,* 
 
 M. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 PPxINCETOK, N. J. 
 
 BR 75 S3 1839 c. 1 
 Scougal, Henry, 1650-1678. 
 The works of the Rev. H. 
 Scougal . . . 
 
THE WORKS 
 
 REV. HENRY SCOUGALj 
 
 CONSISTING Of 
 
 The Life of God in the Soul 
 of Man. 
 
 The superior excellency of 
 the Religious. 
 
 The indispensable duty of 
 Loving our Enemies. 
 
 The necessity and advantage 
 of Early Afflictions. 
 
 That there are but a Small 
 Number Saved. 
 
 The duty and pleasure of 
 Praise and Thanksgiving. 
 
 On the Nativity of our Sa- 
 viour. 
 
 On the Passion of our Sa* 
 viour. 
 
 A Preparation for the Holy 
 Sacrament. 
 
 The importance and difficul- 
 ty of the Ministerial Function 
 
 tOGETHER WITH 
 
 HIS FUNEUAL SERMON BY THE REV. DR. GAIRDEN ; AND AM 
 ACCOUNT OF HIS LIFE, AND WRITINGS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 R. CARTER, 58 CANAL STREET. 
 
 1839. 
 
NOTICE FOR THE AMERICAN ED 1 ON 
 
 Among those who have been ripened eprly fbf 
 ■usefulness, and after being eminently useful, have- 
 been early removed to the ' rest that remaineth for 
 the people of God,' few have been more celebrat- 
 ed for a lovely, unobtrusive piety than Scougal. 
 Bishop Burjiei, with a name high in public esteem, 
 and engagements numerous and important in pub- 
 lic life, did not deem it unworthy of his station and 
 character to become a warm eulogist of the young 
 author, and of that work of his, Avhich was pub- 
 lished in his lifetime. This, his main work, and 
 which has gained him most reputation, ' The life 
 of God in the soul of man,' has been the delight of 
 the pious for a century and a half. It cannot be 
 necessary to repeat the praises bestowed on it — for 
 its simplicity, fervor, method of arrangement, and 
 exhibition of the genuine amiableness of religion. 
 That its publication is seasonable at the present 
 time, in order to direct the attention of its readers 
 from subjects of doubtful disputation to the diligent 
 keeping of the heaH, no self-observer can question. 
 It has, indeed, been reprinted often — but, so far as 
 the writer of this brief notice is informed, never 
 accompanied in America with the Sermons of the 
 author. These, and the discourse delivered on his 
 death, with a preface by a former editor, can hardly 
 fail to render the present edition acceotable to the 
 friends of true piety in America. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 
 Mr. Henry Scougal, tlie worthy autlior of the follow- 
 ing book, was born about the end of June, in tlie year 1650. 
 
 His father, Mr. Patrick Scougal, was sometime minister 
 at Salton, and afterwards Bishop of Aberdeen; in wliich See 
 he sat above twenty years from the Restoration. He was 
 married to Margaret Wemyss, daughter to a gentleman ia 
 Fife, by whom he had three sons and two daughters. John 
 Scougal, the eldest son, became Commissai-y of Aberdeen. 
 Our author was the second. The youngest son, James, up- 
 on his eldest brother's death, succeeded him in the commis- 
 sariat; which post he sold to Mr. Robert Paterson, father to 
 the late Commissary of Aberdeen. He then went to Edin- 
 burgli; where he was made one of the senators of the College 
 of Justice, by the title of Lord Whiteliill. Catharine Scou- 
 gal, tlie elder daughter, married Alexander Scrogie, Bishop 
 of Argj^-le; and Jane, the younger, became spouse to Mr. 
 Patrick Sibbald, one of the ministers of Aberdeen. 
 
 But to return to om* author. From his childhood, he 
 made uncommon progi-ess in divine, as well as human learn- 
 ing. At the age of fifteen, he went to the University; 
 where he finished his courses in four years' time: and scarce 
 had he ceased to be a pupil, when he became a Professor. 
 Having adorned this character four years, the more imme- 
 diate service of God in his church, required him to enter in- 
 to holy orders; and he was soon after settled at Auchterless, 
 a small village about twenty miles from Aberdeen. Here 
 he had preactied the gospel but the space of one year, when 
 he was called to Aberdeen, and promoted to the Professor- 
 ship of Divinity, in King's College there, though yet no 
 more than four and twenty. This important function he 
 discharged with the highest honour, till about his twenty- 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 sevenrth year, tliat he fell into a consumption, which wasted 
 him, by slow degrees, and, at last, put an end to his valua- 
 ble life, on the 13th of June, 1678, before he had completed 
 the twenty -eighth year of his age. He was buried in King's 
 College church. Old Aberdeen, and the following inscription 
 was put upon hb tombstone:— 
 
 MEMORI^ SACRUM 
 
 HENRICUS SCOUGAL; 
 
 JIETERENDI IN CHRISTO PATRIS PATRICII EPISCOPI 
 
 ABERDONENSIS FILIUS: 
 
 PHILOSOPHIJE IN HAC ACADEMIA REGIA, 
 
 PER QUADRIENNIUM, TOTIDEMC^UE ANNI8 
 
 IBIDEM THEOLOGIiE PROFESSOR: 
 
 ¥CCLESIiE IN AUCHTERLESSj UNO ANNO INTERSTITE, 
 
 PASTOR. 
 
 MULTA IN TAM BREVISSIMO CURRICULO 
 
 DIDICIT, PR^STITIT, DOCUIT, 
 
 CffiLI AVIDUS, ET CCELO MATURUS, 
 
 0B;IT ANNO DOM. MDCLXXYIII, 
 
 ^TATIS SU^ XXVIII. 
 
 ET HIC EXUVIAS MORTALITATIS POSUIT. 
 
 For a more particular account of our author's hfe and 
 character, we refer the reader to tlie sermon preached at 
 his funeral, by Dr. George Gairden, which was first pub- 
 lished, from an authentic manuscript, by the Reverend Mr. 
 Cockburn, sometime minister of St. Paul's at Aberdeen, 
 and which we have here subjoined to Mr. Scougal's dis- 
 courses. 
 
 Besides the works now published, our author left behind 
 him some occasional reflections, and moral essays, which 
 Iiad been the exercises of liis retired moments, while but a 
 student at the University; as, also, three manuscript tracts 
 in Latin, viz: A short System of Ethics, or Moral Philosophy; 
 a Preservative against the Artifices of the Roman IMissiona- 
 ries; and a Treatise of the Pastoral Care: tl^e last unfin- 
 ished, 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 Tlie works of this excellent author have too well recom- 
 mended themselves, to need any new encomiums. It can, 
 however, be no improper preface to this edition, (which we 
 hope will be found a correct one,) to present the reader 
 with tlie accounts of the following discourses, which the rev- 
 erend and learned men who formerly published them, have 
 prefixed to their respective editions. 
 
 The sermons were first collected, and made public, by 
 the above Mr. Cockburn; who tells us " he was encouraged 
 to it, by some persons no less eminent for their piety and 
 virtue, than for their birth and quality. I have endeavour- 
 ed," says he, " to give them as correct as possible; though 
 some of the manuscripts I was obliged to make use of, had 
 not been transcribed with that care and exactness they 
 ought. It cannot be expected," continues he, " that these 
 discourses, which were never designed by the autlior for 
 the press, can appear with the same advantage as the Trea- 
 tise," (meaning The Life of God in the Soul of Man) "which, 
 at the persuasion of his friends, was pubUshed in his life- 
 time; yet, as they retain the same spirit and genius, and give 
 the same clear and persuasive notions of reUgion, it is hoped 
 they will beiavourably received, as well as that they may 
 be very profitable to the candid and serious reader." 
 
 But now, to come to our author's noblest and most per- 
 fect work. The Life of God in the Soul of xMan. This dis- 
 course was first published about the year 1677, in the au- 
 tlior's hfe-time, by the Reverend Dr. Burnett, afterwards 
 bishop of Sarum, who introduced it into the world with the 
 following account: " It was written by a pious and learned 
 countrj'man of mine, for the private use of a noble friend of 
 the author's, without the least design of making it more 
 public. Others seeing it, were much taken both with the 
 excellent purposes it contained, and the great clearness and 
 pleasantness of the style; the natural method, and the short- 
 ness of it; and desired it might be made a more public good: 
 and knowing some interest I had with the authoj , it was re- 
 ferred to me whether it should lie in a private closet, or be 
 let go abroad. I was not long in suspense, having read it 
 over; and knowing that the author had written out nothing 
 here, but what he himself did well feel and know: andtliere- 
 fore, it being a transcript of those divine impressions that 
 are upon his own heait, I hope the native and unforced gen- 
 uineness of it, will both delight and edify the reader." 
 1* 
 
\l PREFACE. 
 
 The Reverend Dr. Gairden, in our author's funeral ser- 
 mon, speaks much to the same effect. " Sme, whoever 
 considers the importance of the matter of that book, the 
 clear representation of the life and spirit of true religion, 
 and its graces, the great excellency and advantages of it, 
 the proposal of the most effectual means for attaining to it 
 by the grace of God, the piety and seasonableness of the 
 devotions, together with tlie natural and affectionate elo- 
 quence of the style, cannot but be sensible of its great use- 
 fulness, to inspire us with the spirit of true religion; to en- 
 lighten our minds with a right sense and knowledge of it; 
 to warm our hearts with suitable affections and breatliings 
 after it, and to direct our hves to the practice of it." 
 
 To the same purpose, let us hear the before mentioned 
 Mr. Cockburn. " The clear style, and easy method of our 
 author, the just and amiable representation he gives of reli- 
 gion, in this little treatise, have made it deservedly valued 
 and esteemed by all judicious persons: and it has become 
 a happy means of giving right notions of religion to many, 
 making them in love with it, and putting them upon the 
 practice of what they saw was infinitely desirable in itself, 
 and, with some pains and industry, attainable by them." 
 
 The Reverend Dr. Wishart, Principal of the College of 
 Edinburgh, published, some years ago, a small edition of 
 this incomparable Treatise, with a recommendatory preface, 
 equally pious, candid, and judicious; an extract of which 
 will, therefore, very properly conclude our preface. 
 
 " Since I had the happiness to become acquainted with 
 this book, I have heartily blessed God for the benefit I have 
 received to my own soul, by the perusal of it; and have earn- 
 estly wished it had a place in every family; was carefully 
 perused by every one who can read; and that the senti- 
 ments of pure and undefiled religion it contains, were im- 
 pressed upon every heart, 
 
 " The things which especially recommend the book to my 
 heart, and which, I think, cannot fail to recommend it to the 
 heart of every serious peruser of it, are: 1. The just notions 
 it contains of real and vital religion, in opposition to the com- 
 mon mistakes concerning it, and the view it gives us of that 
 ingenuous spirit which belongs to true piety; with a just al- 
 lowance, at the same time, to the proper influence of ex- 
 ternal motives. 2. The excellency and force of the motives 
 by which true religion is here recommended, together with 
 
PRKFACE. \ii 
 
 the energy and warmth with which they are delivered. 
 B. The excellent directions here given, for attaining true 
 piety and goodness. 4. The prudence and charity the wor- 
 thy author discovers, in avoiding matters of doubtful dispu- 
 tation, about which the best and wisest men differ, while 
 he is treating of matters of the greatest importance, about 
 which all good and wise men must agree. And oh! had 
 we more of tliat true Christian spirit, so beautifully deline- 
 ated, and so warmly recommended in this book, I cannot 
 but think, that the fierceness of our contentions and ani- * 
 mosities about things of lesser moment, must considerably 
 abate. In fine, that vein of good sense and clear thought, 
 and of serious piety, which runs through the whole of tins 
 performance, exceedingly commended it to me. 
 
 " For these reasons, I earnestly recommend this book to 
 the careful perusal of all with whom my recommendation 
 may be of any weiglit; particularly to the people of those 
 congregations of which I have had, or now have the over- 
 sight. 
 
 " I would, in a particular manner, recommend it to the 
 rising generation; in whose education I have the honour to 
 have a considerable charge. And olil that I could be so 
 happy as to make them sensible, how much it Avould con- 
 tribute to the peace and satisfaction of their whole after-life, 
 to have their minds and hearts early possessed of such just 
 notions of true piety and goodness, and such a prevailing 
 liking to it, as this excellent book tends to promote; how 
 much, I say, this would conduce to their true enjoyment in 
 a present life, even though we should set aside the consider- 
 ation of that eternal state, to Avhich we are all hastening 
 apace, and Avhether the youngest of us knows not how soon 
 he may take his flight. The chief part, and valuable end, 
 of all true knowledge and learning, is, the rectifying and 
 improvement of the heart. I would, especially, recommend 
 this book to our joung students, who have their views to- 
 ward the sacred function. I cannot but reckon, that the 
 most necessary part of preparation for that important work, 
 is, to have such a just understanding of the great design of 
 religion and Christianity, and such a test of true pietv and 
 goodness, as this book tends to inspire us with. An honest 
 and good heart is the main thing necessary for preaching 
 iMe word of God, as well as for hearing it, with profit 
 
VIU PREFACE. 
 
 " In fine, I hope I may take the liberty to recommend it 
 to my younger brethren in the holy ministry. The careful 
 perusal of this httle book may, I hope, contribute to the 
 further improvement of their notions of religion, and to pro- 
 mote in them that rational piety and real goodness, in which 
 they ought to be examples to tlieir flocks. It may also af- 
 ford them excellent hints to be improved upon, according 
 to the abihties God has given them in their public performan- 
 ces. There are few paragraphs in this excellent book, but 
 what may be profitably enlarged into a sermon. And oh! 
 my brethren, how may it put us to the blush, and what a holy 
 emulation should it raise in us, to know, that the wortliy 
 autlior of this admirable book, composed it before he was 
 twenty-seven years of age! what a spur to oiu: diligence, 
 that he came to the end and reward of his labours before 
 he was eight and twenty! " 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE LIFE OP GOD IN THE SOUL OP MAN 
 
 The occasion of this discourse - - 13 
 
 Mistakes about religion - - 14 
 
 What religion is? - - - 15 
 
 Its permanency and stability - - 15 
 
 Its freedom and unconstrainedness » 16 
 
 Religion a divine principle - - 18 
 
 The natural life, what? - 18 
 
 The different tendencies thereof - 19 
 
 The divine life, wherein it consists - - 21 
 
 Religion better understood by actions, than by words 24 
 
 Divine love exemplified in our Blessed Saviour 24 
 
 His diligence in doing God's will - 24 
 
 His patience in bearing it - - 24 
 
 His constant devotion - - 26 
 
 His charity to men - - - 26 
 
 His purity - - - 27 
 
 His humility - , - 28 
 
 A prayer - - - - 80 
 
 The excellency and advantage of religion - 30 
 
 The excellency of divine love - - 81 
 
 The advantages of divine love - - 33 
 
 The worth of the object to be regarded - 34 
 
 Love requires a reciprocal return - 35 
 
 Love requires the object to be present - 35 
 The divine love makes us partake of an infinite 
 
 happiness - - - 36 
 He that loveth God, finds sweetness in all his dis- 
 pensations - - - 37 
 The duties of religion are delightful to him 37 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 The excellency of universal charity and love 38 
 
 The pleasure that attends it - - 39 
 
 The excelle»cy of purity - - 40 
 
 The delight it affords _ - 40 
 
 The excellency of humility - - 41 
 
 The pleasure and sweetness of a humble temper 42 
 
 A prayer - - - ^^ 
 
 Despondent thoughts, which may arise in such as 
 
 are awakened to a sense of religion - 44 
 The unreasonableness of such fears - 46 
 We must use our utmost endeavours, and then re- 
 ly on God's assistance - - 48 
 We must shun all manner of sin - 50 
 We must learn what things are sinful - 51 
 We must consider the evils of sin, and resist the 
 
 temptations to it - - 52 
 
 We must constantly watch ourselves - 55 
 
 We must often examine our actions - 56 
 
 We must restrain ourselves in many lawful things 57 
 We must strive to put ourselves out of love with 
 
 the world - - - 57 
 We must conscientiously form the outward ac- 
 tions of religion _ - 60 
 We must endeavour to perform internal acts of 
 
 devotion and charity, &c. - - 61 
 
 Consideration, a great instrument of religion 62 
 We must consider the excellency of the divine 
 
 nature, to beget divine love in us -r 63 
 We must often meditate on God's goodness and 
 
 love ^ - - - 65 
 
 To beget charity, we must remember that all men 
 
 are nearly related unto God - 68 
 
 That they bear his image - - 68 
 
 To beget purity, we must consider the dignity of 
 
 our nature - - - 69 
 
 And meditate, often, on the joys of heaven 70 
 
 Humility ariseth from the consideration of our 70 
 
 failings - - "70 
 
 Thoughts of God, make us have an humble sense 
 
 of ourselves » '- .. -^ 71 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 Prayer, another instrument of religion - 72 
 
 Mental prayer, very profitable - - 72 
 
 Religion is advanced by the same means with I 
 
 which it began - - - T3 
 The frequent use of the Holy Sacrament, an ex- 
 traordinary means to increase holiness and 
 
 piety - - - - 73 
 
 A prayer - - - 74 
 
 NINE DISCOURSES. 
 
 I. The superior Excellency of the Religious. 
 
 — On Prov. xii. 26. ' The righteous is more 
 excellent than his neighbour.' - 77 
 
 II. The indispensable Duty of loving our Ene- 
 
 mies. — On Luke vi. 27. ' But I say unto 
 you which hear. Love your enemies.' 94 
 
 III. The Necessity and Advantage of early Af- 
 
 flictions. — On Lam. iii. 27, 28. ' It is good 
 for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth: 
 he sitteth alone, and keepeth silence, be- 
 cause he hath borne it upon him.' 116 
 
 IV. That there are but a small Number saved. — 
 
 On Luke xiii. 23. ' Then said one unto him. 
 Lord, are there few ^hat be saved ? And he 
 said unto them,' &c, - - 131 
 
 V. The Duty and Pleasure of Praise and Thanks- 
 
 giving. — On Psalm cviii. 15. ' O ! that men 
 would praise the Lord for his goodness, and 
 for his wonderful works to the Children 
 of men.' - - - - 148 
 
Ttll CONTENTS. 
 
 "VT. On the Nativity of our Saviour. — From 
 Psalm ii. 11. ' Rejoice with trembling.* 
 Wherein, of the usefulness of the two pas- 
 sions, joy and fear, iu religion. - 161 
 
 Vn. On the Passion of our Saviour. — From Lam. 
 i. 12. ' Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass 
 by? Behold and see if there be any sorrow 
 like unto my sorrow.' - - 178 
 
 VIII. A Preparation for the Holy Sacrament. — On 
 Joshua iii. 5. ' Sanctify yourselves: for 
 tomorrow the Lord will do wonders among 
 you.' [This is imperfect.] - 192 
 
 IX. Of the Importance and Difficulty of the 
 
 Ministerial Function. — On 2 Cor. ii. 16. 
 
 * Who is sufficient for these things ?' - 199 
 
 A Sermon, preached at the Funeral of the Rev 
 Henry ScouGAL. By George Gair- 
 DEN, D. D. — On Phil. i. 2. * For to me to 
 live is Christ, and to die b gain.* - 223 
 
THE lilFE OF GOD 
 
 IN THE 
 
 SOUL OF MAIY. 
 
 My dear Friend, 
 This designation doth give you a title to all the en- 
 deavours whereby I can serve your interests; and your 
 pious inclinations do so happily conspire with my duty, 
 that I shall not need to step out of my road to gratify you; 
 but I may at once perform an office of friendship, and dis- 
 charge an exercise of my function, since the advancing of 
 virtue and holiness (which I hope you make your great- 
 est study) is the peculiar business of my employment. 
 This, therefore, is the most proper instance wherein I 
 can vent my affection, and express my gratitude towards 
 you ; and 1 shall not any longer delay the performance 
 of the promise I made you to this purpose. For though 
 I know you are provided with better helps of this na- 
 ture than any I can offer you ; nor are you like to meet 
 with any thing here which you knew not before ; yet I 
 am hopeful, that what cometh from one whom" you are 
 pleased to honour with your friendship, and which is 
 more particularly designed for your use, will be kindly 
 accepted by you; and God's providence perhaps may 
 so direct my thoughts, that something or other may 
 prove useful to you. Nor shall I doubt your pardon, 
 if, for moulding my discourse into the better frame, I 
 lay a low foundation, beginning with the nature and 
 properties of religion, and all along give such way to 
 my thoughts in the prosecution of the subject, as may 
 bring me to say many things which were not necessary, 
 did I only consider to whom I am writing. 
 
14 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 Mistakes about religion. 
 I cannot speak of religion, but I must lament, that, 
 among so many pretenders to it, so few understand 
 what it means: some placing it in the understanding, in 
 orthodox notions and opinions; and all the account they 
 can give of their religion is, that they are of this or the 
 other persuasion, and have joined themselves to one of 
 those many sects vvhereinto Christendom is most un- 
 happily divided. Others place it in the outward man, 
 in a constant course of external duties, and a model of 
 performances: if they live peaceably with their neigh- 
 bours, keep a temperate diet, observe the returns of 
 worship, frequentbig the church and thek closet, and 
 sometimes extend their hands to the relief of the poor^ 
 they tbhik they have sufficiently acquitted themselveg. 
 Others again put all religion in the affections, in raptur- 
 ous heats and ecstatic devotion; and all they aim at, is, 
 to pray with passion, and think of heaven with pleasure, 
 and to be affected with those kind and melting expres- 
 sions wherewith they court their Saviour, till they per- 
 suade themselves that they are mightily in love with 
 him; and from thence assume a great confidence of their" 
 salvation, which they esteem the chief of Christian gra- 
 ces. Thus are those things which have any resemblance 
 of piety, and at the best are but means of obtaming it, 
 or particular exercises of it, frequently mistaken for the' 
 whole of religion; nay, sometimes wickedness and vice" 
 pretend to that name. I speak not now of those gross 
 impieties wherewith the heathens were wont to w^or- 
 ship their gods: there are but too many Christians who 
 would consecrate their vices, and hallow their corrupt 
 affections; whose rugged humour, and sullen pride, mu.st 
 pass for Christian severity; whose fierce wrath, and bit- 
 ter rage against their enemies, must be called holy zeal; 
 whose petulancy towards their superiors, or rebellion- 
 against their governors, must have the name of Chris- 
 tian courage and resolution. 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 15 
 
 What religion is. 
 But certainly religion is quite another thing ; and they 
 who are acquainted with it, will entertain far ditTerent 
 thoughts, and disdain all those shadows and false imita- 
 tions of it. They know by experience, that true religion 
 is an union of the soul with God, a real participation of the 
 divine nature, the verj' image of God drawn upon the soul ; 
 or, in the Apostle's phrase, it is Christ formed ivithin 
 us. Briefly, I know not how the nature of religion can 
 be more fully expressed, than by calling it a divine life. 
 And under these terms I shall discourse of it ; showing first 
 how it is called a life, and then how it is termed divine. 
 
 The permanency and stability of religion. 
 I choose to express it by the name of life ; first, be- 
 cause of its permanency and stability. Religion is not 
 a sudden start, or passion of the mind ; not though it 
 should rise to the height of a rapture and seem to trans- 
 port a man to extraordinary performances. There are 
 few but have convictions of the necessity of doing some- 
 thing for the salvation of their souls, which may push 
 them forward some steps with a great deal of seeming 
 haste. But anon they flag and give over: they were in a 
 hot mood, but now they are cooled: they did shoot forth 
 fresh and high, but are quickly withered, because they 
 had no root in themselves. These sudden fits may be 
 compared to the violent and convulsive motions of bodies 
 newly beheaded, caused by the agitations of the animal 
 spfrits, after the soul is departed ; which however vio- 
 lent and impetuous, can be of no long continuance : 
 whereas the motions of holy souls are constant and reg- 
 ular, proceeding from a permanent and lively principle. 
 It is true, this divine life continueth not always in the 
 same strength and vigour, but many times sutTers sad 
 decays ; and holy men find greater ditTiculty in resisting 
 temptations, and less alacrity in the performance of their 
 duties : yet it is not quite extinguished, nor are they aban^ 
 doned to the power of those corrupt affections which 
 gway and overrule the rest of the world 
 
16 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 The freedom and unconstrainedness of religion. 
 Again, religion may be defined by the name of life, 
 because it is an inward, free, and self-moving princi- 
 ple; and those who have made progress in it, are not 
 actuated only by external motives, driven merely by 
 threatenings, nor bribed by promises, nor constrained by 
 laws; but are powerfully inclined to that which is good, 
 and delight in the performance of it. The love which 
 a pious man bears to God and goodness, is not so much 
 by virtue of a command enjoining him so to do, as by a 
 new nature instructing and prompting him to it; nor doth 
 he pay his devotions as an unavoidable tribute, only to 
 appease the divine justice, or quiet his clamorous con- 
 science; but those religious exercises are the proper ema- 
 nations of the divine life, the natural employments of 
 the new-born soul. He prays, and gi\^s thanks, and re- 
 pents, not only because these things are commanded, 
 but rather because he is sensible of his wants, and of the 
 divine goodness, and of the folly and misery of a sinful 
 life. His charity is not forced, nor his alms extorted 
 from him: his love makes him willing to give; and though 
 there were no outward obligation, his heart would de- 
 vise liberal things. Injustice and intemperance, and all 
 other vices, are as contrary to his temper and constitu- 
 tion, as the basest actions are to the most generous spir- 
 it, and impudence and scurrility to those who are natu- 
 rally modest: so that I may well say with St. John, 
 Whosoever is born of God, doth not commit sin; for 
 his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin, be- 
 cause he is born of God. Though holy and religious 
 persons do much eye the law of God, and have a great 
 regard unto it; yet it is not so much the sanction of the 
 law, as its reasonableness, and purity, and goodness, 
 which do prevail with thejii: they account it excellent 
 and desirable in itself, and that in keeping of it there is 
 great reward; and that divine love wherewith they are 
 actuated, makes them become a law unto themselves. 
 
lie THE SOITL OF MAN. 17 
 
 Quls legem det amantlbus'? 
 
 Major est amor lex ipse sibi. 
 Who shall prescribe a law to those that lovel 
 Love's a more powerful law which doth them move. 
 
 In a word, what our blessed Saviour said of himself, is 
 in some measure applicable to his followers, that it is 
 their meat and drtnk to do their Father'' s will: and as 
 the natural appetite is carried out toward food, though we 
 should not reflect on the necessity of it for the preserva- 
 tion of our lives; so are they carried with a natural and 
 unforced propension toward that which is good and com- 
 mendable. It is true, external motives are many times 
 of great use to excite and stir up this inward principle, 
 especially in its infancy and weakness, when it is often 
 so languid that the man himself can scarce discern it, 
 hardly being able to move one step forward, but when 
 he is pushed by his hopes, or his fears; by the pressure 
 of an affliction, or the sense of a mercy; by the author- 
 ity of the law, or the persuasion of others. Now, if 
 such a person be conscientious and imiform in his obedi- 
 ence, and earnestly groaning under the sense of his dul- 
 ness, and is desirous to perform his duties with more 
 spirit and vigour: these are the first motions of the divine 
 life, which, though it be faint and weak, will surely be 
 cherished by the influences of heaven, and grow unto 
 greater maturity. But he who is utterly destitute of this 
 inward principle, and doth not aspire unto it, but con- 
 tents himself with those performances whereunto he is 
 prompted by education or custom, by the fear of hell, 
 or carnal notions of heaven, can no more be accounted 
 a religious person, than a puppet can be called a man. 
 This forced and artificial religion is commonly heavy 
 and languid, like the motion of a weight forced upward* 
 it is cold and spiritless, like the uneasy compliance of a 
 wife married against her will, who carries it dutifully to- 
 ward the husband whom she doth not love, out of some 
 sense of virtue or honour. Hence also this religion 
 is scant and niggardly, especially in those duties which 
 do greatest violence to men's carnal inclinations; and 
 those slavish spirits will be sure to do no more than \a 
 2» 
 
18 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 absolutely required: it is a law that compels them, and 
 they will be loth to go beyond what it stints them to; 
 nay, they will ever be putting such glosses on it, as 
 may leave themselves the greatest liberty; whereas the 
 spirit of true religion is frank and liberal, far from such 
 peevish and narrow reckoning; and he who hath given 
 himself entirely unto God, will never tliink he doth 
 too much for him. 
 
 Religion a divine principle. 
 By this time I hope it doth appear, that religion ig, 
 with a great deal of reason, termed a life, or vital prin- 
 ciple; and that it is very necessary to distinguish between 
 it, and that obedience which is constrained and depends 
 on external causes. I come next to give an account 
 why I defined it by the name of divine life. And so 
 it may be called, not only in regard to its fountain and 
 original, having God for its author, and being wrought 
 in the souls of men by the power of his Holy Spirit; but 
 also in regard of its nature, religion being a resemblance 
 of the divine perfections, the image of the Almighty 
 shining in the soul of man: nay, it is a real participation 
 of his nature; it is a beam of the eternal light, a drop of 
 that infinite ocean of goodness; and they who are endued 
 with it, may be said to have God dwelling in their 
 souls and Christ formed within them. 
 
 What the natural life is. 
 Before I descend to a more particular consideration 
 of that divine life wherein true religion doth consist, it 
 will be fit to speak a little of that natural or animal life 
 which prevails in those who are strangers to the other, 
 And by this I understand nothing else, but our inclina- 
 tion and propension toward those things which are pleas^ 
 ing and acceptable to nature; or self love issuing forth 
 and spreading itself into as many branches as men have 
 several appetites and inclinations. The root and foun- 
 dation of the animal life I reckon to be sense, taking it 
 largely, as it is opposed unto faith, and importeth our 
 perception and sensation of things that are either grate- 
 
V THE SOUL OF MAN. 19 
 
 ful or troubltj^ome to us. Now, these animal affections 
 considered in themselves, and as they are implanted in 
 us by nature, are not vicious or blameable; nay, they 
 are instances of the v^'isdom of the creator furnishing his 
 creatures with such appetites as tend to the preservation 
 and welfare of their lives. These are instead of a law 
 unto the brute beasts, whereby they are directed towards 
 the ends for which they were made. But man, being 
 made for higher purposes, and to be guided by more ex- 
 cellent laws, becomes guilty and criminal when he is so 
 far transported by the inclinations of this lowgr life, as to 
 violate his duty, or neglect the higher and more noble 
 designs of his creation. Our natural affections are not 
 wholly to be extirpated and destroyed, but only to be 
 moderated and overruled by a superior and more excel- 
 lent principle. In a word, tlie difference between a re- 
 ligious and a wicked man is, that in the one divine life 
 bears sway, in the other the animal life doth prevail. 
 
 The different tendencies of the natural life. 
 But it is strange to observe, unto what different cour- 
 ses this natural principle will sometimes carry those who 
 are wholly guided by it, according to the diverse circimi- 
 stances that concur with it to determine them ; and then 
 not considering this, doth frequently occasion very dan- 
 gerous mistakes, making men think well of themselves 
 by reason of that seeming difference which is between 
 them and others; whereas perhaps their actions do all 
 the while flow from one and the same original. If we 
 consider the natural temper and constitution of men's 
 souls, we shall find some to be airy, frolicksome, and 
 light, which makes their behaviour extravagant and 
 ridiculous; whereas others are naturally serious and se- 
 vere, and their whole carriage composed into such 
 gravity as gains them a great deal of reverence and es- 
 teem. Some are of an humorsome, rugged, and mo- 
 rose temper, and can neither be pleased themselves, nor 
 endure that others should be so. But all are not born 
 with such sour and unhappy dispositions; for some per- 
 fsons have a certain sweetness and benignity rooted in 
 
20 THT5 LIFE OF GOD 
 
 their natures, and they find the greatest pleasure in the 
 endearments of society, and the mutual complacency 
 of friends, and covet nothing more than to have every 
 body obliged to them. And it is well that nature hath 
 provided this complexional tenderness to supply the de- 
 fect of true charity in the world, and to incline men to 
 do something for one another's welfare. Again, in re- 
 gard of education, some have never been taught to fol- 
 low any other rules, than those of pleasure or advantage: 
 but others are so inured to observe the strictest rules of 
 decency and honour, and some instances of virtue, that 
 they are hardly capable of doing any thing which they 
 have been accustomed to look upon as base and un- 
 worthy. 
 
 In fine, it is no small difference in the deportment 
 of mere natural men, that doth arise from the strength 
 or weakness of their wit or judgment, and from their 
 care or negligence in using them. Intemperance and 
 lust, injustice and oppression, and all those other impie- 
 ties which abound in the world, and render it so miser- 
 able, are the issues of self-love, the effect of the ani- 
 mal life, when it is neither overpowered by religion, 
 nor governed by natural reason. But if it once take 
 hold of reason, and get judgment and wit to be of its 
 party, it will many times disdain the grosser sort of 
 vices, and spring up unto fair imitations of virtue and 
 goodness. If a man have but so much reason as to 
 consider the prejudice which intemperance and inordi- 
 nate lust do bring upon his health, his fortune, and his 
 reputation, self-love may suffice to restrain him; and 
 one may observe the rules of moral justice in dealing 
 W'ith others, as the best way to secure his own interest, 
 and maintain his credit in the world. But this is not 
 all. This natural principle, by the help of reason, may 
 take a higher flight, and come nigher the instances of 
 piety and religion. It may incline a man to the dili- 
 gent study of divine truths; for why should not these, 
 as well as other speculations, be pleasant and grateful 
 to curious and inquisitive minds? It may make men 
 zealous in maintaining and propagating such opinions as 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 21 
 
 they have espoused, and be very desirous that others 
 should submit unto their judgment, and approve the 
 choice of religion which they themselves have made. It 
 may make them delight to hear and compose excellent 
 discourses about the matters of religion; for eloquence 
 is very pleasant whatever be the subject. Nay, some 
 it may dispose to no small height of sensible devotion. 
 The glorious things that are spoken of heaven, may 
 make even a carnal heart in love with it ; the metaphors 
 and similitudes made use of in scripture, of crowns and 
 sceptres, and rivers of pleasure, &c. will easily affect a 
 man's fancy, and make him wish to be there, though 
 he neither understand nor desire those spiritual pleasures 
 which are described and shadowed forth by them: and 
 when such a person comes to believe that Christ has 
 purchased those glorious things for him, he may feel a 
 kind of tenderness and affection towards so great a be- 
 nefactor, and imagine that he is mightily enamoured with 
 him, and yet all the while continue a stranger to the 
 holy temper and spirit of the blessed Jesus. And what 
 hand the natural constitution may have in the rapturous 
 devotions of some melancholy persons, hath been excel- 
 lently discovered of late by several learned and judi- 
 cious pens. 
 
 To conclude: there is nothing proper to make a man's 
 life pleasant,, or himself eminent and conspicuous in the 
 world, but this uatural principle, assisted by wit and 
 reason, may prompt him to it. And though I do not 
 condemn these things in themselves, yet it concerns us 
 nearly to know and consider their nature, both that we 
 may keep within due bounds, and also that we may 
 leara never to value ourselves on the account of such 
 attainments, nor lay the stress of religion upon our nat- 
 ural appetites or performances. 
 
 Wherein the divine life doth consist. 
 
 It is now time to return to the consideration of that 
 
 divine life whereof I was discoursing before; that life 
 
 which is hid with Christ i?i God, and therefore hath 
 
 no glorious show or appearance in the worldj and to 
 
22 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 the natural man will seem a mean and insipid notion 
 As the annnal life consisteth in that narrow and confin- 
 ed love which is terminated on a man's self, and in his 
 propension towards those things that are pleasing to na- 
 ture; so the divine life stands in an universal and un- 
 bounded affection, and in the mastery over our natural 
 inclinations, that they may never be able to betray us 
 to those things which we know to be blameable. The 
 root of the divine life is faith; the chief branches are, love 
 to God, charity to man, purity and humility: for (as an 
 excellent person hath well observed) however these 
 names be common and vulgar, and make no extraordi- 
 nary sound; yet do they carry such a mighty sense, that 
 the tongue of man or angel can pronounce nothing 
 more weighty or excellent. Faith hath the same place 
 in the divine life which sense hath in the natural, be- 
 ing indeed nothing else but a kind of sense, or feeling 
 persuasion of spiritual things. It extends itself unto all 
 divine truths: but, in our lapsed estate, it hath a pecu- 
 liar relation to the declarations of God's mercy and re- 
 concilableness to sinners through a Mediator; and there- 
 fore, receiving its denomination from that principal ob- 
 ject, is ordinarily termed faith in Jesus Christ. 
 
 The love of God is a delightful and affectionate sense 
 of the divine perfections, which makes the soul resign 
 and sacrifice itself wholly unto him, desiring above all 
 things to please him, and delighting in nothing so much 
 as in fellowship and communion with him, and being 
 ready to do or suffer any thing for his sake, or at his 
 pleasure. Though this affection may have its first rise 
 from the favours and mercies of God towards ourselves, 
 yet doth it in its growth and progress transcend such par- 
 ticular considerations, and ground itself on his infinite 
 goodness manifested in all the works of creation and 
 providence. A soul thus possessed with divine love, 
 must needs be enlarged towards all mankind in a sincere 
 and unbounded affection, because of the relation they 
 have to God, being his creatures, and having something 
 of his image stamped upon them. And this is that char- 
 ity I named as the second branch of religion, and under 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 23 
 
 which all the parts of justice, all the duties we owe to 
 our neighbour, are eminently comprehended: for he who 
 doth truly love all the world, will be nearly concerned 
 in the interest of every one; and so far from wronging 
 or injuring any person, that he will resent any evil that 
 befalls others, as if it happened to himself. 
 
 By purity, I understand a due abstractedness from 
 the body, and mastery over the inferior appetites; or 
 such a temper and disposition of mind, as makes a man 
 despise, and abstain from all pleasures and delights of 
 sense or fancy which are sinful in themselves or tend to 
 extinguish or lessen our relish of more divine and intel- 
 lectual pleasures; which doth also infer a resoluteness to 
 undergo all those hardships he may meet with m the 
 performance of his duty. So that not only chastity and 
 temperance, but also Christian courage and magnanim- 
 ity may come under this head. 
 
 Huniility imports a deep sense of our own weakness, 
 with a hearty and affectionate acknowledgement of our 
 owing all that we are to the divine bounty ; which is al- 
 ways accompanied with a profound submission to the 
 will of God, and great deadness towards the glory of the 
 world, and applause of men. 
 
 These are the highest perfections that either men or 
 angels are capable of; the very foundation of heaven laid 
 in the soul. And he who hath attained them, needs not 
 desire to pry into the hidden rolls of God's deci^ees, or 
 search the volumes of heaven, to know what is deter- 
 mined about his everla-stuig condition; but he may find 
 a copy of God's thoughts concerning him written in his 
 own breast. His love to God may give him assurance 
 of God's favour to him; and those beginnings of happi- 
 ness which he feels in the conformity of the powers of 
 his soul to the nature of God, and compliance with his 
 will, are a sure pledge that his felicity shall be perfected, 
 and continued to all eternity. And it is not without rea- 
 son that one said, " I had rather see the real impres- 
 sions of a God-like nature upon my own soul, than have 
 a vision from heaven, or an angel sent to tell mc that 
 my name was enrolled in the bookcf life." 
 
24 THE LIFE OF COD 
 
 Religion better understood by actions than by 
 
 words. 
 When we have said all that we can, the secret mys- 
 teries of a new nature and divine life can never be suf- 
 ficiently expressed; language and words cannot reach 
 them : nor can they be truly understood but by those souls 
 that are enkindled within, and awakened unto the sense 
 and relish of spiritual things. There is a spirit in 
 man, and the inspiration of the ^hnighty giveth 
 him understanding. The power and life of religion 
 may be better expressed in actions than in words; because 
 actions are more lively things, and do better represent 
 the inward principle whence they proceed; and therefore 
 we may take the best measure of those gracious endow- 
 ments from the deportment of those in whom they reside; 
 especially as they are perfectly exemplified in the holy life 
 of our blessed Saviour; a main part of whose business in 
 this world, was, to teach by his practice vvhathe did re- 
 quire of others, and to make his own conversation an 
 exact resemblance of those unparalleled rules which he 
 prescribed: so that if ever true goodness was visible Xo 
 mortal eyes, it was then when his presence did beautify 
 and illustrate this lower world. 
 
 Divine love exemplified in our Saviour: — His dili- 
 gence in doing God's will, and His patience in 
 hearing it. 
 
 That sincere and devout affection wherewith his hies-- 
 sed soul did constantly burn towards his heavenly Father, 
 did express itself in an entire resignation to his will.- 
 It was his very meat, to do the will, and finish the 
 tvork of him that sent him. This was the exercise 
 of his childhood, and the constant employment of his 
 riper age. He spared no travail or pains while he was 
 about his Father's business, but took such infinite content 
 and satisfaction in tbe performance of it, that when, 
 being faint and weary with his journey, he rested him- 
 self on Jacob's well, and entreated water of the Sajua- 
 ri^an woman; the success of his conference with her^ 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAK. 25 
 
 and the accession that was made to the kingdom of 
 God, filled his mind with such delight, as seemed to have 
 redounded to his very body, refreshing his spirits, and 
 making him forget the thirst whereof he complained be- 
 fore, and refuse the meat which he had sent his disciples 
 to buy. Nor was he less patient and submissive in suf- 
 fering the will of God, than diligent in doing of it. He 
 endured the sharpest afflictions and extremest miseries 
 that ever were inflicted on any mortal, without a re- 
 pining thought, or discontented word. For though he 
 was far from a stupid insensibility, or a fantastic or Sto- 
 ical obstinacy, and had as quick a sense of pain as other 
 men, and the deepest apprehension of what he was to 
 suffer in his soul, (as his bloody sweat, and the soi^e 
 amazement and sorroiv which he professed, do abun- 
 dantly declare) ; yet did he entirely submit to that severe 
 dispensation of providence, and willingly acquiesced 
 in it. 
 
 And he prayed to God, that if it were possible, (or, 
 as one of the Evangelists hath it, if he were willing,) 
 that cup might be removed; yet he gently added, 
 ^Nevertheless, not my 7viU, but thine he done. Of 
 what strange importance are the expressions, John xii, 
 27, where he first acknowledgeth the anguish of his 
 spirit, JVow is my soul troubled; which would seem 
 to produce a kind of demur, And ichat shall I say 7 
 and then he goes on to deprecate his sufferings. Fath- 
 er, save me from this hour; which he had no sooner 
 uttered, but he doth, as it were, on second thoughts, 
 recall it, in these words. But for this cause came I 
 into the world; and concludes. Father, glorify thy 
 name. Now, we must not look on this as any levity, 
 or blameable weakness in the blessed Jesus. He knew 
 all along what he was to suffer, and did most resolute- 
 ly undergo it. But it shows us the inconceivable weight 
 and pressure that he was to bear; which, being so afflict- 
 ing, and contrary to nature, he could not think of with- 
 out terror; yet, considering the will of God, and the glo- 
 ry which was to redound to him from thence, he was 
 not only content but desirous to sufier it. 
 
 a 
 
26 THE LIFE or GOD 
 
 Our Saviour^s constant devotiom 
 Another instance of his I'Ove to God, was, his de^ 
 light in conversing with him by prayer; which made 
 him frequently retire from the world, and with the 
 greatest devotion and pleasnre spend w^hole nights in 
 that heavenly exercise, though he had no sins to confess^ 
 and but few secular interests to pray for; which, alas! 
 are almost the only things that are wont to drive us to 
 our devotions. JXay, we may say his whole life was a 
 kind of prayer, a constant course of communion with 
 God; if the sacrifice was not always offering, yet was 
 the fire still kept alive: nor was ever the blessed Jesus 
 surprised with that dulness or tepidity of spirit which 
 we must many times wrestle with, before w^e can be fit 
 for the exercise of devotion. 
 
 Our Saviour'' s charity to men. 
 
 In the second place, I should speak of his love and 
 charity towards all men. But he who would express it, 
 must transcribe the history of the gospel, and comment 
 upon it: for scarce any thing is recorded to have been 
 done or spoken by him, which was not designed for the 
 good and advantage of some one or other. All his mir- 
 aculous w^orks were instances of his goodness, as well 
 as his power; and they benefited those on whom they 
 were wrought, as well as they amazed the beholders. 
 His charity was not confined to his kindred or relations; 
 nor was all his kindness swallowed up in the endear- 
 ments of that peculiar friendship which he carried to- 
 wards the beloved disciple, but every one was \\h friend 
 who obeyed his holy commands, John xv. 14; and 
 ivhosoever did the ivill of his Father, the same was 
 to him as his brother, and sif>ter, and mother. 
 
 Never was any unwelcome to him who came with 
 an honest intention; nor did he deny any request which 
 tended to the good of those that asked it. So that what 
 was spoken of that Konian Emperor, whom for his 
 goodness they called the darling of mankind, was 
 really perfornied by him; that never any departed from 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 27 
 
 him with a heavy countenance, except that rich youth, 
 Mark x. who was sorry to hear that the kingdom of 
 heaven stood at so high a rate, and that he could not save 
 his soul and his money too. And certainly it troub- 
 led our Saviour, to see that when a price was in his 
 hand to get wisdom, yet he had no heart to it. The 
 ingenuity that appeared in his first address, had already 
 procured some kindness for him ; for it is said, and Je- 
 sus beholding him, loved him. But must he for his 
 sake cut out a new way to heaven, and alter the nature 
 of things, which make it impossible that a covetous 
 man should be happy? 
 
 And what sJiall 1 speak of his meekness, who could 
 encounter the monstrous ingratitude and dissimulation 
 of that miscreant who betrayed him, in no harsher terms 
 than these, Judas, be fray est thou the Son of man 
 with a kiss? What farther evidence could we desire of 
 his fervent and unbounded charity, than that he willingly 
 laid down his life even for his most bitter enemies; and, 
 mingling his prayers with his blood, besought the Father 
 that his death might not be laid to their charge, but 
 might become the means of eternal life to those very per- 
 sons who procured it? 
 
 Our Saviour^s purity. 
 The third branch of the divine life is purity; which, 
 as I said, consists in a neglect of worldly enjoyments 
 and accommodations, and a resolute enduring of all such 
 troubles as we meet with in the doing of our duty. 
 Now, surely, if ever any person was wholly dead to 
 all the pleasures of the natural life, it was the blessed 
 Jesus, who seldom tasted them when they came in his 
 way; but never stepped out of his road to seek them. 
 Though he allowed others the comforts of wedlock, and 
 honoured marriage with his presence; yet he chose the 
 severity of a virgin life, and never knew the nuptial bed; 
 and though at the same time he supplied the want of 
 wine v^^ith a miracle, yet he would not work one for the 
 relief of his own hunger in the wilderness: so gracious 
 and divii)e was the temper of his soul, in allowing to oth- 
 
28 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 ers such lawful gratifications as himself thought good to 
 abstain from, and supplying not only their more extreme 
 and pressing necessities, but also their smaller and less 
 considerable wants. We many times hear of our Sa- 
 viour's sighs, and groans, and tears; but never that he 
 laughed, and but once that he rejoiced in spirit; so that 
 through his whole life he did exactly answer that char- 
 acter given of him by the prophet of old, that he was a 
 man of so7-rows, and acquainted with grief. Nor 
 were the troubles and disaccommodations of his life 
 other than matters of choice. For never did there any 
 appear on the stage of the world with greater advantage 
 to have raised himself to the highest secular felicity. He 
 who could bring together such a prodigious number of 
 fishes into his disciples' net, and, at another time, receive 
 that tribute from a fish which he was to pay to the tem- 
 ple, might easily have made himself the richest person 
 in the world. Nay, without any money he could have 
 maintained an army powerful enough to have jostled Ce- 
 sar out of his throne; having oftener than once fed several 
 thousands with a few loaves and small fishes. But, to 
 show how small esteem he had of all the enjoyments in 
 the world, he chose to live in so poor and mean a con- 
 dition, that though the foxes had holes, and the 
 birds of the air had nests, yet he ivho was lord and 
 heir of all things, had not whereon to lay his head. 
 He did not frequent the courts of princes, nor afiect 
 the acquaintance or converse of great ones; but, being 
 reputed the son of a carpenter, he had fishermen and 
 such other poor people for his companions, and lived at 
 such a rate as suited with the meanness of that condition. 
 
 Our Saviour's humility. 
 And thus I am brought unawares to speak of his hi(- 
 jyiility, the last branch of the divine life; wherein he 
 was a most eminent pattern to us, that we might learn 
 of him to be ineek and lowly in heart. I shall not 
 now speak of that infinite condescension of the eternal 
 Son of God, in taking our nature upon him; but only 
 reflect on our Saviour's lowly and humble deportment 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 29 
 
 while he was in the world. He had none of those sins 
 and imperfections which may justly humhle the best of 
 men; but he was so entirely swallowed up whh a deep 
 sense of the infinite perfections of God, that he appeared 
 as nothing in his own eyes, I mean, so far as he was 
 a creature. lie considered those eminent perfections 
 which sinned in his blessed soul, as not his own, but the 
 gifts of God; and therefore assumed nothing to himself 
 for them, but with the profoundest humility renounced 
 all pretences to them. Hence did he refuse that ordi- 
 nary compellation of g^ood master, when addressed to 
 his human nature, by one whom it seems was ignorant 
 of his divinity: Why callest thou me good? there is 
 none good, but God only: As if he had said. The 
 goodness of any creature (and such only thou takest me 
 to be) is not worthy to be named or taken notice of; 
 it is God alono who is originally and essentially good. 
 He never made use of his miraculous power for vanity 
 or ostentation. He would not gratify the curiosity of the 
 Jews with a sign from heaven, some prodigious appear- 
 ance in the air: nor would he follow the advice of his 
 countrymen and kindred, who would have had all his 
 great works performed in the eyes of the world, for gain- 
 ing him the greater fame. But when his charity had 
 prompted him to the relief of the miserable, his huinility 
 made him many times enjoin the concealment of the 
 miracle; and when the glory of God, and the design for 
 which he came into the world, required the publication 
 of them, he ascribed the honour of all to his Father, tell- 
 ing them, that of himself he teas able to do nothing. 
 T cannot insist on all the instances of humility in his 
 deportment towards men ; his withdrawing himself when 
 they would have made him a king, his subjection, not 
 only to his blessed mother, but to her husband, during 
 his younger years; and his submission to all the indig- 
 nities and affronts which his rude and malicious enemies 
 did put upon him. The history of his holy life, record- 
 ed by those who conversed with him, is full of such 
 passages as these. And indeed the serious and attentive 
 Study of it, is the best way to get right measures of hu 
 3* 
 
30 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 mility, and all the other parts of religion which I have 
 been endeavouring to describe. 
 
 But now, that 1 may lessen your trouble of reading a 
 long letter, by making some pauses in it, let me here 
 subjoin a prayer that might be proper when one wlx) 
 had formerly entertained some false notions of religion, 
 begins to discover what it is. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 * Infinite and eternal IMajesty, author and fountain 
 of being and blessedness, how little do we poor sinful 
 creatures know of thee, or the way to serve and please 
 thee! We talk of religion, and pretend unto it; but alas! 
 how few are there that know and consider what it means! 
 How easily do we mistake the affections of our nature, 
 and the issues of self-love for those divine graces which 
 alone can render us acceptable in tb.y sight! It may justly 
 grieve me, to consider, that I should have wandered so 
 long, and contented myself so often with vain shadows 
 and false images of piety and religion: yet I cannot but 
 acknowledge and adore thy goodness, who hast been 
 pleased in some measure to open mine eyes, and let me 
 gee what it is at which I ought to aim. I rejoice to 
 consider what mighty improvements niy nature is capa- 
 ble of, and v.hat a divine temper of spirit doth shine in 
 those whom thou art pleased to choose, and cansest to 
 approach unto thee. Blessed be thine infinite mercy, 
 who sentest thine own Son to dwell among men, and 
 to instruct them by his example as well as his laws, 
 giving them a peifect pattern of what they ought to be. 
 O that the holy life of the blessed Jesus may be always 
 in my thouglits, and before mine eyes, till I receive a 
 deep sense and impression of those excellent graces that 
 shined so eminently in him ; and let me never cease my 
 endeavours, till that new and divine nature prevail in 
 my soul and Christ be formed within me.' 
 
 The excellency and advantage of religion. 
 And now, my dear friend, having discovered the 
 nature of true religion, before I proceed any further, it 
 
TN THE SOUL OF MAN". 81 
 
 will not perhaps be unfit to fix our meditations a little 
 on tire excellency and advantages of it; that we may be 
 excited to the njore vigorous and diligent prosecution of 
 those methods whereby we may attain so great a feli- 
 city. But alas! what words slmll we find to express 
 that inward satisfaction, those hidden pleasures which can 
 never be rightly understood, but by those holy souls who 
 feel them? A stranger hitcrmeddleth not ivith their 
 joy. Holiness is the right temper, the vigorous and 
 healthful constitution of the soul. Its faculties had for- 
 merly been enfeebled and disordered, so that they could 
 not exercise their natural functions; it had wearied itself 
 with endless tossings and rollings, and was never able to 
 find any rest: now, that distemper being removed, it 
 feels itself well; there is a due harmony in its fiiculties, 
 and a sprightly vigour possesseth every part. The un- 
 derstanding can discern what is good, and the will can 
 cleave unto it: the affections are not tied to the mo- 
 tions of sense, and the influence of external objects; but 
 they are stirred by more divine impressions, are touched 
 by a sense of invisible things. 
 
 The excellency of divine love. 
 Let us descend, if you please, into a nearer and more 
 particular view of religion, in those several branches of 
 it which were Jiamed before. Let us consider that love 
 and affection wherewith holy souls are united to God, 
 that we may see what excellency and felicity is involved 
 in it. Love is that powerful and prevalent passion, by 
 which all the faculties and inclinations of the soul are 
 determined, and on which both its perfection and hap- 
 piness depend. The worth and excellency of a soul is 
 to be measured by the object of its love. lie who lov- 
 eth mean and sordid things, doth thereby become base 
 and vile; but a noble and well-placed affection, doth 
 advance and improve the spirit into a conformity with 
 the perfections which it loves. The images of these do 
 frequently present themselves unto the mind, and, by a 
 secret force and energy, insinuate into the very consti- 
 tution of the soul, and mould and fashion it unto their 
 
32 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 own likeness. Hence we may see how easily lovers or 
 friends do slide into the imitation of the persons whom 
 they affect, and how, even before they are aware, they 
 begin to resemble them, not only in the more consider- 
 able instances of their deportment, but also in their voice 
 and gesture, and that which we call their mein and air. 
 And certainly we should as well transcribe the virtues 
 and inward beauties of the soul, if they were the object 
 and motive of our love. But now, as all the creatures 
 we converse with have their mixture and alloy, we are 
 alwavs in hazard to be sullied and corrupted by placing 
 our affections on them. Passion doth easily blind our 
 eyes, so that we first approve, and then imitate the 
 things that are blameable in them. The true way to 
 improve and ennoble our souls, is, by fixing our love on 
 the divine perfections, that we may have them always 
 before us, and derive an impression of them on oui-selves, 
 and beholding unth open face, as in a glass, the 
 glory of the Lord, ive may be changed into the 
 same image, from glory to glory. He who with a 
 generous and holy iimbition hath raised his eyes towards 
 that uncreated beauty and goodness, and fLxed his affec- 
 tion there, is quite of another spirit, of a more excellent 
 and heroic temper than the rest of the world ; and can- 
 not but infinitely disdain all mean and unworthy things; 
 will not entertain any low or base thoughts which might 
 disparage his high and noble pretensions. Love is the 
 greatest and most excellent thing we are masters of; and 
 therefore it is folly and baseness to bestow it unworthily. 
 It is indeed the only thing we can call our own. Other 
 things may be taken from us by violence; but none can 
 ravish our love. If any thing else be counted ours, by 
 giving our love we give all, so far as we make over our 
 hearts and w^ills, by which we possess our other enjoy- 
 ments. It is not possible to refuse him any thing, to 
 whom by love we have given ourselves. Nay, since it 
 is the privilege of gifts to receive their value from the 
 mind of the giver, and not to be measured by the event, 
 but by the desire; he who loveth may in some sense be 
 said not only to bestow all that he hath, but all things 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 33 
 
 else which may make the beloved person happy, since 
 he doth heartily wish them, and would readily give them, 
 if they were in his power. In which sense it is that 
 one niakes bold to say, That divine love doth in a 
 9nanner give God unto himself, hy the complacency 
 it takes in the happiness and perfection of his na- 
 ture. But though this may seem too strained an ex- 
 pression, certainly love is the worthiest present we can 
 ofter unto God; and it is extremely debased when we be- 
 stow it another way. 
 
 When this affection is misplaced, it doth often vent 
 itself in such expressions as point at its genuine and 
 proper object, and insinuate where it ought to be placed. 
 The flattering and blasphemous terms of adoration, 
 wherein men do sometimes express their passion, are 
 the language of that affection which was made and de- 
 signed for God; as he who is accustomed to speak to 
 some great person, doth, perhaps, unawares, accost 
 another with those titles he was wont to give to him. 
 But certamly that passion which accounteth its object 
 a Deity, ought to be bestowed on him who really is so. 
 Those unlimited submissions, which would debase the 
 soul if directed to any other, will exalt and eimoble it 
 when placed here. Those chains and cords of love are 
 infinitely more glorious than liberty itself; this slavery 
 is more noble than all the empires in the world. 
 
 The advantages of divine love. 
 Again, as divine love doth advance and elevate the 
 soul, so it is that alone which can make it happy. The 
 highest and most ravishing pleasures, the most solid and 
 substantial delights, that human nature is capable of, are 
 those which arise from the endearments of a well-placed 
 and successful affection. That which imbitters love, 
 and makes it ordinarily a very troublesome and hurtful 
 passion, is the placing it on those who have not worth 
 enough to deserve it, or affection and gratitude to re- 
 quire it, or whose absence may deprive us of the plea- 
 sure of their converse, or their miseries occasion our 
 
34 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 trouble. To all these evils are they exposed, whose 
 chief and supreme affection is placed on creatures like 
 themselves: but the love of God delivers us from them 
 aH. 
 
 The U'orth of the object. 
 
 First, I say, love must needs be miserable,^ and full 
 of trouble and disquietude, when there is not worth and 
 excellency enough in the object to answer the vastness 
 of its capacity. So eager and violent a passion, cannot 
 but fret and torment the spirit, where it find;* not where- 
 with to satisfy its cravings. And, indeed, so large and un- 
 bounded is its nature, that it nnist be extremely pinched 
 and straitened, when confined to any creature; nothing 
 below^ an infinite good can afford it room to stretch itself, 
 and exert its vigour and activity. What is a little skin- 
 deep beauty, or some small degrees of goodness, to 
 match or satisfy a passion which was made for God, 
 designed to embrace an infinite good.' No wonder 
 lovers do so hardly sufter any rival, and do not desii-e 
 that others should approve their passion by iniitating 
 it. They know tlie scantiness and narrowness of the 
 good which they love, that it cannot suffice two, being 
 in effect too little for one. Hence love, which is strong 
 as death, occas'ioneth jealousy which is cruel as the 
 grave; the coals whereof are coals of fire, wrliich hath 
 a most violent flame. 
 
 13ut divine love hath no mixture of this gall; when 
 once the soul is fixed on that supreme and all-sufficient 
 good, it finds so much perfection and goodness, as doth 
 not only answer and satisfy its afiectiou, but master and 
 overpower it too: it finds all its love to be too faiut and 
 languid for such a noble object, and is only sony that 
 it can command no more. It wisheth for the flames of 
 a seraph, and longs for the time when it shall be wholly 
 melted and dissolved into love: and because it can do so 
 little itself, it desires the assistance of the whole creation, 
 that angels and men would concur with it in the admi- 
 i-alion and love of those hifinitc perfections 
 
IN THE SOUL. OF MAN. 85 
 
 The certainty to he beloved again. 
 
 Again, love is accompanied with trouble, when it 
 misseth a suitable return of affection: love is the most 
 valuable thing we can bestowj an<i by giving itj we do 
 in effect give all that we have; and therefore it needs 
 must be atilicting to find so great a gift despised, that the 
 present which one hath made of his whole heart, cannot 
 prevail to obtain any return. Perfect love is a kind of 
 self-dereliction, a wandering out of ourselves; it is a kind 
 of voluntary death, wherein the lover dies to himself, 
 and all his own interest, not thinking of them, nor car- 
 ing for them any more, and minding nothmg but how he 
 may please and gratify the party whom he loves. Thus 
 he is quite undone unless he meets with reciprocal affec- 
 tion; he neglects liimself, and the other hath no regard 
 to him; but if he be beloved, he is revived, as it were^ 
 and liveth in the soul and care of the person whom he 
 loves; and now he begins to mind his own concern- 
 ments, not so much because they are his, as because the 
 beloved is pleased to own an interest in them. He be- 
 comes dear unto himself, because he is so unto the other. 
 
 But why should I enlarge on so known a matter? 
 Nothing can be more clear, than that the happiness of 
 love depends on the return it meets with. And herein 
 the divine lover hath unspeakably the advantage, having 
 placed his affection on him w'hose nature is love ; whose 
 goodness is as infinite as his being; whose mercy preven- 
 ted us when we were his enemies, therefore cannot 
 choose but embrace us when we are become his friends. 
 It is utterly impossible that God should deny his love to 
 a soul wholly devoted to him, and which desires nothing 
 so much as to serve and please him. He cannot disdain 
 his own image, nor the heart in which it is engraven. 
 Love is all the tribute which we can pay him, and it is 
 the sacrifice which he will not despise. 
 
 The presence of the beloved person. 
 Another thing which disturbs the pleasure of love, and 
 renders it a miserable and unquiet passion, is absence 
 
56 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 and separation from those we love. It is not withoat 
 a sensible affliction that friends do part, though for some 
 little time. It is sad to be deprived of that society 
 which is so delightful; our life becomes tedious, being 
 spent in an impatient expectation of the happy hour 
 wherein we may meet again. But if death hath made 
 the separation, as sometime or other it must, this occa- 
 sions a grief scarce to be paralleled by all the niisfor- 
 tnnes of human life, and wherein we pay dear enough 
 for the comforts of our friendship. But O how happy 
 are those who have placed their love on him who can 
 never be absent from them! They need but open their 
 eyes, and they shall every where behold the traces of 
 his presence and glory, and converse with him whom 
 their soul loveth. And this makes the darkest prison, 
 or the wildest desert, not only supportable, but delight- 
 ful to them. 
 
 The divine love makes us partake of an infinite 
 happiness. 
 
 In fine, a lover is miserable if the person whom ie 
 loveth be so. They who have made an exchange of 
 hearts by love, get thereby an interest in one another's 
 happiness and misery : and this makes love a troublesome 
 passion when placed on earth. The niOst fortunate per- 
 son hath grief enough to mar the tranquillity of his friend; 
 and it is hard to hold out, when we are attacked on all 
 hands, and suffer not only in our own person but in anoth- 
 er's. But if Cod were the object of our love, we should 
 share in an infinite happiness, without any mixture or pos- 
 sibility of diminution; we should rejoice to behold the 
 glory of God, and receive comfort and pleasure from all 
 the praises wherewith men and angels do extol him. 
 It should delight us beyond all expression, to consider, 
 that the beloved of our souls is infinitely happy in him-t 
 self, and that all his enemies cannot shake or unsettle 
 his throne; that our God is in the heavens, and doth 
 whatsoever he pleaseth. 
 
 Behdd, on what sure foundations his happiness is built, 
 whose soul is possessed with di-sine love; whose will i» 
 
XN THE SOUL OF MAX. 87 
 
 transformed into the will of Cod, and whose greatest de- 
 sire is, that his maker should be pleased. O the peace, 
 the rest, the satisfaction that attendeth such a temper of 
 mind ! 
 
 He that loveth God finds sweetness in every 
 disjiensation. 
 What an infinite pleasure must it needs he, thus, as it 
 were, to lose oxirselves in him, and., being swallowed up 
 in the overcoming sense of his goodness, to offer ourselves 
 a living sacrifice, always ascending unto him in flames 
 of love! Never doth a soul know what solid joy and 
 substantial pleasure is, till, once being weary of itself, it 
 renounces all property, gives itself up to the author of 
 its being, and feels itself become a hallowed and devoted 
 thing; and can say, from an inward sense and feeling. 
 Ml/ beloved is ?nine, (I account all his interest mine 
 own) and I am his: I am content to be any thing for 
 him, and care not for myself, but that I may serve him. 
 A person moulded into this temper, would find pleasure 
 in all the dispensations of providence. Temporal enjoy- 
 ments would ha\e another relish, when he should taste 
 the divine goodness in them, and consider them as tokens 
 of love sent by his dearest Lord and master. And chas- 
 tisements, though they be not joyous but grievous, 
 would hereby lose their sting: the rod as well aslhe staff 
 would comfort him: he would snatch a kiss from the 
 hand that was sn)iting him, and gather sweetness from 
 that severity. Nay, he would rejoice, that though God 
 did not the will of such a worthless and foolish creature 
 as himself, yet he did his own will, and accomplished 
 his own designs, which are infinitely more holy and 
 wise. 
 
 The duties of Religion are delightful to him. 
 The exercises of religion, which to others are insipid 
 and tedious, do yield the highest pleasure and delight to 
 souls possessed with divine love. Thev rejoice when 
 they are called to go up to the house of the Lord, 
 that they may see his povjer and his glory, as they 
 4l 
 
38 THE LIFE OF COD 
 
 have formerly seen it in his sanctuary. They never 
 think themselves so happy as when, having retired from 
 the world, and gotten free from the noise and hurry of 
 affairs, and silenced all their clamorous passions, (those 
 troublesome guests within,) they have placed themselves 
 in the presence of God, and entertain fellowship and 
 communion with him. They delight to adore his per- 
 fections, and recount his favours, and to protest their 
 affection to him, and tell him a thousand times that they 
 love him; to lay out their troubles or wants before him, 
 and disburden their hearts in his bosom. Repentance 
 itself is a delightful exercise, when it floweth from the 
 principle of love: there is a secret sweetness w^hich ac- 
 companieth those tears of remorse, those meltings and 
 relentings of a soul returning unto God, and lamenting 
 its former unkindness. 
 
 The severities of a holy life, and that constant watch 
 which we are obliged to keep over our hearts and ways, 
 are very troublesome to those who are overruled and 
 acted by an external law, and have no law in their 
 minds inclining them to the performance of their duty. 
 But where divine love possesseth the soul, it stands as 
 sentinel to keep out every thing that may offend the be^ 
 loved, and doth disdainfully repulse those temptations 
 which assault it. It complieth cheerfully, not only with 
 explicit commands, but with the most secret notices of 
 the beloved's pleasure; and is ingenious in discovering 
 what will be most grateful and acceptable unto him. 
 It makes mortification and self-denial change their harsh 
 and dreadful names, and become easy, sweet and de- 
 lightful things. 
 
 But I find this part of my letter swell bigger than I 
 designed: indeed who would not be tempted to dwell 
 on so pleasant a theme? I shall endeavour to compensate 
 it by brevity in the other points. 
 
 The excellency of charity. 
 The next branch of the divine life is an universal charity 
 and love. The excellency of this grace will be easily 
 acknowledged. For what can be more noble and gener- 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN". 39 
 
 ous than a heart enlarged to embrace the whole world, 
 whose wishes and designs are levelled at the good and 
 welfare of the universe, which considereth every man's 
 interest as its own? He who loveth his neighbour as 
 himself can never entertain any base or injurious thought, 
 or be wanting in expressions of bounty: he had rather 
 suffer a thousand wrongs, than be guilty of one; and 
 never accounts himself happy, but when some one or 
 other hath been benefited by him. The malice or in- 
 gratitude of men is not able to resist his love: he over- 
 looks their injuries, and pities their folly, and overcomes 
 their evil with good; and never designs any other revenge 
 against his most bitter and malicious enemies, than to 
 put all the obligations he can upon them, whether they 
 will or not. Is it any wonder that such a person be re- 
 verenced and admired, and accounted the darling of 
 mankind? This inward goodness and benignity of spirit 
 reflects a certain sweetness and serenity upon the very 
 countenance, and makes it amiable and lovely. It in- 
 spireth the soul with a noble resolution and courage, and 
 makes it capable of enterprising and effecting the high- 
 est things. Those heroic actions which we are wont 
 to read with admiration, have for the most part been 
 the effects of the love of one's country, or of particular 
 friendships; and certainly a more extensive and universal 
 affection must be much more powerful and efficacious. 
 
 The pleasure that attends charity. 
 Again, as charity flows from a noble and excellent 
 temper, so it is accompanied with the greatest satisfac- 
 tion and pleasure. It delights the soul to feel itself thus 
 enlarged, and to bo delivered from those disquieting as 
 well as deformed passions, malice, hatred, and envy; 
 and become gentle, sweet, and benign. Had I my 
 choice of all things that might tend to my present felic- 
 ity, I would pitch upon this, to have my heart pos- 
 sessed with the greatest kindness and affection towards 
 all men in the world, I am sure this would make me 
 partake in all the happiness of others; their inward en- 
 dowments, and outward prosperity: every thing that did 
 
40 TKE LIFE or GOD 
 
 benefit and udvantage them, would afford me comfort 
 and pleasure. And though I should frequently meet 
 with occasions of grief and compassion, yet there is a 
 sweetness in connniseration, which makes it infinitely 
 more desirable than a stupid insensibility: and the con- 
 sideration of that infinite goodness and wisdom which 
 governs the world, might repress any excessive trouble 
 for particular calamities that happen in it: and the hopes 
 or possibility of men's after-happiness, might moderate 
 their sorrow for their present misfortunes. Certainly, 
 next to the love and enjoyment of God, that ardent 
 charity and affection wherewith blessed souls do embrace 
 one another, is justly to be reckoned as the greatest fe- 
 licity of those regions above: and did it universally pre- 
 vail in the world, it would anticipate that blessedness, 
 and make us taste of the joys of heaven upon earth. 
 
 The excellency of purity. ' 
 That which I named as a third branch of religion, was 
 purity: and you may remember I described it to consist 
 in a contempt of sensual pleasures, and resoluteness to 
 undergo those troubles and pains we may meet with in 
 the performance of our duty. Now, the naming of this 
 may suffice to recommend it as a most noble and excel- 
 lent quality. There is no slavery so base, as that 
 whereby a man becomes a dmdge to his own lusts; nor 
 any victory so glorious, as that which is obtained over 
 them. Never can that person be capable of any thing 
 that is noble and worthy, who is sunk in the gross and 
 feculent pleasures of sense, or bewitched with the light 
 and airy gratifications of fancy. But the leligious soul 
 is of a more sublime and divine temper; it knows it was 
 made for higher things, and scorns to step aside one 
 foot out of the way of holiness, for the obtaining any 
 of these. 
 
 The delight afforded by pimty. 
 And this purity is accompanied with a great deal of 
 pleasure: whatsoever defiles the soul disturbs it too; all 
 impure delights have a sting in them, and leave smart 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN". 41 
 
 Mnd trouble behind them. Excess and intemperance, 
 >tnd all inordinate lusts, are so much enemies to the 
 health of the body, and the interests of this present life, 
 that a little consideration might oblige any rational man 
 to forbear them on that very score: and if the religious 
 person go higher, and do not only abstain from noxious 
 pleasures, but neglect those that are innocent, this is 
 not to be looked upon as any violent and uneasy re- 
 straint, but as the effect of better choice, that their 
 minds are taken up in the pursuit of more sublime and re- 
 fined delights, so that they cannot be concerned in these. 
 Any person that is engaged in a violent and passionate 
 affection, will easily forget his ordinary gratifications, 
 will be little curious about his diet, or his bodi-ly ease, 
 or the divertisements he was wont to delight in. No 
 wonder then if souls overpowered with divine love, des- 
 pise inferior pleasures, and be almost ready to grudge 
 the body its necessary attendance for the common ac- 
 commodations of life, judging all these impertinent to 
 their main happiness, and those higher enjoyments they 
 are pursuing. As for the hardships they meet with, 
 they rejoice in them, as opportunities to exercise and 
 testify their affection: and since they are able to do so lit- 
 tle for God, thoy are glad of the honour to suffer for liim. 
 
 The excellency ofhumility. 
 The last branch of religion is humility; and how- 
 ever to vulgar and carnal eyes this may appear an ab- 
 ject, base, and despicable quality, yet really the soul 
 of man is not capable of a higher and more noble en- 
 dowment. It is a silly ignorance that begets pride: 
 but humility arises from a nearer acquaintance with 
 excellent things, which keeps men from doating on 
 trifles, or admiring themselves" because of some pretty 
 attainments. Noble and well educated souls have 
 no such high opinion of riches, beauty, strength, and 
 other such like advantages, as to value themselves 
 for thern, or despise those that want them: and as 
 for inward worth and real goodness, the sense they 
 have of the divine perfections makes them think very 
 4* 
 
42 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 meanly of any thing they have hitherto attained, and 
 be still endeavouring to surmount themselves, and 
 make nearer approaches to those inliuite excellencies 
 which they admire. 
 
 I know not what thoughts people may have of hu- 
 mility, but I see almost every person pretending to 
 it, and shunning such expressions and actions as may 
 make them be accounted arrogant and presumptuous; 
 so that those who are most desirous of praise, will be 
 loth to conmiend themselves. What are all those com- 
 pliments and modes of civilitj', so frequent in our ordin- 
 ary converse, but so many protestations of the esteem 
 of others, and the low thoughts we have of ourselves; 
 and must not that humility be a noble and excellent en- 
 dowment, when the very shadows of it are accounted 
 so necessary a part of good breeding? 
 
 The pleasure and sioeetness of an hiimhJe temper. 
 Again, this grace, is accompanied with a great deal 
 of happiness and tranquillity: the proud and arrogant 
 person is a trouble to ail that converse with him, but 
 most of all unto himself; every thing is enough to vex 
 him; but scarce any thing is sufficient to content and 
 please him. He is ready to quarrel with every thing 
 that falls out, as if he himself were such a considerable 
 person, that God Almighty should do every thing to 
 gratify him, and all the creatures of heaven and earth 
 should wait upon him, and obey his will. The leaves 
 of high trees do shake with every blast of wind: and 
 every breath, ever)' evil word will disquiet and torment 
 an arrogant man: but the humble person hath the ad- 
 vantage when he is despised, that none can think more 
 meanly of him than he doth of liimself ; and therefore 
 he is not troubled at the matter, but can easily bear 
 those reproaches which wound the other to the soul. 
 And withal, as he is less affected with injuries, so in- 
 deed he is less obnoxious unto them: contention, ichich 
 Cometh of pride, betrays a man into a thousand incon- 
 veniences, which those of a meek and lowly temper 
 seldom meet with. True and genuine humility b^et- 
 
IS THE SOUL OF MAN. 43 
 
 teth both a veuenation and love among all wise and dis- 
 cerning persons; while pride defeateth its own design, 
 and depriveth a man of that honour it makes him pre- 
 tend to. 
 
 But as the chief exercises of humility are those which 
 relate unto Almighty God, so these are accompanied 
 with the greatest satisfaction and sweetness. It is im- 
 possible to e?-:press the great pleasure and delight which 
 religious persons feel in the lowest prostration of their 
 souls before God, when, having a deep sense of the di- 
 vine majesty and glory, they sink (if I may so speak) 
 to the bottom of their beings, and vanish and disappear 
 in the presence of God, by a serious and affectionate 
 acknowledgment of their own nothingness, and the short- 
 ness and imperfections of their attainments; when they 
 understand the full sense and emphasis of the Psalm- 
 ist's exclamation, Lord, ivhat is inan! and can utter 
 it with the same affection. Never did any haughty and 
 ambitious person receive the praises and applauses of 
 men with so much pleasure, as the humble and reli- 
 gious do renounce them: A^ot nnto us, O Lord, not 
 unto lis, but unto thy name, give ^'ory, Sfc. 
 
 Thus have I spoken something of the excellencies and 
 advantage of religion in its several branches; but should 
 be very injurious to the subject, did I pretend to have 
 given any perfect account of it. Let us acquaint our- 
 selves with it, my dear friend; let us acquaint ourselves 
 with it, and experience will teach us more than all that 
 ever hath been spoken or written concerning it. But if 
 we may suppose the soul to be already awakened unto 
 some longing desires after so great a blessedness, it will 
 be good to give them vent and suff^er them to issue forth 
 in some such aspirations as these: 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 ' Good God! what a mighty felicity is this to which 
 we are called! How graciously hast thou joined our duty 
 and happiness together; and prescribed that for our work, 
 the performance whereof is a great rev/ard! And shall 
 ?ijcb silly worms be advanced to so great a height? Wilt 
 
44 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 thou allow us to raise our eyes to thee? Wilt thou admit 
 and accept our affection? Shall we receive the impression 
 of thy divine excellencies, by beholding and admiring 
 them, and partake of thy infinite blessedness and glory, by 
 loving thee, and rejoicing in them? O the happiness of 
 those souls that have broken the fetters of self-love, and 
 disentangled their affection from every narrow and par- 
 ticular good; whose understandings are enlightened by 
 the Holy Spirit, and their wills enlarged to the extent 
 of thine; who love thee above all things, and all man- 
 kind for thy sake! I am persuaded, O God! I am per- 
 suaded, that I can never be happy, till my carnal and 
 corrupt affections be mortified, and the pride and vanity 
 of my spirit be subdued, and till I come seriously to de- 
 spise the world, and think nothing of myself But O 
 when shall it once be! O when wilt thou come unto me, 
 and satisfy my soul with thy likeness, making me holy 
 as thou art holy, even in all manner of conversation! 
 Hast thou given me a prospect of so great a felicity, 
 and wilt thou not bring me unto it? Hast thou excited 
 these desires in my soul, and wilt thou not also satisfy 
 them? O teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God; 
 thy spirit is good, lead me unto the land of uprightness. 
 Quicken me, O Lord, for thy name's sake, and perfect 
 that which concerneth me. Thy mercy, O Lord, en- 
 dureth for ever; forsake not the work of thine own 
 hands.' 
 
 The despondent thoughts of some newly aivakened 
 to a right sense of things. 
 I HAVE hitherto considered wherein true religion 
 doth consist, and how desirable a thing it is. But when 
 one sees how infinitely distant the common temper and 
 frame of men are from it, he may perhaps be ready to 
 despond and give over, and think it utterly impossible 
 to be attained. He may sit down in sadness, and be- 
 moan hiuieelf, and say, in the anguish and bitterness of 
 his spirit, " They are happy indeed whose semis are 
 
IN THE SOUL, OF MAK. 45 
 
 awakened unto the divine life, who are thus renewed in 
 the spirit of their minds. But, alas! I am quite of 
 anotlier constit/iition, and am not able to eft'ect so migh- 
 ty a change. If outward observances could have done 
 the business, I might have hoped to acquit myself by 
 diligence and care: but since nothing but a new nature 
 can serve the turn, what am I able to do ? I could be- 
 stow all my goods in oblations to God, or ahns to the 
 poor; but cannot command that love and charity, with- 
 out which this expense would profit me nothing. This 
 gift of Cod cannot be purchased with money. If a man 
 should give all tlie substance of his house for love, it 
 would utterly be contemned. I could pine and macerate 
 my body, and undergo many hardships and trouble? ; but 
 I cannot get all my corruptions starved, nor my affections 
 wholly weaned from earthly things: there are still some 
 worldly desires lurking in my heart; and those vanities 
 that I have shut out of the doors, are always getting in 
 by the windows. I am many times convinced of my 
 own meanness, of the weakness of my body, and the 
 far greater weakness of my soul; but this doth rather 
 beget indignation and discontent, than true humility in 
 my spirit: and though I should come to think meanly of 
 myself, yet I cannot endure that others should think so 
 too. In a word, when I reflect on my highest and most 
 specious attainments, I have reason to suspect, that they 
 are all but the effects of nature, the issues of self-love 
 acting under several disguises: and this principle is so 
 powerful and so deeply rooted in me, that I can never 
 hope to be delivered from the dominion of it. I may 
 toss and turn as a door on the hinges; but can never get 
 clear off, or be quite unhinged of self, which is still the 
 centre of all my motions. So that all the advantage I 
 can draw from the discovery of religion, is but to see 
 at a huge distance that felicity which I am not able to 
 reach; like a man in a shipwreck, who discerns the 
 land, and envies the happiness of those who are there, 
 but thinks it impossible for himself to get ashore " 
 
46 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 The unreasonableness of these fears. 
 These, I say, or such like desponding thouglits, may 
 arise in the minds of those persons who begin to conceive 
 somewhat more of the nature and excellency of religion 
 than before. They have spied the land, and seen that 
 it is exceeding good ; that it floweth with milk and hon- 
 ey; but they find they have the children of Anak to 
 grapple with; many poweiful lusts and corruptions to 
 overcome, and they fear they shall never prevail against 
 them. But why should we give way to such discour- 
 aging suggestions? why should we entertain such unrea- 
 sonable fears, which damp our spirits, and weaken our 
 hands, and augment the difficulties of our way? Let us 
 encourage ourselves, my dear friend, let us encourage 
 ourselves with those mighty aids we are to expect in 
 this spiritual warfare; for greater is he that is for us, than 
 all that can rise up against us: The eternal God is our 
 refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms. 
 Let us be strong in the Lord, and in thepoioer of his 
 might; for he it is that shall tread down our ene- 
 mies. God hath a tender regard unto the souls of men, 
 and is infinitely willing to promote their welfare. He 
 liath condescended to our weakness, and declared with 
 an oath, that he hath no pleasure in our destruction. 
 There is no such thing as despite or envy lodged in the 
 bosom of that ever blessed being, whose name and na- 
 ture is love. He created us at first in a happy condi- 
 tion; and now, when we are fallen from it, he hath 
 laid help upon one that is mighty to save, hath com- 
 mitted the care of our souls to no meaner person than 
 the eternal Son of his love. It is he that is the Captain 
 of our salvation; and what enemies can be too strong 
 for us, when we are fighting under his banner? Did not 
 the Son of God come down from the bosom of his Fa- 
 ther, and pitch his tabernacle amongst the sons of men, 
 that he might recover and propagate the divine life, and 
 restore the image of God in their souls? All the mighty 
 works which he performed; all the sad aftlictions which 
 he sustained, had this for their scope and design; for this 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN 47 
 
 did he labour and toil; for this did he bleed and die: 
 Hath he wrought no deliverance in the earth? 
 Shall he not see the travail of his soul? Certainly it 
 is impossible that this great contrivance of heaven should 
 prove abortive, that such a mighty undertaking should 
 fail and miscarry. It hath already been effectual for the 
 salvation of many thousands, who were once as far from 
 the kingdom of heaven as we can suppose ourselves to 
 be; and our High Priest continueth for ever, and is 
 able to save them to the uttermost that come unto 
 God by him. He is tender and compassionate; he 
 knoweth our infirmities, and had experience of our temp- 
 tations: A bruised reed will he not break, and smok- 
 ing flax will he not quench, till he send forth judg- 
 ment unto victory. He hath sent out his Holy Spirit, 
 whose sweet, but powerful breathings are still moving 
 up and down in the world, to quicken and revive the 
 souls of men, and awaken them unto the sense and feel- 
 ing of those divine things for which they were made; 
 and is ready to assist such weak and languishing crea- 
 tures as we are, in our essays towards holiness and felic- 
 ity; and when once it hath taken hold of a soul, and 
 kindled in it the smallest spark of divine love, it will be 
 sure to preserve and cherish, and bring it forth into a 
 jfianie, which many waters shall not quench, neither 
 shall the floods be able to drown it. Whenever this 
 day begins to dawn, and the day-star to arise in the 
 heart, it will easily dispel the powers of darkness, and 
 make ignorance and folly, and all the corrupt and sel- 
 fish affections of men, flee away as fast before it as the 
 shades of night when the sun cometh out of his cham- 
 bers: for the path of the just is as the shining light, 
 tuhich shineth more and more unto the perfect day. 
 They shall go on from strength to strength, till 
 every one of them appear before God in Zion. 
 
 Why should we think it impossible, that true good- 
 ness and universal love should ever come to sway and 
 prevail in our souls? Is not this their pri;nitive state and 
 condition; their native and genuine constitution as they 
 came first from the hands of their n;aker? Sin and cor- 
 
48 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 ruption are but usurpers; and though they have long 
 kept the possession, yet /ro7?i the beginning it was 
 not so. '1 hat jiioidiuate self-love which one would think 
 were rooted in our very being, and interwoven with the 
 constitution of" our nature, is nevertheless of foreign ex- 
 traction, and had no place at all in the state of integrity. 
 We have still so much reason left as to condemn it. 
 Our understandings are easily convinced, that we ought 
 to be v» holly devoted to him from whom we have our 
 being, and to love him infinitely more than ourselves, 
 who is intinitely better than we; and our wills would 
 readily comply with this, if they were not disordered 
 and put out of tune. And is not he who made our souls, 
 able to rectify and mend them again? bhall we not be 
 able, by his assistance, to vanquish and expel those vio- 
 lent intruders, and turn to flight the armies of the 
 aliens ? 
 
 IVo sooner shall we take up arms in this holy war, 
 but we shall have all the saints on earth, and all the an- 
 gels in heaven engaged on our party. '1 he holy church 
 throughout the world is daily interceding with God for 
 the success of all such endeavours. And doubtless those 
 lieavenly hosts above are nearly concerned in the inter- 
 ests of religion, and infinitely desirous to see the divhie 
 life thriving and prevailmg in this hiferior world; and 
 that the wnl of God may be done by us on earth, as it 
 is done by themselves in heaven. And may we not then 
 encourage ourselves, as the prophet did his servant, when 
 he showed hitn the horses and chariots of fire, Fear 
 not, for they that be with us, are more than they 
 that be against us. 
 
 We must do what we can, and depend on the 
 divine assistance. 
 
 Away then with all perplexing fears and desponding 
 thoughts. To undertake vigorously, and rely confident- 
 ly on the divine assistance, is inore than half the con- 
 quest. Let us arise, and be doing, and the Lord 
 will be with us. It is true, religion in the souls of 
 men is the immediate work of God; and all our natural 
 
IN THE SOU'L. OF MAN. 49 
 
 endeavours can neither produce it alone, nor merit those 
 supernatural aids by which it must be wrought: the Ho- 
 ly Uhost must come upon us, and the power of the 
 highest niust overshadow us, before that holy thing can 
 be forgotten, and Christ be formed in us. JBut yet w'O 
 must not expect that this whole wosk should be done 
 without any concurring endeavours of our own: we must 
 not lie loitering in the ditch, and wait till Omnipotence 
 pull us from thence. iNo, no: we must bestir ourselves, 
 and actuate those powers which we have already re- 
 ceived: we must put forth ourselves to our utmost ca- 
 pacities, and tl>en we may hope that our labour shall 
 not he in vain in the Lord. All the art and industry 
 of man cannot form the smallest herb, or make a stalk 
 of corn to grow in the held: it is the energy of nature, 
 and the influences of heaven, which produce this etiect; 
 it is ,God who causes the grass to groiv, and herb 
 for the service of man: and yet nobody will say, that 
 the labours of the husbandman are useless or unneces- 
 sary. So likewise tl>e human soul is immediately cre- 
 ated by God; it is he who both form^elh and enliveneth the 
 child: and yet he hath appointed the marriage-bed as 
 the ordinary means for the propagation of mankind. 
 Though there must intervene a stroke of onmipotence 
 to etiect this mighty change in our souls, yet ought we 
 to do what we can to fit and pr.e-pare ourselves. For 
 we must break up our fallow ground, and roct out the 
 weeds, and pull up the thorns, that so we may be more 
 ready to receive the seeds of grace, and the dew of 
 heaven. It is tnie, God hath been found of some who 
 sought him not; he hath cast himself in their way, who 
 were quite out of his; he hath laid hold upon them, 
 and stopped their course of a suddea: for so was St. Paul 
 converted in his journey to Damascus. But certainly 
 this is not God's ordinary method of dealing with men. 
 Though he hath not tied himself to means, yet he hath 
 tied us to tl>e use of them; and we have never more rea- 
 son to expect the divine assistance, than when we are 
 doing our utmost endeavours. It shall therefore be my 
 next work, to show wliat course we ought to take for 
 6 
 
60 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 attaining that blessed temper I have hitherto described. 
 But here, if, in dehvering my own thoughts, I shall 
 chance to differ from what is or may be said by others 
 in this matter, I would not be thought to contradict and 
 oppose them, more than physicians do, when they 
 prescribe several remedies for the same disease, which 
 perhaps are all useful and good. Every one may pro- 
 pose the method he judges most proper and convenient; 
 but he doth not thereby pretend tliat the cure can nev- 
 er be etfected, unless that be exactly observed. I doubt 
 it hath occasioned much unnecessary disquietude to 
 Fome lioly persons, that they have not found such a reg- 
 ular and orderly transaction ui their souls, as they have 
 seen described in books: that they have not passed 
 through all those steps and stages of conversion, which 
 some (who perhaps have felt them in themselves) have 
 too peremptorily prescribed unto others. God hath sev- 
 eral ways of dealing with the souls of men; and it suffi- 
 ceth if the work be accomplished, whatever the meth- 
 ods have been. 
 
 Again, though, in proposing directions, I must follow 
 that order which the nature of things shall lead to; yet 
 I do not mean that the same method should be so punc- 
 tually observed in the practice, as if the latter rules were 
 never to be heeded, till some considerable time have 
 been spent in practiising the former. The directions I 
 intend are mutually conducive one to another; and are 
 all to be performed as occasion shall serve, and we find 
 ourselves enabled to perform them. 
 
 JVe must shun all manner of sin. 
 But now, that I may detain you no longer, if we desire 
 to have our souls moulded to this holy frame, to become 
 partakers of the divine nature, and have Christ formed 
 in our hearts, we must seriously resolve, and carefully 
 endeavour to avoid and abandon all vicious and sinful 
 practices. There can be no treaty of peace, till once 
 we lay down these weapons of rebellion wherewith we 
 tight against heaven: nor can we expect to have our dis- 
 tempers cured, if we be daily feeding on poison. Every 
 
 ^ 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 61 
 
 wilful sin gives a mortal wound to the soul, and puts it 
 at a greater distance from God and goodness: and we 
 can never hope to have our hearts purified from corrupt 
 affections, unless we cleanse our hands from vicious ac- 
 tions. Now, in this case, we cannot excuse ourselves by 
 the pretence of impossibility; for sure our outward man 
 i« some way in our power; we have some command of 
 our feet, and hands, and tongue, nay, and of our thoughts 
 and fancies too ; at least so far as to divert them from 
 impure and shiful objects, and to turn our mind another 
 way: and we should find this power and authority much 
 strengthened and advanced, if we were careful to man- 
 age and exercise it. In the mean while, I acknowledge 
 our corruptions are so strong, and our temptations so 
 many, that it will require a great deal of stedfastness and 
 resolution, of watchfulness and care, to preserve our- 
 selves, even in this degree of innocence and purity. 
 
 We must know what things are sinful. 
 And, first, let us inform ourselves well, what those 
 sins are from which we ought to abstain. And here we 
 must not take our measures fiom the maxims of the 
 world, or the practices of those whom in charity we ac- 
 count good men. Most people have very light appre- 
 hensions of these things, and are not sensible of any 
 fauh, unless it be gross and flagitious; and scarce reckon 
 any so great as that which they call preciseness: and 
 those who are more serious, do many times allow them- 
 selves too great latitude and freedom". Alas! how much 
 pride and vanity, and passion and humour; how much 
 weakness, folly, and sin, doth every day show itself in 
 their converse and behaviour. It may be they are hum- 
 bled for it, and striving against it, and are daily gaining 
 some ground; but then the progress is so small, and their 
 failings so many, that we have need to choose an exa^cter 
 pattern. Every one of us must answer for himself, and 
 the practices of others will never wan-ant and secure us. 
 It is the highest folly to regulate our actions by any 
 other standard than that by which they must be judged. 
 
52 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 If ever we would cleanse our loay, it must be hy tak' 
 ing heed thereunto according to the word of God. 
 And that word which is quick and powerful, and 
 sharper tha7i any two-edged sword, piercing even 
 to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of 
 the joints and tnarrow, and is a discerner of the 
 thoughts and intents of the heart, will certainly dis- 
 cover many things to be sinful and heinous, which pass 
 for very Innocent in the eyes of the world: let us there- 
 fore imitate the Psalmist, who saith. Concerning the 
 works of men, by the words of thy lips, I have kept 
 myself from the paths of the destroyer. Let us 
 acquaint ourselves with the strict and holy laws of 
 our religion; let us consider the discourses of our blessed 
 Saviour, (especially that divine sermon on the mount,) 
 and the writings of his holy apostles, where an ingenious 
 and unbiassed mind may clearly discern those limits and 
 bounds by which our actions ought to be confined. And 
 then let us never look upon any sin as light and incon- 
 siderable; but be fully persuaded that the smallest is in- 
 finitely heinous in the sight of God, and prejudicial to 
 the souls of men; and that, if we had a right sense of 
 things, we should be as deeply affected with the least 
 irregularities, as now we are with the highest crinjes. 
 
 We must resist the temptations of sin, hy consider- 
 ing the evils they will draw on us. 
 But now, amongst those things which we discover to 
 be sinful, there will be some, unto which, through the 
 disposition of our nature, or long custom, or the endear- 
 ments of pleasure, we are so much wedded, that it will 
 be like cutting off the right hand, or pulling out the right 
 eye, to abandon them. But nmst we therefore sit down 
 and wait till all ditficulties are over, and every tempta- 
 tion be gone? This were to imitate the fool in the poet, 
 who stood the whole day at the river side, till all the wa- 
 ters should run by. AVe must not indulge our inclina- 
 tions, as we do little children, till they grow weary of the 
 thing they are unwilling to let go; we must not continue 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN, 53 
 
 our sinful practices, in hopes that the divine grace will 
 one day overpower our spirits, and make us hate them 
 for their own deformity. 
 
 Let us suppose the worst, that we are utterly destitute 
 of any supernatural principle, and want that taste by 
 which we should discern and abhor perverse things: yet 
 sure we are capable of some considerations which may 
 be of force to persuade us to this reformation of our lives. 
 If the ijiward deformity and heinous nature of sin can- 
 not aftect us, at least we may be frighted by those dread- 
 ful consequences that attend it: that same selfish princi- 
 ple which pusheth us forward unto the pursuit of. sinful 
 pleasures, will make us loth to buy them at the rate of 
 everlasting misery. Thus we may encounter self-love 
 with its own weapons, and employ one natural inclina- 
 tion for repressing the exorbitances of another. Let us 
 therefore accustom ourselves to consider seriously, what 
 a fearful thing it must needs be to irritate and offend that 
 infinite Being, on whom we hang and depend every mo- 
 ment; who needs but to withdraw his mercies to make 
 us miserable, or his assistance to make us nothing. Let 
 us frequently remember the shortness and uncertainty of . 
 our lives, and how that, after we have taken a few turns 
 more in the world, and convei-sed a little longer amongst 
 men, we must all go down into the dark and silent grave, 
 and carry nothing along with us but anguish and regret 
 for all our sinful enjoyments; and then think what hor- 
 ror must needs seize the guilty soul, to find itself naked 
 and all alone before the severe and impartial judge of 
 the world, to render an exact account, not only of its 
 more important and considerable transactions, but of 
 every word that the tongue hath uttered, and the swift- 
 est and most secret thought that ever passed through 
 the mind. Let us sometimes represent unto ourselves 
 the terrors of that dreadful day, when the foundations 
 of the earth shall be shaken, and the heavens shall pass 
 avvay with a great noise, and the elements shall melt 
 with fervent heat, and the present frame of nature be 
 dissolved, and our eyes shall see the blessed Josus 
 (who came once into the world in all humility to 
 5* 
 
64 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 visit us, to purchase pardon for us, and beseech us to 
 accept of it) now appearing in the majesty of his glory, 
 and descending from heaven in flaming fire, to take ven- 
 geance on those that have despised his mercy, and per- 
 sisted in rebellion against him: when all the hidden 
 things of darkness sliall be brought to light, and the 
 counsels of the heart shall be made manifest: when 
 those secret impurities and subtle frauds whereof the 
 world did never suspect us, shall be exposed and laid 
 open to public view, and many thousand actions which 
 we never dreamed to be sinful, or else had altogether for- 
 gotten, shall be charged home to our consciences, with 
 such evident convictions of guilt, that we shall neither be 
 able to deny nor excuse them. Then shall the angels in 
 heaven, and all the saints that ever lived on the earth, 
 approve that dreadful sentence which shall be passed 
 on wicked njen: and those who perhaps did love and 
 esteem them when they lived in the world, shall look 
 upon them with indignation and abhorrence, and never 
 make one request for their deliverance. Let us consid- 
 er the eternal punishment of damned souls, which are 
 shadowed forth in scripture by metaphors taken from 
 those things that are most terrible and grievous in the 
 world, and yet all do not sulHce to convey unto our 
 minds any full apprehensions of them. When we have 
 joined together the importance of all these expressions, 
 and added unto them whatever our fancy can conceive 
 of misery and torment, v.e must still remember, that all 
 this comes inlinitely short of the truth and reality of the 
 thing. 
 
 It is true, this is a sad and melancholy subject; there 
 is anguish and horror in the consideration of it; but sure 
 it must be infinitely more dreadful to endure it: and such 
 thoughts as these may be very useful to fright us from 
 the courses that would lead us thither; how fond soever 
 we may be of sinful pleasures, the fear of hell would 
 make us abstain: our most forward inclin<itions will star- 
 tle and give back, when pressed with that question in 
 the prophet. Who among us can dwell with ever- 
 lasting burnings? 
 
 :M 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 55 
 
 To this very purpose it is, that the terrors of another 
 world are so frequently represented in holy writ, and 
 that in such terms as are most proper to affect and in- 
 fluence a carnal mind: these fears can never suffice to 
 make any person tnily good, but certainly they may 
 restrain us from much evil, and have often made way 
 for more ingenuous and kindly impressions. 
 
 We must keep a constant ivatch over ourselves. 
 Put it will not suffice to consider these things once and 
 agai'.i, norto form some resolutions of abandoning our 
 sirs, unless we maintain a constant guard, and be conti)iu- 
 ally watching against them. Sometiines the mind is 
 awakened to see the dismal consequences of a vicious 
 life, and straight we are resolved to reform: but, alas! it 
 presently falleth asleep, and we lose that prospect which 
 we had of things, and then temptations take the advan- 
 tage; they solicit and importune us continually, and so 
 do frequently engage our consent before we are aware. 
 It is the folly and ruin of most people to live at adven- 
 ture, and take part in every thing that comes in their 
 way, seldom considering what they are about to say or 
 do. If we would have our resolutions take effect, we 
 must take heed unto our ways, and set a watch before 
 the door of our lips, and examine the motions that arise 
 in our hearts, and cause them to tell us whence they 
 come, and whither they go; whether it be pride or pas- 
 sion, or any corrapt and vicious humour, that prompteth 
 us to any design; and whether Cod will be offended, or 
 any body harmed by it. And if we have no time for 
 long reasonings, let us at least turn our eyes toward 
 God, and place ourselves in his presence, to ask his 
 leave and approbation for what we do: let us consider 
 ourselves under the all-seeing eye of that divine i\fa- 
 jestv, as in the midst of an infinite globe of light, which 
 compasseth us about both behind and before, and pier- 
 ceth to the innermost corners of our soul. The sense 
 and remembrance of the divine presence is the most 
 ready and effectual means, both to discover what is un- 
 lawful, and to restrain us from it. There are. some 
 
5fr THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 things a person could make shift to palliate or defend, 
 and yet he dares not look ahnighty God in the face, 
 and adventure upon them. If we look unto him, we 
 shall be lightened; if we set him always before us, 
 he will guide us by his eye, and instruct us in the 
 way wherein we ought to walk. 
 
 We must often examine our actions. 
 This care and watchfulness over our actions, must be 
 seconded by frequent and serious reflections upon them, 
 not only that we may obtain the divine mercy and par- 
 don for our sins, by an humble and sorrowful acknow- 
 ledgement of them; but also that we may re-enforce and 
 strengthen our resolutions, and learn to decline or resist 
 the temptations by which we have been formerly foiled. 
 It is an advice worthy of a Christian, though it did first 
 drop from a heathen pen, " That before we betake 
 ourselves to rest, we renew and examine all the passa- 
 ges of the day, that we may have the comfort of what 
 we have done aright, and may redress what we find to 
 have been amiss, and make the shipwrecks of one day 
 be as marks to direct our course in another." This may 
 be called the very art of virtuous living, and would con- 
 tribute wonderfully to advance our reformation, and 
 preserve our innocency. But, withal, we must not for- 
 get to implore the divine assistance, especially against 
 those sins that do most easily beset us: and though it be 
 supposed that our hearts are not yet moulded into that 
 spiritual frame which should render our devotions ac- 
 ceptable, yet, methinks, such considerations as have been 
 proposed to deter us from sin, may also stir us up to 
 some natural seriousness, and make our prayers against 
 it as earnest, at least, as they are wont to be against 
 other calamities: and I doubt not but God, who heareth 
 the cry of the ravens, will have some regard even to 
 such petitions as proceed from those natural passions 
 which himself hath implanted in us. Besides, that those 
 pravers against sin, will be powerful engagements on 
 ourselves to excite us to watchfulness and care; and 
 commoti ingenuity will make us ashamed to relapse into 
 
IN THE SOUL. OF MAN. 67 
 
 those faults, which we have lately bewailed before God, 
 and against which we have begged his assistance. 
 
 It is fit to restrain ourselves in many lawful things. 
 Thus are wc to make the first essay for recovering 
 the divine life, by restraining the natural inclinations, 
 that they break not out into sinful practices: but now I 
 must add, that Christian prudence will teach us to ab- 
 stain fiom gratifications that are not simply unlawful, 
 and that not only that we may secure our innocence, 
 which would be in continual hazard if we should strain 
 our liberty to the utmost point; but also, that hereby we 
 may weaken the forces of nature, and teach our appe- 
 tites to obey. We must do with ourselves as prudent 
 parents with their children, who cross their wills in 
 many little indifferent things, to make them manageable 
 and submissive in more considerable instances. He who 
 would mortify the pride and vanity of his spirit, should 
 stop his ears to the most deserved praises; and sometimes 
 forbear his just vindication from the censures and asper- 
 sions of others, especially if they reflect only upon his 
 prudence and conduct, and not on his virtue and inno- 
 cence. He who would check a revengeful humour, 
 would do well to deny himself the satisfaction of repre- 
 senting unto others the injuries which he hath sustained; 
 and if we would so take heed to our ways, that we sin 
 not with our tongue, we must accustom ourselves much 
 to solitude and silence, and sometimes, with the Psalm- 
 ist, Hold our peace even from good, till once we have 
 gotten some command over that unmly member. Thus, 
 I say, we may bind up our natural inclinations, and 
 make our appetites more moderate in their cravings, by 
 accustoming them to frequent refusals: but it is not 
 enough to have them under violence and restraint. 
 
 We must strive to put ourselves out of love with the 
 
 world. 
 
 Our next essay must be to wean our affections from 
 
 created things, and all the delights and entertainments 
 
 of the lower life, which sink and depress the soula 
 
 ■4 
 
58 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 of men, and retard their motions towards God and 
 heaven; and this we must do by possessing our minds 
 with a deep persuasion of the vanity and emptin&ss of 
 worldly enjoyments. This is an ordinary theme, and 
 every body can make declamations upon it; but alas! 
 how i'ew understand and believe what they say! These 
 notions float in our brains, and come sliding off our 
 tongues, but we have no deep impression of them on 
 our spirits, we feel not the truth which we pretend to 
 believe. We can tell that all the glory and splendour, 
 all the pleasures and enjoyments of the world, are van- 
 ity and nothing; and yet these nothings take up all our 
 thoughts, and engross all our aftections; they stifle the 
 better inclinations of our soul, and inveigle us into 
 many a sin. It may be, in a sober mood, we give them 
 the slight, and resolve to be no longer deluded with 
 them; but these thoughts seldom outlive the next temp- 
 tation; the vanities which we have shut out at the door 
 get in at a postern: there are still some pretensions, 
 some hopes that flatter us; and after we have been 
 frustrated a thousand times, we must be continually 
 repeating the experiment: the least difference of cir- 
 cumstances is enough to delude us, and make us ex- 
 pect that satisfaction in one thing which we have 
 missed in another: but could we once get clearly off", 
 and come to a real and serious contempt of worldly 
 things, this were a very considerable advancement in 
 our way. The soul of man is of a vigorous and active 
 nature, and hath in it a raging and inextinguishable 
 thirst, an immaterial kind of fire, always catching at 
 some object or other, in conjunction wherewith it 
 thinks to be happy; and were it once rent from the 
 world, and all the bewitching enjoyments under the 
 sun, it w-ould quickly search after some liigher and 
 more excellent object, to satisfy its ardent and importu- 
 nate cravings; and being no longer dazzled with glitter- 
 ing vanities, would fix on that supreme and all-suffi- 
 cient Good, where it would discover such beauty and 
 sweetness, as would charm and overpower all its 
 afTections. The love of the world, and the love of 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN 59 
 
 God, are like the scales of a balance; as the one falleth, 
 the other doth rise: when our natural inclinations pros- 
 per, and the creature is exalted in our soul, religion is 
 faint, and doth languish; but when earthly objects 
 wither away and lose their beauty, and the soul begins 
 to cool and flag in its prosecution of them, then the 
 seeds of grace take root, and the divine life begins to 
 flourish and prevail. It doth, therefore, nearly con- 
 cern us, to convince ourselves of the emptiness and van- 
 ity of creature-enjoyments, and reason our hearts out 
 of love with them: let us seriously consider all that our 
 reason, or our faith, our own experience, or the ob- 
 servation of others, can suggest to this effect; let us pon- 
 der the matter over and over, and fix our thoughts on this 
 tnxth, till we become really persuaded of it. Amidst 
 all our pursuits and designs, let us stop and ask ourselves, 
 For what end is all this? at what do I aim? can the gross 
 and muddy pleasures of sense, or a heap of white and 
 yellow earth, or the esteem and affection of siijy creatures 
 like myself, satisfy a rational and immortal soul? Have 
 I not tried these things already? will they have a higher 
 relish, and yield me more contentment tomorrow than 
 yesterday, or the next year than they did the last? There 
 may be some little difference between that which I am 
 now pursuing, and that which I enjoyed before; but sure 
 my former enjoyments did show as pleasant, and promis- 
 ed as fair, before I attained them: like the rainbow, they 
 looked very glorious at a distance, but when I approach- 
 ed I found nothing but emptiness and vapour. O what 
 a poor thing would the life of man be, if it were ca- 
 pable of no higher enjoyments! 
 
 I cannot insist on this subject: and there is the less 
 need, when I remember to whom I am writing. Yes, 
 my dear friend, you have had as great experience of 
 the emptiness and vanity of human things, and have at 
 present as few worldly engagements as any that I 
 know. I have sometimes reflected on those passages 
 of your life wherewith you have been pleased to ac- 
 quaint me; and methinks, through all, I can discern a 
 design of the divine Providence to wean your affections 
 
60 THE LIFE or COD 
 
 from every thing here below. The trials you have 
 had of those things whicli the world doats upon, have 
 taught you to despise theni; and you have found by 
 experience, that iseither the endowments of nature, nor 
 the advantages of fortune, are sufficient for happiness; 
 that every rose hath its thorn, and there may be a 
 worm at the root of the fairest gourd; some secret and 
 undiscerned grief, which may make a person deserve 
 the pity of those who perhaps do admire or envy their 
 supposed felicity. If any earthly comforts have got 
 too much of your heart, 1 think thev have been your 
 relations and friends; and the dearest of these are re- 
 moved out of the world, so that you must raise your 
 mind towards heaven, when you would think upon 
 them. Thus God hath provided that your heart may 
 be loosed from ths world, and that he may not have 
 any rival in your aftection, which I have always ob- 
 served to be so large and unbounded, so noble and dis- 
 interested, that no inferior object can answer or de- 
 serve it. 
 
 We must do those outrcard actions that aj-e 
 commanded. 
 
 When we have got our corniptions restrained, and 
 our natural appetites and inclinations towards worldly 
 things in some measure subdued, we must proceed to 
 such exercises as have a more immediate tendency to 
 excite and awaken the divine life: and, first, let us en- 
 deavour conscientiously to perform those duties which 
 religion doth require, and whereunto it would incline 
 us, if it did prevail in our souls. If we cannot get 
 our inward disposition presently changed, let us study 
 at least to regulate our outward deportment: if our 
 hearts be not yet uiflamed with divine love, let us, how- 
 ever, own our allegiance to that infinite Majesty, by at- 
 tending his service, and listening to his word, by speak- 
 ing reverently of his name, and praising his goodness, 
 and exhorting others to serve and obey him. If w* 
 want that charity, and those bo\Vels of compassion 
 which we ought to have towards our neighbours, yet 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN 61 
 
 must we not omit any occasion of doing them good: if 
 our hearts be haughty and proud, we must nevertheless 
 study a modest and humble deportment. These exter- 
 nal performances are of little value in themselves, yet 
 they may help us forward to better things. The apostle 
 indeed tells us, that bodily exercise profiteth little; 
 but he seems not to affirm that it is altogether useless: 
 it is always good to be doing what we can, for then 
 God is wont to pity our weakness, and assist our feeble 
 endeavours; and when true charity and humility, and 
 other graces of the divine Spirit, come to take root in 
 our souls, they will exert themselves more freely, and 
 with less difficulty, if we have before been accustomed 
 to express them in our outward conversations. Nor 
 need we fear the imputation of hypocrisy, though our 
 actions do thus somewhat outrun our aifections, seeing 
 they do still proceed from a sense of our duty; and our 
 design is not to appear better than we are, but that we 
 may really become so. 
 
 We must endeavour to form internal acts of 
 deiwtioTi, charity, ^c. 
 
 But as inward acts have a more immediate influence 
 on the soul, to mould it to a right temper and frame, so 
 ought we to be most frequent and sedulous in the exer- 
 cise of them. Let us be often lifting up our hearts to- 
 ward God; and if we do not say that we love him above 
 all things, let us at least acknowledge that it is our duty, 
 and would be our happiness so to do ; let us lament the 
 dishonour done unto him by foolish and sinful men, and 
 applaud the praises and adorations that are given him 
 by that blessed and glorious company above: let us re- 
 sign and yield ourselves up unto him a thousand times, 
 to be governed by his laws, and disposed of at his plea- 
 sure. And though our stubborn hearts should start back 
 and refuse ; yet let us tell him we are convinced that 
 his will is always just and good; and therefore desire 
 Iiim to do with us whatsoever he pleaseth, whether we 
 will or not. And so, for begetting in us an universal 
 charity towards men, we must be frequently putting up 
 
62 tut LIFE OF GOD" 
 
 wishes for their happiness, and blessing every persoii 
 that we see ; and when we have done any thing for the 
 relief of the miserable, we may second it \Aith earnest 
 desires that God would take care of them, and deliver 
 them out of all their distresses. 
 
 Thus should we exercise ourselves unto godliness. 
 And when we are employing the powers that we have, 
 the Spirit of God is wont to strike in, and elevate these 
 acts of our soul beyond the pitch of nature, and give 
 them a divine impression: and, after the frequent reit- 
 eration of these, we shall find ourselves more inclined 
 unto them, they flowing with greater freedom and 
 ease. 
 
 Consideration a great instrument of religion. 
 
 I shall mention but two other means for begetting that 
 holy and divine temper of spirit which is the subject of 
 the present discourse. And the first is, a deep and se- 
 rious consideration of the tniths of our religion, and that 
 both as to the certainty and importance of them. The 
 assent which is ordinarily given to divine trutlis, is \ety 
 faint and languid; very Weak and ineffectual; flowing 
 only from a blind inclination to follow that religion 
 which is in fashion, or a lazy indifference and uncon- 
 cernedness whether things be so or not. Men are un- 
 willing to quarrel with the religion of their country, and 
 since all their neighbours are christians, they are content 
 to be so too ; but they are seldom at the pains to consid- 
 er the evidences of those truths, or to ponder the impor- 
 tance and tendency of them ; and ihence it is that they 
 have so little influence on their affections and practice. 
 Those spiritless and j^aralytic thoughts (as one doth 
 rightly term them) are not able to move the will and di- 
 rect the hand: we must therefore endeavour to work 
 up our minds to a serious belief and full persuasion of 
 divine truths, ixnto a sense and feeling of spiritual things. 
 Our thoughts must dwell upon them, till we are both 
 convinced of them, and deeply aflected with them. Let 
 us urge forward our spirits, and make them approach 
 the invisible world; and fix our minds upon immaterial 
 
IS THE SOUL OF MAN. 63 
 
 things, till we clearly perceive that these are no dreams; 
 nay, that all things are dreams and shadows besides 
 them. When we look about us and behold the beauty 
 and magnificence of this goodly frame, the order and 
 harmony of the whole creation, let our thoughts from 
 thence take their flight towards that omnipotent wisdom 
 and goodness which did at first produce, and doth still 
 establish and uphold the same. When we reflect upon 
 ourselves, let us consider that we are not a mere piece 
 of organized matter; a curious and well contrived engine; 
 that there is more in us than flesh, and blood, and bones; 
 even a divine spark, capable to know, and love, and 
 enjoy our Maker; and though it be now exceedingly clog- 
 ged with its dull and lumpish companion, yet ere long 
 it shall be delivered, and can subsist without the body, 
 as well as that can do without the clothes which we 
 throw ofl^ at our pleasure. Let us often withdraw our 
 thoughts from this earth, this scene of misery, folly, and 
 sin, and raise them towards that more vast and glorious 
 world, whose innocent and blessed inhabitants solace 
 themselves eternally in the divine presence, and know 
 no other passion but an unmixed joy, and an unbounded 
 love: and then consider how the blessed Son of God 
 came down to this lower world to live among us, and 
 die for us, that he might bring us to a portion of the same 
 felicity ; and think how he hath overcome the sharpness 
 of death, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all be- 
 lievers, and is now set down on the right hand of the 
 Majesti/ on high; and yet is not the less mindful of us, 
 but receiveth our prayers, and presenteth them unto his 
 Father; and is daily visiting his church with the influen- 
 ces of his Spirit, as the sun reacheth us with his beams. 
 
 To beget divine love, ive must consider the excel- 
 lency of the divine nature. 
 The serioiis and frequent consideration of these, and 
 such other divine truths, is the most proper method to 
 beget that lively faith which is the foundation of religion, 
 the spring and root of the divine life. Let me further 
 suggest some particular subjects of meditation for pro- 
 
64 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 ducing the several branches of it. And, first, to inflame 
 our souls with the love of God, let us consider the ex- 
 cellency of his nature, and his love and kindness towards 
 Ks. It is little we know of the divine perfection, and yet 
 that little may suffice to fill our souls with admiration 
 and love; to ravish our affections as well as to raise our 
 wonder: for we are not merely creatures of sense, that 
 we should be incapable of any other affection but that 
 which entereth by the eyes. The character of any ex- 
 cellent person whom we have never seen, will many 
 times engage our hearts, and make us hugely concerned 
 in all his interests. And what is it, I pray you, that en- 
 gages us so much to those with whom we converse? I 
 cannot think that it is merely the colour of their face, 
 or their comely proportions; for then we should fhll in 
 love with statues, and pictures, and flowers. These 
 outward accomplishments may a little delight the eye, 
 but would never be able to prevail so much on the heart, 
 if they did not represent some vital perfection. We 
 either see or apprehend some greatness of mind, or vig- 
 our of spirit, or sweetness of disposition; some spright- 
 liness, or wisdom, or goodness, which charm our spirit, 
 and command our love. Now these perfections are not 
 obvious to the sight, the eyes can only discern the signs 
 and eft'ects of them; and if it be the understanding that 
 directs the affection, and vital perfections prevail with it, 
 certainly the excellencies of the divine nature (the tra- 
 ces whereof we cannot but discover in every thing we 
 behold) would not fail to engage our hearts, if we did 
 seriously view and regard them, Shall we not be infi- 
 nitely more transported with that almighty wisdom and 
 goodness which fills the universe, and displays itself in 
 all the parts of creation, which establisheth the frame of 
 nature, and tumeth the mighty wheels of providence, 
 and keepeth the world from disorder and ruin, than with 
 the faint rays of the same perfections which we meet 
 with in our fellow-creatures? Shall we doat on the scat- 
 tered pieces of a rude and imperfect picture, and never 
 be affected with the original beauty? This were an un- 
 ibccountable stupidity and blindness. Whatever we find 
 
IN THE SOXTL OF MAN". 65 
 
 lovely in a friend, or in a saint, onght not to engross, but 
 to elevate our affection. We should conclude with our- 
 selves, that if there be so much sweetness in a drop, 
 there must be iniinitely more in the fountain; if there be 
 so much splendour in a ray, what must the sun be in its 
 glory? 
 
 Nor can we pretend the remoteness of the object, as 
 if God were at too great a distance for our converse or 
 our love: He is not far from every one of us; for in 
 him we live, and move, and have our being. We 
 cannot open our eyes, but we must behold some foot- 
 steps of his glory; and we cannot tuni them toward him, 
 but we shall be sure to find his intent upon us; waiting 
 as it were to catch a look, ready to entertain the most 
 intimate fellowship and communion with us. Let us 
 therefore endeavour to raise our minds to the clearest 
 conceptions of the divine nature. Let us consider all 
 that his works do declare, or his word doth discover of 
 him unto us ; and let us especially contemplate that visi- 
 ble representation of him which was made in our own 
 nature by his Son, who was the brightness of his glo- 
 ry, and the express image of his person; and who 
 appeared in the world to discover at once what God is, 
 and what we ought to be. Let us represent him unto 
 our minds as we find him described in the gospel; and 
 there we shall behold the perfections of the divine na- 
 ture, though covered with the veil of human infirmities; 
 and when we have framed unto ourselves the clearest 
 notion that we can of a Being, infinite in power, in 
 wisdom, and goodness; the author and fountain of all 
 perfections, let us fix the eyes of our soul upon it, that 
 our eyes may affect our heart, and while we are musr 
 ing the fire will burn. 
 
 TVe should meditate on God^s goodness and love, 
 Especially, if hereunto we add the consideration of 
 God's favour and good-will towards us; nothing is more 
 powerful to engage our affection, than to find that we 
 are beloved. J^xpressions of kindness are always pleas- 
 ing and acceptable unto us, though the person shoiild be 
 6* 
 
©6 THK LIFE OF GOD 
 
 Otherwise mean and contemptible: but to have the love 
 of one who is altogether lovely, to know that the glori- 
 ous Majesty of heaven hath any regard unto us, how 
 must it astonish and delight us! how must it overcome 
 our spirits, and melt our hearts, and put our whole soul 
 into a flame! Now as the word of God is full of the 
 expressions of his love towards man, so all his works do 
 loudly proclaim it; he gave us our being, and by pre- 
 serving us in it, doth renew the donation every moment. 
 He hath placed us in a rich and well furnished world, 
 and liberally provided for all our necessities; he raineth 
 down blessings from heaven upon us, and causeth the 
 earth to bring forth our provision; he giv'eth us our food 
 and raiment, and while we are spending the productions 
 of one year, he is preparing for us against another. He 
 Bweeteneth our lives with innumerable comforts, and 
 gratifieth every faculty with suitable objects; the eye of 
 his providence is always upon us, and he watcheth for 
 our safety when we are fast asleep, neither minding him 
 nor ourselves. But lest we should think these testimo- 
 nies of his kindness less considerable, because they are 
 the easy issues of his omnipotent power, and do not put 
 him to any trouble or pain, he hath taken a more won- 
 derful method to endear himself to us; he hath testified 
 his affection to us, by suffering as well as by doing; and 
 because he could not suffer in his own nature he assumed 
 ours. The eternal Son of God did clothe himself with 
 the infirmities of our flesh, and left the company of 
 those innocent and blessed spirits, who knew well how 
 to love and adore him, that he might dwell among 
 men, and wrestle with the obstinacy of that rebellious 
 race, to reduce them to their allegiance and fidelity, and 
 then to ofier himself up as a sacrifice and propitiation 
 for them. I remember one of the poets hath an ingeni- 
 ous fancy to express the passion wherewith he found 
 himself overcome after a long resistance: *' That the 
 god of love had shot all his golden arrows at him, but 
 could never pierce his heart, till at length he put himself 
 into the bow, and darted himself straight into his breast." 
 Methinks thia doth some way adumbrate God's method 
 
I3Sr THB SOUL OP MAW. OT 
 
 fif dealing with men: he had long contended with a stub- 
 bora world, and thrown down many a blessing upon 
 them ; and when all his other gifts could not prevail, he at 
 last made a gift of himself, to testify his atfection and 
 engage theirs. The account which we have of our Sa- 
 viour's life in the gospel, doth all along present us with 
 the story of his love; all the pains that he took, and the 
 troubles that he endured, were the wonderful effects, 
 and uncontrollable evidences of it. But O that last, that 
 dismal scene! Is it possible to remember it, and ques- 
 tion his kindness, or deny him ours? Here, here it is, 
 my dear friend, that we should fix our most serious and 
 'solemn thoughts, that Christ may dwell in our hearts by 
 faith: that we being rooted and grounded in love, may be 
 able to comprehend with all saints, what is the breadth, 
 and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love 
 of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that we may be 
 filled with all the fulness of God. 
 
 We ought also frequently to reflect on those particu- 
 lar tokens of favour and love, which God hath bestowed 
 9n ourselves; how long he hath borne with our follies and 
 sins, and waited to be gracious unto us; wrestling, as it 
 were, with the stubbornness of our hearts, and essaying 
 every method to reclaim us. We should keep a register 
 in our minds of all the eminent blessings and deliver- 
 ances we have met with; some whereof have been so 
 conveyed, that we might clearly perceive they were not 
 the issues of chance, but the gracious effects of the di- 
 vine favour, and the signal returns of our prayers. Nor 
 ought we to imbitter the thoughts of these things with 
 any harsh or unworthy suspicion, as if they were design- 
 ed on purpose to enhance our guilt, and heighten our 
 eternal damnation. No, no, my friend, God is love, 
 and ha hath no pleasure in the ruin of his creatures; if 
 they abuse his goodness, and turn his grace into wanton- 
 ness, and thereby plunge themselves into greater depths 
 of guilt and misery, this is the effect of their obstinate 
 wickedness, and not the design of those benefits which 
 he bestows. 
 
 If these consiidcrations had once begotten in our heaiSs 
 
68 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 a real love and affection towards Almighty God, that 
 would easily lead us unto the other branches of religion, 
 and therefore I shall need say the less of them. 
 
 To beget charity we must remember that all men 
 are nearly related unto God. 
 We shall find our hearts enlarged in charity towards 
 men, by considering the relation wherein they stand 
 unto God, and the impresses of his image which are 
 stamped upon them. They are not only his creatures, 
 the workmanship of his hands, but such of whom he 
 taketh special care, and for whom he hath a very dear 
 and tender regard; having laid the design of their hap- 
 piness before the foundations of the world, and being 
 willing to live and converse with them to all the ages of 
 eternity. The meanest and most contemptible person 
 whom we behold, is the offspring of heaven, one of the 
 children of the Most High; and however unworthy he 
 might behave himself of that relation, so long as God 
 hath not abdicated and disowned him by a final sen- 
 tence, he will have us to acknowledge him as one of his, 
 and as such to embrace him with a sincere and cordial 
 affection. You know what a great concernment we are 
 wont to have for those that do anywise belong to the 
 person whom we love; how gladly we lay hold on ev- 
 ery opportunity to gratify the child or servant of a friend; 
 and sure our love towards God would as naturally spring 
 forth in charity towards men, did we mind the interest 
 that he is pleased to take in them, and consider that ev- 
 ery soul is dearer unto him than all the material world: 
 and that he did not account the blood of his son too 
 great a price for their redemption, 
 
 That they carry God's image upon them. 
 Again, as all men stand in a near relation to God, so 
 they have still so much of his image stamped upon them, 
 as may oblige and excite us to love them; in some this 
 image is more eminent and conspicuous, and we can 
 discern the lovely traces of wisdom and goodness; and 
 though in pthers \\ is miserably sullied and defaced^ yet 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 69 
 
 it is not altogether erased, some lineaments at least do 
 still remain. All men are endued with rational and 
 immortal souls, with understandings and wills capable of 
 the highest and most excellent things; and if they be at 
 present disordered and put out of tune by wickedness 
 and folly, this may indeed move our compassion, but 
 ought not in reason to extinguish our love. When we 
 see a person in a rugged humour, and perverse disposi- 
 tion, full of malice and dissimulation, very foolish and 
 very proud, it is hard to fall in love with an object that 
 presents itself unto us under an idea so little grateful 
 and lovely. But when we shall consider these evil 
 qualities as the diseases and distempers of a soul, which 
 in itself is capable of all that wisdom and goodness 
 wherewith the best of saints have ever been adorned, 
 and which may one day ctjme to be raised unto such 
 heights of perfection as shall render it a fit companion for 
 the holy angels, this will turn our aversion into pity, 
 and make us behold him with such resentments as we 
 should have when we look upon a beautiful body that 
 was mangled with wounds, or disfigured by some loath- 
 some disease; and however we hate the vices, we shall 
 not cease to love the man. 
 
 To beget pur iti/, we should consider the dignity of 
 our nature. 
 In the nSKt place, for purifying our souls, and disen- 
 tangling our affections from the pleasures and enjoy- 
 ments of this lower life, let us frequently ponder the ex- 
 cellency and dignity of our nature, and what a shame- 
 ful and luiwoithy thing it is for so noble and divine a 
 creature as the soul of man, to be sunk and immersed 
 in brutish and sensual lust, or amused with airy and 
 fantastical delights, and so to lose the relish of solid 
 and spiritual pleasures; that the beast should be fed and 
 pampered, and the man and the christian be starved in 
 us. Did we but mind who we are, and for what we 
 were made, this would teach us in a right sense to rev- 
 erence and stand in awe of ourselves; it would beget a 
 modesty and shame-facedness, and make us very shy 
 
70 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 and reserved in the use of the most mnocent and allow- 
 able pleasures. 
 
 We should meditate often on the joys of heaven. 
 It will be very effectual to the same purpose, that 
 we frequently raise our minds towards heaven, and re- 
 present to our thoughts the joys that are at God's right 
 hand, those pleasures that endure for evermore; for 
 every jnan that hath this hope in him, purifieth 
 himself, even as he is pure. If our heavenly country 
 be much in our thoughts, it will make us, as strangers 
 and pilgrims, to abstain from fleshly lusts, which war 
 against the soul, and keep ourselves unspotted from this 
 w^orld, that we may be fit for the enjoyments and felici- 
 ties of the other. But then we must see that our notions 
 of heaven be not gross and carnal, that we dream not 
 of a Mahometan paradise, nor rest on those metaphors 
 and similitudes by which these joys are sometimes repre- 
 sented; for this might, perhaps, have quite a contrary 
 effect; it might entangle us further in carnal affections, 
 and we should be ready to indulge ourselves in a very 
 liberal foretaste of those pleasures, wherein we had pla- 
 ced our everlasting felicity. But when we come once 
 to conceive aright of those pure and spiritual pleasures, 
 when the happiness we propose to ourselves is from the 
 sight, and love, and enjoyment of God, and our minds 
 are filled with the hopes and forethoughts of W)at blessed 
 estate; O how mean and contemptible will all things 
 here below appear in our eyes! with what disdain shall 
 we reject the gross and muddy pleasures that would de- 
 prive us of those celestial enjoyments, or any way un- 
 fit and indispose us for them. 
 
 Humility arises from the consideration of our 
 failings. 
 The last branch of religion is humility, and sure we 
 can never want matter of consideration for begettmg it: 
 all our wickednesses and imperfections, all our follies 
 and our sins, may help to pull down that fond and over- 
 \Y^eening conceit which we are apt to entertain of our* 
 
IN THE SOUL OF MAN. 71 
 
 selves. That which makes any body esteem us, is 
 then- knowledge or apprehension of some little good, 
 and their ignorance of a great deal of evil that may be 
 in us; were they thoroughly acquainted with us, they 
 would quickly change their opinion. The thouglits 
 that pass in our heart, in the best and most serious day 
 of our life, being exposed unto public view, would ren- 
 der us either hatefal or ridiculous: and now, however 
 we conceal our failings from one another, yet sure we 
 are conscious of them ourselves, and some serious reflec- 
 tions upon them would much qualify and allay the van- 
 ity of our spirits. Thus holy men have come really to 
 think worse of themselves, than of any other person in 
 the world: not but that they knew that gross and scan- 
 dalous vices are, in their nature j more heinous than the 
 surprisals of temptations and infirmity; but because they 
 were much more intent on their own miscarriages, than 
 on those of their neighbours, and did consider all the ag- 
 gravations of the one, and every thing that might be 
 supposed to diminish and alleviate the other. 
 
 Thoughts of God give us the loioest thoughts of 
 ourselves. 
 But it is well observed by a pious writer, that the 
 deepest and most pure humility doth not so much arise 
 from the consideration of our own faults and defects, as 
 from a calm and quiet contemplation of the divine puri- 
 ty and goodness. Our spots never appear so clearly, 
 as when we place them before this infinite light; and we 
 never seem less in our own eyes, than when we look 
 down upon ourselves from on high. O how little, how 
 nothing do all those shadows of perfection then appear, 
 for which we are wont to value ourselves'. That hu- 
 mility which Cometh from a view of our own sinfulness 
 and misery, is more turbulent and boisterous; but the 
 other layeth us full as low, and wanteth nothing of that 
 anguish and vexation wherewith our souls are apt to boil 
 when thpy are the nearest objects of our thoughts. 
 
72 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 Prayer, another instrianent of religion, and the 
 advantages of mental prayer. 
 There remains yet another means for begetting a holy 
 and religroTis disposition in the soul; and that is, fervent 
 and hearty prayer. Holiness is the gift of God; indeed 
 the greatest gift he doth bestow, or we are capable to re- 
 ceive ; and he hath promised his holy Spirit to those that 
 ask it of him. In prayer we make the nearest approach- 
 es to God, and lie open to the influences of heaven: theo 
 it is that the smi of righteousness doth visit us with his 
 directest rays, and dissipateth our darkness, and imprint- 
 eth his image on our souls. I cannot now insist on the 
 advantages of this exercise, or the dispositions where- 
 with it ought to be performed, and there is no need I 
 should, there being so many boolis that treat on this 
 eubject; 1 shall only tell you, that as there is one sort of 
 prayer wherein we make use of the voice, which is 
 necessary in public, and may sometimes have its own 
 advantages in private; and another wherein though we 
 utter no sound, yet we conceive the expressions and 
 form the words, as it were, in our minds: so there is a 
 third and more sublime kind of prayer, wherein the soul 
 takes a higher flight, and having collected all its forces 
 by long and serious meditation, it darteth itself (if I 
 may so speak) towards God in sighs, and groans, 
 and thoughts too big for expression. As when, after a 
 deep contemplation of the divine perfections appearing 
 in all his works of wonder, it addresseth itself unto him 
 in the profoundest adoration of his majesty and glory: or 
 when, after sad reflections on its vileness and miscar- 
 riages, it prostrates itself before him with the greatest 
 confusion and sorrow, not daring to lift up its eyes, or 
 titter one word in his presence: or when having well con- 
 sidered the beauty of holiness, and the unspeakable fe- 
 licity of those that are truly good, it panteth after God, 
 and sendeth up such vigorous and ardent desires as no 
 words can sufficiently express, continuing and repeating 
 each of these acts as long as it fmds itself upheld by the 
 force and impulse of the previous meditation. 
 
IN" THE SOUL OF MAIf. 7§ 
 
 This mental prayer is of all others the most effectual 
 tg purify the soul, and dispose it unto a holy and reli- 
 gious temper, and may be termed the great secret of de- 
 votion, and one of the most powerful instruments of the 
 divine life; and it maybe the apostle hath a peculiar 
 respect unto it, when he saith, that the Spirit helpeth 
 our infirmities, making intercession for us with 
 groanings that cannot he uttered; or, the original 
 may bear, that cannot he worded. Yet I do not so 
 recommend this sort of prayer, as to supersede the use 
 of the other; for we have so many several things to pray 
 for, and every petition of this nature requireth so much 
 time, and so great an intention of spirit, that it were 
 not easy therein to overtake them all; to say nothing 
 that the deep sighs and heavings of the heart which are 
 wont to accompany it, are something oppressive to na- 
 ture, and make it hard to continue long in them. But 
 certainly a few of these inward aspirations, will do more 
 than a great many fluent and melting expressions. 
 
 Religion is to he advanced hy the same jneans hy 
 which it is hegun; and the use of the holy Sa- 
 crament towards it. 
 
 Thus, my dear friend, I have briefly proposed the 
 method which I judge proper for moulding the soul 
 into a holy frame; and the same means which serve to 
 beget this divine temper, must still be practised for 
 strengthening and advancing it; and therefore I shall re- 
 commend but one more for that purpose, and that is the 
 frequent and conscientious use of that holy Sacrament, 
 which is peculiarly appointed to nourish and increase 
 the spiritual life, when once it is begotten in the soul. 
 All the instruments of religion do meet together in this 
 ordinance; and while we address ourselves unto it, we 
 are put to practise a« 1 the rules which were mentioned be- 
 fore. Then it is that we make the severest survey of 
 Our actions, and lay the strictest obligations on ourselves; 
 then are our minds raised to the highest contempt of the 
 world, and every grace doth exercise itself with the 
 greatest activity and vigour; all the subjects of contend-' 
 '7 
 
74 THE LIFE OF GOD 
 
 plation do tliere present themselves unto us with the 
 greatest advantage; and then, if ever, doth the soul 
 make its most powerful sallies towards heaven, and 
 assault it with a holy and acceptable force. And cer- 
 tainly the neglect or careless performance of this duty, 
 is one of the chief causes that bedvvarfs our religion, and 
 makes us continue of so low a size. 
 
 But it is time I should put a close to this letter, 
 which is grown to a far greater bulk than at first I in- 
 tended: if these poor papers can do you the smallest ser- 
 vice, I shall think myself very happy in this undertak- 
 ing; at least, I am hopeful you will kindly accept the 
 sincere endeavours of a person who would fain acquit 
 himself of some part of that which he ov^es you. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 "And now, O most gracious God, Father and Fountain 
 of mercy and goodness, who hast blessed us with the 
 knowledge of our happiness, and the way that leadeth 
 unto it, excite in our souls such ardent desires after the 
 one, as may put us forth to the diligent prosecution of 
 the other. Let us neither presume on our own strength, 
 nor distrust thy divine assistance; but while we are do- 
 ing our utmost endeavours, teach us still to depend on 
 thee for success Open our eyes, O God, and teach 
 us out of thy law Bless us with an exact and tender 
 sense of our duty, and a knowledge to discern perverse 
 things. O that our ways were directed to keep thy 
 statutes, then shall we not be ashamed when we have 
 respect unto all thy commandments. Possess our hearts 
 with a generous and holy disdain of all those poor en- 
 joyments which this world holdeth out to allure us, that 
 they may never be able to inveigle our affections, or 
 betray us to any sin: turn away our eyes from behold- 
 ing vanity, and quicken thou us in thy law. Fill our 
 souls with such a deep sense and full persuasion of 
 those great truths which thou hast revealed in the gos- 
 pel, as may influence and regulate our whole conversa- 
 tion; and that the life which we henceforth live in the 
 flesh, we may live through faith in the Son of God. O 
 
IN THE SODL. OF MAN. 75 
 
 that the infinite perfections of thy blessed nature, and 
 the astonishing expressions of thy goodness and love, 
 may conquer and overpower our hearts, that they may 
 be constantly rising toward thee in flames of the devout- 
 est affection, and enlarging themselves in sincere and 
 cordial love towards all the world, for thy sake; and 
 that we may cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh 
 and spirit, perfecting holiness in thy fear, without which 
 wc can never hope to behold and enjoy thee. Finally, 
 O God, grant that the consideration of what thou art, 
 and what we ourselves are, may both humble and lay 
 us low before thee, and also stir up in us the strongest 
 and most ardent aspirations towards thee. We desire 
 to resign and give up ourselves to the conduct of thy 
 holy Spirit; lead us in thy truth, and teach us, for thou 
 art the God of our salvation; guide us with thy counsel, 
 and afterwards receive us imto glory, for the merits and 
 intercession of thy blessed Son our Saviour." Amen. 
 
]VI]VE DISCOURSES 
 
 ON 
 
 IMPORTANT SUBJECTS, 
 
 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY OF THE 
 RELIGIOUS. 
 
 PROV. XII. 26. 
 
 Tlie righteous is more excellent than his neighbour. 
 
 He who considereth the excellency and advantage of 
 piety and religion, how conformable it is to the best 
 principle of our nature, and how profitable to our 
 interests, may just wonder and be surprised at the bad 
 entertainment it receives in the world; and easily con- 
 clude, that this must Aeeds flow from some gross mis- 
 takes about it, and prejudices against it; since it is so 
 natural to us to love that which is good, and delight 
 in that which is amiable, when things are not misrep- 
 resented. 
 
 Certainly all who are enemies to holiness, have 
 taken up false measures and disadvantageous notions 
 of it. The sensual person hateth it as harsh and un- 
 pleasant, doing violence to his carnal appetites; and 
 looks on religion as a contrivance to deprive and rob 
 him of the pleasures of this world, by proposing those of 
 another. The politic wit slights it as foolish and im- 
 prudent; and though he acknowledges it a necessary 
 instrument of government, a good device to overawe a 
 multitude, yet he counts a great weakness to be further 
 concerned in it than may be consistent with; and aubv 
 
78 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCT 
 
 sen-ient to secular desig^iis. Again, the gallants of our 
 age despise it as a base ignoble temper, unworthy of a 
 high birth and genteel education, incident to meaner 
 souls, proceeding from cowardly and superstitious fear, 
 depressing the mind, and rendering it incapable of high 
 and aspiring thoughts. Hence they make it their busi- 
 ness to pour contempt upon piety, and advance the 
 reputation of those vicious courses which themselves 
 have embraced; and because there are yet some left, 
 who, by practising and recommending virtue, do oppose 
 and condenni tlieir lewd practices, they study to avenge 
 themselves on them by the persecution of their tongues, 
 and all the scoffs and reproaches they can invent and 
 utter: which hath proved a mean most unhappily suc- 
 cessful to deter many weak minds from goodness, ma- 
 king them choose to be wicked that they may not be 
 laughed at. 
 
 It is to discover the grossness of this mistake, and ex- 
 pose the absurdities and unreasonableness of these princi- 
 ples and practices; to vindicate the excellency of piety, 
 and to recommend it to all truly generous souls, that we 
 have made choice of this text, which tells us in short 
 and plain terms, that the righteous is more excellent 
 than his neighbour. 
 
 None can be so little acquainted with the scripture 
 dialect, as not to know, that though righteousness in 
 its truest acceptation importeth only the observation of 
 those duties we owe our neighbour, yet it is usually 
 taken more largely for piety and virtue in general. 
 And good reason too, since there is no part of our duty 
 but we owe it as a debt unto God; no exercise of religion 
 but it is an act of justice: whence the clear importance 
 of the text is, that whatever excellency other persons 
 may pretend to, the pious and religious men are the 
 truly noble and generous persons in the world; as the 
 Pscdmist expresseth it. The saints are excellent ones 
 in the earth. 
 
 Now, we shall not trouble you with any further ex- 
 plication of the words, which are so clear, or with any 
 4ivision of a proposition so simple: but yhall illustrate 
 
OF THE RELIGIOUS, 79 
 
 and confirm the assertion, by producing such undoubted 
 evidences of nobleness and excellency, as are proper to 
 godliness, and to those who practise it: where we may 
 have occasion to hint at such characters of a pious man, 
 as, besides the general design, may perhaps serve to 
 put us in mind of some parts of our duty which we are 
 not so careful to observe; and which therefore may be 
 useful even to those who have already embraced the 
 practice of religion. 
 
 Being to speak of the nobleness and excellency of 
 religion, it may be expected we should say something of 
 its origin and extract; that being the whole of nobility 
 which some understand, and others pretend to. We 
 might take occasion to discover the folly of glorying in 
 the antiquity of an illustrious house, or the famed virtue 
 of worthy ancestors, who, perhaps, were they alive, 
 would disown their degenerate progeny. But I shall 
 not insist upon this; it is a vanity which hath been 
 chastised sulhciently even by Heathen pens. Nay, we 
 shall so far comply with the common sentiments of the 
 world, as to acknowledge, that high birth and liberal ed- 
 ucation may contribute much to elevate the minds of 
 men, and accustom them to great thoughts. But sure, 
 whatever advantages any may pretend to by their birth, 
 there are none to be preferred to the children of God, 
 the blood-royal of heaven, the brethren of Christ; of 
 whom we may say, that as he is, so are they, each one 
 resembling the son of a king. 
 
 If we trace the lines of earthly extraction, we shall 
 find them all meet in one point; all terminate in dust and 
 earth. But in the heraldry of heaven we shall find a two- 
 fold pedigree. Sin is the offspring of hell, and wicked 
 men are of their father the devil whose work they per- 
 form. On the other hand, holiness is the seed of God, 
 and the saints have obtained to be called the sons of the 
 Most High. And think not these are empty titles, and 
 big words, to amuse the world; no, they are equally just 
 and important. Pious men are really partakers of the 
 divin-e nature, and shall obtain an interest in the inheri- 
 tance which is entailed on that relation, Never were the 
 
90 VHE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY 
 
 qualities of a parent more really derived unto their chil- 
 dren, than the image and similitude of the divine excel- 
 lencies are stamped upon these heaven-born souls: some 
 beams of that eternal light are darted in upon them, and 
 make them shine with an eminent splendour; and they 
 are always aspiring to a nearer conformity with him, still 
 breathing after a further communication of his Holy 
 Spirit, and daily finding the power thereof correcting the 
 ruder deformities of their natures, and superinducing the 
 beautiful delineations of God's image upon them, that 
 any who observe them may perceive their relation to 
 God, by the excellency of their deportment in the world; 
 as will clearly appear in the sequel of our discourse. 
 
 Having spoken of the righteous or godly man's excel- 
 lency, in regard of his birth and extraction, we proceed 
 to consider his qualities and endowments; and shall be- 
 gin with those of his understanding, his knowledge and 
 wisdom. The wise man tells us, that a man of un- 
 derstanding is of an excellent spirit. And sure, if 
 any man in the world is to be accounted of for knowl- 
 edge, it is the pious man. His knowledge is conversant 
 about the noblest objects; he contemplates that infinite 
 being, whose perfections can never enough be admired, 
 but still afford new matter to astonish and delight him; 
 to ravish his affections, to raise his wonder. He studies 
 the law of God, which maketh him wiser than all 
 his teachers. As the reverend Dr. Tillotson liath it, 
 " It is deservedly accounted an excellent piece of 
 knowledge, to understand the laws of the land, the cus- 
 toms of the country we live in; how much more to know 
 the statutes of heaven, the eternal laws of righteousness, 
 the will of the universal monarch, and the customs of 
 that country where we hope to live for ever." And, 
 if we have a mind to the studies of nature and human 
 science, he is best disposed for it, having his faculties 
 cleared, and his understanding heightened by divine con- 
 templations. 
 
 But his knowledge doth not rest in speculations, but 
 directeth his practice, and determineth his choice. And 
 he is the most prudent as well as the most knowing per- 
 
OF THE EELIGIOUS. 81 
 
 Bon. lie knows bow to secure his greatest interest; to 
 provide for the longest Ufe; to prefer solid pleasures to 
 gilded trifles; the soul to the body; eternity to a moment. 
 He knoweth the temper of his own spirit; he can mod- 
 erate liis passions, and overade his carnal appetites; 
 which certainly is a far more important piece of wisdom, 
 than to understand the intrigues of a state; to fathom the 
 councils of princes; to know the pulse of a people, or 
 balance the interest of kingdoms. Yea, piety doth 
 heighten and advance even moral pradence itself; both 
 obliging and directing a man to order his affairs with 
 discretion: it maketh the simple wise. And what was 
 said by holy David, and twice repeated by his wise son, 
 will hold good in every man's appearance, that the 
 fear of the Lord is the beghining of wisdom. And 
 thus much of the knowledge and wisdom wherein the 
 righteous man excelleth his neighbour. 
 
 We proceed to another of his endowments, the great- 
 ness of his mind, and his contempt of the world. We 
 can never take better measures of a man's spirit than 
 from the things he delighteth in, and sets his heart up- 
 on: Qualis amor, talis animus. To be taken up with 
 trifles, and concerned in little things, is an evidence of 
 a weak and naughty mind. And so are all wicked and 
 irreligious persons: their thoughts are confined to low 
 and mean things; designs of scraping together money, or 
 spending it in luxury; or of satisfying a passion or plea- 
 sing a lust; of obtaining the favour of great ones or the 
 applause of the vulgar. The greatest happiness they 
 aim at, is, to be master of the country where they live, 
 to dwell in stately houses, and to be backed with a train 
 of attendants; to lie softly, and fare deliciously, and 
 such like attainments; which a wise man would think 
 himself unhappy if he could not despise. 
 
 But the pious person hath his thoughts far above these 
 painted vanities; his felicity is not patched up of so mean 
 shreds; it is simple and comprised in one chief good: 
 his soul advanceth itself by rational passions towards the 
 author of its being, the fountain of goodness and pleasure; 
 
82 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY 
 
 He hath none in heaven but him; and there is none up- 
 on earth whom he desires beside him. 
 
 The knowledge of nature hath been reputed a good 
 mean to enlarge the soul, and breed in it a contempt of 
 earthly enjoyments. He that hath accustomed himself 
 to consider the vastness of the universe, and the small 
 proportion which the point we live in bears to the rest 
 of the world, may perhaps come to think less of the 
 possessions of some acres, or of that fame which can at 
 most spread itself through a small corner of this earth. 
 Whatever be in this, sure I am that the knowledge of 
 God, and the frequent thoughts of heaven, must needs 
 prove far more effectual to elevate and aggrandize the 
 mind. When once the soul by contemplation is raised 
 to any right apprehension of the divine perfections, and 
 the foretastes of celestial bliss, how will this world, and 
 all that is in it, vanish and disappear before his eyes.' 
 with what holy disdain will he look down upon things, 
 which are the highest objects of other men's ambitious 
 desires? All the splendour of courts, all the pageantry 
 of greatness, will no more dazzle his eyes, than the faint 
 lustre of a glow-worm will trouble the eagle, after it 
 hath been beholding the sun. He is little concerned 
 who obtained this dign'ty, or that fortune; who sits high- 
 est at table or goes first out of the door. His thoughts 
 are taken up with greater matters; how he shall please 
 his Maker, and obtain an interest in that land of prom- 
 L^^e, some of the fruits whereof he hath already tasted. 
 And from thence ariseth that constant and equal frame 
 of spirit, which the pious man's mind maintains in all the 
 changes and vicissitudes of things; while he who h.ith 
 not his spirit balanced with religious principles, is lift 
 up and cast down like a ship on the sea, with every 
 variation of fortune, and partakes perhaps of all the 
 motions of this inferior world, whereunto his heart and 
 affections are fastened. And certainly he must be far 
 more happy and generous both, who sitteth loose to the 
 world, and can with the greatest calmness and tranquil 
 lity possess his own soul, while all things without are 
 
OF THE RELIGIOUS. 83 
 
 hurry and confusion. Private disasters cannot discom- 
 pose him, nor public calamities reach him; he looks up- 
 on the troubles and combustions of the world, as men 
 do on the ruin and desolation of cities wherein them- 
 selves have little interest, with no other concernment 
 than that of pity, to see men trouble themselves and 
 others to so little purpose. Si fractus illahatur 
 orhis: If the world should shake and the foundations of 
 the earth be removed; yet would he rest secure in a 
 full acquiescence to the will of God, and confident de- 
 pendence on his providence: He shall not be afraid of 
 evil tidings: and his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord. 
 And this, by the affinity, will lead us to another en- 
 dowment, wherein the excellency of the righteous man 
 doth appear; and that is, that heroic magnanimity and 
 courage wherein he is inspired, and which makes him 
 confidently achieve the most difficult actions, and re- 
 solutely undergo the hardest sufferings that he is called 
 to. . For this see the epistle to the Hebreias, chap. xi. v. 
 33. Through faith some have subdued kingdoms ; this 
 was their active courage; ver. 35. Others again were 
 tortured, &c. this was their passive courage; which in 
 Christians is most eminent and useful. True valour doth 
 more appear by suffering than by doing; and doubtless 
 this is the hardest trial of the two. Were it not for suf- 
 fering hardships, the greatest coward in the world would 
 be man enough for the highest enterprises. It is not so 
 much the difficulty of great actions, as the danger that 
 attends them, which makes men fear to undertake them: 
 so that to suffer cheerfully must be the greatest proof of 
 courage. And sure, we may appeal to the world to pro- 
 duce such eminent instances of fortitude and resolution, 
 as Christian martyrs have shown under those torments 
 which cannot be mentioned without horror. How often 
 hath their constancy amazed their bloody persecutors 
 and outvvearied the cruelties of their tormentors! Nor 
 w;is this patience perforce: they might have saved them- 
 selves that trouble, by throwing a little incense into the 
 fii-e, or speaking a few blasphemous words; but well had 
 they learned not to fear those who can kill the body. 
 
84 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY 
 
 &c. Nor were they borne out by an obstinate humour, 
 and perverse stoical vvilfubiess: they were neither stu- 
 pid and insensible, nor proud and self-conceited: but 
 their sufferings were undertaken with calmness, and 
 sustained with moderation. 
 
 ' Let Heathen Rome boast of a Regulus, a Decius, 
 of some two or three more, stimulated by a desire of 
 glory, and perhaps animated by some secret hopes of 
 future reward, who have devoted their life to the service 
 of their country. But alas! what is this to an infinite 
 number, not only of men but even of women and chil- 
 dren, who have died for the profession of their faith; 
 neither seeking or expecting any praise from men? 
 And tell me who among the heathen did willingly en- 
 dure the loss of reputation? Nay, that was their idol, 
 and they could not part with it. And certainly it is 
 great meanness of spirit, to be overawed with fear of 
 disgrace, and depend upon the thoughts of the people. 
 True courage doth equally fortify the mind against all 
 those evils, and will make a man hazard his honour, as 
 well as other thhigs, when occasion calls for it. 
 
 Now, if the celebrated actions of the Heathens come 
 short of tme courage, what shall we say of the furioug 
 boldness of the Hectors of our age, who pretend to prow- 
 ess and gallantry by far less reasonable methods? when, 
 blinded with passion, and animated wnth wine, they are 
 ready enough, on half a quarrel, to hazard their own 
 and their neighbour's life, and soul too, in a duel? yea, 
 they will not stand to brave heaven itself, and provoke 
 the Almighty by their horrid oaths and blasphemies. 
 And one should think, that these must needs be the 
 hardiest and most valiant people in the world; if they 
 are not afraid of the Almighty, sure nothing else should 
 fright them. And yet you shall find these very persons, 
 when cast on a bed by sickness, or brought to the scaf- 
 fold by justice, to betray a miserable faintness and pusil- 
 lanimity: they are forced now to think on the terrors of 
 death, and the more terrible consequences of h; and their 
 counterfeit courage, being destitute of those props which 
 formerly sustained it, doth now discover its weakness. 
 
OF THE RELIGIOUS^ 85 
 
 Nor is it any wonder: for what should make a man wil- 
 lingly leave this world, unless he expected a more happy 
 condition in another? Certainly there is nothing can for- 
 tify the soul with a true and manly courage, but a con- 
 fidence in God and hopes of future blessedness. The 
 wicked flee when no man pursueth; but the right- 
 eous is bold as a lion ; and from that accounted more 
 excellent than his neighbour. 
 
 From courage and magnanimity we pass to that 
 which is the genuine issue and ordinary consequence 
 of it, the liberty and freedom of the righteous person. 
 Liberty is a privilege so highly rated by all men, that 
 many run the greatest hazards for the very name of it: 
 but there are few that enjoy it. I shall not speak of 
 those fetters of ceremony, and chains of state, where- 
 with great men are tied; which makes their actions con- 
 strained, and their converse uneasy: this is more to be 
 pitied than blamed. But wicked and irreligious per- 
 sons are under a far more shameful bondage: they are 
 slaves to their own lusts, and sufier the violence and 
 tyranny of their irregular appetites. This is frequently 
 talked of, but seldom considered or believed; and 
 therefore it will not be amiss to bring an instance or 
 two for the illustration of it. Observe a passionate 
 man, and you shall find him frequently transported and 
 overpowered by his anger, and carried to those extre- 
 mities, of which a little time makes him ashamed; and 
 he becomes as much displeased with himself, as formerly 
 he was with his adversary: and yet on the next occasion, 
 he will obey that same passion which he hath condem- 
 ned. What a drudge is a covetous man to his riches, 
 which takes up his thoughts all the day long, and break 
 his sleep in the night? How mixst the ambitious man 
 fawn and flatter, and cross his humour with hopes to 
 satisfy it; stoop to the ground that he may aspire, 
 courting and caressing those whom he hates; which, 
 doubtless, is done with a great violence and constraint. 
 The drunkard, when he awakes and hath slept out his 
 cups and his frolic humour, and finds his head aching. 
 
86 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY 
 
 his stomach qualmish, and perhaps his purse empty^ 
 and reflects on the folly and unhandsome expressions 
 or actions he may have fallen into in his drink, how will 
 he condemn himself for that excess? what harangues 
 shall we have from him in the praise of temperance 1 
 •what promises and resolutions of future sobriety! and 
 yet, on the next occasion, the poor slave shall be drag- 
 ged away to the tavern by those whom he must call 
 his friends; and thank them who put that abuse upon 
 him, which a wdse and sober person will rather die than 
 suffer. Further, the luxurious would fain preserve or 
 recover his health; and to this end finds it requisite to 
 keep a temperate and sober diet. No ; but he njust not. 
 He is present at a feast, and his superior appetite calls 
 for a large measure of delicious fare; and his palate 
 must be pleased, though the whole body should suffer 
 for it: or he hath met with a lewd woman; and though 
 his whole bones should rot, and a dart stril^e through 
 his liver, yet must he obey the command of his lusts: 
 He goeth after her straightway, as the ox goeth to the 
 slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks. 
 Now, there can be no greater evidence of slavery and 
 bondage, than thus to do what themselves know to be 
 prejudicial. It were easy to illustrate this bondage and 
 thraldom of the soul, in all the other instances of vice 
 and impiety: And certainly what St. Peter saith of 
 some false teachers, may be well applied to all wicked 
 persons: while they promised freedom, they themselves 
 are the servants of con-uption: for of whom a man is 
 overcome, of the same is he brought in bondage. 
 
 But the holy and religious person hath broken these 
 fetters; cast off the yoke of sin, and become the free- 
 man of the Lord. It is religion that restores freedom 
 to the soul which philosophy did pretend to: it is that 
 which doth sway and moderate all those blind passions 
 and impetuous affections, which else would hinder a 
 man from the possession and enjoymer.l of himself; and 
 makes him master of his own thoughts, motions, and 
 desires, that he may do with freedom what he judgcth 
 
OF THE R-ELICIOUS. 87 
 
 most honest and convenient. And thus the righteous 
 man excelleth his neighbour, as much as a freeman 
 doth the basest slave. 
 
 Another particular, wherein the nobleness and excel- 
 lency of religion doth appear, is in a charitable and be- 
 nign temper. There is no greater evidence of a base 
 and narrow soul, than for a man to have all his thoughts 
 taken up with private and selfish mterest; and so, if they 
 be well, not to care what becometh of the rest of the 
 world. On the other hand, an extensive charity and 
 kindness, as it is the one half of our religion, so it is an 
 eminent point of generosity. The righteous is gracious, 
 and full of compassion; he showeth favour and lendeth; 
 and makes it his work to serve mankind as much as he 
 is able. His bounty is not confined to his kindred and 
 relations, to those of his own party and mode of reli- 
 gion: this were but a disguised kind of self-love. It is 
 enough to him that they are christians; or, if they were 
 not, yet are they men; and therefore deserve our pity, 
 but not our hatred or neglect, because of their errors. 
 It is true, he carries a special kindness for those in 
 whom he discovers a principle of goodness and virtue; 
 in those excellent ones is all his delight. But then he 
 doth not take his measure so much from their judgment 
 and opinions, as from the integrity of their life, and ex- 
 actness of their practices. 
 
 His charity doth not express itself in one particular 
 instance, as that of giving alms; but is vented as many 
 ways as the variety of occasions do call for, and his 
 power can reach to. He assisteth the poor with his 
 money ; the ignorant with his counsel ; the afiiicted with 
 his comfort; the sick with the best of his skill: all with 
 his blessings and prayers. If he cannot build hospitals, 
 yet he will study to persuade those who can: if he hath 
 no money to redeem captives, yet will he employ his 
 interest in the court of heaven for their deliverance: 
 though he cannot recover a dying child to the afflicted pa- 
 rents, yet will he endeavour to persuade them to submis- 
 sion and resignation, which will render them more hap- 
 py; and will go hard, but he will find some way, either 
 
88 THE SUPEHIOR EXCELLENCY 
 
 to benefit or oblige every man with whom he convers- 
 eth. Let no man upbraid us with the contrary prac- 
 tices of many high pretenders to religion, who are 
 notedly selfish and churlish persons. We are not to 
 defend the actions of all who would be thought godly; 
 nor must you take your measures of piety from what 
 you observe in them. But look through the gospel, and 
 you shall find charity and bounty so passionately re- 
 commended, so frequently inculcated, and so indispen- 
 sably required, that you may easily conclude there are 
 no christians in earnest, but those who practise it. 
 Yea, so peculiar is this liberal and benign temper to 
 holy and religious persons, that nothing but a faint re- 
 semblance and false imitation is to be found elsewhere 
 in the world. Other men's seeming bounty is always 
 marred by the base principle it proceeds from, and sel- 
 fish end it tends to. The Apostle hath told us, that a 
 man may give all his goods to feed the poor, and yet 
 want charity; and all these expenses shall profit him 
 nothing. Importunity may perhaps wring something 
 out of his pocket, or a willingness to be delivered from 
 the trouble of a miserable spectacle, but vanity and a 
 desire of applause, have usually the greatest interest in 
 his distributions. This made the hypocrites of old pro- 
 claim their alms with trumpets; and this makes their 
 successors in our times delight to have their good works 
 of this kind recorded to the greatest advantage, that 
 posterity may read them on walls and public registers. 
 To the same principle must we refer what in the 
 world passeth for a very considerable instance of gen- 
 erosity, the keeping of a great house and well furnish- 
 ed table: which nevertheless is more ordinarily the 
 effect of pride and vain glory, than of humility or hos- 
 pitality. It is a part of their splendour and state; and 
 they deck their tables for the same end that they put 
 on fine clothes, to be talked of and admired in tbe 
 world. You may guess it by the persons wliom they 
 entertain; who are usually such as need least of their 
 charity, and for whom they have many times as little 
 lunduess or coucerumeut, as an innkeeper for liis 
 
OF THE RELIGIOUS. 39 
 
 guests; nor are they less mercenary than he; the one 
 sells his meat for money, the other for praise. Far 
 more generous is the practice of the pious man; who, as 
 he chooseth most to benefit those who can make him no 
 recompense, so he doth not trouble the world with the 
 noise of his charity; yea, his left hand knoweth not 
 what his right hand bestoweth: and that which doth 
 most endear his bounty, is the love and affection 
 whence it proceeds. 
 
 We shall name but one instance more wherein the 
 righteous man excelleth his neighbour; and that is, his 
 venerable temperance and purity. He hath risen 
 above the vaporous sphere of sensual pleasure, which 
 darkeneth and debaseth the mind, which sullies its 
 lustre, and abates its native vigour; while profane 
 persons, wallowing in impure lusts, do sink them- 
 selves below the condition of men. Can there be any 
 spark of generosity, any degree of excellency in him 
 who makes his belly his god, or places his felicity in 
 the embraces of a strumpet? We spoke before of the 
 slavery, we speak now of the deformity of these sins: 
 and shall add, that one of the most shameful and mis- 
 erable spectacles in the world, is, to see a man born to 
 the use of reason, and perhaps to an eminent fortune, 
 drink away his religion, his reason, his sense; and so 
 expose himself to the pity of wise men, the contempt 
 of his own servants, the derision of his children, — and 
 fools to every danger, and to every snare; and that 
 this must pass in the eyes of many for a piece of gal- 
 lantry, and necessary accomplishment of a gentle- 
 man. Good God! how are the minds of men poisoned 
 with perverse notions? what unreasonable measures do 
 they take of things? We may expect next they shall 
 commend theft, and make harangues to the praise of 
 parricide; for they are daily advancing the boldness of 
 their impieties, and with confidence avowing them. 
 Other ages have practised wickedness; but to ours is 
 reserved the impudence to glory in them. But would 
 men bat open their own eyes, and give way to the 
 sentiments of there own minds, they would soon alter 
 8* 
 
90 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY 
 
 their maxims, aiwi discover the miserable deformity of 
 vice, and the amiable beauty and majesty of religion; 
 that it doth at once adorn and advance the human 
 nature, and hath in it every thing generous and noble, 
 cheerful and spiritual, free and ingenuous; in a word, 
 that the righteous is more excellent than his neigtoour. 
 
 Before we proceed further, it will be necessary to take 
 off some prejudices and objections that arise against the 
 nobleness and excellency of religion. And the first is, 
 That it enjoineth lowliness and humility; which men 
 ordinarily look upon as an abject and base disposition. 
 What, will they say, can ever that man aspire to any 
 tiling that is excellent, whose principles oblige him to 
 lie low and grovel on the ground; who thinks nothing of 
 himself, and is content that all the world think nothing 
 of him? Is this a disposhion fit for any but those whose 
 cross fortune obliged them to suffer miseries and affronts? 
 Such are men's thoughts of humility, which God loves 
 so mnch, that we may say he sent his own Son from 
 heaven to teach and recommend it. But if we ponder 
 the matter, we shall find, that arrogance and pride are 
 the issues of base and silly minds, a giddiness incident 
 to those who are raised suddenly to unaccustomed 
 height; nor is there any vice doth more palpably defeat 
 its own design, depriving a man of that honour and rep- 
 utation which it makes him aim at. 
 
 On the other hand, we shall find humility no silly and 
 sneaking quality; but the greatest height and sublimity 
 of the mind, and the only way to true honour: Before 
 destruction the heart of man is haughty, and before hon- 
 our is humility. Lowliness is the endowment of high- 
 born and well-educated souls, who are acquainted with 
 the knowledge of excellent things; and therefore do not 
 doat upon trifles, or admire little things merely because 
 they are their own. They have no such high opinion 
 of riches, beauty, strength, or other the like advantages, 
 as to value themselves for them, or to despise those who 
 want them: but they study to surmount themselves, and 
 all the little attainments they have hitherto reached, and 
 are still aspiring to higher and more noblo things, Aiii 
 
OF THE RELIGIOUS. 91 
 
 h Is worth our notice, " that the most deep and pure hu- 
 milrty doth not so much arise from the consideration of 
 our faults and defects, (though that also may have its 
 own place,) as from a calm contemplation of the divine 
 perfections. By reflecting on ourselves, we may dis- 
 cover something of our own sinfulness and misery; and 
 thereby be filled with a kind of boisterous and turbulent 
 grief and indignation: but, by fixing our eyes on the in- 
 finite greatness and holiness of God, we are most fully 
 convinced of our own meanness. This will sink us to 
 the very bottom of our beings, and make us appear as 
 nothing in our own sight, when beheld from so great a 
 height." And this is really the greatest elevation of 
 the soul; and there is nothing in the world so noble 
 and excellent as the sublimity of humble minds. 
 
 Another objection against the excellency of a religious 
 temper, is, Thai the love of enemies, and pardon of inju- 
 ries, which it includeth, is utterly inconsistent with the 
 principles of honour. Now, though it be highly unreas- 
 onable to examine the laws of our Saviour by such nales 
 as this, yet we shall consider the matter a little. Nor 
 shall we seek to elude or qualify this precept, as some 
 do, by such glosses and evasions as may suit with their 
 own practices: nay, we shall freely profess, that there 
 is no salvation without the observation of it. A man 
 had even as well abandon Christianity, and renounce his 
 baptism, as obstinately refuse to obey it. But if we 
 have any value for the judgment of the wisest man and 
 a great king, he will tell us, that it is the honour of man 
 to cease from strife; and he that is slow to wrath, is of 
 great understanding. The meek and lowly person 
 liveth above the reach of petty injuries; and blunts the 
 edge of the greatest by his patience and constancy; and 
 hath compassion towards those who offend him: being 
 more sorry for the prejudice they do themselves, than 
 for that which they intended him. And let all the world 
 judge whether it be more generous to pity and love even 
 those who hate us, and to pardon the greatest offences, 
 than peevishly to quarrel on every petty occasion, and 
 malvb 5nea iear our passion, hate our humour, and aban- 
 
02 THE SUPERIOR EXCELLENCY 
 
 don our society? So that what is here brought as an ob- 
 jection against religion, might with reason enough have 
 been brought as an instance of its nobleness. 
 
 Having thus illustrated and confirmed what is asserted 
 in the text, that the righteous is more excellent than his 
 neighbour; let us improve it as a check to that profane 
 and atheistical spirit of drollery and scoffing at religion, 
 which hath got abroad in the world. Alas! do men 
 consider what it is which they m.ake the butt of their 
 scoffs and reproaches? Have they nothing else to exer- 
 cise their wit and vent their jests upon, but that which 
 is the most noble and excellent thing in the world? 
 What design can they propose unto themselves by this 
 kind of impiety? Would they have religion banished 
 from the face of the earth, and forced to retire for shame? 
 What a goodly world should we then have of it! what a 
 fine harmony and order of things! Certainly the earth 
 would then become a kind of hell, with tumults and se- 
 ditions, rapines and murders, secret malice, and open 
 frauds, by every vice and every calamity. 'Tis only 
 some little remainders of piety and virtue in the world 
 that keep it in any tolerable condition, or make it possi- 
 ble to be inhabited. And must not those be wretched 
 persons, and woful enemies to mankind, who do what 
 they can to reduce the world to such a miserable condi- 
 tion? But let them do what they will; they but kick 
 against the pricks. Religion hath so much native lustre 
 and beauty, that, notwithstanding all the dirt thev study 
 to cast upon it; all the melancholy and deformed shapes 
 they dress it in, it will attract the eyes and admiration of 
 all sober and ingenuous persons: and while these men 
 study to make it ridiculous, they shall but make them- 
 selves so. And O! that they would consider how dear 
 they are to pay for those dull and insipid jests where- 
 with they persecute religion, and those who practise it or 
 recommend it! what thoughts they are like to have of 
 them when sickness shall arrest, and death threaten 
 them, when the p^iysicians shall have forsaken them, and 
 the poor despised minister is called in, and they expect- 
 ing comfort from him they were wont to mock, and per- 
 
OF THE RELIGIOUS. 93 
 
 haps it is little he can afford them. O that they were 
 wise, and understood this, that they would consider their 
 latter end! 
 
 There are others who have not yet arrived to this 
 height of profaneness, to laugh at all religion; but do 
 vent their malice at those who are more conscientious 
 and severe than themselves, under presumption that they 
 are hypocrites and dissemblers. But besides that in this 
 they may be guilty of a great deal of uncharitableness, 
 it is to be suspected that they bear some secret dislike to 
 piety itself, and hate hypocrisy more for its resemblance 
 of that, than for its own viciousness; otherwise whence 
 comes it that they do not express the same animosity 
 against other vices? 
 
 Hitherto also may we refer those expressions which 
 sometimes drop from persons not so utterly debauched, 
 but which yet are blasphemous and profane; that this 
 man is too holy, and that man too religious, as if it 
 were possible to exceed in these things. What! can a 
 man approach too near to God? Can he be too like his 
 maker? Is it possible to be over-perfect or over-happy? 
 I confess a man may overact some parts of religion, 
 and be too much in some particular exercises of it, neg- 
 lecting other as necessary duties. But this is not an ex- 
 cess of piety, but a defect of discretion. And reason 
 would teach us rather to pardon men's infirmities for 
 their pious inclinations, than to blame piety for their in- 
 firmities. 
 
 Let me therefore entreat you all, especially those 
 whose birth and fortunes render them more conspicuous 
 in the world, to countenance holiness, which you see is 
 so excellent; and beware that you do not contribute to 
 that deluge of wickedness that overfloweth the earth, 
 by scotfing at the most serious things in the world. 
 And, if I obtain this, 1 shall make bold to beg one thing 
 more, but it is in your own favours; that you would also 
 abandon every kind of impiety in your own practice, 
 since in it every vile ruffian may vie and contend with 
 you. In other cases yon forsake modes and customs 
 vvheu they become common. Wickedness is now tlie 
 
94 THE iN-DISPENSAflLE DU'TY 
 
 most vulgar and ordinary thing in the world. Shift, 1 
 beseech you, the fashion, and embrace piety and virtue; 
 wherein none but excellent persons shall rival you* 
 Learn to adore your natOre: and think it not below you 
 to stand in awe of him who can rend the heavens, and 
 make the foundations of the earth shake; w^ho need:? 
 but to withdraw his mercies to make you miserable, or 
 his assistance to reduce you to nothing. Study to en- 
 noble your souls with solid knowledge and true wisdom; 
 with an eminent greatness of mind, and contempt of the 
 world: a great liberty and freedom of spirit; an undaunt- 
 ed magnanimity and courage ; and extensive charity and 
 goodness; a venerable temper and purity; an amiable 
 meekness and humility; so shall you render yourselves 
 honourable, and more excellent than your neighbours in 
 this world; and be partakers of immortal honour and 
 glory m the world to come. Amen. 
 
 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY OF LOVING OUR 
 ENEMIES, 
 
 LUKE VL 27, 
 
 ^ut I say unto you which hear, love your enemies. 
 While we travel through the wilderness of this 
 world, much of the comfort of our pilgrimage depends 
 on the good correspondence, and mutual services and 
 endearments of our fellow-travellers. Therefore, our 
 blessed Saviour, whose precepts are all intended for our 
 perfection and felicity, fitted to pr»ocure to us both the 
 good things of this world, and that which is to come, 
 has taken especial care to join and unite the minds of 
 men in the strictest bonds of friendship and love. He 
 hath been at great pains by his precepts and by his ex- 
 ample, by earnest persuasions and powerful motives, 
 to smoGth our rugged humours, and calm our passions. 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 99 
 
 and take ofF the roughness and asperity from oar natures, 
 which hinders us from joining and cementing together. 
 Now, were we to converse witli none bat such as aro 
 Christians in earnest, we should fiiid it no hard matter 
 to live in concord and love; we should meet with no oc- 
 casion of quarrel and contention; and should only be 
 obliged to love our friends, because all men would be 
 such. But well did our Saviour know, that his part 
 was to be small in the world; that many would oppose 
 the profession, and many more would neglect the prac- 
 tice of that religion which he taught; and that his fol-' 
 lowers, besides common injuries incident to others, 
 were to meet with much enmity and hatred for their 
 Master's sake; and therefore, that, amidst all these 
 storms, they might maintain that constant serene tran- 
 quillity, that amiable sweetness and benignity of spirit, 
 without which they could neither be like him, nor hap- 
 py in themselves, he was pleased to enjoin such an ar- 
 dent affection and charity towards all men, as no ne-- 
 gleet can cool, no injury can extinguish. To love those 
 who have obliged us, is that which nature might teach, 
 and wicked men practice; to favour those who have 
 never wronged us, is but a piece of common humanity: 
 but our religion requires us to extend our kindness even 
 to those who have injured and abused us, and who con- 
 thauc to do and Wish us mischief; and that we nevef 
 design any other revenge against our most bitter and in- 
 veterate enemies, than to wish them well, and do them 
 all the good we can, whether they will or not: for unto 
 those that hear him our Saviour saith, love your ene- 
 mies. 
 
 But, alas! how little is this minded by the greater 
 part of those who call themselves Christians. Other 
 precepts are broken and slighted, but this is industriously 
 baflled and discredited by us. In other cases we ack- 
 nowledge our fault, but study to qualify and excuse it 
 b"y the frailty of our nature, or violence of a temptation: 
 (we are all sinners; it is a fault indeed, but who can 
 help it?) Now, though these excuses, God knows, are 
 very frivolous, and will bo of no force in the great day 
 
90 THE INDISFEXSABLK DUTY 
 
 of our accounts; yet they imply something of modesty 
 and ingenuous acknowledgement, and men may repent 
 and forsake what they already condemn. But in the 
 instance of loving enemies, and pardoning otlences, 
 many tire so bold and impudent, that, instead of obey- 
 ing, they quarreJ with the law as impossible and unjust; 
 passing sentence upon that by which themseh es nmst 
 be judged. How unreasonable is it (say they) that wo 
 should love those that hate us? What congruity be- 
 tween that act and those objects! Can cold snow pro- 
 duce heat, or enmity beget aft'ection? Must we be in- 
 sensible of the injuries we meet with, or reward him 
 that offers them? JMust we dissolve the principles of 
 our nature, and cease to be men, that we may become 
 Christians? These, and such like, are either the ex 
 pressions or thoughts of too many among us! andeithei 
 Christ nnist come down in his offers, and remit some- 
 what of the rigour of his laws, or else all the promises 
 of the gojjpel, all the pleasures of the other world, shall 
 not engage them to his obedience. They will rather 
 choose to burn in eternal tiames of fury and discord, 
 than live at peace with those that have wronged them. 
 
 It can therefore never be unseasonable to press a duty 
 so very necessary, yet so niuch neglected. The text I 
 Iiave chosen for tliis purpose is very plain and clear: — « 
 Love your enemies. But, because many do strain the 
 precept to some such sense as may suit with their own 
 practice, we shall first search into the importance of it, 
 and then persuade you to perform it. The full mean- 
 ing and importance of the precept will appear, if we 
 consider, first. Who they are whom we are commanded 
 to love; and secondly, Wherein the love we owe them 
 does consist. 
 
 The persons whom we are commiinded to love, are 
 called our enemies. And lest we should mistake them, 
 they are clearly described in the following words: — The 
 fountain of their enmity is within. They are those who 
 hate us; who envy our happiness, who wish our misery, 
 and abhor our persons and society. But, were this fire 
 kept witliin their breast, it mvght well scorch themselves. 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 97 
 
 It could not prejudice us: but out of the abundance of the 
 heart the mouth speaketh; then* maUce does sharpen their 
 tongues. They are flirther described as tliose that curse 
 us; they vent their wrath in oatlis and imprecations, 
 secret calumnies, and open reproaches. Nor are their 
 hands always bound up; they use us despitefully, and 
 procure us mischief. iS'oVv', if our love must be extend- 
 ed to all these, we shall hardly find any whom we dare 
 safel}^ exclude. Of our private enemies there can be no 
 question. But what shall be said of the enemies of our 
 country, I see no warrant to exclude them from our 
 charity. We may indeed lawfully oppose their violent 
 invasion, and defend our rights with the sword, under 
 the banner of the public magistrate, to whom such au- 
 thority is committed: but all this may be done with as 
 little malice and hatred as a judge may punish a male- 
 factor; the general may be as void of passion as the 
 lord chief justice; and the soldier, as the executioner. 
 But charity will oblige a prince never to have recourse 
 to the sword, till all other remedies fail; to blunt the 
 edge of war, by sparing as much as may be the shedding 
 of innocent blood, with all other barbarities that use to 
 accompany it; and to accept of any reasonable capitula- 
 tion. 
 
 We come next to the enemies of our religion: and in- 
 deed there are many who are so far from thinking them 
 to be among the numbei- of those whom they are obliged 
 to love, that they look upon it as a part of their duty to 
 hate and malign them. Their zeal is continually vent- 
 ing itself in fierce invectives against Antichrist, and eve- 
 ry thing they are pleased to call antichristian ; and they 
 are ready to apply all the prophecies and imprecations 
 of the Old Testament, in their very prayers, against 
 those that ditler from them. And ordinarily the ani- 
 mosities are greatest where the differences are least; and 
 ©ue party of a reformed church shall be more in-censed 
 against another, than either against the superstition and 
 j;}ranny of Rome, or the carnality of the Mahometan 
 fi^ith. Yea, perhaps you may find some who agree in 
 opinion, and only differ in several ways of expressing 
 9 
 
98 THE INDISPENSABLE D^JTY 
 
 the same thing, and yet can scarce look on one another 
 without displeasure and aversion. But, alas! how much 
 do these men disparage that religion for which they ap- 
 pear so zealous, how much do they mistake the spirit of 
 Christianity! x\re the persons whom they hate, greater 
 enemies to religion, than those who persecuted the 
 apostles and martyrs for professing it? And yet these 
 were the persons whom our Saviour commanded his dis- 
 ciples to love: and himself did pray for those that cru- 
 cified him; and severely checked the disciples, when, by 
 a precedent brought from the Old Testament, tliey 
 would have called for fire from heaven on those who 
 would not receive them; telling them, They knew not 
 what spirit they were of: i. e. They did not consider 
 by what spirit they were prompted to such cruel incli- 
 nations; or, as others explain it, they did not yet suffi- 
 ciently understand the temper and genius of Christianity; 
 which is pure and peaceable, gentle and meek: full of 
 sweetness, and full of love. If men would impartially 
 examine their hatred and animosity against the enemies 
 of their religion, I fear they would find them proceed 
 from a principle which themselves would not willingly 
 own. Pride and self-conceit will make a man disdain 
 those of a different persuasion ; and think it a disparage- 
 ment to his judgment, that any should differ from it. 
 Mere nature and self-love will make a man hate those 
 who oppose the interest and advancement of that party 
 v^?hich himself has espoused. Hence men are many 
 times more displeased at some small mistakes in judg- 
 ment, than the greatest immoralities in practice! yea, 
 perhaps, they will find a secret pleasure, and wicked 
 satisfaction, in hearing or reporting the faults or scandal 
 of their adversaries. Certainly the power of religion 
 rightly prevailing in the soul, would mould us into anotlv 
 er temper: it would teach us to love and pity, and pray 
 for the person, as well as hate and condemn the errors 
 they are supposed to espouse: it would make us wish 
 their conversion rather than their confusion; and be more 
 desirous that God would fit them for another world, 
 tlmn that he would take them out of this. We may m- 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 99 
 
 deed wish the disappointment of their wicked purposes; 
 for this is charity to them, to keep them from being the 
 unhappy instruments of mischief in the world: but he 
 that can wish plagues and ruin to their persons, and de- 
 lights in their sins, or in their misery, hath more of the 
 devil than the christian. 
 
 Thus you have seen who those enemies are to whom 
 our charity must be extended. It follows to be consid- 
 ered, what is the nature of the love we owe them. I 
 shall not now spend your time in any nice or curious 
 speculations about the nature of this master-passion. It 
 is the prime affection of the soul, which gives measures, 
 and sets bounds to all the rest; every man's hatred, grief, 
 and joy, depending upon, and flowing from his love. 
 I shall now only observe to you, that there is a sensible 
 kind of love, a certain tenderness and melting affection 
 implanted in us by nature towards our nearest relations, 
 on purpose to engage us to those peculiar services we 
 owe them; and there is an intimacy and delightful union 
 between friends, arising from some especial sympathy of 
 humours, and referring to the maintenance of such cor- 
 respondences. These are not always at our command; 
 nor are we obliged to love either strangers or enemies at 
 this rale. It is not to be expected, that at first sight of 
 a person, who hath nothing singularly taking, we should 
 find such a special kindness and tenderness arising for 
 him in our hearts; much less can fondness and passionate 
 affection proceed from the sense of any harm received 
 from him. The command in the text does not amount 
 to this, ( though there be a great advantage in a tender 
 and affectionate disposition, both to secure and facilitate 
 our duty ;) but we are certainly obliged to such a sincere 
 and cordial good-will to all men, as will incline us to 
 perform all the good offices we can, even to those who 
 have offended us. But the nature and measures of this 
 love will more fully appear, if we consider what it does 
 exclude, and what it does imply. 
 
 First, then, it excludes all harsh thoughts and ground- 
 less suspicions. The Apostle telleth us, that charity 
 thiuketh no evil; that it hopeth all things, believeth ail 
 
100 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY 
 
 things. To entertain, with pleasure, every bad report 
 of those who have offended us, and to put the worst 
 construction on their doubtful actions, is both a clear 
 evidence of our hatred, and an unhappy method to con- 
 tinue it. Were once the love we recommend seated iu 
 the soul, it would soon cast out those restless jealousies, 
 sour suspicions, harsh surmises, and imbittered thoughts; 
 and display itself in a more candid and gentle disposi- 
 tion; in fair glosses, and friendly censures; in a favour- 
 able extenuation of greater faults, and covering of lesser. 
 It would make a man mterpret all things in the bfest 
 meaning they are capable of; and choose rather to be 
 mistaken to his own prejudice, by a too favourable 
 opinion, than to his neighbour's, by a groundless jeal- 
 ousy. And even in this sense it may be, that charity 
 covereth a multitude of sins. 
 
 Again, the love which we owe to enemies, excludes 
 all causeless and immoderate anger: It suffereth long, 
 and is not easily provoked; endureth all things. Our 
 Saviour tells us, that whoso is angry with his brother 
 without a cause, shall be in danger of the judgment; 
 and if his anger exceed the cause he is equally guilty. 
 All anger is not vicious; we may be angry, and not sin. 
 This passion, as all others implanted in us by God, is 
 innocent when kept within its due bounds: it has its 
 proper office in the mind, as th« spleen in the body; but 
 its excess and distemper swells into a disease. To 
 make it allowable, it must not exceed the value of the 
 cause, nor the proportion of the circumstances. It 
 must be governed by discretion, and kept within the 
 bounds of reason, that it break not forth into indecent 
 expressions, or violent and blamable actions. And 
 further, it must not be too permanent and lasting; wc 
 must not let the sun set upon our anger. Plutarch tells 
 us, that the Pythagoreans were careful to observe the 
 very letter of this precept: for if anger had boiled up to 
 the height of an injury or reproach, before sunset they 
 would salute each other, and renew their friendship; 
 they were ashamed that the same anger which had dis- 
 turbed the coimsels of the day, should also trouble the 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 101 
 
 quiet and repose of the night, lest, minghng with their 
 rest and dreams, it should become preval-ent and habitu- 
 al in them. And sure, we owe an infinitely greater 
 deference to the precepts of our blessed Saviour, and his 
 holy apostles, than they did to their master's reasoning 
 and advices. And though we should not take this pre- 
 cept in its strictest and literal signification, yet this we 
 must know, that the same passion and resentment which 
 was innocent and rational in its first rise, may become 
 vicious and criminal by its continuance. Anger may 
 kindle in the breast of a wise man, but rests only in the 
 bosom of a fool. And this will lead us to a tliird thing 
 which the precept in our text does condemn. 
 
 The love of enemies here commanded, does exclude 
 all rooted malice and rancour, proceeding from the 
 memory and resentment of injuries, after the prejudice 
 and harm sustained by them is over. Certainly there is 
 nothing more contrary to charity than a peevish rumina- 
 ting and poring on the ofl^ences we have met with; and 
 their memories are very ill employed, who seldom re- 
 member a courtesy, or forget a wrong. It is ordinary 
 for some who dare not profess intentions of revenge, to 
 express their resentment in some such threatening as this: 
 That they will forgive the injury, but never forget it, 
 I hope they do not mean, they will pass it at this time, 
 and revenge it afterward. This would but make the sin 
 the greater, by being more deliberate. Is it then that 
 they intend them no harm, but will cease to do them 
 good? This is a lame and imperfect charity; expressly 
 contradictory to the precept in the text, enjoining us to 
 bless them that curse us, to do good to them that hate us, 
 and to pray for them that despitefully use us. Nor must 
 we expect the blessing of God, if this be all we allow 
 to others; for with what measure we mete, it shall be 
 measured to us again. There is but one way we may 
 lawfully remember an injury; and that is so as to be 
 more cautious in trusting one who hath deceived us, or 
 exposing ourselves to the power of him who hath wrong- 
 ed us. In this case religion does allow and direct us to 
 join the serpent's wasdom with the dpve's jpfLOcency. 
 9* 
 
102 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY 
 
 But then, I am sure, it is neither necessary nor fit to 
 threaten those who have wronged us, with our resolu- 
 tions to remember the injury. We may be as cautious 
 as we please without it; and those threats do nothing 
 but rankle and displease our adversary, which ought to 
 be no part of a Christian's design. A meek and char- 
 itable person will be loth to have his memory infested, 
 and his thoughts soured with resentment of wrongs; and 
 if they occui to his mind, he will make no other use of 
 them than to put himself on his guard; unless from 
 thence he take occasion to benefit and oblige the person 
 who has offended him, and, as our text expressly directs, 
 to do him good, to bless and pray for him. 
 
 Again, this precept does exclude and prohibit the 
 taking or procuring any revenge. By revenge, we mean 
 such a simple evil done to our adversary, as does bring 
 no real benefit or reputation to ourselves. For certainly 
 it is not unlawful to seek the reparation of our own 
 right by an authorised judge, nor yet to provide for the 
 public security by the punishment of offenders, unless 
 some special circumstance makes it so. This may many 
 times be done without prejudice or hatred, yea, with 
 great kindness and compassion towards the person of the 
 offender. But, if we have any charity or love to our 
 adversaries, we shall be really afliicted with the evils 
 that befalls them ; and therefore will never willingly pro- 
 cure ourselves that trouble by inflicting it on them. It 
 is evidence of a wicked and malicious humour, to please 
 ourselves in the misery of another, or delight in an evil 
 that brings us no good. Whatever latitude the Jews 
 either had or pretended to, it is not lawful for us to de- 
 sire eye for eye, or tooth for tooth, unless we could say, 
 that his eye would serve our head, or his hand fit our 
 arm, or his pain allay our torment, which he had pro- 
 cured to us. 
 
 From hence we may judge what is to be thought of 
 those who are ready to revenge the smallest injury, even 
 an uncivil expression, with the death of the offender; 
 never bemg satisfied till they have ventured two lives, 
 and as many souls, in the combat; a tiling which should 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 103 
 
 not be named among Christians, but with the same de- 
 testation we have against the vilest actions; for whatever 
 colours of bravery or gallantry it may be painted with, 
 it is really nothing else than a more specious and formal 
 kind of murder. Nor does it differ from the basest 
 assassination, save only in this, with the wickedness of 
 attempting another's life it joins the rashness and folly of 
 exposing our own. 
 
 Lastly, the love which we owe our enemies, does ex- 
 clude all supercilious and scornful contempt and neglect 
 i)f them. Which I mark the rather, because some 
 think they have sufficiently obeyed the precept, if they 
 overlook an injury, as thinking the person below their 
 revenge. Meanwhile, their corrupt nature relishes as 
 much pleasure in the scorn and disdain of their enemies, 
 as it could in the revenge of the injury: their wicked hu- 
 mours are not staned, but only change their diet. Of 
 this nature was the answer of the philosopher, to some 
 who incited and provoked him to revenge, 'If an ass kick 
 me, shall I kick him again?' This is but a lame and 
 misshapen charity ; it hath more of pride than goodness. 
 We should learn of the holy Jesus, who was not only 
 meek, but lowly. We should contemn the injury, and 
 pity the weakness, but should not disdain or despise the 
 persons of our enemies. Charity vaunteth not herself, 
 is not puffed up, doth not behave herself unseemly. 
 
 Having thus discovered those things which are incon- 
 sistent with charity, and excluded by the love of ene- 
 mies, it remains that we show what it does import and 
 require. 
 
 First, then, it imports an inward kindness and affec- 
 tion ; which, if it does not amount to that passionate 
 tenderness which we have for our near relations and in- 
 timate friends, yet it implies a good will towards them, 
 and friendly concernment in their interest. If we love 
 an enemy, we shall wish his welfare, and rejoice in it, 
 and be nnfeignedly sorry for any disaster that befalls 
 him; so far shall we be from rejoicing in his misfortunes. 
 And certainly had we a right sense of things, we should 
 be more troubled for the harm which our enemy does to 
 
104 THE IXDISPENSABLE DUTY 
 
 his own soul by wronging us, than for the prejudice we 
 sustain by him: our compassion towards him would di- 
 minish, if not altogether swallow up the resentment of 
 what we suffer from him. 
 
 But our kindness and good will towards our enemies 
 must not rest in empty wishes, but express itself in kind 
 words and friendly actions. When we speak to onr 
 enemy, it must be in such smooth, discreet, and oblige 
 ing terms, as are most like to mollify and gain him, that 
 by soft answers we may turn away his wrath, and shun 
 all grievous words, which stir up anger. When we 
 speak of him, it should be as advantageously as we can 
 with truth, concealing or qualifying his faults, and prais- 
 ing whatever is good in him. And sure he must be sin- 
 gularly bad in whom we can find nothing to commend. 
 
 Again, we must perform for them all those good offi- 
 ces which their necessities call for, and our power can 
 reach. Do good to them that hate you. If our enemy 
 hunger, we must feed him; if he thirst, we must give 
 him drink; so shall we heap coals of fire upon his head, 
 to mollify his obdurate temper, and overcome his evil 
 by our good; but not to aggravate his guilt and punish- 
 ment, as some mistake the words: for though that be 
 many times the issue, yet ought it not to be any part of 
 our design. 
 
 Lastly, because all that we can do for the good of 
 enemies, signifies little, we must employ our interest in 
 the court of heaven in their behalf, begging of God that 
 he would turn their hearts to himself and to us, and bless 
 them with the pardon of all their sins, particularly the 
 wrongs they have done to ourselves, and with all things 
 necessary for their present welfare, or future happiness. 
 Pray for them that despitefully use you. And this is 
 the surest evidence of our charity to them. Mild words 
 may be designed as a snare to entrap them, and courtesy 
 may be done them to serve our vanity, or a generous 
 kind of pride; which may make us delight to have our 
 enemy indebted to us, as knowing that it is more glori- 
 ous in the eyes of the world to raise a fallen adversary 
 ^han to frample on him. But it must be only obedienc3 
 
OF LOVIXG OUR ENEMIES. 105 
 
 to God's commands, and sincere love to our enemy, 
 vvhicli can make us take hiin into our closet, and into 
 our heart; to share our prayers with him, and make him 
 partake of the fruits of our devotion; and to have that 
 same concernment for his interests as for our own, at 
 once recommending them both to our heavenly Father. 
 By this time I hope you understand the importance 
 of this precept of our Saviour, Love your enemies: it 
 remains, that we exhort you to the performance. And 
 I shall begin with an argument, which may be of force 
 to give the first assault to our rebellious inclinations, and 
 make way for further and more mild persuasions, and it 
 shall be the indispensable necessity of the duty. We 
 must not look upon this as a matter which we may do 
 or omit at pleasure; nor yet as a counsel of perfection, 
 highly conunendable, but not absolutely necessary to 
 salvation. It is as indispensably required as any other 
 duty of our religion; and he who resolves not to obey 
 in this instance, may renounce his baptism, and abandon 
 Christianity. None can escape the obligation of the 
 precept, unless he be so rarely happy as to have no en- 
 emies; nor must any think to redeem themselves from 
 this by some other performance. Let our opinions be 
 never so orthodox, and our zeal in maintaining them nev- 
 er so fervent; let our prayers be never so frequent, and all 
 our discourses ravishing; let our other attainments be nev- 
 er so great, and our confidence of our salvation never 
 so strong; yet, if we refuse to obey this precept, we are 
 none of Christ's disciples; or, in the words of the Apos- 
 tle, we may say. Though I speak with the tongues of men 
 and angels; though I have the gift of prophecy, and un- 
 derstand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I 
 bestow all my goods to feed the poor; yea, although I 
 give my body to be burned, and have not this charity and 
 love, even to mine enemies, it profiteth me nothing. 
 And our Saviour himself tells us in express terms, that 
 unless we forgive others their trespasses, neither will 
 God forgive us ours. Yea, he hath taught us to pray for 
 pardon, in such terms as imports a dreadful curse upon 
 j^urselves, if we are malicious and revengeful, while we 
 
106 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY 
 
 beg God would pardon us in the same manner that we 
 pardon those who sin against us; subscribing, as it were, 
 with our own hands, and confirming out of our own 
 mouths, that sentence which shall be pronounced 
 against us; for even so will God forgive us, i. e. he 
 will take vengeance on us, if we have dealt so with oth- 
 ers. And as those who do not love their enemies, do 
 beg their own condemnation in prayer; so also they eat 
 and drink it in the holy sacrament. And men are com- 
 monly so far convinced of this, that many choose to keep 
 back from the table of the Lord, that they may more free- 
 ly entertain their animosities. But, alas! what a folly and 
 madness this is! Think they to excuse a sin by the neg- 
 lect of a duty? Or can they put ofTdeath, as they do the 
 participation of the sacrament? Or can they hope to be 
 admitted into the eternal enjoyment of God, if they should 
 die in that malice, which renders them unfit to approach 
 imto him in that holy ordinance? Do not deceive your- 
 selves: never shall any enter into those blessed mansions, 
 those regions of peace and love, whose heart is not first in- 
 spired with charity, and softened into a compliance with 
 this very precept. And it were as absurd, to think that a 
 man may be malicious and revengeful all his days, and yet 
 go to heaven, there to learn meekness and charity, as to 
 think that a man may be luxurious and dishonest in this 
 world, and become temperate, and honest, and happy in 
 the other. In a word, whatever shifts we may make to 
 deceive ourselves, the command is clear and express, 
 the sanction severe and peremptory; we have but our 
 choice of these two, love of enemies, or damnation. 
 
 Nor can this seem unreasonable to any who considers, 
 that God is the author of our natures, the creator of all 
 our faculties may justly rule our inclinations, and dispose 
 of our love and aft'ection: and yet he is content (if I may 
 so speak) to bargain with us, and to buy ofi'our natural, 
 or rather wicked resentments; offering us his own mer- 
 cy and favour, freedom from hell, and everlasting hap- 
 piness, on this, amongst other conditions, that we love 
 our enemies. 
 
 Nay, farther, the duty in itself is so reasonable, that 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 107 
 
 the more sober of the Heathens j who had nothing above 
 reason to teach them, have acknowledged it, if not aa 
 necessary, yet as highly becoming, and an eminent in- 
 stance of a virtuous and generous mind. Plato could 
 say. That injury is by no means to be done, nor to be 
 repaid to him that has done it. And when a malicious 
 person said to Zeno, Let me perish, if I don't do yoa 
 a mischief; his answer was. Let me perish if I don't 
 reconcile thee to me. Antoninus tells us frequently, 
 That all reasonable creatures are born for one another; 
 and that it is the part of justice tO bear with others: 
 That it is through ignorance they offend us, as not 
 knowing the right way to their own happiness; and 
 therefore we should rather instruct them better than 
 hate them: That the best kind of revenge is, not to be- 
 come like them in wickedness and malice. And many 
 other excellent arguments does that royal philosopher 
 bring to the same purpose. And Plutarch gives this as 
 one of the reasons why God is so slow in punishing 
 wicked persons, that we may learn meekness and pa- 
 tience by his example, adding that excellent observation. 
 That our greatest happiness and perfection consists in 
 the imitation of our maker. 
 
 But to leave the testimonies of heathens, the obliga- 
 tion of this precept of loving our enemies may be 
 deduced from another, which every man will acknowl- 
 edge to be highly reasonable, the doing to others what 
 we would have done to ourselves. Every one of us 
 desires to be loved and cherished by others; to have our 
 faults pardoned, our failings overlooked, and our neces- 
 sities supplied. Or, if any be so haughty and stubborn, 
 that they disdain a courtesy from an enemy ; yet I hope 
 there is none so mad, but he desires the favour of God; 
 whose hatred he deserves infinitely more, than his most 
 bitter enemy can deserve his. How then can we think 
 it unreasonable, to allow that to others, which ourselves 
 expect and desire? Can we look that our master should 
 forgive us ten thousand talents, if we take our fellow- 
 eervant by the throat, and hale him into prison for one 
 
108 THE INDISPEISrsABLE DrXY 
 
 pardon our sins, unless we be willing to add, that we par- 
 don those who sin against us? Certainly, if it be rea- 
 sonable to seek pardon, it is just and equal to give it; and 
 nothing but blind selfishness, and extravagant partiality, 
 can teach us to make so unreasonable a ditTerence be- 
 tween ourselves and others. 
 
 Again, the reasonableness of this duty will farther 
 appear, if we compare it with that malice and revenge 
 which it does oppose. Can there be any thing more 
 against natural reason, than to delight in an evil which 
 can bring no benefit to us? Yet this is the very nature 
 and essence of revenge: for, if the damage we sustain 
 can be repaired, it is no revenge to seek it; and, if it 
 cannot, it does no way alleviate the evil of the accident, 
 that we draw him tliat caused it into as great a misery; 
 nay, ixnless we are unnatural, and without bowels, it 
 will augment our trouble to see any evil befall him. 
 And he is a miserable person indeed, whose delight ia 
 in mischief, whose good is the evil of his neighbour. 
 Yea, I may say, that he who returns an injury, is many 
 times more unreasonable than he who offered it: for he 
 who first wrongs another, hath commonly some tempta- 
 tion of advantage by it; which revenge cannot pretend 
 to. But if he has done it out of mere malice, yet he is 
 not worse than the other who returns it; there being as 
 much fantastic pleasure in spite, as in revenge: both are 
 alike miserable and extravagant. 
 
 And who are they against whom we bend our malice 
 and revenge? Are they not men, partakers of the same 
 nature, descended from the same stock with ourselves, 
 fellow-citizens with us in this world, and with whom we 
 should hope to live forever in a better? and should we not 
 bear much with those who are so nearly related to us? 
 IVay more, they are the workmanship of God's hands, 
 and for any thing we know, either are, or may become 
 his children and friends: and dare we pretend any love 
 to God, if we do not spare them for his sake? And 
 Jastly, if thoy have done us any real wrong, they are in 
 BO far foolish, and destitute of reason: and who would 
 quarrel with a madman? Certainly an injurious person 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 109 
 
 knows not what he is doing, for he can never wound his 
 neighbour but througli his own sides, nor prejudice anoth" 
 er in a trifling interest, without hazarding his own eter- 
 nal concernment; and therefore he deserves our pity- 
 rather than our hatred. 
 
 Much more might be brought to demonstrate the 
 reasonableness of what our Saviour calls for in the 
 text: but I hope what has been already said may suffice 
 to stop the mouths of malicious and revengeful men^ 
 who are ready to quarrel with it. And, if this or any 
 other duty seem absurd or unreasonable to us, we may 
 learn the cause from the apostle, The carnal man re- 
 ceiveth not the things of the Spirit of God ; for they are 
 foolishness unto him. It is the carnality of our heart 
 that makes it seem so: and therefore, instead of disput- 
 ing the duty, let us endeavour to purify our souls, and 
 open the eyes of our mind; and we shall find it to be 
 true, which wisdom said of her doctrines. They are all 
 plain to him that understandeth, and right to them that 
 find knowledge. 
 
 But, in the third place, the love of enemies is not 
 only necessary and reasonable, but also amiable and 
 delightful; it has a great deal of pleasure and sweetness 
 in it. Of this, I confess, the greatest evidence must be 
 had from the experience and practice of it; the nature 
 even of earthly pleasures being such, that only the en- 
 joyment can make a man know them. But though the 
 full knowledge hereof require a nearer acquaintance, 
 yet even those who look at a distance may perceive 
 something of amiableness in it, especially comparing it 
 with the trouble and uneasiness of that vice it would 
 deliver us from. Malice and revenge are the most 
 restless and tormentmg passions that can possess the 
 mind; they keep it in continual hurry and disorder; 
 they gnaw a man's heart with anguish and vexation, 
 and imbitter all his enjoyments; they mar the pleas- 
 ures of the day, and interrupt the repose of the night. 
 Solomon describes these men. They sleep not except 
 they have done mischief; and their sleep is taken away 
 except they cause some to fall. 
 10 
 
no THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY 
 
 On the other hand, the meek and peaceable man, 
 whose mind is brought to a compliance with this pre- 
 cept, is above the malice of his enemies. It is not in 
 their power to vex him. Amidst all the assaults of in- 
 juries and affronts, he is firm as a rock, which no winds 
 can shake; no waves remove. He is happy in the 
 calmness and serenity of his spirit ; and is sure either to 
 convert or shame his adversary by his patience and 
 friendly behaviour. And then the consciousness of 
 performing his duty, and assurance of future reward, 
 afford him infinitely more pure and solid pleasure and 
 delight, than any can expect by uidulging and gratify- 
 ing their vengeful humour. 
 
 The advantages of this duty will more clearly ap- 
 pear, when we take a view of those prejudices which 
 commonly are entertained against it; which shall be 
 our next work. 
 
 First, then, some cry out upon this precept as enjoin- 
 ing impossibilities: doing violence to the very constitu- 
 tion of nature, and obliging men to a debt that no man 
 is able to pay. They will tell you that it is as easy to 
 hate ourselves, as to love our enemies; to love pain, as 
 to bear an injury meekly: flesh and blood cannot endure 
 it. What arrogance and presumption is this, thus to 
 impeach the divine laws. It is impossible; therefore 
 God should not have commanded it. Such is their 
 reasoning. Were it not far more rational to argue 
 thus: It is indispensably commanded, therefore it must 
 needs be possible. And so it has been to all good men 
 that ever lived; and so it will be, by God's assistance, to 
 all that make it their study. Flesh and blood cannot 
 do it. True enough; but then take this into the ac- 
 count. Flesh and blood shall never enter into the king^ 
 dom of heaven. It is indeed against the propension of 
 our coPTupt nature; but it is the work of (Christians to 
 mortify their corruptions. And if we think it impossi- 
 ble, at the command of God, and for the purchase of 
 heaven, to love an enemy, and pardon an injury, how 
 would we bear those hard trials which Christians have 
 sufiercd by tl>e cruelty of persecutors? Whether it is 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. Ill 
 
 easier to suffer a wrong, or to give our body to be burn- 
 ed? Certainly, when we have obeyed this^ precept, we 
 have not yet resisted unto blood; and therefore that 
 obedience can never be impossible, since harder things 
 may be expected from us. Therefore seriously set 
 about the work, and endeavour to bring your mmds to 
 a compliance with it; and then your own experience 
 shall confute these idle pretences, and evince the possi- 
 bility of the performance. 
 
 Another prejudice against this precept, is. That it 
 seems to encourage injuries, by hopes of impunity and 
 reward; giving the delinquent occasion to expect kind- 
 ness and love, instead of the punishment which he de- 
 sei-ves; and so we should draw upon ourselves a second 
 injury by not requiting the first. 
 
 But we have already told you, that this precept does 
 not forbid the exercise of justice by those to whom the 
 sword is committed, when the public security calls for 
 it. As a parent may at once love and conect his child, 
 so may a judge be in charity with the person he 'does 
 punish. And though it should be granted, that, by 
 pardoning injuries, we do expose ourselves to new ones; 
 yet would this amount to no more, but that we may 
 suffer hardships by our obedience to God; which I hope 
 is not enough to dispense with our duty. But truly the 
 matter goes not commonly thus: for if we consult either 
 our own observation, or the experience of others, we 
 shall fuid, that meek and charitable persons are most 
 seldom exposed to injuries, or engaged in troubles. He 
 must needs be a desperately wicked person, who will 
 offer a second injury to one who hath requited the first 
 with kindness and love. Such a sweet disposition will 
 mollify the hardest hearts, and charm the most froward 
 humours; especially if we carry ourselves with such 
 prudence and discretion, as may testify that we are ac- 
 tuated by a noble and generous charity, and not by a 
 stupid insensibility. How often does a soft answer turn 
 away wrath? and the overlooking of an injury prevent 
 farther trouble, throwing water upon the spark before it 
 break forth into a flame? Hence, if we look upon meek 
 
112 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY 
 
 and quiet persons, wc shall ordinarily find them appy 
 in the peace of their families, and favour and kindness 
 of all their neighbours: whereas the angry, quarrelsome, 
 and malicious person, is an eyesore to all about him; 
 his neighbours shun him, his servants dread him, and 
 all abhor and avoid him. And therefore the observa- 
 tion of this precept of our Lord, is so far from exposing 
 us to new injuries, that by the mercy of God it will 
 prove the best means to secure our tranquillity. Peace 
 shall be the reward of a peaceable temper. 
 
 But, lastly, some will tell us, that the love of ene- 
 mies and pardoning injuries, is inconsistent with the 
 principles of honour; and will expose us to contempt 
 and derision. But, alas! to what a sad pass are we 
 come, if neither reason nor religion may prescribe the 
 rules of honour ; if our notions of it must be taken from 
 the language of the sons of Belial, of strife and violence, 
 if to imitate the Deity in his most glorious attribute of 
 mercy and forgiveness, and become perfect as our Fath- 
 er which is in heaven is perfect, be accounted a base 
 and dishonourable thing; and if from this vain, imagina- 
 ry, fantastic shadow of reputation, we will violate all 
 laws, human and divine, and forfeit eternal happiness. 
 But who are they that will think the worse of you for 
 your patience? Some vain empty fools, some profime 
 atheistical wretches, whose judgments are not valuable, 
 nor their praise worth the having. Or what can they 
 say of you, but that you are meek and lowly, imitators 
 of that blessed master whom we profess to serve? And 
 why do we own the name of Christians, if we be asham- 
 ed of the spirit and life of Christianity? "Why do w^e not 
 call ourselves after the name of Cain, Nimrod, or some 
 other angry and revengeful destroyer, if we esteem those 
 qualities more glorious and excellent? But if we have 
 any deference for so wise a man and great a king as Solo- 
 mon, he will tell us, that it is the honour of a man to 
 cease from strife; and that he that is slow to anger is 
 better than the mighty; and he who' ruleth his spirit, 
 better than he who takcth a city. 
 
 Thus you see how um-easonable those prejudices are 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 113 
 
 which keep men from the practice of this necessary duty. 
 It remains now, that we hint at some helps for the per- 
 formance of it. 
 
 The heathens were pretty ingenious in devising mo- 
 tives of patience. They would tell us, that if we were 
 newly offended, it was too soon to resent it; if long time 
 since, it was too late. If the offender be too strong for 
 us, it were folly to contend; if he were too weak, it 
 were a shame. Are we offended by a friend, 'et us 
 remember our old friendship; if by an enemy, let us do 
 him a kindness, and he will do so no more. Bat Chris- 
 tianity will direct us to better means for composing the 
 soul into the meelmess and charity which it does re- 
 quire. 
 
 The first I shall recommend, is humility. Let us 
 learn to have low thoughts of ourselves; and then we 
 shall have both fewer enemies, and be more inclined to 
 love them. Pride and selfconceit makes us overrate 
 every petty injury, and inclines us to revenge: but if we 
 consider what poor contemptible things we are in our- 
 selves, and what we have desersed, if not from men, 
 yet from God, whose instruments they are for our cor- 
 rection, we shall be little concerned at what the world 
 calls affronts, and easily reconciled to those who have 
 wronged us. 
 
 Secondly, let us learn to have a low esteem of the 
 present world, and all things therein; and this will cut 
 off the occasions of our hatred and animosities. Men 
 may wrong us in our fortune or reputation, but they 
 cannot rob us of piety and virtue, of the favour of God, 
 and eternal happiness. And therefore, if our minds be 
 once raised above those transitory vanities, we cazmot 
 meet with injuries worth the resentijig. If we aim at 
 heaven, and the glory of another world, we shall not 
 stand to quarrel and contend about anv trifling interest 
 in our way thither. 
 
 Thirdly, the frequent and serious tnoughts of deaths 
 
 would conduce much to allay our hatred, and dispose us 
 
 to meekness and charity. Naturalists tell us, that when 
 
 swarms of bees fight in the air, they are dispersed by 
 
 10* 
 
114 THE INDISPENSABLE DUTY 
 
 throwing dust among them. Did we in our thoughts 
 often reflect upon that dust whereunto we must all short- 
 ly return, we should more easily lay down our quan-els, 
 and animosities. Wliile we contend about small things, 
 little do we consider that death is coming on apace, and 
 will swallow up the victor and the vanquished; him that 
 is in the right, and him that is in the wrong. Look 
 back upon the private contentions, or public commo- 
 Jions, which infested the world an hundred years ago. 
 Where are they who managed them? They are all gone 
 down into the dark and silent giave. Death hath decid- 
 ed their controversies, and within a few days it will do 
 so with ours, and send us all to plead our cause before 
 our great judge; and it will go ill with us, if we appear 
 there in malice. Therefore, why should our hatred be 
 long, since our life is so short? One would think we 
 should find better employment for the short time we 
 have to spend here. 
 
 But, lastly, and above all, let us propose to ourselves 
 the blessed example of the holy Jesus, who, when he 
 was reviled, reviled not again; when he suffered, he 
 threatened not; but committed himself to him that judg- 
 eth righteously. 
 
 Let us frequently remember what great things he 
 hath done and sufl^ered for us poor sinful wretches; even 
 while we were enemies and rebels to him ; how that in 
 all the passages of his life, and all the bloody scene of 
 his sufferings, he was actuated by that same charity and 
 love to his enemies which he calls for at our hands. 
 It was this which moved him to descend from heaven, 
 and clothe himself with the frailties of our nature, and 
 endure the troubles of a calamitous life, and the pains 
 of a bitter death, to deliver us from that eternal misery 
 whereinto we had plunged ourselves. And may not his 
 goodness and mercy to us, mollify our hearts, and over- 
 power the corruption of our revengeful nature, and in- 
 spire us with earnest desires and resolutions to imitate 
 his blessed example? After all that he hath done and 
 suffered for us, can we be guilty of such a shameful in- 
 gratitude as to deny him this poor satisfaction and ac- 
 
OF LOVING OUR ENEMIES. 115 
 
 knowledgement, to pardon an enemy for his sake? Has 
 he died for us when we were his enemies, and shall we 
 refuse to live at peace with ours? Remember with what 
 patience he endured the contradiction of sinners against 
 himself; with what humility he did condescend to wash 
 the feet of that wicked miscreant, who was at the same 
 time resolved to betray him; with what mildness he did 
 bear the supine negligence and stupidity of his disciples 
 ■who slept in the time of his agony. What charity and 
 meekness did he evidence towards those who sought his 
 life! He could have called for legions of angels to des- 
 troy them, or made the earth to open her mouth and 
 swallow them up: but he would not employ his miracu- 
 lous power, save only for their good, restoring a ser- 
 vant's ear, and reproving the preposterous zeal of him 
 who cut it off. Yea, while he hung upon the cross, 
 and was approaching to the gates of death, all the crael 
 pains of body and far more intolerable pressure of spirit 
 which he then sustained, did not lessen his wonderful 
 tenderness and affection for his bloody murderers: Fath- 
 er, forgive them, for they know not what they do. 
 Let us be frequent and serious in the meditation of these 
 things. And if we have any veneration for the example 
 of our Saviour, and any sense of his infinite mercy, this 
 will dispose us to the practice of his precepts, and the 
 obedience of his laws; and particularly the observation 
 of this necessary, this reasonable, and delightful duty, 
 that we love our enemies. 
 
116 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANT-AGE 
 
 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE OF EARLY 
 AFFLICTIONS. 
 
 . LAM. III. 27, 28. 
 
 It is good for a man that he hear the yoke in his 
 youth. He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, be- 
 cause he hath borne it upon him. 
 The great difference and contrariety between the 
 maxims of the world, and those which religion doth pro- 
 pose, is in nothing more obsers^able than in taking the 
 measures of happiness and felicity. The world account- 
 eth him a happy man w-ho enjoyeth a perpetual calm and 
 sunshine of prosperity ; w^hose pleasant and joyful days 
 are never overcast with any cloud, nor his tranquillity 
 interrupted by any disastrous accident; and who was 
 never acquainted with any other change, but that which 
 brought him the new and fresh relish of succeeding 
 pleasures and enjoyments. But religion hath taught us 
 to look upon this as a condition full of danger; much 
 more to be pitied than envied; to be feared than to be 
 desired. It hath taught us to consider aflliclions as in- 
 stances of the divine goodness, as tokens and pledges 
 of his love; (for whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth, 
 and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth;) and that 
 these severe dispensations are very necessary, and may 
 prove useful and advantageous: Blessed is the man 
 (saith the Psalmist) whom thou chasteneth, O Lord, 
 &c. : It is good for me that I have been afflicted; that 
 I may learn thy statutes. And the Prophet in the text. 
 It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. 
 He was at this time loaded with the heaviest weight of 
 trouble and sorrow, what for the public calamities of 
 his nation, and what for his own particular suffcrhigs: 
 His eyes were running down with rivers of water, for 
 
OF EARLY AFFLICTION. 117 
 
 the destructions of the daughter of his people; they 
 trickled down, and ceased not. Judah was gone into 
 captivity because of affliction: she dwelt among the 
 Heathen, and found no rest; all her persecutors overtook 
 her in the straits. The ways of Zion did mourn, be- 
 cause none came to the solemn feasts; the young and 
 the old were lying on the ground in the streets; the vir- 
 gins and young men were fallen by the sword, and the 
 few that remained were starving for hunger. The peo- 
 ple did sigh, and seek bread; they gave their pleasant 
 things for meat to relieve their soul; the children and 
 sucklings did swoon in the streets, their soul was poured 
 out into their mother's bosom; the women did eat their 
 fruit, their children of a span long. And the Prophet 
 had a large share in these calamities, both by his own 
 interest, and his compassion towards his neighbour: I 
 am the man (saith he) that hath seen affliction by the 
 rod of his wrath. Surely against me is he turned; he 
 turneth his hand against me all the day. 
 
 But after he had thus bemoaned himself, and given 
 some vent to his passion and sorrow, he puts a stop to 
 the current that was grown too impetuous, and turns 
 his thoughts another way. He acknowledgeth the jus- 
 tice of God's dispensations; and that it was a favour they 
 suffered no more: This I recall into my mind, therefore 
 have I hope. It is of the Lord's mercies that we are 
 not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They 
 are new every morning. Nay, when he had further 
 pondered the matter, he finds himself indebted to the 
 goodness of God, even for the afflictions he endured: It 
 is good for a man, &c. 
 
 The bearing of the yoke is an easy and obvious met- 
 aphor, importing the restraint of liberty, when our de- 
 sires are denied, and we have not our wills; cannot 
 ramble up and down as we please; and also the pressure 
 of afflictions which gall and torment us, under which we 
 smart and groan. Such is the yoke which the prophet 
 tells us it is good for a man that he bear. A strange 
 doctrine indeed to flesh and blood! and O how few do 
 believe it ! We judge of things by their outward appear- 
 
118 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE 
 
 ance, and as they affect us at present, (now no afflic- 
 tion or chastening seemeth for the present to be joyous, 
 but grievous;) and we cannot persuade ourselves that 
 there is any good in that which we feel to be troublesome 
 and unpleasant. But, if we consult our reason and our 
 faith, they will soon bring us to the acknowledgement of 
 this truth, That affliction cometh not forth of the dust, 
 neither doth trouble spring out of the ground. The 
 crosses we meet with, are not the effects of blind chance; 
 but the results of a wise and unerring providence, which 
 knoweth what is fittest for us, and loveth us better than 
 we can do ourselves. There is no malice or envy lodg- 
 ed in the bosom of that blessed being, whose name and 
 nature is love. He taketh no delight in the troubles 
 and miseries of his creatures: He doth not afflict willing- 
 ly, nor grieve the children of men. It were infinitely 
 unworthy of his wisdom and goodness, to please himself 
 in seeing such poor creatures as we are, tossed up and 
 down in the world, to behold our anguish, and hear our 
 groans. It is our happiness and welfare which he de- 
 signs in all his dispensations; and he maketh choice of 
 the most proper and effectual means for that end. He 
 Beeth us wandering out of the way, ready to ruin and un- 
 do ourselves; and first he essayeth to reduce us by mild- 
 er and more gentle methods: he trieth our gratitude and 
 ingenuity, by all the endearments of mercy and good- 
 ness; he draweth us with the cords of love, and with 
 the bands of a man. But if we break all these bands 
 asunder, and cast away these cords from us; if we abuse 
 his goodness, and turn his grace into wantonness; then, • 
 not only his justice, but his love to us, not only his ha- 
 tred to sin but his affection unto us, will oblige him to 
 alter his method, and take the rod in his hand, and try 
 what severity can do. God's design in afflicting us is 
 excellently expressed by the author to the Hebrews, 
 chap. xii. ver. 10. He chasteneth us for our profit, that 
 we may be partakers of his holiness. Holiness is the 
 highest perfection and greatest happiness we are capable 
 of: it is a real participation of the divine nature, the 
 image of God drawn on the soul; and all the chastise- 
 
OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 119 
 
 ments we meet with, are designed to reduce ns to this 
 blessed temper, to make us like unto himself; and there- 
 by capable to be happy with him to all eternity. This 
 will more clearly appear, if we reflect on the natural 
 temper of our minds, and the influence which prosper- 
 ous or adverse fortune is wont to have upon them. 
 
 And, first, we are naturally proud and self-conceited; 
 we have a high esteem of ourselves, and would have 
 every body else to value and esteem us. This disease 
 is very deeply rooted in our corrupt nature: it is ordina- 
 rily the first sin that bewrays itself in the little actions 
 and passions of children; and many times the last which 
 religion enables us to overcome. And such is the ma- 
 lignity of its nature, that it renders us odious and vile 
 both in the sight of God and man. It cannot but be in- 
 finitely displeasing to that great and glorious Majesty, 
 to see such silly creatures whom he hath brought forth 
 out of nothing, and who are every moment ready to re- 
 turn into it again, and have nothing of their own but fol- 
 ly, and misery, and sin; to see such creatures I say, 
 either so blind as to value themselves, or so unreason- 
 able as to desire others to value them. Good men must 
 needs hate us for it, because God doth so; and evil men 
 hate us for it, because they are proud themselves, and 
 so are jealous of the attempts of others to exalt them- 
 selves, as of that which tendeth to depress and diminish 
 them. Pride alone is the source and fountain of almost 
 all the disorders in the world; of all our troubles, and 
 of all our sins: and we shall never be truly happy, or 
 truly good, till we come to think nothing of ourselves, 
 and' be content that all the world think nothing of us. 
 Now, there is nothing hath a more natural tendency to 
 foment and heighten this natural corruption, than con- 
 stant prosperity and success. The Psalmist, speaking 
 of the prosperity of the wicked, who are not in trouble 
 as others, neither are they plagued like other men, pres- 
 ently subjoineth the eflect, Therefore pride compasseth 
 them about as a chain. Sanctified afflictions contribute 
 to abate and mortify the pride of our hearts, to prick the 
 swelling imposthume, to make us sensible of our weak- 
 
120 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE 
 
 ness, and convince us of our sins. Thus doth God open 
 the ears of men, and seal their instruction, that he may 
 withdraw man from his purpose, and hide pride from 
 man. And if they be bound in fetters, and be holden 
 in cords of affliction; then he showeth them their work, 
 and their transgressions that they have exceeded. Af- 
 flictions do both put us on the search to find out the of- 
 fences wherewith we have provoked God, and make us 
 more sensible of the heinousness and malignity of their 
 nature : 1 have surely heard Ephraim bemoaning himself 
 thus. Thou hath chastised me, and I was chastised, as a 
 bullock unaccustomed to the yoke: turn thou me, and I 
 shall be turned; for thou art the Lord my God. Surely 
 after I was chastised, I repented; and after I was in- 
 structed, I smote upon my thigh: I was ashamed, yea, 
 even confounded, because I did bear the reproach of 
 my youth. 
 
 Another distemper of our minds, is our too great affec- 
 tion to the world and worldly things. We are all too 
 apt to set our hearts wholly upon them; to take up our 
 rest, and seek our happiness and satisfaction in them. 
 But God knows, that these may well divert and amuse a 
 while, they can never satisfy or make us happy; that the 
 souls which he made for himself, can never rest, till 
 they return unto him: and therefore he many times find- 
 eth it necessary, either to remove our comforts, or im- 
 bitter them unto us; to put aloes and wormwood on the 
 breasts of the world, that thereby we may wean our- 
 selves from it, and carry them to the end of their being, 
 the fountain of their blessedness and felicity. The few 
 and little comforts of this life, (saith a person of great 
 quality and worth,) notwithstanding all the troubles and 
 crosses with which they are interlarded, are apt to keep 
 the hearts even of good men in too great love of this 
 world. What would become of us, if our whole life 
 should be altogether prosperous and contenting, without 
 any ititermixture of crosses and afflictions? It is too prob- 
 able we should never look any father; but conclude, 
 with Peter on the mount of transfiguration. Lord, it ia 
 good to be here. As Almighty God bath a very great 
 
or EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 121 
 
 afffection to us, so he is very desirous of our love; not 
 that it bringeth any advantage to him, but because it is 
 our greatest happiness and perfection. He bestoweth 
 his mercies to gain our hearts; but, when we begin to 
 doat on the gifts, and forget the giver, he becomes jeal- 
 ous, and takes them away, that he may not have any 
 rival in our affection. And certainly it is no small advan- 
 tage to have our hearts in any measure loosened from 
 the world, disentangled from every thing here below. 
 Quocunqne pretio bene emitur: He makes a good 
 purchase who obtains it, let it cost him never so dear. 
 
 Another bad effect which prosperity is wont to pro- 
 duce in our corrupt nature, is, that it makes us forgetful 
 of God, and unthankful of his mercies. When second 
 causes answer our expectations and desires, we are sel- 
 dom wont to look beyond them: we never regard the 
 fountain till the cisterns begin to fail. This it was that 
 made Agur to pray against a plentiful fortune, lest I be 
 full, and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? W^hen 
 the weather is fair, and the sails are filled with a pios- 
 perous gale, the rough and stubborn mariners are seldom 
 at their devotion; but when the storm is risen, and the 
 sea begins to swell, and every wave threateneth to de- 
 vour them: then they cry to the Lord in their trouble, 
 as on him who can alone deliver them out of their dis- 
 tress. The Psalmist speaking of their stiff-necked and 
 rebellious predecessors, tells us, that when God slew 
 them, then they sought him; and they remembered that 
 God was their rock, and the high God their redeemer. 
 In their affliction (saith the Lord by the Prophet) they 
 will seek me early. I doubt not a great many devout 
 persons will acknowledge, that it was some affliction or 
 other that first taught them to pray. And as afflictions 
 contribute to make us remember our dependence on 
 God, and then excite us to seek unto him; so also they 
 render us more sensible of our obligations unto him, and 
 more thankful for the mercies he hath bestowed on us. 
 We are so dull and insensible, that we seldom value 
 any of the divine mercies, till we find what it is to want 
 them. We put verv little value on our food and rai 
 
 n 
 
122 THE NECESSITY AND ADVAJfTAGB 
 
 ment, and the ordinary means of our subsistence, un- 
 less we have been sometimes pinched with want. Vv"e 
 consider not how much we are indebted to God lor pre- 
 serving our friends, till some of them be removed from 
 us. How little do we prize our health, if we have never 
 had experience of sickness or pain! Where is the man 
 who doth seriously bless God for his nightly quiet and 
 repose? And yet, if sickness or trouble deprive us of it, 
 w^e then fmd it to have been a great and valuable mer- 
 cy, and that it is God who giveth his beloved sleep. 
 
 Once more, prosperity rendereth us msensible of the 
 miseries and calamites of others. Those who were at 
 ease in Zion, did not grieve for the afflictions of Joseph. 
 But afflictions do soften the heart, and make it more 
 tender and kindly; and we are always most ready to 
 compassionate those griefs which ourselves have some- 
 time endured: the sufferings of others make the deepest 
 impressions upon us, when they put us in mind of our 
 own. It is mentioned as a powerful motive to engage 
 the children of Israel to be kind and merciful to stran- 
 gers, that they knew very well the heart of a stranger, 
 having been strangers themselves in Egypt. Now, this 
 tender and compassionate temper doth w^ell become a 
 Christian, whose duty it is to weep with those that weep 
 and to have as deep a sense and feeling of the griefs of 
 others, as he is wont to have of his own. 
 
 These and many more advantages do sanctified and 
 well-improved afflictions bring to a Christian; on the 
 account of which it is good for him that he hath borne 
 the yoke. But I hasten to that which is mentioned in 
 the text. Only by the way (that I may not need to 
 return) let me take notice of the season which is here 
 mentioned as the fittest for a man to bear affliction: It 
 is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. 
 
 We are all willing to put off the evil day; and, if we 
 must needs bear the yoke, we would choose to have it 
 delayed till we grow old. We think it sad to have our 
 morning overcast with clouds, to meet with a storm be- 
 fore we have well launched forth from the shore. We 
 are wont to indulge and applaud children and young 
 
OF EARLY AFFLICTIOXS. 123 
 
 folks In their frolics and jovial humours; and tell them, 
 they will have time enough for cares and troubles when 
 they grow older: w^e turn that irony of Solomon's into a 
 serious advice, Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, 
 and walk in the ways of thy heart, and the sight of thine 
 eyes. But the divine wisdom, which knoweth what is 
 fit for us, doth many times make choice of our younger 
 yeai;s, as the most proper to accustom us to the bearing 
 of the yoke. And a little consideration will make us 
 discover the advantages of this season for suffering afflic- 
 tions; they being at that time most necessary, most tol- 
 erable, and most advantageous. First, I say, they are 
 then most necessary. For youth is the time of our life 
 wherein we are in greatest danger to run into wild and 
 extravagant courses: our blood is hot, and our spirits 
 unstaid and giddy; we have too much pride to be gov- 
 erned by others, and too little wisdom to govern our- 
 selves. The yoke is then especially needful to tame 
 our wildness, and reduce us to a due staidness and 
 composure of mind. Then also it is most supportable. 
 The body is strong and healthful, less apt to be affected 
 with the troubles of the mind; the spirit stout and vig- 
 orous, will not so easily break and sink under them. 
 Old age is a burden, and will soon faint under any 
 supervenient load. The smallest trouble is enough co 
 bring down gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. And 
 therefore, since we must meet with afflictions, it is cer- 
 tainly a favourable circumstance, to have them at the 
 time of our life wherein we are most able to endure 
 them. And, lastly, the lessons which afflictions teach 
 us, are then most advantageous when we learn them 
 betimes, that we may have the use of them in the con- 
 duct of our after lives. An early engagement into the 
 ways of religion is a great felicity; and the means where- 
 by this is to be effected can never be too soon adminis- 
 tered. Youth is more soft and pliable; and evil disposi- 
 tions are more easily cured, before time and custom 
 have hardened us in them. A tree needs little force to 
 be^id it when it is young; and there needeth the less of 
 the rod, if the child be brought under discipline betimes. 
 
124 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE 
 
 And thus on many accounts it is good for a man to bear 
 the yoke in his youth. 
 
 We proceed to the particular advantage of afflictions 
 which is mentioned in the text: He sitteth alone and 
 keepeth silence, because he hath borne it upon him. 
 The words are capable of a twofold interpretation, and 
 both suit well with the purpose: for we may either un- 
 derstand them properly, of solitude and silence; or met- 
 aphorically, of patience and quiet submission; both of 
 which are the good effects of sanctified and well-im- 
 proved afflictions: and accordingly we shall say some- 
 thing to both. Nature hath made us sociable creatures; 
 but corruption hath carried this inclination unto excess; 
 so that most persons think it an intolerable burden to 
 be any considerable time alone. Though they love 
 themselves out of measure, yet they cannot endure their 
 own conversation; they had rather be hearing and dis- 
 coursing of the most naughty and trivial things, than be 
 sitting alone and holding their peace. Outward pros- 
 perity heightens this humour. When the heart is dila- 
 ted with joy, it seekeih to vent itself in every company. 
 When a man is free of trouble and cares, he thinks of 
 nothing but how to please himself with variety of diver- 
 sions and conversations. Crosses, on the other hand, 
 lender a man pensive and solitary; they stop the mouth, 
 and bind up the tongue, and incline the person to be 
 much alone. Sadness makes his company disagreeable 
 to others, and he fiudeth theirs as little agreeable to him: 
 He sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath 
 borne it upon him. Thus the same prophet said, I sat 
 not in the assembly of the mockers, nor rejoiced: I sat 
 alone because of thine hand. 
 
 Now, he who considers, on the one hand, the guilt 
 we are wont to contract, and the prejudice which we 
 sustain, by too much conversation with others, and, on 
 the other hand, the excellent improvement we may 
 make of solitude and retirement, will account it a good 
 effect of afflictions, that they incline and dispose us unto 
 it In considering the evils of frequent conversation, 
 we are not to prosecute the grosser and more scandaloua 
 
OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 125 
 
 vices of the tongue. It might seem a poor commenda- 
 tion of solitude and silence, that a man is not swearing, 
 or lying, or scolding, or talking profanely when he is 
 alone: a man may converse enough, and keep himself 
 free from these. We rather choose to mention such 
 evils as are wont to be less noticed, and can be more 
 hardly avoided. 
 
 And, first, experience may teach us all, that much 
 conversation doth ordinarily beget a remissness and dis- 
 solution of spirit; that it slackeneth and relaxeth the bent 
 of our minds, and disposeth us to softness and easy com- 
 pliances. We find it hard enough at any time to com- 
 pose our spirits to that staidness and severity which 
 religion doth require: but if we be too much in company 
 with others, it is almost impossible to maintain it. 
 That cheerfulness and complaisance which is judged 
 necessary to render conversation agreeable, doth easily 
 degenerate into levity and sin: and we are very ready 
 to displease our maker, when we are too intent on 
 pleasing our friends. This loose frame and dissipation 
 of mind, which society doth occasion, made a good 
 man complain. Ex hominimi consortia semper venio 
 minus hofno: that he always came out of company 
 less a man. 
 
 Another prejudice we receive by society, is, that it 
 fills our minds with noxious images, and fortifies our 
 corrupt notions and opinions of things. Our hearts are 
 naturally too much addicted to the things of the world; 
 we mind them too much, and put too high a value up- 
 on them: and the discourses we hear redouble the temp- 
 tation, by bringing them continually into our thoughts, 
 and setting them off to the greatest advantage. When 
 we are alone in a sober temper, and take time to reflect 
 and consider of things, we are sometimes persuaded of 
 the vanity and worthlessness of all those glittering trifles 
 whereunto the generality of mankind are so sadly be- 
 witched: but when we come abroad, and listen to the 
 common talk, and hear people speak of greatness, and 
 riches, and honour, with concern and admiration, we 
 quickly forget our more sober and deliberate thoughts, 
 H* 
 
126 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE 
 
 and suffer ourselves to be carried away with the strea'm 
 of the common opinion. And though the effects be 
 not so sudden and observable, yet these discourses are 
 still making some secret and insensible impressions, 
 upon us. 
 
 Thus also is our judgment corrupted about the qual- 
 ities and endowments of the mind. Courage and gal- 
 lantry, wit and eloquence, and other accomplishments 
 of this nature, are magnified and extolled beyond all 
 measure; whereas humility, and meekness, and devo- 
 tion, and all those Christian graces which render a soul 
 truly excellent and lovely, are spoken of as mean and 
 contemptible thmgs: for though men have not the impu- 
 dence formally to make the comparison, and prefer the 
 former; yet their very air, and way of discoursing about 
 these things, sufficiently testifies their opinion. With 
 what affection and concernment will they represent a 
 gallant or learned man; but how faintly do they utter 
 the character of a good man! And so, in censuring 
 men's failings, they exaggerate the smallest instances of 
 weakness or imprudence, but speak lightly enough of the 
 greatest crimes. Drunkenness and whoredom are men- 
 tioned in such terms as express little sense of their hei- 
 nous nature; and tend to lessen the horror we should 
 have of them. Ambition and revenge, and such other 
 plausible vices, are rather allowed than condemned. 
 And while we converse in the world, and are accustom- 
 ed to such representations of things, our judgments are 
 thereby exceedingly corrapted, and we entertain false 
 and pernicious maxims. And so hard it is to guard 
 ourselves against the contagion, that we had better eit 
 alone and keep silence, thiin be continually exposed to 
 the temptation. 
 
 I shall mention but another of those evils wherewith 
 our conversation is commonly attended. The most or- 
 dinary subject of our entertainments are the faults and 
 follies of others. Itur in verba, serino seritur, vita 
 aliena, descrihitur: We meet and talk, and fall to 
 describe the life and deportment of others. Were this 
 one theme of discourse discharged, we would oft-times 
 
OF EARLY AFFLICTI0iN-f3. 127 
 
 find but little to say. I scarce know any fault whereof 
 good persons are so frequently guilty, and so little sen- 
 sible. They know perhaps the things are true, and 
 ihey have no malicious design in reporting them; they 
 tell them only as they do the public news, to divert 
 themselves, and gratify their friends. But, would we 
 consult our own hearts, and apply the great rule of 
 righteousness, of doing unto others as we would be 
 done unto ourselves, we should soon be convinced of a 
 great deal more guilt and sinfulness in such discourses 
 than we are wont to apprehend. How ill do we take 
 it to have our own failings thus exposed, and to hear 
 that any person hath made as bold with us as we are 
 wont to make with others? Again, how loth would we 
 be, that the persons of whom we speak so freely, should 
 overhear our discourse, or be informed of it? Now, if 
 the practice had nothing blamable in it, why should we 
 be so shy to avow it? 
 
 I have only hinted at these things: but he who shall 
 seriously ponder them, will acknowledge, there is no 
 little prejudice even in those entertainments which pass 
 for very innocent in the world; and that he shunneth 
 much guilt and many snares who sitteth alone and 
 keepeth silence. But solitude and retirement do not 
 only deliver us from these inconveniences, but also 
 afford very excellent opportunities for bettering our 
 souls. Those hours we mispend in needless visits and 
 idle talk, if rightly improved, might set us a great way 
 forward on our journey to heaven. While we are too 
 busy in making or entertaining acquaintance with men, 
 we many times fall out of acquaintance both with God 
 and ourselves. 
 
 The most profane and irreligious persons will find 
 some serious thoughts rise in their minds if they be 
 much alone. And the more that any person is advanc- 
 ed in piety and goodness, the more will he delight in 
 retirement, and receive the more benefit by it. Then 
 it is that the devout soul takes its highest flight in di- 
 vme contemplations and maketh its nearest approaches 
 to God. I find the vulgar Latin rendereth the words 
 
128 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE 
 
 of the text, Sedebit solitarius et tacebit, quia levaiiit 
 se supra se: The solitary person will sit still and hold 
 his peace, because he hath lifted up himself above him- 
 self: raised his spirit above his ordinary pitch. In soli- 
 tudine (saith one of the fathers) aer j^urior, cesium 
 apertius, familiarior Deus: In solitude we breathe, 
 as it were, in a purer air, heaven is more open unto us, 
 and God is more familiar and frequent in his visits. To 
 which purpose some have applied that of the Prophet 
 Hosea, Behold I will allure her, and bring her into the 
 wilderness, and there speak comfortably unto her; or, 
 as the original importeth, I will speak unto her heart. 
 That rule which our Saviour giveth for our devotion, to 
 enter into our closet, and shut the door behind us, is as 
 necessary to preserve us from distraction, as from vanity 
 and ostentation. When we have retired as much as we 
 can from the world, we do still carry too much of it 
 along with us. The images of things do sufficiently 
 persecute and disturb us, though we be not exposed to 
 the objects themselves. Our blessed Saviour thought 
 not the mountains and deserts retired enough for his de- 
 votions; but would add the darkness and silence of the 
 night. Little doth the world understand those secret 
 and hidden pleasures which devout souls do feel, when, 
 having got out of the noise and hurry of the world, they 
 sit alone and keep silence, contemplating the divine 
 perfections, which shine so conspicuously in all his 
 works of wonder; admiring his greatness, and wisdom, 
 and love, and revolving his favours towards themselves; 
 opening before him their griefs and their cares, and dis- 
 burdening their souls into his bosom; protesting their 
 allegiance and subjection unto him, and telling him a 
 thousand times that they love him; and then listening 
 unto the voice of God within their hearts, that still and 
 quiet voice, which is not wont to be heard in the streets, 
 that they may hear what God the Lord will speak: for 
 he will speak peace unto his people, and to his saints, 
 and visit them with the expressions of his love. No 
 wonder if those blessed souls who have tasted the pleas- 
 ures of holy retirement, and found themselves, as it 
 
OF EARLY AFFLICTIONS. 129 
 
 were, in the suburbs of heaven, grow weary of com- 
 pany and affairs, and long for the returning of those 
 happy hours, as the hirehng for the shades of the eve- 
 ning: no wonder they pity the foolish busy world, who 
 spend their days in vanity, and know not what it is 
 indeed to live. 
 
 But here I would not be mistaken, as if I recommend- 
 ed a total and constant retirement, or persuaded men 
 to forsake the world, and betake themselves unto des- 
 erts. No, certainly; we must not abandon the stations 
 wherein God hath placed us, nor render ourselves use- 
 less to mankind. Solitude hath its temptations, and we 
 may be sometimes very bad company to ourselves. It 
 was not without reason that a wise person warned 
 another, who professed to delight in conversing with 
 himself. Vide ut cum homine probo: Have a care that 
 you be keeping company with a good man. Abused 
 solitude may whet men's passions, and irritate their lusts, 
 and prompt them to things which company would re- 
 strain. And this made one say, that he who is much 
 alone, must either be a saint or devil. Melancholy, 
 which inclines men most to retirement, is often too 
 much nourished and fomented by it; and there is a 
 peevish and sullen loneliness, which some people afl^ect 
 under their troubles, whereby they feed on discontented 
 thoughts, and find a kind of perverse pleasure in refus- 
 ing to be comforted. But all this says no more, but 
 that good things may be abused ; and excess or disorder 
 may turn the most wholesome food into poison. And 
 therefore, though I would not indifferently recommend 
 much solitude unto all; yet, sure, I may say, it were 
 good for the most part of men that they were less in 
 company, and more alone. 
 
 Thus much of the first and proper sense of sitting 
 alone and keeping silence. We told you it might also 
 import a quiet and patient submission to the will of 
 God; the laying of our hand on our mouth, that no ex- 
 pression of murmur or discontent may escape us. I 
 was dumb, said the Psalmist, I opened not my mouth; 
 because thou didst it. And the Prophet describeth our 
 
130 THE NECESSITY AND ADVANTAGE, &C. 
 
 Saviour's patience, that he was oppressed, and was af- 
 flicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he was brought 
 as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before the 
 shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. Indeed 
 a modest and unaffected silence is a good way to ex- 
 press our submission to the hand of God under atflic- 
 tions. The Heathen moralists, who pretend much to 
 patience, could never hold their peace; but desired al- 
 ways to signalize themselves by some fetches of wit, 
 and expressions of unusual courage. But certainly the 
 mute and quiet Christian behaveth himself much better. 
 Loc quacissimum illud silentiian: That eloquent and 
 expressive silence saith more than all their vain and 
 Stoical boastings. We cannot now insist in any length 
 on this Christian duty of patience, and submission to 
 the will of God; we shall only say two things of it, 
 which the text importeth. First, that this lesson is 
 most commonly learned in the school of afilictions: He 
 sitteth alone and keepeth silence, because he hath borne 
 it upon him. In that forecited place of .Teremiah xxxi. 
 18. Ephraim bemoaning himself, acknowledgeth that he 
 had been as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke; which 
 maketh the greater reluclancy against it. Children that 
 are much indulged, are the more impatient if they come 
 to be crossed; and there is too much of the child in us 
 all. The Apostle tells us, that tribulation worketh pa- 
 tience. Custom makes every thing more tolerable un- 
 to us; and if it please God to sanctify the first stroke, 
 the second is received with the greater submission. The 
 other thing I have to say on this duty, is, that this ad- 
 vantage of afflictions is very great and desirable; that it 
 is indeed ver)'^ good for a man to have borne the yoke 
 in his youth, if he hath thereby learned to sit alone 
 and keep silence when the hand of the Lord is upon 
 him. There is nothing more acceptable unto God, no 
 object more lovely and amiable in his eyes, than a soul 
 thus prostrate before him, thus entirely resigned unto his 
 holy will, thus quietly submitting to his severest dispen- 
 sations. Nor is it less advantageous unto ourselves; but 
 sweeteneth the bitterest occurrences of our life, and 
 
A SMALL NUMBER SAVED 131 
 
 makes us relish an inward and secret pleasure, notwith- 
 standing all the smart of affliction: so that the yoke be- 
 comes supportable, the rod itself comforts us; and we 
 find much more delight in suffering the will of God, 
 than if he had granted us our own. Now, to this God 
 who loveth us, and correcteth us for our profit, that we 
 may be partakers of his holiness, and thereby of his 
 happiness; to God the Father, Son, and blessed Spirit, 
 be all honour, praise, and glory, now and for ever. 
 Amen. 
 
 THAT THERE ARE BUT A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 
 
 LUKE XIII. 23. 
 
 Then said one unto him. Lord, are there few that 
 be saved? And he said unto them, 4*c. 
 Those who have so much charity and goodness as 
 to be nearly touched with the interests of mankind, can- 
 not but be more especially concerned about their ever- 
 lasting condition; and very anxious to know what shall 
 become of poor mortals when this scene is over, and 
 they cease to appear on the stpf^e of the world, being 
 called off to give an account of their deportment on it. 
 And, seeing we are assured that there are different, and 
 very opposite estates of departed souls, some being ad- 
 mitted into happiness, and others doomed to misery, 
 beyond any thing that we can conceive; this may put 
 them upon farther inquiry, how mankind is like to be 
 divided? whether heaven or hell shall have the greater 
 share? Such a laudable curiosity as this it was, that put 
 one of our blessed Saviour's followers to propose the 
 question in the text. Lord, are there few that be saved? 
 Our Saviour had been lately foretelling the great success 
 the gospel should have; how, like a little leaven that 
 quickly fermenteth the ^vhole lump it is put into, Chris- 
 
183 THAT THERE ARE BUT 
 
 tiaml;y should soon propagate itself through the world, 
 and many nations embrace the profession of it. This 
 disciple, it seems, was desirous to know, whether the 
 efficacy should be answerable to the extent? whether it 
 should take as deep root in the hearts of those that 
 owned it, as it was to spread itself far and wide on the 
 face of the earth? in a word, whether the greatest part 
 of men were to be saved by it? I called this a laudable 
 curiosity; and there is reason to think it so, since our 
 Saviour himself, who best knew the occasion and im- 
 portance of it, doth not check, but satisfy the inquiry; 
 which he was wont to do when the questions were use- 
 less or blamable. Those who inquired into the time 
 of the general judgment, received no other account, 
 but that it was inter arcana imperii; among those 
 secrets which God reserved for himself. And, again, 
 when they asked of the time that the kingdom should 
 be restored unto Israel, he tells them roundly, it was not 
 for them, it concerned them not at all to know such 
 things as those. But here, as the question seems to 
 have proceeded from a zeal to the honour of God, and 
 concernment in the happiness of mankind ; so the reso- 
 lution of it might be very useful: and accordingly it is 
 improved by our Saviour; who at once resolves th© 
 doubt, and presseth a very weighty exhortation, in the 
 following words. Strive to enter in, &c. We are not 
 at this time to prosecute the whole importance of this 
 latter verse; for that we refer you to an excellent ser- 
 mon, entitled. The way to happiness. We shall only 
 consider the answer which is implied in it to the fore- 
 going question; to wit, that the number of those who 
 are to be saved is really small. 
 
 It is on this point we design to fix our meditations at 
 this time. And indeed there is scarce any doctrine that 
 needeth to be more inculcated: for, amongst all the 
 stratagems whereby the great enemy of mankind doth 
 plot and contrive their ruin, few are more unhappily 
 successful, than the fond persuasion he hath filled 
 them with, that heaven and everlasting happiness are 
 easily attainable. What one saith of wisdom, Multi 
 
A SMALL NUMBER SAVKD. 133 
 
 ad sapientiam pervenissent nisi putassent se per- 
 venisse, we may, with a little alteration, apply unto 
 this purpose ; That many might have reached heaven, if 
 they had not been so confident of it. The doors of the 
 Christian church are now very wide, and men have 
 access unto them upon easy terms: nay this privilege 
 descends unto men by their birth, and they are reckon- 
 ed among Christians before they come well to know 
 what it means. The ordinances and mysteries of our 
 religion are common to ail, save those whom gross igno- 
 rance or notorious crimes do exclude. There are no 
 marks on the foreheads of men whereby we can judge 
 of their future condition : they die, and are laid in their 
 graves, and none cometh back to tell how it fareth with 
 them; and we desire to think the best of every particu- 
 lar person. But, whatever charity be in this, there is 
 little prudence in the inference that many draw from it, 
 who think that they may live as their neighbours do, 
 and die as happily as they; and, since the greatest part 
 of men are such as themselves, heaven must be a very 
 empty place if all of them be debarred. Thus perhaps 
 you have seen a flock of sheep on a bridge, and the 
 first leapeth over, and the rest, not knowing what is be- 
 come of those that went before, do each of them follow 
 their companions into that hazard or ruin. Interest and 
 self-love do so strongly blind the minds of men, that 
 they can hardly be put from the belief of that which 
 they would very fain have trae. Hence it is, that, 
 notwithstanding of all we are told to the contrary; the 
 opinion of the broadness of the way that leads to hea- 
 ven, and the easy access unto it, is still the most epi- 
 demic, and I think the most dangerous heresy. Many 
 of the commonalty are so ignorant as to avow it; and 
 the strange security of more knowing persons doth as 
 loudly proclaim it. I know he undertakes an unwel- 
 come errand, who goes about to dispossess the minds 
 of men of such a pleasant and flattcing error. But 
 what shall we do! Shall we suffer them to sleep on and 
 take their rest, till the everlasting flames awake them? 
 Shall we draw their blood on our heads, and involve 
 12 
 
1S4 thJlt there are ettt 
 
 ourselves in their ruin, by neglecting to advertise them 
 of their hazard? No, my friends: duty doth oblige us, 
 and the holy Scriptures will warrant us to assure you, 
 that there are very few that shall be saved; that the 
 whole world lieth in wickedness; and that they are a 
 Irttle flock to whom the Father will give the kingdom. 
 
 That this certain, though lamentable truth may take 
 the deeper impression On our minds, we shall first pro- 
 pose some considerations for the better understanding 
 what great things are required in those who look for 
 everlasting happiness, and then reflect on the actions 
 and ways of men; that, comparing the one with the 
 other, we may see how little ground of hope there is 
 for the greatest part to build on. 
 
 First, then, consider the nature of that divine Majesty, 
 whose presence and enjoyment it is that makes heaven 
 desirable; and think how inconsistent it is with his infi- 
 nite holiness, to admit impure and impenitent sinners 
 into the habitation of his glory. Certainly he is of purer 
 eyes than to behold evil, and cannot look on iniquity. 
 He is not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness: 
 neither shall evil dwell with him. The foolish shall not 
 stand in his sight. It is strange what conceptions fool- 
 ish men entertain of Almighty God, who imagine, that 
 those who have been all their days wallowing in sin, 
 shall be admitted into an everlasting fellowship with 
 him. Sooner shall light and darkness dwell together^ 
 and heat and cold in their greatest violence combine, 
 and all contrarieties of nature be reconciled. Can two 
 walk together except they be agreed.^ Can there be any 
 converse between those whose natures suit so ill to- 
 gether? Sure they who think to come so easily by happi- 
 ness, must imagine God altogether such a one as them- 
 selves; else they could never hope that he would choose 
 them, and cause them approach unto him. But O how 
 widely shall they find themselves mistaken, when he 
 shall reprove them, and set their sins in order before 
 them: and they shall find to their confusion, that he is 
 a consuming fire to all the workers of iniquity! Men 
 are wont to frame a notion of God according to their 
 
A. SMALL NUMBER SAVED. . 135 
 
 own wishing, as if he were but an empty name: and 
 this is the common shelter against every convincing re- 
 proof. But this temerity shall at length sufficiently coiv- 
 fute itself, and feel that justice which it will not believe. 
 There is not strife among the attributes of God, that 
 one of them shall swallow up another. Mercy is open 
 to all that forsake their sins, but justice shall seize on 
 those who continue in them. That compassion which 
 made God to give his dearest Son for the redemption 
 of mankind, will never prevail for the pardon and de- 
 liverance of any impenitent sinner. Abused goodness 
 will certainly turn into fury; and infinite mercy, being 
 despised, shall bring down upon sinners all the dreadful 
 effects of an omnipotent vengeance. 
 
 Consider, secondly, what that happiness is which 
 every body doth so confidently promise to themselves; 
 and see whether it be likely that it should be so easily 
 attained. Glorious things are everywhere spoken of 
 that heavenly Jerusalem; and all that is excellent or de- 
 sirable in this world, is borrowed to shadow it forth in 
 the holy Scriptures: we are told of crowns, and king- 
 doms, and treasures, and rivers of pleasure, and foun- 
 tains of living waters, and of an exceeding eternal 
 weight of glory. 
 
 But all these do not suffice to convey into our minds 
 any full apprehension of the happiness we expect; and, 
 after all that can be said, it doth not yet appear what 
 we shall be. These metaphors and allegories serve but 
 to assist our minds a little, and give us some confused 
 apprehensions of the things eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard; nor can it enter into the heart of men to conceive, 
 what God hath prepared for them that love him, said 
 that beloved disciple that lay in the bosom of our Sa- 
 viour. Can we then expect that so glorious a prize shall 
 be gained without any labour? Shall such a recompense 
 be bestowed on those who never were at any pains 
 about it? What toil and travail doth it cost a man to 
 gather together that white and yellow earth which they 
 call money? With what care and pains do others ascend 
 to &ny degree of preferment? What industry and study 
 
196 THAT THERE ARE BUT 
 
 do men empley to reach a little knowledge, and be 
 reckoned amongst the learned? And shall heaven and 
 everlasting happiness slide into our arms when we are 
 asleep? No, certainly. God will never disparage the 
 glories of that place, to bestow them on those who have 
 not thought them worthy of their most serious endeav- 
 ours. But as the greatness of that happiness may justly 
 discourage all the lazy pretenders to it, so the nature of 
 it leaves small ground of hope to the greatest part of 
 the world. I wonder what most men do expect to meet 
 with in heaven, who dream of coming thither. Think 
 they to feast and revel, and luxuriate there, and to 
 spend eternity in foolish mirth, and vain talk; in sport 
 and drollery, and sensual pleasure; which are all the 
 exercises they are capable of, or find relish or satisfac- 
 tion in? Away with all those Turkish notions, whereby 
 we disparage the happiness we pretend to. The joys 
 of that place are pure and spiritual, and no unclean 
 thing shall enter there. The felicity of blessed spirits 
 standeth in beholding and admiring the divine perfec- 
 tions, and finding the image of them shining in them- 
 selves, in a perfect conformity of the will and nature 
 of God, and an intimate and delightful society and 
 communion with him: and shall such souls be blessed 
 in seeing and partaking of the divine likeness, who 
 never loved it, and would choose any thing rather than 
 to converse with him? A little reflection on the com- 
 mon temper of men's minds may assure us, that they 
 are very far from that meetness and aptitude for the 
 inheritance of the saints in light which the Apostle 
 speaks of. The notion and nature of blessedness must 
 sure be changed, or else the temper of their spirits: 
 either they must have new hearts, or a new heaven 
 created for them, before they can be happy. It is a 
 strange infatuation of self love, that men in the gall of 
 bitterness should think it is well with their souls, and 
 fancy themselves in a case good enough for the enjoy- 
 ment of divine pleasures. 
 
 In the fourth place. Let us reflect on the attempts 
 and endeavours of those who have gone to heaven be- 
 
A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 137 
 
 fore us; how they did fight and strive, wrestle and run, 
 for obtaining that glorious prize; and we shall see how 
 improbable it is, that the greatest part of men should 
 come by it with so little pains. Noah, Abraham, Ja- 
 cob, David, and all those ancient worthies recorded in 
 holy writ, have either done or suffered so great things, 
 as gave ground to expect that country they looked after, 
 accounting themselves strangers and pilgrims on the 
 earth; as you may see in the 11th chapter of Hebrews: 
 where, after a large catalogue of their performances, 
 the author tells us of others, who were tortured, not 
 accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better 
 resurrection. And others had trial of cruel mockings, 
 and scourgings, yea moreover, of bonds and imprison- 
 ment. They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, 
 w^ere tempted, were slain with the sword: they wander- 
 ed about in sheep-skins, and goat-skins; being destitute, 
 afflicted, tormented: of whom the world was not wor- 
 thy. They wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and 
 in dens and caves of the earth. Such also was that 
 holy violence wherewith the Christians of the first and 
 golden ages did force open the gates of heaven, and 
 took possession of it. The ardent affection wherewith 
 these blessed souls were inflamed towards their maker 
 and redeemer, made them willingly give up their bodies 
 to be burned in the fire, for the glory of God, and the 
 propagation of the Christian faith. Their constancy in 
 their sufferings did amaze their bloody persecutors, and 
 outweary the cruelty of their tormentors: and they re- 
 joiced in nothing more, than that they were accounted 
 worthy to suffer shame for the name of Jesus. And 
 what shall we say of their universal charity and love, 
 which reached their very enemies? of their humility and 
 meekness, justice and temperance, and all those other 
 virtues which many of the Heathens themselves did 
 observe and admire? Behold, saith one, how the Chris- 
 tians love one another! These are the men, saith anoth- 
 er, who speak as they think, and do as they speak. 
 Pliny, after an exact inquiry, writeth to Trajan the Em- 
 peror, That he could never find any other guilt in the 
 IS* 
 
138 THAT THERE ARE BUT 
 
 Christians, but that they met together before daybreak, 
 to sing a hymn to Christ, as if he were God; and then 
 to bind themselves with a sacrament or oath, not to do 
 any mischief; but, on the contrary, that they shall not 
 rob, steal, or commit adultery, or falsify their words, 
 or deny their trust, &c. This was the crime of Chris- 
 tians in those first ages, to engage themselves not to 
 commit any crime. And if it fell out that any of them 
 were guilty of drunkenness, or uncleanness, or any oth- 
 er of those sins, which, alas! are so lightly censured in 
 our days, they were severely punished: nay, how bit- 
 terly did themselves lament it! They needed not in 
 those days to be pursued by tedious processes, or drag- 
 ged against their will to the profession of their repen- 
 tance. They would sue for it with tears, and stand 
 many years at the door of the church, begging to be 
 received. The censures of the church were then look- 
 ed upon as very serious and dreadful things: and they 
 who would encounter death in the most terrible form, 
 would tremble if threatened with excommunication. 
 Now, tell me, I pray you, what you think of these men? 
 Did they supererogate, and go beyond their duty? or 
 were they fools in doing these things, when half the 
 pains might have served the turn? Did heaven and hap- 
 piness cost them so much labour, and tliink you to be 
 carried fast asleep, or rather while you are bending 
 your forces quite another way! If you cannot look so 
 far back, or if you imagine these but romances, like the 
 poetic accounts of the golden age, wherein all men 
 were happy and good, I shall then desire you to take 
 notice of a few persons, whom the divine goodness hath 
 rescued from that deluge of wickedness which over- 
 floweth the world. There are perhaps some two or 
 three in a city, or in a country, who live very far be- 
 yond the common rate of men, and may be accounted 
 angels upon earth, if compared with them. They have 
 escaped the pollution that is in the world, and have 
 learned to despise all the vanities of it; their affections 
 are above, and their greatest business is, to please and 
 serve their maker; their thoughts and affections are in 
 
A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 189 
 
 a great measure holy aud pure, their converse innocent 
 and useful, and in their whole deportment they observe 
 such strict rules of holiness aud virtue, as others may 
 think needless or superstitious: and yet these persons 
 are deeply sensible of their own imperfections, and 
 afraid enough to come short of heaven. I speak not 
 now of those scnipulous persons whom melancholy doth 
 expose unto perpetual and unaccountable fears; much 
 less of others, who make a trade of complaining, and 
 would be the better thought of for speaking evil of 
 themselves, and would be very ill pleased if you should 
 believe them. I speak of rational and sober men, whose 
 fears arise from their due consideration and measures 
 of things, from the right apprehensions they have of 
 the holiness of God, and the meaning and importance 
 of the gospel-precepts. And certainly such holy jeal- 
 ousies over themselves ought not to be judged needless; 
 since St. Paul himself, who had been rapt up into the 
 third heaven, and thereby received an earnest of eter- 
 nal happiness, found it necessary to take care, lest that 
 by any means, while he preached to others, himself 
 should be a cast-away. I know it is ordinary for men 
 to laugh at those who are more serious and conscien- 
 tious than themselves, to wonder v.'hat they aim at, and 
 to hope to be as sure of heaven as they. But ere long 
 they shall discover their mistake, and shall say, with 
 those spoken of in the book of Wisdom, This was he 
 whom we had sometimes in derision, and a proverb of 
 reproach. We fools accounted his life madness, and 
 his end to be without honour. How is he numbered 
 among the children of God, and his lot is among the 
 saints! Therefore have we erred from the way of truth, 
 and the light of righteousness hath not shined unto us, 
 and the sun of righteousness rose not upon us. 
 
 To come yet closer unto our present purpose, a se- 
 rious consideration of the laws and precepts of the gos- 
 pel, will fully convince us of the straightness of the 
 gate, and narrowness of the way that leads unto eter- 
 nal life. We cannot name them all, nor insist upon 
 aa at length. Look thiough that excellent sermon ou 
 
140 THAT THERE ARE BITT 
 
 the m®unt, and see what our Saviour doth require of 
 his followers. You will find him injoining such a pro- 
 found humility, as shall make us think nothing of our- 
 selves, and be content that others think nothing of us; a 
 meekness which no injuries can overcome, no affronts 
 nor indignities can exasperate; a chastity which restrain- 
 eth the sight of the eyes, and the wandering of the de- 
 sires; such an universal charity as will make us tender 
 other men's welfare as our own, and never to take any 
 revenge against our most bitter enemies, but to wish 
 them well, and to do them all the good we can, wheth- 
 er they will or not. Whatever corrupt glosses men 
 are bold to put on our Saviour's words, the offering the 
 other cheek to him who smote the one, and the giving 
 our coat to him who hath taken our cloak, doth oblige 
 lis to suffer injuries, and part with something of our 
 right, for avoiding strife and contention. The pulling 
 out our right eye and cutting off our right hand that 
 offends, doth import the renouncing of the most gainful 
 callings, or pleasant enjoyments, when they become a 
 snare unto us, and the use of all those corporal austeri- 
 ties that arc necessary for the restraint of our lust and 
 corrupt affections. The hating of father and mother for 
 the sake of Christ, doth at least imply the loving of 
 him infinitely beyond our dearest relations, and the be- 
 ing ready to part with them when either our duty or his 
 will doth call for it. And we must not look upon these 
 things as only counsels of perfection, commendable in 
 themselves, but which may yet be neglected without 
 any gi-eat hazard. No, certainly; they are absolutely 
 necessary: and it is folly to expect happiness without 
 the conscientior.s and sincere performance of them all. 
 Whosoever shall break one of these least coinmand- 
 ments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the 
 least in the kingdem of heaven; that is, according to 
 all interpreters, he shall have no interest in it. You 
 see then by what strict rules he must square his actions, 
 who can with any ground hope to be saved. But now 
 I must tell you further; that he must not be put to the 
 performance of his duty merely by the force and sano- 
 
A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 141 
 
 tioi>s of these laws. True religion is an inwaro, free, 
 and self-moving principle; and those who have made a 
 progress in it, are not acted only by external motives, 
 are not merely driven by threatenings, nor bribed by 
 promises, nor constrained by laws; but are powerfully 
 inclined to that which is good. Though holy and re- 
 ligious persons do much eye the law of God ; yet it is 
 cot so much tlie authority and sanction of it, as its rea- 
 sonableness, and purity, and goodness, that doth prevail 
 with them. They account it excellent and desirable in 
 itself, and that in keeping of it there is a great reward; 
 and that divine love wherewith they are acted, makes 
 them become a law unto themselves: Quis legem det 
 amantibus? Major est amor lex ipse sibi. In a 
 word, what our blessed Saviour said of himself, is in 
 some measure applicable to his followers, that it is their 
 meat and drink to do their Father's will. And as the 
 natural appetite is carried out towards food, though we 
 should not reflect on the necessity of it for the preser- 
 vation of our lives; so are they carried with a natural 
 and unforced propension towards that which is good 
 and commendable. 
 
 Hitherto we have been speaking of those qualifica- 
 tions which are necessary for obtaining an entrance 
 into heaven: It is high time we were casting our eyes 
 upon the world, to see how the tempers and actions 
 of men agree with them. And if first we look back 
 upon the old world, we shall see how soon wickedness 
 did overspread the face of the earth, and all flesh had 
 cornipted their way; and of all the multitudes that were 
 then in the world, only Noah and his family were found 
 worthy to escape the general deluge; nay even in it 
 there was a cursed Cham, the father of a wicked gene- 
 ration. After that the church of God was confined to 
 a very narrow corner; and while darkness covered the 
 face of the earth, only Palestine was enlightened with 
 the knowledge of God: He showed his word unto Jacob, 
 his statutes and his judgments unto Israel. But he dealt 
 not so with every nation: as for his judgments, they 
 have not known them. They were given up to tlie 
 
143 THAT THERE ARE BUT 
 
 lusts of their own hearts, and worshipped the works of 
 their own hands. Their devotions were performed unto 
 devils, and their religious mysteries were full of the 
 grossest impurities. I shall not now enter on the de- 
 bate. Whether ever any Heathen might possibly have 
 been saved? We are more concerned to secure our own 
 salvation, than to dispute about theirs: and yet I must 
 say, that, amongst all the lives of celebrated Heathens, 
 I could never meet with the character of a truly good 
 man. And though I love not to decry morality, yet 
 that pride and self-conceit which mingled itself with 
 their fairest actions, makes me look upon them as in- 
 deed splendida peccata, a more specious kind of sins. 
 But suppose something could be said for Socrates and 
 Plato, and two or three others, what is that to those 
 huge multitudes, who without all peradventure, ran 
 headlong into everlasting destruction? But let us leave 
 those times, and look upon the present condition of the 
 world. It is a sad account of it that is given by Breer- 
 wood in his Enquiries, that dividing the whole world 
 into thirty parts, nineteen are Pagan, six are Mahome- 
 tan, and only five remain for Christians of all persua^ 
 sions. I shall not warrant the exactness of his reckon- 
 ing: but certainly the number of Christians carries but 
 a very small proportion to the rest of mankind. And 
 of these again, how few are there orthodox in their re- 
 ligion? I dare not condemn all those who live in the 
 Komish communion: but sure they lie under very great 
 disadvantages; and, besides the common ditficulties of 
 Christianity, their errors and superstitions are no small 
 hinderances unto them. 
 
 But we may perhaps think ourselves little concerned 
 in them. Let us consider those who live in communion 
 with ourselves, and see what is to be thought of the 
 generality of them. And, first, we shall find a very 
 great number of them so grossly ignorant, that they 
 know not the way that leads to life. And truly it is 
 net so broad that people should keep it by guess. And 
 however they imagine, that their ignorance will not 
 enlv he excusable in itsejf, but afford a cloak to their 
 
A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 14^ 
 
 bther wickedness ; yet dreadful is that threatenizig of the 
 prophet Isaiah, It is a people of no understanding: there- 
 fore he tTiat made them will not have mercy upon themj 
 and he that formed them will show them no favour. 
 But, besides those many thousands that perish for lack 
 of knowledge, how great are the number of vicious 
 and scandalous persons? Remove but our gluttons and 
 drunkards, our thieves and deceivers, our oppressors 
 and extortioners, our scolders and revilers, our fornica- 
 tors and adulterers, and all that cursed crevv that are 
 guilty of such heinous crimes, and how thin should our 
 churches be? to what a small number should we quick- 
 ly be reduced? A little corner would hold us all. And 
 think you these I have been speaking of, are fit to en- 
 ter into the kingdom of heaven? Perhaps you may think 
 us rash to condemn so many of our neighbours, but the 
 Apostle hath done it to our hands: Know ye not that 
 the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? 
 Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor 
 adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves 
 with manldnd, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, 
 nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom 
 of God. You see what a heavy sentence is pronounced: 
 and O how many are included under it! I shall name 
 one other vice, which I fear will drive in no small num- 
 ber of those who are yet behind; and that is^ the hellish 
 iand unaccountable sin of swearing, whereby men do 
 commonly throw away their souls, without any tempta- 
 tion, pleasure, or advantage. How often do men baffle 
 the sacred name of God, by calling him to witness to 
 such trifles as they might be ashamed to attest before 
 any grave or sober person? This they account an orna- 
 ment of speech, and their words would never sound big 
 enough without it. I cannot stand to reckon up ail the 
 aggravations of this sin. It is certainly inconsistent 
 with a religious temper; and this alone, if there were 
 no more, would damn the greatest part of the christian 
 world. And what shall we say of all those other vices, 
 which are so frequently practised, yea, and defended 
 too among us? for, alas! we are arrived at that lieight 
 
144 THAT THERE ARE BtfiP 
 
 of impiety, that virtue and vice seem to have shifted 
 places; evil and good to have changed their names. It 
 is counted a gallant thing to despise all divine and hu- 
 man laws; and a childish scrupulosity, to forbear any 
 thing that may gratify our lusts. A strong faith is ac- 
 counted an argument of weak judgment; dependence 
 upon providence is judged want of foresight; and that 
 there is no wit but in deceiving others: no man is reck- 
 oned generous, unless he be extremely ambitious; and it 
 is want of courage to forgive an injury. O Religion, 
 whither art thou fied ! In what corner of the world shall 
 we find thee? Shall we search thee in courts and palaces 
 of great men? Pride and luxury hath driven thee thence ; 
 and they are too much concerned in the business and 
 pleasure of this world, to mind those of another. Shall 
 we seek thee in the cottages of the poor? Envy and 
 discontent lodgeth there; their outward want takes up 
 all their thoughts, and they have little regard for their 
 souls. Shall we go into the city? Cheating and extor- 
 tion, and intemperance, are almost all we can meet 
 with there. And if we retire into the country, we shall 
 find as little innocence in it. We may look for judg- 
 ment, but behold oppression; for righteousness, but be- 
 hold a cry. 
 
 After all that we have hitherto said, some may think 
 themselves safe enough, being conscious of none of 
 those vices which we have named. But, alas! what 
 is all this? They may still be far from the kingdom of 
 heaven. Religion stands not in negatives; and the 
 being free from gross and scandalous vices, is a poor 
 plea for heaven. Look how the soul is furnished with 
 those divine graces, w-hich ought to qualify thee for it, 
 I shall name but one; and it is, the love of God; and 
 every body pretendeth to if but O how few are there 
 in the world that understand what it means ; that feel 
 the power and efficacy of it on their own spirits! 
 Amor est pondus aiiimi; Love is that weight whereby 
 a soul is carried towards the object which it loves, and 
 resteth in it as its proper centre. Those who are ac- 
 quaiuted with this noble passion even in its wanderings 
 
A SMALL NX7MBER SAVED. 1-45 
 
 and deviations from its proper object, when it is wholly 
 fixed on some silly creature like ourselves: these, I say» 
 do know what mighty effects it is wont to produce on 
 the souls where it prevaileth;how it makes them almost 
 forget their own interest, and only mind that of another; 
 how careful they are of every thing that may please or 
 advantage the person, and afraid to offend them; what 
 delight they have in their conversation, and how hardly 
 they endure to be absent from them. See therefore if 
 thou findest any thing answerable to these effects of 
 love, in the affection thou pretendest unto God. Are 
 his glory and honour the dearest of all things unto thee; 
 and wouldst thou rather hear thyself and all thy friends 
 reviled, than his holy name blasphemed? Is it thy 
 greatest care and business to please him, and art thoa 
 watchful against every sin? Is there nothing in the 
 world so dear unto thee, but thou wouldst part with 
 for his sake; and still desirest he should do his own will 
 rather than thine? Is nothing so delightful as to con- 
 verse with him? And doth every thing seem burden- 
 some which detains thee long from him? If we would 
 examine ourselves by these measures, I fear most of as 
 would find our confidence built on a sandy foundation. 
 Perhaps you will tell me, that though things be not so 
 well at present; though yO'U have not yet attained these 
 endowments that are necessary to fit you for heaven, 
 nor have indeed begun to endeavour after them: yet 
 hereafter you hope all shall be well; you will repent and 
 amend once before you die. But consider, I beseech 
 you, my brethren, what it is that you say. When 
 think you that this promised reformation shall begin? 
 Some two or three years after this, when yon have 
 pleased yourselves, and indulged your lusts a Htfle more? 
 But what assurance, have you to live so long? Are not 
 your neighbours droppi-»g down every day about you, 
 who expected death as little as you? And suppose you 
 live, what greater probability is there of your reforma- 
 tion at that time than now? Had you not the same 
 thoughts and resolutions several years ago, which yet 
 have taken no effect at all? Will you not have the same 
 13 
 
146 THAT THERE ARE BUT 
 
 temptations and snares? Will your lusts be more easily 
 overcome, when strengthened by longer custom? Will 
 it be more easy to return after you have wandered fur- 
 ther out of your way? Belike it is on a deathbed repent- 
 ance you have grounded your hopes; you resolve to part 
 with your lusts when you can keep them no longer, and 
 serve God Almighty with the dregs of your time. I 
 shall not stand to tell you what shrewd objections are 
 proposed by some great and learned men against the 
 validity and acceptableness of such a repentance: some 
 of them perhaps have been too peremptory and severe. 
 True and unfeigned repentance, which includeth the 
 sincere love of (iod, and resignation to him, will never 
 come too late: the foundation of heaven is laid in the 
 souls of those that have it. But if we consider what a 
 great matter true repentance is, the shortness of the 
 time, and hinderances of a distempered body, and the 
 ordinary relapses of men who have promised fair on 
 such occasions, and have outlived that sickness they 
 thought had been mortal; we cannot but acknowledge, 
 that a deathbed repentance is seldom sincere; and that 
 it is an unfit time to begin to fight with principalities 
 and powers, when perhaps we have not strength to 
 turn ourselves on our beds; in a word, that of those 
 who do thus delay and put off the business, very few 
 shall be saved. 
 
 When we have said all that we can say, there are 
 many will never be persuaded of the truth of that 
 which we have been proving. They cannot think it 
 consistent with the goodness and mercy of God, that 
 the greatest part of mankind should be damned: they 
 cannot imagine that heaven should be such an empty 
 and desolate place, and have so very few to inhabit it. 
 But O what folly and madness is this, for sinful men to 
 set rules unto the divine goodness, and draw conclu- 
 sions from it so expressly contrary to what himself hath 
 revealed! Is it not enough that he has taught us the 
 way to be happy, and given his own Son to the death 
 to make it possible; that he hath waited so long, and 
 invited us so earnestly^ and so frequently told us our 
 
A SMALL NUMBER SAVED. 147 
 
 hazard? If all this cannot prevail ; if we be obstinately 
 resolved to continue wicked and miserable; if we 
 despise his goodness, and turn all his grace unto wan- 
 tonness; if we slight his threatenings, and will have 
 none of his reproof; if we court damnation, and throw 
 ourselves headlong into hell: how can we expect that 
 he should interpose his omnipotency to pull us from 
 thence, and place us in heaven against our will? 
 Those blessed regions are not like our new plantations, 
 which are sometimes' peopled with the worst sort of 
 persons, lest they should be altogether desolate. There 
 are thousands of angels, and ten thousand times ten 
 thousand that stand about the throne. We know little 
 the extent of the universe, or what proportion the 
 wicked or miserable part of rational bemgs doth carry 
 to thx)se that are happy and good: but this we know, 
 that God was infinitely happy before he had made any 
 creature ; that he needeth not the society of the holy an- 
 gels, and will never admit that of wicked and irreligious 
 men. But, that I may haste tow ads a close, 
 
 The doctrine we have been insisting on, is sad and 
 lamentable; but the consideration of it may be very 
 useful. It must needs touch any serious person with 
 a great deal of grief and trouble, to behold a multitude 
 of people convened together, and to think, that, before 
 thirty or forty years, a little more, or great deal less, 
 they shall all go down unto the dark and silent grave, 
 and the greater, the far greater part of their souls shall 
 be damned unto endless and unspeakable torments. But 
 this may stir us up unto the greatest diligence and care, 
 that we may do what we can towards the prevention 
 of it. Were the sense of this deeply engraven on all 
 our minds, with what care and diligence, with what 
 seriousness and zeal would ministers deal with the peo- 
 ple committed to their charge, that by any means they 
 might save some? How would parents, and husbands, 
 and wives, employ all their diligence and industry, and 
 make use of the most useful methods, for reclaiming 
 their near relations, and pulling them from the brink 
 of hell? Lastly, what holy violence would each of us 
 
148 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE 
 
 rise for saving ourselves from this common rum, and 
 n)aking our calling and election sure? This, 1 say, is 
 the use of what we have been speaking: and may Al- 
 mighty God so accompany it with his blessing and 
 power, that it may be so happily effectual to so excel- 
 lent a purpose. And unto this God, &c. 
 
 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE OF PRAISE AND 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 FSALM CVII. 15. 
 
 Oh that men would praise the Lord for his good- 
 ness and for his wonderful ivorks to the children 
 of men! 
 
 There is scarce any duty of religion more commonly 
 neglected, or more slightly performed, than that of praise 
 and thanksgiving. The sense of onr wants puts us upon 
 begging favours from God; and the consciousness of our 
 sins constrains us to deprecate his wrath. Thus interest 
 and self-love send us to our prayers. But, alas! how 
 small a part hath an ingenuous gratitude in our devotion? 
 How seldom are we serious and hearty in our acknowl- 
 edgement of the divine bounty? The slender returns of 
 this nature which we make, are mony times a formal 
 ceremony, a preface to usher in our petitions for what 
 we want, rather than any sincere expression of our 
 thankful resentment for what we have received. Far 
 different was the temper of the holy Psalmist, whose 
 affectionate acknowledgements of the goodness and 
 bounty of God, in the cheerful celebration of his praise, 
 make up a considerable part of his divine and ravishing 
 songs. How often do we find him exciting and dispos- 
 ing himself to join voice, hand and heart together in 
 this holy and delightful employment? Bless the Lord, O 
 xaj soul: and all that is within me, bless bis holy name^ 
 
OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 149 
 
 My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed. I will sing 
 and give praise. Awake up, my glory, awake, psaltery 
 and harp: I myself will awake right early. And being 
 conscious of his own insufficiency for the work, he invit- 
 eth others unto it; calling in the whole creation to assist 
 him: O sing unto the Lord a new song; sing unto the 
 Lord all the earth. Give unto the Lord, O ye kindreds 
 of the people, give unto the Lord glory and strength. 
 Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the hea- 
 vens: praise him in the heights. Praise him, ye sun and 
 moon: praise him, all ye stars of light; mountains and 
 all hills, fruitful trees and all cedars; beasts and all cat- 
 tle, creeping things, and flying fowl. Bless the Lord, all 
 his works in all places of his dominion. Many such 
 figurative expressions occur, and allowance must be 
 made for the poetical strain; but in the text we have a 
 proper and passionate wish. Oh that men would praise 
 the Lord, &c. 
 
 O that men, 8fc. Man is the great priest of this low- 
 er world, by whom all the homage and service of the 
 other creatures is to be paid to their common lord and 
 maker. God hath made him to have dominion over the 
 works of his hand, he hath put all things under his feet; 
 all sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field: the 
 fowl of the air, the fish of the sea, and whatsoever pass- 
 eth through the paths of the seas. And the divine boun- 
 ty, in maintaining of these poor creatures, redoundeth 
 unto him; and therefore it is highly reasonable that he 
 should pay the tribute of praise for them, who are not 
 capable to know their dependence on God, or their ob- 
 ligations unto him. The young lions are said to roar 
 and seek their meat from God. The young ravens do cry 
 unto him. But these are only the complaints of languish- 
 ing nature heard and relieved by the God of nature; but 
 not directly and particularly addressed to him. Man 
 alone is capable to entertain communion with God, to 
 know his goodness, and to celebrate his praise. 
 
 O that ?7ien tvould praise the Lord. Praise is the 
 acknowledgement of the goodness and excellency of a 
 person: and though tlie desire of it, in us who have no- 
 13* 
 
150 THE DUTY AST) PLEASURE 
 
 thing of our own but folly and siu, and whose best per- 
 formances have a miserable alloy of adherent corruption, 
 be a blamable vanity and presumption: yet certainly it is 
 highly reasonable for (iod, who ^s the author and foun- 
 tain of all good, to require and expect it from his crea- 
 tures. He hath made this great world as a temple for his 
 honour, and it should continually resound with his praise. 
 It is true, all the praises of men and angels can add no- 
 thing to his happiness and glory; yet there is a fitness and 
 congruity in the thing; and it is our happiness as well as 
 our duty to perform it: for it is good to sing praises to 
 our God; for it is pleasant, and praise is comely. This 
 is the blessed employment of the holy ones above: and 
 if ever we taste the pleasures of heaven upon earth, it is 
 then when our souls are ravished with an overflowing 
 sense of the divine goodness, and our mouths are filled 
 with his praise. 
 
 Oh that men icould praise the Lord for his good- 
 ness. All the attributes of God deserve our highest 
 praise. Power, wisdom, and goodness are all one in 
 him; but, as we have different conceptions of these, 
 good:iess is that lovely attribute which doth peculiarly at- 
 tract our affection, and excite our praise. Our love to 
 God doth not so much flow from the consideration of his 
 greatness, whereby he can do whatever he will, as from 
 the consideration of his goodness, that he always willeth 
 what is best, that his almighty power hath infinite wis- 
 dom to regulate it and unspeakable bounty to actuate 
 and exert it. 
 
 Oh that men would praise the Lord for his good- 
 ness, and for his wonderful works to the children 
 of men! The divine goodness doth spread and extend 
 itself over all the parts of the uni\ erse, and embraceth 
 the whole creation in its arms: it not only displayeth it- 
 self most illustriously to the blessed inhabitants above, 
 but also reachelh to the meanest worm that crawleth on 
 the ground. The beasts of the field, and the fowls of the 
 air, and the fishes of the sea, and the innumerable 
 swarms of Ihtle insects which we can hardly discern 
 with our eyes, are all subjects of that almighty care: by 
 
OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 151 
 
 him they are brought forth into tlie world ; by him they 
 are furnished with provision suitable for them: These 
 all wait upon thee (saith the Psalmist): that thou nmyst 
 give them their meat in due season. That thou givest 
 them, they gather: thou openest thine hand, they are 
 filled with good. But here, to excite us to ihankfol- 
 ness, he makes choice of an instance wherein we our- 
 selves are more nearly concerned; and exhorteth to 
 praise the Lord for his wonderful works to the children 
 of men. If the goodness of God to the holy angels be 
 above our reach, and his bounty to the inferior creatures 
 be below our notice; yet sure we must be infinitely dull 
 if w^e do not observe his dealings with ourselves and 
 those of our kind. As our interest maketh us more 
 sensible of this, so gratitude doth oblige us to a more 
 particular acknowledgement of it. 
 
 Thus you have the meaning and importance of the 
 text. I know not how we can better employ the rest of 
 the time, than by suggesting to your meditations particu- 
 lar instances of this goodness, and of his wonderful works 
 to the children of men. 
 
 Let us then reflect on the works both of creation and 
 providence. Let us consider in what a goodly and well- 
 furnished world he hath placed us, how he hath stretch- 
 ed out the heavens as a curtain over our heads, and 
 therein hath set a tabernacle for the sun; which, as an 
 imiversal lamp, enlighteneth all the inhabitants of the 
 earth. His going forth is from the end of the heaven, his 
 circuit to the ends thereof; and there is nothing hid from 
 his heat. In the morning he ariseth and maketh the 
 darkness flee before him, and disco vereth all the beauty 
 and lustre of things. And truly the light is sweet, and a 
 pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun. Nor 
 is it less useful and advantageous for directing our ways, 
 and ordering our several employments: Man goeth forth 
 to his work, and to his labour until the evening. He 
 maketh darkness, and it is night. The curtains are 
 drawn and all things hushed into silence, that man may 
 enjoy the more quiet repose: and yet, to lessen the hor- 
 ror of darlmess, and iishten such as are obliged to travel 
 
162 THE Dt7TY AND PLEASURE 
 
 in the night, while the sun is enlightening another part 
 of the world, we have the moon and stars to supply his 
 room. O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good: 
 for his mercy endureth for ever. To him that by wis- 
 dom made the heavens; for his, &c. The moon and 
 stars to rule by night; for his, &c. 
 
 Again, how wonderfully hath he furnished this lower 
 world for our maintenance and accommodation! The 
 heaven, even the heaven of heavens are the Lord's: but 
 the earth hath he given to the children of men. He 
 hath made us to have dominion over all the works of his 
 hands; he hath put all things under our feet: all sheep 
 and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field: the fowl of 
 the air, the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth 
 tlirough the paths of the seas. By the art and industry 
 of man the swiftest fowls are caught; the fiercest crea- 
 tures are tamed; the strongest beasts are overcome, and 
 all made serviceable unto him. The horse helpeth our 
 journey both with speed and ease, the oxen labour the 
 ground for us; sheep afford us meat and clothes: from the 
 bowels of the earth we dig fuels, metals, and stones; 
 which are still the more plentiful, as they are useful and 
 advantageous to us. Those stones which serve for build- 
 ing, are abnost everywhere ready at hand; whereas 
 rubies and diamonds, and other such glistering trifles, are 
 found but in a few places of the world, and gotten with a 
 great deal of toil. And to what hardship should all sort 
 of artificers be put, if iron were as scanty as gold? The 
 surface of the earth yieldeth grass for the cattle, and herb 
 for the service of man; and wine that maketh glad the 
 heart of man, and bread which strengtheneth his heart. 
 These it aftbrdeth unto us from time to time; and, while 
 we are spending the productions of one year, God is pro- 
 viding for us against another. There is no sznall variety 
 of seasons and influences, which concur for the produc- 
 tion of that corn, which we murmur so much for when 
 we want, and value so little when it doth abound. The 
 winter-cold must temper and prepare the earth: the gen- 
 tle spring must cherish and foment the seed; vapours 
 mask be raised, end condensed into clouds, aod than 
 
OF PRAISE AND l-wA NKSGIVING. 153 
 
 squeezed out and sifted into little drops, to water and re- 
 fresh the ground; and then the summer heat must ripen 
 and digest the corn before it be fit to be cut down. Thou 
 visitest the earth (saith the Psalmist,) and waterest it: thou 
 greatly enrichest it with the river of God which is full of 
 water: thou preparest them corn, when thou hast so pro- 
 vided for it. Thou waterest the ridges thereof abund- 
 antly: thou settlest the furrows thereof: thou makest it 
 soft with showers; thou blesseth the springing thereof. 
 Thou crownest the year with thy goodness, and all thy 
 paths drop fatness. They drop upon the pastures of the 
 wilderness: and the little hills rejoice on every side. The 
 pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are cov- 
 ered over with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing. 
 O Lord how wonderful are thy works! in wisdom hast 
 thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches. So 
 is the great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping 
 innumerable, both small and great fishes. There go the 
 ships, those great engines of traffic and commerce, 
 whereby every country is easily furnished with the 
 productions of another. And indeed it is a wonderful 
 and astonishing contrivance of nature, that men should 
 be easily transported to the remotest places in such 
 floating houses, and carried (so to speak) upon the 
 wings of the wind; that they should be able to find out 
 their way in the widest ocean and darkest night, by the 
 direction of a trembling needle, and the unaccountable 
 influence of a sorry stone. They that go down to the 
 sea in ships, that do business in great waters: these see 
 the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. 
 For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, 
 which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to 
 the heaven, they go down again to the depths, their 
 soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, 
 and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits 
 end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and 
 he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh 
 the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. 
 Then are they glad, because they are quiet; so he bring- 
 eth them unto their desired haven. Oh that men, &q. 
 
154 THE DVTY AND PLEASURE 
 
 But now we are fallen unawares from the works of 
 creation to those of providence. Indeed it is hard to 
 keep to any exact method in a subject so copious, 
 where one thing doth obtrude itself upon us before we 
 have done with another. Let us call back our thoughts 
 to a more orderly consideration of that bountiful provi- 
 dence which followeth us from time to time. We are 
 infinitely indebted to the divine goodness before we see 
 the light of the world. He poureth us out as milk, and 
 cnidleth us like cheese. He clothes us with skin and 
 flesh, and fenceth us with bones and sinews. He grant- 
 eth us life and favour, and his visitation preserveth our 
 spirit. This is so entirely the work of God, that the pa- 
 rents do not so much as understand how it is performed ; 
 for who knoweth the way of the spirit, (how it cometh 
 to enlighten a piece of matter,) or how the bones do 
 grow in the womb of her that is with child? I will praise 
 thee, (saith the Psalmist,) for I am fearfully and won- 
 derfully made: marvellous are thy works, and that my 
 soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid 
 from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously 
 wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did 
 see my substance yet being unperfect, and in thy book 
 all my members were written, which in continuance 
 were fashioned, when as yet there were none of them. 
 How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! 
 how great is the sum of them! &c. Nine months ordina- 
 rily pass in the forming of this curious and wonderful 
 piece, before it be exposed to the view of the world: 
 and then the prisoner is released from that narrow con- 
 finement, and the mother and the child are delivered 
 together. The mother fargetteth her anguish and pangs, 
 for joy that a man child is born into the world. The 
 poor infant is naked and weak, ready to expire for hun- 
 ger and cold, unable to do any thing for hself but weep 
 and cry: but he that brought it into the world, hath al- 
 ready provided for its sustentation in it. The mother's 
 breasts are filled with a wholesome and delicious liquor, 
 vvhjch faileth not from time to time, but is invisibly 
 
OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 155 
 
 supplied, like the widow of Sarepla's oil, till the child 
 become capable of stronger food. 
 
 But it was not enough that mothers should be ena- 
 bled to sustain their infants, unless they had been also 
 powerfully inclined unto it; and, therefore, God hath 
 implanted those bowels of kindness and compassion, 
 which prompts them to the most tender and affectionate 
 care, and makes them as ready to help their children's 
 necessities as their own: which, though it do hardly de- 
 serse the name of a virtue, being common to them with 
 the brutes, for even the seamonsters draw out the 
 breasts, and give suck to their young; yet certainly it is 
 an effect of the divine wisdom, that infants may not want 
 those succours which would never have been so effectu- 
 ally secured to them by a law. Meanwhile, the poor 
 infant is so weak, and so unable to endure the least 
 violence, and withal exposed to so innumerable dangers, 
 that the mother's solicitude and care would be to little 
 purpose, if it were not presers'ed by a higher and invis- 
 ible power, which watcheth for its safety when the 
 mother and nurse are fast asleep, and keeps it from be- 
 ing overlaid. 
 
 As we grow in years, our necessities multiply, and 
 dangers increase rather than diminish; and we are still 
 more and more obliged to God for the supply of the 
 one, and our preservation from the other. We think 
 perhaps we have now set up for ourselves, and can pro- 
 vide what is necessary by our own industry, and keep 
 ourselves out of harm's way. But there cannot be a 
 more foolish and unreasonable thought. There needeth 
 but a little consideration to undeceive us. All that we 
 project and do for ourselves, dependeth on the integrity 
 of our faculties, and the soundness of our reason ; which 
 is a happiness we can never secure unto ourselves. I 
 choose this instance the rather, because it is a mercy 
 invaluable in itself, and I fear very seldom considered 
 by us. O what an unspeakable blessing it is, that we 
 are preserved in our right wits; that we are not roaring 
 in 8011)6 be<ilajii, or running furiously up and down the 
 
156 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE 
 
 Streets; nor have our spirits sank into silliness or stupid- 
 ity, which would make every little child to mock and 
 deride us! It is possible enough that this should befall 
 the wisest and most steadfast of us all. A stroke on the 
 head, a few more degrees of heat in the blood, or agi- 
 tation of the vital spirits, were enough to do the busi- 
 ness. So weak and mutable creatures are we; so small 
 is the distance between a wise man and a fool. Next to 
 the use of our reason, how much are we indebted to the 
 divine goodness for our health and welfare! These bod- 
 ies of ours are made up of so various parts, and withal 
 so nice and delicate, that the least thing in the world is 
 enough to entangle and disorder them. A drop of hu- 
 mour, or a grain of sand, will sometimes occasion such 
 anguish and pain, as render a man insensible of all the 
 comforts he enjoy eth in the world: and they who under- 
 stand any thing of the human body, will justly wonder 
 that all the parts are kept in order for an hour. What 
 a mercy ought we therefore to account it, to find our- 
 selves in health and vigour; no aching in our head, no 
 noisomeness in our stomach, no fever in the blood, none 
 of the humours vitiated, none of those innumerable con- 
 duits broken which convey them, but all the organs 
 performing their proper functions, and a sprightly vigour 
 possessing every part! How much are we indebted to 
 that providence which preserveth us from falls and 
 bruises, and keepeth all our bones, so that none of them 
 is broken; which watcheth over us when w^e are not 
 able to care for ourselves! What a blessing is it to en- 
 joy the repose of the night; that we are not wearied with 
 endless tossings and rollings, nor scared with dreams, 
 and terrified with visions, whereof holy Job complains; 
 that we are protected from fire and violence, from evil 
 spirits, and from evil men! I will both lay me down in 
 peace, and sleep; for thou, Lord, only makest me to 
 dwell in safety. And what shall we say of our food 
 and raiment, of our houses and manifold accommoda- 
 tions, of the kindness of our neighbours, and the love of 
 our friends, of all the means of our subsistence, and all the 
 comforts of our lives.' We are made up, as it were, of 
 
OF PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 157 
 
 a great many several pieces, have such a variety of in- 
 terests and enjoyments concurring to our present happi- 
 ness, that it is an unspeakable goodness which continu- 
 eth them all with us from time to time: that when we 
 awake in the morning we should find our minds clear, 
 our bodies well, our house safe, all our friends in health, 
 and all our interests secure. He is a wall of fire about 
 us, and about all that we have, by night and by day; 
 and his mercies are new every morning. I cannot stand 
 to speak of all those more public mercies, the peace and 
 tranquillity of kingdoms, and all the happy effects "of 
 society and government. I shall only say, that it is a 
 signal instance of the divine wisdom and goodness in 
 the government of the world, that such a vast number 
 of persons only actuated by self-love, should all conspire 
 for the public interest, and so eminently advance one 
 another's welfare; that magistrates should so willingly 
 undergo the trouble of government, and a heady and 
 inconsiderate multitude should be commanded and over- 
 awed by a single man. Certainly it can be no other but 
 that same God who stilleth the noise of the waves, that 
 can prevent or compose the tumults of the people. 
 
 Hitherto we have considered those instances of the 
 divine bounty which relate to our temporal concerns. 
 But sure we were made for some higher and more ex- 
 cellent enUi, than to pass a few months or years in this 
 world, to eat, drink, sleep, and die. God hath designed 
 US for a more lasting and durable life, and hath accor- 
 dingly made greater provisions for it. He taketh care 
 of our very bodies; but hath an infinitely- greater regard 
 to those spiritual and immortal substances which he hath 
 ^ breathed into us. And here in all reason we ought to 
 begin with that great and fundamental mercy, which ig 
 the root and spring of all his other mercies towards the 
 souls of men; I mean the incarnation and the death of 
 his only begotten Son. Bxit, alas! where are those 
 affections wherewith that should be spoken and heard? 
 Our dulness makes me almost afraid to meddle with so 
 high a theme. That the eternal Son of God, the Wis- 
 dom of the Father, the maker and lord of all things, 
 14 
 
158 THE DUTY AND PLEASURE 
 
 should clothe himself with the infirmities of the human 
 nature, and come down from the habitation of his glory, 
 and take up his abode among the wretched and rebel- 
 lious children of men, to reclaim them from their wick- 
 edness and folly, and reduce them to their duty and their 
 happiness; that he should have gone up and down in the 
 world upwards of thirty years in poverty, affliction, and 
 contempt, doing good and suffering evil, scattering bles- 
 sings and enduring injuries wherever he -came; and at 
 last should have yielded up his life in unspeakable an- 
 guish and torment, to be a propitiation for our sins; 
 these are matters which ought never to be spoken or 
 heard, without losing ourselves (as it were) in a rapture 
 of admiration, gratitude, and love. O the breadth, 
 length, depth, and height of that love which passeth all 
 knowledge; which made God assume our nature, that 
 we might become partakers of his! It is true, all that 
 our Saviour hath done and suffered, proveth ineffectual 
 to the greatest part of mankind. But sure they have 
 themselves to blame. God hath both said and sworn, 
 that he hath no pleasure in the death of sinners, but 
 would have them rather repent and live. And indeed 
 this way of dealing with them, doth sufficiently declare 
 the same. With what long-suffering patience doth he 
 wait for their repentance! what pains doth he take Ic 
 reclaim them! ^ 
 
 It is an astonishing thing to consider what indign-ities 
 and affronts are every day done unto that infinite IVIaj- 
 esty by sinful dust and ashes, and that he doth not 
 avenge himself by their total overthrow; that they 
 should violate his law, and despise his threatenings, and 
 defy him, as it were, unto his very face, and yet he 
 should pity and spare them, and wait to be gracious 
 unto them. Were the governn)ent of the world com- 
 mitted to the meekest person on the face of the earth, 
 he would never endure the outrages which are commit- 
 ted against heaven, but would presently lose all his 
 patience, and turn the whole frame into ruin. But God 
 is love. His thoughts and ways are not like those of 
 men; but as tlie heavens are higher thau the earth, so 
 
or PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 16d 
 
 are his thoughts and ways higher than ours. And when 
 the obstinate wickedness of sinful creatures doth, as it 
 were, force and extort punishment from his hands, 
 what reluctancy, what unwillingness doth he express to 
 this work; this strange and unnatural work, as himself 
 seems to term it? How shall I give thee up, O Ephraim? 
 How shall I give thee up? O that my people had heark- 
 ened unto me, that Israel had known my w^ays! O Jeru- 
 salem! O Jerusalem! &c. 
 
 Again, as God waiteth patiently for our reformation, 
 so he doth make use of many methods and means to 
 brnig us unto it. He hath published the gospel through 
 the world, and brought down the knowledge of it to our 
 days, in spite of all the opposition of devils and men. 
 He hath established a church, and appointed a whole or- 
 der of men, whose peculiar calling and business in the 
 world is, to take care of peoples' souls, to instruct them 
 m the way to heaven, and as ambassadors in Christ's 
 stead, to beseech them to be reconciled unto God. 
 These are some of his common mercies: but who can ex- 
 press that favour and love which he showeth to his own, 
 to those blessed persons whom he chooseth, and causeth 
 to approach unto himself, when he rescueth them from 
 the vanity of their conversation, and that pollution which 
 is in the world through lust; when he mouldeth their 
 souls unto a conformity with himself, and stampeth his 
 blessed image upon them; when he visiteth them with 
 his Holy Spirit, and filleth their heart with those hidden 
 pleasures which none can understand but those that feel 
 them ! A stranger intermeddleth not with their joy. And 
 yet even these are but the earnest of that great felicity 
 for which he hath designed us; those joys that are at his 
 right hand, those pleasures that endure for evermore. 
 Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor can it enter into 
 the heart of man to conceive what God hath prepared 
 for those that love him. And it doth not yet appear 
 what we shall be. Meanwhile, those small and imper- 
 fect discoveries which are made to us in the holy Scrip- 
 tures of that inconceivable happiness, are enough to 
 overwhelm us with admiration and wonder. To think 
 
160 THE DUTY A]S"D PLEASURE, &C. 
 
 that the blessed day is coming, when we shall be loos- 
 ed from these dull and lumpish bodies; those sinks of 
 corruption, diseases, and pains; those prisons and dun- 
 geons of our heaven-born souls; and, being clothed 
 with robes of light and glory, shall get above the clouds, 
 and all those storms and tempests which are h'ere be- 
 low; and be carried into those blessed regions of calmness 
 and serenity, of peace and joy, of happinet^s and secu- 
 rity; when we shall come unto the innumerable com- 
 pany of angels, and the general assembly of the church 
 of the first-born, and the spirits of just men made 
 perfect; and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant; 
 there to behold the glory of God, 'and all the splendour 
 of the court of heaven; to view and contemplate that 
 infinite power which created the world, that unsearch- 
 able wisdom which ordereth all things, that unspeakable 
 goodness which exerteth both; nay, so to see God as to 
 become like unto him; and beholding with open face 
 the glory of the Lord, to be changed into the same 
 image, from glory to glory: to receive the continual 
 illapses of the divine goodness, and the constant expres- 
 sions of his favour and love; and to have our own souls 
 melted and dissolved into the flames of reciprocal affec- 
 tion, and that fire fed and nourished by uninterrupted 
 enjoyments: in a word, to be continually transported 
 into ecstasies and raptures, and swallowed up in the 
 embraces of eternal sweetness, and to be lost, as it 
 were, in the source and fountain of happiness and 
 bliss! Lord, what is man, that thou takest knowl- 
 edge of him? or the son of man, that thou makest 
 such account of him? and that thou shouldst set thine 
 heart so much upon him? Oh that men would therefore 
 praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful 
 works to the children of men! O give thanks unto the 
 Lord, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever. 
 Blessed be the nanje of the Lord from this time forth 
 and for evermore. Ameu. 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 161 
 
 ON THE NATIVITY OF OUR SAVIOUR 
 
 O 
 PSALM II. 11. the latter part. 
 
 Rejoice with trembling. 
 The observation of festivals being one of those baJla 
 of contention which have been tossed so hotly in the 
 religious debates of tliis unhappy age, it naay perhaps 
 be expected, that we should begin with a vindication 
 of this day's solemnity from the exceptions that are 
 wont to be taken against it; and that the one half of 
 our sermon should be spent in apology for the other. 
 But I hope we may well enough spare the pains, and 
 employ the time to better purpose. For you who are 
 assembled in this house are persuaded, I trust, of the 
 lawfulness of your own practice; and we cannot direct 
 our speech to those that are absent from it. And really 
 it were to be wished, that there were less noise and 
 debate about matters of this nature; and that, being 
 agreed in the more substantial parts of religion, we did 
 all charitably acquiesce in that excellent advice of the 
 Apostle, which he giveth in a parallel instance, Let not 
 him that eateth, despise him that eateth not; and let 
 not him that eateth not, judge him that eateth. And 
 then, as we shall not abate any thing of that love and 
 reverence which we owe to the piety and truth of those 
 who differ from us in so small matters, so we might 
 hope they would not be hasty to condemn us, if in com- 
 pliance with the practice of the ancient church, and the 
 present constitution of our own, we take the occasion 
 of this season, with thankfulness, to remember the 
 greatest benefit that ever was conferred on the children 
 of men, and at this time perform that service which can 
 never be unseasonable. However, I am confident it is 
 both more hard and necessary to rectify and amend the 
 
1G2 ON THE NATIVITY 
 
 abuses of this solemnity, than to justify the right obser- 
 vation of it; to vindicate it from the dishonour of some 
 of its pretended friends, than to defend it from all the 
 assaults of aggressors: and accordingly we shall make 
 it our work to persuade you to such a deportment on 
 this festival, as may best suit with the holy life and re- 
 ligion of that person whose nativity we commemorate. 
 The text which we have chosen may seem somewhat 
 general, but yet it is easily applicable to the present oc- 
 casion; especially if we remember, that it is an inference 
 drawn from a prophecy, which, though it had its lite- 
 ral completion in the establishment of David's throne, 
 yet it was, in a mystical and a more sublime sense, ful- 
 filled in the incarnation and kingdom of the IVIessiah; 
 as the Apostle in several places informeth us: For to 
 which of the angels hath he said at any time, Thou art 
 my Son, this day have I begotten thee? Whence he in- 
 fers, that the angels themselves are inferior to Christ, of 
 whom this was spoken. The only difficulty of the words 
 lieth in the strange conjunction of these passions, joy, 
 and extreme /ear, which trembling seems to import; 
 but this will be more fully cleared in the sequel of our 
 discourse. INIeanwhile ye may observe, that both these 
 words, /ear and treinhling, are used in the text, and, 
 in the scripture-phrase, usually import humility, and 
 diligence, solicitude and caution, and the fear of dis- 
 pleasing, as being the most proper qualifications of our 
 obedience, either to God or man. Thus are we com- 
 manded to work out our salvation with fear and trem- 
 bling; and servants are commanded to obey their mas- 
 ters with fear and trembling: so the Corinthians are 
 said to have received Titus, being sent to them, with 
 fear and trembling; and Chrysostom saith of the angels, 
 that they assist with fear and trembling. All which 
 places do import such care and diligence, as are very 
 necessary and reconcilable to cheerful service. Rev- 
 erence, and fear to offend, will be happily joined with 
 holy joy in the performance of our duty ; there being 
 nothing more pleasant, than to serve him diligently 
 whom we reverence, and fear to displease. Thus 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 163 
 
 much for explication. The text 13 too short to be di- 
 vided into many parts, but doth naturally fall asunder 
 into two; the former exciting and encouraging our joy; 
 the latter qualifying and moderating the same. First, 
 we are allowed, yea, and commanded to rejoice; and 
 then we are cautioned to do it with trembling. And 
 accordingly our discourse shall run in these two heads; 
 first, to exhort you to cheerfulness and joy; then to set 
 the right boimds and limits to the same: and, having 
 done this in general, we shall endeavour to draw both 
 these home to the present occasion. 
 
 To begin with the first: Joy and cheerfulness are so 
 far from being inconsistent with religion, when rightly 
 ordered, that we find them many times allowed and re- 
 commended in Scripture. Thus in the last verse of the 
 32d Psalm, Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye right- 
 eous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart. 
 And in verse 1, of the next Psalm, Rejoice in the Lord, 
 O ye righteous, for praise is comely for the upright. So 
 Psal. Ixviii. 3. Let the righteous be glad: let them re- 
 joice before the Lord, yea, let them exceedingly rejoice. 
 Psal. cxlix. 5. Let the saints be joyful iu glory: let 
 them sing aloud upon their beds. And, that you may 
 not think this a liberty proper only for the former dis- 
 pensations, but that Christians are obliged to greater se- 
 verity, the Apostle doth no lefes than three times give 
 this admonition to the Philippians, Rejoice in the Lord; 
 Rejoice always in the Lord; yea, I say, Rejoice. In re- 
 lation to this perhaps it was, that the old hermit Palladi- 
 us, havirg five hundred scholars, used never to dismiss 
 them without this admonition, My friends, be cheerful; 
 forget not, I beseech you, to be cheerful. This was the 
 constant lecture he repeated, as often as St. John was 
 wont to do these words, My little children, love one 
 another. 
 
 None of our natural inclinations were made in vain ; 
 and joy is neither a useless nor a small passion; but, if 
 rightly ordered, may become an eminent exercise of re^ 
 ligion, as proper a concomitant of thankfulness, as sor- 
 row of repentance. Our devotion never soareth higher, 
 
164 ox THE NATIVITY. 
 
 than when it is carried on the wings of joy and love, 
 when our souls are filled with the sense of his goodness, 
 and we heartily applaud the Hallelujahs of the blessed 
 spirits, and all the praises of the creatures. And as joy 
 is an excellent instrument of devotion, so a constant se- 
 renity and cheerfulness of spirit is a fit disposition for 
 our other duties. I should be loth to countenance any 
 levity or dissolution of spirit; and I hope, before we have 
 done, we shall leave no ground to suspect such a design: 
 and yet I would not have you imagine that innocence 
 and severity are inseparable companions, or that a free 
 and cheerful countenance is a certain sign of an ill mind, 
 or that men ought always to be sad, under the notion of 
 being serious. I would not have you in love with a 
 studied face, nor think it a crime to laugh, or scrupulous- 
 ly to refuse such innocent and ingenious divertisements 
 as you find useful to refresh your spirits, and preserve 
 their alacrity: for cheerfulness enlightens the mind, and 
 encourages the heart, and raiseth the soul, as it were to 
 breathe in a purer air. It misbecomes none but the 
 wicked, in whom it is commonly a light mirth and fool- 
 ish jollity. As a curious dress may set oft' a handsome 
 face, which yet will render those who are ugly, more ill- 
 favoured ; so doth cheerfulness exceedingly become good 
 souls; in bad men it is most ridiculous. On the other 
 hand, a sad and sullen humour, a dumpish, morose, and 
 melancholy disposition, is so far from being commenda- 
 ble, that at best it must be looked upon as an infirmity 
 and weakness in the best of those in whom it resideth; 
 and if purposely afl^ected or cherished, may deserve a 
 severe censure; being dishonourable to God, injurious 
 to our neighbours, prejudicial to ourselves, and a thing 
 highly unreasonable, tirst, it is dishonourable to God, 
 on whom we profess to depend, and who, through our 
 moroseness, may be mistaken for a hard and severe mas- 
 ter. If you should observe any man's servants to be al- 
 ways sad and dejected, and could not guess at the reason 
 of it, you would be ready to conclude, that they were iU 
 treated at home, and served an unkind, tyrannical person. 
 Aod therefore, if we have any regard to the honour of 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 165 
 
 our master, we ought carefully to avoid any thing, from 
 which those that are strangers to him, are apt to take oc- 
 casion to entertain harsh and disadvantageous thoughts 
 of him and his service. Again, it is injurious to our 
 neighbours; whom it doth deprive of the comforts of soci- 
 ety, and the innocent deHghts of more cheerful converse; 
 it being better to be confined to solitude than obliged to 
 live with those who are always sullen. They are not 
 like to be good company to others, who are so bad com- 
 pany to themselves ; nor will they easily endure to see 
 others cheerful and pleasant, when they cannot allow 
 themselves so much as to smile. Peevishness and anger 
 are the ordinary companions of melancholy; and it is 
 hard for servants and friends to please them in any thing 
 who are accustomed to sadness and discontent. But this 
 is not all: there is a greater mischief in the matter; for 
 they who are strangers to religion, and observe them 
 who pretend to it to be always sad and melancholy, are 
 thereby deterred from the study of piety, as that which 
 would imbitter their lives, and deprive them of all their 
 comforts; and they are apt to imagine, that if once they 
 should undertake a course of godliness, they should nev- 
 er after enjoy a pleasant hour, but, by a melancholy hu- 
 mour, and austere behaviour, become a burden to them- 
 selves, and a burden to all about them. Then they will 
 think devotion a comfortless employment, when they 
 see men come from retirements with sad and heavy 
 looks, morose and untowardly deportment: whereas 
 really the spirit of religion is in itself most amiable and 
 most lovely, most cheerful, free and ingenuous; and it is 
 only men's weakness, and not their piety, that ought to 
 be blamed for any such disorder in their minds. 
 
 Again, melancholy and sadness is prejudicial to our- 
 selves, being an enemy to nature, and hurtful to bodily 
 constitutions, especially when it grows prevalent and 
 extreme; and therefore men are obliged to be cheerful 
 for the same reasons they take physic, and to guard 
 against melancholy as we would do against a disease. 
 Besides, it is very troublesome to our spirits, and will 
 make us smart even when we Icnow not why. Al- 
 
166 OIC THE NATIVITY. 
 
 though melancholy musings may be a very delightful 
 entertainment to the mind; yet, in a little time, they 
 grow to be very troublesome. Contrary to the nature 
 of other births, they please us much while we bring 
 them forth, but, prove a miserable torment when they 
 are born. But, which is much worse, it doth exceed- 
 ingly indispose for the duties of religion. The eyes 
 are not more darkened with fumes and vapours, than 
 the understanding is when those sullen exhalations gath- 
 er about us. Clogs are not a greater impediment to the 
 feet, than this humour to the motions of the soul. It 
 inclines not oifly to think worse of ourselves and our 
 condition than we need, but to do worse than other- 
 wise we should. It represents those things as exceed- 
 ingly difficult which may be done with ease, and those 
 impossible which have any considerable difficulty. It 
 quite dispirits us, and will not suffer us to attempt any 
 thing, because we imagine we can do nothing. Al- 
 though, perhaps, in a heat it may push us forward, yet 
 it suddenly stays us, and makes us think we cannot go. 
 If it catcheth fire, it makes us wild; and, when it hath 
 spent that flame, it leaves us dead and dumpish. 
 
 Lastly, sadness and dejection of spirit in Christians, 
 is a thing very unreasonable: for why should they be sad 
 and heavy who serve so good a master, and who are 
 assured of an infinite reward for their faithful service.' 
 If the favour of a prince, or hopes of some earthly ad- 
 vantage, can support and cheer the minds of men; why 
 should not religious people, who have the friendship of 
 God, and so many divine blessings in present possession, 
 and the certain expectation of more and greater, cherish 
 a perpetual joy, and ever be of good comfort; What 
 should afflict them or cast them down? Is it worldly 
 crosses or fears? They have not their portions in the 
 things of this world: they are strangers and pilgrims on 
 earth, and cannot in reason be much solicitous about 
 their accommodation in an inn, which they are so short- 
 ly to leave. Besides, where is he that doth not enjoy 
 more and greater comforts than those he is deprived and 
 •tands in need of? Why then shouldst thou not be more 
 
ON THE NATIVITT. 167 
 
 glad of what thou hast, than sorry for what thou want- 
 est? Perhaps thou hast lost part of thy fortune, but yet 
 enjoyest more than many who live happily enough not- 
 withstanding. Thou wantest money, but thou hast thy 
 health. If that be impaired, thou enjoyest the use of 
 thy reason, which is infinitely more valuable. Thou 
 hast lost a friend, but perhaps thou hast many behind; 
 and shall that loss do more to make thee sad, than all 
 the rest to make thee cheerful? Or wilt thou, like a 
 peevish child, throw all away, because something is 
 taken from thee.' I say not that moderate sadness is 
 blamable on such occasions, but that our grief ought not 
 to be indulged till it grows habitual. And sure what- 
 ever our crosses and our fears be, we ought cheerfully to 
 acquiesce in a constant dependence on the divine prov- 
 idence; having that infinite wisdom, and goodness, 
 and power, which made and doth govern the world, to 
 care for us, and the promise of God for all those things 
 which he sees necessary or convenient for us. What 
 is it then that should deject us, and deprive us of that 
 joy which the text alloweth and commendeth? Is it 
 the sense of our weakness, and the fear of missing that 
 eternal happiness for which we were created? If thou 
 be altogether graceless, such thoughts would seldom 
 trouble thee; but if thou be really concerned in re- 
 ligion, and have a mind to heaven in earnest; if thou 
 hast begun thy race, and art pressing forward to obtain 
 thy prize, thou hast no reason to be discouraged or cast 
 down. God loves thee better than thou dost either 
 him or thyself; and holiness is the genuine issue of 
 the divine nature: and therefore he cannot hide his face 
 from it, he cannot desert it as an outcast thing in the 
 world; nay, he is ready to cherish and assist it, and 
 perfect that gracious work which himself hath begun. 
 Away then with gi-oundless fears and despondent 
 thoughts, which dishonour God, and weaken your own 
 hands. Encourage yourselves with the assurance of the 
 divine assistance, and cheerfully perform that which 
 is incumbent upon yourselves. Check the sadness of 
 your spirits, and chide yourself into better temper; as 
 
168 ON THE NATIVITY. 
 
 David did, in Psal. xlii. and xliii. He took up his 
 drooping mind, with this encouragement, Why art thou 
 cast down, O my soul? &c. 
 
 But perhaps you will tell me, that cheerful temper 
 which we recommend, is very improper for these bad 
 times wherein we live-: and, though we had no trouble 
 on account of our own interests, the miseries of others 
 might oblige us to sadness, and blunt and damp all our 
 joys. I answer, compassion indeed is a Christian vir- 
 tue, and a good man will be concerned in the miseries 
 under which he sees his neighbour groan, and be ready 
 to assist him with his counsel, his labour, or his purse, 
 if that will relieve him. But he is not obliged to suffer 
 the calamities of others to sink so deeply into his spirit, 
 as to disturb the peace and harmony of his soul, else, 
 since the world is a great hospital of misery, and we see 
 wellnigh as many miserable persons as men, we must 
 needs draw as much misery on ourselves, as all theirs 
 doth amount to, and so deserve more compassion than 
 any of them. Again, if we partake of the miseries of 
 others, so may we in their happiness; if we ought to 
 mourn with those that mourn, so we ought to rejoice 
 with them that rejoice. And though misery is far more 
 frequent in the world than happiness, this can be no 
 measure for the whole creation; and for any thing we 
 know, for one sinful wretch, there may be ten thousand 
 holy and happy spirits. However, all the misery in the 
 world carries no proportion to the infinite happiness of 
 Almighty God, which ought to be the highest object of 
 our joy, and may drown and swallow up all the excuses 
 or pretences of excessive sadness. We ought to rejoice 
 in God, not only that he is our God, but that he is God 
 infinitely holy, and infinitely happy; that he is self-bless- 
 ed, glorious in all things; and that his enemies cannot 
 reach nor unsettle his throne. This is the most certain, 
 and constant, the most pure and heavenly joy. 
 
 There retnaineth yet one occasion of grief, which some 
 may think enough to banish all joy from a Christian 
 soul; and that is, the multitude of sins whereof we and 
 others are gnilty- And certainly, contrition, and zeal 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 160 
 
 for the honour of God, are very necessary duties; yet 
 we were not born only to mourn, nor is the lainenl<ing 
 of sin all we have to do in the world. We love to see 
 a servant sensible of his fault, but would be ill-content 
 if on that account he did nothing but weep. Sadness in 
 contrition is necessary to make our repentance serious, 
 and sadness of zeal to testify our coneernment in God's 
 interest; but on neither of these accounts ought we to 
 grieve without terra or measure. As we ought to grieve 
 that we have offended so gracious a God, so ought we 
 to rejoice that the God whom we have offended is so 
 gracious: and since the greatness of God's mercy is as 
 far above our sins, as the heavens are above the earth, 
 our faith and joy in God's mercy ought to be far above 
 our sadness for our sins. Whereas the blasphemies and 
 oppositions of God's eriemies, by his wisdom and pow- 
 er, shall turn to his glory ; our sadness for these oppo- 
 sitions must end in joy, for that almighty power and 
 sovereign glory, which the enmity of Satan, and the 
 world, and the flesh, doth but make more conspicuous 
 by pulling against it. 
 
 By this time I hope it doth appear, that joy and cheer- 
 fulness are more allowable in Christians, than some men 
 perhaps are ready to imagine. I shall add no more to 
 this purpose; but that it is the privilege of a holy and 
 religious soul, that every thing he meets with may afford 
 him occasion of joy. If he Looks up to heaven, it puts 
 him in mind of the mansions that are preparing for him; 
 if on the earth, it rejoiceth him to think of his interest 
 in Him who made and governs the same. If he con- 
 siders the changes and revolutions of human affairs, it 
 satisfies him to remember, that an unerring providence 
 doth overrule all their seeming disorders, and makes 
 them all serve to great and glorious designs. If he live 
 long, he is glad of the large time he is allowed to do 
 his work in; and, if he die soon, he is glad that he is so 
 soon come to the end and reward of his work. If he 
 be richer than his neighbours, he rejoiceth in the op- 
 portunity of obliging them; and, if they be richer than 
 he, he rejoiceth that they have the plenty and splendoar 
 15 
 
170 OW THE WATIVITY. 
 
 which riches afford, and that he wants the care and 
 temptations that attend them. As many miseries as he 
 seeth, so many arguments he hath to glorify God, and 
 rejoice in his goodness, saying, Blessed be God that I 
 am not maimed like that begging soldier, nor frantic like 
 that bedlamite, nor in prison like that bankrupt, nor like 
 that thief in shackles, nor in perpetual trouble like that 
 counsellor of state. 
 
 But joy is a passion so pleasing unto nature, that most 
 men ar« easily persuaded unto it, those especially who 
 have the least ground for it. And what we have said 
 hitherto, may have the ill luck to be mivStaken or wrested 
 by profane persons, for the defence of their jollity and 
 frolicksome mirth. But it should be considered, that our 
 exhortation to cheerfulness and joy presupposeth men to 
 be good and religious, and is addressed to them on that 
 presumption: for we should never encourage men to re- 
 joice and be cheerful, while they are at enmity with 
 their maker, at feud with the infinite Majesty of heaven, 
 whose least frown is enough to confound them. We 
 would not have men to dance on the brink of hell, nor 
 wantonly exult in the way that leads to destruction. 
 Another temper would better become their unhappy 
 condition, and they ought to be thinking how a timely 
 sorrow may lay a sure foundation for a lasting joy. 
 Again, the joy which we commend, is a quite diflerent 
 thing from that levity and dissolution of spirit whi<;h 
 some persons would cover under that name. We allow 
 not that light airy temper that is inconsistent with gra- 
 vity and seriousness. We would not have a man'g 
 whole life become a sport, nor mirth to become his 
 whole employment. Of such laughter we may say, 
 with the wise man, that it is mad; and of mirth. What 
 doth it? The cheerfulness we have been speaking of, 
 must spring from the sense of the divine goodness, and 
 the conscience of our sincerity in his service; though we 
 are not to refuse the assistance of innocent acts to raise 
 and recruit our natural spirits when they faint and fail 
 within us. Finally, that our cheerfulness and joy may be 
 allowable, it must be rightly tempered. Which leads 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 171 
 
 me to the second part of the text; which if it do not 
 check, it doth at least mix and qualify our joy: rejoice 
 we may, but it must be with trembling. Trembling is a 
 natural effect and sign of fear; and is here put for the 
 thing signified. Now, fear may seem to be the most 
 useless and unprofitable passion in the mind: it is that 
 which presages mischief and anticipates our miseries, 
 giving them a being before they had any, and troubling 
 us with the apprehension of those evils which may 
 never befall us, and hindering us to guard against many 
 which we might have prevented: betraying those suc- 
 cours which reason offereth, as the wise sou of David 
 tells us. The historian, speaking of the Persians, who 
 in their flight flung away their weapons of defence, add- 
 eth this observation. Adeo timor ipsa auxilia i'efor~ 
 midat: Such is the nature of fear, that it not only 
 makes us flee from danger, but from those helps and 
 succours which should keep it off. But, as Alexander 
 said of his fierce and stately horse, Qualem isti eguum 
 perdunt, dum eo perimperitiam uti nesciunt! What 
 a brave horse is lost for want of skill to manage him! 
 so we may say of fear, that they who would discharge 
 it, do lose a useful passion, not knowing how to order 
 it. Fear, doubtless, is an excellent instrument, both of 
 reason and of religion. And as all our passions, so 
 especially fear, are as winds, which although they some- 
 times drive us upon rocks, yet, rightly improved, may 
 swell our sails, and carry us on to the haven where we 
 would be. Hence we may find it so frequently com- 
 manded in Scripture, and so profitably practised by wise 
 and holy persons. The question then is. What kind of 
 fear and trembling is enjoined here in the text? And, 
 first, as for the object, certainly the wrath and displea- 
 sure of God is the most proper and suitable object of our 
 fear: it is this that we ought to look on as the greatest 
 evil, and to shun with the greatest care. And this fear, 
 if rightly seated in our souls, will make us very watch- 
 ful against the smallest sins, and make us heartily sor- 
 ry for the offences of others. But though the fear of 
 God's displeasure be more excellent and useful, yet th© 
 
172 ON THE NATlrlTI. 
 
 fear of our own misery is not to be condemned: it is use- 
 ful, not only to wicked persons, whom though it doth 
 not make good, yet it keeps them from being worse; 
 but also to holy persons, whom the fear of hell hath 
 many times helped forward to heaven. Our Saviour 
 himself adviseth us to fear him who can cast body and 
 soul into hell-fire. And, that we may not forget it, he 
 drives it home with an ingemination. Yea, I say unto 
 you, Fear him; where we are to observe, that qui im- 
 ports as much as quia; the description of the person car- 
 rieth the reason for which we ought to fear him. It were 
 indeed to be wished, that our souls were knit unto God 
 by the more noble and generous passion of love, and that 
 we needed neither rewards to draw us to our duty, nor 
 punishments to chase us to our happiness; and that we 
 loved goodness as Cato was said to do virtue, because 
 he could not do othenvise. But this is, with the histo- 
 rian, votum accommodare, non historiam; to present 
 a wish, rather than a character of an ordinary Christian; 
 or, as Xenophon did with Cyrus, to describe rather 
 what he should be, than what he is. Perfect love, as 
 St. John tells us, casteth out all fear: but, while our love 
 is imperfect, it leaves room for some fear. Hell is cer- 
 tainly in our creed as well as heaven; and as the fear of 
 it is ordinarily the first step of conversion, so it may be 
 of use to quicken us, and push us forward all along 
 through our journey toward heaven. But if Christiana 
 fear may have hell for its object, what kind of fear may 
 this be? In a word, it ought not to be such an anxious 
 and troublesome fear, as may disturb our tranquillity, or 
 extinguish our joy, or discourage our endeavours; but so 
 rational and modest as may make us reverend in our 
 love, modest in our confidence, and cautious in our joy, 
 that it neither betray us to, nor vent itself m any un- 
 seemly expressions. 
 
 And thus much of the duty recommended in the text. 
 It is high time now to apply these generals to the present 
 occasion. We are assembled this day to commemorate 
 the greatest blessing that ever was bestowed on the chil- 
 dren of men; a ble^ing wherein all the nations of the 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 173 
 
 world are concerned, and yet whose fruits do as entirely 
 redound to every good man, as if it had been designed 
 for him alone; a mercy that doth at once astonish and 
 rejoice the angels, who in comparison of us are uncon- 
 cerned in it. These mountains do leap for joy, because 
 the valleys were filled with a fruitful shower: for when 
 those glorious spirits did behold God stooping to the con- 
 dition of a man, and man raised above the lowliness of 
 his state, and the happiness of all the angels, they were 
 transported with admiration of the mystery, and joy 
 for the felicity of their fellow-creatures: and did with 
 the greatest cheerfulness perform the embassies they 
 were sent upon in this great aflfeir. For having before 
 advertised the blessed virgin of her miraculous concep- 
 tion, lest her modesty should have been offended at so 
 strange an accident, and having removed the suspicion 
 of her betrothed husband, they rejoice to bring the first 
 news of that infinite mercy which we remember this 
 day. For as certain shepherds were feeding their flocks 
 by night, an angel of the Lord appeared unto them, 
 and the glory of the Lord shone round about them ; and 
 when this glorious appearance had confounded their 
 senses, and almost scattered their understanding, the an- 
 gel said unto them. Fear not; for behold, I bring unto 
 you tidings of great joy, which shall be unto all people. 
 For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a 
 Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And suddenly there 
 was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, the 
 whole choir of glorious spirits, who all joined in this 
 heavenly anthem, Glory to God on high, on earth peace, 
 and good-will towards men. And may not that help to 
 heighten and advance our joy and our thankfulness? 
 Can we be insensible of our happiness when angels do 
 so heartily congratulate it? It is a nativity which we 
 celebrate, and any birth doth much rejoice persons inter- 
 ested: a woman forgets her pangs when a man-child 
 is born into the world. 
 
 But, that our joy and thankfulness may be the more 
 ^XGited, we shall, first, consider the excellency of the 
 15* 
 
174 ON THE NATIVITY. 
 
 person who was born: secondly, the design of his birth; 
 and, thirdly, glance a little at the circumstances of it. 
 
 First, then, he was no common and ordinary person 
 whose birth occasions our joy. If we shall but fix our 
 eyes on his human nature, and consider those excellen- 
 cies that were obvious to the eyes of the world, we 
 shall yet acknowledge, that never such a person appear- 
 ed on the face of the earth. It is he whose nativity 
 was promised immediately after the fall, and so exactly 
 pointed at by the Prophets many hundred years before 
 it happened, that the Jews could tell the place, and the 
 very heathens had some knowledge of the time: for the 
 world was big with expectation, that the prophecies 
 should then be fulfilled, which foretold the birth of a 
 great person. Lastly, it is he whose very infancy not 
 only startled a king, and made him fear his throne, but 
 also affrighted the powers of darkness, and silenced 
 the heathen oracles, Ille puer Hehrcous, &c. ; whose 
 childhood puzzled the knowledge of the aged, and con- 
 founded the doctors of the law; who ruled the course 
 of nature, and made the strong winds obey him, and 
 could walk on the billows of the seas as on a pave- 
 ment; who fed multitudes by his word, and healed 
 all manner of diseases without medicine; who could 
 command them to leap that were cripple, and make 
 them see the heavens and the day who had been bom 
 blind; and who could cast devils out of their possessions, 
 and restore the frantic to their wits; who could break 
 the gates of death, and' open the doors of the grave, 
 and call back the spirits to the buried carcasses. 
 
 It is he, who, by the ministry of twelve fishermen, 
 made his religion, though contrary to the corrupt affec- 
 tions and carnal interests of men, quickly subdue the 
 known world, and submit to a crucified king. The 
 doctrine which he taught, mastered the understanding of 
 the most learned philosophers, conquered the spirits of 
 the most valiant commanders, and outwitted the cun- 
 ning of the subtlest politicians: it cancelled the ceremo- 
 nies of the Jew, confounded the wisdom of the Greek, 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 175 
 
 and instructed the rudeness of the barbarian; and re- 
 mains still in the world a constant evidence of the au- 
 thor's wisdom and power. And what shall we speak 
 of the goodness and moral endowments of that human 
 nature, which were as miraculous as his power! Nay, all 
 his miracles were instances of the one as well as of the 
 other. Should we speak of his ardent piety and devo- 
 tion, his love to God, and his zeal for his honour, his 
 amiable meekness and humility, his universal charity 
 and compassion even toward his bitter enemies, his 
 venerable purity and temperance, the noble contempt 
 of the world, all those other virtues which shined so 
 eminently in his whole conversation: a sermon were 
 too little for every particular. But this is not all: He 
 was not only far above other men, but infinitely above 
 the angels; being personally united to the divine nature. 
 He was God as well as man. And, by communica- 
 tion of properties, it may be said, that he whom we 
 now behold in a cradle, hath his throne in the heaven, 
 and fiUeth all things by his immensity; that he who was 
 wrapt in swaddling clothes, is now clothed in hifinite 
 glory; and he whom we find in a stable among beasts, 
 is the same with him encircled with millions of angels. 
 In a word, that great person whose nativity we cele- 
 brate, is divinely embodied, God made flesh. This 
 union of the divine and human nature, is a mystery 
 great enough to confound our understanding, but not to 
 trouble or shake our faith, who know many things to 
 be which we cannot know how they are, and are not 
 able to give any account of the union between the soul 
 and the body, or of the parts of nature among them- 
 selves, which yet we never call in question. 
 
 And thus much of the dignity of Christ's person, 
 which is the first ground of our joy; we proceed to the 
 second, the design of his birth. He was lord of the -- 
 world; but came not into it to exercise dominion, nor as 
 the Jews expected, to procure their temporal redemption, 
 and restore the kingdom to Israel. He came not for so 
 mean a purpose as the Jews expected, to procure their 
 temporal redemption, to make his followers rich and 
 
176 ON THE NATIVITY. 
 
 honourable, fortunate or conspicuous in the world; nay, 
 hoth by precept and example he taught them to contemn 
 and despise all such empty trifles: but he came to de- 
 liver his people from everlasting destruction, and from 
 the captivity of sin, and to teach them how by a holy- 
 life they might obtain an endless happiness. He came 
 not indeed to purchase ns a liberty to sin, without haz- 
 ard, and then to cover all our iniquities with his right- 
 eousness; to let us live as we list, and assure us of par- 
 don. Nay, it had neither been consistent with his love 
 to God, to have procured pardon for obstinate and in- 
 corrigible rebels; nor so great a benefit to us, to have 
 obtained remission without sanctification. Had we been 
 delivered from all other punishment, sin itself would 
 have made us miserable. But Christ came into the 
 world to save his people from their sins, as Avell as 
 from the dismal consequences of them; and to procure 
 for us, that, being delivered out of the hands of our 
 enemies, we might serve him without fear, in holiness 
 and righteousness before him. In a word, Christ came 
 into the world to advance the glory of God, and the 
 happiness of the earth, by restoring us to the favour of 
 our maker, and a conformity to him. And certainly, 
 if we have any sense of the evil of sin or the misery of 
 hell, of the beauty of holiness or the glory of heaven, 
 it must needs be a matter of great joy, to celebrate the 
 birth of him who doth deliver us from the one, and 
 give us assurance of the other. 
 
 It remaineth yet, that we speak of the circumstances 
 of the nativity which we celebrate; and many thin^ 
 present themselves full of comfort and instruction. We 
 shall only observe our Saviour's coming into the world 
 after that manner which did best suit with his design. 
 Indeed when a man should hear of the Son of God's 
 coming down from heaven, and making a progress into 
 the lower world, he would be apt to think that his ap- 
 pearance would be with the greatest splendour and 
 magnificence, and that the glory of heaven should con- 
 tinually attend and signalize his person; at least, that 
 ^11 the princes in the world should be summoned to at- 
 
ON THE NATIVITY. 177 
 
 tend his reception, and that the heavens should bow at 
 his presence, and the earth tremble at the approach of 
 his majesty, and that all the clouds should clap together 
 in an universal thunder, to welcome his appearance. 
 But, instead of all this pomp and grandeur, he slips into 
 the world (as they say) incognito, is born in a village, 
 discovered by some poor shepherds, and found by them 
 in a stable, and such a homely cradle as that afforded, 
 only attended by his poor mother; who, though of royal 
 blood, had nothing but goodness to make her eminent. 
 And his education was answerable to his obscure birth, 
 and his whole life a course of humility and self-denial. 
 Now certainly, this far best agrees with the design of 
 his appearance, who came not on so mean an errand as 
 to dazzle the eyes of mankind with the appearance of 
 his glory, nor to amaze them with the terribleness of 
 his majesty; much less to make a show of the riches 
 and gallantry of the world amongst them ; but to bring 
 life and immortality to light, and lead men to eternal 
 happiness. In order to which, it was n cessary, that, 
 by his example, as well as doctrine, he should dispar- 
 age the vanities of the world, and bring them out of 
 that credit and esteem they had gotten among foolish 
 men. 
 
 I shall proceed no farther on this subject. I hope it 
 doth appear that we have great reason to rejoice in the 
 exaltation of the human nature, and the great salvation 
 purchased to us by the incarnation of the Son of God. 
 1 shall add, that even this joy admits of holy fear; even 
 on this occasion we must rejoice with trembling. Sal- 
 vation is come into the world; but wo to them that neg- 
 lect it' The gospel is preached; but there is great dan- 
 ger in slighting it. Let us therefore fear, lest a promise 
 being left us of entering into his rest, any of us should 
 come short of it. Little cause have obstinate sinners to 
 rejoice on this festival. The time is coming that they 
 shall wish that either Christ had never come into the 
 world, or they had never heard of him: Behold, this 
 child is set for the rise and fall of many. And they 
 that are not the better, shall be the worse for his com- 
 
178 ON THE PASSIOW, 
 
 ing. One way I mu.st name, that many men set this 
 child for their own fall, when they make this solemn an- 
 niversary an opportunity of sinning and debauchery; as 
 if it where indeed a drunken Bacchus, and not a holy 
 Jesus, whom they worshipped. What! sirs, because 
 God became man, must we therefore become beasts? or 
 think we to honour that child with dissoluteness, who 
 came to the world on design of holiness? This it is, no 
 doubt, that gives many men a prejudice against the fes- 
 tival itself, and perhaps is their most specious argument. 
 We know an answer; but you may, and ought to afford 
 another, by removing any ground of such a pretence. 
 Indeed a forenoon's sermon will never compensate an 
 afternoon's debauch; nor will your service in the church 
 justify your intemperance at home. But as hereby at 
 least some time is redeemed from the too frequent cours- 
 es of the day, so I wish the time we spend here, may 
 have some influence towards the right improvement of 
 the rest; that our behaviour on the solemnity may be 
 such as suits .vith the infinite holiness of that person 
 whom we profess to honour, that we may serve th^ 
 Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. 
 
 ON THE PASSION OF OUR SAVIOUR. 
 
 LAM. I. 12, 
 
 Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? behold 
 and see, if there be any sorrow like unto my 
 sorrow. 
 
 Wk are to-morrow, God willing, to be employed in 
 one of the highest and n)Ost solemn othces of our religion, 
 to commemorate the death and sufferings of the blessed 
 Jesus, and to receive the sacred pledge of his dying: and 
 how much may the everlasting interests of our souls de-- 
 pend upon the right performing of this work! 
 
CN THE PAS-SIOW. 17d 
 
 It is not tiriK; now to discourse of the natnre and ends 
 of the sacrament we are about to celebrate; we are to 
 suppose you already instructed in these: we shall rather 
 fix our thoughts on those things which may have a more 
 immediate influence to dispose us for so near and sol- 
 emn an address unto God, and to assist and direct us in 
 it. And 1 know nothing more proper for this purpose, 
 than the serious consideration of those sufferings of our 
 Saviour, which are to be symbolically represented unto 
 us in that holy ordinance. 
 
 This passionate complaint of the prophet Jeremiahj 
 which we have read, though in its first and literal sense 
 it may refer to the sad condition of the Jewish nation 
 and the holy city under the Babylonish captivity, (as 
 many prophecies concerning the Messiah had a literal 
 completion in those who were his types;) yet certainly 
 in its highest and fullest sense it is only applicable to our 
 blessed Saviour: of him alone it could be said, in strict- 
 ness and propriety of speech, that there was never sor* 
 row like his sorrow. 
 
 Let us then consider the words as our Saviour's com- 
 plaint of the dulness and stupidity of men, who go up 
 and down in the world, who come and pass, without re- 
 garding his sufterings, which were so grievous, wherein 
 themselves are so nearly concerned. And from thence 
 I would consider these three things. 
 
 1. The greatness of our Saviour's euff'erings, express* 
 ed in these words, See if there be any sorroio like 
 unto my sorrow. 
 
 2. Our interest and concernment in them, insinuated 
 in that passionate inteiTOgation, Is it nothing to youl 
 
 3. That his sivfterings ought not to be passed by, but 
 seriously regarded and considered: Is it nothing to 
 you, all ye that pass by? ^'c. 
 
 I. Let us reflect on our Saviour's sufferings. But O 
 where shall we begin to recount them! His whole life, 
 from the manger, his uneasy cradle, unto his cross and 
 grave, was a continued tract of sufferings. He did all 
 along answer that character given of him by the Proph- 
 et, A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. 
 
180 ON THE PASSION. 
 
 To say nothing of the meanness of his birth, and the 
 pains of circumcision, tl>e persecutions of his infancy, 
 his poverty and want, his travail and weariness; his 
 fasting and watching, his sweat and his tears, and all 
 the other infirmities incident to our human nature, and 
 inconveniences attending a poor and straitened estate; 
 he could not but lead a very sad and afflicted life, con- 
 sidering that he lived in a perverse and wicked genera- 
 tion, and the continual trouble of being witness to the 
 follies and miscarriages of wicked men; to hear and see 
 dishonour done unto God by the profaneness of some, 
 and hypocrisy of others; to observe the covetousness 
 and injustice, the fraud and oppression, the malice and 
 envy, and all the abominable lusts that abounded in the 
 world in his days. We are commonly little concerned 
 in the interests of religion; and therefore do apprehend 
 but little trouble in these. But, if the soul of righteous 
 Lot was grieved with the iniquities of the place where 
 he lived, and if David is put to cry out. Wo is me that 
 I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar; 
 how deeply do we think the blessed soul of the holy 
 Jesus must needs have been pierced, by every blasphe- 
 mous word that he heard, by every wicked action he be- 
 held! Doubtless it was no small sorrow that made him 
 cry out, O faithless and perverse generation, how long 
 shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you? Nor 
 was he a little moved, when his zeal did carry him to 
 that severity, vv-hich, if we did not consider the cause, 
 would seem very unlike to the wonted meekness of his 
 spirit, in whipping the trader^out of the temple. And 
 hereunto his tender compassion towards men, which 
 could not but make him exceeding sorry, to see them 
 frustrate the method of his mercy, and ruin themselves by 
 their enmity against him ; to hear them reproach the holy 
 doctrine which he taught, and undervalue the miracles 
 which he performed, or else condemn them as the un- 
 lawful effects of magical skill; that though he came un- 
 to his own, yet his own received him not; though he 
 spake as never man spake, and did such works as would 
 have converted Tyre and Sidon, yet did they baffle their 
 
ON fHE PASSION. 181 
 
 own reason, and persist in their infidelity, because, for- 
 sooth, they knew the phice and manner of his education; 
 as though his being reputed the carpenter's son, had been 
 a sufficient answer to all that he could say or do. This 
 was the occasion of his tears over that wretched and un- 
 grateful city: O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest 
 the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, 
 how often would I have gathered thy children together, 
 even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, 
 and ye would not! If thou hadst known, even thou, at 
 least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy 
 peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes. 
 
 We have no time to reflect on all the sad passages 
 which occur in the history of our Saviour's life; let us 
 fix our eyes a little on some of the last scenes^ and we 
 shall find them the blackest that ever were acted on the 
 human nature. At the approach of death, it is said, he 
 began to be sorrowful, as if he had never felt any grief 
 before. His former afflictions were like scattered drop3 
 of rain; but, in this great deluge, all the fountains be- 
 neath, and all the windows of heaven were opened; the 
 wrath of God against a sinful world, the malice and 
 cruelty of men, the rage and fury of devils, break out 
 together against him. If we take the measure of his 
 sufferings by the apprehensions which he had of them 
 before, we shall find that, when he is talking with his 
 disciples about them, and encouraging himself and his 
 followers with the assurance of the reward set before 
 them; yet he doth not dissemble the fear and trouble 
 wherewith he was seized: Now is my soul troubled; and 
 what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour, &c. 
 Certainly, if there had been no more in his sufferings 
 than what is commonly incident to human nature, as to 
 endure pain or death, he who had a perfect innocency, 
 the freest and most entire resignation, the fullest assur- 
 ance of the reward to come, would never have been half 
 so much affrighted with the apprehension of them. The 
 view of that sad night's transaction, wherein he was 
 delivered into the hands of sinners, presents us with a 
 strange and amazing spectacle. Look into the garden, 
 16 
 
182 ON THE PA6S!0N. 
 
 and behold the Son of God prostrate with his face upou 
 the ground, in the saddest discomposure of spirit that 
 could possibly consist with his perfect innocency. He 
 was sorrowful and very heavy, and tells his disciples. 
 My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. It 
 seems, had he remained long in this condition, his own 
 grief would have killed him. Here it was that he suf- 
 fered that which the Evangelist calleth an agony; but 
 what the nature and measures of it were, he alone can 
 tell who did feel it. It is not possible for us to compre- 
 hend the mixture of that bitter cup: yet we may guess 
 some ingredients of it. And, first, without question, he 
 had a clearer fiwesight of that painful and cursed death 
 which he was so shortly after to undergo. This king 
 of terrors did represent himself to him in his greatest 
 pomp, clothed with all the circumstances of horror. 
 And even this could not but be very dreadful, perhaps 
 more to him than it would have been to some other per- 
 son. There is a sort of natural stoutness and courage 
 depending much on the temper and constitution of the 
 body, and which doth commonly accompany the rough- 
 est and most stubborn natures; when those of a more 
 sweet and benign disposition, are many times obnoxious 
 to deeper impressions of fear. And it will not derogate 
 from the honour of our blessed Saviour, though we should 
 sarpose, that, amongst other infirmities, he might be 
 much liable to this natural and innocent passion. The 
 true graatness of the soul, doth not consist in the vigour 
 of the natural spirits, nor the sturdy boldness of an un- 
 daunted humour; but in a holy steadfastness and resolu- 
 tion to undergo those things which are dreadful to na- 
 ture. 
 
 But certainly the fear of death was neither the only, 
 nor the greatest thing that troubled our Saviour's spirit 
 at that time. He had another sad and more dreadful 
 prospect, the heinous and innumerable sins of mankind, 
 whose nature he had taken, and whose iniquities he 
 was to bear. He saw the whole world lying in wick- 
 edness, and ready to drop into eternal flames; he saw 
 the anger of God kindled, and his hand lifted ap; and 
 
ON THE PASSION. 183 
 
 he knew that the stroke would light upon himself, and 
 that the chastisement of our peace was to be upon him. 
 
 And, doubtless, it added not a little unto his grief, 
 that he knew all that he had done, and all that he was 
 about to suffer, would be slighted and despised by the 
 greatest part of mankind. It grieved him to think, 
 that many thousands, who were to be called by his 
 name, would prove so base and unthankful, as to reject 
 his love, and baffle his passion, and make a by-word of 
 his blood and wounds; that one would prefer a strumpet, 
 another his cups, a third his gold and money, to the 
 mercies of a gracious God, and the unspeakable kind- 
 ness of a dying Saviour. 
 
 Briefly, in this agony, our Saviour did struggle with 
 the violent passion of fear and grief; which racked his 
 joints, and stretched his sinews, till, in that cold night, 
 and in the open air, a sweat, and that of blood, did is- 
 sue forth, and moisten his garments, and tumbled down 
 unto the ground. Now he came from Bozra with his 
 garments dyed red; he had trodden the wine press alone, 
 and of the people there was none with him. And now 
 behold and see, if there was any sorrow like unto his 
 sorrow. 
 
 But now he awaketh his drowsy disciples, and calls 
 them to rise and be going ; for behold he is at hand that 
 betrays him. And scarce had he spoke the word, when 
 behold the traitor, and with him a great multitude from 
 the chief priests, and elders of the people. They come 
 out as against a thief with swords and staves, for to take 
 him. That monster of ingratitude gives them the sig- 
 nal; and with a horrid impudence, dares approach his 
 infamous and sacrilegious lips to that sacred and vene- 
 rable face ; which we may reckon as the first wound he 
 received from his enemies. O what an indignity, to be 
 kissed by a traitor, an apostate, an en'emy to God, pos- 
 sessed by the devil, and who was to be lodged in hell 
 ere twenty-four hours expired. And O the insuperable 
 meekness of our blessed Savieur, who suffers the indig- 
 nity, and checks it with no harsher terms than this. 
 Friend, wherefore art thou corae.^ Judas, betrayeet thou 
 
i64 ON THE PASSION". 
 
 the son of man with a kiss? Then he turneth unto the 
 armed bands, and said unto them, Whom seek ye? 
 They answered him, Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus saith 
 tmto them, I am he. The meekness of this answer 
 astonished the soldiers, and the power that accompanied 
 it, made them go back and fall to the ground. And 
 why did they not fall into hell? The wicked enterprise 
 they were presently about to do did justly deserve it; 
 and how easy was it for him to have done it? But his 
 goodness restrained him; he meaned them no harm, but 
 intended this fall to help them to rise; that the consid- 
 eration of it, and the other evidences of his divinity, 
 might one day bring them to a sense of their sins. 
 Nor will he any further employ his miraculous power, 
 but only in the cure of an enemy, whom his too for- 
 ward disciple had wounded. But this doth not abate 
 their malice. They lay hold on him, and drag hira 
 away in a great hurry and uproar, through that city 
 where he had done so much good, and into which he 
 had been lately received with joy and triumph, and 
 loud acclamations: Blessed is he that cometh in the 
 name of the Lord. They carry him from Annas to 
 Caiaphas, from Caiaphas to Pilate, from Pilate to Her- 
 od, from Herod to Pilate again ; treating him with all 
 the indignities, all the instances of scorn and contempt 
 that their malice could suggest unto them. Now, 
 though our extreme impatience of ignominies and af- 
 fronts, do much proceed from the pride and haughtiness 
 of our spirits; yet is there in them a contrariety even to 
 the innocent constitution of the human nature. Shame 
 and disgrace are troublesome to all ingenuous spirits; 
 so that, though they could not raise an immoderate pas- 
 sion in our blessed Saviour, yet his blessed spirit had a 
 great abhorrence and detestation of that base and un- 
 worthy usage; which was infinitely heightened by the 
 worth and excellency of the person who suffered it. 
 What loyal heart can read or hear of the indignities 
 done by the rude soldiers to our late sovereign, but 
 with regret and abhorrence: But, alas! what are they, 
 if compared with those that were put upon the king of 
 
ON THK PA39ION. 188 
 
 heaven, when they scoffed and reproached him, when 
 ihey smote him on the cheek, and bound those hands 
 which had cured so many diseases, and defiled that 
 sacred face with spittle, which saints and angels delight 
 to behold? All which he suffered with that meekness 
 which the Prophet had foretold: He gave his back to 
 the smiters, and his cheeks to them that plucked off the 
 hair: he did not hide his face from shame and spitting. 
 They would needs be ingenious in their scoffings, and 
 mock him in all his offices. He was a Prophet, and 
 they desire him to prophesy who it was that did smite 
 him: he was a Priest, and they bid him save himself as 
 he did others: he was a King, and they crown him with 
 thorns, and aiTay him with scarlet, and put a reed in 
 his hand, and, in scorn, salute him. King of the Jews. 
 Add unto this the violence done unto his virgin mod- 
 esty, when he was stripped naked in the view of the rude 
 multitude. It is reported of some virgin martyrs, that 
 God, pitying their grief and trouble to have their nakr>d- 
 ness discovered, when they were to be stripped of their 
 clothes, did cover them with a veil of light, and send 
 them to a modest and desired death. But the holy Je- 
 sus, who refused no shame, endured also this of naked- 
 ness, that we might be clothed with his righteousness. 
 But though it pleased their malice to have him ex- 
 posed to all indignities imaginable; yet nothing would 
 satisfy it but his torment and his death. He hath al- 
 ready had trial of cruel mockings, and now he must 
 have scourgings too: they whip him with violent and 
 unrelenting hands, tearing his tender flesh, and making 
 long furrows in it. And, now, behold the man! behold 
 him in that sad miserable plight wherein Pilate brought 
 him forth, thinking to have appeased the malice of the 
 Jews! his head pierced with briers, his face blue with 
 strokes, his hands bound, that he could not so much as 
 wipe off the blood which trickled down his eyes; his 
 whole body discoloured with the marks of the scourge! 
 From the top of his head, to the sole of his foot there 
 was no soundness in him. Was there ever any sorrow 
 like unto his sorrow? 
 16* 
 
186 ON THE PASSION. 
 
 There remaineth yet another scene, a very sad and 
 dismal one. When nothing could prevail with the Jews, 
 Pilate yieldeth, and delivereth our Saviour to their hands. 
 They carry him away, so faint and weak with what he 
 had already endured, that he could not bear the weight 
 of his cross, but another must carry it for him. But now 
 they nail him unto it, hang him up between two thieves, 
 as the most notorious ofl'ender of the three. It cannot 
 be expressed how painful this kind of death was. The 
 very stretching forth of the arms without any weight, 
 can hardly be endured any considerable time: but, when 
 the weight of the body did hang upon them, and there- 
 by tear the wounds that were made in the hands; when 
 this torment was continued, till pain alone had overcome 
 the power of nature, and forced the soul to dislodge 
 without any hurt to the vital parts, scarce any could be 
 invented more dreadful and cruel; to say nothing of the 
 shame that attended it, being only destined for the mean- 
 est slaves, and the greatest offenders, those whom the 
 lowness of their condition, or the greatness of their 
 crimes, made unworthy of any respect. In this sad and 
 painful posture did our Saviour hang, without any thing 
 to comfort him. The holy angels, who were accustomed 
 to serve him upon other occasions, do now disappear; 
 not one of them to strengthen or relieve him. As for 
 men, miserable comforters are the}' all: the soldiers scoff 
 him; those that pass by exult over him; a companion of 
 his sufferings adds unto them by his reproaches: his dis- 
 ciples had forsaken him; one of them had betrayed him, 
 another forsworn him, a third run away from him naked, 
 that he might not be apprehended with him. Indeed 
 some devout women followed him out of the city; but 
 their compassion did so little ease his grief, that he de- 
 sired them to reserve their tears for the calamities that 
 were to befall themselves: Daughters of Jerusalem, weep 
 not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your chil- 
 dren. He beheld the two persons that were the dear^ 
 est to him in the world, his mother, and his friend, sit- 
 tmg under the cross; but all that they could do was but 
 Xo lament and mourn; and this but redoubled his sorrow, 
 
ON THE PASSION. 187 
 
 His blessed mother was bathed m tears; and felt the ef- 
 fects of old Simeon's prophecy, that a sword should 
 pierce through her soul. And the beloved disciple, who 
 was wont to lie in h\s bosom, lay still very near his 
 heart; and it w^as a real suffering unto him, to see the 
 anguish and sorrow whereinto his sufferings had cast 
 them. Whither then could he look for comfort, but 
 unto heaven? To whom could he flee, but to the arms 
 of his Father? But O what strange, what astonishing 
 words do we hear? My God, my God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me? Wonder, O earth! be astonished, O ye 
 heavens! At this, men and angels admire and stand 
 amazed! goodness and innocence itself forsaken by the 
 author and fountain of goodness, the Son of God desert- 
 ed by his heavenly Father! Certainly the soul of our 
 blessed Saviour was still united to the divine nature, 
 and was still as dear unto his Father as before ; only the 
 joyful sense of the divine love was suspended for a 
 while; the faculties of his soul were discomposed, and a 
 veil, as it were, drawn before the eyes of his mind, 
 which intercepted the light of his Father's countenance; 
 and that he felt not those refreshing emanations, which 
 in the course of his life the Deity conveyed unto him. 
 And, in that sad moment, his mind seems to have been 
 so intent upon his sufferings, that he was diverted from 
 the actual consideration of that glory which he pur- 
 chased by them. Now, to be thus suspended from the 
 perfect vision of God, to be divorced, as it were, from 
 himself, and to lose the sense of those inward comforts 
 which were wont to sustaui him in all his adversities, 
 how cutting must it needs be to his soul, so pure and 
 holy, and which had so high a value for the divine love? 
 Consider then, and see, if ever there was any sorrow 
 like unto this sorrow. 
 
 Now it is finished, the sharp conflict is at a close; one 
 cry more, and the blessed Jesus bowed down his head, 
 and yielded up the ghost. No wonder then if the pow- 
 ers of heaven and earth be moved. The earth trem- 
 bleth and shaketh, the rocks rent, the graves are opened, 
 the vail of the temple was rent in two, the sun himself 
 
188 ON THE PAS9I0N. 
 
 shrunk in his beams, and darkness covered ths face of 
 the earth; which a learned man of Greece is said to have 
 observed at that time, and from thence to have conclud- 
 ed. That either the God of nature suffered violence, or 
 that the frame of the world was about to dissolve: Aut 
 Deus naturcB patitur, aut machina mundi solvitur. 
 Thus we have given you some njde imperfect hints of 
 his great and unspeakable sufferings. But O how little 
 of them do we understand to very good purpose! It was 
 for this reason the ancient fathers of the Greek church in 
 their liturgy, after they have recounted all the particular 
 pains as they are set down in his passion, and by all and 
 every one of them called for mercy, do after all shut up 
 with this supplication: By thine unknown sorrows and 
 sufferings, felt by thee, but not distinctly known by us, 
 have mercy upon us and save us. 
 
 II. We proceed, in the next place, to consider the 
 interest that we have in the suffering of our Saviour: Is 
 it nothing to you? Have you no interest nor concern- 
 ment at all in them! Much, certainly, every way. We 
 were the occasion of his sufferings, and the benefits of 
 them redound unto us. When we see a person under- 
 go any sad and grievous punishment, we cannot choose 
 but inquire into the grounds and occasions of their suf- 
 ferings; and the rather if they have the reputation of in- 
 nocence and integrity. And here not only the most in- 
 nocent, but the most excellent person that ever was in 
 the world, undergoes those dreadful sufferings which we 
 mentioned before; who never had done any sin at all, 
 neither was guile found in his mouth, so that the judge 
 who condemned him, behoved first to condemn himself 
 by a solemn acknowledgement of his innocence, He 
 had gone up and down all his days doing good unto 
 men, and scattering blessings where he came; healing 
 the sick, restoring sight to the blind, and making the 
 lame to walk, the dumb to speak, and the deaf to hear, 
 feeding the hungry, and instructing all that would 
 vouchsafe to hear him. For which of all these good 
 works is he punished? Death is the wages of sin; how 
 cornea he to die that knew no sin? The Prophet Isaiah 
 
ON THE PASSION. 189 
 
 gives us the answer: Surely, he hath borne our griefs, 
 and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him strick- 
 en, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wound- 
 ed for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniqui- 
 ties: the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and 
 by his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have 
 gone astray: we have turned every one to his own way, 
 and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. 
 Messiah was cut off, but not for himself: He bare our sins 
 in his own body on the tree; and gave his life a ransom 
 for many. The race of mankind by their apostasy from 
 God, were become liable to his wrath, and all the 
 dreadful effects of his vengeance: the eternal Son of 
 God, the Wisdom of the Father, whose delights were 
 always with the sons of men, resolveth to make up the 
 breach, and restore us again unto his Father's love: but 
 first he must repair the honour of God, and secure the 
 authority of the divine law; which could not be done, 
 but by some signal evidence of God's displeasure 
 against sin, and some valuable compensation of the pun- 
 ishment which had been denounced against it: and there- 
 fore himself was pleased to take our nature upon him, 
 appear in the similitude of sinful flesh, to lead a miser- 
 able and afflicted life in the world, and at last to offer 
 it up as a propitiation for us; that mercy and truth might 
 meet together, and righteousness and peace kiss each 
 other; and that God might at once be just, and also the 
 justifier of him that believeth in Jesus. Thus then the 
 blessed Jesus endured all these sufTerings for us and for 
 our sins. In vain do we exclaim against the trea- 
 son of Judas, the malice of the Jews, the injustice of 
 Pilate? we have ourselves and our iniquities to blame: 
 our covetousness and ambition exposed him to poverty 
 and contempt, our excess and intemperance made hind 
 hunger and thirst, our levity and foolish mirth were the 
 occasion of the anguish and bitterness of his soul; our 
 sensual and sinful pleasures were the occasion of all the 
 pains and tortures which he endured. And is it nothing 
 unto us? shall we think ourselves unconcerned in these 
 sad effects, whereof we were the unhappy cause? 
 
190 ON THE PASSION. 
 
 Again, we are concerned in our Saviour's sufferings, 
 as the benefits of them redound unto us. By his stripes 
 we are healed. We have redemption through his 
 blood, even the forgiveness of our sins: God was in 
 Christ reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing 
 their trespasses unto them. We have access unto the 
 throne of God, and boldness to enter into the holiest 
 by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which 
 he hath consecrated for us, through the vail, that is to 
 say, his flesh. But this is not all: God hath not set him 
 forth as a propitiation through faith in his blood, for the 
 remission of sins that are past; but doth also, for his 
 sake, bestow on us that grace, whereby we may be en- 
 abled to serve him in holiness and righteousness all the 
 days of our lives. An amnesty; or act of oblivion for 
 past offences, would never have served the turn; we 
 should presently have run ourselves upon another score: 
 nay, sin itself had been enough to make us miserable, 
 though no other punishment had been inflicted upon us: 
 and therefore he does not only cover our sins, but cures 
 them; he forgives all our iniquities, and healeth all our 
 diseases: as we are justified by his sufferings, so we are 
 sanctified too through the offering of the body of Jesus 
 Christ once for all. In a word, by the merits of our 
 Saviour we are both reconciled unto God, and made 
 partakers of the divine nature; we are both delivered 
 from everlasting darkness, and made m.eet for the inher- 
 itance of the saints in light. And now is it nothing to 
 us? Can we think ourselves unconcerned in these suf- 
 ferings, from which we reap so great so unspeakable 
 advantages? 
 
 III. Having spoken of the greatnjess of our Saviour's 
 sufferings, and the interest which we have in them, we 
 think we should need to say little of the third particular 
 which we proposed: you cannot but be convinced, that 
 we ought to regard and consider them. Were it nothing 
 to us, the very strangeness of the thing would deserve 
 notice. The holy angels desire to pry into this myste- 
 ry; they will contemplate and admire it to all eternity. 
 And surely we are far more nearly concerned. What 
 
ON THE PASSION 191 
 
 an unaccountable dulness and negligence is it then, for 
 men to go up and down the world amusing themselves 
 with every trifle; hearing and telling of news about mat- 
 ters of the smallest importance, and never to consider the 
 stupendous sufferings of their dying Saviour! They walk 
 to and fro, they come and pass, and scarce vouchsafe to 
 look upon him: or, if they chance to cast their eyes that 
 way, it is a very short and overly view; they presently 
 turn them away. And this occasions the complaint of 
 the text, Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? But 
 sure I am we can nowhere behold an object so worthy 
 of our most serious and solemn regards. The whole 
 world does not afford so useful and edifying a prospect. 
 Here it is that we may best learn the horrid and hei- 
 nous nature of sin, which could not be pardoned at a 
 smaller rate. Here it is that we may discover most of 
 the divine bounty and goodness to mankind, and the 
 inexpressible love of our blessed Saviour and Redeemer'; 
 which are the most important lessons that we can learn. 
 This made the blessed Apostle to determine to know 
 nothing but Christ, and him crucified, to count all things 
 but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
 Jesus his Lord. Let me therefore exhort you to fix the 
 eyes of your mind, and call up your most serious atten- 
 tion; reach hither the hand of your faith, and thrust it 
 into the hole of your Saviour's side; put your fingers ia- 
 to the print of the nails; lay to heart all the passages of 
 his lamentable story ; and this cannot choose but melt 
 your hearts, unless they be harder than the rocks, and 
 deafer than the bodies in the grave. Let us fix our eyes, 
 I say, on this astonishing object, till our eyes affect our 
 heart, that while we are musing, the fire may burn. 
 Let us mourn for those sins wherewith we have cruci^ 
 fied the Lord of glory, and be grieved that ever we 
 should have put him to so much anguish and pain; and 
 let us vow a perpetual enmity against our lusts and cor- 
 rupt affections, which would crucify him afresh, and 
 put him unto open shame. Let us consider and admire 
 the wonderful love of our dying Saviour, that our souls 
 may be kindled witli reciprocal flames, wherein we maj^ 
 
192 A PREPARATION FOR THE 
 
 offer np ourselves as a living and acceptable sacrifice un- 
 to him; that thus, Christ dwelling in our hearts by faith, 
 we may be rooted and grounded in love; comprehend- 
 ing with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and 
 height; and knowing the love of Christ which passeth 
 knowledge, that so we may be filled with all the fulness 
 of God. Such meditations and exercises as these will 
 purify and raise our souls, and best dispose us for ap- 
 proaching to the table of the Lord, And the Lord pour 
 out upon us the spirit of grace and supplication, that we 
 may look upon him whom" we have pierced, and mourn 
 for him as one mourneth for his only son, and be in bitter- 
 ness for him as one that is in bitterness for his first-born. 
 
 A PREPARATION FOR THE HOLY SACRAMENT 
 
 JOSH. III. 5. 
 
 Sanctify yourselves: for to-morrow the Lord will 
 do wonders among you. 
 When God is to make any signal discovery and 
 ^manifestation of himself to his people, he calleth thera 
 to solemn preparation, that they may be in a fit posture 
 to attend and receive it. Three eminent instances 
 whereof w' e meet with in the travels of his ancient peo- 
 ple of Israel. The first is in Exodus xix. 10, II. where, 
 being to descend upon Sinai to promulgate a law, and 
 enter into a covenant with them, the Lord said unto 
 JMoses, Go unto the people, and sanctify them to-day 
 and to-morrow, and let them wash their clofhes, and be 
 ready against the third day: for the third day the Lord 
 will come down in the sight of all the people. Thus 
 also, when he was at once to satisfy and punish the in- 
 ordinate appetite of that people who loathed the manna, 
 and lusted after flesh, by bringing innumerable quails 
 from the sea, and causing them to fall about their camp, 
 
HOLY SACRAMENT. 193 
 
 he commanded Moses to say imto the people, Sanctify 
 yourselves against to-morrow, and ye shall eat flesh. 
 A third instance is that of the text. The Lord had 
 brought his people to the borders of Canaan, and \va3 
 now to give them the seisin and possession of that prom- 
 ised land: he was to divide the waters of Jordan before 
 them: and thereby both facilitate their passage, and as- 
 sure their possession. Hereby, said Joshua, ye shall 
 know that the living God is among you, and that he will 
 without fail drive out from before you the Canaanites, 
 and the liittites, and Ilivites, and the Perizzites, and 
 the Girgashites, and the Amorites and the Jebusites. 
 Behold, the ark of the covenant of the Lord of all the 
 earth, passeth over before you into Jordan. And it shall 
 come to pass, as soon as the soles of the feet of the 
 priests that bear the ark of the Lord, the Lord of all the 
 earth, shall rest in the waters of Jordan, that the waters 
 of Jordan shall be cut off from the waters that come 
 down from above; and they shall stand upon an heap. 
 IVow, to dispose them for so great a mercy, Joshua 
 gives them this advertisement in the text. Sanctify your- 
 selves: for to-morrow the Lord will do wonders among 
 
 you. 
 
 And sure this same advertisement must needs be very 
 seasonable to us, who are expecting that God will man- 
 ifest himself to-morrow in this phice, in a way no less 
 glorio-us, and far more coinfortable and advantageous, 
 than any of those we have mentioned unto you. We 
 hope he shall descend from the habitation of his glory, 
 that he will rend the heavens, and come down into this 
 house, not with fire, and blackness, and darkness, and 
 tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of 
 words, which they that heard, entreated that the word 
 should not be spo-I^eri unto them any more; because they 
 could not endure that which was commanded: but with 
 the gentle and enlivening flames of love, with the re- 
 fieshmg beams of divine light, with the still and quiet 
 wJiisper of his Holy Spirit; which are only heard in calm 
 and silent souls. He is coming to proclaim another law, 
 a law of liberty and love; to enter into a new andbet- 
 17 
 
194 A PREPARATION FOR THE 
 
 ter covenant with us, not according to that covenant 
 which he made with the house of Israel, in the day when 
 he took them by the hand to lead them out of Egypt: 
 but this is the covenant he maketh with us, that he will 
 put his laws into our minds,- and write them in our 
 hearts: and he will be to us a God, and we shall be 
 to him a people; that he will be merciful to our un- 
 righteousness, and remember our iniquities no more. 
 
 To-morrow the Lord will give us flesh to eat; not the 
 flesh of quails and feathered fowls, to sustain this crazy 
 and decaying frame; but the flesh and blood of the Son 
 of man; that flesh which is meat indeed, and that blood 
 which is drink indeed; which giveth life and everlasting 
 happiness to the soul, and consigneth these mortal bodies 
 to a blessed resunection: for whoso eateth my flesh, and 
 drinketh my blood, (saith our Saviour) hath eternal life, 
 and I will raise him up at the last day. 
 
 To-morrow the Lord will open a passage for his peo- 
 ple towards the heavenly Canaan, place them, as it were, 
 in the confines of that promised land, in the suburbs of 
 happiness and glory: at least he will show them a token 
 for good, and sign a right and security unto it. And, 
 though floods of sin and sorrow were ready to over^ 
 whelm their souls, he will restrain and divert them: 
 Surely in the floods of great waters they shall not comer 
 nigh unto them. What fitter terms could we therefore 
 choose to bespeak you in, than those of this holy man,. 
 Sanctify yourselves, for to-morrow, &c. 
 
 The words contain an exhortation, and a reason enfor- 
 cing it.- !» applying them to the present occasion, we 
 shall invert the order, and handle the latter part of the 
 text first, because of the influence it hath on the former. 
 We shall first tell you what those wonders are which the 
 Lord is to do among us to-morrow; the consideration- 
 of them being of great use, both to excite us to sanctify 
 and prepare ourselves, and also to instruct and direct u.«r 
 in it. 
 
 L What then are those wonders we expect to see? 
 A little bread broken and divided among us, a little wine 
 poured forth and di-unk. Is there any thing to surprise 
 
HOLY SACRAMENT. 195 
 
 and amaze us here? What better is this tlian our ordi- 
 nary entertainment at home? Are not Abana and Phar- 
 par, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of 
 Israel? Such may be the thoughts of profane and igno- 
 rant fools; for the outside of this ordinance is very poor 
 and mean, hath nothing in it that may dazzle or delight 
 the vulgar eye, that may please or affect a carnal mind: 
 but those whose eyes are opened to right apprehensions 
 of spiritual and divine things, can easily see through this 
 coarse and contemptible vail, and discern astonishing 
 wonders in this ordinance, wonders of power, and wis- 
 dom, and love. 
 
 If we consider what is represented to us in this sa- 
 crament, we have therein occasion to behold the most 
 wonderful and astonishing spectacle that ever was seen 
 in this lower world; the ©nly begotten Son of God suf- 
 fering for the sins of the world; the Lord of glory hanging 
 between two thieves: for in this ordinance Jesus Christ is 
 evidently set forth as crucified before our eyes. We 
 may read and hear of it at other times; but this is a more 
 clear and solemn representation of it: our dying Lord 
 commanded us to do it in remembrance of him. Here 
 our thoughts are more fixed, and our meditations higher 
 raised ; we get a nearer and more advantageous prospect. 
 And our faith comes not only by the ear; our senses 
 contribute unto it that we may say in some sense, with 
 the beloved disciple, that we have not only heard, but 
 have seen with our eyes, we have looked upon it, and 
 our hands have handled the word of life. It is true, 
 there might have been contrived a more sensible resem- 
 blance, and tragical representation of the death of Christ. 
 That spectacle represented upon the scene, would per- 
 haps affect our senses and fancy more, and might sooner 
 draw tears from our eyes, and occasion some warm and 
 affectionate passion. But it is a mean and low devotion 
 that is seated in the inferior faculties of the soul . which 
 outward objects do excite by their natural strength, 
 without the exercise of the soul's considering and med- 
 itating powers. And therefore (as one hath well observ- 
 
186 ON THE PASSION. 
 
 There remaineth yet another scene, a very gad and 
 dismal one. When nothing could prevail with the Jews, 
 Pilate yieldeth, and delivereth our Saviour to their hands. 
 They carry him away, so faint and weak with what he 
 had already endured, that he could not bear the weight 
 of his cross, but another must carry it for him. But now 
 they nail him unto it, hang him up between two thieves, 
 as the most notorious offender of the three. It cannot 
 be expressed how painful this kind of death was. The 
 very stretching forth of the arms without any weight, 
 can hardly be endured any considerable time: but, when 
 the weight of the body did hang upon them, and there- 
 by tear the wounds that were made in the hands; when 
 this torment was continued, till pain alone had overcome 
 the power of nature, and forced the soul to dislodge 
 without any hurt to the vital parts, scarce any could be 
 invented more dreadful and cruel ; to say nothing of the 
 shame that attended it, being only destined for the mean- 
 est slaves, and the greatest offenders, those whom the 
 lowness of their condition, or the greatness of their 
 crimes, made unworthy of any respect. In this sad and 
 painful posture did our Saviour hang, without any thing 
 to comfort him. The holy angels, who were accustomed 
 to serve him upon other occasions, do now disappear; 
 pot one of them to strengthen or relieve him. As for 
 men, miserable comforters are they all: the soldiers scoff 
 him; those that pass by exult over him; a companion of 
 his sufferings adds unto them by his reproaches: his dis- 
 ciples had forsaken him; one of them had betrayed him, 
 another forsworn him, a third run away from him naked, 
 that he might not be apprehended with him. Indeed 
 some devout women followed him out of the city; but 
 their compassion did so little ease his grief, that he de- 
 sired them to reserve their tears for the calamities that 
 were to befall themselves: Daughters of Jerusalem, weep 
 not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your chil- 
 dren. He beheld the two persons that were the dear- 
 est to him in the world, his mother, and his friend, sit- 
 ting under the cross; but all that they could do was but 
 ^0 lament and mourn ; and this but redoubled his sorrow* 
 
ON THE PASSION. 187 
 
 His blessed mother was bathed in tears; and felt the ef- 
 fects of old Simeon's prophecy, that a sword should 
 pierce through her soul. And the beloved disciple, who 
 was wont to lie in his bosom, lay still very near his 
 heart; and it was a real suffering unto him, to see the 
 anguish and sorrow whereinto his sufferings had cast 
 them. Whither then could he look for comfort, but 
 unto heaven? To whom could he flee, but to the arms 
 of his Father? But O what strange, what astonishing 
 words do we hear? My God, my God, why hast thou 
 forsaken me? Wonder, O earth! be astonished, O ye 
 heavens! At this, men and angels admire and stand 
 amazed! goodness and innocence itself forsaken by the 
 author and fountain of goodness, the Son of God desert- 
 ed by his heavenly Father! Certainly the soul of our 
 blessed Saviour was still united to the divine nature, 
 and was still as dear unto his Father as before ; only the 
 joyful sense of the divine love was suspended for a 
 while; the faculties of his soul were discomposed, and a 
 veil, as it were, drawn before the eyes of his mind, 
 which intercepted the light of his Father's countenance; 
 and that he felt not those refresjiing emanations, which 
 in the course of his life the Deity conveyed unto him. 
 And, in that sad moment, his mind seems to have been 
 so intent upon his sufferings, that he was diverted from 
 the actual consideration of that glory which he pur- 
 chased by them. Now, to be thus suspended from the 
 perfect vision of God, to be divorced, as it were, from 
 himself, and to lose the sense of those inward comforts 
 which were wont to sustain him in all his adversities, 
 how cutting must it needs be to his soul, so pure and 
 holy, and which had so high a value for the divine love? 
 Consider then, and see, if ever there was any sorrow 
 like unto this sorrow. 
 
 Now it is finished, the sharp conflict is at a close; one 
 cry more, and the blessed Jesus bowed down his head, 
 and yielded up the ghost. No wonder then if the pow- 
 ers of heaven and earth be moved. The earth trem- 
 bleth and shaketh, the rocks rent, the graves are opened, 
 the vail of the temple was rent in two, the sun himself 
 
198 A PREPARATION, kc. 
 
 performed, by the body and blood of our Saviour, than 
 those which were done by the touch of his sacred body, 
 while he lived here among men. I shall conclude this 
 point in the words of J-^t. Chrysostom, only desiring 
 they may be understood according to what hath been 
 already said, making some allowance for the rhetorical 
 and hyperbolic style, Ot«v /cT^c tov kv^iov TsSt/^sviv, 
 &c. "When thou dost behold the Lord of glory offer- 
 ed up, and the priest performing the sacrifice, and the 
 people round about dyed and made red with that pre- 
 cious blood, where, I pray thee, dost thou conceive 
 thyself to be? Canst thou think thou art yet upon 
 earth, and conversing amongst mortal creatures; or art 
 thou not rather on a sadden transported into heaven? 
 Dost thou not lose all thoughts of the body, and with a 
 pure mind, and naked soul, behold the things that are 
 done above?" O the wonderful mercy and goodness 
 of God! He who sitteth v.ith the Father above, is at 
 the same time present here below, and gives himself to 
 all who will receive and embrace him. Compare this, 
 if you will, with another miracle. Imagine you see 
 the great Elias with an infinite number of people about 
 him, the sacrifice laid upon the stones, and all the rest 
 quiet and silent, while the prophet poureth forth his 
 prayers, then tlie fire coming down on a sudden from 
 heaven, and consuming the sacrifice. Tnily these 
 things are strange, and full of wonder: but yet are far 
 inferior to our sacred and tremendous mysteries; for here 
 the priest doth not bring fire, but the Holy Ghost: he 
 prayeth not that a flame may descend from heaven to 
 consume the holy things before him, but that the divine 
 grace, influencing the sacrifice, may thereby inflame the 
 hearts and souls of all the people, and render them more 
 pure than silver tried in the fire. Doubtless, when these 
 sacred and venerable mysteries are performing, the holy 
 angels do stand by, and the place is full of blessed and 
 glorious spirits, who delight to look and pry into them; 
 and all the orders of the heavenly host shout, and raise 
 their voices together. 
 
 [ The rest is wanting. ] 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 199 
 
 OF THE IMPORTAXCE AND DIFFICULTY OF THE 
 MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 [ Preached before the Synod of Aberdeen. ] 
 
 2 COR. IT. 16. 
 
 Who is sxifficient for these things! 
 
 Reverend and dearly beloved men, brethren, and 
 fathers, It is one of the advantages of that peace and 
 tranquillity wherewith Almighty God is pleased to bless 
 this poor church, that the officers of it have liberty of 
 assembling together on tliese occasions, for mutual as- 
 sistance and counsel in the exercise of their holy func- 
 tion. And, indeed, if there were no matter of public 
 deliberation, yet ought we gladly to embrace the oppor- 
 tunity of seeing one another's faces, not only that we may 
 maintam and express a brotherly correspondence and 
 allection, but also that we may animate and excite one 
 another unto greater measures of diligence and zeal; as 
 coals, being gathered together, do mutually receive and 
 propagate some new degrees of vigour and heat. This 
 I have always looked upon as none of the meanest ad- 
 vantages of these synodical meetings; and shall think 
 myself very happy, if my poor endeavours, in the per- 
 formance of this present duty, may, by the divine bles- 
 sing, contribute any thing towards this excellent and 
 desirable purpose. To this end, I liave made choice of 
 a text which I hope may aflbrd us some useful medita- 
 tions, for stirring up and awakening in onr souls a deep- 
 er sense of those great engagements under which we 
 lie. 
 
 The blessed Apostle, in the former verse, and begin- 
 ning of this, has been speaking of the different success 
 thegospel did meet with among those to whom it was 
 preached; that it was not like those weak and harmless 
 
200 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFlCtTLTT OP 
 
 medicines, which, if they do no good, are sure to do 
 no hurt; but like some pe^-fumes which are comfortable 
 and strengthening to the wholesome, but troublesome 
 and noxious to the wealv;so doth it prove a vital savour 
 to those who receive and obey it, but a most deadly 
 poison to all who reject and despise it: For we are unto 
 God a sweet savour of Christ, to them that are saved, 
 and in them that perish; to the one we are a savour of 
 death unto death, and to the other a savour of life unto 
 life. And then he takes occasion to consider what a 
 great matter it is to be employed in those administrations 
 wherein the happiness and misery of mankind is so 
 nearly concerned, K*t tic ^r/ioc tslvtii, &c. ; and who 
 is sufficient for these things? 
 
 We shall not detain you with an explication of the 
 words. Two things, I conceive, are implied in them: 
 1. The importance; 2. The ditEculty of the Ministerial 
 function. For if a business be of small concern, it is 
 little matter who have the management of it; there is no 
 great harm done if it miscarry; any body is sufficient for 
 that thing. On the other hand, let the matter be never 
 so weighty, if there be no difficulty in it, there needs no 
 extraordinary endowments in those to whom it is com- 
 mitted: common prudence and a little care will suiffice; 
 there is no likelihood that it can miscarry. But the 
 work of the ministry is at once so important and so dif- 
 ficult — of so great consequence and so hard to be per- 
 formed, that there is a great deal of reason for an em- 
 phatic interrogation, Who is sufficient for these things? 
 
 I. First, Let us fix our thoughts awhile on the weight 
 and importance of the ministry, and we shall find that 
 it is a greater burden lying on our shoulders, than if the 
 greatest affairs of this world were devolved upon us, and 
 we did hold up the pillars of the earth. This will ap- 
 pear, whether we consider the relation vre stanrd in to 
 the Almighty God, or the charge of the flocks we have 
 committed to us. 
 
 To begin with the first. That infinite Majesty which 
 created, and doth continually uphold the earth, and all 
 things in it, as the just owner and lord of the whole ere* 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 2?1 
 
 ation, (for all are his servants, and must obey his will,) 
 is yet pleased to claim a special property in some things 
 which he chooseth for himself, and employeth for pe- 
 culiar designs: Nevertheless of old did he choose a house 
 for himself, and a place to be ca-lled by his i^ame. At 
 Salem was his tabernacle, and his dwelling-place in 
 Zion. The Lord loved the gates of Ziou more than all 
 the dwellings of Jacob. And the church, in a.!l ages, 
 hath thouglvt it fit to separate some places from vulgar 
 and common use, and to appropriate them to the service 
 of God. Again, Though all times and seasons do belong 
 unto God, yet hath he set apart a day for his worship, 
 and sanctified a sabbath for himself. All men were cre- 
 ated for the honour of God, and are infinitely obliged to 
 serve him; yet, because the greatest part of mankind are 
 too mnch engaged in worldly afl'airs, and have their souls 
 fettered in the distracting cares of this life, and almost 
 buried in their bodies, it hath pleased the divine wisdom 
 to call forth a select number of men, who, being deliv- 
 ered from those entanglements, and having their minds 
 more highly purified, and more peculiarly fitted for the 
 offices of religion, may attend continually on that very 
 thing. Religion is every man's general calling; but it 
 is our particular calling too: and, while the labourer is 
 at his plough, the craftsman at his forge, and the mer- 
 chant in his shop, the minister ought to be employed in 
 the exercise of devotion, for the interest of advancing 
 pietv, and the honour of our Maker. My beloved, ye 
 are "deouted, as it were, by the whole creation, at least 
 by the inferior world, to present their homage and ser- 
 vice to God, and to praise him for all his. works. You 
 ought to maintain a correspondence between heaven and 
 earth, todeprecate the wrath of God, and avert his ven- 
 geance and plagues from mankind. Your business is 
 the same with that of the holy angels: you dwell in the 
 house of God, and should be continually praising him. 
 And this is an employment so holy, that, were our souls 
 as pure as chenibs, as zealous and active as the blessed 
 spirits that are above, we should yet have reason to 
 cover our faces, and to be swallowed up in a deep sense 
 
202 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 of our own insufficiency for these things. And what is 
 sinful dust and ashes, that he should stand in so near a 
 relation unto the Lord of glory! What is man, O bless- 
 ed God, that tliou shouldst choose him, and cause him 
 to approach unto thee I that he should dwell in thy courts; 
 and be satisfied with the goodness of thy house, even of 
 thine holy temple! The priesthood, under the law, was 
 a very sacred and venerable thing, and no profane hand 
 might intermeddle with the meanest offices that belong- 
 ed unto it. All the zeal and seemingly religious care 
 that Uzzah had for the tottering ark, served not to ex- 
 cuse his presumption, when he intruded upon the Lev- 
 itical function: but, certainly, as the gospel ministry is 
 so much more excellent and sublime, being intrusted 
 with the administration of those holy mysteries which 
 were but shadow ed in the former — how pure and holy 
 ought those lips to be, by which God speaketh unto his 
 people, and by which they speak unto him; which some- 
 times pronounce those powerful and effectual sentences 
 of absolution and excommunication, that are so surely 
 ratified in heaven: and those hands which are employed 
 in the laver of regeneration, and to handle the bread of 
 life! Hi sunt, (sajth holy Chrysostom, de sacerd. 
 lib. 3.) quibus, &c, " These are the men that assist at 
 the pangs of the new birth, and to whom baptismal re- 
 generation is committed: by those we put on Christ, and 
 are buried with the Son of God, and so become mem- 
 bers of that blessed head. Upon which account the sa- 
 cerdotal function is more creditable than that of kings 
 and princes; and we owe more honour unto priests, than 
 unto parents themselves; for they have begotten us of 
 blood, and of the will of the flesh; but these are the au-» 
 thors of that nativity which we have from God; that 
 adoption, ^vhereby, through grace, we become the chil- 
 dren of the i^Jost High." And, again, the same father, 
 speaking of the sacerdotal power, expresses it in these 
 terms: Qui terram incolunt, atque in ea versantur, 
 his cominissum est, ut ea qucB in ccelis sunt dispen- 
 sent, &c. " Men that live on earth, do dispense the 
 things that are in heaven ; and are intrusted with a pow-* 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 2(J3 
 
 ©r that neither angels nor archangels can pretend unto: 
 for to none of these was it said, What ye bind on earth, 
 shall be bound in heaven. Earthly princes have the 
 power of binding, but it is only the bodies of men. 
 These bands that I speak of, take hold of the souls of 
 men, and reach unto the very heavens; so that God doth 
 ratify above, what the priest determines below; and his 
 servants' decrees are ratified by their Lord. The Fa- 
 ther hath given all judgment to the Son; but now, it 
 seems, the Son does deliver it to the pastors of the 
 church. And so eminent is this authority, that one 
 would think the persons invested with it, must needs be 
 raised above the common condition of men, and ex- 
 empted from human affections, and, as it were, already 
 placed in heaven." Thus far this holy father. Nor can 
 I pass by what he says of that ineffable privilege of the 
 celebration of the holy sacrament, though some of his 
 expressions, being figurative and hyperbolical, have been 
 abused by the Romish party: Dum conspicis Dominum 
 in immolatione, et sacerdotem sacrificio incumhen- 
 teni,&,c. — "When thou dost behold the Lord of glory of- 
 fered up, and the priest performing the sacrifice, and the 
 people round about dyed, as it v/ere, and made red with 
 that precious blood; where, I pray thee, dost thou con- 
 ceive thyself to be? Dost thou think thou art on earth, 
 and conversing among mortal creatures: or art thou not 
 rather on a sudden transported into heaven? Dost thou 
 not lose all thoughts of the body, and material things, 
 and with a pure mind, and naked soul, behold the 
 things that are done in those regions above? And when 
 the minister has invoked the divine Spirit, and perform- 
 ed those reverend and dreadful mysteries, and holdeth 
 the Lord of all things in his hand, tell me, I beseech you, 
 in what order of things we are to place him? What up- 
 rightness, what purity is required of him! what hands 
 should they be that administer those things! what lips 
 that utter and pronounce those words! For at that time 
 the holy angels stand by the priest; the place is full of 
 blessed spirits, who desire to look into those things; and 
 all the orders of the heavenly host do shout, and rais« 
 
204 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 their voice together, as we may easily believe, if we con-- 
 sider the work that is then in hand." I cannot stand to 
 relate all th.t this excellent person speaketh to the same 
 purpose, but shall proceed to the next thing we pro- 
 posed. 
 
 The weight and importance of the ministerial func- 
 tion, considered in relation to the people committed 
 to our charge, ^^'e are not intrusted with their fortune 
 or estate, nor with their bodily health and welfare, nor 
 with the affairs of state, or the interest of kingdoms; 
 though, indeed, religion hath no small influence on 
 these, and the labours of ministei-s, if successful, would 
 contribute exceedingly to the public tranquillity, and the 
 present felicity of men. But our main business lieth an- 
 other way. We have to do with rational and immortal 
 souls, those most noble and divine substances which 
 proceeded from God, and are capable of bciiig united 
 to him eternally, but withal in hazard of being eter- 
 nally separated from him; these ff^^/upivCuTiiy.a'TA tov 
 Qiov Kd.1 6'oLiy.'.\ce\', as Synesius calls them, these stakes 
 between God and the devil: and on us it doth in some 
 measure depend to whose share they shall full, whether 
 they shall be angels or fiends. We may say with rea- 
 son of our work, what the painter did vainly boast of, 
 Lahoramiis oiternitati: The impresses we make shall 
 last for ever. My beloved, the most serious of our 
 thoughts come very far short of the inestimable worth 
 of the depositum, that treasure which is committed to 
 our care. He w^ho did create and redeem the souls of 
 men. doth best understand their value: and we see what 
 esteem he putteth upon them, by the pains he is pleased 
 to take about them. Their salvation was contrived be- 
 fore the mountains were brought forth, before the foun- 
 d-ition of the earth was laid; the design was formed 
 from "all eternity; and glorious are the methods by 
 which it is accomplished. Hue magislra lex tendit: 
 hue, inter Christum et legem intcrjecti, prophetcp, 
 paith St. Greg. Naz. " At this both the law and the 
 prophets did aim." Hue ciinaiiita Deitas: hue as- 
 sumpta oaro; hue nova ilia ?nixtio. " To this pur- 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTIOlV. 205 
 
 pose did the Deity empty itself, and was clotlied with 
 the human nature; to this purpose was that strange 
 and wonderful conjun-ction, (iod and man united to- 
 gether!" Hitherto did all the actions and all the suf- 
 ferings of our blessed Saviour aim — for this he was born, 
 and for this he did die. And shall we undervalue the 
 price of his blood, or think it a small matter to have 
 the charge of those for whom it was shed? It is the 
 church of God we must oversee and feed; that church 
 for which the world is upheld, which is sanctified by 
 the Holy Ghost, on which the angels themselves do at- 
 tend. What a weighty charge is this we have under- 
 taken! Who is sufficient for these things? 
 
 That these matters may yet take the deeper impres- 
 sion on our hearts, let us farther consider the dreadful 
 consequences of miscarriage in the discharge of the min- 
 isterial function; and we shall find that it reflects a great 
 deal of dishonour on the divme Majesty, and on our bles- 
 sed Saviour; that it doth very much hazard the souls of 
 our people, and certainly ruins our own. I say, it doth 
 reflect dishonour on Almighty God, as the faults of ser- 
 vants do commonly prejudice the reputation of their 
 masters, and the failings of ambassadors are imputed to 
 their prirtces. We stand in a nearer relation to God, 
 and are supposed to be best acquainted with his will, 
 and to carry the deepest impressions of his nature on our 
 minds. And ignorant people will entertain the meaner 
 thoughts of the holiness of God, when they m.iss it in 
 those who are called his sei"vants. Certainly it is no 
 small reproach which the faults or miscarriages of min- 
 isters do bring upon the ways of godliness, and the holy 
 religion we profess. It is no small afii-ont that is hereby 
 put on the blessed author of it; greater, without ques- 
 tion, than all the malice and spite of his open enemiea 
 is able to practise: for hereby he is cmcified afresh, and 
 put unto open shame. And O how great is the hazard 
 our poor people do run by our negligen-ce or failings, 
 even as much as the worth of their souls amounteth to! 
 If the watchmen be not faithful, and give not timely 
 warning, the sword will readilv come, and the people 
 IS 
 
206 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 be taken away in their sins. Causa sunt ruincB po- 
 puli sacerdotes mali. Like people, like priests, will 
 still be a proverb of a general troth. But if the negli- 
 gence and miscarriage of a minister d.th hazard the 
 souls of others, it doth certainly ruin his own ; which 
 made St. Chrysostom say, Equidem ex ecclesics 
 ministris non arhitror multos servari ; words so 
 terrible, that I tremble to put them into English: and yet, 
 if a man should speak fire, blood, and smoke — if flames 
 could come out of his mouth instead of words — if he had 
 a voice like thunder, and an eye like lightning, he could 
 net sufficiently represent the dreadful account that an im- 
 faithful pastor shall make. What horror and confusion 
 shall it cast them into at the last day, to hear the blood 
 of the Son of God plead against them — to hear our 
 great master say, It was the purchase of my blood 
 which ye did neglect! God died for these souls, of 
 whom ye took so little pains! think not, therefore, to 
 be saved by that blood which ye have despised, or to 
 escape the torments whereunto many others are plunged 
 through your faults! By this time I hope it doth appear, 
 that the work of the ministry is of great weight and im- 
 portance; that much doth depend on the right discharg- 
 ing of it; and that miscarrying in it is the most danger- 
 ous thing in the world. 
 
 II. The second thing we had to speak to, is the 
 difficulty of managing this charge aright. And this will 
 appear, if we consider, 1. The end and design of the 
 ministerial function: 2. The impediments we have to 
 overcome in the prosecution of that end: and, 3. The 
 several sorts of duties and exercises incumbent upon us. 
 As for the first — The great business of our calling is, to 
 advance the divine life in the world; to make religion 
 sway and prevail; frame and mould the souls of men 
 into a conformity to God, and superinduce the beautiful 
 lineaments of his blessed image upon them; to enlighten 
 their understandings, and inform their judg-ments, rectify 
 their wills, and order their passions, and sanctify all 
 their affections. The world lieth in sin: and it is our 
 work to awaken men out of their deadly sleep — to ree- 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION". 207 
 
 cue them out of that dismal condition. We are the 
 instruments of God for effecting these great designs; 
 and though we be not accountable for the success, when 
 we have done what lieth in our power, yet nothing be- 
 low this should be our aim; and we should never cease 
 our endeavours, until that gracious change be wrought in 
 every person committed to our charge. And, if any 
 think this an easy work, let them pitch on some person 
 of their acquaintance, whom they know to be addicted 
 to some one particular vice, and try whether it be easy 
 to reclaim him. Persuade the drunkard, if you can, to 
 forsake his cups; the covetous wretch, to part with his 
 money; reason but the wild gallant into serious thoughts, 
 and a grave and sober deportment; try to purge your 
 neighbourhood of gross crimes, and scandalous vices; 
 and persuade those that live about you, to live at least 
 as becomes men. In this you have the advantage of 
 dealing with that self-love, which does prevail in them. 
 You may easily convince them that the practice of these 
 virtues you recommend, would contribute much to their 
 temporal felicity, to those interests of pleasure, advan- 
 tage, and honour, to which they have the greatest re- 
 gard — and yet you shall find even this task not ttasy to 
 be performed. But to raise men unto the greatest 
 heights of mortification and self-denial; to make them 
 truly humble, meek, and resigned to the will of God; 
 to overpower that selfish principle which is so deeply 
 rooted in the constitution of our souls, and doth so 
 readily insinuate itself into all our affections and designs; 
 to set divine love and universal charity upon the throne, 
 that the honour of God, and the welfare of others, may 
 be as dear unto men as their own concerns; to have re- 
 ligion become another nature unto them, and they, as it 
 were, a living law unto tliemselves: this, this is so great 
 and wonderful a change, that, as only omnipotence is 
 able to produce it, so certainly they have a mighty task 
 who are employed ^s instruments in it. 
 
 Again, let me appeal to the conscience and experi- 
 ence of every one, what difficulty they find in dealing 
 with their ewn souls, in regulating their own passions, 
 
208 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 and in mortifying their own corrupt affections: yet here 
 we have the advantage of a nearer application; we can 
 carry home our reasons with more force upon ourselves 
 than others; our thoughts and meditations must be more 
 clear and lively than our words and expressions are. 
 If it be hard, then, to persuade ourselves to. be good, it 
 is sure much harder to persuade others to be so. 
 
 Consider, in the next place, the enemies we have to 
 encounter with, which oppose the design of our em- 
 ployments. We wrestle not against flesh and blood, 
 but against principalities and powers. All the forces of 
 hell are up in arms against us — all the powers of dark- 
 ness do continually oppose us; and little do we know 
 those hidden arts whereby these accursed spirits do ap- 
 ply themselves to the souls of men, to suggest and insin- 
 uate their temptations. The world, also, with all its 
 cares and pleasures, is daily fighthig against us; and 
 there is no estate or condition in it, but what is sur- 
 rounded with a thousand temptations. The poor are so 
 much taken up in providing for the necessities of this 
 life, that they can hardly be persuaded to think upon 
 another. The rich are commonly drowned in sensual 
 pleasures; and our Saviour tells us, It is easier for a 
 camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich 
 man to enter into the khigdom of heaven. The in- 
 fluence of sensual objects is very strong. And though 
 the possessions of the other world be as far beyond our 
 enjoyments here, as this world is above nothing; yet, 
 because the things of this world are present, and are 
 ever and a^ion offering themselves unto us, and bearing 
 upon our senses, therefore they do too frequently prevail 
 against all the persuasions of reason and religion too. 
 And what shall we say of the evil company and bad 
 example that inveigles the souls of men? We, per- 
 haps, see them once a week, and bring them to some 
 degree of sobriety, and a sound mind; but then their 
 wicked neighbours, and the companions of their sin, do 
 meet them every day, and, by their counsel and exam- 
 ple, obliterate any good impression that has been made 
 upon them: and hereby we lose more in a week, than 
 
■THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 209 
 
 we are able to recover in a whole year. But the great- 
 est enemies we have, are those within the souls of men: 
 their depraved affections, their lusts and corrupt incli- 
 nations. When physicians undertake the cure of bodi- 
 ly distempers, they have the consent of the party; he 
 is ready to comply with their prescriptions. But our 
 greatest difficulty is in dealing with the wills of men, 
 and making them consent to be cured. They hug the 
 disease, and shun the medicine as poison, and have no 
 desire to be well. Hence it is, they do all they can to 
 keep us strangers to their souls, and take as much pains 
 to conceal their inward distempers, as they ought to do 
 in revealing them. We have justly shaken off the ty- 
 ran.ny of the Romish confession: but, alas! our people 
 go too far in the other extreme; and, because they are 
 not obliged to tell every thing to their pastors, in effect 
 they acquaint them with nothing at all. Perhaps some 
 persons, lying under some terrors and trouble of mind, 
 rnay apply themselves unto us, to give vent to the fire 
 that burneth within them; but otherwise they content 
 themselves to see us in the pulpit, and care not how lit- 
 tle we be acquainted with their temper and way. It 
 will be long ere any come to tell us, that they find 
 themselves proud, or passionate, or revengeful, and in- 
 quire how they shall get these vices subdued; that they 
 are covetous and uncharitable, and beseech us to tell 
 them how they shall amend; to acquaint us with their 
 temptations, and to learn the fittest methods to oppose 
 them. We are seldom troubled with addresses of this 
 nature; and it is hard to do any thing towards a cure, 
 when they will not let us know the disease. 
 
 The difficulty of the ministerial function will further 
 appear, if we will consider the several duties and exer- 
 cises of it. We shall but touch at some of them at 
 present, and may perhaps have occasion to speak more 
 in the application. 
 
 Catechising is a necessary but painful one. It is 
 
 no small toil, to tell the same things a thousand times to 
 
 some dull and ignorant people, who, perhaps, shall 
 
 Jinow but little when we have done. It is this labori- 
 
 18* 
 
210 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 ous exercise that does sometimes tempt a minister to 
 envy the condition of those who gain their living by 
 the sweat of their brows, without the toil and distrac- 
 tion of their spirits. 
 
 Preaching is an exercise that many are ambitious 
 of, and none more than those that are least qualified 
 for it; and, it is probable, the desire of this liberty is 
 no small temptation to some of our giddy people to go 
 over to that sect and party, where all ranks, and both 
 sexes, are allowed the satisfaction to hear themselves 
 talk in public. But it is not so easy a matter to per- 
 form this task aright; to stand in the presence of God, 
 and to speak to his people in his name, with that plain- 
 ness and simplicity, that seriousness and gravity, that 
 zeal and concern, which the business requires: to ac- 
 commodate ourselves to the capacity of the common 
 people, without disgusting our more knowing hearers 
 by the insipid flatness of our discourse; to excite and 
 awaken drowsy souls, without terrifying and disturbing 
 more tender consciences: to bear home the convictions 
 of sin, without the appearance of some personal reflec- 
 tion; in a word, to approve ourselves unto God as work- 
 men that need not be ashamed, rightly dividing the 
 word of truth. 
 
 Discipline is an edged tool; and they had need be 
 no fools that meddle with it. It is a hard thing to man- 
 age the processes of the censures of the church with 
 such care and prudence, that may neither encourage 
 flagitious persons by our remissness, nor tempt to irri- 
 tate others by needless severity, nor give advantage to 
 captious and troublesome men for want of some legal 
 formality. 
 
 But certainly the greatest and most difficult work of 
 a minister is, in applying himself particularly to the sev- 
 eral persons under his charge; to acquaint himself with 
 their behaviour, and the temper of their souls; to redress 
 what is amiss, and prevent their future miscarriages. 
 Without this private work, his other endeavours will do 
 little good. And, considermg the great variety that is 
 among the humours and dispositioua of men, (equal, al« 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION". 211 
 
 most, to that of their faces,) this must needs be an in- 
 finite Itiboar. It is the art of arts, (sailh Gregory Na- 
 zianzen in his Apologetic Oration,) and the most diffi- 
 cult of all sciences, to govern such a manifold and 
 various creature as man. And another Gregory hath 
 written a whole tractate of the diversity there is amongst 
 men's tempers, and the several ways of dealing with 
 them. What a martyrdom is it for some modest and 
 bashful tempers, when they find themselves obliged to use 
 freedom and severity in reproving the faults of those who, 
 in quality or age, are above themselves! And, O what 
 a hard matter it is to deal with people that are ready to 
 leave the world, and step in upon eternity; when their 
 souls do, as it were, hang on their lips, and they have 
 one foot (as we .use to say) already in the grave. The 
 minister is seldom sent for till the physician has given 
 the patient over; and then they beg him to dress their 
 souls for heaven, when their windingsheet is preparing, 
 and their friends are almost ready to dress the body for 
 the funeral. Now, though some of these have lived 
 well, and, like the wise virgins, have oil in their lamps 
 — yet it is a great matter to calm them, and to dispose 
 their souls for that great change they are presently to 
 undergo. But, alas! it fares otherwise with the greatest 
 part. They are yet strangers to the ways of religion, the 
 work of their salvation is yet to begin, and their lusts to 
 be mortified, their corruptions subdued, the whole frame 
 of their souls to be changed: and though they have scarce 
 so much strength as to turn them on their beds, yet 
 their warfare against principalities, powers, and spiritual 
 wickedness is but newly commenced; their work is 
 great, their disadvantages many, and the time very short 
 that is before them. Perhaps tliey are dull and insensi- 
 ble, and we shall hardly persuade them of their danger. 
 They will acknowledge they are sinners, and so are all 
 others, as well as they: they tmst to the merci-es of 
 Christ, and have confidence enough of their salvation; 
 and cannot be persuaded they want any thing that is 
 necessary for the same. Others of these, again, are 
 seized with fear, and call for the minister to comfort 
 
2l2 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 them. What shall he do? Shall he tell them that ail 
 their ten-ois are just, and it is now too late to repent? 
 I know some divines are peremptory in this case, and 
 think they should be left in despair: but, sure, it were a 
 sad employment for a minister, to go to visit a dying 
 man, only to tell him he is damned; and withal it is too 
 great boldness in us, to limit the grace and mercy of 
 God. True and sincere repentance will never come too 
 late; but, certainly, a deathbed repentance is seldom 
 sincere: and it is hard either for the minister, or the 
 man himself, to tell whether it be only the fear of hell, 
 or a true and godly sorrow that he feeleth in his soul. 
 All that a minister can do, is, to press him to all pos- 
 sible seriousness, and to resign himself to God for the 
 event; or to lay before him, in general, the terms and 
 conditions of the gospel-covenant: the application will 
 be hai-d and uncertain. 
 
 These, and many more, are the difficulties of the 
 ministerial function. It was not without a great deal of 
 reason that one of the fathers did call it, Onus angeli- 
 cis hiimeris formidandum: "A weight under which 
 angels' shoulders might shrink." Hence it was, that 
 the holy men of old have been so mightily afraid to un- 
 dertake it. Jeremiah, who was sanctified from the 
 womb, and ordamed a prophet to the nations, when he 
 received his commission, he cried out. Ah! Lord God, 
 behold, I cannot speak, for I am a child. And Ezekiel 
 though strengthened and confirmed by God, yet went 
 unwillingly; yea, in the bitterness and indignation of his 
 spirit. And, in the ancient church, the more eminent 
 and great persons were in piety and worth, the more 
 sensible they were of the greatness of this charge, and 
 the more loth to engage in it. Some of them have fled 
 into the mountains and deserts, or hid themselves in the 
 dens and caverns of the earth; and were more afraid to 
 be laid hands on by the bishop, than by the most bloody 
 persecutors. Three times did Ambrose flee from Milan; 
 and it is reported, that after he had travelled hard all 
 night, he found himself next morning at the outer gate of 
 that city he endeavoured to avoid. Gregory Nazianzen, 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION-. 213 
 
 being taken in his flight, and ordained by force, did com- 
 pose that exceKent oratjon which is at the begiiining of 
 his works; wherein he doth so well express the greatness 
 and the danger of the ministry, that the reading of it 
 (and I wish it were frequently and attentively read) 
 might, 1 think, do much to quell the confidence of the 
 most confident intruders. Augustine entered, by chance, 
 into the church of Hippo, just as the bishop Valerius was 
 speaking to the people concerning the choice of a minis- 
 ter, of whom they stood in great need. He was pres- 
 ently pitched upon, and almost ordained by force, after 
 he had, with tears, deprecated the charge; and, in these 
 strange terms: Qwirf/ vultis utpereaml intimating the 
 hazard he should thereby run. And Chrysostom pro- 
 fesseth of himself, that, when he was chosen to a bish- 
 opric, his soul and body were almost parted asunder, so 
 great was the grief and fear that seized upon his spirits ; 
 and that he did many times wonder how it had ever en- 
 tered into the minds of those that chose him, or what 
 great offence that church had been guilty of, which had 
 provoked God to suffer it to be committed to such an 
 unworthy person. So sensible were these excellent men 
 of the difficulties of this holy function, even in those 
 first and golden ages of the church; and certainly they 
 are much augmented to us, who live in these dregs of 
 time, wherein religion is almost banished out of the 
 world, the principles of it called in question by many- 
 pretenders to judgment and wit, and the practice not 
 only neglected but derided; insomuch that men are 
 frighted from godliness by the contempt that lieth upon 
 it: Mali esse cogrintur, ne ridiculi fiant. We have 
 a world of wickedness to fight against; and loho is 
 suffi.cient for these thingsl 
 
 Thus, having prosecuted the importance of the text, 
 it is time to make some application of it. And, first, I 
 shall address myself to those of the laity who vouchsafe 
 us their presence, that they may not think their time 
 mispent in some hours of attendance. 
 
 You see, dear people, what a weighty and difficult 
 charge they have to whom your souls are committed 
 
214 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 Whence is it, then, that some of you account the miii^ 
 isterial function the most useless employuient in the 
 cominonweahh, and that which might be most easily 
 spared? and that ministers have tasy lives, gaining their 
 living by the breath of their mouths, as some of you are 
 pleased to word it? Whence is it that this holy calling 
 comes to be so much despised, and that the names of 
 Minister, Parson, or Priest, are become words of igno- 
 miny and contempt? And whatever advantages of birth 
 and education a minister may have, yet his employment 
 is thought enough to degrade him, and put him below 
 every one that can pretend to the name of a gentle^ 
 man? 
 
 Again, how comes it that those small gleanings of 
 the church's patrimony, which sacrilege and oppression 
 have left us, should yet be envied, and looked upon 
 with an evil eye; and that a clergyman, who has spent 
 his time, and much of his fortune, in the schools of the 
 prophets, to fit himself for that employment wherein he 
 may be most beneficial to mankind, should yet be ma- 
 ligned for a small annuity during life, which, perhaps, 
 amounts not to the gains of the meanest tradesman? 
 And yet, if those persons had chosen another emplo}'- 
 ment — had taken Galen or Justinian for their masters, 
 perhaps they would have had parts and abilities sufficient 
 to have advanced themselves to wealth and honours, as 
 well as othei-s, and would not have been envied for it. 
 My beloved, I account him not worthy of the name of 
 a minister of Christ, who cannot patiently suffer injury, 
 contemprt, and envy. But certainly it is no good part in 
 the people, to put these upon them: it is a shrewd token 
 that they have a small regard to piety and religion, and 
 that their own souls are the things about them for which 
 they have the least concern. Learn, I beseech yon, 
 dear Christians, learn to take more rational measures of 
 things. Think how much you are indebted to the divine 
 goodness, which hath taken so great care of your ever- 
 lasting happiness, as to set apart an order of men, whose 
 business it shall be to promote and advance it. Do all 
 that you can to encourage and assist them in their workj 
 
THE MINISTERIAL. FUN-CTION. 213 
 
 g've them the encourdgement of your constant atten- 
 dance, and assist them, by helping to instruct those 
 children and servants vvlio are under your several char- 
 ges. Apply yourselves frequently to them for advice 
 and direction, and be often putting up that important 
 question, What shall we do to be saved? Yield them 
 that submission and obedience which is due unto them 
 in the Lord. Go not to church to sit as judges, and 
 censure the sermon when you return. If you be not 
 pleased with it, your ignorance or indisposition may be 
 the cause, and modesty should oblige you to siknce. 
 If you be taken with what you have heard, spend not 
 your time in talk about it; practice is the best way to 
 commend it; Beware of that spiritual pride and con- 
 ceitedness, which makes the people to strive with their 
 priests; which the prophet Hosea notes as an heinous 
 sin. Finally, to sum up your duty in the Apostle's 
 words, Obey them that have the rule over you, and sub- 
 mit yourselves: for they watch for your souls, as they 
 that must give account: that they may do it with joy, 
 and npt with grief: for that is unprofitable for you. 
 
 I mighti in the next place, take an occasion from 
 what hath been said, to press the great obligation that 
 lieth on patrons of churches, to seek out, and to make 
 choice of those whom they judge to be best qualified for 
 so high and weighty a charge; and might show, that it is 
 no small guilt that he draws upon himself, who presents a 
 person to the care of souls, of whose pradence and fideli- 
 ty it may be he hath so little confidence, that he durst not 
 intrust him with the management of his fortune, or the 
 tutory of his child; while, perhaps, others are overlook- 
 ed, that might be capable to do much more service in 
 the church ,°merely because they have not the good luck 
 to be related or recommended to the patron, or because 
 they have less money, or more conscience than to bar- 
 gain for the living. But I forbear this: and shall crave 
 Hberty of this venerable auditory, to take this occasion of 
 doing something that relates to my peculiar function, in 
 speaking a little to those sons of the prophets, those 
 candidates of holy orders, whose diligence and study aim 
 
216 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 at the ministry, and who are to be employed in the vine- 
 yard of God, when the present labourers shall be call- 
 ed off" to receive their reward. You see, sirs, what a 
 dreadful and important charge it is to which you aspire. 
 Consider, I beseech you, what great pains are necessary 
 to fit and qualify you for it. Ordinary callings are not 
 learned without a long apprenticeship, and will the art 
 of governing souls be learned on a sudden.' It is not 
 knowledge of controversy, or the gift of eloquence, 
 much less a strong voice and bold confidence that will 
 qualify you for it. The errors that abound among us, 
 make it necessary, indeed, that you should know how to 
 deal with the adversaries; for the clergy are many times 
 put to the pass the Jews were, at the building of the 
 second temple; w'ith one hand they nmst build the house 
 of God, and with the other they must hold a weapon: 
 yet certainly your greatest work lies within, in purifying 
 your minds, and learning that wisdom which is necessary 
 for souls. Begin then, I pray you, and preach to your 
 passions, and try what good you can do to your friends 
 and neighbours. Study that gravity and seriousness, 
 that humility and self-denial, that purity and mortifica- 
 tion, that becometh those who may one day stand in so 
 near a relation to God, and bear so eminent a charge 
 in his church. Be not too hasty and forward in rushing 
 into public; it is better you be drawn than nm. Nazi- 
 anzen complains of some in his time, who, with profane 
 hearts and unwashed hands, did rush into the holy func- 
 tion, and, before they were fit to receive the sacrament^ 
 would take upon them to celebrate it; and though they 
 be not come unto the age of men, if they have learned 
 some pious words, think themselves fit to be overeeers 
 of others: O prcBfecturum! O elatum animum! Saeer 
 etiam a cunabulis Sarnuel! Sapientes et mas'istri 
 sumus! This, I say, was the humour of some in his 
 days; and I am afraid the case is not much better in 
 ours. But if you be truly sensible of what you are to 
 undertake, you would think no time too much, to be 
 spent in preparation for it. 
 
 It remains yet that I address myself briefly to you. 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUffCTlOIV. Sit 
 
 my Reverend brethren, and Right Reverend fathers^ 
 We have been endeavouring to lay before you the im- 
 portance and difficulty of your employment; and you 
 know them much better than we can tell you. But 
 these things ought not to discourage you, or make you 
 faint under the weight, but rather to animate and excite 
 your care. As Alexander said once of an eminent haz-' 
 ard he had encountered, that now he had met with a 
 danger worthy his coura^: so may I say of your work, 
 that it is a business worthy your zeal, and the love and 
 affection which you owe unto your blessed master. And, 
 indeed, you can give no greater testimony of it, tha-n by 
 a faithful and conscientious discharge of the duties of 
 your calling. If your work is great, your reward is in- 
 finitely greater: and you have Omnipotence engaged in 
 your assistance. Up and be doing, and the Lord shall 
 be with you: only let us be careful to maintain such a 
 deep and constant sense of the engagements we lie un- 
 der, as may awaken us unto the greatest diligence and 
 watohfulness, both over ourselves and others. 
 
 As for the particulars of your duty, 1 dare not take 
 upon me to be an mstructer, who have much more need 
 to learn my own; yet, since I am not placed here to be 
 ahogether silent, I shall offer to you the Apostle's ex- 
 hortation to Titus, chap. ii. 15., and take the liberty to 
 insist a little upon the particulars of it: These things 
 speak and exhort, and rebuke with all authority. Let 
 no man despise thee. These things speak. Kere he 
 pointeth at that which ought to be the matter of our 
 doctrine and instruction. We are not to entertain our 
 people with subtle speculations, metaphysical niceties, 
 perplexed notions, and foolish questions, which engender 
 strife; but let us speak the things which become sound 
 doctrine. Let us frequently inculcate the great and un- 
 controverted truths of our religion, and trouble our peo- 
 ple no further with controversy than necessity doth re- 
 quire. Let us study to acquaint them with the tenor of 
 the gospel-covenant, and what they must do to be saved; 
 to inform them of the particular duties they owe both 
 lo God and man: for the Apostle had before been speak- 
 19 
 
218 IMPORTAXCK AND DIFFICULTY OF 
 
 ing of the duties to be recommended to every one ac- 
 cording to their several capacities and relations. And, 
 indeed, it were not amiss, that in catechising, ministers 
 would bring home the articles of faith by practical im- 
 provements, both teaching men their particular duties, 
 and pressing them to the performance. But it is not 
 enough to speak these things — to tell men what is in- 
 cumbent upon them: we must, besides, endeavour t9 
 excite and stir them up, by the most powerful and ef- 
 fectual persuasions; the judgment being informed, we 
 must do all to influence the affections: and this is the 
 proper use of our preaching; which, though it be over- 
 valued by those who place all religion in hearing, yet 
 certainly it is of excellent use, and ought to be managed 
 with a great deal of care. Let the matter be weighty 
 and grave, the method plain and clear, the expression 
 neither soaring on the one hand, nor too familiar on the 
 other. Some good men are not aware what contempt 
 they draw on religion by their coarse and homely allu- 
 sions, and the silly and trivial proverbs they make use of. 
 Nor should our expressions be too soft or effeminate, 
 nor our pronunciation affected or childish. Religion is 
 a rational and manly thing; and w should strive to 
 recommend it with the greatest adva.i''"ge. But, above 
 all, let us study such a zeal and fer--- ur, as, flowing 
 from the deep sense of the thing we sp^ak, and being 
 regulated with prudence and decency, may be fittest to 
 reach the hearts of the hearers. The \Tilgar that com- 
 monly sit under the pulpit, (as the excellent Herbert 
 speaks,) are commonly as hard and dead as the seatg 
 they sit on, and need a mountain of fire to kindle them. 
 The best way is, to preach the things first to ourselves, 
 and then frequently to recollect in whose presence we 
 are, and whose business we are doing. And I think it no 
 small advantage that some of a neighbouring nation have, 
 who make some considerable pause when they have done 
 with a point, that they may raise their so^uls towards 
 God, and that the people may renew their attention. 
 But when we have done all that we can by public 
 and general exhortatioB, we shall effectuate very little 
 
THE MINISTERIAL rrNCTIOTT. 219 
 
 without a more particular application to the persons 
 under our charge. Interest and self-love will blind the 
 eyes, and stop the ears of men, and make them shift off 
 from themselves those admonitions from the pulpit that 
 are displeasing: and therefore we are commanded not 
 only to teach and exhort, but also to rebuke with all au- 
 thority. Now, those whom we are to rebuke, are either 
 persons of a different persuasion, who dissent from our re- 
 ligion, or withdraw from our ordinances; and these must 
 be dealt with very patiently, and with much long suf- 
 fering. It is not to be expected, that an hasty confer- 
 ence, or an abrupt disputation, should prevail with those 
 who have been long habituated to false persuasions, and, 
 perhaps, have drunk them in with the first of their se- 
 rious thoughts, and religious inclinations. We must first 
 study to combat the perverseness of their will, the pre- 
 judices of the world, the desire of victory and applause, 
 their pre-engagement in a party, and their shame and 
 unwillingness to yield; and strive to render them meek 
 and pliable, and sincerely desirous to know the truth. 
 When we have obtained this, they will be both more 
 easily convinced, and more inexcusable, if through weak- 
 ness they still continue in their errors. But let us never 
 rest in having drawn over a person to our party, till we 
 have engaged him to seriousness in the practice of reli- 
 gion; for if he continue a stranger to that, it is little 
 matter whether he be Protestant or Papist, Pagan or 
 Mahometan, or any thing else in the world: nay, the 
 better his religion is, the more dreadful will his condem- 
 nation be. It was an excellent saying of an eminent 
 and holy person yet alive in our church, " That he 
 would rather be instrumental in persuading one man to 
 be serious in religion, than the whole nation to be con- 
 formists. ' ' The other sort of persons we have to re- 
 buke, are those of our own religion, for the vices and fail- 
 JRgs of their lives. And this must be done with a great 
 deal of courage and zeal — of prudence and discretion — of 
 meekness and love. More knowing and ingenious per- 
 sons may be dealt with sometimes by secret insinua- 
 tions, and oblique reflections on the vices they are guilty 
 
220 IMPORTANCE AND DIFFICULTY OP 
 
 of; and we may sometimes seek a way to reprove their 
 failings, by regretting and condemning our own. But 
 that artifice is not necessary with the vulgar: having pro- 
 fessed our V>ve and good intentions, it will be best to fall 
 roundly to the matter. Now this does suppose a great 
 deal of care, to acquaint ourselves with the humours and 
 conversation of our people; and the name of watchmen 
 that is given us, implieth no less. And though the 
 lamentable va&tness of some of our charges make it im- 
 possible to do all that we could wish, yet must we not 
 fail to do all that we can. It is an excellent practice 
 of some I have the happiness to be acquainted with, 
 who seldom miss any da_y wherein they do not apply 
 themselves to some or other of their people, and treat 
 about the affairs of their souls. 
 
 Another thing which may be implied in rebuking 
 with all authority, is, the conscientious exercise of that 
 authority which Christ hath given us in the public cen- 
 sures and rebukes of the church. But of this I shall say 
 no more, save only that it were an intolerable presump- 
 tion, and horrid sacrilege, to make use of these to serve 
 the ends of our passion and private revenge. 
 
 The last clause of the passage we cited, sounds some- 
 what strange: Let no man despise thee. Sure nobody 
 desires to be despised; and it is not always in the power 
 of man to hinder it. But the meaning of the words is, 
 that there should be nothing in our carriage and deport- 
 ment which may deserve contempt. We ought still to 
 have that apology of the orator in readiness: Quid ptit- 
 em? contemjitumne mel Equidem non video quid sii 
 in vita morihusque nosh-is quod despicere possit. 
 There is nothing that doth expose a minister to so much 
 contempt, as a vicious and irreligious deportment. Even 
 those who are profane themselves, and love vice in their 
 other companions, do yet abhor it in a clergyman, as 
 thinking it too gross and disingenuous, to practise all the 
 week what he hath been condenming on Sunday. I 
 shall not insist upon the grosser sort of vices. ^"010 
 tain male ominari de ecclesia: I would not bode so 
 luuch evil to the church, as to imagine the clergy capa^ 
 
THE MINISTERIAL FUNCTION". 221 
 
 ble of them. I shall point but to a few things, which, 
 though less heinous in their nature, tend to the contempt 
 and disrespect of the clergy. 
 
 And first, the least imputation of covetousness doth a 
 great deal of mischief this way. And you know it will 
 be reckoned covetousness in you, which is not so in oth- 
 ers. You will be more blamed for taking your own, 
 than they for encroaching on their neighbours. And 
 therefore, to prevent this imputation, so far as the mean- 
 ness of a minister's provision, and necessity of his fam- 
 ily, will permit, he should show himself frank and liber- 
 al in his dealings, especially with the poorer sort. 
 
 Another occasion of contempt is, the too much fre- 
 quenting the company of the laicks, and a vain and trif- 
 ling conversation among them. It was a wise saying, 
 whoever he was that spoke it, Quotidiana clericorum 
 cum laicis conversatio contemptibiles ipsos reddit. 
 And that of Hierom to Nepotian is very observable. 
 Facile contemnitur clericus si ad prandium invita- 
 tus scBpius veniat. A minister, in his conversation, 
 ought carefully to avoid all foolish and excessive jesting, 
 and immoderate mirth. I could never think it a good 
 character of a clergyman, to call him a merry fellow, 
 or a notable droll; and yet I do not condemn all cheer- 
 fulness and freedom, nor the innocent exercise of wit: 
 but it is one thing to make use of these now and then, 
 when they come in our way — and another, to search 
 and hunt after them; and those who have the knack of 
 it, are ready enough to fall into excess. 
 
 A third thing which will bring a clergyman into con- 
 tempt, is, an unallowable patience in hearing his master 
 dishonoured by the oaths and profane talk of those of 
 whom he standeth in awe. My brethren, if we had no 
 more but the common principles of ingenuity and hon- 
 our, they might make us resent these as greater affronts 
 than if men should spit in our faces: and yet this is but 
 one of the meanest engagements that lie upon us, to 
 check these exhorbitances with the greatest severity. 
 
 I shall name but another, and it is this: when men, 
 on design to avoid this contempt, would seem to dis- 
 19* 
 
222 MINISTERIAL FUNCTION. 
 
 claim their employment, by imitating the habit and de- 
 portment of secular persons; when they study the gentle- 
 man so much, that they forget the clergyman. If we 
 be ashamed of our own employment, no wonder if oth- 
 ers despise it. Far different were the thoughts of that 
 worthy gentleman, and excellent minister, whom I 
 named before, that sweet singer of Israel, Mr. Herbert, 
 who, the same night that he was admitted into the of- 
 fice of the ministry, said to his friend, " I now look 
 back on my aspiring thoughts, and I think myself more 
 happy, than if I had obtained what I so ambitiously 
 thirsted for. And I can now behold the court with an im- 
 partial eye, and see plainly, that it is made up of fraud, 
 and titles, and flattery, and many such other imaginary 
 painted pleasures. My greatest ambition from hence- 
 forth shall be, that I bring glory to my Jesus, whom I 
 have this day taken to be my master and governor; and 
 am so proud of his ser\ice, that I will always observe 
 and obey, and do his will, and always call him Jesus 
 my master. I will always contemn my birth, and any 
 title or dignity that can be conferred upon me, when I 
 shall compare them with the title of being a Priest, and 
 serving at the altar of Jesus my master." 
 
 I am afraid I have encroached too far on your pa- 
 tience. I shall close all with a serious obtestatioji of 
 our great apostle to Timothy; which you may believe 
 I durst not utter in my own name, but in the name of 
 the great master of lis all: I charge thee before God, and 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the 
 dead at his appearing, and his kingdom: preach the 
 word, be instant m season, and out of season; reprove, 
 rebuke, exhort whh all long-suffeiing and doctrine. 
 And the Lord of his mercy, so assist and prosper us all 
 in his own work, that we may be the happy instruments 
 of advancing his kingdom, and the welfare of souls, 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord. To whom» &c» 
 
SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REV. HENRY SCOUGAL, A.M. 
 
 BY GEORGE GAIRDEN, D.D. 
 
 PHIL. I. 21. 
 
 For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 
 
 It hath been the usnal practice of all nations in the 
 world, of whatsoever religion, sect, or persuasion, to 
 leave upon record to after ages, the lives and memorable 
 actions of those who have been eminent among them 
 for great or good actions. And however this practice 
 may have been abused, sometimes to serve the interest 
 of a sect or party, or other undue ends; yet that the 
 memory of good men ought thus to be transmitted to 
 posterity, may be deduced both from Scripture and com- 
 mon reason; it being fit thus to manifest the grace and 
 goodness of God in men, and thereby to advance his 
 glory and kingdom; and to make their light so shine 
 before others, that they may be useful instructions to the 
 world, and incentives to follow their examples. To this 
 we owe the r:emembrance of all those good and great 
 men recorded in the Old Testament: nay, on this is 
 gnounded the establishment and purity of our most holy 
 religion. We have left us the memorials of the life and 
 
224 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 dootrine of our blessed Lord and Master in the holy- 
 gospels, and the acts of his Apostles, whom he sent to 
 convert the world. And the pious Christians of suc- 
 ceeding ages, according to this pattern, were careful, 
 both by public discourses and writings, to awaken their 
 own and after times, with the remembrance of the zeal 
 and piety of holy and devout persons. 
 
 And now, if, by the general practice and consent of 
 all men, records of exemplary piety and goodness be 
 thus useful to posterity, even though they be strangers 
 to the persons of those whose lives and actions are trans- 
 mitted to them; I am sure we have much reason to think, 
 that some seasonable and useful meditations, at such a 
 time and in such a place as this is, may have some in- 
 fluence on our minds, when we have here before us the 
 remains of our departed friend, who hath so lately left 
 this world; whose presence and conversation was so 
 comfortable to us; whose innocence and goodness were 
 so exemplary; whose good-will, affection, and benefi- 
 cence were so sincere and universal; whose remem- 
 brance is so dear to us; who was so much the stay and 
 honour of our church, and so universally beloved and 
 esteemed by all. Sure the sense of all these, and the 
 sight of all this funeral attendance, cannot but cast our 
 Bouls into some deep thoughts. And to this I doubt not 
 but your hearts bear witness. Would I could say some- 
 thing useful for your meditations, and suitable to your 
 present temper and this subject! God assist and direct 
 our thoughts. 
 
 When I reflect upon the life and spirit of our friend, 
 (of the which I have had the honour and happiness to 
 have been so frequent an observer,) and when I consider 
 the constant temper and disposition of his soul, as to this 
 and the other world, the great resignation of his mind, 
 his willingness to stay here, that he might do some ser- 
 vice to his ever-blessed Maker and Redeemer; and yet 
 his cheerful thoughts and apprehensions of that happiness 
 that is above, and his ardent breathings after it: methinks 
 I hear always from him the words of St. Paul, To me 
 to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 225 
 
 I shall not trouble j'ou with any large explanation, 
 nor with the various readings of these words; we shall 
 only consider them in their most obvious sense and 
 meaning. The blessed Apostle being in bonds at Rome, 
 WTites this letter to the Philippians, to exhort them to a 
 perseverance in the faith of Christ, and to have their 
 conversation suitable to it. And, that they might not be 
 discouraged by his bonds, he tells them the happy fruits 
 of them, how much they had conduced for the further- 
 ance of the gospel; that the knowledge of his suffering 
 with such constancy for that religion which he had for- 
 merly so zealously opposed, was spread throughout that 
 city, and manifest in the palace itself: so that many 
 thereby were converted to the faith of Christ, and others 
 strengthened in it, and made more bold to preach the 
 gospel; so that Christ was preached everywhere, by 
 some, out of envy at the glory and fame he acquired in 
 planting the gospel there, and by others, in sincerity, 
 and out of love and good-will. So that he hoped, 
 whether by life or death, Christ should be magnified in 
 him; if he lived, by his constant preaching his gospel, 
 and living his life; if he died, by signing the truth of it 
 viith his blood: For me to live is Christ. " The whole 
 of my life in this world, the end of my living here, the 
 great aim of all my thoughts, and designs, and actions, is 
 Christ; to be endued with his Spirit, and lead his life; to 
 spread his gospel, and enlarge his kingdom. I have no 
 other design than this. God knows, and the world sees, 
 whether I mind riches, or pleasures, or glory among men. 
 No: I have consecrated my life and spirit to my blessed 
 Lord and master; and they shall be employed in his ser- 
 vice. Christ is my life: so that I live; yet not so much 
 I, as Christ that liveth in me." 
 
 Few words, but full of sense and truth. They are not 
 like those airy expressions which, when searched into, 
 have nothing but fancy and imagination at the bottom 
 of them ; bnt they contain the very marrow of Christi- 
 anity, and the whole of a Christian spirit; the complete 
 character of his life, and a perfect instruction for ours. 
 And this will appear if we consider a little more distinct-' 
 
226 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 ly their importance. For one to live to another, may- 
 be said in two respects: 1. When he is endued with the 
 same sp'u-it, and has the same temper of mind, and leads 
 the same kind of life; and, 2. Wheji his heart and his 
 life is wholly devoted to his love and service; when he 
 loves him above all, and minds nothing more than his 
 interest, and employs his life in serving his designs, and 
 doing his will. And, in both these respects, (which, 
 indeed, cannot be separated,) we may consider the 
 Apostle's words, To me to live is Christ; or, Christ is 
 my life. 
 
 I. First, As he was endued with the Spirit, and led 
 the life of his blessed master: Be ye followers of me, 
 saith he, even as I also am of Christ. And, indeed, 
 this is the great design of Christianity, and the truest 
 character of a Christian. All our duty and all our hap- 
 piness consists in the being like unto God, and the living 
 in that dependence upon, and subjection to him, that 
 reasonable creatures owe their Almighty Creator. Now, 
 seeing God dwelleth in that light which no man can 
 approach unto, whom no man hath seen nor can see; 
 therefore the only begotten Son, which is in the bosom 
 of the Father, he hath declared him. He hath clothed 
 himself with our flesh, and become man, and conversed 
 amongst us, like one of ourselves, and shown us what 
 the Father is, and how we must be lilce him. Would 
 we know how God would live amongst us, were he 
 clothed with our nature and infirmities, if he dwelt in 
 our flesh, and were visible to our eyes? Behold the 
 Son of God, consider his life and Spirit, and this is the 
 life of God; for he is the brightness of his Father's glory, 
 and the express image of his person. Would we learn 
 how far our nature is capable of being like unto God, 
 how we must be partakers of the divine nature, and be 
 renewed in the spirit of our minds, putting on the new 
 man, which, after God is created in righteousness and 
 true holiness? Consider Jesus Christ, subject to the 
 infirmities of our nature, and living the life of God. 
 Behold he hath given us an example, tliat we should 
 follow \^ steps. He is the light of the world; and they 
 
OF MR. HENRY 6COUGAL. 227 
 
 that follow him, shall not walk in darkness. In him 
 was life, and his life was the light of men, though dark- 
 ness comprehended it not. Consider the profound hu- 
 mility of his soul; the great meekness of his spirit; the 
 entire resignation of his will to his heavenly Father; the 
 unspotted purity of his desires and affections, wholly mor- 
 tified as to this lower world; the ardency of his love to 
 God, and his zeal and delight to do his will; his won- 
 derful patience under the greatest sufferings; his unin- 
 terested, sincere, and boundless charity towards men, 
 doing good even to those who hated and persecuted him, 
 and dying for those who crucified him. In these, and 
 in all other graces, he hath gone before us, and called 
 upon us to learn of him, and follow him. For this end 
 did he live and die, to endue us with his Spirit, and 
 change our nature into his. He humbled himself to our 
 nature, that he might make us partake of his: he hath 
 revealed unto us the nature of God, and his undeserved 
 grace and goodness to us, and our unspeakable misery, 
 and comiption, and estrangement from our heavenly 
 Father; and hath put us again into a capacity of being 
 his children, he himself becoming our elder brother, 
 lie hath raised us unto the hopes of the enjoyment of 
 God for evermore in boundless felicity, that we might 
 thus purify ourselves as God is pure. He hath breathed 
 his Holy Spirit into the world, to inspire us with his life, 
 and changed us into his image; and he hath told us, that 
 without this we shall never see the face of God. We 
 have therefore all the obligations in the world to make 
 Christ our life, and to follow Jesus. This is the only 
 mark and character whereby God will own and acknowl- 
 edge us for his. It is, besides, our greatest glory and 
 honour, to imitate so blessed an example, and a won- 
 derful expression of goodness and condescension, for the 
 Son of God to come down from heaven to give us this 
 pattern. He is the most perfect example of purity and 
 holiness, in whom there was no spot nor blemish; who 
 had no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth; but 
 his life was uniform, and always pure, and constant to 
 himself. And yet he hath given us the most plaia 
 
228 A SERMON- AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 and familiar copy, and the most exactly fitted to the 
 state and condition of men in this world. He did not 
 retire into cells and cloisters, as if none could walk as he 
 walked but monks and recluses; but he conversed freely 
 in the world, and lived in cities and villages, in compa- 
 ny and converse with others. His piety did not break 
 forth into severe fasting, and an excess of other bodily 
 austerities, in ecstatic raptures, and enthusiastic fits, 
 such as the lives of the famed saints of the Romish 
 church are stuffed with; but it was a plain life, of justice 
 and charity, meekness and humility, patience and con- 
 tentedness, and a readiness to do good to all men; a life 
 that is imitable by all, from the greatest prince to the 
 poorest peasant. The very importance of our name and 
 profession, the calling ourselves Christians, obliges us to 
 follow the example, and lead the life of Christ. And, 
 if we mean not this by it, we mean nothing to the pur- 
 pose: for he that saith he abideth in him, ought himself 
 also to walk, even as he walked. Nay, it is this only, 
 the being endued with his Spirit, that can entitle us to 
 an interest in him, and that happiness which he has pur- 
 chased for us: for if any man hath not the Spirit of Christ, 
 he is none of his; so great and many are the obligations 
 that we have to follow Jesus. His commands are nothing 
 but the transcript of his own life and Spirit: we ought 
 always to have him in our eye; and in every disposition 
 of our soul, in every undertaking and design; to con- 
 sider how our blessed master would have done in these 
 circumstances, and aspire always to have the same mind 
 that was in him; and never rest till Christ be formed in 
 us. 
 
 But, alas! how unlilie are we to the holy Jesus! 
 Christians in name and profession, but not in deed and in 
 truth. How unworthy a character would it make of 
 him, to measure him by the lives and spirits of those 
 who call themselves his followers. Alas! in what pas- 
 sages or period of life can we say sincerly. To me to 
 live is Christ? Do we propose to ourselves the same 
 designs? Are we endued witii any spark of his boundless 
 charity? Do our souls burn with love to God, or have 
 
OF MR^ HENRY 9C0UGAL; 220 
 
 we such a sincere good will to our neighbours? Are 
 our desires and affections crucified to this world, and en- 
 livened towards heaven? Yea, what conformity is th^re 
 in our outward lives unto his most holy laws? Where 
 is that forwardness to do good to all men^ that meek 
 suffering of injuries, and ready forgiving of enemies, and 
 doing them good? Is scraping and scrambling after 
 wealth, and this world's trifles; is rioting and wallowing 
 in sensual pleasures, and living like brutes; is contend- 
 ing for places and glory among men; is strife and envy, 
 contention and evil speaking, and other such-like works 
 of the flesh — are these, I say, becoming the followers 
 of Jesus Christ? Is this to live like him, or are they 
 the fruits of his Spirit? Nay, sure, in this our hearts 
 must condemn us; and, alas! our lives do testify against 
 us. 
 
 But, indeed, well might the Apostle say, To me to 
 live is Christ, who was so much endued with his Spirit, 
 and conformed to his life; whom nothing could separate 
 from the love of God; who rejoiced as much in suffering 
 his will, as in doing it; who was so often in labour, and 
 stripes, and prisons, in perils of all sorts, in watching, 
 and hunger, and thirst, in fastings, and cold, and naked- 
 ness; so far was he from enjoying the pleasures of the 
 ^orld: who knew so well both how to abound and be 
 in want, and in whatsoever state, therewith to be coti- 
 tent; who was so much crucified to the world, and the 
 \vorld unto him ; whose love and charity was so exuberant 
 and boundless towards his brethren, being ready to spend 
 and to be spent for them, though the more he loved, the 
 less he was loved again; who travelled through the world 
 to make men better, and spared no labour or pains to 
 make them happy; spending his life in this employment, 
 and enduring all kinds of hardships in it. So that, in a 
 word, he lived; yet not so much he, as Christ that lived 
 in him. 
 
 II. But, secondly, these words do import, that his 
 
 heart and life were devoted to the service of Christ; that 
 
 he loved him above all things, and minded nothing more 
 
 than his interest, and employed his life in serving his de- 
 
 20 
 
280 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 signs, and doing his will, and lived by his faith. The 
 hfe of man in this world, is to be considered both as to 
 the inward and outward man. The former, which is 
 that of the soul, consists in the understanding, the will, 
 and the affections; the other, being the outward life and 
 conversation, is regulated according to the inward dispo- 
 sitions of the soul. And as a man's sentiments and dis- 
 positions are, such is his life. Now, as the life of the 
 body is strangely disordered, when the blood and spirits 
 do not run in their ordinary course, but make convulsive 
 and involuntary motions, which are nothing useful to 
 the body, nor guided by the will; so the life of our souls 
 is so corrupted, as that we may be said to be dead while 
 we live, when our judgment is blind and false, our will 
 perverse and crooked, our affections earthly and carnal, 
 and we do not follow the will of God. And this is the 
 state of our life by nature. What a strange blindness is 
 there in the spirit of man.' We understand almost noth- 
 ing of the greatest things, and judge perversely of other 
 things. How little do we know of God, of oui* souls, 
 of their misery, or wherein their true happiness consists,- 
 or of the state after this life? And how perversely do 
 we judge of the trifles of this life, as if our happiness 
 and our all were summed up in them? How corrupt 
 are the aftections and dispositions of our hearts! We love 
 what we ought to hate; we trust what will certainly fail 
 us, and distrust that which should be our only confidence •>• 
 we fear that which can do us no harm, and are regard- 
 less of our greatest dangers: we busy ourselves about tri- 
 fles, or things that will certainly ruin us, and do not 
 mind our greatest interests. Aow Je^us Christ is come 
 into the world full of grace and truth, to renew the spirit 
 of our minds, and to change the disposition of our hearts, 
 and the course of our lives: and the life that we ought 
 te lead, is by the faith of the Son of God, who loved us 
 and gave himself for us. We must not live by sense, 
 and our own foolish passions, and sentiments of things; 
 but according to those sentiments and that faith that 
 he by his word and Spirit inspires us with. To serve 
 Jesus Christ, is to live by hi? faith, and to live by the 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 231 
 
 faith of the Son of God, is to judge and esteem of things 
 as he has revealed them, and as he would have us, and 
 accordingly to guide and direct our hearts and lives; to 
 love what he bids us love, and hate what he would have 
 us to hate; to hope and trust in his promises; to do what 
 he commands, and forbear and avoid what he forbids; 
 and to employ our life in doing his will, and serving his 
 designs. He hath taught us to make a right judgment 
 and estimate of things; to have a deep sense of the un- 
 speakable misery and sinfulness of our corrupt nature, 
 of the infinite greatness, goodness, and mercy of God, 
 and the wonderful contriN-^ance and value of our redemp- 
 tion. He has shown us the worth and the degeneracy 
 of our souls, and what great things they are capable of 
 by the pure grace and favour of God. He hath laid 
 open the deceitful appearances of this present world, and 
 the great moment of that eternity of joy or misery that 
 awaits us hereafter. He hath made known to us what 
 great things he hath done and suffered for us, and what 
 boundless compassion and love he has for such undeserv- 
 ing creatures. Now, the spring of that life we should live 
 by the faith of Jesus Christ, is, to have our understand- 
 ings renewed and enlightened, and to judge sincerely 
 and aright of these things, according as he, who is truth 
 itself, hath revealed them unto us: and that not to gratify 
 our curiosity in knowing them, or making them matter 
 of vanity, and talk to others; for then we know noth- 
 ing as we ought: but to have such a deep sense and feel- 
 ing of them, as to enliven our hearts, and guide our 
 practices. For then do we truly live by the faith of 
 Christ, when the sense of our own sinfulness and misery 
 sinks us into the deepest humility, and sincere abhorrence 
 of ourselves; and the thoughts of the unspeakable good- 
 ness, love, and mercy of God, and what our ever-bles- 
 sed Redeemer hath done, suffered, and purchased for us, 
 inspires our hearts with ardent love to them; and this 
 becomes the spring of all our actions; makes us delight 
 to do his will, and be well pleased to suffer it; and study 
 always to promote his interest in the world, to make 
 
232 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 him be known and loved by all we can; and seek his 
 glory and honour in all we do, and not our own. 
 
 Thus to us to live is Chri.?t. Thus ought we to guide 
 our understandings by his light, to inflame our hearts 
 with his love, to spend our lives in his service, and di- 
 rect our actions to his glory. But, alas! how generally 
 are those who call themselves Christians, void of this life 
 and spirit? Who is there that sincerely makes an esti- 
 mate and judgment of things, according to the light of 
 Jesus Christ? that thinks himself worthy to be truly hated 
 by all? that really counts the honours and promotions, 
 the wealth and pleasures of this world, as so many 
 snares to his soul? that heartily values the favour and ap- 
 probation of God, beyond the esteem and praise of men? 
 And however some men may have some fruitless specu- 
 lations in their understandings about such-like truths, 
 yet, alas! how few suffer them to sink into their hearts, 
 and direct their lives? Where is the love of Jesus? the 
 lively hopes and ardent desires after the glory that is to 
 be revealed? the true fear of God, or trust in him, or a 
 sincere desire and delight to do his will? And whatever 
 professions may be made of all these, yet where do the 
 fruits of them appear in men's lives and conversations? 
 for the tree is known by its fruit. How few actions are 
 there that seem to proceed from the hearty love of 
 Christ? W^herein do we sincerely aim at the good of 
 men, and the happiness of their souls? When do we 
 singly propose to ourselves the glory of God, and the 
 doing him service? What instances are there in our 
 conversation that seem to flow from an unfeigned hu- 
 mility, and truly mean thoughts of ourselves? Alas! it 
 would puzzle us, I fear, to instance the action or period 
 of our life that flowed purely from such principles. We 
 are creatures of sense, and guided by other measures; 
 the love of reputation among men; a concern for the 
 conveniences and pleasures of this life, and an aversion 
 to the troubles of it; a desire of transcending others in 
 power, wealth, and knowledge; a natural sloth of spirit, 
 and incojisideration of mind; and, which is the root of 
 
or MR. HENRY SCOUGAl,. 233 
 
 all, pride, and a blind and inordinate self-love. These 
 are the springs that put all in motion; by these princi- 
 ples we are guided in our designs, they mingle themselves 
 with our best performances: and an impartial consider- 
 ation may make us sensible, that there are few actions 
 wherein some one or other of these have not always a 
 great stroke and interest. 
 
 But it is far otherwise with St. Paul; who, however, 
 before his conversion, was actuated by a blind zeal, 
 yet, no sooner had that glorious light which dazzled the 
 eyes of his body, enlightened those of his mind, but he 
 inade appear, by his life and spirit, that he lived by the 
 faith of the Son of God, and tliat to him to live was Christ. 
 How did that light and life shine before men; and how 
 manifest were they in him, who counted all things but 
 dung and loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of 
 Christ Jesus! who gloried in nothing so much as his 
 cross, by which the world was crucified to him, and he 
 unto the world? who reckoned the sufferings of this pres- 
 ent time not worthy to be compared with the glory that 
 is to be revealed? whom neither worldly advantage, nor 
 the greatest crosses and afflictions, neither the power 
 or malice of devils and men could separate from the 
 love of Christ? who gloried in nothing more than in suf- 
 fering for him? whose zeal was so great, and his industry 
 and diligence so vigorous, and his care and management 
 so prudent and wise, in propagating his life and spirit, 
 and spreading his doctrine? who made so sudden a change 
 throughout the world, and so many nations his disciples? 
 whose divine letters have so much tended to the estab- 
 lishment and propagation of the gospel in that and all 
 succeeding generations; a single passage of one of which, 
 occasioned the conversion of one of the greatest fathers 
 of the church: in which holy epistles the Christian doc- 
 trine is so well represented; wherein persons of all ranks 
 and conditions have their duties so clearly described; 
 where bishops, and pastors, and people, rich and poor, 
 husband and wife, parents and children, masters and 
 servants, the prosperous and the afflicted, may learn their 
 20* 
 
234 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 Christian duty and deportment in their several circum- 
 stances. 
 
 But I forbear to speak of that great Apostle of the 
 Gentiles. The present occasion leads us hither; nor 
 shall I presume to make a parallel. I know there is one 
 glory of the sun, another of the moon, and another of 
 the stars: and one star differeth from another in glory. 
 As the happiness of the other world, so the piety and 
 goodness of this have their degrees and measures. I 
 shall only consider, for our instruction, how, in its own 
 measure, the life and spirit of our friend do breath forth 
 the same sentiments. To me to live is Christ; how his 
 life and example, his conversation and instructions, his 
 thoughts and designs, the inward endowments and dis- 
 positions of his soul, and the outward deportment and 
 actions of his life, were, as to the main, the fruits and 
 effects of a Christian spirit, of a holy and divine temper 
 of mind; and how they all tended, and were employed, 
 to increase the same in himself, and stir it up in others, 
 and to revive something of the ancient Christian piety 
 and goodness in the world. 
 
 To me to live is Christ. Indeed well may it be said 
 of his life, whose early beginnings and first blossoms 
 were seasoned with pious inclinations, as well as the 
 maturer peaiods of it. The right managing of infancy 
 and childhood, is ordinarily the least of a parent's care; 
 and any pious exercises are usually the least of children's 
 thoughts. Every trifle tickles their fancies, and takes 
 up their spirits: little passions and envies, and other is- 
 sues of our natural corruption, begin to sprout forth 
 even in that tender age. But in our deceased friend^ as 
 it was his father's pious design to devote him to the ser- 
 vice of God and his church in this holy function, who 
 did therefore take a suitable care even of his infancy and 
 childhood ; so his pious inclinations, and the suitable dis- 
 positions of his spirit, did happily conspire with it: and 
 he gave early indications of them even in those tender 
 years. He was not taken up with the plays and little di- 
 versions of those of his age, (which children so much 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 235 
 
 doatnpon;) but, upon such occasions, did usually retire 
 from them; and that, not out of sullenness of humour, 
 or dullness of spirit, (the sweetness and serenity of whose 
 temper did even then appear,) but out of a staidness 
 of mind, going to some privacy, and employing his timo 
 in reading, prayer, and such serious thoughts as that age 
 was capable of Sometimes he would be taken up with 
 the thoughts of the law of Moses, wondering how altars 
 and sacrifices, and its other ceremonies, were not now 
 among the exercises of our worship; at other times em- 
 ploying himself in little imitations of the exercises of the 
 holy function, as preaching, and the like. And among 
 other instances of the happy fruits of such retirements, 
 this deserves to be remembered, that, being once in a 
 serious reflection what course of life he should take 
 that might be conducive to the salvation of his soul, and 
 being in a deep muse of thoughts, he takes up the Bible 
 to read a portion of it: and though he was always averse 
 to the making a lottery of the Holy Scriptures, yet he 
 could not but take notice of the first words which, acci- 
 dentally, he cast his eyes- upon, and which made no 
 small impression on his spirit; ' By what means shall a 
 young man learn to purify his way? by taking heed 
 thereto, according to thy word.' The diversions he was 
 then most taken with, did speak out the greatness of his 
 mind and spirit; and he seemed to act all the grandeur of 
 this world while a child: when, in learning the Latin he 
 began to understand the Roman story, he retired usually 
 with the most ingenious of his fellows, composed little 
 orations, and acted the parts of the Roman senators. I 
 cannot here omit that vastness of memory, and forward- 
 ness of judgment, which did even then appear; in that, 
 when he began to take notice of the daily reading of the 
 Holy Scriptures at home, he could not only repeat seve- 
 ral verses at that time, whether the historical or other 
 parts; but afterwards, upon the turning to any one par- 
 ticular chapter, could call them to remembrance; and 
 whereas those of that age can, for the most part, re- 
 member only some little incoherent passages of public 
 sermons, he did usually take up their whole scope, and 
 
236 A SERMON AT THE FUNERALi 
 
 give a brief account of them. And though children 
 generally love only the society of their fellows, or &uch 
 as can entertain them with silly and foolish stories; yet 
 such was the seriousness of his spirit, and the love he 
 even then had for knowledge and good men, that when 
 he had an opportunity of hearing serious and reverend 
 persons, who used to resort to his father's house, he was 
 careful to attend to them, and listen to their wise and 
 pious discourses. His improvements in human literature 
 were beyond the ordinary attainments of his age; having 
 not only acquired a singular and unaffected elegance in 
 the Latin tongue, but also a considerable proficiency in 
 Greek, in the Hebrew, and some other of the oriental 
 languages; being versed, also, in history, and in geome- 
 try, and other parts of the mathematics. And such was 
 the clearness of his apprehension, and the forwardness 
 of his judgment, that, upon the overheaj-ing an occasion- 
 al discourse of some who were passing their first years 
 in the University, he did quickly take up the nature of 
 a syllogism, the use of the symbols in contriving it, and 
 could readily form one upon any subject. 
 
 Such were his attainments, and such was the temper 
 of his spirit in that early period of his life, which others 
 for the most part spend in vanity and folly, and begin to 
 repent of, when they come to think themselves men. 
 And we may see how much a prudent father's wise and 
 pious care, when it meets with a fit temper and disposi- 
 tion in a child, may contribute to plant the seeds of those 
 virtuous endowments and good inclinations in that tender 
 age, which will bring forth much fruit in their riper 
 years; and with how much reason the wise man bids us, 
 Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he 
 is old he will not depart from it. 
 
 But the paths of the just are as the shining light, which 
 shineth more and more unto the perfect day. These 
 were the early dawnings of piety and goodness, which 
 appeared in him in those first years of his age, before he 
 came to this corner of our land ; and there became still 
 more manifest and conspicuous. His improvements had 
 now fitted him for the University : and here he gave fur- 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 237 
 
 tber proofs of a pious disposition and a capacious under- 
 standing. He was far removed from those levities and 
 foolish customs, those little animosities and strifes which 
 the inconsiderate youth are sometimes guilty of; but was 
 even then grave and staid in his deportment, as was ob- 
 served by all, yet free and unaffected. The learning 
 that was then in fashion, though he saw quite through 
 it, yet it did not satisfy his understanding, nor could he 
 perceive its use, save to wrangle pro and con about any 
 thing. He was desirous to dive into the nature of 
 things, and not be involved into a strife of hard words, 
 and a maze of nice distinctions: and, therefore, by his 
 own proper industry, and private study, he became, even 
 then, master of that philosophy which has now got such 
 footing in the world; besides a singular proficiency he 
 made in the several parts of mathematics, in history, and 
 other human learning. But he was always careful to 
 beware of any philosophy or false knowledge that was 
 opt to have a bad influence on the mind, and debauch 
 the spirit, as to a right sense of God and religion; and 
 never suffered himself to be tainted in the least with 
 such. And there was nothing that more endeared any 
 philosophical tratlis to him, than when they gave right 
 apprehensions of God, and just thoughts of morality and 
 virtue. His mind being always composed to a religious 
 temper, he even then made it his business, by the fre- 
 quent reading of the most pious and useful books, and 
 a happy conversation, sanctified by a constant devotion, 
 and an unprejudiced mind, to frame to himself, amidst the 
 various opinions and distractions of Christendom, right 
 apprehensions of religion, and accordingly to suit his 
 practice: so that, even then, religion was the matter of 
 his serious and impartial choice, and not merely the 
 prejudiceof custom and education. He used sometimes 
 to write essays of morality, and occasional meditations; 
 which as they were singularly eloquent and ingenious, 
 so they breathed forth the devotion of his mind, and the 
 seriousness of his spirit; and would very w-ell become a 
 riper age. It being the custom of the youth to have 
 private meetings about the ordering the concerns of tlieir 
 
238 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 commencements, where he was made constant president 
 among his fellows, his discourses to them were so grave 
 and becoming, (as some of them have professed,) that 
 they looked upon them as the sayings of a gray head, 
 and thought they savoured of the wisdom of a senator. 
 Such was his deportment and improvement for the few 
 years he resided in the University: so that, in the esteem 
 of all, he did not a little honour that degree which is 
 then given, of which some are said to be so much the 
 reproach. And, therefore, he no sooner came out of 
 the University, but he was thought worthy to be a 
 master, where he had been so lately a scholar; and, after 
 having given sufficient pi"oofs of his fitness, by teaching 
 for the next term the class of one who was occasional- 
 ly absent, he was accordingly promoted: and even in 
 this station, to him to live icas Christ. He was careful 
 so to behave himself in his own conversation, and in the 
 exercises of that office, as to preserve his own con- 
 science pure, and void of offence, and to serve the in- 
 terests of Christianity; training up the youth in such 
 principles of learning and goodness, as might make 
 them most serviceable both to church and state. He 
 was careful not to drive on little designs, or maintain 
 factions and heats in the society, but studied always to 
 compose them; and when it would not do, they were 
 his regret; but he was sure not to make one of them. 
 He always preserved his authority entire amongst the 
 unruly youth, and would quickly compose their disor- 
 ders and tumults, and yet gain their love and esteem; 
 and knew well how to entertain them with freedom and 
 kindness, and yet oblige them to that respect that be- 
 comes a scholar towards his master. So far was he 
 from designing his own private gain, that when a tumult 
 had arisen among the unruly youth, in which there 
 w^ere some under his care who could easily have pur- 
 chased their pardon by the payment of an inconsidera- 
 ble mulct, and the assurance of their good behaviour 
 afterwards: and when such was their perverseness that 
 they would not do it, though his paying it in their name 
 would have finished the business; yet, rather than do 
 
OF MR. HEIGHT SCOUGAL. 239 
 
 such a seemingly unworthy act, which might prostitute 
 authority., and encourage them to Hke tumultuous prac- 
 tices, he suffered them to be expelled, to his own con- 
 siderable detriment, as to his worldly interests, having 
 but a few left behind. He was careful to instract the 
 youth in the most intelligible and useful principles of 
 human knowledge. And it deserA^es to be remembered, 
 that he was the first in this corner of the land (perhaps 
 in the whole nation) who taught the youth that philos- 
 ophy, which is now the universal preference by all the 
 knowing world. He looked upon it as the most proper 
 for framing their judgments, and disposing them to con- 
 ceive things aright; for taking them off from a disputing 
 humour, and a vanity in hard words and distinctions^ 
 and in thinking they knew something, when they knew 
 nothing. He thought it served to enlarge and raise their 
 apprehensions of Almighty God, by considering the 
 vastness of his works, and the admirable wisdom and 
 goodness that appeared in the order of the world, and 
 the wonderful contrivance even of the most minute 
 creature; that it disposed them to consider the nature 
 and worth of their inmiortal souls, and of what small 
 moment all the sensual pleasures of this lower world 
 were; and that it inclined them to a more universal love 
 and good-will towards all, and to meaner thoughts of 
 themselves and their knowledge. He was very careful 
 to train them up in the best and most useful principles 
 of morality, and to guard them against the debauched 
 sentiments of Leviathan. And as he thus made human 
 learning serviceable to the ends of piety and religion, 
 so he made it his great endeavour to have their minds 
 inspired with this. On the Lord's day, in the eveningj 
 he usually had some pious discourses with them, laying 
 open the folly and heinousness of vice and impiety, and 
 the excellency and advantage of religion and goodness; 
 and such other considerations as might both instruct their 
 minds, and gain upon their tempers. And he failed not 
 to deal with each of them apart in private. Those who 
 were of bad inclinations, he studied to reform and 
 amend; and in whom he saw any appearance of good- 
 
240 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 ness, he was careful to encourage and cherish thorn. 
 Thus he bath made appear, by his practice, that phi- 
 losophy and religion are not enemies to one another; 
 but that the sober and discreet use of our reason makes 
 us more capable of the truths and graces of our reli- 
 gion. 
 
 But God had designed him for the more immediate 
 service of his church, unto which he had been devoted 
 from the womb. And therefore, by the counsel of 
 some serious and reverend persons in the church, whose 
 advices were of great weight with him, he was called 
 forth to preach the gospel, and a little while after en- 
 tered into holy orders, and was employed, as you know 
 in the office of the ministry, in the country; where, 
 though his stay was so short, yet the proofs that he 
 gave both of his fitness for, and zeal m, that holy func- 
 tion, were singular. He found he had now more obli- 
 gations lying on him for piety and innocence of life: 
 and, as the ambassador of his blessed master, he must 
 be very tender of his honour, and of persuading those 
 he was sent unto, to be reconciled to God: and therefore 
 he was careful to shun even all appearances of evil. He 
 studied, during his short stay, by catechising, to instruct 
 his people, with the greatest plainness and affection, ii> 
 the right sense and knowledge of religion and their duty;' 
 and to show them the folly and unreasonableness of 
 those shifts and pretences whereby they encouraged 
 themselves in a bad life. He endeavoured to understand 
 their tempers, and accordingly to apply himself to them^ 
 He was deeply sensible of the little sense of religion 
 that generally appeared: and when he saw any spark 
 of goodness, how strangely was he cheered with it! 
 He more valued the humble innocence, and cheerful 
 contentment and resignation of one poor woman in that 
 place, than all the more goodly appearances of others, 
 having oft in his mouth, Indocti cashan rtepiunt; 
 He endeavoured to bring them to a devout and constant 
 attendance on the public worship; where be always 
 went, and joined with them at the beginning of it; think- 
 ing it very unfit, that the invocation of Almighty God, 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOIJGAL, 241 
 
 the reading of some portions of the Holy Scriptures, 
 making a cocifession of our Christian faith, and rehears- 
 Lig the ten commandments, should be looked upon 
 only as a preludium for ushering in the people to the 
 church, and the minister to the pulpit. His sermons 
 were always devout and serious, and seasonable; and 
 he endeavoured to fit them to the capacities of the peo- 
 ple: and he revived the use of the lectures, looking on 
 it as the most edifying Wray, to have (as a great light of 
 litis nation used to say) long texts and short sermons. 
 Birt I must not so slightly pass over his preaching, 
 in which we are all so much concerned. A wise man 
 hath lately written an essay, how to make a good use 
 of bad sermons: and it were to be wished we were in- 
 structed in making good ones, such I mean, as might 
 have an influence on men's hearts and lives. And sure 
 I think all that heard him will acknowledge his practice 
 to be no contemptible pattern. He thought it should be 
 a minister's care to choose seasonable and useful sub- 
 jects, such as might instnict the people's minds, and 
 better their lives; not to entertain them with debates, 
 and strifes of words; that he should express himself in 
 the most plain and affectionate manner; not in airy and 
 fanciful words, nor in words too big with sense, and 
 having a great many thoughts crowded together, which 
 the people's understanding cannot reach; nor in philo- 
 sophical terms and expressions, which are not familiar 
 to vulgar understanding; nor in making use of an unusual 
 word, where there could be found one more plain and 
 ordinary to express the thought as fully. He looked 
 upon it as a most useful help for composing sermons, to 
 make the Sunday's sermon the subject of our meditation 
 and mental prayer for the foregoing week, that it may 
 thereby sink deep into our spirits, and afl'ect our own 
 hearts, which would make us more capable of teaching 
 others. He thought it a fk expedient for composing us 
 to a serious and affectionate preaching, to propose to 
 ourselves, in the meditation of it, purely the glory of 
 God, and the good of men's souls, and to have this al- 
 ways in our eye; and, in our preaching, to make frequent 
 
242 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAl. 
 
 collections of the divine presence, and short ejaculationa 
 towards heaven; thereby to preserve us in that humble 
 temper, that seriousness and gravity, that becomes us in 
 the presence of God, and as the ambassadors of Christ. 
 And how conformable was his practice to these rules! 
 The matter of his discourses was always so useful and 
 seasonable; his words and expressions so plain, and pro- 
 per, and well chosen; his deportment so grave and un- 
 affected, becoming the sense of whose amba^ador ho 
 was; his manner of utterance so affectionate, and expres- 
 sive of the passionate love and concern he had for men's 
 souls, accompanied with such an act of sweetness and 
 mildness, as charmed men's spirits. And all was so full 
 of light and heat, that I think I may say, in the words 
 of the disciples concealing our blessed Saviour: Did not 
 our hearts burn within us, while he opened unto us the 
 Scriptures? How did the Holy Spirit, by him, enlighten 
 our minds, and affect our hearts? There are some kinds 
 of words and expressions some tones and ways of ut- 
 terance, which will raise the passions and affections of 
 predisposed tempers, without at all enlightening their 
 minds, — even as music does. And there are others 
 capable of laying open the nature and reason of things, 
 but in so dry a manner, that they float merely upon our 
 understanding as matter of speculation and talk, and do 
 not sink into our hearts. And though there be much 
 noise, now-a-days, about the methods of preaching, and 
 the preferences of one to another; yet it is in this, I am 
 afraid, that we lose ourselves on both sides. But in 
 this, sure, I may appeal to all that heard him, whether 
 his discourses, and his manner of uttering them, did not 
 serve at once both to enlighten their minds, and warm 
 their hearts? And so tender was he of the honour and 
 reputation due to the preaching of the gospel, that as he 
 was careful, on the one hand, to express himself in the 
 most plain, intelligible, and affectionate words; so, also, 
 on the other, to avoid all childish metaphors, apish ges- 
 tures, jest, and big words, and other such indecencies 
 as did not become the gravity of the function, and were 
 apt to occasion the smiles and laughter of the profane, 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 243 
 
 rather than the piety of the serious. And I dare say, the 
 most profane scoffers of the nation were never tempt- 
 ed to turn his expressions or gestures into ridicule. 
 Nay, many of avowedly profligate lives, have been ex- 
 tremely affected by his sermons, which pricked them to 
 their hearts, he laid them so open to themselves, and 
 made them so sensible of their bnitishness and danger, as 
 they themseJves have acknowledged. 
 
 I cannot here omit the deep sense he had of true elo- 
 quence, and his high value for it; professing he would 
 exchange for it all the other human learning he was 
 master of. He was sensible of the little knowledge he 
 had in the ars voluntatis; how little we understood 
 of the nature of men's passions and inclinations, and 
 what things were most capable of bending their wills, 
 and prevailing upon their minds, according to their 
 different tempers. And accordingly he judged there 
 were two essential defects in our best kind of eloquence. 
 The one was, that in the meditating our discourses, we 
 rather merely considered the issues of our reason, and the 
 nature of the things we were thinking of, and did not so 
 much reflect upon the temper of the persons we were to 
 speak to, and what kind of reasoning, words and expres- 
 sions, would make the best impression upon their minds; 
 and therefore it was nothing strange, that words let fly 
 at random touched them so little. The other, that our 
 hearts were not thoroughly endued with those disposi- 
 tions we would work on others by our words; and there- 
 fore it was no wonder all we said made so little impres- 
 sion on them. 
 
 But ] come now to the last stage and period of his 
 life, wherein it most eminently appeared that to him t€- 
 live was Christ. God had designed him for a more uni- 
 versal use and service in his church; and therefore, by 
 the wise providence of the Almighty, he is removed from 
 a private charge in the country, to a more general one, 
 of training up the youth for the holy ministry, and the 
 care of men's souls. Promotions of this nature, espe- 
 cially when they are made by the votes of many, are 
 iisually attended with little factions, combinations, and 
 
244 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAI. 
 
 heats; but, as the purchase was none of his design, so, 
 the general sense of his worth and goodness gave him 
 the unanimous voice of the clergy of this diocese, (who 
 promote to that station,) and the universal approbation 
 of all that knew him: and the apprehension he had of 
 the weight and importance of that office, and his mean 
 thought of himself, made him deliberate about it till 
 their next meeting. Indeed, both his natural, acquired, 
 and moral endowments, made him be judged by all, 
 worthy of this charge. His memory was singular; and 
 though he loved more to study things than words, yet, 
 for instance, in a few days time, he learned to under- 
 stand one of our Western languages, and could read it, 
 in English, with more readiness than those who had lived 
 many years where it is spoken. As to things of impor- 
 tance, he could soon give them a lasting impression on 
 his mind ; though, at length, he gave over the commit- 
 ting public discourses to his memory, professing, when 
 he went about it, he was ashamed to see himself at such 
 a childish exercise. His understanding was ready, clear, 
 and piercing; and he would quickly see through things 
 in civil affairs, as well as in matters of learning. He 
 did not so much read books, as think them: and, by a 
 transient view, would quickly comprehend the design 
 and marrow of them. He had not spent his whole 
 time in reading, being sensible that it often served to 
 dull, confuse, and prejudicate men's understandings, 
 and make them of imperious and dictating tempers: and 
 therefore he made a prudent mixture, of a moderate 
 reading, a choice of useful books, and consulting the liv- 
 ing, as well as the dead, having a singular art of benefit- 
 ing both himself and others, by conversation and dis- 
 course; and he digested and improved all, by retired 
 meditations and fervent devotion: so that his learning 
 seemed rather the issues of his mind, and the inspira- 
 tion of the Almighty, which teacheth knowledge. He 
 employed two summers in going to a neighbouring na- 
 tion, in which he made it his bu.siness to converse with 
 those who were of greatest reputation for learning and 
 goodness; where, as he gained their singular esteem and 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 245 
 
 good thoughts, so by useful conversation, and a serious 
 observation of tempers and things, he improved his 
 mind in knowledge. But, indeed, we may look upon 
 his excellent endowments as the reward of the pious 
 dispositions of his soul, and of the good designs he pro- 
 posed to himself in all his studies and endeavours. And 
 God knows, in the undertaking this oihce, there was 
 nothing he had more before his eyes, than the service of 
 Jesus Christ, and the good of his church. He was 
 deeply sensible of the great weight and importance of 
 the holy ministry, and did much bewail the general fail- 
 ing in the exercise of it ; how every man minded his own 
 things, and not the things of Jesus Christ. And there- 
 fore he made this the one great design of all his endeav- 
 ours in that charge, the fitting and training up the youth 
 for that holy function; and this was the great aim both 
 of his public and private care of them. 
 
 He considered that they ought chiefly to mind and fit 
 themselves now, for that which would be their great 
 business when they were entered into the holy function ; 
 and that this would not be so much the managing of con- 
 troversies and debates of religion, as the guiding men's 
 souls to eternity; the rescuing the vicious from their sins 
 and vices, and prevailing upon them, by all prudent 
 methods; and directing the serious to the true practice 
 and exercise of religion, and the most proper means for 
 the practice of goodness, and the avoiding and resisting 
 of temptations, and how they ought to behave them- 
 selves in all circumstances of life. He thought it suffi- 
 cient that they understood the state and importance of 
 those controversies and differences which were the 
 grounds of the divisions of Christendom, for their own 
 instruction, and those who stood in need of it, under 
 their care; but the other he looked upon as their main 
 business. And therefore, accordingly, after he had 
 guarded them against the comm.on artifices of the Ro- 
 man missionaries, in their making proselytes, and clear- 
 ed the most important difficulties in the gospels, he 
 proposed two designs as the subject of all his public exer- 
 cises: the one, de cura pastorali, proposing to consid- 
 21* 
 
246 A SERMON AT THE FtTNERAL 
 
 er the institution and dignity, the weight and difficulty, 
 the necessity and usefulness, of the holy function of the 
 ministry; the nature of that call we ought to have to it, 
 the necessary dispositions that are required to fit us for 
 it, the manner of our own private life and conversation 
 in it, and how we ought to discharge the several exer- 
 cises of it, both public and private. The other, the in- 
 structing them in casuistical divinity; the considering 
 how a man of a strait conscience ought to behave him- 
 self, in whatever state or condition of life he be, and 
 whatever cases and circumstances he fall into; and the 
 branching out this into particulars, and vindicating it 
 from the corruption of the Jesuits, and others. So 
 great and good were the designs he proposed unto him- 
 self. As to matters of controversy, he studied rather to 
 lessen than multiply; and saw that men were apter to 
 be reasoned out of their erroneous persuasions by a good 
 life, than many arguments. He thought it enough to 
 make the youth understand the tnie state of matters in 
 debate, and to consider the most weighty differences: but 
 he was careful to take them off, as much as possible, 
 from the disputing humour, and an itch of wrangling, 
 pro and con about any thing; and many times, by si- 
 lence, answering their impertinent quibbles. There 
 were no debates he was more cautious to meddle with 
 than those about the decrees of God; being sensible 
 how much Christianity had suffered by men's diving 
 into things beyond their reach; secret things belonging 
 to the Lord, and things revealed to us and our children. 
 But he had always a deep sense of the powerful efficacy 
 of God's grace upon our souls; and that all our good 
 was entirely to be ascribed to God, and all our evil to 
 ourselves. He used, onoe a year, (when the youth 
 were most frequent,) by a very serious and affectionate 
 discourse in English, to lay before them the weight and 
 importance of the ministry; how they should demean 
 themselves now, while they were candidates for that 
 holy function; how carefully they ought to avoid all such 
 evil conversation as might give their minds a bad tinc- 
 ture; what course of study they ought to take; inviting 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 247 
 
 them to a private resort unto him, and expressing a 
 most affectionate concern for them. 
 
 It was also his great care, to make his private con- 
 versation vi'ith them as useful as his public. And by 
 this, indeed, he hoped to do most good. They had al- 
 ways free access to him; and his counsels and advices 
 were still suited to the dispositions he perceived in them. 
 He could so modestly and prudently tell them their 
 failings, as to make them perceive and amend them 
 without being offended. He was careful to lend, and 
 direct them to the use of, good books, and, indeed, one 
 of the great ends of his buying so many, was to serve 
 them. Those who were of the most eminent endow- 
 ments, and best inclinations, he stirred up to serious 
 thoughts of the holy ministry. He gave them the most 
 undoubted proofs of his love and care of them, opened 
 his heart freely to them, and learned their inclinations 
 and studies. He directed them to the best means of 
 bettering their hearts, as well as informing their judg- 
 ments; prayer, meditation, and frequent retirements: and 
 made them sensible, that self-will was the root of all our 
 sins; and an entire resignation to the will of God, the 
 very spring of all our duty ; and directed them to frequent 
 and constant acts of self-denial and resignation. And 
 as he was thus careful to his charge, so also of main- 
 taining that entire correspondence with, and due defer- 
 ence and respect that he owed towards his reverend col- 
 league: and that entire and constant love and harmony 
 between them, and that mutual deserved esteem they 
 had for one another, was very singular and very exem- 
 plary. 
 
 Thus, to him to live was Christ. Thus faithfully and 
 prudently did our dear friend manage his charge in serv- 
 ing the interest of his blessed master. And we might 
 have hoped confidently, ere long, that by their joint en- 
 deavors, through the blessing of the Almighty, we should 
 have seen another face on our church. But, amidst all 
 his pious designs and cares, he is called by his great 
 master, in an hour that we thought not of, from his 
 stewardship here, to an higher employment in the other 
 
248 A SERMON AT THE FUKEKAI. 
 
 world. Who is that faithful and wise steward, whom 
 his Lord makes ruler over his household, to give them 
 their portion of meat in due season? Blessed is that ser- 
 vant whom his Lord, when he cometh, shall find so 
 doing; of a truth he will make him ruler over all that 
 he hath. 
 
 Indeed, the end of his life was no less Christ's, than 
 the begimiing and whole course of it. The time of his 
 sickness was as cheerfully spent in suffering tlie will of 
 God, as the former was in doing it. He manifested the 
 greatest meekness and cheerfulness of spirit throughout 
 the whole course of it. He used not the least harsh 
 expression, either to any of those that waited upon him, 
 or concerning the present providence. He expressed 
 a perfect indiflerency as to life and death, and an entire 
 resignation to the will of God, to dispose of him as he 
 thought meet. He found himself never more sensible 
 of the vanity of this world, nor ever felt more ardent 
 acts of love to God, than at that time. He was rapt 
 in admiration of God's goodness to him, and the little 
 returns he said he had made to it; and acknowledged his 
 own great unworthiness, and his humble confidence in 
 the mercy and goodness of God, through the merits 
 of his blessed Saviour. And thus meekly did he pass 
 his sickness, and resign his spirit, without any trouble 
 from the world, or great pain of body, or any anguish 
 of mind: for, mark the perfect man, and behold the up- 
 right; for the end of that man is peace. 
 
 And now, after all, I cannot here omit what service 
 he hath done the world, by permitting it to enjoy those 
 excellent thoughts of his about the life of God in the 
 soul of man. Men may write big volumes, and, as one 
 says, talk much and say nothing; but it is a great matter 
 to talk little, and yet say much. And, sure, whoever 
 considers the importance of the matter of that book, the 
 clear representation of the life and spirit of true reli- 
 gion and its graces, with the great excellency and ad- 
 vantages of it, the proposal of the most effectual means 
 for attaining to it by the grace of God, the piety and 
 seasonableness of the devotions, together with the nat- 
 
or MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 249 
 
 aral and affectionate eloquence of the style, — cannot but 
 be sensible of its great usefulnevss to inspire us with the 
 spirit of true religion, to enlighten our minds with a 
 right sense and knowledge of it, to warm our hearts 
 with suitable affections and breathings after it, and to 
 direct our lives to the practice of it. And, indeed, it 
 seems to have been, in a great measure, the transcript 
 of his own life and spirit. Those divine graces and 
 virtues which he so cleariy describes, shined forth ia 
 his own life and conversation; and he not only under- 
 stood, but felt them. That faith, and love, and charity, 
 that purity and humility, which he so passionately 
 recommends and speaks of, did eminently appear 
 throughout the whole course of his life. 
 
 What a deep sense had he of the traths of our reli- 
 gion ! He suffered them not to float on his understand- 
 ing, to be matter of talk and dispute with others; but 
 he let them sink deep into his spirit, to renew his soul, 
 and direct his life, and was careful to make use of all 
 means that might give him a deeper sense of them. 
 What a deep sense had he of the goodness of God; the 
 wonderful mercy of our redemption by Jesus Christ; 
 the cormption, the degeneracy, and sinfulness of our 
 nature, the excellency of goodness, and the happiness 
 of heaven? And his deep sense of all this, was the 
 spring and root of all his other graces. 
 
 In how manifold instances did appear the ardency of 
 his love to God? He was still breathing with more ar- 
 dent desires after him, and was sorry he could love him 
 no more. He was frequently admiring his wisdom and 
 goodness in the government of the world, and the wise 
 disposal of things. It was not the mean principles of 
 custom, reputation or vain-glory, or a servile fear, that 
 made him carefully avoid all evil in his practices, but 
 the ardency of his love to his heavenly Father; and 
 therefore his life was so uniform and constant to itself, 
 and carefully employed in doing all the good he could, 
 and any thing whereby God might be glorified: and he 
 was still sensible how little he could do worthy of hrs 
 love. His own inclinations were correspondent to the 
 
250 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 resolutions of his pious father, from his childhood; and 
 he had devoted himself for the service of Jesus Christ in 
 the ministry. Those in whom he observed virtuous en- 
 dowments, and the most pious inclinations, he encour- 
 aged, by all means, to the service of God in the holy 
 function. He endeavoured, always, after an absolute 
 resignation of his will to him, looking upon this as the 
 very life of all graces. He was very observing of the 
 various passages of his providence towards him, and 
 very sensible of his goodness in crossing some designs 
 >vhich he afterwards saw would have been inconve- 
 nient for him. He was careful to observe all the steps 
 of Providence; and, when they seemed not to approve 
 of his intentions, how eager soever his desires had been, 
 he was sure not to go one step farther. He was ardent 
 and constant in his devotion towards God. His piety 
 and zeal was very eminent in the public worship, when 
 he was the mouth of the people; his devotion was so 
 raised, and the humble fervour and seriousness of his 
 spirit so visible, as did highly inflame the devotion of 
 the serious: and, when he made one of them, the hu- 
 mility and adoration of his soul did appear in his out- 
 ward behaviour; and he thought it one suitable expres- 
 sion of it, to bow the knee before that Majesty before 
 whom the angels tremble. In the celebration and re- 
 ceiving of the Holy Communion, his soul seemed to 
 be wholly swallowed up in the contemplation of Jesus 
 Christ; and his devotions were the admiration of all that 
 saw him. He had been constant in his private prayers 
 to God from his childhood; and that great secret of de- 
 votion which he recommends in his book, was his fre- 
 quent practice: and he sent up, sometimes, such aspira- 
 tions of love, with such ardent sighs and groanings, 
 and heavings of his spirit, as, perhaps, unclogged his 
 spirit, and made his soul lake its flight so soon from 
 this earthly tabernacle. 
 
 And, sure, a soul so much inflamed with the love of 
 God, could not be wanting in a suitable charity towards 
 men: and, indeed, to this his very natural temper seem- 
 ed to incline him. There was nothing of harshness hx 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL» 251 
 
 the disposition of his spirit ; but it was full of swe-etness 
 and love, whic-h appeared in his very air and counte- 
 nance, and was apt to attract men's hearts at the first 
 sight; and this happy disposition was hallowed and rais- 
 ed, by the love of Ciod, into a holy charity. His soul was 
 as wide as the world, and his love and good will were 
 universal, and every man the object of them. His 
 prayers and good wishes were extended to all men; and 
 all the harm he could do his enemies, (if there were 
 any such universal haters of mankind as to do him bad of- 
 fices,) was, to pray for them the more earnestly to God. 
 He did not confine his charity within a sect or party, 
 but loved goodness wherever he found it; and entertain- 
 ed no harsh thoughts of men, merely upon their differ- 
 ing from him in this or that opinion. He was grieved 
 at the distractions and divisions of the church; and that 
 religion, the bond of love, should be made so mnich the 
 bone of contention. 
 
 What prudent methods would his sincere love and 
 charity to others prompt him to, to undeceive them in 
 their errors? How meekly would he discourse with them 
 about their differences? calmly showing the small im- 
 portance of some things, not worth the contending for, 
 and making appear the bad influence that other things 
 had, as to holiness and a good life; and yielding in. 
 others, again, that were not contrary to the designs of 
 religion; making them sensible of the sincerity of his 
 soul, and his hearty good-will to them. He was far 
 from maintaining a difference upon the account of stout- 
 ness of humour, or keeping up the reputation of a sect 
 or party, being desirous v^e should all be united in the 
 general religion of Jesus Christ, and studying to make 
 friends, and unite the hearts of those who had been divid- 
 ed by names and parties: and thus, if at first he did not 
 prevail over men's prejudices, yet he failed not to gain 
 their hearts; and so, by degrees, made way for his sea- 
 sonable discourses. And O what holy charms and pious 
 arts had he to catch men's souls, and to make them pur- 
 sue their own happiness! A charity which he thought 
 far superior to any that could be done for the body. 
 
252 A SERMON AT TTTE FUiVERAl, 
 
 (though he was eminent in that kind also,) and of 
 which he would speak with the greatest concern and 
 emotion of spirit. How many arts had he to better 
 them, and make them good and happy? His love made 
 htm always as intent upon this, as the love of money will 
 make the covetous man bend all his thoughts and designs 
 to add to his treasure. How would he take advantage, 
 from every thing, to make all things work together for 
 their good? He seemed to be the visible spring that put 
 all good designs in motion, for bettering the state of our 
 church. He was the genius that put life and spirit into 
 the serious studies and pious endeavours of those ho 
 conversed with. How careful was he to propagate, 
 every where, right apprehensions of religion? and what 
 a visible influence had he among us in this matter? 
 What wise methods had he to make his friends sensible 
 of their infu-mities and failings, by speaking to them of 
 his own? and to stir them up to zeal and diligence in 
 piety in good works, and to the use of the most effect- 
 ual means of purifying their souls, by telling them in- 
 stances of the piety and lives of others of his acquaint- 
 ances? He was careful even to make his ordinary con- 
 versation useful for this end, both in giving the example 
 of an unaffected modesty and meekne^^ and dropping in 
 always something that might make then, more in love 
 with religion and goodness. The effects of his love and 
 care of men's souls extended even to those who knew 
 him not; and he obliged always his friends and ac- 
 quaintances, as there was occasion, to employ the inter- 
 est of their friendship and familiarity with others, in 
 persuading them to piety and a good life; and alluring 
 them to Uie reading of good books, and such other 
 means as might serve both to enlighten and purify them: 
 and when he heard of the good fruits of such designs, 
 how much would he be cheered with it? His love and 
 veneration for good men was singular and extraordinary; 
 nothing he more delighted in, than their pious conversa- 
 tion: and he could so well represent their piety and good 
 hie to others, as to make them enamoured whh it too. 
 His love and charity were eminent, also, in the 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 25S 
 
 bounty of his alms, and the relief of the outward neces- 
 sities of others. The first money he gained being at the 
 University, he was careful to lay by a portion of it fot 
 the poor, before he made any use of it for himself; de- 
 voting, as it were, the first fruits unto God. And thig 
 course he observed throughout the rest of his life, laying 
 aside, always, a portion of his income for the relief of 
 the necessitous. This has been the practice of many 
 charitable persons, as the best method to secure a stock 
 for charity; to make them give it with a liberal and wil- 
 ling mind, and seek out fit objects for it. Were thi^ 
 practice more frequently observed, it w^ould undoubted- 
 ly make Christians more bountiful, and their charity and 
 alms more profitable to themselves and others: and a 
 tenth thus cheerfully bestowed, accompanied with the 
 other exercises of a pious life, would, undoubtedly, bring 
 in its hundred-fold of blessings in this world, and in the 
 world to come life everlasting: and, as he was careful 
 thus to provide for charity and alms, so, also, to dispose 
 of it aright. He did not his alms to be seen of men: 
 many were relieved by his bounty, who knew nothing 
 of it. He chose out some fit persons, both in the city 
 and the country, who were acquainted with the necessi- 
 ties and straits of poor, modest, honest house-keep^ 
 ers, to whom he frequently gave money to relieve their 
 wants. And these were sometimes honest persons of 
 different persuasions, who were relieved in their straits 
 they knew not by whom. A noble example of Christian 
 charity! Blessed be God, there are yet some sparks of 
 it in the world. God grant such pious examples may 
 encourage and stir up more to a Christian imitation of 
 them. Nor was his charity so exemplary only in tlic 
 liberal dispensing of portions of his yearly incomes, but, 
 also, in such a prudent disposition of what the wisdom 
 of Providence, and his pious father's care had provided 
 for him in his last will and testament, as might most 
 tend to the public good and advantage; as will in due 
 time appear. ' 
 
 But, among the other expressions of his love, hia 
 friendship, sure, deserves a grateful remembrance.— _ 
 
254 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 Friendship, the flower of society, the ease of our griefs^ 
 the heightener and refiner of our joys, our guide and 
 counsellor, and the life of angels! Many have made 
 fine pictures of it; but the want of true friendship has 
 been generally the observation and complaint of all 
 men. But O! how eminent an example was he, of sin- 
 cere and hearty friendship? This was the darling of his 
 soul, and the delight of his spirit. He did not act it to 
 serve little designs, and private interests; but he was full 
 of cordial love and affection, even like the love of 
 Jonathan. How freely would he open his heart, and 
 unbosom his thoughts, and give faithful counsel to his 
 friend! How dear were his interests to him, and how 
 wisely would he manage them! If there was any 
 worldly thing that was apt to create grief and trouble to 
 him, it was the disasters, or bad success that befell them: 
 and their happy events, would so refresh and cheer 
 his spirits, that, as has-been taken notice of, it had even 
 influence on his sickly body, and would give it some 
 greater measure of health. How readily would he 
 forego his own interests to oblige his friend; and deny 
 himself, as is well known to some, even in those designs 
 and inclinations for which, usually, we have a great con- 
 cern, when we are once engaged in them? So far was 
 he from desiring to engross the love and kindness of his 
 friends, that he made it his business and delight to pro- 
 pagate true friendship, and make them friends to one 
 another: and in this he studied to render it the most use- 
 ful thing in the world, and to make it serve the great 
 ends of piety and religion. Those in whom he obser- 
 ved the spirit of true piety and goodness, or any appear- 
 ance and likelihood of the one having influence on, and 
 bettering the other's life and practice, he endeavoured to 
 bring thent into acquaintance and familiarity ; to endear 
 them to each other, and make their friendship useful for 
 promoting true piety and goodness, both in themselves 
 and others: and this, perhaps, is the most effectual means 
 for recovering something of the ancient Christian spirit 
 in the world. Many methods have been set on foot, un- 
 der pretence of effectuating this design. In the Greek 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 255 
 
 anJ Roman churches, men have formed n-ew societies, 
 instituted new orders, engaged them to peculiar vows, 
 and given them particular religions, as they call them, 
 subordinate to the general religion of Jesus Christ. And 
 among those whom the gross corruptions and tyranny 
 of the Roman Church, both in faith and worship, have 
 thrust from their communion, many have groundlessly 
 separated from one another, and formed distinct sects and 
 parties. But how little either of these have contributed 
 to the promoting of true piety and goodness, experience 
 may make the world sensible. The designs of the for- 
 mer have ended in raising the splendour and revenues 
 each of their peculiar order, in magnifying its rules in 
 opposition to others, in observing their particular insti- 
 tutions, which become matter of mere formality and 
 custom; having a show of humility and will-worship, 
 but do not tend to the purifying of the conscience: and 
 the rest of the people are apt to think they have not such 
 obligations to piety and a good life, as if the care of 
 that were only incumbent on those who had peculiarly 
 assumed to themselves the title of religious. And the 
 zeal and endeavours of the latter are usually spent in 
 keeping up the reputation of their sect and party, in those 
 things especially wherein they differ from others; and 
 this ordinarily makes the studies and designs on all sides 
 to run into this channel. But perhaps, if, instead of such 
 groundless divisions and schisms, and pretence of better- 
 ing the state of religion, more care were had to enter- 
 tafn and propagate a holy and sincere friendship, we 
 might see more blessed fruits of it; whilst, by the friend- 
 ly communications of the serious, their sentiments about 
 religion would be mutually cleared, their minds united, 
 and they instructed in the best means of purifying their 
 hearts, inflamed with one another's zeal, and stirred up 
 to spread the same temper among others, as far as their 
 influences could reach. Such an holy combination (not 
 to observe the vows of any particular order, or to divide 
 from the rest of the world, but) to follow Jesus; to live 
 according to his holy religion, and to persuade others vvho 
 profess it to a sincere conformity thereunto ; O ! how de- 
 
856 A SERMON AT THE rUNERAIi 
 
 sirable were it ! It was thus, metlunks, that the Son of 
 Cod did at first spread his religion in the world: it was 
 thus that the zeal and piety of his first followers did con- 
 tinue it; and it is thus that we must expect to see the life 
 ^nd spirit of it to breathe once again amongst us. 
 
 And now I need not speak much of the purity and 
 cleanness of his heart, and his great unconcernedness 
 for this present world, it having been the general ob- 
 servation of all that knew him. He looked, indeed, 
 always as a stranger and pilgrim in it; and was dead to 
 it in heart and spirit long before his body had taken 
 leave of it. Good God! what a deep sense had he of 
 the meanness and vanity of this world's hurry and de- 
 signs, which he used to say looked to him like the 
 projects and scuffle of children and fools? In his very 
 youth his heart was clear of any inclination to it; and 
 he would even then say to his intimates, that, abstract- 
 ing from the will of God, mere curiosity would make 
 him long for another world, it being a tedious thing to 
 see still the same dull play acted over again here. 
 What little regard had he to the getting or keeping of 
 what the world calls wealth and riches? Never was he 
 seen to have any project that tended that way. He 
 could scarce expend any thoughts about his yearly m- 
 comes, biit remitted still the care of that to others, 
 without calling them to an account. How excellently 
 had he learned his master's lesson. To take no thought 
 what he should eat, what he should drink, or where- 
 withal he should be clothed! Never any thing he was 
 more unconcerned in than this. Whatever was set be- 
 fore him, for the sustentation of his body, he did eat of 
 it, asking no questions for appetite's sake. His thoughts 
 and his spirit v/ere never taken up with those actions 
 of the animal life, even when he was about them; and, 
 while he supported nature, he scarce suffered his taste 
 to have any complacency in them. He thought it 
 strange to see those who protended to a Christian tem- 
 perance, exercise such voluptuous pleasure in their 
 meats, making them the subject of their table-talk, and, 
 as if they owned their bellies for ^heir gods, and pro 
 
OP MR. HENRY SCOUGAl.. 257 
 
 fessing they loved such and such dishes with all their 
 souls.° Alas! that the weakness and infirmity of human 
 nature, by which we are levelled with the beasts, 
 should become the matter of our vanity and voluptuous- 
 ness, instead of that humble and abasing sense we 
 ought to have of ourselves. 
 
 The innocence and purity of his life was observable 
 from his very childhood. He was never tinctured with 
 the least appearances of those impurities which are the 
 reproach of the Christian world. How great an exam- 
 ple was he of Christian continence and celibacy to all 
 that knew him? His very air and conversation showed 
 how much he was mortified to the world in this respect. 
 He had no small abhorrence of all discourses and actions 
 that savoured any thing of impurity ; and could not en- 
 dure the obscene wit of those who were apt to wrest 
 the talk of men's ordinary discourse that way. 
 
 As the pleasures and pomp of the world could never 
 bewitch, so the hardships and troubles of it did never 
 oppress and overcome his spirit; but, in all conditions, 
 his mind seemed always equal and constant to itself. 
 When he lived in the country, the hardships and incon- 
 veniences he then endured, were the common talk of 
 all that knew him: his coarse fare, and hard lodging, 
 and unwonted solitude, the extreme coldness of the 
 season, and the comfortless shelters he had against it, did 
 excite the compassion of others, but never lessened the 
 quiet and contentedness of his spirit; and he suffered 
 them with as much patience as if he had been bred up 
 from his infancy in the Turkish galleys. Any traverses 
 that befell him in the circumstances of his life and de- 
 signs, did never becloud the natural serenity and cheer- 
 fulness of his mind: and he used to say in relation to 
 such discontents, that as he blessed- God he was not 
 naturally melancholy, so he thought an acquired me- 
 lancholy was scandalous in a clergyman. 
 
 And b what a profound humility of soul did shine 
 forth in his life and actions! The admiration of the 
 perfections of the Almighty, in the contemplation of 
 which he was often taken up, had sunk him into tnily 
 mean thoughts of himself. All who had occasion to 
 22* 
 
258 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAI. 
 
 converse with him, were sensible of the lowliness of his 
 mind; and yet he scarce ever obsers^ed those little offi- 
 cious ceremonies or compliments, which we must oft- 
 times make use of to cover or counteract the pride of 
 our spirits, or which it prompts us to traffic with, to 
 purchase the regard and esteem of others. He disdain- 
 ed not to converse with the meanest; and looked upon 
 every man as his fellow and companion. And the ex- 
 emplary regard he had to young children, was equally 
 the expression of his humility and his love. How ready- 
 was he, on all occasions, to converse with them, tak- 
 ing a singular delight in their harmless innocence, and 
 usually, after the example of the great master of love, 
 affectionately embracing and blessing them? And such 
 was the pious meekness of his soul towards others, that 
 if at any time his natural temper raised any little com- 
 motion in his spirit, (which was scarce ever taken notice 
 of after his entering into the holy function,) yet he 
 quickly appeased it, and never suffered the sun to go 
 down upon his wrath. He was never seen to boast of 
 any of his performances, nor yet to use the finer and 
 more subtle fetch of vain-glory, in an elaborate under- 
 valuing of tl>em, that others might commend them. But 
 the expressions of his mean thoughts of himself, were 
 always so natural, and so full of simplicity, that one 
 might easily observe them to arise from the bottom of 
 his soul: and all his actions, and his conversation, made 
 appear the truth and sincerity of them. Though his 
 piety and innocence were eminent in the eyes of all 
 that knew him, yet he had no small sense of his own 
 unworthiness, when he set himself in the light of God's 
 countenance, beheld his purity, and thought on his infi- 
 nite goodness and mercy to him in Jesus Christ, (about 
 which his thoughts were frequently taken up.) O how 
 deeply was he humbled under the sense of his sinfulness 
 and ingratitude, and the little returns he had made to 
 such undeserved goodness! When we are in a total 
 darkness, we cannot discern one thing from another; 
 and an ordinary light will discover to us the grosser lin- 
 eaments, and more remarkable differences of things: 
 but some beams darted in from the sun will show ua 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOTJGXL. 259 
 
 much impurity and foulness, where we thought all to 
 have been pure and clean. And O with what seri- 
 ousness and simplicity did this enlightened soul express 
 the sense he had of the sinfulness of his nature, a-nd the 
 worthlessness of his person! Almost the very last 
 wends he spoke were to this purpose, uttered with an 
 extraordinary devotion of spirit. After having witness- 
 ed his resignation to the will of God, and his humble 
 hopes in his mercy and goodness: Bnt, says he, when 
 you have the charity to remember me in your prayers, 
 do not think me a better man than I am; but look upon 
 me as indeed 1 am, a sinner. A most miserable sinner! 
 
 if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the 
 wicked and ungodly appear! 
 
 But I forbear to mention any farther the graces and 
 virtues which shined forth in the life and spirit of our 
 friend. The experience which many of you have had 
 of them in his conversation, will furnish you with a 
 better sense of them than all I can say. As to the 
 particular instances I have given, there are more than 
 one or two here present who can bear witness to the 
 tmth of them: and I hope there are none here that will 
 think me guilty of so much impudence, as to utter 
 falsehoods of him in a place where he was so well 
 known, and where there are so many so well acquaint- 
 ed with most of the important and private passages of 
 his life. No: I know you are sensible how far short all 
 
 1 have said comes of his true worth. He had need be 
 endued with the same spirit, that would speak aright of 
 him; and true goodness cannot be expressed, but feh. 
 
 Give me leave only to join in with your meditations, 
 and to think with you on thp lessons we may learn 
 from the present dispensation, according to our different 
 relations and circumstances. 
 
 And now, good people, let us consider his example, 
 and our early loss of him. O that we would once 
 learn to be wise, and to live like Christians! You are 
 all sensible what an eminent example he hath given us; 
 and, alas! what hinders that we should not be followers 
 of him, even as he also was of Christ? How may we 
 gee in him all our little pretences and prejudices against 
 
260 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAI. 
 
 piety and goodness dashed and confounded? Where ig 
 the man that will say, he tastes as much solid pleasure 
 in his jollity and cups ; that his lusts and vices create in 
 him as great a serenity of mind, afford him as much 
 comfort, dispose him to as much patience and content- 
 edness in any condition, as were always seen to be the 
 reward and blessing of the innocence and goodness of 
 his life? When did ever such universal esteem and 
 love wait upon a bad man to his grave, as we see hath 
 accompanied the piety and virtue of one who was am- 
 bitious of nothing less than the glory of men; while yet 
 all mouths are opened in his praise, every man speaks 
 good of him, and persons of all sects and persuasions 
 amongst us, lament his loss, and bedew his hearse with 
 tears? O how peaceful and resigned do we see the 
 death of the righteous! and how unlike must ours be 
 to it, if we will not live their life! What an uniform- 
 ity is there in the virtue and innocence of that life that 
 springs from true goodness, and the love of God? And 
 O how void must we be of it, how palpable our hy- 
 pocrisy, if our actions contradict one the other; if we 
 bless God, and yet curse and do evil to our neighbour; 
 if we confess and beg pardon for our sins, and yet 
 breathe and meditate revenge against others; and if we 
 have not a respect to all his commandments! If we 
 must needs look upon the saints and holy men of God, 
 in old time, as if they had been creatures of another 
 nature, and consider their example as disproportioned 
 to our condition; yet here we have seen one conversing 
 amongst us, like unto ourselves, subject to the same 
 passions, temptations, and infirmities, and yet conquer- 
 ing all these, through Christ that strengthened him: and 
 why should we turn off all serious thoughts to old age, 
 as if we were then only fit for God, when we were fit 
 for nothing else! May not tlie piety and innocence of 
 his youth, shame us into a better mind, and more 
 Christian lives? For honourable age is not that which 
 standeth in length of time, nor that is measured by 
 length of years. But wir^dom is the gray hair unto 
 men, and an unspotted life is old age. Thus the right- 
 eous that is dead, shall condemn the ungodly which are 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOTTGAL. 261 
 
 living: and youth that is soon perfected, the many years 
 and old age of the unrighteous. 
 
 And O what shall we say of that divine Provi- 
 dence, which has taken this light from among us? The 
 ways of the Lord are wonderful, and liis judgments are 
 made a great deep. One who was so great an exam- 
 ple of piety, an ornament to his country and the 
 church, is quickly removed from us in his youth; and 
 many who are a reproach to religion, the scandal of 
 the world, and the shame of human nature, are left to 
 old age; whether to fill up the measure of their sins, or 
 to lead them to repentance, God knows. He whom 
 God had blessed with so much light to instruct us, and 
 virtue and zeal to direct us; who was so helpful to en- 
 lighten us by his sermons and discourses, and to edify 
 us by his example, is suddenly snatched away from us. 
 O that we may hear the rod, and him who hath ap- 
 pointed it! When we make no use of God's talents, 
 (such are the instructions, and counsel, and example of 
 good men,) he takes them from us. Alas! what an ill 
 account can we render of this? Could we almost im- 
 agine sermons more serious, affectionate, and heavenly; 
 and yet wherein have we been prevailed with to better 
 our lives, to forego one vice we were otherwise inclined 
 to, or to do that good we were averse to? All the use 
 we make of his example is, to seem to approve and 
 commend it; but wherein do we imitate it? Do we 
 think that other helps would do better, tlmt other means 
 and circumstances would have more influence on our 
 lives? Alas! my brethren, they that will not hear Mo- 
 ses and the prophets, neither would they be persuaded 
 though one should rise from the dead. But we are 
 usuafly most sensible of the worth of worldly blessings; 
 and most thankful for them, when God takes them 
 fi-om us: and O that our appetite may be thus at least 
 quickened for spiritual blessings! O that our present 
 loss may have this influence upon us, that we may be 
 truly sensible of God's goodness in bestowing this bles- 
 sing so long upon us; that we may adore his providence 
 in depriving us of it; and that the impressions he hath 
 left on our minds of his life and spirit, and the seed of. 
 
2(52 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL. 
 
 the gospel he hath sown in our hearts, may, by God's 
 grace, yet bring forth fruit in us. Finally, my breth- 
 ren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are 
 honest, whatsoever things are just, &c. Those things 
 which ye have both learned and received, and heard 
 and seen in him, do; and the God of peace shall be 
 with you. 
 
 And you, my friends, who were his more peculiar 
 care, his children, of whom he travailed in birth till 
 Christ should be formed in you, whom he was so solic- 
 itous to have fitted for the service of Jesus, and the care 
 of souls; alas! who can blame your tears, or withhold 
 your grief? My father, my father, the chariot of Isra- 
 el, and the horsemen thereof. It is not possible forme 
 to express the blessing you had in him: I know your 
 own hearts are sensible of it, beyond all I can say. O 
 what a useful guide and director was "he! How dear 
 w^ere you unto him! How unaffectedly humble and 
 ingenuous in his conversation! How wise and pious 
 were his instructions and advices! How much were his 
 thoughts taken up about you, making them all sene for 
 his great design of fitting you for the holy function ! And 
 how great and unspeakable is your loss! O let us 
 adore, and submit to the divine providence! Search 
 and try your hearts, and consider your ways, and reck- 
 on what finiit you have brought forth worthy of such 
 a blessing; and whether you have not deserved the re- 
 moval of that light, while you have been so little care- 
 ful to be enlightened by his instructions, or warmed by 
 his piety and zeal. God withdraws from us such use- 
 ful blessings, to stir us up to shake off our sloth, and a 
 more ardent care and endeavour for the enlightening of 
 our minds, and the purifying of our hearts, for which 
 his life and spirit would have been so useful to us. If 
 you would let the world see what esteem you had for 
 him, if you would not be guilty of the abuse and mis- 
 improvement of one of the greatest blessings you ever 
 had, remember his instructions, follow his advices, and 
 study to be what of all the world he was most desir- 
 ous you should be: make it appear, that his labour is 
 jsot in vain. You have known his doctrine, manner of 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL,. 263 
 
 life, purpose, faith, long-sufferiug, charity, and patience. 
 You may remember how he behaved himself among 
 you; what, and how he instructed you. You know 
 how desirous he was, both to have you good men, and 
 well fitted for the holy ministry. Consider how, above 
 all things, he directed you to the pmifying of your 
 hearts, and the exercises of true repentance. Think 
 what gravity he required in your behaviour, what mod- 
 esty and humility hi your words and conversation, an- 
 swerable te yeur designing such employment; what 
 abstraction from unsuitable business or company. Call 
 to mind the care he had of directing your studies aright; 
 how he diverted you from such learning as was not apt 
 to give you a sense of piety and religion; took you off 
 from an itching curiosity about questions and strifes of 
 words, which minister to vanity and contention; per- 
 suaded you to cleanness of heart, truly pious designs, 
 and frequent devotion, as the best dispositions and helps 
 for knowledge: and directed you to such books and 
 studies, as might serve to give you a right and deep 
 sense of Christianity, and of the importance and duties 
 of the holy function. Remember how much he be- 
 wailed the unseemly haste, and unfit methods and arts 
 which some used, to thi-ust themselves into the holy 
 ministry; and admired the difl^erent conduct of the holy 
 men in old times, who, sensible of its great weight, 
 and apprehensive of their own insufficiency, were al- 
 \ most always forced to it by the people, and the govern- 
 ors of the church. Consider, I beseech you, of what 
 importance he thought it, both for your own souls, and 
 those which might be your charge, that you should use 
 all prudent means sincerely to examine yourselves be- 
 fore-hand, of your fitness both in heart and spirit for 
 that employment, and the purity of your intentions, 
 designmg truly the service of Jesus Christ, and the 
 good of men's souls, and not the sordid ends of vanity, 
 worldly mindedness, or ambition. And O that these 
 things may sink into your hearts! and that you may 
 continue in the things we learned of him, and have 
 been assured of; knowing of whom you have learned- 
 them! 
 
264 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 And you, whom Providence bath mtrusted with thd 
 care and education of the youth, pardon me also to call 
 to mind the example of our dear friend, while he rrsGde 
 one of your society. You know you have charge of the 
 hopes of the next generation ; and that the welfare both 
 of the church and state, and their own good and happi- 
 ness, doth very much depend upon the right forming of 
 their minds and tempers in their younger years; and that 
 as the making this your great design in that employment, 
 doth most tend to promote it, so you can never more 
 serve your own interests than in it. All callings have 
 their several temptations; and divisions, or sloth, or intei*"* 
 est, or ignorance, may be the bane of this. The ill man- 
 agement of it has a more universally bad influence on 
 the world, than that of most other employments, as the 
 happy fruits of the faithful discharge of it doth as far 
 transcend many others. We are all made for eternity; 
 and we cannot go about any thing aright, if our eye be 
 not fixed upon its end, and if all subordinate ends have 
 not a respect to the great end of our being. The holy 
 calling has this for its immediate end and design; and^ 
 next to it, yours has the nearest relation to it. We are 
 set apart to declare the light which Jesus Christ has re- 
 vealed from heaven, by which he brought life and im- 
 mortality to light through the Gospel; and you, to clear 
 up the remains of the light of nature that is within us; 
 and he that dwells in light inaccessible, is the fountain 
 and author of both. We ought to be careful, that men 
 be not misled by false lights, nor mistake darkness for 
 light, and to persuade them to live by the light of Jesus 
 Christ; and you are to beware, that we do not take the 
 prejudices of childhood, custom, and education, our 
 own or other men's foolish fancies, for clear notions 
 and lights of our understanding. As the bad use of our 
 reason, and the confusion of the light of nature, has 
 made men pervert or disbelieve the light of Jesus 
 Christ; so the sincere and right use of it doth strangely 
 dispose us to receive that light, to admire and love it, 
 and to lead our lives accordingly. True philosophy 
 leads us to acknowledge and adore the author of our be- 
 ing; to admire his infinite perfections, from the vastness^ 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 265 
 
 order, and usefulness of his works; to be sensible of his 
 absolute disposal of all things, and our entire dependence 
 upon him for life, thought, and motion. It shows us 
 the spiritual nature of our immortal souls, and the mean- 
 ness and vanity of sensual pleasures. It discovers to us 
 the shortness of our reason, and the little ground we have 
 for vanity, either for our knowledge, who know so few 
 and so little of his worlcs, or for what we are or can do, 
 who owe all to him, and bear so mean a proportion to the 
 universe of bodies and spirits. It lets us see, that our 
 only happiness were to have our wills united to his; and 
 shows us, that we should love him above all, and have 
 an universal love for all men; and that all our felicity 
 consists in studying thus heartily the common good of 
 the world. It gives occasion to make us sensible of the 
 strange corruption of our hearts, and how far we are 
 from being what we should be, and how unable we are 
 to give ourselves those dispositions of love, and fear, 
 and reverence, that we owe our Maker. And thus it 
 leads us to the Redeemer of mankind, and makes appear 
 how much need we have of his grace and tmth. I 
 doubt not but these, and such-like considerations, do 
 engage you to make this your great view and design, 
 to dispose the youth, both by your instructions and ex- 
 ample, to a right sense of religion, and suitable appre- 
 hensions of the Maker of the world, and the Re- 
 deemer of mankind; without which view, philosophy 
 is altogether vain and impertinent. And you yourselves 
 know how exemplary your friend was in making it 
 usefvd for this end. His pious and Christian Ethics, 
 his peaceable and devout life, his private instruction 
 and training up of the youth, in order to this design, 
 will be lasting remembrances of it to many ages. 
 
 And now, my brethren, what shall we say, or whither 
 shall we turn our thoughts? Alas! our loss is great and 
 unspeakable. How much do we stand in need of such 
 lights and examples! Alas! how weighty isiour employ- 
 ment! What prudence and piety does it call for! How 
 dangerous is the neglect, or ill management of it ! What 
 need have we of such a monitor to shake off our sloth, 
 end awe, and instruct us by his example ! '< Parishes ar« 
 23 
 
266 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAL 
 
 holy ships," as one says, "whose curates are the pilots, 
 and eternity the port they must guide them to. If it need 
 so much art and so long experience to sail upon the seas, 
 what knowledge and prudence does it call for, to pass 
 over happily the sea of this world, where tempests 
 never cease? Alas! who can think, without sensible 
 grief and bitter tears, that the helm of these vessels, 
 w4iich contain such precious wares as cost no less than 
 the blood of God, should be committed, ordinarily, to 
 men of so little experience ; that they are not only igno- 
 rant of the tempests, shelves, and banks of tliis terrible 
 sea, but even have not the strength and industry to 
 guide their own little vessel back to the road? And 
 those inestimable riches are frequently intrusted to 
 those whom they wall not trust with a purse of fifteen or 
 twenty pieces. But, even when the pilots are able, who 
 would not at last lose their courage to see themselves 
 sailmg amidst so many hazards, and wdth so little suc- 
 cess? How many stupid ones fall out of the vessel! 
 how many imprudent ones get out to sail apart in shal- 
 lops! how many desperate ones throw themselves over, 
 and abandon themselves to the fury of the waves? 
 What disquiets, what griefs, and what trouble for the 
 poor pilot? He must run on all sides, to reach out his 
 hand to those that fall. He must exhaust his lungs, in 
 trying to call those wlio flee away. He must even fre- 
 quently throw himself into the sea, to recover those 
 whom the waves swallow up. If he watch not, the fall 
 of the first will be imputed to him. If he be silent, he 
 will answer for the flight of the second. If he fear la- 
 bour and travail, he will be accused of the other's des- 
 pair. If, in a word, he want vigilance, strength, and 
 courage, he will be guilty of as many bloodsheds as he 
 lets souls perish." This is a laint image of our condi- 
 tion. How may these thoughts fill us with astonish- 
 ment and fear? What a risk do we run, while we are 
 engaged in such a dangerous employment? What piety 
 and prudence, vigilance and courage, does it call for? 
 How strangely does our sloth and negligence infect one 
 another, and lull us into carelessness, till tixe wave? 
 Bwallow us up? What need have we of some to call 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 267 
 
 upon us, to mind us of our danger, to make us ashamed 
 of our i* oth, and to stir us up by their example? And what 
 a blessing was our friend to us in this respect? how did 
 he inspire life and spirit in all good designs amongst us, 
 and stir us up to our duty, by his public and private care, 
 as far as his influences could reach, and by his exam- 
 ple? How well did he answer the character of a good 
 man, and a good clergyman? His innocency was eminent 
 and observable from his childhood, so that he had a good 
 report from them that were without. He had been 
 trained up from a child in the Holy Scriptures; and such 
 instructions as might inspire him with the right knowl- 
 edge of them, and a deep sense of religion; and which 
 might make him wise unto salvation. As he had been 
 devoted to the holy calling from his infancy, so he was 
 called to it by the authority and hearty approbation of 
 those who are empowered by God, having the inward 
 testimony of a good conscience, and of the purity of 
 his intentions; far from any design of vain-glory or inte- 
 rest. His mind was stored with all sorts of know^ledge, 
 \v»ithout vanity or contention: his piety was eminent 
 and singular, always accompanied with an unaffected 
 humility: his spirit and disposition were ever peaceable: 
 his love to God, and men's souls, made him study the 
 divine art of becoming all things to all men, that he might 
 save some. None was ever more mortified to covet- 
 ousness or filthy lucre. His charity in almsgivings were 
 exemplary, in all things showing himself a pattern of 
 good works. In his doctrine, he showed uncorrupted- 
 ness, gravity, and sincerity, sound words that could not 
 be condemned. His discourse was always modest, and 
 his conversation useful. He watched all occasions of 
 doing good to men's souls, and would not let them slip 
 Never man was more apt to teach, being gentle to all 
 men. Those that opposed themselves to the truth, or 
 were overtaken in a fault, he endeavoured to instruct and 
 restore in the spirit of meekness, avoiding foolish ques- 
 tions, and strifes of w^ords. And, by walking in all 
 good conscience before God and man, he hath, among 
 other things, given a singular instance of gaining the love 
 ^nd esteem of all, and of preserving his person and his 
 
268 A SERMON- AT THE FtTNERAt 
 
 office from that contempt which they say is so generally 
 thrown upon our order: so that even scarce any man des- 
 pised his youth. How may we behold in his life, as in 
 a glass, the virtues and qualities of a true minister of 
 Jesus Christ? What a living instruction was it to us, 
 whereby we might observe our own defects,and be stirred 
 up to our duty? Who can fathom the mysteries of Prov- 
 idence, or tell what judgments may threaten the church 
 by the removal of such a burning and shining light? The 
 righteous man perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart; 
 merciful men are taken away, none considering that it 
 is from the evil to come. O that his life and example 
 may be yet active among us; that we may be actuated 
 by the same spirit, not to mind our own things, but the 
 things of Jesus Christ; that we may have pity on our- 
 selves and this miserable church; that the sense of our 
 lamentable distractions, and the universal corruption of 
 men's lives, may sink deep into our hearts! O that 
 the love of Jesus, and the care of souls, may inspire our 
 hearts, and direct our studies, and enliven our sermons, 
 and increase our vigilance, and guide om* lives! Save 
 us, Lord, or else we perish! 
 
 And now, my friends, what words or grief can ex- 
 press our loss? you whom nature or choice had more 
 peculiarly endeared to him; 5'ou who were honoured 
 with his friendship, and blessed with his conversation; 
 who were guided by his counsel, and comforted by his 
 presence; who was the relish of your joys, and the ease 
 of your griefs: I am distressed for thee, my brother; very 
 pleasant hast thou been unto me. Thy love unto me 
 was wonderful, passing the love of women. But, alas! 
 why do we mourn our private loss, when the loss is so 
 public and universal,and every man concerned in it; while 
 it is not the removal of our candle only, but of a light 
 of the world, and a public good? Every man who knew 
 him, or heard of him, claims a share in our grief, and 
 bewail their particular loss in him. The affectionate 
 father remembers a most dutiful and comfortable son; 
 relations cry out for the loss of their dearest and most 
 useful kinsman; friends bewail their being torn from a 
 friend mdeed; ihe learned bemoan the want of a great 
 
or MK. HENRY gCOITGAI-. 209 
 
 owner and promoter of true knowledge; the youth la- 
 ment their being deprived of a most pious, wise, affec- 
 tionate, and useful guide; the poor groan for the loss 
 of a father; the devout find the want of a director and 
 pattern; the church feels herself deprived of one of her 
 purest lights: the clergy are sensible he was to them an 
 ensample and an honour; the people acknowledge they 
 had a blessing of him in his life and doctrine; the whole 
 nation may feel the want of a great promoter of true lo) - 
 alty, and all Christian virtues and graces, by his exam- 
 ple and instractions, and are sersible what an honour 
 he was to them: yea, the several sects among us lament 
 his loss, and seem to confess, that a few like him would 
 soon heal our schisms; and that his pious life, and meek 
 instructions, if any thing, would soon have recovered 
 them from their errors. O how is our loss swallowed 
 up in the public! My father, my father, the chariots 
 of Israel, and the horsemen thereof. 
 
 But whither would our passions drive us? Shall we 
 forget the governour of the 'vorld, and who is the Lord 
 of life and death? We -d'rn not look on his removal 
 from us as a fatal necessi^/, or a blind stroke of chance 
 and fortune; as the sport of the humours and parts that 
 composed his body. Nc, no. The author of the uni- 
 verse employs still that power, aud wisdom, and good- 
 ness, in ruling the world, that he did in making it. In 
 him we live and move, and have our being. His hand 
 is in every thing that befalls us; all that strikes our sen- 
 ses, which we see, or hear, or know, or feel within our- 
 selves, and impute to other instruments, are really the 
 effects of his power, and are ordered by him for great 
 and wise ends. A hair of our head does not fall to the 
 ground without his leave. This that has now befallen 
 us, is an holy indispensable effect of a decree of the 
 providence of God, to be executed in its due time. He 
 had not sent him into this world for a lasting temporal 
 comfort unto us, but for the great and wise ends of his 
 own glory, and of the world that is to come. Let us 
 not look upon this accident in itself, but in God, and in 
 his will. Let us, in humble silence, adore the unsearch- 
 able depth of his secrets; acknowledge the holiness of 
 . _ 22^ : '. 
 
270 A SERMON AT THE FUNERAIi 
 
 his decrees; bless the conduct of his providence, and, 
 (according to that singular example which we have seen 
 on this occasion in one of the greatest fatherly affections 
 heightened by all kinds 'of endearments,) uniting our 
 wills to the will of God, and sacrificing our natural 
 passions unto it, let us walk with him, in him, and 
 for him, and what he hath willed in us, and for us, to 
 all eternity. 
 
 And truly, if we look upon our dear friend, and con- 
 sider what he hath been and what he now is, and shall 
 be to all eternity, it will make us yet the more sensible 
 how much we ought to resign ourselves to, and glorify 
 the will of our heavenly Father in his wise disposal of 
 , him. The life of a Christian is a continual sacrifice to 
 God; crucifying our earthly affections, mortifying our 
 sinful passions, and subduing our w^ills to his; and this 
 sacrifice is finished and perfected by death: and the 
 lives of men, and the accidents that befall them, ought to 
 affect our spirits, according as they break off or advance 
 in sacrificing their hearts and lives to God. How com- 
 fortable has his life been to us, and to all good men, in 
 this respect. From the time he was devoted and given 
 unto Jesus Christ in his baptism, how has he been fit- 
 ted by the grace of the Holy Spirit, to offer up his life 
 a continual sacrifice to God; restraining, constantly, the 
 con-uption of his nature from breaking out into any 
 great impurity or crime, subduing every day his pas- 
 sions, purifying his afiections, studying to do every thing 
 in and for God, and endeavouring a continual resigna- 
 tion of his w^ill to him? And in this we must not re- 
 gret his few years, and the shortness of his days; for 
 with God one day is as a thousand years, and a thou- 
 sand years as one day. Length of life is not to be mea- 
 sured by many revolutions of the heavens, but by the 
 progress we have made in the great design for which 
 we are sent into the world: and in this respect he, be- 
 ing sanctified in a little time, hath fulfilled a long time; 
 so that he hath truly lived much in a few years, and 
 died an old man in eight and twenty. He hath now 
 finished the work that God hath given him to do: he 
 hath accomplished the thing for which he was sent iu- 
 
OF MR. HENRY SCOUGAL. 271 
 
 to the world: by death he hath now perfected the sac- 
 rifice of himself, and the will of God is fulfilled in him. 
 Whatever horror there may be in death to the natural 
 man, however terrible it is to the wicked and impeni- 
 tent, yet to the godly, to all who consider it in Jesus 
 Christ, it is full of joy and comfort. O death, where 
 is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The 
 sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. 
 But thanks be to God, who hath given us the victory 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord. He hath made the king 
 of terrors to become the object of the most ardent de- 
 sires and wishes of his own ; for, if to us to live be 
 Christ, sure. 
 
 To die is gain. I will not now launch out into this 
 boundless ocean, to speak of the unspeakable happiness 
 of the other world, and of the great advantages of the 
 death of those whose life is Christ's. But O how may 
 this, after the example of the ancient Christians, fill us 
 with joy and comfort, in the pious and well-grounded 
 hopes of the happiness of our dear friend! Well may 
 we think we hear him say. Why do you mourn for me? 
 Weep not for me, but weep for yourselves; for to me to 
 die is gain. We live still in a world of sin and misery, 
 of darkness and folly: we see nothing here but matter of 
 tears and grief; we are among a crowd of people who 
 are marching on to eternal misery, who know not but 
 the next step may bring them to their journey's end; 
 and yet never think of any thing, but fillmg their bellies, 
 satisfying their lusts, or worrying one another by the 
 way. We have great difficulty to find the strait path 
 to eternal life; and when we know it, and are entered 
 into it, the seeming pleasure of the by-paths, the tempt- 
 ations and example of the throng about us, a rooted 
 corruption within us, and a subtle enemy that watches 
 us, are ready at every step to betray us, and to turn us 
 aside into the paths that lead to destraction: and what 
 a blessing is it to be free of all these? 
 
 How happy is our friend, who enjoys, now, an ab- 
 solute freedom from all the pains, and griefs, and troubles 
 of this miserable world; who is out of the reach of 
 all those temptations and snares; whose soul is unclogged 
 
272 A SERMON- AT THE FriJCERAL, kc. 
 
 from an earthly body, freed from its guilt, and cleansed 
 from its corruptions by the blood of Jesus, and put be- 
 yond the possibility of ever sinning or offending against its 
 Maker, which now only begins to live, (the being born 
 into this world being rather a death, and dying the be- 
 ginning to live for ever;) being now all light, and life, 
 and love, and motion, seeing and enjoying God; havin<' 
 its will wholly swallowed up in his; being, as it were, 
 lost in him, and in the rapturous bliss of his love; joining 
 in pure and holy friendship with angels and archangels, 
 and the spirits of just men made perfect, in adoring and 
 admiring our Maker and Redeemer, being enlarged in 
 holy charity and ardent prayers for us poor mortals here 
 below, and rejoicing over one sinner that repenteth; 
 waiting for the redemption of the body, when this mor- 
 tal shall put on immortality, and what is here sown in 
 corruption and a natural body, shall be raised in incor- 
 ruption and spiritual; and death shall be swallowed up in 
 victory, when they shall happily be reunited, and live in 
 joy and bliss to all eternity? Blessed are the dead that 
 die in the Lord; they rest from their labours, and their 
 works do follow them. They that be wise shall shine 
 as the brightness of the firmament: and they that turn 
 many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever. 
 Who can speak aright of that happiness which eye 
 hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man con- 
 ceived? O let us not bewail the absence of our friend 
 with fmitless sighs or tears ; nor sorrow as they that have 
 no hope: but let us always endeavour, after his exan)- 
 ple, so to live to Christ in this world, that our death 
 may be the same gain and advantage to us; that with 
 him, and all the blessed spirits, we may live in eternal 
 friendship and love with the Father, the Son, and the 
 Holy Ghost, God over all blessed for evermore. Amen,