving of virtue, wherever we see it. And we do 
 not love virtue with the love of benevolence, as any 
 thing" that wants our good wishes, but as something- 
 that is our proper good. 
 
 The whole of the matter is this. The actions 
 which you are to love, esteem, and admire, are the ac- 
 tions of good and pious men ; but the persons to 
 whom you are to do all the good you can, in all sorts 
 of kindness and compassion, are all persons, whether 
 good or bad. 
 
 This distinction betwixt love of benevolence, and 
 esteem or veneration, is very plain and obvious. And 
 you may perhaps still better see the plainness and 
 necessity of it, by this following instance : 
 
 No man is to have an high esteem, or honour, for 
 his own accomplishments, or behaviour; yet every 
 man is to love himself, that is, to wish well to himself; 
 therefore, (his distinction betwixt love and esteem, is 
 not only plain, but very necessary to be observed. 
 
 Again ; if you think it hardly possible to dislike the 
 actions of unreasonable men, and yet have a true love 
 for them : Consider this with relation to yourself 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 291 
 
 It i«; verv possible, I Ijope^ for you not only to dis- 
 like, hut to detest and abhor a ^reat many of your own 
 past actions, and to accuse yourself with great folly 
 for tiiem. But do you then lose any of those tender 
 sentiments towards yourself, which you used to have? 
 Do you then cease to wish well to yourself? Is not 
 the love of yourself as stroni^- then as at any other 
 time ? 
 
 Now what is thus possible with relation to our- 
 selves, is in the same maniier possible with relation to 
 others. We may have the hig-hest good wishes to- 
 wards them, desiring for them every good that we de- 
 sire for ourselves,, and yet at the same time dislike their 
 way of life. 
 
 To proceed; all that love which we may justly have 
 for ourselves, we are in strict justice obliged to exer- 
 cise towards all other men ; and we offend against the 
 great law of our nature, and the greatest laws of God, 
 when our tempers towards others are difl"crent from 
 those which we have towards ourselves. 
 
 Now that self-love which is just and reasonable, 
 keeps us constantly tender, compassionate, and wcll- 
 alfected towards ourselves; if, therefore, you do not 
 feel these kind dispositions towards all other people, 
 you may be assured, that you are not in that state of 
 charity, which is the very life and soul of Christian 
 piety. 
 
 You know how it hurts you to be made the jest and 
 ridicule of other people ; how it grieves you to be rob- 
 bed of your reputation, and deprived of the favourable 
 opinion of your neighbours : If, therefore, you expose 
 others to scorn and contempt in any degree'; if it 
 pleases you to see or hear of their frailties or infirmi- 
 ties; or if you are only loth to conceal their faults, 
 you are so far from loving such people as yourself, 
 that you may be justly supposed to have as much ha- 
 tred for them, as you have love for yourself. For 
 such tempers are as truly the proper fruits of hatred^ 
 as the contrary tempers ace the proper fruits of love. 
 
 u 2 
 
292 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 And as it is a certain sij^n that you love yourself, 
 because yon are tender of every thing- that concerns 
 you : so it is a certain sign that you hate your neigh- 
 bour, when you are pleased with any thing that hurts 
 him. 
 
 But now, if the want of a true and exact charity be 
 so great a want, that, as St. Paul saith, it renders our 
 greatest virtues but empty sounds and tinkling cym- 
 bals, how highly docs it concern us to study every art, 
 and practise every method of raising our souls to this 
 state of charity! It is for this reason, that you are 
 here desired, not to let this hour of prayer pass, with- 
 out a full and solemn supplication to God, for all the 
 instances of an universal love and benevolence to all 
 mankind. 
 
 Such daily constant devotion being the only likely 
 means of preserving you in such a state of love, as is 
 necessary to prove you to be a true follower of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Ofthe necessiti/ and hencjit of Intercession, consider- 
 ed as an exercise of universal lore. How all or- 
 ders of men arc to praij and intercede icith God for 
 one another. How natnrallij such intercession 
 amends and reforms the hearts of those that use it. 
 
 THAT intercession is a great and necessary part of 
 Christian devotion, is very evident from Scripture. 
 
 The first followers of Christ seem to support all 
 their love, and to maintain all their intercourse and 
 correspondence, by mutual prayers for one another. 
 
 St. Paul, whether he writes to churches, or particu- 
 lar persons, shews his intercession to be perpetual for 
 them, that they are the constant subject of his pray- 
 ers. 
 
 Thus to the Philippians, / thank my God iipoti 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 293 
 
 evev\) remembrance ofi/ou. Always in every prayer 
 of m'uie for you all, making request icitk joy. Phil. i. 
 4, 5. Here we see, not only a continual intercession, 
 but performed ^vit]l so much gladness as shews that it 
 was an exercise of love, in which he highly rejoiced. 
 
 His devotion had also the same care for particular 
 persons, as appears by the following- passage. I thank 
 my God, ichom I serve from my forefathers, icith a 
 pure conscience, that, loithout ceasing, I have remem- 
 brance of thee in my prayers night and day, 2 Tim. i. 
 3, How holy an acquaintance and friendship was 
 this, how^ worthy of persons that were raised above the 
 world, and related to one another, as new members of 
 a kingdom of heaven ! 
 
 Apostles and great saints did not only thus benefit 
 and bless particular churches, and private persons ; 
 but they themselves also received graces from God by 
 the prayers of others. Thus, saith St. Paul to the Co- 
 rinthians, You also helping together by prayer for 
 US, that for the gift bestowed upon ns by the means of 
 many persons, thanks may be given by many on our 
 behalf, 2 Cowl 11. 
 
 This was the ancient friendship of Christians unit- 
 ing and cementing- their hearts, not by worldly consi- 
 derations, of human passions, but by the mutual com- 
 munications of spiritual blessings, by prayers and 
 thanksgiving's to God for one another. 
 
 It was this holy intercession that raised Christians 
 to such a state of mutual love, as far exceeded all that 
 had been praised and admired in human friendship. 
 And when the same spirit of intercession is again in 
 the world, when Christianity has the same power over 
 the hearts of the people, that it then had, this holy 
 friendship will be again in fashion, and Christians will 
 be again the wonder of the world, for that exceeding*. 
 love which they bear to one another. 
 
 For a frequent intercession with God, earnestly be- 
 seeching- him to forgive tlic sins of all mankiiui, to 
 bless them with his providence, eniightea tlicm with 
 
294 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 his Spirit, and bring them to everlasting- liappiness, is 
 the divinest exercise that the heart of man can be en- 
 gaged in. 
 
 Be daily, therefore, on 3rour knees in a solemn deli- 
 berate performance of this devotion, praying for others 
 in forms, with such length and importunity, and earn- 
 estness, as you use for yourself; and you will find all 
 little ill-natured passions die away, your heait grow 
 great and generous, delighting in the common happi- 
 ness of others, a? you used only to delight in your own. 
 
 For he that daily prays to God, that all men may be 
 happy in heaven, takes the likeliest Avay to make him 
 wish for, and delight in tiieir happiness on earth. And 
 it is hardly possible for you, to beseech and intreat God 
 to make any one happy in the highest enjoyments of 
 his glory to all eternity, and yet b^' troubled to see him 
 enjoy the much smaller gifts of God in this short and 
 low state of human life. For how strange and unna- 
 tural would it be to pray to God to grant health and a 
 longer life to a sick man, and at ihe same time to envy 
 him the poor pleasures of agreeable medicines ! Yet 
 this would be no more strange, or unnatural, than to 
 pray to God that your neighbour may enjoy the. high- 
 est degrees of his mercy and favour, and yet at the 
 same time envy hioi the little credit and figure he hath 
 amongst his fellow-creatures. 
 
 When, therefore, you have once habituated your 
 heart to a serious performance of this holy intercession, 
 you have done a great deal to render it incapable of 
 spite and envy, and to make it naturally delight in the 
 happiness of all mankind. This is the natural eft'ect 
 of a general intercession for all mankind. But the 
 greatest benefits of it are then received, when it de- 
 scends to such particular instances as our state and 
 condition in life more particularly require of us. 
 
 Though we arc to treat all mankind as neighbours 
 and brethren, as any occasion offers ; yet as we can 
 only live in the actunl society of a few, and are by our 
 state and condition more particularly related to some 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 295 
 
 than others; so when our intercession is made an 
 exercise of love and care for those amongst whom our 
 lot is fallen, or who belong- to us in a near lelation, it 
 then becomes the greatest benefit to ourselves, and 
 produces its best effects in our own hearts. If, there- 
 fore, you should always change and alter your inter- 
 cessions according as the needs and necessities of your 
 neighbours or acquaintances seem to require ; be- 
 seeching God to deliver them from such and such par- 
 ticular evils, or to grant them this or that particular 
 gift or blessing ; such intercessions, besides the great 
 charity of them, would have a mighty eftect upon your 
 heart, as disposing you to every other good office, and 
 to the exercise of every other virtue towards such per- 
 sons, as have so often a place in your prayers. 
 
 This would make it pleasant to you to be courteous, 
 civil, and condescending to all about you ; and make 
 you unable to say or do a rude or hard thing to those, 
 for whom you have used yourself to be so kind and 
 compassionate in your prayers. For there is nothing 
 that makes us love a man so much, as praying for 
 him ; and, when you can once do this sincerely for 
 any man, you have fitted your soul for the perform- 
 ance of every thing that is kind and civil towards him. 
 This will fill your heart with a generqsity and tender- 
 ness, that will give you a better and sweeter behaviour, 
 than any thing that is called fine breeding and good 
 manners. 
 
 By considering yourself as an advocate with God 
 for your neighbours and acquaintance, you would 
 never find it hard to be at peace with them yourself. 
 It would be easy to you to bear with, and forgive those, 
 for whom you particularly implored the divine mercy 
 and forgiveness. 
 
 Such prayers as these amongst neighbours and ac- 
 quaintance would unite them to one another in the 
 strongest bonds of love and tenderness. It would ex- 
 alt and ennoble their souls, and teach them to consider 
 one another in a higher state, as members of a spiritual 
 
 u 4 
 
296 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 society, that are created for the enjoyment of the com- 
 mon blessings of God, and fellow-heirs of the same 
 future glory. And by being thus desirous, that every 
 one should have their full share of the favours of God, 
 they would not only be content, but glad to see one 
 another happy in the little enjoyments of this transi- 
 tory life. These would be the natural effects of such 
 an intercession amongst people of the same town or 
 neighbourhood, or that were acquainted with one 
 another's state and condition. 
 
 Ouranius is a holy priest, full of the spirit of the 
 gospel, watching, labouring, and praying for a poor 
 country village. Every soul in it is as dear to him as 
 himself; and he loves them all as he loves himself; 
 because he prays for them all, as often as he prays for 
 himself. If his whole life is one continual exercise of 
 great zeal and labour, hardly ever satisfied with any 
 degrees of care and watchfulness, it is because he has 
 learned the great value of souls, by so often appear- 
 ing before God, as an intercessor for them. 
 
 He never thinks he can love, or do enough for his 
 flock ; because he never considers them in any other 
 view, than as so many persons, that, by receiving the 
 gifts and graces of God, are to become his hope, his 
 joy, and his crown of rejoicing. He goes about his 
 parish, and visits every body in it ; but visits in the 
 same spirit of piety that he preaches to them ; he 
 visits them to encourage their virtues, to assist them 
 with his advice and counsel, to discover their manner 
 of life, and to know the state of their souls, that he may 
 intercede with God for them, according to their parti- 
 cular necessities. 
 
 When Ouranius first entered into holy orders, he 
 had a haughtiness in his temper, a great contempt and 
 disregard for all foolish and unreasonable people ; but 
 he has prayed away this spirit, and has now the great- 
 est tenderness for the most obstinate sinners ; because 
 he is always hoping, that God will sooner or later hear 
 those prayers that he makes for their repentance. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 297 
 
 The rudeness, ill-nature, or perverse behaviour of any 
 of his flock, used at first to betray him into impatience ; 
 but it now raises no other passion in him, than a de- 
 sire of being upon his knees in prayer to God for 
 them. 
 
 Thus have his prayers for others altered and amend- 
 ed the state of his own heart. It would strangely de- 
 light you to see with what spirit he converses, with 
 what tenderness he reproves, with what affection he 
 exhorts, and with what vigour he preaches ; and it is 
 all owing to this, because he reproves, exhorts, and 
 preaches to those for whom he first prays to God. 
 This devotion softens his heart, enlightens his mind, 
 sweetens his temper, and makes every thing that comes 
 from hini instructive, amiable, and afiecting. At his 
 first coming to this little village, it was as disagreeable 
 to him as a prison, and every day seemed too tedious 
 to be endured in so retired a place. He thought his 
 parish was too full of poor and mean people, that 
 were none of them fit for the conversation of a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 This put him upon a close application to his stu- 
 dies. He kept much at home, writ notes upon Homer 
 and Plautus, and sometimes thought it hard to be call- 
 ed to pray by any poor body, when he was just in the 
 midst of one of Homer's battles. This was his polite, 
 or I may rather say, poor ignorant turn of mind, be- 
 fore devotion had got the government of his heart. 
 But now his days are so far from being tedious, or his 
 parish too great a retirement, that he now only wants 
 more time to do that variety of good which his soul 
 thirsts after. The solitude of his little parish is be- 
 come matter of great comfort to him ; because he 
 hopes that God has placed him and his Hock there, 
 to make it their way to heaven. He can now not only 
 converse with, but gladly attend and wait upon, the 
 poorest kind of people. He is now daily watching 
 over the weak and infirm, humbling himself to per- 
 verse, rude, ignorant people, wherever he can find 
 
298 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 them ; and is so far from desiring to be considered 
 as a gentleman^ that he desires to be used as the ser- 
 vant of all ; and, in the spirit of his Lord and Master, 
 girds himself, and is glad to kneel down and wash any 
 of their feet. He now thinks the poorest creature in his 
 parish good enougli, and great enough, to deserve the 
 humblest attendances, the kindest friendships, the ten- 
 derest offices, he can possibly shew them. He is so 
 far now from wanting agreeable company, that he 
 thinks there is no better conversation in the world, 
 than to be talking with poor and mean people about 
 the kin,^dom of heaven. All these noble thou<>hts 
 and divine sentiments arc the eOects of his great devo- 
 tion ; he presents every one so often before God in 
 his prayers, that he never thinks he can esteem, re- 
 verence, or serve those enough, for whom he implores 
 £0 many mercies from God. 
 
 Oaranius is mightily alfccted with this passage of 
 holy scripture : The effectual fervent prayer of a 
 righteous man availetli much, Jam.es v. \^. This 
 makes him practice all the arts of holy living-, and as- 
 pire after every instance of piety and righteousness, 
 that his prayers for his ilock may have their full force, 
 and avail much with God. i^'or this reason he has 
 sold a small estate that he had, and has erected a cha- 
 ritable retirement for ancient, poor people, to live in 
 prayer and piety — that his prayers, being assisted by 
 such good vvorkpi, may pierce the clouds, and bring 
 down blessings upon those souls committed to his care. 
 
 Ouranius reads how God himself said unto Abime- 
 lech concerning Abraham, He is a prophet: he shall 
 Jtraij for thee and thou shall live. Gen. xx. 7. And 
 -again, how he said of Job : And my servant Job shall 
 pray for you ; for him icill I accept, Job xlii. 8. 
 
 From these passages Ouranius justly concludes, 
 that the prayers of men eminent for holiness of life 
 have an extraordinary power with God; that he grants 
 to other people such pardons, reliefs, and blessings, 
 Ihrouo-U their prayers, as would not be granted to men 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 299 
 
 of less piety and perfection. This makes Ouranius 
 exceeding studious of Christian perfection, searching 
 after every grace and holy temper, purifying his heart 
 all manner of ways, fearful of every error and defect 
 in his life, lest his prayers for his flock should be less 
 availing with God, through his own defects in holiness. 
 
 This makes him careful of every temper of his 
 heart, give alms of all that he hath, watch, and fast, 
 and mortify, and live according to the strictest rules 
 of temperance, meekness, and humility, that he may 
 be in some degree like an Abraham, or a Job, in his 
 parish, and make such prayers for them as God will 
 hear and accept. 
 
 These are the happy effects, which a devout inter- 
 cession hath procured in the life of Ouranius. And if 
 other people, in their several stations, were to imitate 
 this example, in such a manner as suited their particu- 
 lar state of life, they would certainly find the same 
 happy effects from it. 
 
 If masters, for instance, were thus to remember 
 their servants in their prayers, beseeching God to bless 
 them, and suiting their petitions to tiie particular 
 wants and necessities of their servants ; letting no day 
 pass without a full performance of this part of devo- 
 tion, the benefit would be as o>reat to themselves as to 
 their servants. No way so likely as this, to inspire 
 him with a true sense of that power which they have 
 in their hands, to make them delight in doing good, 
 and becoming exemplary in all the parts of a wise 
 and good master. The presenting their servants so 
 often before God, as equally related to God, and enti- 
 tled to the same expectations of heaven as themselves, 
 would naturally incline them to treat them, not only 
 with such humanity as became fellow-creatures, but 
 with such tenderness, care, and generosity, as became 
 fellow-heirs of the same glory. This devotion would 
 make masters inclined to every thing that was good 
 towards their servants ; be watchful of their behaviour, 
 and as ready to require of them an exact observance 
 
500 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 of the duties of Christianity, as of the duties of their 
 service. This would teach them to consider their 
 servants as God's servants, to desire their perfection, 
 to do nothing- before them that might corrupt their 
 minds, to impose no business upon them that should 
 lessen their sense of religion, or hinder them from 
 their full share of devotion, both public and private. 
 This praying' for them would make them as glad to 
 see their servants eminent in piety as themselves, and 
 contrive that they should have all the opportunities 
 and encouragements, both to know and perform all 
 the duties of the Christian life. How natural would 
 it be for such a master to perform every part of family- 
 devotion ; to have constant prayers ; to excuse no 
 one's absence from them ; to have the Scriptures, and 
 books of piety, often read amongst his servants; to 
 take all opportunities of instructing them, of raising" 
 their minds to God, and teaching them to do all their 
 business, as a service to God, and upon the hopes and 
 expectations of another life ! How natural would it 
 be for such a one to pity their weakness and igno- 
 rance, to bear with the dulness of their understandings, 
 or the pervcrseness of their tempers ; to reprove them 
 with tenderness, exhort them with affection, as hoping- 
 that God would hear his prayers for them ! How im- 
 possible would it be for a master, that thus interceded 
 with God for his servants, to use any unkind threaten- 
 ings towards them, to damn and curse them as dogs 
 and scoundrels, and treat them only as the dregs of the 
 creation ! This devotion would give them another 
 spirit, and make them consider how to make proper 
 returns of care, kindness, and protection to those, who 
 had spent their strength and time in service and at- 
 tendance u})on them. 
 
 Now, if gentlemen think it so low an employment 
 for their state and dignity to exercise such a devotion 
 as this for their servants, let them consider how far 
 they are from the spirit of Christ, who made himself 
 not only an intercessor, but a sacrifice for the whole 
 race of sinful mankind. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 301 
 
 Let them consider how miserable tlieir g-reatness 
 would be, if the Son of God should think it as much 
 below him to pray for them, as tliey do to pray for 
 their fellow-creatures. Let them consider how far 
 they are from that spirit, which prays for its most un- 
 just enemies, if they have not kindness enoui^h to pray 
 for those by whose labour and service they live in 
 ease themselves. 
 
 Again ; If parents should thus make themselves ad- 
 vocates and intercessors with God for their children, 
 constantly applying- to heaven in behalf of them, no- 
 thing would be more likely, not only to bless their 
 children, but also to form and dispose their own minds 
 to the performance of every thing- that was excellent 
 and praiseworthy. I do not suppose but that the 
 g-enerality of parents remember their children in their 
 prayers, and call upon God to bless them. But the 
 thing- here intended is not a general remembrance 
 of them, but a regular metiiod of recommending all 
 their particular needs and necessities unto God ; and 
 of praying- for every such particular g-race and virtue 
 for them, as their state and condition of life shall see.n 
 to require. 
 
 The state of parents is a holy state, in some degree 
 like that of the priesthood, and calls upon them to 
 bless their children with their prayers and sacrifices 
 to God. Thus it was that holy Job watched over, 
 and blessed his children ; he aanctijicd them ; he rose 
 lip earhj in the morning, and offered burnt-ojl'ering-s, 
 according to the numl)er of them all. Job. i. 5. 
 
 If parejits, therefore, considering- themselves in this 
 light, should be daily calling- upon God in a solemn, 
 deliberate manner, altering and extending their inter- 
 cessions, as the state and growth of their children re- 
 quired, such devotion would have a mighty inlluence 
 upon the rest of their lives ; it would make them very 
 circumspect in the government of themselves ; prudent 
 and careful of every thing they said or did, lest their 
 example should hinder that, which they so constantly 
 
sot 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 desired in their prajers. If a father was daily making- 
 particular prayers to God, that he would please to in- 
 spire his children with true piety, great humility, and 
 strict temperance, what could be more likely to make 
 the father himself become exemplary in these virtues? 
 How naturally would he grow ashamed of wanting 
 such virtues as he thought necessary for his children ! 
 So that his prayers for their piety Avould be a certain 
 means of exalting his own to its greatest height. 
 
 If a father thus considered himself as an intercessor 
 with God for his children, to bless them with his pray- 
 ers, Avhat more likely means to make him aspire after 
 eveiy degree of holiness, that he might thereby be fit- 
 ter to obtain blessings from heaven for them? How 
 would such thoughts make him avoid every thing that 
 was sinful and displeasing- to God, lest, when he prayed 
 for his children, God should reject his prayers! How 
 tenderly, how religiously, would such a father con- 
 verse with his children, whom he considered as his 
 little spiritual flock, whose virtues he was to form by 
 his example, encourage by his authority, nourish by 
 his counsel, and prosper by his prayers to God for 
 them ! 
 
 How fearful would he be of all greedy and unjust 
 ways of raising- their fortune, of bringing- them up in 
 pride and indulgence, or of making them too fond of 
 the world, lest he should thereby render them incapa- 
 ble of those graces, which he was so often beseechinj^ 
 God to grant them. 
 
 Tiiese being- the plain, natural, happy effects of this 
 intercession, all parents, I hope, who have the real 
 welfare of tlieir children at heart, who desire to be 
 their true friends and benefactors, and to live amongst 
 them in the spirit of wisdom and piety, will not neg- 
 lect so great a means, both of raising their own virtue^ 
 and doing an eternal good to those who are so near 
 and dear to them by the strongest ties of nature. 
 
 Lastly. If all people, when they feel the first ap- 
 proaches of resentment^ envy, or contempt, towards 
 
•DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 303 
 
 others; or if, in all little disagreements and misunder- 
 standings whatever, they should, instead of indulging- 
 th^ir minds with little low retlections, have recourse 
 at such times to a more particular and extraordinary 
 intercession with God, for such persons as had raised 
 their envV;, resentment, or discontent, this would be a 
 certain way to prevent the growth of all uncharitable 
 tempers. If you was also to form your prayer or in- 
 tercession at that time, to the greatest degree of con- 
 trariety to that temper which you was then in, it would 
 be an excellent means of raising your heart to the 
 greatest state of perfection. As for instance : when 
 at any time you find in your heart motions of envy 
 towards any person, whether on account of his riches, 
 power, reputation, learning, or advancement, if you 
 should immediately betake yourself at that time to 
 your prayers, and pray to God to bless and prosper 
 him in that very thing which raised your envy ; if you 
 should express and repeat your petitions in the stronjj- 
 est terms, beseeching- God to grant him all the happi- 
 ness from the enjoyment of it that can possibly be re- 
 ceived, you will soon find it to be the best antidote in 
 the world to expel the vemon of that poisonous pas- 
 sion. This would be such a triumph over yourself, 
 would so humble and reduce your heart into oliedience 
 and order, that the devil would be even afraid of 
 tempting you again in the same manner, when he saw 
 the temptation turned into so great a means of amend- 
 ing- and reforming- the state of your heart. 
 
 Again ; If any little difierence or misunderstandings 
 that you happened to have at any time with a relation, 
 a neighbour, or any one else, you should then pray 
 for them in a more extraordinary manner than you 
 ever did before, beseeching God to give them every 
 grace, and blessing, and happiness you can think of, 
 you would have taken the speediest method that can 
 be, of reconciling all dilferences, and clearing up all 
 misunderstandings. You would then think nothing 
 too great to be forgiven, stay for no condescensions. 
 
304 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 need no mediation of a third person, but be glad to 
 testify your love and good will to him, who had so 
 high a place in your secret prayers. This Avould be 
 the mighty power of such Christian devotion ; it would 
 remove all peevish passions, soften your heart into the 
 most tender condescensions, and be the best arbitrator 
 of all differences that happened between you and any 
 of your acquaintance. 
 
 The greatest resentments amongst friends and 
 neighbours most often arise from poor punctilios and 
 little mistakes in conduct. A certain sign that their 
 friendship is merely human, not founded upon religi- 
 ous considerations, or supported by such a course of 
 mutual prayer for one another, as the first Christians 
 used. For such devotion must necessarily either de- 
 stroy such tempers, or be itself destroyed by them. 
 You cannot possibly have any ill temper, or shew any 
 unkind behaviour to a man for whose welfare you are 
 so much concerned, as to be his advocate with God in 
 private. 
 
 Hence we may learn the odious nature and exceed- 
 ing guilt of spite, hatred, contempt, and angry passions ; 
 they are not to be considered as defects in good nature 
 and sweetness of temper, not as failings in civility of 
 manners or good breeding, but as such base tempers, 
 as are entirely inconsistent uith the charity of inter- 
 cession. You think it a small matter to be peevish or 
 ill-natured to such or such a man ; but you should 
 consider, vvhetlier it be a small matter to do that, which 
 you could not do, if you had but so much charity as to 
 be able to recommend him to God in your prayers. 
 You think it a small matter to ridicule one man, and 
 despise another ; but you should consider, whether it 
 be a small matter to want that charity towards these 
 people, which Christians are not allowed to want to- 
 wards their most inveterate enemies. For be but as 
 charitable to these men, do but bless and pray for 
 them, as you are obliged to bless and pray for your 
 enemies^ and then you will find that you have charity 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 305 
 
 enough, to make it impossible for you to treat them 
 with any degree of scorn or contempt. For you can- 
 not possibly despise and ridicule that man whom your 
 private prayers recommend to the love and favour of 
 God. 
 
 When you despise and ridicule a man^ it is with no 
 other end but to make him ridiculous and contempti- 
 ble in the eyes of other men_, and in order to prevent 
 their esteem of him. How therefore can it be possi- 
 ble for you sincerely to beseech God to bless that man 
 with the honour of his love and favour, whom you de- 
 sire men to treat as worthy of their contempt? 
 
 Could you out of love to a neighbour desire your 
 prince to honour him with every mark of esteem and 
 favour, and yet at the same time expose him to the 
 scorn and derision of your own servants? Yet this is 
 as possible, as to expose that man to the scorn and 
 contempt of your fellow creatures, whom you recom- 
 mend to the favour of God in your secret prayers. 
 
 From these considerations we may plainly discover 
 the reasonableness and justice of this doctrine of the 
 Gospel, Whosoever shall say unto his brother, Raca, 
 shall be in danger of the council ; but ivhosoever 
 shall saj/, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell f re, 
 Matt. V. 22. We are not, I suppose, to believe that 
 every hasty word, or unreasonable expression that 
 slips from us by chance or surprise, and is contrary to 
 our intention and tempers, is the great sin here signi- 
 fied. Cut he that says, Raca, or Thou fool, must 
 chiefly mean him that allows himself in deliberate, de- 
 signed acts of scorn and contempt towards his brother,, 
 and in that temper speaks to him, and of him, in re- 
 proachful language. 
 
 Now since it appears that these tempers are at the 
 bottom the most rank uncharitableness, since no one 
 can be guilty of them, but because he has not charity 
 enough to pray to God for his brother ; it cannot be 
 thought hard or rigorous justice, that such tempers 
 should endanger the salvation of Christians. For who 
 
SOG A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 would think it liard^ that a Christian cannot obtain the 
 favour of God for himself, unless he reverence and es- 
 teem his brother Christian, as one that bears the imai^e 
 of God, as one for whom Christ died, as a member of 
 Christ's body, as a member of that holy society on 
 earth, which is in union with that triumphant church 
 in heaven? Yet all these considerations must be for- 
 got, all these glorious privileges disregarded, before 
 man can treat him that has them, as an object of 
 scorn and contemi>t. So that to scorn or despise a 
 brother, or, as our blessed Lord says, to call him Raca or 
 Fool, must be looked upoj3, as amongst the most 
 odious, unjust, and guilty tempers, that can be support- 
 ed in the heart of a Christian, and justly excluding 
 him from all his hopes in the salvation of Jesus Christ. 
 For to despise one for whom Christ died, is to be as 
 contrary to Christ, as he that despises any thing that 
 Christ has said, or done. 
 
 If a Christian that had lived with the holy Virgin 
 Mary, should, after the death of our Lord, have taken 
 any occasion to treat her with contempt, you would 
 certainly say, that he had lost his piety towards our 
 blessed Lord. For a true reverence for Christ must 
 have forced him to treat her with respect, who was so 
 nearly related to him. 
 
 1 dare appeal to any man's mind, whether it does 
 not tell him, that this relation of the Virgin Mary to 
 our. blessed Lord, must liave obliged all those that 
 lived and conversed with her, to treat her with great 
 respect and esteem. Might not a man have justly 
 dreaded the vengeance of God upon him, for any 
 scorn and contempt that he had shewn to her? 
 
 Now if this be plain and obvious reasoning, if a 
 contempt offered to tlie Virgin Mary must have been 
 interpreted a contempt of Christ, because of her near 
 relation to him ; then let the same reason shew you 
 the great impiety of despising any brother. You 
 cannot despise a l3rother, without despising him that 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 307 
 
 stands in a high relation to God, to his Son Jesus 
 Christy and to the Holy Trinity. 
 
 You would certainly tiiink it a mighty impiety to 
 treat a writing- with great contempt^ that had been 
 written by the finger of God ; and can you think it a 
 less impiety to contemn and vilify a brother, who is 
 not only the workmanship, but the image of God? 
 You would justly think it great prophaneness to con- 
 temn and trample upon an altar, because it was ap- 
 propriated to holy uses', and had had the body of 
 Christ so often placed upon it ; and can you suppose 
 it to be less prophaneness to scorn and trample upon 
 a brother, who so belongs to God, that his very body 
 is to be considered as the temple of the Holij Ghost, 
 J Cor. vi. 15. 
 
 Had you despised and ill-treated the Virgin Mary, 
 you had been chargeable with the impiety of despising- 
 her, of whom Christ was born. And if you scorn and 
 despise a brother, you are chargeable with the impiety 
 of despising him, for whom Christ laid down his life. 
 And now if this scornful temper is founded upon a dis- 
 regard of all tliese relations, which every Christian 
 bears to God, and Christ, and the Holy Trinity, can 
 you wonder, or think it hard, that a Christian who 
 thus allows himself to despise a brother should be iii 
 danger of hell fire? 
 
 Secondly, It must here be observed, that though in 
 these words. Whosoever shall say. Thou fool, &c., the 
 gTeat sin there contemned is an allowed temper of de- 
 spising a brother ; yet we are also to believe, that all 
 hasty expressions, and words of contempt, though 
 spoken by surprise or accident, are by this text con- 
 demned as great sins, and notorious breaches of 
 Christian charity. 
 
 They proceed from g-reat want of Christian love 
 and meekness, and call for great repentance. They 
 are only little sins when compared with habits and 
 settled tempers of treating- a brother despitefully, and 
 
 x2 
 
308 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 fall as directly under the condemnption of this text^ 
 as the a:rossest habits of uncharitableness. And the 
 reason why we are always to apprehend great guilty 
 and call ourselves to a strict repentance for these 
 hasty expressions of anger and contempt^ is this; be- 
 cause they seldom are what they seem to be, that is, 
 mere starts of temper, that are occasioned purely by 
 surprise or accident; but are much more our own 
 proper acts, than we generally imagine. 
 
 A man says a great many bitter things ; he present- 
 ly forgives himself, because he supposes it was only 
 the suddenness of the occasion, or something acciden- 
 tal, that carried him so far beyond himself But he 
 should consider, that perhaps the accident, or surprise, 
 was not the occasion of his angry expressions, but 
 might only be the occasion of his angry temper shew- 
 ing itself Now as this is, generally speaking, the 
 case, as all haughty, angry language generally pro- 
 ceeds from some secret habits of pride in the heart ; 
 so people that are subject to it, thoug-li only now and 
 then as accidents happen, have great reason to repent 
 of more than their present behaviour, to charge them- 
 selves with greater guilt than accidental passion, and 
 to bring themselves to such penance and mortification, 
 as is proper to destroy habits of a haughty spirii. 
 And this may be the reason, why the text looks no far- 
 ther than the outward language ; why it only says. 
 Whosoever shall say. Thou fool ; because few can 
 proceed so far, as to the accidental use of haughty, 
 disdainful language, but they whose hearts are more 
 or less possessed with habits and settled tempers of 
 pride and haughtiness. 
 
 But to return : Intercession is not only the best ar- 
 bitrator of all differences, the best promoter of true 
 friendship, the best cure and preservative against all 
 -unkind tempers, all angry and haughty passions, but 
 is also of great use to discover to us the true state of 
 our own hearts. 
 
 There are many tempers which we think lawful 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 809 
 
 and innocent, which we never suspect of any harm ; 
 which, if they were to be tried by this devotion, would 
 soon shew us how we have deceived ourselves. 
 
 Susurrus is a pious, temperate, good man, remark- 
 able for abundance of excellent qualities. No one 
 more constant at the service of the church, or whose 
 heart is more affected with it. His charity is so great, 
 that he almost starves himself, to be able to give great- 
 er alms to the poor. Yet Susurrus had a prodigious 
 failing along with these great virtues. He had a 
 mighty inclination to hear and discover all the defects 
 and infirmities of all about him. You was welcome 
 to tell him any thing of any body, provided that you 
 did not do it in the style of an enemy. He never dis- 
 liked an evil speaker, but when his language was 
 rough and passionate. If you would but whisper any 
 thing gently, though it was ever so bad in itself, Su- 
 surrus was ready to receive it. When he visits, you 
 generally hear him relating how sorry he is for the 
 defects and failings of such a neighbour. He is al- 
 ways letting you know how tender he is of the repu- 
 tation of his neighbour; how loth to say that which 
 he is forced to say ; and how gladly he would conceal 
 itj if it could be concealed. 
 
 Susurrus had such a tender, compassionate manner 
 of relating things the most prejudicial to his neigh- 
 bour, that he even seemed, both to himself and others, 
 to be exercising a Christian charity at the same time 
 that he was indulging a whispering, evil-speaking 
 temper. 
 
 Susurrus once whispered to a particular friend in 
 great secrecy, something too bad to be spoke of pub- 
 licly. He ended with saying, how glad he was, that 
 it had not yet took wind, and that he had some hopes 
 it might not be true, though the suspicions were 
 strong. His friend made him this reply : You say, 
 Susurrus, that you are glad it has not yet taken wind; 
 and that you have some hopes it may not prove true. 
 Go home, therefore, to your closet, and pray to God 
 
 x3 
 
310 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 for this man, in such a manner^ and with such earnest- 
 ness as you would pray for yourself on the like occa- 
 sion. 
 
 Beseech God to interpose in liis favour, to save him 
 from false accusers, and bring- all those to shame who, 
 by uncharitable whispers and secret stories, wound 
 l)im, like those who stab in the dark. And when you 
 have made this prayer, then you may, if you please, 
 go tell the same secret to some other friend, that you 
 have told to me. 
 
 Susurrus wa§ exceedingly affected with this rebuke, 
 and felt the force of it upon his conscience in as lively 
 a manner, as if he had seen the books opened at the 
 day of judgment. All other arguments might have 
 been resisted; but it was impossible for vSusurrus 
 either to reject, or to follow this advice, without being 
 equally self-condemned in the highest degree. From 
 that time to this he has constantly used himself to this 
 method of intercession ; and his heart is so entirely 
 changed by it, that he can now no more privately 
 whisper any thing to the prejudice of another, than he 
 can openly pray to God to do people hurt. Whisper- 
 ings and evil-speakings now hurt his ears, like oaths 
 and curses ; and he has appointed one day in the week 
 to be a day of penance as long as he lives, to humble 
 himself before God, in the sorrowful confession of his 
 former guilt. It may well be wondered how a man 
 of so much piety as Susurrus could be so long deceiv- 
 ed in himself, as to live in such a slate of scandal and 
 evil-speaking, without suspecting himself to be guilty 
 of it. But it was the tenderness and seeming compas- 
 sion with which he heard and related every thing, 
 that deceived both himself and others. This was a 
 falseness of heart, which was only to be fully discover- 
 ed by the true charity of intercession. And if people 
 of virtue, who think little harm of themselves, as Su- 
 surrus did, were often to try their spirit by such an in- 
 tercession, they would often find themselves to be 
 such, as they least of all suspected. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 311 
 
 I have laid before you the many and great advan- 
 tages of intercession. You have seen what a divine 
 friendship it must needs beget amongst Christians ; 
 how dear it would render all relations and neighbours 
 to one another; how it tends to make clergymen^ 
 masters, and parents exemplary and perfect in all the 
 duties of their station ; how certainly it destroys all 
 envy, spite, and ill-natured passions ; how speedily it 
 reconciles all ditferences ; and with what a piercing- 
 light it discovers to a man the true state of his heart. 
 
 These considerations will, I hope, persuade you to 
 make such intercession as is proper for your state, the 
 constant, chief matter of your devotion at this hour of 
 prayer. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Recommending Devotion at three o'clock, called in 
 Scripture the ninth hour of the day. The subject 
 of prayer at this hour is Resignation to the divine 
 pleasure. The nature and duty of conformity to 
 the will of God in all our actions and designs. 
 
 I HAVE recommended certain subjects to be made 
 the fixed and chief matter of your devotions, at all the 
 hours of prayer that have been already considered. 
 As thanksgiving, and oblation of yourself to God, at 
 your first prayers in the morning; at nine, the great 
 virtue of Christian humility is to be the chief part of 
 your petitions ; at twelve, you are called upon to pray 
 for all the graces of universal love, and to raise it in 
 your heart by such general and particular interces- 
 sions, as your own state and relation to other people 
 seem more particularly to require of you. At this 
 hour of the afternoon you are desired to consider the 
 necessity of resignation and conformity to the will of 
 God, and to make this great virtue the principal mat- 
 ter of your prayers. 
 
 X 4 
 
313 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 There is nothing wise, or holy, or just, but the 
 great will of God. This is as strictly true in the most 
 rig-id sense, as to say that nothing is infinite and eter- 
 nal but God. No beings, therefore, whether in hea- 
 ven or on earth, can be wise, or holy, or just, but 
 so far as they conform to this will of God. It is con- 
 formity to this will, that gives virtue and perfection to 
 the highest services of angels in heaven ; and it is 
 conformity to the same will that makes the ordinary 
 actions of men on earth become an acceptable service 
 unto God. 
 
 The whole nature of virtue consists in conforming, 
 and the whole nature of vice in declining from the will of 
 God. All God's creatures are created to fulfil his will ; 
 the sun and moon obey his will, by the necessity of 
 their nature : angels conform to his will by the perfec- 
 tion of their nature. If, therefore, you would shew 
 yourself not to be a rebel and apostate from the order 
 of the creation, jou must act like beings both above 
 and below you ; it must be the great desire of your 
 soul, that God's will may be done by you on earth, as 
 it is done in heaven. It must be the settled purpose 
 and intention of your heart, to will nothing, design 
 nothing, do nothing, but so far as you have reason to 
 believe thai it is the will of God that you should so de- 
 sire, design, and do. It is as just and necessary to 
 live in this state of heart, to think thus of God and 
 yourself, as to think that you have any dependence 
 upon him. And it is as great a rebellion against God, 
 to think that your will may ever differ from his, as to 
 think that you have not received the power of willing 
 from him. You are, therefore, to consider yourself 
 as a being that has no other business in the world, but 
 to be that which God requires you to be ; to have no 
 tempers, no rules of your own ; to seek no self-de- 
 signs or self-ends, but to fill some place, and act some 
 part in strict conformity and thankful resignation to 
 the divine pleasure. To think that you are your own, 
 or at your own disposal, is as absurd as to think that 
 you created, and can preserve yourself. It is as 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY tIFE. 315 
 
 plain and necessary a first principle, to believe that 
 you are thus God's, that you thus belong to him, and 
 are to act and suffer all in a thankful resignation to his 
 pleasure, as to believe, that in him you live, and move, 
 and have your being. 
 
 Resignation to the divine will signifies a cheerful 
 approbation and thankful acceptance of every thing 
 that comes from God. It is not enough patiently to 
 submit, but we must thankfully receive and fully ap- 
 prove of every thing that, by the order of God's provi- 
 dence, happens to us. For there is no reason why we 
 should be patient, but what is as good and strong a 
 reason why we should be thankful. If we were un- 
 der the hands of a wise and good physician, that could 
 not mistake, or do any thing to us but what certainly 
 tended to our benefit, it would not be enough to be 
 patient, and abstain from murmuring against such a 
 physician ; but it would be as great a breach of duty 
 and gratitude to him, not to be pleased and thankful 
 for what he did, as it would be to murmur at him. 
 Now this is our true state with relation to God ; we 
 cannot be said so much as to believe in him, unless we 
 believe him to be of infinite wisdom. Every argu- 
 ment, therefore, for patience under his disposal of us, 
 is as strong an argument for approbation and thank- 
 fulness for every thing that he does to us. And there 
 needs no more to dispose us to this gratitude towards 
 God, than a full belief in him, that he is this being 
 of infinite wisdom, love, and goodness. Do but assent 
 to this truth, in the same manner as you assent to 
 things of which you have no doubt, and then you will 
 cheerfully approve of every thing that God has already 
 approved for you. For as you cannot possibly be 
 pleased with the behaviour of any person towards you, 
 but because it is for your good, is wise in itself, 
 and the effect of his love and goodness towards you ; 
 so when you are satisfied that God does not only do that 
 which is wise, and good, and kind, but that which is 
 the effect of an infinite wisdom and love in the care of 
 
314 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 you ; it will be as necessary, whilst you have this faith, 
 to be thankful and be pleased with every thing which 
 God chuses for you, as to wish your own happiness. 
 Whenever therefore you find yourself disposed to un- 
 easiness, or murmuring at any thing* that is the eftect 
 of God's providence over you, you must look upon 
 yourself as denying either the wisdom or goodness of 
 God. For every complaint necessarily supposes this. 
 You would never complain of your neighbour, but 
 that you suppose you can shew either his unwise, un- 
 just, or unkind behaviour towards you. Now every 
 murmuring, impatient rejection under the providence 
 of God, is the same accusation of God. A complaint 
 alwayis supposes ill usage. 
 
 Hence also you may see the great necessity and 
 piety of this thankful state of heart, because the want 
 of it implies an accusation of God's want either of wis- 
 dom, or goodness, in his disposal of us. It is not 
 therefore any high degree of perfection, founded in 
 any uncommon nicety of thinking, or refined notions, 
 but a plain principle, founded in this plain belief, that 
 God is a being of infinite wisdom and goodness. Now 
 this resignation to the divine will, may be considered 
 in two respects : First, As it signifies a thankful ap- 
 probation of God's general providence over the world : 
 Secondly, \s it signifies a thankful acceptance of his 
 particular providence over us. 
 
 First, Every man is by the law of his creation, by 
 the first article of his creed, obliged to consent to, and 
 acknowledge the wisdom and goodness of God, in his 
 general providence over the whole world. He is to 
 believe that it is the effect of God's great wisdom and 
 goodness, that the world itself was formed at such a 
 particular time, and in such a manner. That the ge- 
 neral order of nature, the whole frame of things, is 
 contrived and formed in the best manner. He is to 
 believe that God's providence over states and kingdoms, 
 times and seasons, is all for the best. That the revo- 
 lutions .of state, and changes of empire, the rise and 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 315 
 
 fall of monarchies, persecutions, wars, famines, and 
 plagues, are all permitted, and conducted by God's 
 providence, to the general good of man in this state 
 of trial. A good man is to believe all this, with the 
 same fulness of assent, as he believes that God is in 
 every place, though he neither sees, nor can compre- 
 hend the manner of his presence This is a noble mag- 
 nificence of thought, a true religious greatness of mind, 
 to be thus affected with God's general providence, ad- 
 miring and magnifying his wisdom in all things ; never 
 murmuring at the course of the world, or the state of 
 things, but looking upon all around, at heaven and 
 earth, as a pleased spectator ; and adoring that invisi- 
 ble hand, which gives laws to all motions, and over- 
 rules all events to ends suitable to the highest wisdom 
 and goodness. 
 
 It is very common for people to allow themselves 
 great Hberty in finding fault with such things as have 
 only God for their cause. Every one thinks he may 
 justly say, what a wretched, abominable climate he 
 lives in. This man is frequently telling you, what a 
 dismal, cursed day it is, and what intolerable seasons 
 we have. Another thinks he has very little to thank 
 God for, that it is hardly worth his while to live in a 
 world so full of changes and revolutions. But these 
 are tempers of great impiety, and shew tiiat religion 
 has not yet its seat in the heart of those tliat have them. 
 It sounds indeed much better to murmur at the course 
 of the world, or the state of things, than to murmur 
 at providence ; to complain of the seasons and weather, 
 than to complain of God ; but, if these have no other 
 cause but God and his providence, it is a poor dis- 
 tinction to say, that you are only angry at the things, 
 but not at the cause and director of them. 
 
 How sacred the whole frame of the world is, how 
 all things are to be considered as God's, and referred 
 to him, is fully taught by our blessed Lord in the case 
 of oaths : But I say unto you. Swear not at all ; 
 neither hy heaven, for it is God's throne ; nor by the 
 
^16 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 earth, for it is his footstool ; neither by Jerusalentj 
 for it is the city of the great King ; neither shaltthou 
 swear hy thy head, because thou canst not make one 
 hair white or black ; Mat. v. 37. ; that is, because the 
 whiteness or blackness of thy hair is not thine, but 
 God's. 
 
 Here you see all things in the whole order of na- 
 ture, from the highest heavens to the smallest hair, 
 are always to be considered, not separately as they are 
 in themselves, but as in some relation to God. And if 
 this be good reasoning, thou shalt not swear by the 
 earth, a city, or thy hair, because these things are God's, 
 and in a certain manner belong to him ; is it not ex- 
 actly the same reasoning to say. Thou shalt not mur- 
 mur at the seasons of the earth, the states of cities, 
 and the change of times, because all these things are 
 in the hands of God, have him for their author, are 
 directed and governed by him to such ends, as are 
 most suitable to his wise providence? 
 
 If you think you can murmur at the state of things 
 without murmuring at Providence, or complain of sea- 
 sons without complaining of God; hear what our 
 blessed Lord says farther upon oaths : Whoso shall 
 isicear by the altar, siceareth by it, and all things 
 thereon : and whoso shall sioear by the temple, swear- 
 eth by him that dicelleth therein : and he that shall 
 swear by heaven, sweareth by the throne of God, and 
 by him that sitteth thereon. Matt, xxiii. 20. Now 
 does not this scripture plainly oblige us to reason after 
 this manner : Whoso murmurs at the course of the 
 world, murmurs at God that governs the course of the 
 world. Whoso repines at seasons and weather, and 
 speaks impatiently of times and events, repines and 
 speaketh impatiently of God, who is the sole Lord and 
 Governor of times, seasons, and events. As therefore, 
 when we think of God himself, we are to have no sen- 
 timents but of praise and thanksgiving; so when we 
 look at those things which are under the direction of 
 God, and governed by his providence, we are to re- 
 
DETOUT AND HOLY LIFB. 317 
 
 ceive them with the same tempers of praise and gra- 
 titude. And though we are not to think all things 
 right, and just, and lawful, which the providence of 
 God permits ; for then nothing could be unjust, be- 
 cause nothing is without his permission; yet we must 
 adore God in the greatest public calamities, the most 
 grievous persecutions, as things that are suffered by 
 God, like plagues and famines, for ends suitable to his 
 wisdom and glory in the government of the world. 
 
 There is nothing more suitable to the piety of a 
 reasonable creature, or the spirit of a Christian, than 
 thus to approve, admire, and glorify God in all the 
 acts of his general providence : considering the whole 
 world as his particular family, and all events as directed 
 by his wisdom. 
 
 Every one seems to consent to this, as an undeniable 
 truth. That all things must he as God pleases ; and 
 is not this enough to make every man pleased with 
 them himself? And how can a man be a peevish com- 
 plainer of any thing that is the effect of providence, 
 but by shewing that his own self-will and self-wisdom 
 is of more weight with him, than the will and wisdom 
 of God? And what can religion be said to have done 
 for a man, whose heart is in this state? 
 
 For if he cannot thank and praise God, as well in 
 calamities and sufferings, as in prosperity and happi- 
 ness, he is as far from the piety of a Christian, as he 
 that only loves them that loves him is from the charity 
 of a Christian. For to thank God only for such things 
 as you like, is no more a proper act of piety, than to 
 believe only what you see, is an act of faith 
 
 Resignation and thanksgiving to God are only acts 
 of piety, when they are acts of faith, trust, and confi- 
 dence in the divine goodness. The faith of Abraham 
 was an act of true piety, because it stopped at no diffi- 
 culties, was not altered or lessened by any human ap- 
 pearances. It first of all carried him, against all shew 
 of happiness, from his own kindred and country, into 
 a strange land^ not knowing whither he went. It af- 
 
SI 8 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 terwards made him, against all appearance of nature^ 
 when his bodij was dead, lohen he was about a7i hun- 
 dred t/ears old, depend upon the promise of God, be- 
 ing J ulh/ persuaded, that what God had promised he 
 was able to perform. It was this same faith, that 
 against so many pleas of nature, so many appearances 
 of reason, prevailed npon him to offer up Isaac — ac- 
 counting that God loas able to raise him up from the 
 dead. Heb. xi. 17, 19. Now this faith is the true 
 pattern of Christian resignation to the divine pleasure ; 
 you are to thank and praise God, not only for things 
 agreeable to you, that have the appearance of happi- 
 ness and comfort : but when you are, like Abraham, 
 called from all appearance of comfort, to be a pilgrim 
 in a strange land, to part with an only son • being as fully 
 persuaded of the divine goodness in all things that hap- 
 pen to you, as Abraham was of the divine promise, when 
 there was the least appearance of its being* performed. 
 
 This is true Christian resignation to God, which 
 requires no moie to the support of it, than such a plain 
 assurance of tlie goodness of God, as Abraham had of 
 his veracity. And if you ask yourself, what greater 
 reason Abraham had to depend upon the divine vera-^ 
 city, tlian you have to depend upon the divine good- 
 ri6sy, you will find that none can be given. You can- 
 not, therefore, look upon this as an unnecessary, high' 
 pitch of perfection, since the want of it implies the 
 wanty not of any high notions, but of a plain and or- 
 dinary faith in the most certain doctrines both of na- 
 tural and revealed religion. ; 
 
 Thus much concerrtins,' resioniation to the divine 
 will, as it signifies a thdnkfui approbation of God's 
 general providence: It is now to be considered, as it 
 signifies a thankful acceptance of God's particular 
 providence over us. 
 
 Every man is to considerdlimself as a particular ob- 
 ject of God's providence; under the same care and 
 protection of God, as if the world had been made for 
 iiim alone. It is not by chance that any man is born 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 519 
 
 at such a time, of such parents,, and in such place and 
 condition. It is as certain, that every soul comes into 
 the body at such a time, and in such circumstances, by 
 the express dcsignment of God,, according- to some 
 pur})o.ses of his vviil, and for some particuhir ends; 
 this is as certain, as that it is by the express design- 
 ment of God, that some being-s arc angels, and others 
 are men. It is as much by the counsel and eternal 
 purpose of God, that you should be born in your par- 
 ticular state, and that Isaac should be the son of Abra- 
 ham, as that Gabriel should be an angel, and Isaac a 
 man. The scriptures assure us, that it was by divine 
 appointment, that our blessed Saviour was born at 
 Bethlehem, and at such a time. Now, although it 
 was owing" to the dignity of his person, and the great 
 importance of his birth, that thus much of the divine 
 counsel was declared to the world concerning the time 
 and manner of it, yet we are as sure from the same 
 scriptures, that the time and manner of every man's 
 coming into the world, is according to some eternal 
 purposes and direction of divine providence, and in 
 such time and place, and circumstances, as are directed 
 ainl governed by God, for particular ends of his wis- 
 dbm and goodness. This we are as certain of, froin 
 plain revelation', as we can be of any thing. For if 
 we are told, that not a sparroic fallet/i to the ground 
 witJiout our heavenlj/ Fathei\ can any thing more' 
 strongly teach us, that much greater beings, such as 
 human souls, come not into the world without the care 
 and direction of our heavenly Father? If it is said, 
 Ike very hairffofijourheadare all numbered, is it not 
 to teach us, that nothing, not the smallest things ima- 
 ginable, happen to us by chance? But if the smallest 
 things we can conceive are declared to be under the 
 divine direction, need we, or can we be more plainly 
 taught, that the greatest things of life, such as the 
 manner of our coming into the world, our parents, the 
 timej and other circumstances of our birth and condi- 
 
S20 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 tion^ are all according- to the eternal purposes^ directioit, 
 and appointment of divine Providence? 
 
 When the disciples put this question to our blessed 
 Lord^ concerning the biiiid maii^ saying. Master, who 
 did sin, this 7nan, or his parents, that he was born 
 blind ? he that was the eternal wisdom of God made 
 this answer : Neither hath this man sinned, nor his 
 parents ; but that the tcorAs of God should be 7nade 
 manifest in him. John ix. 2, 3. Plainly declaring-, 
 that the particular circumstances of every man's birth, 
 the body that he receives, and the condition and state 
 of life into which he is born, are appointed by a secret 
 providence, which directs all things to their particular 
 times, and seasons, and manner of existence, that the 
 wisdom and works of God may be made manifest in 
 them all. As, therefore, it is thus certain, that we are 
 what we are, as to birth, time and condition of enter- 
 ing into the world ; since all that is particular in our 
 state is the effect of God's particular providence over 
 us_, and intended for some particular ends, both of his 
 glory and our own happiness, we are, by the greatest 
 obligations of gratitude, called upon to conform and 
 resign our w ill to the will of God in all these respects ; 
 thankfully approving and accepting every thing that 
 is particular in our state. Praising and glorifying his 
 name for our birth of such parents, and in such cir- 
 cumstances of state and condition ; being fully assured, 
 that it was for some reasons of infinite wisdom and 
 goodness, that we were so born into such particular 
 states of life. If the man above-mentioned was born 
 blind, that the works of God might be manifested in 
 him, had he not great reason to praise God for ap- 
 pointing him, in such a particular manner, to be the 
 instrument of his glory? And if one person is born 
 here, and another there ; if one falls amongst riches, 
 and another into poverty ; if one receives his flesh and 
 blood from these parents, and another from those, for 
 as particular ends, as the man was born blind ; have 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 321 
 
 not al! people the g-reatest reason to bless God, and 
 to be thankful for their particular state and condition, 
 because all that is particular in it is as directly intend- 
 ed for the glory of God, and their own good^ as the 
 particular blindness of that man, who was so born, 
 that the works of God might be manifested in him? 
 
 How noble an idea does this give us of the divine 
 Omniscience presiding over the whole world, and go- 
 verning* such a long" chain and combination of seeming 
 accidents and chances, to the common and particular 
 advantages of all beings ! So that all persons, in such 
 a wonderful variety of causes, accidents, and events, 
 should all fall into such particular states, as were fore- 
 seen and fore-ordained to their best advantage, and so 
 as to be most serviceable to the wise and glorious ends 
 of God's government of all the world. 
 
 Had you been any thing else than what you are, 
 you had, all things considered, been less wisely provi- 
 ded for than you are now ; you had wanted some cir- 
 cumstances and conditions that are best fitted to make 
 you happy yourself, and serviceable to the glory of 
 God. Could you see all that which God sees, all that 
 happy chain of causes and motives, which are to move 
 and invite you to a right course of life, you would see 
 something to make you like that state you are in, as 
 fitter for you than any other. But, as you cannot see 
 this, so it is here that your Christian faith and trust 
 in God is to exercise itself, and render you as grateful 
 and thankful for the happiness of your state, as if you 
 saw every thing that contributes to it with your own 
 eyes. But now, if this is the case of every man in the 
 world, thus blessed with some particular state that is 
 most convenient for him, how reasonable is it for 
 every man to will that which God lias already willed 
 for him ! and, by a pious faith and trust in the divine 
 goodness, thankfully adore and magnify that wise pro- 
 vidence, which he is sure has made the best choice for 
 him of these things, which he could not choose for 
 himself. 
 
^22 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Every uneasiness at our own state is founded upoR 
 "comparing- it with that of other people ; which is full 
 as unreasonable^ as if a man in a dropsy should be 
 angry at those that prescribe different things to him 
 from those which are prescribed to people in health. 
 For all the different states of life are like the different 
 states of diseases : what is a remedy to one man, in 
 his state, may be poison to another. So that to mur- 
 mur because you are not as some others are, is as if a 
 man, in one disease, should murmur that he is not 
 treated like him that is in another. Whereas, if he 
 was to have his will, he would be killed bv that which 
 will prove the cure of another. It is just thus in the 
 various conditions of life; if you give yourself up to 
 uneasiness, or complain at any thing in your state, 
 you may, for ought you know, be so ungrateful to God, 
 as to murmur at that very thing", which is to prove the 
 cause of your salvation. Had you it in your power to 
 g-et that which you think it so grievous to want, it 
 might perhaps be that very thing, which of all others 
 would most expose you to eternal damnation. So that, 
 whether we consider the infinite goodness of Ood, that 
 cannot choose amiss for us, or our own great ignorance 
 of what is most advantageous to us, there can be no- 
 thing so reasonable and pious as to have no will but 
 that of God's, and desire nothing for ourselves, in our 
 persons, our state, and condition, but that which the 
 good providence of God appoints us. Farther, as the 
 good providence of God thus introduces us into the 
 world, into such states and conditions of life as are 
 most convenient for us ; so the same unerring wisdom 
 orders all events and changes in the whole course of 
 our hves in such a manner, as to render them the fit- 
 test means to exercise and improve our virtue. No- 
 thing hurts us, nothing destroys us, but the ill use of 
 that liberty with which God has entrusted us. 
 
 We are as sure that nothing happens to us by 
 chance, as that the world itself was not made by 
 chance; we are as certain that all things happen and 
 
DfiVOUT AND HOLY LiPE. S23 
 
 work together for our good, as that God is goodness 
 itself. So that a man has as much reason to will 
 every thing that happens to him, because God wills it, 
 as to think that is wisest which is directed by infinite 
 wisdom. This is not cheating or soothing ourselves 
 into any false content, or imaginary happiness ; but is 
 a satisfaction, grounded upon as great a certainty as 
 the being and attributes of God. For, if we are right 
 in believing; God to act over us with infinite wisdom 
 and goodness, we cannot carry our notions, conformity _, 
 and resignation to the divine will too high ; nor can 
 we ever be deceived by thinking that to be best for us 
 which God has brought upon us. For the providence 
 of God is not more concerned in the government of 
 night and day, and the variety of seasons, than in the 
 common course of events that seem most to depend 
 upon the mere wills of men. So that it is as strictly 
 right to look upon all worldly accidents and changes, 
 all the various turns and alterations in your own life, 
 to be as truly the effects of divine Providence, as the 
 rising and setting of the sun, or the alterations of the 
 seasons of the year. As you are, therefore, always to 
 adore the wisdom of God in the direction of these 
 things ; so it is the same reasonable duty always to 
 magnify God, as an equal director of every thing that 
 happens to you, in the course of your own life. This 
 holy resignation and conformity of your will to the 
 will of God being so much the true state of piety, I 
 hope you will think it proper to make tliis hour of 
 prayer a constant season of applying to God for so 
 great a gift; that, by thus constantly praying for it, 
 your heart may be habitually disposed towards it, and 
 always in a state of readiness to look at every thing as 
 God's, and to consider him in every thing ; that so 
 every thing that befals you may be received in tlie spirit 
 of piety, and made a means of exercising some virtue. 
 There is nothing that so powerfully governs the 
 heart, that so strongly excites us to wise and reason- 
 able actions, as a true sense of God's presence. 
 
 y2 
 
324 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Biitj as we cannot see or apprehend the essence of 
 God ; so nothing will so constantly keep us under a 
 lively sense of the presence of God, as this holy resig- 
 nation, which attributes every thing to him, and re- 
 ceives every thing as from him. 
 
 Could we see a miracle from God, ho\v would our 
 thoughts be affected with an holy awe and veneration 
 of his presence ! But if we consider every thing as 
 God's doing, either by order or permission, we shall 
 then be affected with common things as they would 
 be who saw a miracle. For, as there is nothing to af- 
 fect you in a miracle, but as it is the action of God, 
 and bespeaks his presence ; so, when you consider 
 God as acting in all things and all events, then all 
 things will become venerable to you, like miracles, 
 and fiiil you with the same awful sentiments of the di- 
 vine presence. Now you must not reserve the exer- 
 cise of this pious temper to any particular times or oc- 
 casions, or fancy how resigned you will be to God, if 
 such or such trials should happen ; for this is amusing 
 yourself with the notion or idea of resignation, instead 
 of the virtue itself Do not, therefore, please your- 
 self with thinking how piously you would act and sub- 
 mit to God in a plague, a famine, or persecution ; but 
 be intent upon the perfection of the present day ; and 
 be assured, that the best way of shewing a true zeal 
 is to make little things the occasions of great piety. 
 
 Begin, therefore, in the smallest matters, and most 
 ordinary occasions, and accustom your mind to the 
 daily exercise of this pious temper, in the lowest oc- 
 currences of life. And when a contempt, an affront, 
 a little injury, loss, or disappointment, or the smallest 
 events of every day, continually raise your mind to 
 God in proper acts of resignation, then you may justly 
 hope, that you shall be numbered amongst those that 
 are resigned and thankful to God in the greatest trials 
 and afflictions. 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. S2j 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Of Evening Prayer. Of the nature and necessity 
 of Examination. How we are to he particular in 
 the Confession of all our Sins. How we are to Jill 
 our minds with a just horror and dread of all Sin. 
 
 I AM now come to six o'clock in the evening, which, 
 according to the scripture account, is called the twelfth, 
 or last hour of the day. This is a time so proper for 
 devotion, that 1 suppose nothing need be said to re- 
 commend it, as a season of prayer, to all people that 
 profess any regard to piety. As the labour and action 
 of every state of life is generally over at this hour, so 
 this is the proper time for every one to call himself to 
 account, and review all his behaviour, from the first 
 action of the day. The necessity of this examination 
 is founded upon the necessity of repentance. For if 
 it be necessary to repent of all our sins ; if the guilt of 
 unrepented sins still continue upon us, then it is ne- 
 cessary not only that our sins, but the particular cir- 
 cumstances and aggravations of them, be known, and 
 recollected, and brought to repentance. The Scrip- 
 ture saith. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and 
 just to for give us our sins, and to cleanse us from all 
 unrighteousness. J John i. 9. ; which is as much as 
 to say, that then only our sins are forgiven, and we 
 cleansed from the guilt and unrighteousness of them, 
 when they are thus confessed and repented of. 
 
 There seems, therefore, to be the greatest necessity, 
 that all our daily actions be constantly observed and 
 brought to account, lest, by a negligence, we load 
 ourselves with the guilt of unrepented sins. This 
 examination, therefore, of ourselves every evening, is 
 not only to be considered ns a commendable rule, and 
 fit for a wMse man to observe; but as something that 
 is as necessary as a daily confession and repentance of 
 our sins; because this dailv repentance is of very little 
 
 v3 
 
326 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 significancy^ and loses all its chief benefit, unless it be 
 a particular confession and repentance of the sins of 
 that day. This examination is necessary to repent- 
 ance in the same manner as time is necessary ; you 
 cannot repent or express your sorrow, unless you al- 
 low some time for it ; nor can you repent, but so far 
 as you know what it is that you are repenting- of. So 
 that, when it is said, that it is necessary to examine 
 and call your actions to account, it is only saying, that 
 it is necessary to know what, and how many things 
 you are to repent of. 
 
 You, perhaps, have hitherto only Used yourself to 
 confess yourself a sinner in general, and asked forgive- 
 ness in the gross, without any particular remembrance, 
 or contrition for the particular sins of that day ; and, 
 by this practice, you are brought to believe that the 
 same short, general form of confession of sin in gene- 
 ral is a sufficient repentance for every day. Suppose 
 another person should hold that a confession of our 
 sins in general, once at the end of every week, was 
 sufficient; and that it was as well to confess the sins 
 of seven days altogether, as to have a particular re- 
 pentance at the end of every day. 
 
 I know you sufficiently to see the unreasonableness 
 and impiety of this opinion, and that you think it is 
 easy enough to shew the danger and folly of it : yet 
 you cannot bring one argument against such an opi- 
 nion, but what will be as good an argument against 
 such a daily repentance, as does not call the particu- 
 lar sins of that day to a strict account. For as you can 
 bring no express text of Scripture against such an 
 opinion, but must take all your arguments from the 
 nature of repentance and the necessity of a particular 
 repentance for particular sins; so every argument of 
 that kind must as fully prove the necessity of being- 
 very particular in our repentance of the sins of every 
 day; since nothing can he justly said against leaving 
 the sins of the whole week to be repented for in the 
 gross, but what may as justly be said against a daily 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 327 
 
 repentance, which considers the sins of that day only 
 in the gross. 
 
 Would you tell such a man, that a daily confession 
 was necessary to keep up an abhorrence of sin, that 
 the mind would grow hardened and senseless of the 
 guilt of sin without it? And is not this as good a rea- 
 son for requiring- that your daily repentance be very 
 express and particular for your daily sins ? For if con- 
 fession is to raise an abhorrence of sin, surely that 
 confession which considers and lays open your parti- 
 cular sins, that brings them to light with all their cir- 
 cumstances and aggravations, that requires a particular 
 sorrowful acknowledgement of every sin, must, in a 
 much g-reater degree, fill the mind with an abhorrence 
 of sin, than that which only in one and the same form 
 of words confesses you only to be a sinner in general. 
 For as this is nothing but what the greatest saint may 
 justly say of himself; so the daily repeating of only 
 such a confession has nothing in it to make you truly 
 ashamed of your own way of life. 
 
 Again : Must you not tell such a man, that, by 
 leaving- himself to such a weekly, general confession, 
 he would be in great danger of forgetting a great many 
 of his sins? But is there any sense or force in this ar- 
 gument, unless you suppose that our sins are all to be 
 remembered and brought to a particular repentance? 
 And is it not as necessary that our particular sins be 
 not forgotten, but particularly remembered in your 
 daily, as in a repentance at any other time? So that 
 every argument for a daily confession and repentance 
 is the same argument for the confession and repent- 
 ance of the particular sins of every day : because daily 
 confession has no other reason or necessity but our 
 daily sins ; and therefore is notliing of what it should 
 be, but so far as it is repentance and sorrowful ac- 
 knowledgment of the sins of the day. 
 
 You would, I suppose, think yourself chargeable 
 with great impiety, if you was to go to bed without 
 confessing yourself to be a sinner, and asking pardon 
 
 Y 4 
 
328 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 of God : you would not think it sufficient that you did 
 so yesterday ; and yet, if, without any regard to the 
 present day, you only repeat the same form of words 
 that you used yesterday, the sins of the present may 
 justly be looked upon to have had no repentance. 
 For if the sins of the present day require a new con- 
 fession, it must be such a new confession as is proper 
 to itself. For it is the state and condition of <5very 
 day that is to determine the state and manner of your 
 repentance in the evening-; otherwise, the same ge- 
 neral form of words is rather an empty formality, that 
 has the appearance of a duty, than such a true perform- 
 ance of it, as is necessary to make it truly useful to you. 
 Let it be supposed, that on a certain day you have 
 been guilty of these sins : that you have told a vain lie 
 upon yourself, ascribing something falsely to yourself 
 through pride ; that you have been guilty of detrac- 
 tion, and indulged yourself in some degree of intem- 
 perance. Let it be supposed, that, on the next day, 
 you have lived in a contrary manner; that you have 
 neglected no duty of devotion, and been the rest of 
 the day innocently employed in your proper business. 
 Let it be supposed, that, on the evening of both these 
 days, you only use the same confession in general, con- 
 sidering it rather as a duty, that is to be performed 
 every night, than as a repentance that is to be suited 
 to the particular state of the day. Can it with any 
 reason be said, that each day has had its proper re- 
 pentance? Is it not as good sense to say, there is no 
 difference in the guilt of these days, as to say that there 
 need be no different repentance at the end of them? 
 Or how can each of them have its proper repentance, 
 but by its having a repentance as large, and extensive, 
 and particular, as the guilt of each day. 
 
 Again : Let it be supposed, that, in that day, when 
 you had been guilty of the three notorious sins above- 
 mentioned, that, in your evening repentance, you had 
 only called one of them to mind ; is it not plain, that 
 the other two are unrepented of, and that therefore 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 339^ 
 
 their guilt still abides upon you? So that you are 
 then in the state of him who commits himself to the 
 night without the repentance for such a day, as had 
 betrayed him into two such great sins. Now these are 
 not heedless particulars, or such scrupulous niceties, 
 as a man need not trouble himself about ; but are such 
 plain truths, as essentially concern the very life of 
 piety. For if repentance is necessary, it is full as 
 necessary that it might be rightly performed, and in 
 due manner. And 1 have entered into all these parti- 
 culars only to shew you, in the plainest manner, that 
 examination, and a careful review of all the actions of 
 the day, is not only to be looked upon as a good rule, 
 but as something as necessary as repentance itself. 
 
 If a man is to account for his expenses at night, 
 can it be thought a needless exactness in him, to take 
 notice of every particular expense in the day ? And if 
 a man is to repent of his sins at night, can it be thought 
 too great a piece of scrupulosity in him, to know and 
 not call to mind what sins he is to repent of? 
 
 Farther : Though it should be granted, that a con- 
 fession in general be a sufficient repentance for 
 the end of such days as have only the unavoidable 
 frailties of our nature to lament, yet even this fully 
 proves the absolute necessity of this self-examination: 
 for without this examination, who can know that he 
 has gone through any day in this manner? 
 
 Again : An evening repentance, which thus brings 
 all the actions of the day to account, is not only neces- 
 sary to wipe off tlie guilt of c in, but is also the most 
 certain way to amend and perfect our lives. For it is 
 only such a repentance as this, that touches tlie heart, 
 awakens the conscience, and leaves an horror and de- 
 testation of sin upon the mind. For instance : If it 
 should happen that upon any particular evening, all 
 that you could charge yourself with should be this, 
 viz. a hasty negligent performance of your devotions, 
 or too much time spent in an impertinent conversation ; 
 ifthe unreasonableness of these things were fully reflect- 
 
330 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 ed upon J and acknowledged ; if you was then to con- 
 demn yourself before God for them^ and implore hig 
 pardon and assisting grace^ what could be so likely a 
 means to prevent your falling into the same faults the 
 next day? Or if you should fall into them again the 
 next day ; yet if they were again brought to the same 
 examination and condemnation in the presence of God, 
 their happening again would be such a proof to you 
 of your own folly and weakness, would cause such a 
 pain and remorse in your mind^ and fill you with such 
 shame and confusion at yourself, as would in all pro- 
 bability make you exceedingly desirous of greater 
 perfection. 
 
 Now in the case of repeated sins, this would be the 
 certain benefit that we should receive from this exam- 
 ination and confession ; the mind would thereby be 
 made humble, full of sorrow and deep compunction, 
 and by degrees forced into amendment. 
 
 Whereas a formal, general confession, that is only 
 considered as an evening duty, that overlooks the par- 
 ticular mistakes of the day, and is the same whether 
 the day be spent ill or well, has little or no effect upon 
 the mind ; a man may use such a daily confession, and 
 yet go on sinning and confessing all his life, without 
 any remorse of mind, or true desire of amendment. 
 For if your own particular sins are left out of your 
 confession, your confessing of sin in general has no 
 more effect upon your mind, than if you had only 
 confessed that all men in general are sinners. And 
 there is nothing in any confession to shew that it is 
 yours, but so far as it is a self-accusation, not of sin in 
 general, or such as is common to all others, but of 
 such particular sins as are your own proper shame 
 and reproach. 
 
 No other confession, but such as thus discovers and 
 accuses your own particular guilt, can be an act of 
 true sorrow or real concern at your own condition. 
 And a confession that is without this sorrow and com- 
 punction of heart has nothing in it, either to atone for 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 331 
 
 past sins, or to produce in us any true reformation 
 and amendment of life. 
 
 To proceed : in order to make this examination still 
 further beneficial, every man should oblige himself to 
 a certain method in it. As every man has something 
 particular in his nature, stronger inclinations to some 
 vices than others, some infirmities that stick closer to 
 him, and are harder to be conquered than others ; and 
 as it is as easy for every man to know this of himself, 
 as to know whom he likes or dislikes ; so it is highly 
 necessary, that these particularities of our natures and 
 tempers should never escape a severe trial at our even- 
 ing repentance ; 1 say a severe trial, because nothing 
 but a rigorous severity against these natural tempers, 
 is sufficient to conquer them. 
 
 They are the right eyes that are not to be spared, 
 but to be plucked out and cast from us. For as they 
 are the infirmities of nature, so they have the strength 
 of nature, and must be treated with great opposition, 
 or they will soon be too strong for us. He, therefore, 
 who knows himself most of all subject to anger and 
 passion, must be very exact and constant in his exam- 
 ination of this temper every evening. He must find 
 out every slip that he has made of that kind, whether 
 in thought, or word, or action ; he must shame, and 
 reproach, and accuse himself before God, for every 
 thing that he has said or done in obedience to his pas- 
 sion. He must no more allow himself to forget the ex- 
 amination of this temper, than to forget his whole 
 prayers. 
 
 Again : If you find that vanity is your prevailing 
 temper, that is always putting you upon the adornment 
 of your person, and catching every thing that compli- 
 ments or flatters your abilities, never spare or forget 
 this temper in your evening examination ; but confess 
 to God every vanity of thought, or word, or action, 
 that you have been guilty of, and put yourself to all 
 the shame and confusion for it that you can. In this 
 manner should all people act with regret to their chief 
 
332 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 frailty, to which their nature most inclines them. 
 And though it should not immediately do all that they 
 would wish, yet by constant practice it would certainly 
 in a short time produce its desired effect. 
 
 Farther : As all states and employments of life have 
 their particular dangers and temptations, and expose 
 people more to some sins than others, so every man 
 that wishes his own improvement, should make it a 
 necessary part of his evening examination, to consider 
 how he has avoided, or fallen into such sins as are 
 most common to his state of life. For as our business 
 and condition of life has great power over us, so no- 
 thing but such watchfulness as this, can secure us 
 from those temptations to which it daily exposes us. 
 The poor man, from his condition of life, is always in 
 danger of repining and uneasiness; the rich man is 
 most exposed to sejisuality and indulgence ; the trades- 
 man to lying and unreasonable gains ; the scholar to 
 pride and vanity; so that in every state of life, a man 
 should always, in his examination of himself, have a 
 strict eye upon those faults, to which hi* state of life 
 most of all exposes him. 
 
 Again : As it is reasonable to suppose, that every 
 good man has entered into, or at least proposed to 
 himself^ some method of holy living, and set himself 
 some such rules to observe, as are not common to 
 other people, and only known to himself; so it should 
 be a constant part of his night recollection, to examine 
 how and in what degree he has observed them, and to 
 reproach himself before God for every neglect of 
 them. By rules, I here mean such rules as relate to 
 the well-ordering of our time, and the business of our 
 common life. Such rules as prescribe a certain order 
 to ail that we are to do, our business, devotion, morti- 
 fications, readings, retirements, conversation, meals, 
 refreshments, sleep, and the like. Now as good 
 rules relating to all these things are certain means of 
 great improvement, and such as all serious Christians 
 must needs propose to themselves, so they will hardly 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 333 
 
 ever be observed to any purpose, unless they are made 
 the constant subject of our evening examination. 
 
 Lastli/, You are not to content yourself with a hasty 
 general review of the day, but you must enter upon it 
 with deliberation ; begin with the first action of the 
 day, and proceed, step by step, through every particu- 
 lar matter that you have been concerned in, and so 
 let no time, place, or action be overlooked. An ex- 
 amination thus managed, will in a little time make 
 you as different from yourself as a wise man is differ- 
 ent from an ideot. It will give you such a newness of 
 mind, such a spirit of wisdom, and desire of perfection, 
 as you was an entire stranger to before. Thus 
 much concerning the evening examination, 
 
 I proceed now to lay before you such considerations 
 as may fill your mind with a just dread and horror of 
 all sin, and help you to confess your own in the most 
 passionate contrition and sorrow of heart. Consider 
 first, how odious all sin is to God, what a mighty baser 
 ness it is, and how abominable it renders sinners in 
 the sight of God. That it is sin alone that makes the 
 great difference betwixt an angel and the devil ; and 
 that every sinner is, so far as he sins, a friend of the 
 devil's, and carrying on his work against God. That 
 sin is a greater blemish and defilement of the soul than 
 any filth or disease is a defilement of the body. And 
 to be content to live in sin, is a much greater baseness, 
 than to desire to wallow in the mire, or love any bo- 
 dily impurity. 
 
 Consider how you must abhor a creature that de- 
 lighted in nothing but filth and nastiness, that hated 
 every thing that was decent and clean ; and let this 
 teach you to apprehend how odious that soul, that de- 
 lights in nothing but the impurity of sin, must appear 
 unto God. For all sins, whether of sensuality, pride, 
 or falseness, or any other irregular passion, are no- 
 thing else but the filth and impure disease of the ra- 
 tional soul. And all righteousness is nothing else but 
 the purity, the decency, the beauty and perfection of 
 that spirit^ which is made in the image of God, 
 
33^ A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Again ; Learn what horror you ought to have for 
 the guilt of sin, from the greatness of that atonement 
 which has been made for it. God made the world by 
 the breath of his mouth, by a word speaking ; but the 
 redemption of the world has been a work of longer 
 labour. How easily God can create beings, we learn 
 from the first chapter of Genesis ; but how difficult it 
 is for infinite mercy to forgive sins, we learn from that 
 costly atonement, those bloody sacrifices, those pains 
 and penances, those sicknesses and deaths, which all 
 must be undergone, before the guilty sinner is fit to 
 appear in the presence of God. 
 
 Ponder these great truths : That the Son of God 
 was forced to become man, to be partaker of all our 
 infirmities ; to undergo a poor, painful, miserable, and 
 contemptible life ; to be persecuted, hated, and at last 
 nailed to a cross, that by such suff*erings he might ren- 
 der God propitious to that nature in which he suffer- 
 ed. — That all the bloody sacrifices and atonements of 
 the Jewish law, were to represent the necessity of this 
 great sacrifice, and the great displeasure God bore to 
 sinners. That the world is still under the curse of 
 sin and certain marks of God's displeasure at it ; such 
 as famines, plagues, tempests, sickness, diseases, and 
 death. 
 
 Consider that all the sons of Adam are to go through 
 a painful, sickly life, denying and mortifying their na- 
 tural appetites, and crucifying the lust of the flesh, in 
 order to have a share in the atonement of our Savi- 
 our's death. That all their penances and self-denials, 
 all their tears and repentance, are only made available 
 by redemption ; all these sacrifices and sufferings both 
 of God and man, are only to remove the guilt of sin ; 
 and then let this teach you with what tears and con- 
 trition you ought to purge yourself from it. After 
 this general consideration of the guilt of sin, which 
 has done so much mischief to your nature, and expos- 
 ed it to so great punishment, and made it so odious 
 to God, that nothing less than so great an atonement 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 335 
 
 of the Son of God, and so great repentance of our 
 own, can restore us to the divine favour : 
 
 Consider next your own particular share in the 
 guilt of sin. And if you would know with what zeal 
 you ought to repent yourself, consider how you would 
 exhort another sinner to repentance; and w4iat re- 
 pentance and amendment you would expect from him, 
 whom you judged to be the greatest sinner in the 
 world. — Now this case every man may justly reckon 
 to be his own. And you may fairly look upon your- 
 self to be the greatest sinner that you know in the 
 world. 
 
 For though you may know abundance of people to 
 be guilty of some gross sins, with which you cannot 
 charge yourself, yet you may justly condemn yourself 
 as the greatest sinner that you know. And that for 
 these following reasons : 
 
 First, because you know more of the folly of your 
 own heart, than you do of other people's ; and can 
 charge yourself with various sins, that you only know 
 of yourself, and cannot be sure tliat other sinners are 
 guilty of them. So that as you know more of the fol- 
 ly, the baseness, the pride, the deceitfulness, and neg- 
 ligence of your own heart, than you do of any one's 
 else, so you have just reason to consider yourself as 
 the greatest sinner that you know : Because you 
 know more of the greatness of your own sins, than 
 you do of other people's. 
 
 Secondly, The greatness of our guilt arises chiefly 
 from the greatness of God's goodness towards us, 
 from the particular graces and blessings, the favours, 
 the lights and instructions that w^e have received from 
 him. 
 
 Now as these graces and blessings, and the multi- 
 tude of God's favour towards us, are the great aggra- 
 vations of our sins against God, so they are only 
 known to ourselves. And therefore every sinner 
 knows more of the aggravation of his own guilt, than 
 he does of other people's ; and consequently may 
 
S36 4 SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 justly look upon himself to be the greatest sinner that 
 he knows. 
 
 How good God hath been to other sinners, what 
 light and instruction he has vouchsafed to them ; 
 what blessings and graces they have received from 
 him ; how often he has touched their hearts with holy 
 inspirations, you cannot tell. Kut all this you know 
 of yourself; therefore you know greater aggrava- 
 tions of your own guilt, and are able to charge your- 
 self with greater ingratitude than you can charge 
 upon other people. 
 
 And this is the reason why the greatest saints have 
 in all ages condemned themselves as the greatest sin- 
 ners, because they knew some aggravations of their 
 own sins, which they could not know of other peo- 
 ple's. The right way therefore to fill your heart with 
 true contrition, and a deep sense of your own sins, is 
 this : You are not to consider, or compare the out- 
 ward form or course of your life with that of other peo- 
 ple's, and then think yourself to be less sinful than they, 
 because the outward course of your life is less sinful 
 than theirs. But in order to know your own guilt, 
 you must consider your own particular circumstances, 
 your health, your sickness, your youth or age, your 
 particular calling, the happiness of your education, 
 the degrees of light and instruction that you have re- 
 ceived, the good men that you have conversed with, 
 the admonitions that you have had, the good books 
 that you have read, the numberless multitude of divine 
 blessings, graces, and favours, that you have received, 
 the good motions of grace that you have resisted, the 
 resolutions of amendment that you have so often bro- 
 ken, and the checks of conscience that you have dis- 
 regarded. For it is from these circumstances that 
 every one is to state the measure and greatness of 
 his own guilt. And as you know only these circum- 
 stances of your own sins, so you must necessarilv know 
 how to charge yourself with higher degrees of guilt, 
 than you can charge upon other people. God Al' 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 337 
 
 mighty knows greater sinners it may be than you are ; 
 because he sees and knows the circumstances of all 
 men's sins : But your own heart, if it is faithful to you, 
 can discover no guilt so great as yonr own ; because 
 it can only see in you those circumstances, on which 
 great part of the guilt of sin is founded. You may 
 see sins in other people, that you cannot charge upon 
 yourself; but then you know a number of circum- 
 stances of your own guilt that you cannot lay to their 
 charge. And, perhaps, that person that appears at 
 such a distance from your virtue, and so odious in your 
 eyes, would have been much better than you are, had 
 he been altogether in your circumstances, and received 
 all the same favours and graces from God that you 
 have. 
 
 This is a very humbling reflection, and very pro- 
 per for those people to make, who measure their vir- 
 tue by comparing the outward course of their lives 
 with that of other people's : for look at whom you 
 will, however ditferent from you in his way of life, yet 
 you can never know that he has resisted so much 
 divine grace as you have ; or that, in all your circum- 
 stances, he would not have been much truer to his- 
 duty than you are. Now this is the reason why I de- 
 sired you to consider how you would exhort that man 
 to confess and bewail his sins, whom you looked upo« 
 to be one of the greatest sinners ; because, if you 
 will deal justly, you must fix the charge at home, and 
 look no farther than yourself. For God has given no 
 one any power of knowing the true greatness of any 
 sins, but his own ; and, therefore, the greatest sinner 
 that every one knows is himself. You may easily see 
 how such a one, in the outward course of his life, 
 breaks the law of God ; but then you can never say, 
 that had you been exactly in all his circumstances, 
 that you should not have broken them more than he 
 has done. A serious and frequent reflection upon 
 these things will mightily tend to humble us in our 
 own eyeSj make us very apprehensive of the greatness 
 
 2k 
 
SSH A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 of our own guilt, and very tender in censuring and 
 condemning- other people ; for who would dare to be 
 severe against other people, when, for aught he can 
 tell, the severity of God may be more due to him than 
 to them? WIio would exclaim against the guilt of 
 others, when he considers that he knows more of the 
 greatness of his own guilt than he does of their's ? 
 How often you have resisted God's holy Spirit ; how 
 many motives to goodness you have disregarded ; how 
 many particular blessings you have sinned against; 
 how many good resolutions you have broken ; how 
 many checks and admonitions of conscience you have 
 stifled, you very well know : but how often this has 
 been the case of other sinners, you know not ; and, 
 therefore, the greatest sinner that you know must be 
 yourself. 
 
 Whenever^ therefore, you are angry at sin or sin- 
 ners ; whenever you read or think of God's indigna- 
 tion and wrath at wicked men, let this teach you to be 
 the most severe in your censure, and most humble and 
 contrite in the acknowledgement and confession of 
 your own sins, because you know of no sinner equal 
 to yourself. 
 
 Lastly, to conclude this chapter : Having thus ex- 
 amined and confessed your sins at this hour of the 
 evening, you must iiftcrwards look upon yourself as 
 still obliged to betake yourself to prayer again just 
 before you go to bed. The subject that is most pro- 
 per for your prayers, at that time, is death. Let 
 your prayers, therefore, then be wholly upon it, reck- 
 oning up all the dangers, uncertainties, and terrors of 
 death ; let them contain every thing that can aflect 
 and awaken your mind into just apprehensions of it. 
 Let your petitions be all for right sentiments of the 
 approach aiRJ importance of death ; and beg of God, 
 that your mind may be possessed with such a sense of 
 its nearness, that you may have it always in your 
 thoughts, do every thing as in the sight of it, and- 
 make every day a day of preparation for it. Repre- 
 
OfiVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 339 
 
 sent to your imagination, that your bed is your gravel- 
 that all things are ready for your interment; that you 
 are to have no more to do with this world ; and that 
 it will be owing to God's great mercy if you ever see 
 the light of the sun again, or have another day to add 
 to your works of piety. And then commit yourself to 
 sleep, as into the hands of God ; as one that is to have 
 no more opportunities of doing good ; but is to awake 
 amongst spirits that are separate from the body, and 
 waiting for the judgment of the last great day. 
 
 Such a solemn resignation of yourself into the 
 hands of God every evening, and parting with all the 
 world, as if you was never to see it any more, and all 
 this in the silence and darkness of the night, is a prac- 
 tice that will soon have excellent effects upon your 
 spirit. For this time of the night is exceeding pro- 
 per for such prayers and meditations ; and the like- 
 ness which sleep and darkness have to death will con- 
 tribute very much to make your thoughts about it 
 the more deep. and affecting. So that J hope you 
 will not let a time, so proper for such prayers, be ever 
 passed over without them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The Conclusion. Of the Excellenci/ and Greatness 
 of a devout Spirit. 
 
 1 HAVE now finished what I intended in this Trea- 
 tise : 1 have explained the nature of devotion, both as 
 it signifies a life devoted to God, and as it signifies a 
 regular method of daily prayer. 1 have now only to 
 add a word or two in recommendation of a life go- 
 verned by this spirit of devotion. For though it is as 
 reasonable to suppose it the desire of all Christians to 
 arrive at Christian perfection, as to suppose that all 
 sick men desire to be restored to perfect health ; yet 
 
 z2 
 
340 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 experience shews us, that nothing wants more to be 
 pressed, repeated, and forced upon minds, than the 
 plainest rules of Christianity. Voluntary poverty, 
 virginity, and devout retirement, have been here re- 
 commended as things not necessary, yet highly bene- 
 ficial to tiiose tliat would make the way to perfection 
 the most easy and certain. But Christian perfection 
 itself is tied to no particular form of life ; but is to be 
 attained, though not with the same ease, in every state 
 of life. This has been fully asserted in another place ; 
 where it has been shewn that Christian perfection 
 calls no one (necessarily) to a cloister, but to the full 
 performance of those duties, which are necessary for 
 all Christians, and common to all states of life. Christ. 
 Perfect, p. 2. So that the whole of the matter is 
 plainly this: Virginity, voluntary poverty, and such 
 other restraints of lawful things, are not necessary to 
 Christian perfection ; but are much to be commend- 
 ed in those, who choose them as helps and means of a 
 more safe and speedy arrival at it. It is only in this 
 manner, and in this sense, that I Avould recommend 
 any particularity of life; not as if perfection con- 
 sisted in it, but because of its great tendency to 
 produce and support the true spirit of Christian per- 
 fection. But the thing- wisich is here pressed upon 
 all, is, a life of great and strict devotion ; which, I 
 think, has been sufficiently siiewn to be equally the 
 duty and happiness of all orders of men. Neither is 
 there a-iy thing, in any particular state of life, that 
 can be justly pleaded as a reason for any abatement 
 of a devout spirit. 
 
 But because, in this polite age of ours, we have so 
 lived away the spirit of devotion, that many seem 
 afraid even to be suspected of it, imagining great de- 
 votion to be great bigotry ; that it is founded in igno- 
 rance and poorness of spirit, and that little, weak, and 
 dejected minds are generally the greatest proficients 
 in it ; it shall here be fully shew n, that great devotion 
 is the noblest temper of the greatest and noblest 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 341 
 
 souls ; and that they who think it receives any advan- 
 tage from ignorance and poorness of spirit, are them- 
 selves not a little, but entirely ignorant of the nature 
 of devotion, the nature of God, and the nature of 
 themselves. 
 
 People of fine parts and learning, or of g-reatknow - 
 ledge in worldly matters, may perhaps think it hard to 
 have their want of devotion charged upon their igno- 
 rance. But if they will be content to be tried by rea- 
 son and scripture, it may soon be made to appear, 
 that a want of devotion, wherever it is, either amongst 
 the learned or unlearned, is founded in gross igno- 
 rance, and the greatest blindness and insensibility 
 that can happen to a rational creature ; and that de- 
 votion is so far from being the effect of a little and de- 
 jected mind, that it must and will be always highest 
 in the most perfect natures. And first. Who reckons 
 it a sign of a poor, little mind, for a man to be full of 
 reverence and duty to his parents, to have the truest 
 love and honour for his friend, or to excel in the high- 
 est instances of gratitude to his benefactor? Are not 
 these tempers, in the highest degree, in the most ex- 
 alted and perfect minds '{ And yet what is high de- 
 votion, but the highest exercise of these tempers, of 
 duty, reverence, love, honour, and gratitude to the 
 amiable, glorious parent, friend, and benefactor of all 
 mankind? Is it a true greatness of mind to reverence 
 the authority of your parents, to fear the displeasure 
 of your friend, to dread the reproaches of your bene- 
 factor? and must not this fear, and dread, and rever- 
 ence, be much more just, and reasonable, and honour- 
 able, when they are in the highest degree towards 
 God ? Now, as the higher these tempers are, the 
 more are they esteemed amongst men, and are allow- 
 ed to be so much the greater proofs of a true great- 
 ness of mind ; so the higher and greater these tempers 
 are towards God, so much tiic more do they prove the. 
 nobility, excellence, and greatness of the mind. So 
 that, so long as duty to parents, love to friends, 
 
 z3 
 
342 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 and gratitude to benefactors, are thought great and 
 honourable tempers — devotion, which is nothing else 
 but duty, love, and gratitude to God, must have the 
 highest place amongst our highest virtues. 
 
 If a prince, out of his mere goodness, should send 
 you a pardon by one of his slaves, would you not think 
 it a part of your duty to receive the slave with marks 
 of love, esteem, and gratitude, for his great kindness 
 in bringing you so great a gift ; and, at the same time, 
 think it a meanness and poorness of spirit, to shew 
 love, esteem, and gratitude to the prince, who of his 
 own goodness freely sent you the pardon? And yet 
 this would be as reasonable as to suppose that love, 
 esteem, honour, and gratitude, are noble tempers, and 
 instances of a great soul, when they are paid to our 
 fellow-creatures; but the effects of a poor, ignorant, 
 dejected mind, when they are paid to God. 
 
 Farther : That part of devotion which expresses it- 
 self in sorrowful confession, and penitential tears of a 
 broken and contrite heart, is very far from being any 
 sign of a little and ignorant mind. For who does not 
 acknowledge it an instance of an ingenuous, gener- 
 ous, and brave mind, to acknowledge a fault, and ask 
 pardon for any offence? And are not the finest and 
 most improved minds, the most remarkable for this 
 excellent temper? Is it not also allowed, that the in- 
 genuity and excellence of a man's spirit is much shewn, 
 when his sorrow and indignation at himself rises in 
 proportion to the folly of his crime, and the goodness 
 and greatness of the person he has offended ? Now if 
 things are thus, then the greater any man's mind is, 
 the more he knows of God and himself, the more will 
 he be disposed to prostrate himself before God, in all 
 the humblest acts and expressions of repentance. 
 And the greater the ingenuity, the generosity, judg- 
 ment, and penetration of his mind is, the more will he 
 exercise and indulge a passionate, tender sense of 
 God's just displeasure ; and the more he knows of the 
 greatness, the goodness, and perfection of the divine 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 343 
 
 nature, the fuller of shame and confusion will he be 
 at his own sins and ing-ratitude. And, on the other 
 hand, the more dull and ignorant any soul is/the more 
 base and ungenerous it naturally is, the more senseless 
 it is of tlie goodness and purity of God ; so much the 
 more averse will it be to all acts of humble confession 
 and repentance. 
 
 Devotion therefore is so far from being best suited 
 to little ignorant minds, that a true elevation of soul, a 
 lively sense of honour, and great knowledge of God 
 and ourselves, are the greatest natural helps that oup 
 devotion hath. 
 
 And, on the other hand, it shall here be made ap- 
 pear by variety of arguments, that indevotion is found- 
 ed in the most excessive ignorance. 
 
 And, First, Our blessed Lord, and his apostles, 
 were eminent instances of great and frequent devotion. 
 Now if you will grant (as all Christians must grant) 
 that their great devotion was founded in a true know- 
 ledge of the nature of devotion, the nature of God, 
 and the nature of man ; then it is plain, that all those 
 that are insensible of the duty of devotion, are in this 
 excessive state of ignorance ; they neither know God, 
 northemselves, nor devotion. For if a right know- 
 ledge in these three respects produces great devotion, 
 as in the case of our Saviour and his apostles, then a. 
 neglect of devotion must be chargeable upon igno- 
 rance. 
 
 Again : How comes it that most people have re- 
 course to devotion, when they are in sickness, distress, 
 or fear of death ? Is it not because this state shews 
 them more of the want of God, and their own weak- 
 ness, than they perceive at other times? Is it not be- 
 cause their infirmities, their approaching end, con- 
 vince them of something, which they did not half per- 
 ceive before? Now if devotion at these seasons is the 
 etVect of a better knowledge of God and ourselves, 
 then the neglect of devotion, at other times, is always 
 owing to great ignorance of God and ourselves. 
 
 z4 
 
344 
 
 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 Farther : As indevotion is ignorance, so it is the 
 most shameful ignorance, and such ought to be charg- 
 ed with the greatest folly. This will fully appear to 
 any one that considers by what rules we are to judge 
 of the excellency of any knowledge, or the shameful- 
 ness of any ignorance. Now knowledge itself would 
 be no excellence, nor ignorance any reproach to us, 
 but that we are rational creatures. But if this be 
 true, then it follows plainly, that that knowledge which 
 is most suitable to our rational nature, and which most 
 concerns us, as such to know, is our highest, finest 
 knowledge ; and that ignorance which relates to 
 things that are most essential to us, as rational crea- 
 tures, and which we are most concerned to know, is of 
 all others, the most gross and shameful ignorance. 
 If therefore there be any things that concern us more 
 than others, if there be any truths that are more to us 
 than all others, he that has the fullest knowledge of 
 these things, that sees these tiuths in the clearest, 
 strongest light, has, of all others, as a rational crea- 
 ture, the clearest understanding, and the strongest 
 parts. If therefore our relation to God be our great- 
 est relation, if our advancement in his favour be our 
 highest advancement, he that has the highest notions 
 of the excellence of this relation, he that most strong- 
 ly perceives the highest worth, and the great value of 
 holiness and virtue, that judges every thing little, 
 when compared with it, proves himself to be master 
 of the "best, and most excellent knowledge. If ajudge 
 had fine skill in painting, architecture, and music, but 
 at the same time had gross and confused notions of 
 equity, and a poor dull apprehension of the value of 
 justice, who would scruple to reckon him a poor igno- 
 rant judge? If a bishop should be a man of great ad- 
 dress and skill in the arts of preferment, and under- 
 standing how to mise and enrich his family in the 
 world, but should have no taste or sense of the maxims 
 and principles of the saints and fathers of the church; 
 if he did not conceive the holy nature and great obli- 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 345 
 
 gallons of his calling", and judge it better to be cruci- 
 fied to the world, than to live idly in pomp and 
 splendour, who would scruple to charge such a bishop 
 with want of understanding ? If we do not judge and 
 pronounce after this manner, our reason and judgment 
 are but empty sounds. But now, if a judge is to be 
 reckoned ignorant, if he does not feel or perceive the 
 value and worth of justice ; if a bishop is to be looked 
 npon as void of understanding, if he is more experien- 
 ced in other things, than in the exalted virtues of his 
 apostolical calling; then all common Christians are to 
 be looked upon as more or less knowing, accordingly 
 as they know more or less of those great things, 
 which are the common and greatest concern of all 
 Christians. If a gentleman should fancy that the 
 moon is no bigger than it appears to the eye, that it 
 shines with its own light, that all the stars are only so 
 many spots of light ; if, after reading books of astro- 
 nomy, he should still continue in the same opinion, 
 most people would think he had but a poor apprehen- 
 sion. But if the same person should think it better to 
 provide for a short life here, than to prepare for a 
 glorious eternity hereafter, that it was better to be 
 rich than to be eminent in piety, his ignorance and 
 dulness would be too great to be compared to any 
 thing else. 
 
 There is no knowledge that deserves so much as 
 the name of it, but that which we call judgment. And 
 that is the most clear and improved understanding, 
 which judges best of the value and worth of things; 
 all the rest is but the capacity of an animal, is but 
 mere seeing and hearing. 
 
 And there is no excellence of any knowledge in us, 
 till we exercise our judgment, and judge well of the 
 value and worth of things. If a man had eyes that 
 could see beyond the stars, or pierce into the heart of 
 the earth, but could not see the things that were before 
 him, or discern any thing that was serviceable to him, 
 we should reckon that he had but a very bad sight. If 
 
346 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 another had ears that received sounds from the world 
 in the moon, but could hear nothing- that was done 
 upon earth, we should look upon him to be as bad as 
 deaf. In like manner, if a man has a memory that 
 can retain a great many things ; if he has a wit that 
 is sharp and acute in arts and sciences, or an imagin- 
 ation thjit can wander agreeably in fictions, but has 
 a dull poor apprehension of his duty and relation to 
 God, of the value of piety, or the worth of moral vir- 
 tue, he may very justly be reckoned to have a bad un- 
 derstanding. He is but like the man that can only 
 see and hear such things as are of no benefit to him. 
 As certain, therefore, as piety, virtue, and eternal hap- 
 piness are of the most concern to man ; as certain as 
 the immortality of our nature, and relation to God, 
 are the most glorious circumstances of our nature, so 
 certain is it, that he who dwells most in contemplation 
 of them, whose heart is most affected with them, who 
 sees farthest into them, who best comprehends the 
 value and excellency of them, who judges all worldly 
 attainments to be mere bubbles and shadows in com- 
 parison of them, proves himself to have of all others 
 the finest understanding, and the strongest judgment. 
 And if we do not reason after this manner, or allow 
 this method of reasoning, we have no arguments to 
 prove, that there is any such thing as a wise man, or 
 a fool. For a man is proved to be a natural, not be- 
 cause he wants any of his senses, or is incapable of 
 every thing, but because he has no judgment, and is 
 entirely ignorant of the worth and value of things — he 
 will perhaps chuse a fine coat rather than a large es- 
 tate. And as the essence of stupidity consists in the 
 entire want of judgment, in an ignorance of the value 
 of things ; so, on the other hand, the essence of wis- 
 dom and knowledge must consist in the excellency of 
 our judgment, or in the knowledge of the worth and 
 value of things. This therefore is an undeniable 
 proof, that he who knows most of the value of the 
 best things, who judges most rightly of the things 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 347 
 
 which are of most concern to him, who had rather 
 have his soul in a state of Christian perfection, than 
 the greatest share of worldly happiness, has the high- 
 est wisdom, and is at the farthest distance from men 
 that are naturals, that any knowledge can place him. 
 On the other hand, he that can talk the learned lan- 
 guages, and repeat a great deal of history, but prefers 
 the indulgence of his body to the purity and perfection 
 of his soul, who is more concerned to get a name, or 
 an estate here, than to live in eternal glory hereafter, 
 is in the nearest state to that natural, who chuses a 
 painted coat rather than a large estate. He is not 
 called a natural by men, but he must appear to God, 
 and heavenly beings, as in a more excessive state of 
 stupidity, and will sooner or later certainly appear so 
 to himself 
 
 But now if this be undeniably plain, that we cannot 
 prove a man to be a fool, but by shewing that he has 
 no knowledge of things that are good and evil to him- 
 self, then it is undeniably plain, that we cannot prove 
 a man to be wise, but by shewing that he has the full- 
 est knowledge of things that are his greatest good, 
 and his greatest evil. If, therefore, God be our great- 
 est good ; if there can be no good but in his favour, 
 nor any evil but in departing from him, then it is plain, 
 that he who judges it the best thing he can do to please 
 God to the utmost of his power, who worships and 
 adores him with all his heart and soul, who had rather 
 have a pious mind than all the dignities and honours 
 in the world, shews himself to be in the highest state 
 of human wisdom. 
 
 To proceed : We know how our blessed Lord acted 
 in a human body ; it was his meat and drink to do 
 the will of his Father which is in heaven. And if any 
 number of heavenly spirits were to leave their habita- 
 tions in the light of God, and be for a while united to 
 human bodies, they would certainly tend towards God 
 in all their actions, and be as heavenly as they could 
 in a state of flesh and blood. 
 
34S A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 They would certainly act in this manner, because 
 they would know that God was the only good of all 
 spirits ; and that whether they were in the body or out 
 of the body, in heaven or on earth, they must have 
 every degree of their greatness and happiness from 
 God alone. All human spirits, therefore, the more ex- 
 alted they are, the nearer they come to heavenly spi- 
 rits, by so much the more will they live to God in all 
 their actions, and make their whole life a state of devo- 
 tion. Devotion, therefore, is the greatest sign of a 
 great and noble genius, it supposes a soul in its high- 
 est state of knowledge ; and none but little and blinded 
 minds, that are sunk into ignorance and vanity, are 
 destitute of it. 
 
 If a human spirit should imagine some mighty 
 prince to be greater than God, we should take it for a 
 poor ignorant creature ; all people would acknowledge 
 such an imagination to be the height of stupidity. 
 But if this same human spirit should think it better to 
 be devoted to some mighty prince than to be devoted 
 to God, would not this still be a greater proof of a 
 poor, ignorant, and blinded nature / Yet this is what 
 all people do, who think any thing better, greater, or 
 wiser than a devout life. So that which way soever we 
 consider this matter, it plainly appears, that devotion 
 is an instance of great judgment, of an elevated na- 
 ture; and the want of devotion is a certain proof of 
 the want of understanding. The greatest spirits of 
 the heathen world, such as Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, 
 Epictetus, Marcus Antoninus, &c. owed all their 
 greatness to the spirit of devotion. They were full 
 of God ; their wisdom and deep contemplations tended 
 only to deliver men from the vanity of the world, the 
 slavery of bodily passions, that they might act as spi- 
 rits that came from God, and were soon to return to 
 him. 
 
 Again : To see the dignity and greatness of a devout 
 spirit, we need only compare it with other tempers 
 that are chosen in the room of it. St. John tells us^ 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 349 
 
 that all in the world (that is, all the tempers of a 
 worldly life) is the lust of the flesh, the lust of the 
 eyes, and the pride of life. Let us therefore consider, 
 what wisdom or excellency of mind there is required 
 to qualify a man for these delights. Let us suppose 
 a man given up to the pleasures of the body ; surely 
 this can be no sig'n of a fine mind, or an excellent spi- 
 rit : For if he has but the temper of an animal, he is 
 great enough for these enjoyments. Let us suppose 
 him to be devoted to honours and splendours, to be 
 fond of glitter and equipage ; now if this temper re- 
 quired any great parts or fine understanding to make 
 a man capable of it, it would prove the world to abound 
 with great wits. Let us suppose him to be in love 
 with riches, and to be so eager in the pursuit of them, 
 as never to think he has enough ; now this passion is 
 so far from supposing any excellent sense, or great 
 understanding, that blindness and folly are the best 
 supports that it hath. Let us lastly suppose him in 
 another light, not singly devoted to any of these pas- 
 sions, but, as it mostly happens, governed by all of 
 them in their turns — does this shew a more exalted 
 nature, than to spend his days in the service of any 
 one of tliem? For to have a taste for these things, 
 and to be devoted to them, is so far from arguing any 
 tolerable parts or understanding, that they arc suited 
 to the dullest, weakest minds, and require only a great 
 deal of pride and folly to be greatly admired. But 
 now let libertines bring any such charge as this, if they 
 can, against devotion. They may as well endeavour 
 to charge light with every thing that belongs to dark- 
 ness. Let them but grant that there is a God, and 
 Providence, and then they have granted enough to 
 justify the wisdom, and support the honour of devotion. 
 For if there is an infinitely wise and good creature, in 
 whom we live, move, and have our being, whose pro- 
 vidence governs all things in all places, surely it must 
 be the highest act of our understanding to conceive 
 rightly of him ; it must be the noblest instances of 
 
350 A SERIOUS CALL TO A 
 
 judgment, the most exalted temper of our nature, to' 
 worship and adore this universal providence, to con- 
 form to its laws, to study its wisdom, and to live and 
 act every where, as in the presence of this infinitely 
 good and wise Creator. Nou^ he that lives thus lives 
 in the spirit of devotion. And what can shew such 
 great parts, and so fine an understanding, as to live in 
 this temper. For if God is wisdom, surely he must 
 be the wisest man in the world, who most conforms to 
 the wisdom of God, who best obeys bis providence, 
 who enters farthest into his designs, and does all he 
 can, that God's will may be done on earth, as it is 
 done in heaven. A devout man makes a true use of 
 his reason ; he sees through the vanity of the world, 
 discovers the corruption of his nature, and the blind- 
 ness of his passions. He lives by a law which is not 
 visible to vulgar eyes ; he enters into the world of spi- 
 rits ; he compares the greatest things, sets eternity 
 against time; and chuses rather to be for ever great 
 in the presence of God, when he dies, than to have the 
 greatest share of worldly pleasures whilst he lives. 
 He that is devout is full of these great thoughts ; he 
 lives upon lliese noble reflections, and conducts him- 
 self by rules and principles, which can only be appre- 
 hended, admired, and loved by reason. There is no- 
 thing therefore that shews so great a genius, nothing 
 that so raises us above vulgar spirits, nothing that so 
 plainly declares an heroic greatness of mind, as great 
 devotion. When you suppose a man to be a saint, or 
 all devotion, you have raised him as much above all 
 other conditions of life, as a philosopher is above an 
 animal. 
 
 Lastly, Courage and bravery are words of a great 
 sound, and seem to signify an heroic spirit ; but yet 
 humility, which seems to be ihe lowest, meanest part 
 of devotion, is a more certain argument of a noble and 
 courageous mind. For humility contends with greater 
 enemies, is more constantly engaged, more violently 
 assaulted, bears more, suffers more, and requires 
 
DEVOUT AND HOLY LIFE. 351 
 
 greater courage to support itself, than any instances of 
 worldly bravery. A man that dares be poor and con- 
 temptible in the eyes of the world, to approve himself 
 to God ; that resists and rejects all human glory, that 
 opposes the clamour of his passions, that meekly puts 
 up all injuries and wrongs, and dares stay for his re- 
 ward till the invisible hand of God gives to every one 
 their proper places, endures a much greater trial, and 
 exerts a nobler fortitude, than he that is bold and dar- 
 ing in the fire of battle. For the boldness of a soldier, 
 if he is a stranger to the spirit of devotion, is rather 
 weakness than fortitude ; it is at best but mad passion, 
 and heated spirits, and has no more true valour in it 
 than the fury of a tiger. For as we cannot lift up a 
 hand^ or stir a foot, but by a power that is lent us from 
 God; so bold actions that are not directed by the 
 laws of God, or so many executions of his will, are no 
 more true bravery, than sedate malice is Christian 
 patience. 
 
 Reason is our universal law, that obliges us in all 
 places and at all times ; and no actions have any ho- 
 nour, but so far as they are instances of our obedience 
 to reason. And it is as base and cowardly, to be bold 
 and daring against the principle of reason and justice, 
 as to be bold and daring in lying and perjury. 
 
 Would we therefore exercise a true fortitude, we 
 must do all in the spirit of devotion, be valiant against 
 the corruptions of the world, and the lusts of the flesh, 
 and the temptations of the devil ; for to be daring and 
 courageous against these enemies, is the noblest bra- 
 very that a human mind is capable of. 
 
 1 have made this digression, for the sake of those, 
 who think a great devotion to be bigotry and poorness 
 of spirit ; that by these considerations they may see, 
 how poor and mean all other tempers are, if compared 
 to it. That they may see, that all worldly attainments, 
 whether of greatness, wisdom, or bravery, are but 
 empty sounds ; and there is nothing wise, or great, or 
 
S52 A SERIOUS CALLj &C. 
 
 noble, in a human spirit, but rightly to know, and 
 heartily worship and adore the great God, that is the 
 support and life of all spirits, whether in heaven or on 
 «arth. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 J. and J. Jackson, Printers, Marketplace, Loutb. 
 

Date Due 
 
BV4500 .L407 1816 
 
 A serious call to a devout and holy 
 
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