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PRACTICAL 
 
 DISCOURSES; 
 
 CHIEFLY ON THE 
 
 Chriftian Covenant, 
 
 ITS 
 
 SANCTION S, 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER SUBJECTS, 
 
 ESSENTIALTO 
 
 Reformation of Manners, 
 
 
 r" -n - 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 Js the Body without the Spirit is deady fo Faith without Works 
 is dead aljo, James ii. 26. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for A. Millar, in the Strand', and J, and J. Rivington* 
 in St. Paul's Church-yard, 
 
 M.DCC.LIV. 
 
f iM ] 
 
 THE 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Addreffed to the 
 
 CITIZENS 
 
 O F 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 Centlemeriy 
 
 THE Author of the following Difcourfes, 
 having lived for fome time among you, and 
 pleached many of them in your Churches, humbly 
 begs leave to addrefs them to you. To this he is 
 encouraged, not only by the attention and approba* 
 tion, far exceeding his hopes, with which they 
 were heard ; but more efpecially by the repeated 
 requeft of fome very fenfible and worthy members 
 of your body, who prefled him for the publication 
 of them. Thefe Gentlemen were, on various ac- 
 counts, of too much confequence with the Author, 
 not to be gratified. Whether this requeft ftiall con- 
 tribute to his honour, at the expence of theirs who 
 made it, is now, with all imaginable refpect, fub- 
 mitted to your judgment at large, and to that of every 
 
 A % - EngUpi 
 
IV "Tbe V R K F A C E. 
 
 'Englijh reader. However this may be, he will think 
 himfelf a very happy man, if, after thus laying his 
 performances before you, your complacency in ac- 
 cepting {hall bear any proportion to the pleafurc he 
 felt in prefenting them toyou. Heftilldoth, and 
 ever w^ill, retain a grateful fenfe of the many friendr 
 Ihips, wherewith he was honoured, when in Lon- 
 don. He there met with perfons of excellent un- 
 derftandings, improved by the fuccefsful ftudy of 
 men and things ; and of hearts, cultivated to a fuit- 
 able benevolence by that intercourfe of minds, which 
 waits infeparably on an exteniive commerce in af- 
 fairs. Whether in any other fchool more integrity 
 and humanity may be learned, than in this, the ob- 
 fervations he made, during his abode in your city, 
 gave him fufficient reafon to doubt. Here virtue, 
 inculcated, not by rules, but examples ; not in words, 
 but a6lions ; is pracftically imbibed ; and (hews itfelf 
 accordingly, not in the words, but actions, of the 
 obferver. Here the Author faw, what would 
 appear too paradoxical to be believed in fome other 
 
 places He faw the wealthy devout, and the man 
 
 who h^d a great fortune, in effect, his All, expo fed 
 to the winds and waves, unbending himfelf in 
 gn evening, with a Turprifing greatnefs of foul, to 
 all the fweets of a chearful or religious converfation ; 
 nay, he faw him maintain his part in this converfa- 
 tion with fuch a mixture of wit, found fenfe, gaiety, 
 and goodnefs, as did honour not only to the folid, 
 but to the ornamental, part of that education, which 
 may be had in the fchool of bufinefs. A flranger, 
 feeing him in this attitude, would not imagine, he 
 had been bred, from his childhood, to trade, or had, 
 at this inftant, a fingle boat on fea. Neither would 
 he imagine, if he knew his application to bufinefs 
 
 5 ' ^Q 
 
[The F R E F A C E. V 
 
 fo very afliduous,- or his oeconomy fo exadlly 
 frugal, that he could, on proper oceafions, find ia 
 his heart to live with the liberality of a prince ; and, 
 to proper objeds, give away with the charity of a 
 iaint. 
 
 It was in Lo?idof2, and among you, Gentlemen, 
 that the Author of thefe difcourfes formed an idea of 
 private and domeftic heroifm, which he makes no 
 Icruple to prefer to that of politicians and conquer- 
 ors. Me therefore leaves their unjuftifiable arts, and 
 bloody laurels, to be made the objeds of vulgar 
 admiration by the poets j and having paiTed by 
 both the court and camp, and found the truly great 
 man in a counting-houfe or fhop, dedicates his la- 
 bours, with inexprelTible afFediion and efteem, to 
 you. Accept, Gentlemen, the tenders of his grati- 
 tude J and what, in regard to its own defedts, you 
 cannot approve of, be pleafed, with your wonted 
 goodnefs, to indulge, in regard to a writer earneft- 
 ly ftudious to demonftrate that refpe6t towards you, 
 and that zeal for the caufe of virtue, which every 
 man who knows both, muft acknowlege to be juftly 
 due. 
 
 That, in thus addrefTing you, he fpeaks not as a 
 flatterer, or as a man of felhfh defigns, his fpeaking 
 to a community, and not a particular perfon, may 
 ferve to (hew. But, if this is not fufficient, the fol- 
 lowing difcourfes will fully prove it j for in them 
 he confiders the true religion as the only cure for 
 the vices of mankind ; and therefore thinks it not 
 fufficient to demonftrate its truths, if in every dif- 
 courfe they are not pointed in their full vigour, and 
 with the colledted force of all the talents God hath 
 beftowed on the preacher, againft the horrible fins 
 of an abandoned age, howfoever backed by num- 
 
 A 3 bers, 
 
vi "fhe PREFACE. 
 
 bers, howfoever countenanced by cuftom, howfo- 
 cver dignified by ftation, or privileged by title and 
 power. He little regards what they fay, who tell 
 him, it is a folly to exped any thing elfe from this, 
 method, but the contempt, perhaps ruin, of him 
 who takes it. Be it fo. However, the fervant of 
 God ought to do his duty, and leave the reft to his 
 Mafter. That this is his duty, the enormous in- 
 creafe of wickednefs, on the one fide, and the com- 
 mands of God, on the other, who, in times like 
 thefe, bids us cry aloud, and /pare not, have made 
 it fufficiently evident. And that his ruin, as the 
 worldly-minded call it, will prove his happinefs 
 and glory in the end, is alfo as certain as the pr©- 
 mifcs of God can make it. If he is not as much 
 an infidel, as too many of thofe he ought to re^ 
 prove, on thefe he will rely, and by thofe he will 
 be guided ; and will be in little pain about the con- 
 fequences. 
 
 He hopes his difcourfes will be read, becaufe 
 they are new and fpirited. And if they are favour- 
 ed with a perufal, it is poflTible they may touch the 
 reader in fome yet feeling quarter of his heart, to 
 which others, better executed in the main, have 
 been too general, or too tender, to penetrate. He 
 knows, there is a large clafs of men, as well fatif- 
 fied with their own pradices, tho' vicious, as with 
 their principles, tho' irreligious ; who therefore are 
 determined to keep every thing at a diftance, which 
 might poflibly leilen this fatisfadion. But if any 
 of thefe fliall happen to read what I am now 
 writing, let him confider a little, that irreligion 
 may be folly, and vice mifery, for aught he caa 
 judge, who will coniult with nothing but his paf- 
 
 lions 
 
The PREFACE. vxi 
 
 fions about the one, and with his prejudices only 
 about the other. 
 
 How can he who will not try, forefee whether 
 a writer like this, after accofting him with a fe- 
 verer face than ufual, may not lead him to another 
 kind of fatisfadtion, more fincere and perfed, more 
 likely to afford him a folid tranquillity while he 
 lives, and fweet confolations when he dies ? It is 
 plain, he muft be diffident of the grounds on which 
 that compofure is eredted, wherein he at prefent 
 endeavours to rell, becaufe he dare not truft them 
 to the flighted: examination. How he can deal thus 
 contemptuoufly by his own underftanding, and yet 
 conceitedly call himfelf a rational, nay, a free 
 creature, is inconceiveable to a man really in his 
 fenfes. However, he may venture himfelf perhaps 
 fafcly enough with thefe difcourfes. They are not 
 fuch miracles in their kind, but that their defedls, 
 and his unanfwerable arguments for infidelity and 
 wickednefs, may happen to bring him off, with 
 his favourite fyftem unfhaken. Should this be the 
 cafe, he will have one additional prefumption (and 
 furely he needs a thoufand) to fettle him more fe- 
 curely on the lees of his prefent infatuation. 
 
 Should you. Gentlemen (which God avert), lay 
 afide that attachment to religion and virtue, from 
 which refult the many bleffings you have long en- 
 joyed ; experience will foon teach us to date the ruia 
 of you and your country from that unhappy asra. 
 Infidel principles are the iburce of diffolute pradices^ 
 and diflipated fortunes. No degree of prefent pro- 
 fperity or affluence can ftand its ground againft dif- 
 honefty, ftriking at the root of that credit, and a 
 vicious profufioni^- wafting thofe funds, on which 
 commerce the fpring of wealth is founded. The 
 
 A 4 . city. 
 
^^i The PREFACE. 
 
 City, fully convinced of this important truth, will 
 confider every encroachmient of infidelity, as they 
 do a French invafion > and treat every pert pre- 
 tender to difputation, who, having made fhipwreck 
 of his principle?, harangues for irreligion in the 
 drawing-room, the cofFee-houfe, and fuch-like 
 Talkeries, as a contemptible bankrupt to common 
 fenfe and common honefty. Thus, Gentlemen, it 
 is hoped, you will look on this coxcomb of eon- 
 troverfy, even tho* he {hould give himfelf the air 
 of having learned his infidel parade at 5/. James*^, 
 Your piety is much nearer akin to true wifdom, 
 and your humanity to true politenefs, than that fu- 
 perficial pomp and flourifh, which the unthinking 
 citizen is apt to admire in the mere courtier. Quit 
 not thefe honeft principles and purfuits, that have 
 made you rich, for the contrary, howfoever dig- 
 nified by vain appearances, in hopes they will 
 make you great; for if you ufe your wealth as 
 the Author of Religion, and Giver of wealth, pre- 
 fcribes, you are infinitely greater already, than all 
 the titles and fplendor of nobility can make you. 
 
 All the miferies you have ever fuffered, or feared, 
 confidered either as private perfons, or as a col- 
 le^live and permanent body, were owing to the 
 vices lafhed in the difcourfes hereby introduced to 
 you : And all your wealth and power have flowed 
 from the virtues therein recommended. The writer 
 before you endeavours to give you a ftill deeper de- 
 teftation of thole vices, that have ingendered all 
 your fadions and bankruptcies, all your public and 
 private calamities: And he endeavours to infpirc 
 you with a yet warmer attachment to thofe virtues, 
 which have given you your trade, increafed your 
 numbers, extended and adorned your buildings, 
 
 and 
 
The PREFACE. ix 
 
 and heaped the delicacies of the world on your 
 tables. 
 
 In order to accomplifh thefe happy purpofes, 
 he urges the Chriftian principles in their genuine 
 purity, and with all the weight of their eternal 
 fandlions. And as the beft means deeply to imprefs 
 the fentiments he would excite, he follows the 
 impulfes of nature, without regarding the formality 
 of thofe rules, to which the critics in Sermons 
 would confine that fpecies of performance. As 
 the variety of fubjeds, on which Difcourfes of this 
 kind may be executed, and of the minds to which 
 they may be applied, is endlefs, fo he thinks every 
 human talent may be properly exerted in fuch a 
 work ; nay, exerted with all its force, fince the 
 ends purfued in fuch compofitions are of infinite 
 moment. How is it poffible for the bounded elo- 
 quence of man to exceed on topics, every one of 
 which neceflarily carries the eye into an eternity of 
 duration, and an immenfity of happinefs or mifery ! 
 Topics, on which the miracles of infinite wifdom, 
 compaffion, and power, and of human ingratitude, 
 human infenfibility, and impenitence, are occafion- 
 ally to be difplayed ! Were every word of the 
 preacher to fly on fire to the ears of his audience, 
 they could nor. be too warm for the fubje<5ts he 
 handles, much lefs too piercing, God knows, for 
 the callus of thofe minds they are aimed at. The 
 eloquence of the pulpit cannot poffibly be too much 
 animated, if good fenfe and truth give a bafis to 
 every period. Where thefe are found, infidelity it- 
 felf cannot fufpedl it of enthufiafm or impofture. 
 But how, on the other hand, to reconcile thefrofti- 
 nefs ot fome Difcourfes on the great things of Re- 
 ligion, with the fuppofition of a lively faith in the 
 
 preacher. 
 
^ The P R E F A C E. 
 
 preacher, is a difficulty which fuch a preacher only 
 can explain. He may fay, he is a firm believer, and 
 fufficiently warmed with his faith ; but thinks, rea- 
 finable beings ought to be dealt with only by reafon. 
 And why, only ? Why not rather according to their 
 whole nature ? Did God give us our paffions for 
 nothing? Does religion furnilh no objeds of love 
 and fear ? Or does this difpaflionate preacher fo far 
 regret his own religious warmths, as to think the 
 communication of them to others would be crimi- 
 nal in him ? 
 
 If a point is evident of itfelf, ordemonftrated to the 
 underftanding, or already taken for granted on good 
 grounds by thofe who hear us j is there any danger 
 in preiTmg it home on the heart ? or rather, is there 
 any thing elfe to be done ? We know by experience, 
 not only that a man may be convinced, without be- 
 ing moved j but that, when he is fo, his convidion 
 is of little confequence to him. The Prophets, the 
 Apoflles, and pritnitive Fathers, v/ere above the 
 little arts of rhetoric j yet they wrote and fpoke 
 with ardour, as well as the antient heathen orators. 
 What they had proved, even by miracles, they 
 urged on the ad:ive part of the mind with the moft 
 pathetic addrefles, with the moft inducing promifes, 
 with the moft alarming manaces. The goodnefs, 
 the power, the majefty, of God, glowed in their 
 defcriptions : The virtuous heard, and loved j the 
 vicious heard, and trembled. 
 
 If a preacher is forbidden to meddle with the- 
 pathetic (in which is comprehended every thing 
 that can rightly ftir the paffions), he muft be for- 
 bidden to quote the Scriptures, where a more than 
 human pathos breathes almoft in every page. But 
 if he may quote, why may he not imitate ? Or in- 
 deed. 
 
72^^ P R E F A C E. xi 
 
 deed, how can he forbear exprefling the vehement 
 emotions of his own heart, if his heart is really 
 moved ? He is furely as much at liberty to ufe en- 
 forcements, as reafonings of his own. Nay, it is 
 infinitely more his bufinefs to furniih fuch enforce- 
 ments, than reafonings, for all thofe numerous 
 cafes, where conviftion hath already taken place, 
 but is not attended with a fuitable pradice. Were 
 a man, for inftance, to preach on the fubjed: of 
 murder, it would furely be moft impertinent in 
 him to fpend the time in proving murder to be a 
 fin, and fliewing that God will punifli it ; which 
 every one knows, as well as he. Ought he not 
 rather to fay every thing that could heighten the 
 horror of his audience at the heinoufnefs of that 
 enormous crime? that could rebate their pride, 
 their rage, and malice ? that could fill their hearts 
 with fentiments of tendernefs towards men, and 
 with awful apprehenfions in refped to God, and his 
 judgments ? 
 
 No man hath a more fettled averfion to fanati- 
 cifm and enthufiafm, properly fo called, than the 
 Author of thefe Difcourfes. But whereas the ene- 
 mies of religion have always been induftrious to 
 throw thofe contemptuous names on its moft ra- 
 tional warmths, and are feconded by all the cold 
 tribe of indifferents, who profefs without ever feel- 
 ing it J we ought carefully to diftinguifh between 
 the natural and the feverifh heat of religion, that 
 we may not be deceived in a matter of more confe- 
 quence than is generally imagined. In order to this, 
 we may lay it down for a juft account of enthufi- 
 aftic exceffcs, that they are religious, or rather fuper- 
 ftitious, tranfports, raifed againft reafon, or with- 
 out it. But this cannot be faid of thofe ardours, in 
 
 their 
 
jcii T/^^ P R E F A C E, 
 
 their higheft elevation, which breathe nothing, bi>f 
 love to God, to mankind, and to virtue ; or abhor- 
 rence to vice and wickednefs. In this light right 
 reafon may colidemn the fainter warmths of one 
 man, while it juftifies the more vehement tranfports 
 of another. Every thing ought to ftrike and ftir 
 our afFedions in proportion to its real impoftance, 
 and our concernment in it. Both reafon and nature 
 vote for the juftnefs of this maxim. Reafon there- 
 fore and nature vote for the higheft tranfports iri 
 regard to true religion i becaufe it is of infinitely 
 more importance and concernment to ^us than all 
 other things. Hence we mufl conclude, that to be 
 religioufly cool, if it is not a contradi(5lion in terms, is 
 at leafl the moft irrational and fenfelefs flate of mind 
 we can conceive. Here reafon herfelf bids us be 
 warm, not in animofities and contentions about re- 
 ligion, which are never the growth of that, but of a 
 bad heart ; no, fhe bids us be warm in true piety, and 
 the love of God, and in a fettled deteftation of every 
 thing that may leffen the love, on either fide, be- 
 tween him and us. If the preacher is not thus 
 warmed himfelf, he will warm no body, and, con- 
 fequently, will do no good ; efpecially in an age 
 like this, which, for its coldnefs, may be called 
 The winter of Chriftianity. All diforders require 
 to be cured by applications of a contrary nature. 
 The difordcr, that reigns epidemically at prefent 
 over the minds of men., is of fo chilly a nature, as 
 to call for the moft warm and ftimulating medi- 
 cines. Men are hot enough indeed in the purfuit of 
 unlawful pleafures or profits ; but the preacher does 
 nothing, who cannot give a better turn to their ar- 
 dour, who cannot call up their affeBiomfrom things 
 en earthy and place them, with all their fervour, 
 
 on 
 
're^ P R E F A C E. xiil 
 
 en things above. And how is that to be done, but 
 by painting both in their proper colours, and urging 
 the comparifon on their apprehenfions with a force 
 and vehemence proportionable, both to the immen- 
 fity of the difference, and to the natural numbnefs 
 of their conceptions? 
 
 It is the bufinefs of an orator to convince, to ftir, 
 and to perfuade ; of the facred orator, to convince 
 mankind of fuch truths, to ftir them to fuch emo- 
 tions, and to perfuade them to fuch adtions, as are 
 neceflary to the virtue or reformation, and, confe- 
 quently, to the happinefs, of all who hear him, 
 from the firft dawn of reafon, through every period 
 of their eternal duration. It is therefore fit to ufe 
 a greater energy, and, perfpicuity being preferved, 
 a greater elevation, of ftile, in fpeaking from the 
 pulpit, not only, than in mere controverlial and 
 moral trcatifes, which are not, like Sermons, founded 
 in the ears, and a(fted before the eyes, of men ; but 
 alfo than in any other fpecies of oratory, wherein 
 fubjeds of infinitely lefs dignity and importance are 
 handled. The facred advocate pleads the caufe of 
 all that is good, againft all that is bad, at the bar 
 of God. Ought he, can he be cool in fuch a 
 caufe ? No, the wifdom of God ought to ifTue like 
 light, the goodnefs of God ought to pour like re- 
 frelhing fhowers of rain, and the judgments of 
 God ought to rufti like thunder, from his tongue. 
 To a work fo arduous, and, if ably executed, fo 
 glorious, every faculty of his foul^ and all the 
 purer powers, paffions, and affections, of his mind, 
 fhould be fummonedj while all his looks and 
 geftures, as well as words, fhould co-operate to ex- 
 prefs the convidlions, or enforce the emotions, he 
 feels, and would communicate. If he comes thus 
 
 pre- 
 
XIV "the PREFACE. 
 
 prepared to fpeak, nature will fpeak with him > 
 and he will not want the aid of art, to footh, to 
 alarm, to comfort, to terrify, or, in a word, to 
 flamp any impreflions on the minds of his audience, 
 which the purpofes of religion may require. It 
 will be no boaft in the Author of thefe Difcourfes to 
 fay, he was, fo far, thus prepared, that his whole 
 underflanding and heart, fuch as they are, went 
 with them. This is only to fay, he believes what 
 he preaches, and is animated with the zeal of a 
 faithful meffenger. 
 
 Sermons are generally difregarded, as a dry in- 
 lipid fort of performances, and accordingly read by 
 few, and heard rather with patience than pleafure. 
 This, no doubt, is owing chiefly to a prevailing 
 difrelifli of religion, and of every thing that relates 
 to religion. However, it muft at the fame time 
 be confefTed, that it is, in fome meafure, owing to 
 the too cool and lifelefs manner in which they are, 
 for the moft part, both penned and preached. If 
 the nature of the fubjeds on which they are writ- 
 ten, and the infinitely interefting ends purfued in 
 them, are confidered j it is evident, no fort of com- 
 polition opens a fairer field for genius to (hew itfelf 
 in the author, or for entertainment to engage the 
 hearer and perufer. Why the graver fpecies of wit, 
 arifing from a fine imagination, and condu(5ted by 
 a found judgment j or why the talent of ridicule, 
 fo well fitted, under a proper management, to ex- 
 pofe the filly fide of vice ; fhould be excluded from 
 this fort of performance ; is not eafy to conceive^ 
 The facrednefs of the fubjeds hath furnifhed the 
 only plaufible argument for this exclufion. But as 
 it is an argument that ftrikes at the Scriptures, in 
 which both the fpecies of wit, and the ufe of ridi- 
 cule, 
 
Ty&^ P R E F A C E. XV 
 
 cule, here intimated, are frequently applied to their 
 proper purpofes 5 it ought to be given up, as well 
 in pradice as fpeculation. The Author before you 
 hath fometimes endeavoured to enliven his dif- 
 courfes, as occafion oiFered, with flrokes in both 
 kinds ; and would have done it much oftener, had 
 he not been with-held by a diffidence in his own 
 talents, and a deference to the judgment of better 
 preachers than himfelf. 
 
 But, be thefe matters as they will, it is humbly 
 hoped, you will pleafe to accept the Difcourfes thus 
 dedicated to you, it not as performances worthy of 
 your attention, yet as the teftimony of a grateful 
 heart, and of all imaginable refped, from. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 Tour mo/l obedient. 
 
 And moft devoted. 
 
 Humble Servant, 
 
 Philip Skelton. 
 
[ xvil ] 
 
 C O N T E N T S of the Twenty-five 
 Discourses in Vol.11. 
 
 Disc. I. The Covenant of Peace with God in Chrift 
 
 Jcfus our Mediator, p. i. 
 
 Coloflf. i, 21. Tou that were fometime alienated^ and 
 
 enemies in your mindy by wicked works, yet now hath 
 
 He reconciled. . 
 
 Disc. II. The Covenant of Peace renewed and con- 
 tinued, p. 20. 
 
 1 Cor. xi. 28. Let a man examine himfelf, and fo let 
 him eat of that Bread, and drink ef that Cup. 
 
 Disc III. The Reward annexed to the Chriftian 
 Covenant, p. 40. 
 
 ColofT. iii. 2. Set your affe£lion on things above, not on 
 things on the earth. 
 
 Disc. IV. The Punifl:iment annexed to the Chriftian 
 Covenant, p. 58. 
 
 2 Cor. V. 10, 1 1. JVe mufi all appear before the judg- 
 ment-feat ofChriJi\ that every one may receive the things 
 done in his body^ according to that he hath done, whether 
 it be good or bad. — Knowing therefore the terror of the 
 Lord, we perfuade men. 
 
 Disc. V. Of Love towards God, p, 73. 
 
 Luke X. 27. Thou Jh alt love the Lord thy God with all 
 thy heart, and with all thy foul, and with all thy ftrength, 
 and with all thy mind. 
 
 Vol. 11. a Disc. VI 
 
xviii The CONTENTS. 
 
 Disc. VI. On the Fear of God, p. pi. 
 
 Prov. xiv, 26. In the fear of the Lord is Jlrong confidence. 
 
 Disc. VII. A Prefcrvati've againfl; Temptations, 
 
 p. no. 
 Prov. xvii. g. The fining-pot is for ftlver, and the fur- 
 nace for gold i but the Lord trieth the hearts. 
 
 Disc. VIII. Habit the Source of Happinefs or Mi- 
 sery, Z' 130. 
 Jerem. xiii. 23. Can the Ethiopian change his Jkin^ or 
 the leopard his fpots ? Then may ye alfo do goody who are 
 accuftomed to do evil. 
 
 Disc. IX, The Neceflity of a fpeedy Repentance, 
 
 p. 147. 
 Ifaiah Iv. 6, 7. Seek ye the Lord ^ while he may he found-, 
 call ye upon him, while he is near. — Let the wicked for- 
 fake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts ; and 
 let him return unto the Lord, and he fhall have mercy up- 
 on him ; and to our God, for he will abundantly -pardon. 
 
 Disc. X. The Weak {hould be watchful, p. 166. 
 1 Cor. X. 1 2 . Let him that thinketh he fiandeth, take 
 heed leji he fall. 
 
 Disc XL Man his own Enemy, /. 184,. 
 
 Gal. V. 1 7. The Flefh lufieth againfi the Spirit, and the 
 Spirit againfl the Flefh : And thefe are contrary one to 
 the other. 
 
 Disc. XII. The Progrefs of M.in, p. 201. 
 
 Pfalm viii. 5. Thou hafi made him a little lower than 
 the angels. 
 
 Disc. XIII. Who are Idolater?;, ^.218 
 
 St. Matthew iv. 10. Thou fh alt worflnp the Lord thy 
 God, and him only fhalt thou ferve. 
 
 2 Disc. XIV. 
 
The C O N T E N T S. xix 
 
 Disc. XIV. Spiritual Light and Darknefs, p, 234. 
 Romans xiii. 11. Now it is high time to awake out of 
 Jleep, 
 
 Disc. XV. Woe to the Drunkard, p. 2fi. 
 
 Ifaiah v. 22. Woe unto them that are mighty to drink 
 wine, and men of ftrength to mingle Jlrong drink. 
 
 Disc. XVI. Pride an Humbler, p. 269. 
 
 Prov. xxix. 23. A man's pride fhall bring him low. 
 
 Disc. XVII. The Dignity of the Chiiftian Miniftry, 
 
 p. 286. 
 
 St. Mark x. 43, 44. Whofoever will he great among you, 
 fhall be your minijier : — And whofoever of you will be the 
 chief ejt, fhall be fervant of all. 
 
 Disc. XVIII. The religious Duty of Parents and 
 Mafters enforced, p. 306, 
 
 Jolhua xxiv. 15. As for me and my houfe, we will ferve 
 the Lord. 
 
 Disc. XIX. The Honour due to God's Name, 
 
 p. 322. 
 Leviticus xix. 20. Te fhall not fwear by my Name falfly ; 
 neither fhalt thou -profane the Name of thy God : I am 
 the Lord. 
 
 Disc. XX. Chriftians muft follow Chrift, p. i^^i, 
 Phil. ii. 5. Let this Mind be in yoUy which was alfo in 
 Chriji Jefus. 
 
 Disc. XXI. Chrift's Crucifixion celebrated every 
 Day, p. 356. 
 
 St. Mark xv. 21. — Woe to that man, by whom the Son 
 of man is betrayed.-^ 
 
 Disc. XXIL 
 
XX The C O N T E N T S. 
 
 Disc. XXII. The Canning Man, p. :^7 7. 
 
 Jeremiah ix. v. They will deceive every one his neigh- 
 lour^ and will not fpeak the truth. They have taught 
 their tongue to /peak lyes^ and weary them/elves to com- 
 mit iniquity. 
 
 Disc. XXIII. The Gofpel proved to the Unlearned, 
 
 A 388. 
 St. Matthew xi. 5. The poor have the Gofpel preached 
 to them. 
 
 Disc. XXIV. Chriftianity not mcredible, becaufe 
 myfterious, p 40 f. 
 
 John xvii. 1 5. righteous Father^ the world hath not 
 known thee. 
 
 Disc. XXV. He only faves, who wifely gives 
 away, p 420. 
 
 Ads ^x.2S' ^^ ^^ ^^°^^ blejfed to give, than to receive. 
 
 D I S- 
 
[I] 
 
 DISCOURSE!. 
 
 The Covenant of Peace with God in 
 Chrift Jefus our Mediator. 
 
 CoLOSS. i. 21. 
 
 2'ou that were fometi?ne alienated^ and enemies in 
 your mindy by wicked works, yet now hath He 
 reconciled. 
 
 TH E Apoftle here fays to the Coloffians, what 
 he had faid in other words to the Ephefians^ 
 Te who fometimes were afar off, are made nigh 
 hy the blood of Cbriji ; for he is our peace -, and in both 
 tells them, and us all, that we are, by our prefent finful 
 nature, alienated from our duty, and made enemies to 
 God ; fo that we are call off, and placed at a great diftance 
 from his favour, who cannot look on iniquity, without the 
 higheft difpleafure. But then, to our unfpeakabJe com- 
 fort as Chriftians, he tells us, we are now reconciled to 
 God, and brought near to him again, by the blood ofChriJi, 
 who is our peace, who bath abolifhed in his flejh the enmily^ 
 fo making peace for us, and reconciling us unto God by the 
 crofs, having flain the enmity thereby -, through whom we 
 have an accefs by one Spirit unto the Father, 
 
 Can any thing be fo affecting as thefe two oppofite lights, 
 
 wherein we are fet ? Such fears and hopes ! Such terrors 
 
 Vol. II. B and 
 
2 The Cove?iant of Peace 
 
 and comforts 1 The world is made for man, and man 
 for God ! 
 
 But man rebels, and, becoming an enemy to his almighty- 
 Maker, is given up to mifery, to death, and to eternal 
 torment : The only-begotten Son of God, finding us in 
 this dreadful condition, takes our nature on him, dies on 
 the crofs to pay the wages of our fins, and reftores peace 
 between his offended Father and our fouls. Thus we are 
 made the objeds of mercy, juftice having been fatisfied 
 for our fins ; and, if we fincerely believe, and truly re- 
 pent, fhall again be taken into favour, and taftethe happy 
 effcfts of that favour, in joy, in glory, in life eternal. 
 
 If this had not been our own calc, and we had been 
 only told it of thofe beings who inhabit fome other planet 
 or v/orld, how fliould We have been aftonilhed and af- 
 fe6led 1 A race of rational creatures at war with their 
 Maker, and reconciled to him by the death of his Son 1 
 Which of the two muft have ftruck us with the greater 
 amazement ? Their rebellion, or his compafTion ? 
 
 But this, dearly beloved in Chrift Jefus, is not the ac- 
 count of a diftant world, nor of a foreign people ; nor is 
 it a theatrical fable, contrived to work on our affections 
 by mere imaginary fears and hopes. No, it is the true 
 flory of ourfelves, of our rebellion and mifery, of our re- 
 demption and glory ; and God himfelf is the hifborian. 
 Is it poffible then we can hear it without the utmoft emo- 
 tion ? Is there an affeftion, a paffion, or any fingie fpring 
 of thought within us, that does not ftir with all its force 
 at the awakening relation ? If we are not loft to reafon, 
 and deftitute of all fenfe and feeling, this muft roufe 
 us to refieclions infinitely more deep and keen, than 
 any thing elfe we can pofiibly think of. And if we arc 
 roufed or moved, in any proportion to the important di- 
 gnity of the fubjefl, we are then in a proper frame of mind 
 to confider the danger and mifery we are expofed to by 
 nature, the happinefs we are called to by the Gofpel, and 
 the condicions, on which this happinefs is propofed to 
 us by our Saviour. 
 
 In the firft place, if we confider the Divine nature and 
 our own, as we now find it, v/e mult conclude, there is 
 
 enmity 
 
liith God in Chrift Jcfus. 3 
 
 enmity between them, and that our natural ftate is a 
 ftate of war with God. As God is holy and good him- 
 Iclf, he cannot but hate fin, and thofe who commit fin. 
 Now, our lives, through the corruption of our nature, 
 are fo ftained with fins of all forts, that as fure as God 
 is good, fo furely mud we be objefts of his difpleafure. 
 On the other hand, fuch is the purity of his laws, and 
 fuch the wickednefs and perverfenefs of our wills, that 
 we are naturally as averle to his injunftions, as he is to 
 our adlions. Thus while God refents our vices, and we 
 refift his will, the enmity becomes mutual. 
 
 Notwithftanding all that education and corredion can 
 do for us when we are young, and all the power that reli- 
 gion, and the laws of our counrry, have over us, when we 
 are grown up, they of mankind who keep within tokrable 
 bounds, are but few, in comparifon of fuch as lead very 
 diforderly and finful lives ; and even the beft of men are 
 fo very often, and fometimes fo extremely, wanting to 
 their duty,, that experience fufficiently proves the uni- 
 verfal corruption of our nature, and confequently the 
 natural enmity between God and us. Now this is far 
 worfe than fimple enmity, becaufe as God is our Maker, 
 ourPreferver and Governor, we cannot thus refift his will, 
 without foul ingradtude, and horrible rebellion. 
 
 What experience tells us in this matter, the word of 
 God ftrongly confirms. It will be fufficient to quote 
 two or three paflages, out of an infinite number, to prove 
 a point fo clear in itfelf, as God's hatred to fin. David, 
 fpeaking of Chrift, fays, Thou loveji righteoufnefs, and 
 hateji wickednefs. 'The way of the wicked is an abomina- 
 tion to the Lord, faith Solomon. The prophet Habakkuk 
 tells us, God is of purer eyes than to behold evil ; and 
 that he cannot look upon iniquity. And as fin itfelf is faid 
 to be enmity againft God, fo thofe who are guilty of it, 
 are called his enemies. Whofoever^ faith St. James, will be 
 a friend to the world, is an enemy of God •, and, by worlds 
 he means the unlav/ful defire, or enjoyment, of worldly 
 things. 
 
 St. Fauly in his epiftle to the Colojfians, fays, that the 
 wrath of God cometh on the children of difobedience, en 
 
 B 2 account 
 
4 The Covenant of 'J*eace 
 
 accctint of fornication^ uncleannefs, inordinate affe^ion, evil 
 concupifcence, and covetoufnefs^ which is idolatry. Indi' 
 gnation and wrath^ tribulation and anguifh^ are denounced, 
 in the epiftle to the Romans, on every foul that doth evil. 
 The face of the Lord, faith David, is againfi them that 
 do evil. There is no peace, faith the Lord, to the wicked. 
 
 Thus it appears, that fin is enmity, and they who com- 
 mit fin, enemies to God. Now, if it ihall appear as 
 plainly, that all men do by nature live in a ftate of fin, it will 
 follow, that ail men are by nature in a ftate of enmity, or 
 war with God ; but of this there is abundant proof. God 
 faiv, faith Mofes, that the wickednefs of man was great 
 in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts 
 of his heart was only evil continually. All we, faith Ifaiah, 
 like fheep, have gone ajiray. Behold, faith the Pfalmift, / 
 was fhapen in iniquity^ and in fin hath my mother conceived 
 me. St. Paul concludes from thefe words of Davidy 
 There is none righteous, no, not one, that not only the 
 Gentiles, hut the Jews alfo^ are all under Jin, inafmuch as 
 all have finned, and come fhort of the glory of God, and 
 the way of peace have they not known. The Scripture, 
 faith he, to the Galatians, hath concluded all under fm\ 
 and to the Ephefians, IVe all had our converfation in 
 times paji in the lujis of our jiefh, fulfilling the defires 
 of the flefh, and of the mind, and were by nature the 
 children of wrath, being aliens from the commonwealth 
 ©/"Ifrael, and jtr angers from the covenants of promife. The 
 natural man, faith the fame Apoftle, receiveth not the 
 things of the Spirit of God, for they are fooliflmefs to him. 
 The heart, faicii the Prophet Jeremy, is deceitful above 
 all things, and defperately wicked -, who can know it ? 
 
 From what hath been faid it is plain, we are naturally 
 corrupt and wicked -, and that God abhors us, as fuch ; al- 
 though, confidered as his creatures, he hath that com- 
 pafTion for us, which the beft of fathers retains for his un- 
 dutiful and difobedient children. 
 
 What we are to expetft, if we remain in this ftate of 
 fin and enmity with God, is eafy to conceive j namely, 
 the elieds of his difp'eafure •, and what thofe are, the 
 Scriptures tell us fo plainly, that it muft be our own 
 
 faults. 
 
with God in Chrijl Jefus. f 
 
 faults, if we are not fufficiently apprifed of them, and 
 alarmed at them. The wrath of God is revealed from 
 heaven againjl all ungodlinefs and unrighteoufnefs of men. 
 The wicked, wc are told, Jhall go away into everlafting 
 fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. The wages of 
 ftn is death, not only temporal, but eternal It is there- 
 fore a mojl fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living 
 God, after having fpent our days in rebellion againft a 
 Being infinitely too wife to be impofed on, too juft to 
 be byafied, and too powerful to be refifted. 
 
 On the other hand, if peace is made between him 
 and us, and kept on our fide, by a due obfervation of the 
 conditions, we fliall then be made meet to be partakers of 
 the inheritance with the Saints in light •, we fhall then 
 fhine in the kingdom of our Father, as the ftars, for ever 
 and ever -, then fhall we receive the crown of life, which 
 the Lord hath promifed to them that love him ; then fliall 
 we be placed at his right-hand., where there are pkafiires 
 for evermore •, and, to make our happinefs moft perfecfl:, 
 we fhall fee God in peace, and know him only in the 
 blefTed effe<5ls of his love, which it is as impoffible for 
 us now to conceive, as it will be then to utter. 
 
 How then is this peace, of fuch infinite importance to 
 us, both on account of the miferies it delivers us from, 
 and the happinefs it gives us hopes of, to be made ? And 
 what are the terms and conditions, on which it is offered? 
 Though we fliould be fubjecled to all manner of difficul- 
 ties, as preparatory to peace with God ; yet as there is no 
 ftanding out, nor remaining in a ftate of war and rebellion, 
 againft him with whom we have to do, it is our bufinefs to 
 clofe v/ith any conditions, though never fo rigorous. But 
 we need not be afraid -, for God, whofe mercy is equal 
 to his power, knowing of v;hat we are made, hath, ot his 
 own free motion and grace, invited us to peace, through 
 a covenant founded in the blood cf his Son ; which, by 
 the affiftance he engages to lend us, it will not only be 
 ealy, but, after a little Itruggle with ourfelves, extremely 
 pleafant, to keep. Our blelled Saviour and Mediator, who 
 hath procured the benefit of this covenant for us by the 
 facrifice of his blood, hath appointed the ficrament of bap- 
 
 B 3 tifni 
 
6 T^he Covenant of Peace 
 
 tifm as the means whereby the contrafling parties, God 
 and the new Chriftian, folemnly plight their promifes to 
 each other ; and hath likewife made the other facrament, 
 that of his laft Tapper, the feal which renews and con- 
 firms the covenant with every penitent tranfgreffor. In 
 both he communicates the afllftance of the Holy Spirit, 
 which helps our infirmities^ and enables us, if we are not 
 ihamefully wanting to ourfelves, to obferve and perform 
 the conditions promifcd on our part. 
 
 As Chrift, and all the benefits of his paflion, and holy 
 religion, are propofed to us in this covenant -, as there 
 is no other way to efcape the vengeance threatened, or 
 obtain the bleitings promifed, in holy Scripture ; and 
 as it is by the articles engaged for on our part in this 
 folemn compacSb, ti.at we muft live here, and be judged 
 hereafter •, fo there is nothing knowable, which we are ^o 
 much concerned to underftand, nothing pradlicable, which 
 we are fo much interefted to obferve and follow, as this. 
 From no other fountain can we derive any reafonable hopes 
 or fears of confiderable confequence to us. Heaven and 
 hell depend on it •, and therefore all our attention ought 
 to be centred in it. All that is to pafs between God and 
 us, is to be regulated according to the Chriftian covenant 
 here, and to be determined by it hereafter. 
 
 Since this is truly the cafe, let us fee what it is that 
 God's promifes and ours are interchangeably pledged for 
 in this mofb iacred contraft. 
 
 We have already feen in general what we are to expecfl 
 as the fruits of peace with God -, namely, eternal life^ eter- 
 nal happinefs and glory. Our prefent afifurance of this is 
 reprefented in various lights by the Scriptures. JVe are 
 made one with Chriji^ as he is one with the Father. We 
 are united into one church, or fpiritual body, whereot he 
 is the bead. All together we are the body of Chrifiy and 
 members in particular. Thus joined to him, who is by 
 nature the Son of God, we alfo become, by a new birth in 
 baptifm^ the adopted fons or children of God. We have 
 received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry., Abba^ 
 Father \ and, being taken into the family of God, are 
 made his children by faith in Chrift Jefus. The provifion 
 
 made 
 
moith God in Chriji '\jefm. y 
 
 made for us is fuitable to the grandeur of our new relation -, 
 no lefs than an eternal kingdom^ which it is the Father's 
 good pleafure to give usy as his beloved children, and con- 
 fequentiy heirs, heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Chriji •, 
 infomuch that, being one with him, where he is, there Jhall 
 we he alfo, partakers both of his nature, and of his in- 
 heritance in happinefs and glory. We ne^d not lay, fince 
 thcfe are the promifes of God, that they cannot poffibly 
 fail of performance, provided we do our utmoft to fulfil 
 the promifes made on our part. 
 
 But how fhall we enter into a covenant of peace with 
 God, fince we are by nature at enmity with him, and 
 averfe to his laws ? Can we ad againft our nature ? Can 
 the branch of the wild-olive be, of itielf, cut off, and 
 grafted into a good olive tree ? Or, fuppofing this covenant 
 once eftablifhed between God and us, how Ihall creatures, 
 fo naturally wicked, atft up to rules fo perfedly pure and 
 holy, as, no doubt, the infinitely holy Being will pre- 
 fcribe ? The Son of God, after having appeafed his Fa- 
 ther's wrath againft us by the facrifice of his blood, now 
 calls us as a Mediator, pleading with us as with the Fa- 
 ther, firft, to a due confidcration of our danger in a na- 
 tural ftate of enmity with God, and of the blcfled fruits 
 propofed by peace with him ; fecondly, requires in us a 
 iirm refolution to exert our utmoft powers in performing 
 the articles of that peace ; and, thirdly, aflfures us, fo far 
 as our own ftrength is infufiicient, of the effedual aids of 
 his Holy Spirit. 
 
 The firft' thing to be done by us in making a covenant 
 of peace with God, is, to renounce and declare war with 
 his enemies, the devil, the world, and the fieQi •, between 
 whom and us there had been too clofe a league, while 
 we were under the influence of a corrupt and diforderly 
 H-iture. We cannot be at the Hime time in peace with 
 God and his enemies, becaufe they prefcribe two oppofite 
 fchemes of life. He who does rot proclaim war with the 
 devil, and all the irreligious principles, or wicked aftions, 
 he would tempt us to, fuch as atheifm, blalphemy, prc- 
 fanenefs, rebellion, i^c. remains ftill in a ftate of war and 
 enmity with God. He who does not renounce, and bid 
 
 B 4 Ucfiaa(.c 
 
§ The Covenant of Peace 
 
 defiance to, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, 
 to covetoufnefs, to pride, ambition, ^c, which did at 
 firfl in the devil, and do (till both in him, and the unre- 
 generate part of mankind, fo direftly oppofe the Divine 
 nature and will, remains in a ftate of enmity with God. 
 He who does not fet his refolution, and arm his heart, 
 againft the fmful lulls of the flefli, fuch as intemperance, 
 luxury, malice, anger, and concupifcence, continues ftill 
 in a ftate of enmity with God. \^ we fubmit ourfelves to 
 Cody we muft reftjl the devil. If we love God, we muji 
 not love the worlds neither the things that are in the world ; 
 for if any man love the worlds the love of the Father is not 
 in him. If we dedicate ourfelves to the fervice of God, as 
 the members of Chrift, we muft have crucified the flefh, 
 with the affe^ions and lufts ; knowing, that, if we live 
 after the fiefh^ we fhall die \ hut^ if through the Spirit we 
 do mortify the deeds of the body, we fhall live with God. 
 
 The next thing to be done by us, on embracing the 
 covenant of peace with God, is, to believe fincerely all 
 that God hath revealed to us in his word, and more efpe- 
 ciqlly fuch articles of faith as relate immediately to God, 
 the objefl of our worfhip •, and to his will, the rule of our 
 adions. He who knows not the governor in any community, 
 knows not Vi/hom to obey. He who knows not his laws, 
 knowsnot how to obey. He who knows not the rewards and 
 punilhments annexed to thofe laws, is not likely to obey ; 
 becaufe he knows not the reafons or motives of obedience. 
 Faith in the Holy Trinity is necelTaiy j becaufe it is that 
 into which we are baptized, when we enter into the cove- 
 nant. Faith in the fatisfaftion made by Chrift for our 
 fins is neceffary 5 becaufe on that is founded his office of 
 mediation, whereby the covenant of peace with God was 
 obtained. Faith in his incarnation is neceffary ; becaufe 
 without a body he could not have made the atonement, 
 nor confequently procured the covenant. Faith in the 
 afiiftance of the Holy Spirit is neceffary ; becaufe we 
 know, or ought to know, that, without fuch affiftance, 
 we are not able to keep the covenant. And faith in a 
 judgment to come, and endlefs rewards and puniftimentS 
 so tollow, is necelHiry ; becaufe, if thefe are not believed 
 
with God in Chrift Jefis. 9 
 
 In, the laws of God, which we covenant to obey, can 
 have little or no influence on our pradlice. We fee thefe 
 articles of faith are fo clofely conneded with the covenant, 
 that it is impoffible for us to receive it, and difbelieve 
 them. Befides, on thefe the Scriptures lay the greateft 
 flrefs 5 and therefore they demand our clofeft attention. 
 God pledges his word for their truth ; and therefore we 
 muft believe them. Thefe were the principal things which 
 Chrift came to do and teach, either perfonally, or by his 
 Holy Spirit ; and he tells us. He that believeth on the Son^ 
 ifath eternal life \ and he that believeth not the Son^ Jhall not 
 fee life^ but the wrath of God abideth on him, as at firft ; 
 becaufe he hath not that faith, which is neceifary to a 
 covenant of peace with God. 
 
 The laft thing we are to promife in covenanting with 
 God, is, a ftridl obfervance of all his commandments. To 
 refufe this, is to deny his fupreme authority •, is to proclaim 
 war with him, and declare ourfelves rebels to his govern- 
 ment. Without a promife therefore for this purpofe, we 
 can neither have peace nor covenant with God. 
 
 But fuch a promife will be highly prefumptuous and 
 ofFenfive in the fight of God, if it is not founded on a 
 fincere and deep repentance for all our former tranfgref- 
 fions of his laws. For this reafon we are commanded to 
 repent, and then to be baptized', and furely it is a ftrong 
 one i for what hope can there be of future obedience, but 
 what arifes from a thorough concern and forrow for paft 
 offences ? And how can the baptifmal covenant be em- 
 braced by him, whofe profpeft of fulfilling this important 
 promife is warranted by no averfion to the violation of it*, 
 and, conffcquently, by no fixed refolution to guard againfc 
 it hereafter f We fee, God calls us to repentance, and the- 
 covenant, at qnce -, and therefore we cannot come to the 
 one, if we bring not the other with us, without the im- 
 pious abfurdity of attempting a peace with God and fin, 
 at the fame time. 
 
 But, in cafe we do truly repent, then we are to confider, 
 that as, upon engaging in the Chriftian covenant, we are 
 concerned ■ with God the Ruler of the religious kingdom, 
 and with mapkin^ our fellov/-fubje(5ts i fo the laws or 
 
 commandments 
 
10 ^he Covenant of Peace 
 
 commandments to be obferved relate partly to him, 
 and partly to them. If we do not promife to keep thofe 
 which relate to God, we cannot enter into his kingdom j 
 becaufe where there is no promife of obedience on the one 
 fide, there can be no expedlation of it on the other i and, 
 confequently, wrath and enmity muft remain. Again, 
 if we do not promife to keep thofe commandments that 
 relate to our fellow-fubjeds, or fellow-chriftians, we there- 
 by declare war with them, and of courfe with him who 
 reprefents and proteds them. 
 
 The obfervation of God's commandments, whether re,- 
 ]ating to himfelf, or our neighbour, is every-where preflfed 
 on us, with all the force that either promifes or menaces 
 can add to that important part of our duty. It is alfo 
 preffed on us as the means of deUverance from the ty- 
 ranny of thofe enemies we renounce in our covenant with 
 God j for Chrift joins it to the inftitution of baptifm. Go 
 ye therefore^ and teach all nations^ baptizing them in the 
 name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghofl, 
 teaching them to ohferve all things whatfoever I have com- 
 manded you ; and Zacharias pleads it as the promife of 
 'God to Abraham, that we, being delivered out of the hands 
 of our enemies, might ferve him without fear, in holinefs 
 and right eoufnefs before him, all the days of our life. But 
 it is carefully to be obferved, that our obedience cannot 
 procure the approbation of God, if it docs not proceed 
 from a principle of love towards him and our neighbour ; 
 for he fays. If ye love me, keep my commandments. 'Thou 
 floalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with 
 all thy foul, and with all thy mind : "This is the firfi and 
 great commandment. And the fecond is like unto it. Thou 
 jfJmlt love thy neighbour as thyfelf. On thefe two hang all 
 the law and the prophets -, for love is the fulfilling of the 
 law. God, we fee, requires our obedience on that ami- 
 able, that exalted principle of ciiarity, vv^herewith he pur- 
 pofes to unite us to himfelf, and one another, in the glo- 
 rious community formed by theChrilUan covenant. 'Jhis 
 purely moral part of the covenant, which was once deli- 
 vered from Mount Sinai in a voice that fJjook the earth, 
 and ilruck terror into thofe that received it, is now founded 
 
 by 
 
ivitb God in Chrift Jefiis. 1 1 
 
 by our bleffed Saviour on the love of God and man ; 
 and not only propofed as a rule for our outward aftions, 
 but as a pure and fpiritual law of liberty^ corre<5ling our 
 inward thoughts, and teaching us to confider God as a 
 fearcher of hearts, who will judge us by our wills, as well 
 as our deeds. 
 
 Carrying this obfervation wid'i us, let us briefly touch 
 the purport of each commandment •, and thofe firft, that 
 prefcribe our duty to God himfelf. In the firft place, 
 we muft, by love, fear, prayer, and dependence, worlhip 
 the Lord our God, and ferve him alone, by every inftance, 
 whether in thought or deed, of duty and obedience to 
 whatfoever he injoins. Not to worfhip him, or to worfhip 
 any thing elfe, in this manner, is revolt, rebellion, and a 
 renewal of enmity with God. 
 
 Secondly, To pay any part of our worihip to an image, 
 a pidlure, or any other creature, as the reprefentative of 
 God, is not to worjhip him in fpirit and truth, as he re- 
 quires i nor to fae from idolatry, as he commands ; but 
 to thruft in the creature between God and our affections 
 of love, reverence, and truft ; which excites his jealoufy^ 
 and is therefore regarded by him as a declaration of war 
 .and rebellion againft him. 
 
 Thirdly, To fwear falfly by his Name, or to profane 
 it by ufing it in our common or idle difcourfe, is in both 
 inftances to take his awful Name in vain ; becaufe, in the 
 one cafe, it is applied to no purpofe, and, in the other, 
 to a concealment, not a difcovery, of the truth ; which, 
 he tells us, he will look on as an horrible fin, that is, as 
 an infolent affront to his majefty, and an ad of enmity 
 and hoftility againft him. 
 
 Fourthly, To feize any thing dedicated to God, par- 
 ticularly by his own commandment, more efpecially that 
 day which he hath fet apart for his worftiip, and our in- 
 ftru6lion, and to apply it to common or profane ufes, is 
 a violation committed on his peculiar property, and con- 
 fequently an adl of enmity againft him. 
 
 As to thofe commandments which contain our duty 
 
 towards our neighbour, they are the commandments of 
 
 "Godj as well as thofe that relate immediately to himfelf; 
 
 and 
 
1 2 T/^^ Covenant of Peace 
 
 and therefore we cannot tranfgrefs them, without a griev- 
 ous injury to God, and our neighbour, who is under his 
 government and protection. 
 
 To dilhonour, or, in any thing lawful, to difobey our 
 parents, or fuch as God, by his providence, hath fet over 
 us, with either civil or fpiritual authority, is to difho- 
 nour and refift God in his deputy ; for he commands us 
 to honour and obey our parents ; to be fubjefl to prin- 
 cipalities and powers ; to obey and fubmit ourfehes to 
 them who have the rule over us in fpiritual matters \ for 
 they watch for our fouls^ as they that mufi give an ac- 
 count \ and to be fuhje£l to our tnajlers with all fear, not 
 only to the good and gentle, but alfo to the froward. 
 
 To take away the life of any man, without a law- 
 ful caufe or authority j to maim or injure his perfon, 
 or even to be angry with him, without a fiifficient caufe ; 
 is to attack God in his image j is to fhew hatred, where 
 he prefcribes love ; who hkh, A new commandment I give 
 unto you^ that ye love one another. Whofoever hateth his 
 brother, is a murderer ; and God will be the avenger, 
 710 1 only of blood, but of malice, which thirfts for blood. 
 
 To commit uncleannefs of any kind, in thought, word, 
 or deed, more efpecially to be guilty of fornication, adul- 
 tery, or other more unnatural lufts, too abominable to 
 be named, is to render ourfelves foul and hateful in the 
 light of Godi and, as it wounds both our own fouls, and 
 thofe of our unhappy partners in fin, it reprefents us as 
 tempters, feducers, and as enemies of that pure and 
 holy God, who faith, I have not called you to unclean- 
 fiefs, but to holinefs ; flee fornication, knowing that no 
 whoremonger, nor unclean petfon, hath any inheritance in 
 the kingdom of Chrifi, and of God. Whoremongers and 
 adulterers I will judge ; and I will judge them by their de- 
 fires and wills, tor, in my fight, he who looketh on a wo- 
 man to lufi after her, hath committed adultery with her al- 
 ready in his heart. 
 
 To poffefs ourfelves of our neighbour's property, by 
 theft, by robbery, by fraud, by extortion, or by op- 
 preffion, is to provoke God, the guardian of jufticc, 
 who faith, Z,^/ hiin that jiole, Jleal no more ♦, thoujhalt not 
 
 rob. 
 
with God in Chrift J ejus. 13 
 
 7oh thy neighbour •, let no man go beyond, or defraud his 
 brother in any matter -, the extortioner jhall not inherit the 
 kingdom of God ; ye floall not opprefs one another ; wo to 
 him who buildeth his houfe by unrighteoufnefs^ and his cham- 
 bers by wrong, who ufeth his neighbour's fervice without 
 wages. 
 
 To give falfe teftimony before the magiftrate, or in a 
 court of juftice, or either lightly or malicioufly to take 
 away the charafter of our neighbour, is one of the moft 
 grievous injuries we can do him, and a deliberate infult 
 upon God, who faith, Thou fhalt not raife a falfe report: 
 put not thine hand with the wicked to be an unrighteous 
 witnefs; I hate a falfe witnefs, that fpeaketh lyes \ I my- 
 f elf will be a fwift witnefs againjl the falfe fwearer ; judge 
 not, that ye be not judged •, charity thinketh no evil', there- 
 fore fpeak evil of no man -, fpeak not evil one of an- 
 other ; he that fpeaketh evil of his brother, and judgetb 
 his brother, fpeaketh evil of the law, and judgeth the ' 
 law ; but if thou judge the law, thou art not a doer of 
 the law, but a judge. But there is one lawgiver, who 
 is able to fave, and to defiroy : Who art thou that judgefi 
 another ? Who art thou that judged the fervant of an- 
 other ? To his own majier he flandeth or falleth •, yea, he 
 fhall be holden up -, for I am able to make him ftand in 
 fpite of thee, who prefumeft to place thyfelf in my tri- 
 bunal, and fit in judgment on thy fellow-fervant, per- 
 haps thy fellow-finner, whofe offences arc not more pro- 
 voldng than thy own. 
 
 In the laft place. To covet our neighbour's wife or 
 poffcffions, or to defire them, without acquiring a juft 
 or legal right to them, is as great a fin, as adtually to 
 feize them -, perhaps in this reipeft a greater, that the 
 regard we pay to the laws of men, with-hoids our hands ; 
 whereas we ihew fo little for thofe of God, who fees and 
 judges the heart, that there is nothing wanting but oppor- 
 tunity and fecrecy, to the full execution of the injurious 
 purpofe we are invited to by our dilhoneil principles and 
 defires. It is no difficult matter to judge in what light 
 ke mud ftand before God, who hath no other fenfe of 
 duty than what arifcs from his fear of woildly (hamc or 
 
 punifhment > 
 
14 The Covefiant of Peace 
 
 punifliment ; while he fets the laws and judgments of 
 God at nought, as if the Ruler of the world could nei- 
 ther fee nor punilh. Hath not God commanded us to 
 be content with fuch things as we have? I'd take heed 
 and beware of covetoufnefs^ which he calls idolatry ? Is he 
 not in a ftate of war and enmity with God, who is thus 
 prepared for the violation of his neighbour's property ; 
 who is reftrained by the laws of men, but defpifes the 
 commandment of God -, and whofe heart is alienated 
 from the true objedt of love and worlhip, to an idol, 
 or falfe god, of his own ereding ? 
 
 Now here it is to be obferved, that neither branch of 
 intemperance, gluttony or drunkennefs, is exprefly for- 
 bidden in any of thefe commandments ; and why ? but 
 becaufe thefe laws of God are laid on men, that is, ra- 
 tional creatures, and not on brutes •, and therefore imply 
 the abfence of both thofe vices in all his fubjeds. He 
 who injoined thefe duties, injoined alfo the neceflary 
 means. Now a fenfual brute, though in the Ihape of a 
 man, is in no capacity to perform any one of thefe laws ; 
 and therefore if thefe two vices had not been fufficiendy 
 condemned in other parts of Scripture, yet as here they 
 are, by neceflary confequence, prohibited in every fingle 
 commandment, the fenfualift ftands condemned, by the 
 tenour of the whole moral law, as an enemy toGod. His 
 over-heated blood, and pampered paffions, are furely far 
 enough from renouncing the lulls of the flefh, and from 
 a difpofition to conform to the will of God. 
 
 All the duties we owe ourfeives, fuch as religious 
 knowlege, temperance, fobriety, humility, meeknefs, 
 contentednefs, Qc. come under this way of reafoning ; 
 and are comprehended in the commandments of God, 
 though thofe commandments feem to have only God 
 and our neighbour for their objeds. Nay, the principle 
 whereon we feek our own improvement and happinefs, is 
 the very principle and fpring of all the duties to be per- 
 formed either to God or man ; firft, becaufe it is mod evi- 
 dent, that the virtues juft now mentioned, while they render 
 us good and happy in ourfeives, tend direftly to make us 
 dutiful to Godj and both juft and beneficent to mankind ; 
 
 as 
 
with God in Chrijl Jefus. I^ 
 
 as it is, on the contrary, that he who is not thus princi- 
 pled, is neither in a capacity, nor difpofition, to demean 
 himfelf, as he ought, to God, or man -, and, fecondly, 
 becaufe the motives to the performance of our duty, both 
 to our Maker, and neighbour, work on us chiefly, if not 
 only, through that regard we have for our own happinefs, 
 temporal, and eternal. What is it prevails on us to do 
 the duties of either table ? Is it not becaufe we firmly be- 
 lieve, we Ihall be happy, if we do, and miferable, if we 
 do not, perform thofe duties ? He therefore who fins 
 againfl God, or his neighbour, fins againfl; himfelf. He 
 only, who is a good man in himfelf, is prepared to be a 
 good fervant to the former, and a good neighbour or fel- 
 low'-chriftian to the latter. Thus, you fee, the law of 
 God is perfe6l, and takes in every branch of our duty to 
 God, ourfelves, and our neighbours. 
 
 St. Paul tells us, this law is holy^ and the command- 
 ment holy^ andjuji^ and good ; and our Saviour, exprefly 
 mentioning thefe commandments, faith, If thou wilt enter 
 into life, keep the commandments. But as all men are not 
 tempted to the iranfgrelfion of the fame commandments, 
 and few or none to the tranfgreflion of them all i left any 
 man fhould think himfelf excufable in the breach of (bme, 
 while he keeps the reft, St. James gives him to underftand, 
 that whofoever fhall keep the whole law^ and yet offend iu 
 one pointy is guilty of ally for he thatfaid. Do not commit 
 adultery., faid alfo. Do not kill. He who tranfgrefles any 
 one law of God, tramples on the authority of the Law- 
 giver ; and it is only for want of inclination, not of dif- 
 refpe(fb for God, if he does not violate all the reft. 
 
 But although it is certain, that, in ftrid: juftice, all tranf- 
 grefllons of God's law render us liable to the puniftiment, 
 yet we are not to defpair on falling into fin, becaufe our 
 covenant of peace with God is a covenant of mercy, as 
 well as works, eftablifhed between a gracious Maker, who 
 knows the temptations, wherewith we are befet j and frail 
 creatures, who cannot, always ftand upright. If 2X1 our 
 righteoufneffes are as filthy rags ; z/, after we have done all 
 we can, we are unprofitable fervants, and cannot, by our 
 bert performances, merit the joys of heaven j neither ihall 
 I our 
 
i6 The Covenant of^edce 
 
 our word adions fmk us into the pit of mifery, If we repent 
 and amend. It is not on the footing of our own, but 
 Chrlft's righteoufnefs, that we are to be faved. He that 
 is without fin, may claim falvation of his own goodnefs, 
 and bring in God as his debtor ; for to him that worketb 
 is the reward^ not reckoned of grace, but of debt \ hut to 
 us who work not, but believe on him that jujiifieth the un- 
 godly, our faith is counted for righteoufnefs in the fight of 
 God, who deals with us as children whom his Son hath re- 
 deemed from the punifhment of fin by his precious blood, 
 not rigoroufly exacting juftice, but gracioufly extending 
 mercy. There is none who is righteous, none who is good^, 
 but God ; yet he who is comparatively called the righte- 
 ous man, falls feven times a day ; but he does not, like 
 the reprobate, fin through malicious wickednefs, nor fall, 
 but through infirmity j and, when he does fall, he rifes 
 again in a fincere repentance, with new refolution. 
 While he endeavours to render his great Matter all due 
 allegiance and obedience, and fi;iil keeps the field, with 
 all his fl:rength, againfl: his enemies, he is, no doubt, the 
 objedt of mercy, although the difcharge of his duty 
 fhould be attended with much imperfe<5tion -, although 
 he (hould be often worfl:ed, yet as long as he does not 
 fubmit, he is ftill on God*s fide, and under his banner. 
 An unfuccefsful battle is not a fufficient caufe why fo gra- 
 cious a commander (hould caft him off for ever. There 
 is great difference between a defeat, if it is not total, 
 and a treacherous revolt, or a bafe fubmiflion. 
 
 However, we muft not fuffer this do6lrine, fweet as it 
 is true, to encourage us to careleffnefs in fin ; but muft 
 make it our chief motive to repentance. We are not to 
 defpife the richnefs of God^s goodnefs, and forbearance, and 
 long-fuffering, as if we knew not that the goodnefs of God 
 leadeth, or inviteth, us to repentance. We mufi; not^ af^ 
 ter our hardnefs, and impenitent heart, treafure up unto our- 
 felves wrath againfl the day of wrath, and revelation of the 
 righteous judgment of God; who will render to every man 
 according to his deeds ; to them, who, by patient continuance 
 in well-doing, feek for glory, and honour, and immortalt- 
 ty, eternal life j but unto them that are contentious, and 
 
 do 
 
ivlth God in Chrifl Jefus. 17 
 
 do not Xihey the truths hut obey unrighteoufnefs, indignation 
 and wrath, tribulation and anguiJJj, upon every foul of man 
 that doth evil', but glory, honour^ and peace, to every 
 man that workethgood. We are ftill, in the midft of all 
 our foothing hopes of mercy, to remember, that our vows 
 are folemnly pledged to God in baptifm for a faith and 
 praftice as conformable to the conditions of our cove- 
 nant, as we can pofllbly make them. If, through a 
 miferable fondnefs for our own ways, and a miftakea 
 over-ftretch of God's fuppofed compaffion, we fin wil- 
 fully, after that we have received the knowlege of the truth, 
 there remaineth no more facrifice for fins, but a certain fear- 
 ful locking for of judgment, and fiery indignation, which fhall 
 devour the adverfaries. He that defpifed Mofes law, died 
 without mercy ; of hoiv much for er -punifhment, fuppofe ye, 
 fhall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under-foot 
 the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant 
 wherewith he was fanEiified, an unholy thing, and hath 
 done defpite unto the Spirit of Grace ? Although all this 
 fbuts not the door againft repentance for fms committed 
 after baptifm -, yet it is fufficient to fhew us the necefilty 
 0^ fianding fafi in that faith we engaged for, and walk- 
 ing in thofe commandments we promifed to keep, by an 
 awful vow, when we entered into covenant with God ; 
 for we fee, that by a final falling away from this covenant, 
 in either refpedl, we trample on the Son of God •, we pro- 
 fane the holy covenant -, we infult the Spirit of God-, and 
 confequently replunge ourfelves into a ftate of war and 
 enmity with the Almighty Being, infomuch that wc arc 
 here called his adverfaries, and threatened, as fuch, with 
 fearful judgments, and fiery indignation. It had been in- 
 finitely better for us to have continued in our natural 
 ftate, born in fin, and the children of wrath ^ o\ account of 
 Adam\ fin and our own, than to have fi-med againft. the 
 light, againft a folemn contra6b, voluntarily entered into 
 with Almighty God, and feaied, on his fide, with the 
 blood of his Son ; and on ours, by an avs^ful vow. It 
 had indeed been better for us, as St. Peter fays, not to have 
 known the way of righteoufnefs, than, after we have known 
 it, to turn from the holy commandrncnt delivered unto us. 
 Vol. II. C We 
 
1 8 The Covenant of Peace 
 
 We ought to confider, that this is not a covenant, con- 
 trary to our nature, and impofed on us by another, for his 
 own good, and not ours ; but that its conditions are ab- 
 Iblutely necefiary to purify our nature, and prepare us for 
 happincis ; that as fuch, we freely choie to make them 
 the foundation of peace with God •, that they are therefore 
 laws of our own enading, although God firft drew them 
 up, and propofed them -, that they are to us truly a law 
 of liberty^ becaufe we gave them the force of laws in re- 
 fpecl to ouifelves, by our own voluntary ratification -, and 
 that, on all thefe accounts, it would be foohfh, prepofte- 
 rous, and impious, to the higheft degree, in us, to flight 
 them, by a cool or partial obfervation of them, fince 
 God hath put it in our power to treat them with a more 
 fuitable refpedt. 
 
 To conclude therefore; let us make the articles of this 
 moft interefting covenant the fubjeft of deep and con- 
 tinual med tations. Let us refleft, that our eternal hap- 
 pinefs abfolucely depends on the obfervation, and our 
 eternal mifery infallibly purfues the tranfgreflion, of it. 
 Let us confider, what it coft to procure this contrafl ; no 
 lefs than the blood of Chrift, the eternal, the only-be- 
 gotten. Son of God. Let us confider, that it is with the 
 awful God we have exchanged promifes in this import- 
 ant treaty of peace. With our thoughts intenfely ftretch- 
 ed on thefe reflexions, let us fear and tremble exceeding- 
 ly before God, on the review of all our pafl: tranfgreflions ; 
 and, in the flrength of this fear, deepened by a truly pa- 
 nitential forrow, improved by an ingenuous fhame, and 
 lifted above defpair by an ardent love of God, let us, 
 now at length, like true champions for God, for Religion, 
 for Heaven, refolutely addrefs ourfelves to the pertorm- 
 ance of our vows. 
 
 And, in order to a fuccefsful accomplifhment of this 
 arduous warfare, may the gracious Captain of our fal- 
 vaticn be pleafed to bcftow on us the whole armour of God^ 
 and the powerful aids of his Holy Spirit •, that we^ hehig 
 delivered out of the hands of our enemies^ and more than 
 conquerors^ through him that loved us^ may ferve him 
 henceforth ivilhout fear^ in holinefs and righteoufnefs be^ 
 
 fore 
 
with God in Chrifi Jefus, 1 9 
 
 fore him all the days of our life. And now., To the hleje4 
 and only Potentate, the King of kings, and Lord of lordsy 
 who only hath immortality, dwelling in the light which no 
 man can approach unto, whom no man hath feen^ or canftCy 
 ie honour and power everlafiing. Amen, 
 
 C 2 DIS- 
 
[ 20 ] 
 
 DISCOURSE II. 
 
 The Covenant of Peace renewed and 
 continued. 
 
 1 Cor. xi. 28. 
 
 Let a man exainlne bimfelf, and fo let htm eat of 
 that Breads and drink of that Cup. 
 
 AMong all the wife fayings of the antlent phllo- 
 fophers, none is fo much, or fo juftly, admired, 
 as this, Knozv thyfelf. Real knowlege, in all its branches, 
 is the moil ufeful and ornamental poirefTion we can pof- ' 
 fibly attain to. Without neceflfary knowlege, a man is 
 but a brute or idiot -, without fome knowlege of civility, 
 and of the arts and fciences, he is but a clown. But ne- 
 cefiary knowlege is firft to be acquired ; then that which 
 is ufeful •, and afterwards that which is ornamental. Of 
 the firft, fome articles are more necelfary than others -, for 
 inftance, the knowleg'e of God, and ourfelves. Yet, in 
 a very numerous clafs of men, curiofity and pride have 
 advanced the lad kin;^ of knowlege into the place of the 
 iirft, and preferred parade to necefTity. They know all 
 manner of perfons and things, but God : They know 
 what pafTds every-where, but in themfelves : Their minds 
 are dieted on the frothy part of learning ; but are ftrangers 
 to man's meat, or folid food j and often even to milk, ike ' 
 UGiiriJhment of babes. 
 
 Fev? 
 
The Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 1 1 
 
 Few men have time to lay out on the purfult of much 
 knowlege -, and of thofe that have, the greater part are 
 rendered unhappy, or ridigulous, by always hunting for 
 deep or remote refinements -, and fo continue, through 
 their whole lives, fhamefully ignorant of themfelves. 
 Their minds are always at the windows, looking out this 
 way for impertinent fpeculations, and that way for the 
 follies and vices of their neighbours ; while all within the 
 houfe is in diforder and confufion. Thefe ramblers in 
 knowlege fpend their lives in inquiries made at a vafl: 
 diftance from themfelves, and come at lafl to be wonder- 
 fully knowing in every thing, but that which it concerns 
 them moft to know, the neceflary means of their own 
 prefent quiet, and future happinefs, that is, the knowlege 
 of God and his will, as fet forth in the Chriftian cove- 
 nant ; and the knowlege of themfelves, of their capacities, 
 and difpofitions. Knov.'lege, however, like charity, fhould 
 begin at home. A man ought firfl to know himfelf, and 
 his duty, together with all the helps necefTary to the per- 
 formance of his duty -, and then it will be time enough for 
 him to go a fporting with his curiofity. 
 
 We fee how much pains they, who govern kingdoms, 
 are at, in reading the hiftories of various countries, more 
 efpecially their own ■, how they ftudy the talents and tem- 
 pers of men ; how they labour to find out what in human 
 nature requires reftraint ; what, encouragement •, what, 
 direftion ; what, amendment ; what, total fuppreffion. 
 And does any man think he fliall be able to govern him- 
 felf, without making himfelf his ftudy ? Is he fo ftupid an 
 idiot as not to have perceived, that this, which is really 
 a great and myfterious branch of knowlege, requires fome 
 application? Surely he cannot hope to govern himfelf 
 rightly for the future, if he knows not what fort of a 
 man he hath hitherto been, is now, or may be hereafter. 
 It is, of all things, moft necefTary he fhould be well 
 Ikiiled in the hiftory of himfelf, of his palTions, his weak- 
 nefs, his defeds of underftanding, his depravity of will, 
 his corruption of heart, which have hitherto betrayed him 
 into all the fins and miferies of his life. If he retained a 
 feeling fenfe of his former mifcarriages, he would not be 
 
 C 3 |0 
 
% 2 ^he Coi)ena7it of Peace renewed and cojitmued. 
 
 fo ready to throw himfelf in the way of thofe fnares, in 
 which he hath already fmarted. A bird, once caught, 
 prefer ves an ufeful memory of the gin : In vain is the 
 fame net, at leaft, fpread in the fight of the fame bird. 
 But the man, who knows not himfelf, is not fb cautious. 
 He derives no advantage from his years. While his back 
 bends, and his head whitens, with age, he is dill young 
 and green in point of prudence, becaufe, after a thoufand 
 experiments, he hath laid up no flock of experience, is 
 ftill unacquainted with himfelf. 
 
 Whofoever knows not the principles of thofe he trufts, 
 or deals with, hath nothing, but his good fortune, to 
 thank for it, if he knows them not at laft to his coft. 
 
 Whofoever knows not the ftate of his own accounts 
 and affairs, can never regulate his expences -, may ftarve in 
 plenty, or riot in want ; and, whtn neceflity at length 
 forces him to look into his circumftances, how muft he 
 be fhocked to find his whole condud utterly unconform- 
 able to the ftate of his affairs ! 
 
 But whofoever knows not himfelf, is the mofl defpicable 
 and miferable fort of fool, becaufe he is ignorant of one 
 with whom he is to confult and tranfafl every thing, and 
 en whom he mufl of nece(!ity rely. How is he grieved 
 to find his judgment impofed on, his meafures baffled, 
 his refolucions broken, and all his fchemes defeated, not 
 by another, not by an enemy, but by himfelf ! May he not 
 fay, on fuch occafions, Had mine enemy done this, I cmld 
 have home it ? Nay, he may go farther than the Pfalmifl ; 
 for he may juflly fay, Had my familiar friend betrayed me^ 
 and magnified himfelf againji me, I might have taken care 
 to guard againft his treachery for the future, and hid myfelf 
 from him. But it was thou, my infeparable companion, my 
 guide, with whom I took fweet counfel (fweet indeed! but 
 deflrudive), with whom I walked to the houfe of God, who 
 prefcribed all my defires and defigns, who diftated even my 
 devotions to mc , it was thou, my own heart, that haft un- 
 done me. Thou art deceitful above all things^ and defpe- 
 rately wicked ; how (hall I know thee ? When the con- 
 duel, neceffary to my happinefs, requires courage in thee, 
 ^hou art fearful and irrefolute ; when it requires caution, 
 
 I thqy 
 
^e Covenant of Peace renewed and coiitifiutd. 2^ 
 
 thou arc rafli and giddy; when perfcverancc, thou art 
 fickle and unfteady ; when change and reformation, thou 
 art obftinate and hardened. Wich what light fhall I 
 fearch into thy dark corners ? Or with what armour fhall 
 1 defend myfeif againfl: an enemy, that lurks within even 
 the Jhield of faith ^ the helmet of falvation^ and the brmfi- 
 flate of righteoufnefs ? Thus grievoufly hath he reafon to 
 exclaim againft himiclf, who knows not himfelf, whofe 
 heart is a ftrjnger to his head. 
 
 It is far otherwife with him who knows himfelf, bccaufe 
 he can oblige his faculties and paflions to aifl in concert ; 
 or, if there are fome that v;ill difTent, and grow refradory, 
 he knows how to be on his guard againfb them. He 
 knows how far he can fafely truft to the ftrength of his 
 underftanding, and where inftrucflion becomes neceffary. 
 He knows where his inward traitors are wont to hold a 
 dangerous correfpondence, and how to keep a watchful 
 eye on their motions. He can fee the faithful friend 
 through the frowns of confcience, and can even court its 
 admonitions. He can fee the treacherous enemy through 
 the fmiles of defire and pleafurc ; and, armed with a lively 
 remembrance of pall lapfes, pad corre<5tions, paft re- 
 morfes, can fhun the ruinous delufion. 
 
 But it may now be afked, how the neceflary knowlege 
 of ourfelves is to be acquired ? Philofophy only bids us 
 know ourfelves, as fuppofing every m.an acquainted with 
 the methods whereby this may be effected •, fuch, in par- 
 ticular, as attention to what paffes within him, and rc- 
 fleflion on what he thought, fpoke, or did, under fuch 
 or fuch circumftances. But the Scriptures go further. 
 They advife us to fearch and try cur own ways, and to 
 examine ourfelves. I'hcy alfo propofe to us the articles of 
 our covenant as the rules by which this examination is to 
 be managed. And, left care and diligence fliould be 
 wanting in creatures fo averfe to the feveritles of a reli- 
 gious felf-examination, likely, as oiten as made, to end in 
 repentance and mortincation, they tell us, every one of us 
 fhall give an account of himfelf to God ; which we know 
 cannot be done, as becomes reafonable beings, under co- 
 venant, if we do not often call ourfelves to a fair and 
 
 C 4 ftria; 
 
a 4 TJoe-Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 
 
 ftrid account before our confciences for the performance 
 or non-performance of what we vowed when we made 
 peace with God/ But, that a matter of fo much confe- 
 quence as felf-examination may be enforced with fome- 
 . thing more than precept, our Lord hath appointed a fo- 
 lemn and facred commemoration of his death in the holy 
 Eucharift ; which we are, as often as we poffibiy can, to 
 celebrate, from the time we come to the years of difcre- 
 tion, until he removes us from this world ; which, how- 
 ever, we cannot celebrate otherwife, than at the rifk of our 
 own falvation, without a careful and thorough exa- 
 mination of ourfelves, as the Apoftle tells us in the paff- 
 age, of which my text makes a part. 
 
 Now, although he does not there point out to us, how, 
 or in what particulars, we are to examine ourfelves, in 
 order to a worthy participation of our Lord's body and 
 blood ; yet we can be at no lofs for directions on the oc- 
 cafion, fince we cannot fail to perform the intention of 
 the Holy Spirit, if we examine ourfelves on the articles of 
 our baptifmal covenant, which contain all our religion re- 
 quires of us either to believe or pradife. Befidcs, this 
 method of examination is plainly enough hinted to us by 
 our bleffed Saviour, who faid, when he gave the cup, 
 ^his is my blood of the new tejiament, or covenant. If it is 
 to us that blood, by which he purchafed the covenant of 
 peace for us ; if it is called the blood of the covenant^ of 
 the everlafling covenant ; then does it loudly call on us, as 
 often as we purpofe to receive it, to think ferioufly en 
 that covenant -, to found the examination, recommended 
 by the Apoftle, on the articles of that covenant ; and, 
 whereinfoever we find our paft lives unconformable to it, 
 no doubt it muft be our duty to repent, and refolve on a 
 more ftrift obfervance of our vow for the time to come. 
 
 There is no feparating the two facraments, which 
 flowed together from Chrift*s fide, pierced by the fpear, 
 in the form of blood and water ; becaufe our covenant is 
 equally contained in both. The facrament of baptifm in- 
 troduces us to a covenant of peace with God. The fa- 
 crament of the Lord's fupper keeps up our attention to 
 this covenant, and enables us to ftand f^ft in it. How 
 " ' can 
 
^he Covenant of Peace renewed and continued, 2 ^ 
 
 can any man prefume to fay, the former is, and the latter 
 is not, the covenant, when the former is no-where exprefly 
 called by that Name, whereas Chrift, when he inftituted 
 the latter, faid. This cup is the new covenant in my blood ; 
 when die death of Chrift, by which God is reconciled to 
 US, is the very thing applied to us in both ; for if, by the 
 one, we JJkw forth the Lord's death till he come, by the 
 other we are buried with him in death ; and when that 
 peace, which is begun in the firft, is improved into an 
 union with God in the laft? Merely as to the^bufinefs of 
 covenanting, the fecond facrament is no more than the 
 firft, continued on, under a different form ; for in both we 
 are cleanfed from our fins by the blood of Chrift, and re- 
 ftored to peace and favour in the fight of God j the exa- 
 mination therefore, preparatory to the fecond, muft turn 
 on the articles ftipulated in the firft. In this behalf they 
 are but one and the fame thing, and require the fame pre- 
 paration. 
 
 As therefore felf-examination, by the rule of the Chri- 
 ftian covenant, is either the very remedy, prefcribed by 
 the Apoftle, againft the ftn of an unworthy receiving, and 
 the danger of damnation, or equivalent to it •, v/e cannot 
 help looking on it as the firft necelTary ftep to the per- 
 formance of that folemn duty, which leals, applies, and 
 confirms to us, all the benefits of Chrift's death, on God's 
 part ; and on ours ratifies and renews the covenant of 
 peace, which, by our fins after baptifm, we had tranf- 
 greffed. As the natural enmity between God and us is 
 recalled by fuch fins, either there is no inftituted a6l, 
 whereby peace may be reftored, after the covenant hath 
 been broken, which would give us a frightful idea of 
 Chriftianity ; or the facrament of the Lord's fupper is 
 fuch an adi. I fay, frightful, becaufe there is no man that 
 finneth not •, infomuch that if we Chriftians, not excepting 
 the very beft of us, fay we have no fin, we deceive our- 
 felves^ and the truth is not in us. Now, as the peace is 
 daily broken by our fins, does it not require fome infti- 
 tution equivalent to baptifm, a facrament that cannot be 
 repeated, to aflfure the reftoration of peace, if it may be 
 5it ail reftored ? And what other inftitution is there, on 
 
 which 
 
26 ^he Covenant of Fence renewed and continued. 
 
 which we may build the hope of fuch a reftoration, but 
 the facrament of the Lord's fupper, in which that blood, 
 whereby remiflion of fin was obtained, and whereby the 
 covenant is confirmed to us, is received ? If the covenant, 
 once broken, cannot be renewed, then it is a dreadful co- 
 venant of works only, and not of grace^ mercy ^ and •peace. 
 But, if it may be renewed, common fenfe will tell us it 
 muft be by a folemnity as facred, and as important, as 
 that of the covenant itfelf, to which a thorough refolution 
 of amendment, particularly as to the ad of tranfgreflion, 
 muft, of neceflity, be preparatory ; andnothing but a ftridt 
 and fevere examination of ourfelves can lead the way to 
 fuch a refolution. Now, the importance of fin, and en- 
 mity with God, on the one fide ; and of peace with him, 
 on the other j makes all this neceflfary, that we may not 
 be tempted to prefume on too eafy terms of forgivenels. 
 We may repent, we may be pardoned, we may be re- 
 ceived again into peace, and be reunited to God, by a 
 participation of that cup^ which is the cojmnunion of the 
 blood of Chriji, and of that breads which is the communion 
 of the body of Chriji \ but not without a renewal of that 
 covenant and vow, which alone can give us peace with 
 God, and which we have tranfgrefTed. 
 
 Hence it appears, that all we can hope for, as Chriftians, 
 depends abfolutely on our baptifmal covenant ; that, 
 after tranfgreffing this covenant, all our hopes depend on 
 a renewal of it in the facrament of our Lord's fupper ; 
 that no fuch renewal can be made without the renunciation 
 6f God's enemies, without the faith and repentance pro- 
 mifed in the covenant itfelf; and that, if we prefume to 
 approach the table of the Lord, before we have tho- 
 roughly examined whether we can bring thefe requifite 
 conditions with us, we do not come to make peace with, 
 but war on, God, by an infult as formal and folemn, as 
 the humility and devotion expedled of us on that great 
 occafion. To this horrible crime the Spirit of God, 
 fpeaking by St. Paul^ threatens damnation : Whofoever 
 fhall eat this breads and drink this cup of the Lord^ ««- 
 'worthily, fhall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord. 
 But let a man examine himfelfy and fo let him eat of this 
 
 brecid.^ 
 
The Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 2 j 
 
 hread, and drink of this cup •, for he that eateth and drink- 
 etb unworthily^ eateth and drinketh damnation to himfelfy 
 not difcerning the Lor^s body i and, if he repents not, 
 muft furely perifh. The beft man (lands in continual 
 need of this examination, becaufe, let his life be never fo 
 free from fin, he is not to look on himfelf as abfolutely 
 fafe. He is therefore by no means to venture on fmall fins, 
 in hopes to check and flop himfelf, before he proceeds to 
 greater. There are certain occafions, wherein even a good 
 man may as well hope to rcHrain the winds and (lorms, 
 as his pafiions, once they are let loofe. The enormity 
 of great fins keeps recolledion always awake in a confci- 
 entious mind. But fmall offences, which the tempter 
 makes ufe of as fleps to the greatefl crimes, are too eafily 
 overlooked, and lofb in our account. Here therefore a 
 daily examination becomes necefTary. Now fuch exa- 
 minations ought to be quickened with this alarming con- 
 fideration, that he who tolerates in himfelf the committal 
 of fmall fins, hath reafon to fear left God fhould defert 
 him, as one who prefumptuoufly fets up his own flrength, 
 and gives himfelf a difpenfation in things forbidden by 
 God. 
 
 Having now feen how much depends on our examining 
 ourfelves by the articles of our covenant ; how often, and 
 how folemnly, we are called to this necefTary work of 
 felf-infpedion ; and that, in cafe we negleft it, we either 
 give up our covenant with God, or attempt to renew it by 
 a crime as provoking in his fight, as any other that can 
 make a renewal requifite ; need I further prtfs you to the 
 duty ? If this is not fufficient, what can the wit of man, 
 or even the word of God, fay more to move you ? 
 
 I cannot, however, proceed, without making one remark 
 on the prefent general inattention to the Chriflrian cove- 
 nant, at which, I fear, few ears in this congregation will 
 pot have reafon to tingle. If infinite numbers, profefTing 
 Chriflianity in words, do flatly deny it in their adions ; if 
 they give God only the fervice of their lips, while all they 
 think, or do, demonflrates a clofe league between them 
 ' and his enemy, we mufl conclude, their covenant with 
 God is utterly diflblved, ^nd wrath, four-fold wrath, re- 
 newed. 
 
2 8 The Covenant of Peace renewed and continued, 
 
 newed. God is not a man, that he fhould be deceived by 
 mere appearances •, nor will his infinite majefty fufFer itfelf 
 to be mocked with the empty formality of a covenant, 
 with the fprinkling of water, and the fwallowing of bread 
 and wine, which are but the outward figns and fhadows 
 of the facraments : no ; his facraments are inward things, 
 fpiritual inftruments, whereby the heart mufl be purified, 
 and the afi^eftions exalted, and placed on things above, the 
 manners reformed, and the whole man confecrated, in 
 the ardours of a rational and lively devotion, to thefervice 
 of God. On whom hath the covenant this eff^eft? In 
 whom is it a motive of the fmalleft confequence to a good 
 life ? Who remembers that heaven and hell depend on 
 his contrad widi God •, that he cannot tranfgrefs it with- 
 out treachery, rebellion, and perjury ; or that, if he does, 
 he is again where his degenerate nature placed him, that 
 is, in a ftate of enmity with an Almighty Being ? Of all 
 things it is moft abfolutely neceflary to every Chriftian, 
 that he fiiould fix his attention ftrongly and conflantly on 
 the awful covenant between God and him. Here he mufb 
 look for both the rules and motives of his duty. Here he 
 mull look for the laws by which he is to be judged. On 
 the obfervation of this fhould he build all his hopes ; and, 
 from the tranfgrefllon of it, derive all his fears. It fhould 
 therefore be written, not on the lintels and pods of his 
 door, but on his heart, that it may be ready on all occa- 
 fions to unmafk his enemies, and their arts \ that it may 
 rife with every paffion and affeftion ; that it may prefent 
 itfelf to his apprehenfions with every temptation. Inftead 
 of this (how can we fpeak of it without horror ?), this 
 facred covenant, this folemn vow, this bleffed peace, pur- 
 chafed with the blood of our Redeemer, and enriched 
 with the glorious inheritance of heaven, is either never 
 thought of, or thought of as an empty ceremony. Hence 
 all the wickednefs of the Chriftian world, and the lofs of 
 all thofe fouls that carry the name of Chrift, and yet travel 
 downward on the broad way to deftruction. But enough 
 of this Ihocking fubjedt. 
 
 Having faid what I thought neceflary on the duty of 
 felf-examinatioiij and the great danger of unworthily re- 
 ceiving 
 
The Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 25? 
 
 ceiving the facrament of the Lord's fupper, in order to 
 prevent that fin ', it is now time to fay fomething con- 
 cerning the fin and danger of neglefling to receive that 
 facrament. 
 
 But here it will be proper to obferve, that the duty of 
 receiving is founded on an exprefs commandment of Chrifl; 
 and is therefore bound on our confciences, not only by 
 the divine authority of the Lawgiver, but by the force of 
 our baptifmal vow, which obliges us to keep all the com- 
 mandments of God. Now, although the Scriptures have 
 no-where told us, how often in our lives, or in each par- 
 ticular year, we are to receive this facrament, perhaps be- 
 caufe it is an aft of gratitude, and therefore, fo far, beft 
 left to our own difcretion and voluntary acknowlegements ; 
 yet we m^y eafily gather, both from the nature of the 
 thing, and from the word of God, that we ought to re- 
 ceive as often as we have an opportunity, that is, as oftea 
 as it is adr:inifl:red in the place where v/e live. 
 
 This muft undoubtedly be our duty, if the facrament 
 of the Lord's fupper is confidered as a repetition and re- 
 newal of our covenant with God j becaufe we daily tranf-» 
 grefs the covenant more or lefs, and thereby proportion- 
 ably revive the natural enmity between God and us ; 
 from v.?hence,it will follow, that if he is pleafed, in his 
 infinite compaiTion for our infirmities, to indulge us, by 
 any means, the recovery of peace and favolir with him, 
 we mufi: be extremely wanting, both in our duty to him 
 and ourfelves, if we do not fly to thofe means, as often as 
 they are afforded. To decline this is, for the time, either 
 to flight the covenant, with its privileges, or to negleft the 
 fafety of our own fouls ; it is to declare for our fins, and 
 againfl: God ; it is to ren-w the peace v/ith them, and the 
 war with him. It is true there is no man ha-dy enough to 
 mean all this by his not receiving ; b'jr every one, who 
 is guilty of this fin, knows full well the ht^inoufnefs and 
 danger of it, as here fet forth ; and a'l the excufe to be 
 made for him is, that he does not think it worth his while 
 to trouble himfelf much about either ; that is, it is a 
 matter of no great confequence to him, whether he is at 
 peace or war with God ; but, in the mean time> of the 
 
 two, 
 
3 o 7'he Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 
 
 two, he prefers the latter, becaufe otherwife he cannot 
 enjoy the pleafures of fin ; he cannot purfue his lufts, his 
 refentments, his fraudulent fchemes. Well, but he does 
 not take the thing in this light ; he is inattentive and 
 thoughtlefs on the fubjed. Thoughtlefs ! what, about his 
 vow ! about peace with the God of vengeance ! How can 
 he be thoughtlefs, when heaven and hell are at ftake! 
 How dare he be thoughtlefs, when God is concerned ! 
 Does he fhew himfelf fo ftupid about worldly affairs ? 
 How often did he lofe a {billing, or a bottle of wine, 
 merely for want of thought ? When did he lofe the friend- 
 lliip of a fuperior by failing to dine with him on the day 
 of invitation ? Men may talk lightly, and think more 
 lightly than they talk, on a fubjedl of this kind •, but it is 
 impofiible they fhould ever do fo, without a ftrong 
 tindure of praflical atheifm at the bottom ; for where 
 there is but a very low degree of faith, fuch points, al- 
 though never {\d faintly believed, are of a nature too in- 
 terefting, and too alarming, to be trifled with in fuch a 
 manner. He then who makes a praftice of abfenting 
 himfelf from the Lord's table, is a covenant-breaker, is 
 not at peace with God, is cut off from Chrift •, and whe- 
 ther he fortifies himfelf, for the prefent, againft com- 
 pundtion, in want of thought, or in a wrong way of think- 
 ing, he will one day find, that God is not to be trifled 
 with ; and that defpair itfelf had been better, than his pre- 
 fent fenfele's calm of mind. While he wilfully abfents 
 himfelf from the Lord's table, he lofes fight of himfelf, 
 and of the covenant ; and which way he is going, whe- 
 ther upward or downward, he neither can polfibly know, 
 nor does he care : all he can know is, that he is not in 
 his duty to God, or his foul : but on this glimpfe of know- 
 lege he will not dwell, left it (hould give him a view of 
 his danger, and difiurb him in his courfe of fin. Imagina-- 
 tion cannot conceive a mind in a more fhocking fituation 
 than this, wherein the whole of religion hath lofl its hold 
 on the confcience ; and confcience its influence over the 
 conduft of the man. 
 
 The next thing, which (hould make us confl:ant com- 
 municants, is, the confideration, that this facrament is the 
 
 food 
 
^he Covenant of Peace renewed a?jd contmued. 3 i 
 
 food of the foul. The foul, as well as the body, hath its 
 proper health and life, which depend on fuftenance pecu- 
 liar to it. Its health confifts in piety and virtue ; its life, 
 in peace with God. The food, neceflary to keep it in an 
 healthful ftate, is the grace of God, conmmunicated to it, 
 through the covenant, by his word, and in his ordinances ; 
 particularly this facrament, which, our Saviour affures us, 
 is meat indeed^ and drink indeed^ for the foul. By felf- 
 examination we know when we want, and when we are fit 
 to receive, this food ; by meditation we digeft it ; and by 
 the difcharge of our duty in all its branches, of faith and 
 obedience towards God, of charity and juftice towards 
 men, and of vigilance and purity in ourfelves, we exer- 
 cife the principles and powers that are fed by the fpiritual 
 nourifhment. 
 
 Now he, who knows any thing of his own mind, mufl: 
 be fenfible, his piety and virtue cannot long fubfift on one 
 meal, no more than the health and Itrcngth of his body. 
 If vigilance and felf-examination are, for a confiderablc 
 time, omitted, temptations will Ileal in, and repeated fins 
 fwell the account againft him. Hence bad habits, like 
 weeds, will fpring up, and choak the good feed fown in 
 his heart. In the mean tjme his devotions cool, his re- 
 folutions flag, and the portion of grace he had received, 
 infenfibly dies away for want of new recruits. Hence 
 alfo an habitual diftafle and dilrelifh of every thing that is 
 good arifes, and throws the foul into a ficldy and !an- 
 guifhing condition. Infinite wifdom and goodnefs hath 
 given us the facrament of the Lord's fuppsr, as the grand 
 remedy againft both thefe evils. The examinations, the 
 meditations, the refolutions, it calls us to, turning on the 
 great points of faith, repentance, and charity, to which 
 we are bound by covenant and vow, are wonderfully fitted 
 to prepare us for, and the grace of God, on wh ch w'c 
 feed in this holy ordinance, is equally well calculated to 
 flay us up in, that healthful and happy frame of mind, to 
 which eternal life is promifed, and indeed naturally an- 
 nexed. 'This is the bread which came down from heaven, 
 that a man may eat thereof and not die, I am the living 
 bread J faith Chriil, "jjhich came dcwn from heaven, if 
 
 any 
 
3 i The Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 
 
 any man eat of this bread, he JJjall live for ever : and the 
 bread that I will give is my flefh^ which I will give for the 
 life of the world. Verily, verily, I fay unto you, except 
 ye eat the fleJJj of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye 
 have no life in you. Whofo eateth my flefj, and drinketh 
 my blood, hath eternal life ; for my fiefh is meat indeed, 
 and my blood is drink indeed. He that eateth my flejh, and 
 drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him. What 
 tongue of men, or angels, is able to exprefs the benefit and 
 neceflity of this facrament in words fo ftrong as thefe ? 
 The fpiritual health, and eternal life of the foul, are here 
 reprefented, as depending abfolutely on it. We live for 
 ever, if we receive this food ; we perilh for ever, if we do 
 not. We are united to Chrift, if we take this holy fa- 
 crament ; we are cut off from him, if we decline it. But 
 may nOt one receiving anfwer the end ? Can one meal of 
 ordinary food fupport our bodies during a life of feventy 
 years ? Why is this holy ordinance at all repeated, if 
 once receiving will do .f* I have already fhewn the ufe of 
 this facrament, as a continuation of the covenant, and as 
 food for the foul, by fuch reafons, and by fuch ex- 
 prefTions of our bleffed Saviour, as cannot poffibly deceive 
 us. Confidered therefore in either light, it cannot be too 
 often repeated. We cannot too often examine the ftate 
 of our own minds. We cannot too often repent of our 
 fins, and refolve to lead a better life. We cannot too 
 often renew and confirm our covenant of peace with God. 
 We cannot too often, nor too plendfully, receive the grace, 
 or fpiritual fuftenance, on which the health and life of our 
 fouls depend. We cannot therefore too often, nor too 
 carefully, nor too devoutly, receive the facrament of the 
 Lord's fupper. 
 
 The third confideration, arifing from the nature of this 
 facrament, and calling us to conftant communion, is gra- 
 titude for the death of our Redeemer, whereby we were 
 bought, as with a price, from the eternal punifnment of 
 fin. This was the com prehen five, this the tender and af- 
 ftcfting end, for which he inftituted his lail fupper. I fay 
 comprehenfive, becaufe it is impoffible gratefully to com' 
 memorate the death of Chrift, without anfwering, at the 
 
 3 ' fame 
 
l^he Covenant of Peace renewed and conthiucd. 3 3 
 
 fame time, all the other ends of the inflitution. He who 
 receives this Ik rainent, before he hath diligently examined 
 himfelf by the articles of the covenant, and found his heart 
 animated with a fettled hatred to fin, and a firm relbkirion 
 to glorify his Redeemer by a new life and converfation, 
 and his underftanding thoroughly convinced of the funda- 
 mental truths taught him by the holy Scriptures, inftead 
 of {hewing himfelf grateful, or doing any honour, to his 
 Saviour, does but -put him to open Jhame, does but crucify 
 him afrejh, and is therefore guilty of the body and blood of 
 the Lord^ becaufe he rends his body, and pours out his 
 blood, like a JeWj without faith, without love, without 
 repentance, and reformation of manners. I likewife call 
 the grateful commemoration of Chrift's death an affefting 
 end of this facred inftitution, becaufe, being about to die 
 for us, he ordained this holy facrament, and faid, This do 
 in remembrance of me •, as often as ye eat this breads and 
 drink this cup, ye do fhew the Lord's deaths till he come. A 
 worthy mind is ever on the watch for opportunities of 
 teflifying its gratitude for the favours it hath received. If 
 thofe favours are fuch as it can never poffibly repay ; if 
 they are too great to be returned ; and if the benefactor 
 either cannot, or will not, admit a benefit by way of re- 
 quital ; how is the grateful heart pained and diftrefled 
 under the fenfe cf fo much goodnefs, till the benefactor is 
 plcafcd to appoint fome method, by which its thanks may 
 be expreffed ! This is exadly the cafe between Chrift, and 
 his grateful difciple. Chrift died the reproachful and 
 painkil death of a flavc, to lave the Chriftian from the 
 eternal punifhment of his fins, and to bring him to that 
 endlefs happinefs and glory, which no human righteouf- 
 nefs can ever merit. This obligation the Chriftian can 
 never pay. But were the obligation fmall enough in itielf 
 to be returned by man, yet how could the return be made 
 to Chrift, who is God, and conftquently can receive no 
 benefit from his creatures } Here the infinite bencfadlor, 
 unv/illing to encourage the ingratitude of fome, or too 
 much to diftrefsthe generous hearts of others, by ihutting 
 the door againft all acknowlegements, fays, " As 1 2m going 
 *' to die for you all, i deiire you may all eat this bread, in 
 Vol. II. D ** remem- 
 
4 ^ke Covenant of Peace renewed and continued, 
 
 '' remembrance of my body torn, and drink this wine, 
 
 '' in remembrance of my blood fpilt, for your fins. Do 
 
 '* diis to (liew forth my death, and to prove you do not 
 
 " forget my frienddiip for you, till I return again to 
 
 *' bring you away from this lower world into that hea- 
 
 '• venly inheritance, which the facrifice of my blood in- 
 
 *' titles you to. If you really love me, as often as you 
 
 " fee this bread broken, you will think you fee my flefh 
 
 " fhivering in the agonies of death, and torn to pieces 
 
 " on the crofs, to prepare it for the fuftenance of your 
 
 " fouls ; and as often as you fee this wine poured out, 
 
 " your afFedlion and gratitude will reprefent it to your 
 
 *' hearts, as that blood which llreamed Jrom my wounds 
 
 " to wafli away all fm from your fouls. But you knov/, 
 
 " dearly beloved, for whom I am laying down my life, 
 
 *' that I am led to my crofs by your fins, and the infidel 
 
 " cruelty of my enemies. When therefore you come to 
 
 " this coftly banquet of my flefh and blood, if you have 
 
 '• any love for me, or fenfe of what I fuffer in your ftead, 
 
 *' do not bring with you either unbelief or fm, led I un- 
 
 " derftand you as coming to crucify me afrefli •, left in 
 
 " you I fee another Judas and his band, another CaiaphaSy 
 
 " another Pilate. I do not tell you how often I require 
 
 " this proof of your gratitude : I leave that to the 
 
 " thankful motions of your own hearts. But if, as often 
 
 *' as you think fit thus to acknowlege my kindnefs, you 
 
 '* do it with that affeclion, that forrow for your fins, and 
 
 " that truft in my fervices and promifes, which I require, 
 
 " you foall d'-juell in me., J will dzvell in yon % and eternal 
 
 " love Ihall io unite us into one happy and immortal body, 
 
 *' that where l.am, there pall you be alfo ; and ti either 
 
 " death ^ 710T life., 7ior angels^ nor principalities^ nor pow- 
 
 " crs^ nor things pre fent, nor things to come^ nor height., 
 
 " nor depth., nor any other creature., Pall be able to fepa- 
 
 " rate you from the love of my Father., which manitcils, 
 
 '• and will for ever manifeft, itfcif towards you, in me 
 
 " your Lord and Saviour." 
 
 Is he now a C hrilban who can be deaf to fuch an addrefs? 
 W'ho can coldiy comply with, or flatly refufe, fuch an in- 
 viiation ^. who hath bafenefs enough to fay within him- 
 
 felf. 
 
T^ke Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 3 5 
 
 felf, or brutality enough even to fay to others, '' I do 
 *' not intend to commuicate more than once or twice a 
 " year -, perhaps 1 (hall not prevail on myfelf to do it fo 
 ** often? It is true, when I do attend this duty, I lay out 
 " but a fmall portion of two or three days in preparing 
 *' for it ; yet this gives fo painful an interruption to the 
 " purfuits my heart is engaged in, that 1 cannot think of 
 *' going about this bufinefs, either more frequently, or 
 *' more warmly.*' Now compare this with the addrefs 
 of our bleffed Saviour, that you may fuppofe it, as is 
 really the cafe, returned by way of anfwer to that addrefs ; 
 and then tell us, whether you can conceive human nature, 
 or any thing fliort of the diabohcal, capable of a more de- 
 teftable, or a mere infernal, degree of ingratitude. Were 
 the man abfolutely an atheilt, he could never think of 
 coming to the Lord's table at all. What then (in the 
 name of wonder!) is he? Is he a Chriftian ? Does he 
 hope for falvarion through the death of Chrift ? Good 
 God ! How then can he anfwer his Saviour in fuch a 
 manner ? Or with what enormous impudence can he 
 hope, that attendance, fo cold, fo forced, fo feldoni 
 paid, can pafs on the fearcher of hearts for gratitude, for 
 gratitude under the weight of fuch infinite obligations ? 
 But why do I thus lafli this wretch ? The ungrateful 
 cannot be obliged, cannot be fervcd, cannot be faved. 
 
 Eefide thcfe realons for frequent communion, arifing 
 from the nature of the inftitution itfelf, there is another 
 of no lefs force, and better qualified to fhew how often 
 we ought to communicate, drawn from the pradice of the 
 Apoflolic age, and of that which followed for fome hun- 
 dreds of years. The Apoftles, who were guided imme- 
 diately by the Spirit of God, could not have been mif- 
 taken in a thing of this confequence ; nor could the pri- 
 mitive Fathers, who purfued the example of the Apoflks. 
 Now St. Luke informs us, it was the cuftom of the difci- 
 ples to come together on the firji day of the week to break 
 bread-i which is the exprefTion he ufes to fignify the cele- 
 bration of the Lord's fupper. From whence it appears, 
 they performed this folemnity once a week. IN ay, ic 
 feems, they did ic much ofcener ; for Vv'e find, they con- 
 
 D 2 tmund 
 
^ 6 The Covenant cf Peace received and continued, 
 
 tinned daily in the temple^ and alfo broke bread from houfe 
 to houfe ', from which it is natural to conclude, that, as 
 often as any number of them met at one another's houfe, 
 which was almofb every day, they conftantly went to 
 prayers, and celebrated this lacrament. Tliis holy 
 practice had not ceafed in St. Cyprian s time ; for he fays, 
 we daily recei^rd the Eucharijl^ as the food which nourijhes 
 us to falvations nay, we find ic ftill alive as far down as 
 the days of St. Ambrofe^ St. Jerom^ and St. Augujline^ in 
 the weftern churches •, and, as to the eaftern churches, whofe 
 piety began fooner to cool, St. Bafil fays, they commu- 
 nicated tour times a week, and ottener, if the feftival of 
 any martyr called them together. 
 
 Their practice alfo inftrufts in another point of great 
 moment, relating to this awful inftitution -, namely, that 
 they not only denied communion to all open offenders, as 
 we fee by the inftance of the insejluous perfon among the 
 Corinthians^ but alfo threatened all fuch with exconimii- 
 nication, as came to the public place of worfhip, and did 
 not flay to receive the Lord's fupper, as we fee by the 
 Apoflolic canons, and the fynod oi" Jfitioch. If any man 
 in health fhould but once abfent himfelf from this fo- 
 lemnity on the Lord's day, he was regarded by all the 
 Chriftians of his acquaintance as an infamous perfon, 
 whofe fecret fins had cut him off from the body of Chrift. 
 Such were the cufloms in relation to chis facred and fo- 
 lenin ordinance, that arofe from the immediate diredlions 
 of the Holy Spirit. 
 
 Let us now alk ourfelves, whether we think this facra- 
 ment is a different thing in tliefe days from what it was in 
 the purer ages of the church ? Whether we (land in lefs 
 need cf the grace communicated by it, than the primitive 
 Chriftians did ? Whether our acknowlegements are not as 
 often due, as theirs, for the death of Chrift .'' Or whether 
 it can be rationally fuppofed, that our pradice comes 
 nearer to the defign ol our bleffed Saviour, than that 
 which flowed from the immediate diftates of his Holy 
 Spirit ? The right anfwers to thefe queftions will condemn 
 the ufage, in this behalf, of every church now on earth. 
 In what an unworthy light muft the prefent profefTors of 
 
 Chriftianity 
 
The Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 5 / 
 
 Chriftianity ftand, when fo few can be found among the 
 largeft and beft congregations, who are willing to com- 
 municate once a month -, when the fecond clafs, far more 
 "numerous than this, content themfelves with receiving 
 once or twice a year ; and when the remainder, which 
 makes a greater body, than both the other put together, 
 are hardly ever prevailed on to receive at all ? Hath this 
 the air of gratitude, of piety, ot Chriftianity ? No, the 
 true Chriftian, and the conftant communicant, ever were, 
 and ftill are, but one and the fame thing. 
 
 But further, fince not to receive this holy facrament is 
 excommunication, let us afl<. ourfelves, whether it is worfe 
 to be excommunicated by the church, which may be mif- 
 taken in its cenfures ; or by the deadnefs of our owa 
 hearts, and the clamorous guilt of our own confciences, 
 where there is not the fame room for an erroneous fen- 
 tence ? Whofoever retufes to receive, be rhe excufcs he 
 makes what they will, is certainly felf-condemned of in- 
 gratitude towards his Saviour, or of infidelity, or of feme 
 fecret enormities unreformed, or of rancour in regard to 
 his neighbour*, perhaps of all •, and therefore felf-excom- 
 municated. As to his receiving once or twice a year, or, 
 it may be, but once in feveral years, it can only ferve to 
 rife in judgment againft his infamous negledl at other 
 times ; for why fhould not the fame reafons that brought 
 him once to the Lord's table, bring him on all other oc- 
 cafions when it is fpread for him ? If he can receive at a 
 great feftival, why not at another time ? Do his acknow- 
 iegcments depend on the calendar ? Is he only annually a 
 Chriftian ? Or are the firs of his devotion periodical, like 
 thofe of an old ague ? A covenant, fo feldom remem- 
 bred, can by no means preferve the peace between God 
 and his foul. Accounts, fo feldom examined and cleared, 
 muft lie in the utmoft confufion, and fwell, in time, be- 
 yond a poflibility of being fettled or balanced. So long 
 a faft from fpiritual food muft ftarve the vital principle in 
 the foul, and, in all probability, reduce it to an incapacity 
 of being revived. 
 
 Such are the reafons, to which many more might be 
 added, for frequency of communion. But I cannot con- 
 
 D 3 , elude, 
 
;2 8 ^he Covenant oj Peace reneurd and ccntiniied. 
 
 dude, nor difmifs the lubje6l of this facrament, without a 
 remark, that, if I miftake not, does more honour both to 
 the inftitution itfelf, and the wifdom of its author, than 
 any other, and may ferve at the lame time briefly to re- 
 mind you of all that hath been faid. 
 
 Although the facrament of the Lord's fupper hath its 
 own peculiar ends, fuch as the commemoration of Chrift's 
 death, communion with the head and members of the 
 church, ratification of the covenant, participation of grace, 
 and the like -, yet none of thefe is the ultimate end of this 
 inftitution, which, like all other parts of our religion, 
 purlues, through its own immediate ends, the grand, the 
 common end of Chriilianity, to wit, the glory of God in 
 the falvation of fouls. And this it does in a way alto- 
 gether worthy of that infinite wifdom, to which it owes 
 its appointment ; for while, on the one fide, it is no lefs 
 than death to the foul to negiedl it, on the other, it is 
 damnation to receive it unworthily, that is, without faith, 
 reformation of manners, and charity both towards God 
 and man. Thus it fences cur way to happinefs on each 
 hand ; and, inafmuch as it is continually to be attended, 
 keeps the articles of our covenant, the death of Chrift, 
 the neceflity of a good life, the mercies and judgments of 
 God, heaven, hell, and, in a word, every principle, every 
 motive, of Chriftianity, always ftrongly in view, Befide 
 this, it maintains a conflant intercourie between God, and 
 the foul of eacii regular communicant, by the grace, 
 mercy, and peace, which God confers in it-, and by the 
 felt- examination, vigilance, and devotion, which the 
 worthy receiver, without intermifilon, exercifes in order to 
 a right attendance on this important folemni'y. Confi- 
 dered in this hghr, it abridges and braces on the confcience 
 all the means of falvation ; it concentres all the inflru- 
 ments, ends, and purpofes, of Almighty God towards 
 man, contained in our holy religion. Confidered in any 
 lower light, in that particularly, wherein a late writer hath 
 endeavoured to repreient ir, to the eye of common fenfe it 
 dwindles into an empty ceremony, as little capable of 
 doing honour to the wifdom of its author, as of pro- 
 iri'Jting the piety and virtue of mankind. ■; 
 
 Let 
 
^he Covenant of Peace renewed and continued. 3 9 
 
 Let us therefore, to conclude, give a clofe attention to 
 this mod ufeful and awful inftitution ; let us conftantiy 
 attend it, and on all occafions, with deep and ardent de- 
 votions, apply it to the blcffcd purpofes, for which it was 
 ordained ; ever carefully recolleding, that we cannot 
 negledt it, without danger of death to our fouls •, nor un- 
 worthily receive it, without danger of damnation. 
 
 And may its blefled founder be gracioufly pleafed to 
 afTift our endeavours herein with his Holy Spirit, and to 
 accept of them, for the fake of thofe merits, on which our 
 hopes of eternal peace and life are grounded. Now, to 
 the ever-bleffed and glorious Trinity, be all might, ma- 
 jefty, dignity, and dominion, from henceforward for 
 evermore. Amen. 
 
 D 4 ^ t 5. 
 
[ 4° ] 
 
 DISCOURSE III. 
 
 The Reward annexed to the ChriPcian 
 Covenant. 
 
 CoLoss. iii. 2. 
 
 Set yciir aff'cBion on things ahove^ not on things on 
 the earth. 
 
 REN we confider how infinitely different the 
 things above, and the things on earth, here 
 fpoken of, are •, how fenfible and grofs the one, 
 how fpiritual and pure the other ; it may feem a little 
 furprifing, that the fame afFedion fhould be capable of a 
 relifh for both ; or rather, as we have them from the 
 flefhly part of our nature, that they fliould have any in- 
 clination at all to objects purely fpiritual. But we find 
 they really have, when fuch objefts are propofed to the 
 underftanciing, as infinitely better, than the proper objefls 
 of fenfe, and recommended through that to our afi'edlions 
 under the fhadow and figure of fuch fenfible enjoyments, 
 as impart to the foul the moft pure and exalted kind of 
 pleafure. Our Maker, having intended us for a progrefs 
 through both worlds, hath fitted us to either. In this 
 refpeft, as well as in the make and carriage of our bodies, 
 although our feet are placed on earth, our heads are 
 crefted towards the heavens. 
 
 Whether^' 
 
^be Reward annexed to, &c. 41 
 
 Whether, however, our chief attention ought to look 
 upward, or downward, reafon is to determine, according 
 to the hghts and prolpeds afforded it from either quarter, 
 God intended we Ihould be nnoved by our affections, 
 but guided by our underftandings. Yet the affections, 
 though bhnd, will not always fuffer themfelves to be led. 
 The judgment indeed interpoles on mod occafions, and 
 afferts its right of didating to the will •, yet, unlefs it is 
 feconded by the heart, it is either over-ruled, or but half 
 obeyed ; whereas affe6tion, without, or even againft, rea- 
 fon, can often produce very earnefl purfuits, and vigorous 
 actions. When the affe<5tions go foremoft in the condud: 
 of any man, he is, for the time, no better than a brute. 
 His very nature is inverted ; and reafon in him is of no 
 other ufe, than to make him a little more ingenioufly 
 foolifh, more regularly njad and v/icked. 
 
 If it is afked, how a rational creature fhould ever adfc 
 againft reafon ? experience readily anfwers, man cannot 
 help purfuing his own fuppofed happinefs, and flying 
 from that which he thinks will make him miferable. 
 Now, it is through his affeftions chiefly that he enjoys, 
 or fuffers ; and therefore it is no wonder, if they affume 
 a very extraordinary fway within him. Befides, their 
 motions from one objed, and to another, are generally 
 fo fudden and violent, that reafon hath not time to inter- 
 fere, till they are become too ftrong to be controuled. 
 They give pleafure, and we follow \ or they give pain, 
 and we fly ; bsfore it is well confidered, whether we 
 fhould do either; for all is not good, that pleafes; nor 
 all evil, that difgufts. Kence it is manifeft, that judg- 
 ment is neceffary to turn the affections away from that 
 which is really evil, and to point them towards that which 
 is really good. With the heat and vehemence that is na- 
 tural to them, whether thev are direded or not, they 
 always move fwiftly, and tend Itrongly, after the prefent 
 appearance, whereon they are fixed, if in any man 
 right reafon, duly enlightened, hath the guidance and 
 government of the affedtions, he muft be happy ; be- 
 caufe he muft be good : But if his affeftions are left 
 to themfelves, he muft be wicked j and he who is wicked, 
 
 muft 
 
42 The Reward an?iexed to 
 
 mull be miferable. If they are chained down to earthly 
 things, and pent in to flelhly objeds, they turn his heart 
 into a fiery furnace, refembhng the place of the damned, 
 inhabited only by that which is fouJ and miferable ; but, 
 if they afpire towards things above, they blaze forth in 
 kindly heat, and beautiful light ; which refine as they 
 afcend, till they mix with their kindred element in God. 
 
 All mankind are in purfuit of either real or miftaken 
 happinefs, and flying from fuch appearances of evil, as 
 prefent themfeives to their affections and paffions. All 
 our labours of body, and anxieties of mind, all our arts 
 and fchemes, all the rifques we run on fea, or in battle, 
 the profufcnefs of one, and the frugality of another, the 
 aiflivity of this, and the indolence of that, the honefty 
 or knavery, the commerce, and the policy ; in fliort, the 
 whole importance, and ftruggle, and buftle of the world, 
 is in order to one or other of thefe two great ends ; to 
 obtain fome good, or avoid fome evil j and proceeds alto- 
 gether from our affections. 
 
 In the midft of all this hurry, and an infinite variety of 
 folicitation made to our fenfes and defires by the things 
 here below, religion fteps in, and bids us {ti our affections 
 on certain things above, which it propofes to be firft ex- 
 amined by our underftandings, and, if approved of, to be 
 clofed with on the part of our defires. Thefe things are 
 God and heaven, in the enjoyment of which to all eter- 
 nity confifts the chief, if not the only, happinefs of man. 
 Give me leave to propofe this to you as the fubjed; of the 
 prefent Difcourfe. 
 
 A fubjed:, lb copious and important can never be ex- 
 haulled, can never be brought too often under confidera- 
 tion. Befides, as it is of all others infinitely the mod de- 
 lightful, no frequency of meditation can render it dilagree- 
 able or infipid to a mind that either afpires to great things, 
 or has any tafte of true pleafure. 
 
 As the propofal is made us by God himfelf, and 
 founded on our own nature, I fliall fingle out the feveral 
 notions by which it is reprefented and conveyed to us in 
 his holy Scriptures ; and, one by one, illullrate and en- 
 force them as well as I can. 
 
 The 
 
the Chrijlian Covenant. 4.5 
 
 The firft reprefentation of our happinefs after death, I 
 fhall take notice of, is, that of reji. In the xivch of St. 
 Johns revelation it is faid by a voice from heaven, and 
 by the Spirit of God, that the dead, which die in the 
 Lord^ are blejjed •, and that they reft from their labours. 
 In the fourth chapter of the epiftle to the Hebrews^ the 
 Apoftle, having formed an allegory between thepromifc 
 of a temporal reft given to the Ifraelites, and of a fpi- 
 ritual given to Chriftians, fays, There remaineth therefore 
 a reft to the 'people of God \ and let us therefore labour to 
 enter into that reft. Chrift, in the eleventh of St. Mat- 
 thew*s gofpel, calls this a reft for the foul. Job fays, ic 
 is a reft for the weary •, and Ifaiah, fpeaking even of its 
 commencement in this life, calls it, a glorious reft. 
 
 It was the curfe inflidled on all mankind, upon the fall 
 of our firft parents, that they fhould eat bread in the 
 fweat of their jace^ till they fhould return unto the ground. 
 All things, fays the preacher, are full of labour \ man can- 
 not utter it. But in Chrift's kingdom the righteous fhall 
 find a glorious and eternal refl for their fouls. No anxie- 
 ties of mind, nor toils of body, fhall follow us into that 
 happy place of eafe and repole. The weary fhall no 
 more ftoop under his burden ; nor he that was flunned 
 with the buftle of this world, any more hear the clamour 
 of the croud, nor be toffed in an ocean of bufinefs, like a 
 bubble amidft the froth of a whirlpool. His loul fhall 
 enjoy a perfeft calm, undifturbed by paflions or cares. 
 In this profound filence, his will fliall liften to his reafon, 
 and his reafon to the fott whifpers of nature, and the 
 ftill voice of God. 
 
 In the next place, the condition of the happy is fet 
 forth in the holy Schpturts under the notion of peace, 
 Mark the perfect man, fays David, in the thirty-feventh 
 Pfalm ; and behold the upright •, for the end of that man is 
 peace. Ifaiah fays, in the fifry-leventh chapter, that the 
 righteous is taken away from the evil to come, and that he 
 fhall enter into peace. The juft and devout Simeon, to 
 whom it had been revealed, that he ftoould not fee death 
 before he had fern the Lord's Chrift ^ taking the child Jefus 
 
 in 
 
44 ""^^ Reward annex i'd to 
 
 in his arms, cried out, Lordy now kiteji thou thy fervant 
 depart hi peace. 
 
 By our natural birth we are born to enmity with God ; 
 and though, by our religious birth in baptllm, that enmity 
 in our fielh is abolifhed, yet we are then enlifted into the 
 fervice of God againft a powerful combination of ene- 
 mies ; namely, the world, the flelh, and the dtvil •, whofe 
 continual affaults keep us aflually in a ftate of war from 
 thenceforward to the hour of our death. But then it is, 
 that, after having fought a good fight of faith^ we enter 
 into true peace ; a peace which thole enemies fiiall no 
 longer be able to diihirb. There fliall be no evil principles 
 to combat the good, nor inordinate paiTjons to make war 
 on each other, or on our reafon -, no error to kindle vain 
 difputes : no ambition, nor pride, nor avarice, to ftir up 
 flrife and rage. Anger^ and wrath, and clamour, and 
 evil'fpeaking, with every malicious pafTion, every furly 
 and jealous humour, that fluits our hearts againft each 
 other in this life, being then put far away from u?, calm 
 thoughts, and benevolent difpofitions, fiiall fucceed into 
 their place ; and 0[)en our affedtions to all the infinite 
 fweetsol love and fricndPaip from our feiJovv-creatures, and 
 favour from God. With what a glow of tenderncfs muit 
 it warm a benevolent heart, to fee the generous love that 
 unites the fpirits of good men made perfeSl ; to fee thofe 
 fouls, who perhaps, in this life, contended bitterly about 
 the trifles of this world, meeting like righteoufnefs and 
 ■peace^ and kijfing each other \ to fee them ftnke hands, 
 and unite hearts, for ever ! 
 
 Again, the happinefs of the next life is reprefented to 
 us, in holy Scripture, as a treafure. Our Saviour bids 
 us lay up for our f elves trcafures in heaven, where neither 
 moth nor ruji doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break 
 through and fieal. He defired the rich young man to 
 fell all he had ; and told him, x\\2i\. he jJoould have treafure 
 in heaven. Again, he aflures his difcipks, that every one, 
 who had forfaken houfes or lands for his narMS fake, foould 
 receive an hundredfold, and inherit everlajling life. 
 
 The riches of this world generally coft us much more 
 
 than they are worth -, and, even when we have obtained 
 
 2 them^ 
 
the Chrijiian Covenant. , 45 
 
 them, we have no certain hold of them •, they make tbem- 
 feves wings^ and fly away \ or, although they lliouid not, 
 death foon removes us Irom them, and we cannot tell who 
 jhall gather them. The greater part of human under- 
 ftanding, and worldly wifdom, is laid out in making for- 
 tunes, and raifing families. How do the living magnify 
 this kind of wifdom ! How do the dead repent of it, or 
 deride it ! How like a child the rich man falls, and icat- 
 ters all his colle<5tion of baubles ! and how like children 
 do thofe about him fcramble for the trifles ! 
 
 It is not fo with the riches of heaven. They laft for 
 ever. There are no thieves, no moths, nor worms, no 
 accidents, nor deaths, to take them from us. Our fpi~ 
 ritual houfe^ with all its rich treafures, and Hiining orna- 
 ments, is eternal in the heavens. Its everlafting tounda- 
 tions are laid on the firm rock of God's promt ft-s *, its 
 ftately flru6lure rifes among the beautiful buildings ot the 
 new Jerufalem -, its walls fparkle with jafper, and its 
 floors Ihine with gold trnnfparent like glafs. 
 
 The riches of this world are poverty : for he who has 
 the moft of them fi:;ll wants more, in heaven only there 
 is enough. The wealthiell monarch in this world muft 
 rob a beaft, a bird, or a worm, to make himfelf gay ; 
 and, after all, is not as fine as the lily. But thofe v/ho 
 are thought worthy to attend in the train of the Lamb, 
 fliall be cloathed in garments whofe whitenefs and luftre 
 not eternity itfelf can tarnifii. The wealthicfl of men 
 can only feed on the earth, in common with brutes and 
 worms. But thofe who flial! be received into the new 
 Jerufalem^ fnall drink out of that river of life that flows 
 from the throne of God, whofe waters are clear as cry flat ; 
 and fliall eat the fruit of that tree of life., whofe very leaves 
 heal the nations. 
 
 Again, the happinefs of heaven is reprefcnted to us 
 under the notion of pleafure. We are told, in the flx- 
 teenth Pfalm, that at the right-hand of God, where the 
 righteous are placed^ are pJeafures for evermore -, and, in 
 the thirty-fixth Pfalm, that his faithful people fioall he 
 abundantly fatisfied with the fatnefs of his houfe, and fhdi 
 he made to d?'ink of the river of his pleafures. 
 
46 The Reward annexed to 
 
 The pleafures of this life feldom fatisfy ; and, when 
 they do, they fuifeit. They enfeeble the body. They re- 
 lax the very foul. Corruption and fhame are mixed up 
 with their nature. They begin in anxiety, and end in 
 repentance. They were given us to anfwer certain ends 
 in this prefent ftate \ but we purfue them beyond thofe 
 natural ends, to our own confufion and ruin. As foon as 
 this life fhall ceafe, then ceafe alfo all thofe pleafures that 
 are peculiar to it •, for in another life we Ihail be as the 
 angels in heaven. As their happinefs is of a purely fpi- 
 ritual and celeftial nature, fo (hall ours be. It fhall be 
 fuch as feraphims can partake in ; fuch as we can, with- 
 out fliame, enjoy in the fight of God. It (hall, in (hort, 
 be fuch as the foul, renewed and ftrengthened in all its 
 powers, and enlarged in its capacity, can enjoy. One 
 moment of fuch enjoyment would overpower and dilTolve 
 our nature, in its prefent infirmity. But, when we fhall 
 have -put on immortality^ the delights of heaven, inftead of 
 impairing, fhall refrefli the faculties that are to enjoy 
 them ; for fuch is conftantly the effedl of intelledual plea- 
 fures even here. They never pall, they leave no fatiety, 
 nor diftafte, behind them •, but whet the mind to further 
 defwres, and feed the very foul itfelf, as it were, with new 
 life. But in heaven they will be as various, as boundlefs, 
 as endlefs, as glorious, as the objc6l:s to be enjoyed. 
 
 Again, our future happinefs is reprefented to us under 
 the notion of -power and dominion. We are told, in the 
 forty-ninth Pfalm, that the upright Jkall home dominion over 
 the wicked in the miming •, that is, in the refurredtion. 
 I appoint unto you a kingdom^ lays Chrift to his dilciples, 
 in the twenty-fecond of St. Liike\ gofpel. In the iecond 
 of the epifllc general of St. James^ thofe who are rich in 
 faith are [aid to be heirs of the kingdom^ which God hath 
 promifed to them that love him. 
 
 There is in man a natural defire of power, which, de- 
 generating into ambition in this life, amufes itfelf with 
 fuch a (hadow of power, as the little principalities and 
 petty fovereignties of this v/orld fet before it. 
 , But, in the life to come, the foul, having the full ufe 
 of all its faculties, and being able to govern itfelf, ihall 
 
 be 
 
the Chriftian Covenant. 47 
 
 be exalted to a poft of triift and power, equal to its high 
 endowments. We find, in the tenth of Daniel^ that na- 
 tions had their guardian angels to rule over them i and 
 nothing can better agree wich nature and reafon than the 
 fuppofition of fuch a guardianfliip. It is not likely, that 
 the blefled confume the whole length of eternity in con- 
 tinual hymns, and inadive contemplations. It is iniinite- 
 ly more likely, that th?y have certain flauons affigned 
 them, where, in fubordination to the King of kings, they 
 bear mignty rule, and execute great things ; where they 
 combat the great dragon, and the powers of darknefs -, 
 where whole nations, and perhaps worlds, are commited 
 to their care and proteflion, v/here, in gratitude to their 
 infinite Benefador, and out of love to their fellow-crea- 
 tures, they rejoice to carry on the glorious fchemes of 
 Providence, to promote virtue, to fupprefs vice, to 
 croud the kingdom of their great Mafter with happy 
 beings like themfelves. It is on account of that em- 
 ployment that they are called, in the epiille to the He- 
 brews^ minijlring fpirits^ fent forth to minijter for them 
 who fh all be heirs of falvation. The unexpedled reforma- 
 tion of particular perfons, and the unaccountable revo- 
 lutions in kingdoms, are probably brought about by thefe 
 invifible agents, who at one time promote the liberty 
 and wealth of a virtuous people, and at another pour 
 out the phials ot God's fury on a degenerate age, or a 
 guilty nation. 
 
 Again, the happinefs of our new ftate is recommended 
 to us by the promife of honour and glory. Glory ^ honour^ 
 and peace^ are promifed to every or.e that ivorketh good. 
 They that have the true wifdcm, pall fhine as the bright- 
 nefs of the firmament^ and they that turn many to righteoitf- 
 vefsy as the Jiars^ for ever and ever ^ fay^ Darnel. Blejfed 
 is the man, fays St. James, that endureth temptation: for 
 when he is tried, he {hall receive the crown of lije, which 
 the Lord hath promifed to them that love him. ^t. Paul 
 reckoned, that the fufferings of this prejent time are net 
 worthy to be compared with the glory that /hall be revealed ; 
 and he tells us in another place, that, when the veil fhall 
 he taken away ^ we fJjall aU. with open face, beholding, as 
 
 I in 
 
4,S 7Z'c RevkiJ'd annexed to 
 
 in a glafs^ the glory cf the Lord, he changed into the fame- 
 image^ ftill improving, and rifing from glory to glory. 
 How does it dilate; the heart, and exalt our thoughts, to 
 look forward at that happy time, when we Ihall rife from 
 the earth, like a bed of new-blown flowers, and, laying 
 by all our load of corruption, dijhonour, weaknefs, and 
 mortality^ fhall cloathe ourfelves with incorruption, glory, 
 power, and immortality ? If, as our Saviour tells us, we 
 Jhall he as the angels in heaven, then fliall we refemble 
 him, who, in the tenth of Daniel, appeared with a hody 
 like heryl, with a face as the appearance of lightning, with 
 eyes as lamps of fire, with arms and feet in colour like 
 polifhed hrafs, and with a voice, when he fpoke, like the 
 voice of a multitude. Nay, the excellence and luftre of 
 our perfons fhall be even greater than this ; for this was 
 only a vifible cloathing, put on to fliadow the greater 
 glories of his fpiritual perfon. Yet, in comparifon of 
 this, the fplendour of earthly thrones and crowns is tin- 
 fel, and their pomp, pageantry. Could fuch a being be 
 but for a moment placed in the fame view with the moft 
 magnificent emperor in his trappings of ftate, it would 
 eclipfe all his fpendour, and turn his finery to rags, to 
 fackcloth and alhes. 
 
 Again, the converfation of angels, and good men made 
 perfed;, will make no inconfiderable part of our happinefs 
 in heaven. Our fellow -labourers here are to be our co- 
 heirs and fellow-citizens in that glorious kingdom of our 
 Lord and Savour Jefus Chrifi. Even while we live here, 
 we, in fome fenfe, have our converfation in heaven. But 
 as foon as we come to mount Sion, and unto the city of the 
 living God, the heavenly ]crui^d\em, and to an innumerable 
 company of angels, we fhall then have the full relifh and 
 enjoyment of that celcftial converfation. Then thofe be- 
 nevolent beings, who, during our warfare below, looked 
 down with atteation on our trials, perhaps frequently lent 
 us a friendly hand, though unfeen, in our dangerous en- 
 counters wich our baptifmal enemies, who, after our 
 lapfes, made a jubilee upon our rifing and repenting, will 
 pay us a kind and joyful welcome on our fafe arrival 
 .among them. 
 
 What 
 
the Chri/lia?z Covenants 49 
 
 What delight mull it not give to a generous and bene- 
 volent nature, to find itfelf in llich company, and among 
 fuch friends ! to perceive in itfelf a due relifh for their 
 converfation, and an underftanding capable of bearing a 
 part in it ! 
 
 Among this glorious company there is none who does 
 not contribute largely to the fatisfaflion and entertainment 
 of the reft. There is no weak reafoning, nor byaffed 
 judging ; no tedious fearches after knowlege ; no ill-na- 
 tured ridicule •, no trifling, nor impertinence ; no pride, 
 nor jealoufy, nor envy. The powers of their under- 
 llandings being greatly improved and enlarged, and their 
 fentiments and affections refined, produce a converfation 
 truly fignificant and noble. Their faculties are prodi- 
 gioufly capacious, and yet filled with the knowlege of 
 great and wonderful things. Their fancies, full of beau- 
 tiful and lofty images, furnifh their difcourfes with a drefs 
 infinitely entertaining and fublime. Each, happy in him- 
 felf, and filled with fuch love to all the reft, as none but 
 the tongue of angels can utter, imparts joy and wonder 
 at every word. What imagination can conceive the ar- 
 dours of a friendlhip excited by beauty and excellence 
 like theirs ! or the mutual returns of love from generofity 
 fo exalted ! or the glorious rebounds of entertainment 
 from underftandings fo perfed, fo full -, fo fruitful of 
 fentiments great, good, and heavenly, like the minds in 
 which they are formed I 
 
 Further, the con(emplaiion of God^s works makes a de- 
 lightful article in our eternal happinefs. The works of the 
 Lord are greats fought out of all them that have pleafure 
 therein. How manifold are his works ! in wifdom hath he 
 made them all. As a good mind is naturally led to medi- 
 tate on the works of God in this life, where we fee {o 
 ihort a way, and know ^o litde j we may prefume, that, 
 when our fenfes and faculties ftiall be enlarged, and the 
 univerfe opened to our range of obfervation, we (hall 
 then make furprifing difcoveries, and delight to lofe our- 
 felves in the contemplation of infinite wonders. 
 
 In this world we are confined to one corner, as It were,' 
 of the creation -, and our narrow fenfes afford us but a 
 
 Vol. IL E fcanty 
 
ro The Reipard annexed to 
 
 fcanty profped into the reft. We fee a few of the next 
 ftars, or neighbouring worlds, that lie round us, and 
 thofe fo very imperfeflly, that they appear but like fo 
 many fcattered fparks of fire. What fills the bound lefs 
 refidue of infinite fpacc, we know not. But we may be 
 fure, that there alfo infinite wildom, goodnefs, and 
 power, have been employed, and are there obeyed and 
 praifed. If it be extremely agreeable to travel from one 
 country to another on the furface of this world, what 
 would it be to vifit and llirvey the curiofities of other 
 worlds, to outftrip the light, on the fwift wings of con- 
 templadon, in the fearch of nature! The objeds of won- 
 der, the beauty, the magnificence, even here, in a place 
 of trial, are not to be exprcfild •, but how much greater 
 mufl they be in a ftate intended for reward, in the more 
 immediate refidence of God ! 
 
 What infinite entertainment muft it afford to look into 
 the caufes of things; to fee on what t\-it foundations of the 
 earth are laid •, to enter into the fprings of the fea^ and 
 the treafures of the f now and hail -, to fee what it is, that 
 gives the thunder its refiftleis force, and its loud voice •, 
 to fee what it is, that moves and guides the heavenly 
 bodies ; ^ofing with the morning fiars^ and fhout with the 
 fons of God for joy at the creation of new worlds ; to 
 take the harp^ with thofe that have overcome the beafl ; 
 and to fing the fong of Mofcs the fervant of God, and 
 the fong of the Lamh^ faying, Great and marvellous are 
 thy works. Lord God Almighty ; juji and true are thy ways^ 
 thou King of Saints ! 
 
 If fuch are the works of God, what muft he be him- 
 felf!' If there is fuch delight in the contemplation of 
 them, what muft there be in the bk-.ed vifion of him, 
 when we ilrall behold his glorious face, and fee as we are 
 feen! If the enjoyment or the creature is fo great, what 
 muft be that of the Creator ! If hght and beauty are fo 
 tranfporting when only refleded from the works of crea- 
 tion, what muft they be in dired perception from the 
 fountain itfelf ! 
 
 What unfpeakable pleafure is there in living and con- 
 verfing with a friend who hath done us fome great fa- 
 vour! 
 
the Chrijlian Covenant, 5 1 
 
 voiir ! How is this heightened, if he fuffereJ much in do*- 
 inp; it ! How does our love increafe, if he rifqued his Hfe 
 to iiive ours ! What then muft the prefence, the fmiies, 
 the enjoyment, of him be, who made us, who fuffered 
 in our nature to fave us from eternal death, who hath 
 taken fuch infinite care to fuftain us in all our trials, to 
 defend us in all our dangers -, who, in fliort, has forgiven 
 us fuch a world of fin, who has crowned us at the laft 
 with mercy and loving-kind nefs, and admitted us into his 
 gracious -prefence^ where there is fulnefs of joy ^ and plea fur es 
 for evermore ! If the earth is full of his goodnefs \ if his 
 eyes run to and fro through the whole earthy to fhew him^ 
 felf Jlrong in the behalf of them^ whofe heart is perfect 
 towards him ; if he with-holdeth no good thing from them 
 that love him -, // he openeth his hand, and fatisfieth the ds- 
 fire of every living things even here, where fin is mixed with 
 our beft fervices •, how fhall we conceive thofe demonftra- 
 tions of his goodnefs, whereof we are to tafbe in heaven, 
 after fin -hath ceafed to interpofe between his gracious 
 countenance and our fouls! Then fhall we fee, as we are 
 feen, the Father of mercies, the Saviour of fouls, the 
 God of all comfort. Then fhall we reflect, with grati- 
 tude, with love, with delight, exceeding all exprefTion, on 
 the infinite wonders of his goodnefs, his patience, his ten- 
 dernefs, his pity, towards us. Then fhall we cry out, Ob 
 the depth of the riches both of the wifdcm and knowkge, and 
 alfo of the goodnefs, and forbearance, and long-fuffering, of 
 God, Vy'ho hath brought us out of the mire and clay ot our 
 fins ; who hathy^/ our feet upon the rock of his promifes, 
 and ordered our goings -, and who at the laft hath fpoken 
 peace to our fouls, and blefled us with the fight of his 
 glorious face for evermore. 
 
 Nothing can give as large a fhare of excellence and 
 perfeftion to what it makes, as it hath itfelf ; but God's 
 work?, being the finite operations of an infinite hand, 
 fink below their Maker to an infinite degree. When he 
 reprefents himfelf to us, in holy Scripture, as making his 
 chambers in the clouds, and fpreading darknefs under his 
 feet ; as bowing the heavens when he comes down ; as tnake- 
 ing ths mountains fmoke at his touch, and the earth tremble 
 
 E 2 at 
 
f 2 ^he Reward annexed to 
 
 at his pre fence •, making the clouds his chariots, and flying 
 upon the wings of the wind ; as decking himfelf with light 
 as with a garment^ making the heaven his throne, and the 
 earth his footflool ; we are to know, that he (peaks in 
 condefcenfion to our weaknefs, and gives us fuch notions 
 of his greatnefs, as we can comprehend. Yet all this, 
 than which we can at prefent conceive nothing more fub- 
 lime, is but a dim (hadow, and a faint refemblance, either 
 of his own majefty, or the fplendour of his court. 
 
 How fliall the foul of man enter into a fuch prefence ! 
 how fhall its faculties bear fuch an ocean of light, or its 
 ftrength ftand one look from infinite majefty ! The an- 
 fwer is eafy ; thofe looks, which would difTolve or anni- 
 hilate our prefent finful nature, will then impart celeftial 
 ftrength, and eternal life; will, as it were, infufe new be- 
 ing, and refrefli the immortal principle. In what an ec- 
 ftafy of love and gratitude ftiall the foul be then rapt up ! 
 To what a loud fong of thankfgiving ftiall it tune all its 
 powers ! When it goes forth from the prefence, how fhall 
 it make the celeftial courts refound the praifes of its Bene- 
 faftor ! with what a voice will it augment the univerfal 
 hallelujah of angels! As the language of men fails us in 
 our attempt to exprefs the excellence and happinefs of 
 angels ; fo the language of angels, fublime and expref- 
 five as it is, can only, like that of children, ftammer 
 the praifes of the one infinitely Great and Good. His 
 greatnefs outftrips all imagination •, and his goodncfs 
 leaves all gratitude and love far behind. While the eye 
 ol the foul is turned on heaven, this world feems to 
 dwindle into nothing ; but, when that eye is turned on 
 God, heaven itfelf, with all its created glories of thrones, 
 principalities, dominions, powers, fades away, and look$ 
 too fmall or dim to ftiare its attention. 
 
 Amidft all this rapture of happinefs and glory, it will be 
 no fmall addition, to refleft on its narrow efcape from the 
 jaws of eternal death, and the everlafting fafety and falva- 
 tion in which it is placed. Having wafjed its robes, and 
 made them white ^ in the blood of the Lamb^ it fhall Jiand 
 before the throne of God, and ferve him day and night in 
 his tempk. And he that fituth on the throne fliall dwell 
 6 w//^ 
 
the Chrtjltan Covenant, yj 
 
 with it, Itjhall hunger no more, neither thirji any more \ 
 neither JJjall the fun light on it^ nor any heat : for the 
 Lamb which is in the midfl of the throne Jhall feed ;7, 
 and fhall lead it unto living fountains of water ; and God 
 Jhall wipe away all tears from its eyes. 
 
 And haft thou, O thou foul of man ! pafl through the 
 dangerous trials, the vexations and uncertainties, of a 
 mortal life ? Haft thou efcaped the horrible regions of 
 fire and darknefs ? Art thou placed in eternal reft, and 
 peace, and pleafurc ? Art thou entrufted with a kingdom, 
 and adorned with a crown ? Inftead of thy former in- 
 firmity, art thou now inverted with power ? For thy 
 humility and meeknefs under contempt, art thou now, in 
 the fight of heaven, cloathed with honour and glory ? 
 Does that God, for whom thy heart hath fo long pined 
 and panted, with unutterable love now fmile upon thee ? 
 Does he fpeak peace to thee ? Does he call thee his 
 child ? Does he fay unto thee. Well done, thou good and 
 faithful fervant *, enter thou into 'the joy of thy Lord ? 
 And is this to be thy condition to all eternity ? Is the- 
 mutual love between God and thee to increafe for ever;^ 
 and fo at once to enlarge and enfuie thy blifs, that, after 
 a feries of ages, impofllble to be numbered, thy happi- 
 nefs fhall feem to be only in its infancy ? Thou haft made 
 a wife purchafe of this reverfion, although thou haft laid 
 out on it all the mortifications, and fears, and fufFerings, 
 to which a life of piety and purity is often expofcd here 
 below. 
 
 Such is the ftate of happinefs promifed to the fouls of 
 true Chriftians in another life, revealed to us in holy- 
 Scripture, and traced by undeniable arguments from 
 thence, and from our own nature. This, however, is to 
 be underftood as a weak and faint reprefentadon of our 
 future happinefs, the wonderful circumftances and degrees 
 of which no eye hath feen, nor ear heard, nor hath it 
 entered into the heart of man to conceive. There are 
 ftill pleafures and wonders untold, which it would be as 
 impofllble or unlawful to pry into and defcribe, as thofe 
 unutterable words, which St. Paul heard when he was 
 iaught up into the third heavens. 
 
 E 3 How- 
 
<^ The Reward anntkcd to 
 
 However, we conceive and know enough of the happi- 
 nefs to be enjoyed in Chrift's kingdom, to make rational 
 and thinking creatures fling away the toys and trifles of 
 this life, and place their afi'edions on things above. If 
 reafon is confuked, furely it will choofe the greateft good ; 
 furely it will choofe an infinite good, rather than an eternal 
 evil. Surely, if we take the mealbre of our choice from 
 the fize of our defires, we fl-.all rather give them objeds 
 that can fully fatisfy, objects great and endlefs, like them- 
 felves, than meanly (lint them to the fcanty enjoyments 
 of this life, to the poverty of this Vv'orld's riches. 
 
 Now let no one vainly imagine, that this may be done 
 when he dies •, that it will then be time enough for him 
 to remove his affeSlions from things on earthy and flace 
 them on things above^ when he himlelf is about to remove, 
 A clofe purfuit of this world, and the things of it, is 
 utterly inconuftent with the poffibility of obtaining the 
 next. If we give up our defires to the poflfefljons or 
 pleafures of our prefent condition, we fhall grow into 
 fuch an habit of liking and loving them, that, before we 
 go hence, v;e Ihall leave ourfelves a rehfh for nothing 
 eife ; fo that we (hall miferably hanker after them, and 
 cli.ng to them, even when neceffity has laid its iron hand 
 Upon us, and is tearing us from them. 
 
 And, as for the delights of another life, it is utterly 
 impofljible to enjoy them, without training up our affe- 
 ctions to an habitual defire of them. If we would enter 
 into this glorious Canaaii^ we ought to fend our afi^cd:ions 
 thither before us, to view its riches, and tafte its fruits •, 
 to take poflTefiion for us, and bring us a fample of its 
 produce. ^ How otherwife fhall we know what kind of 
 country it is, or whether it is a more defirable habitation 
 than the wildernefs we are in ? 
 
 An appetite and tafte muft be acquired, before we can 
 enjoy any thing. There is no enjoyment without love. 
 What we do not love, we do not defire ; and what we 
 do not defire, it is impofiible we fhould find any pleafure 
 in. This is not only true, but it is alfo true, that the en- 
 joyment of any obje6t is always in an exa6f proportion to 
 our ioye of it. Hence a fmall occafion of pleafure fhall 
 
 afford 
 
the Chrijlian Cove^iant, 5^ 
 
 afford more fatisfaftion to fome, than a greater \ and for 
 this reafon, becaufe tht-y love it more. 
 
 Were a man who is wedded to this world, and pafiion- 
 ately fond of the enjoyments peculiar to it, carried into 
 heaven, he would find nothing there that he could enjoy. 
 He would want affe6tions to tafte its pleafures, and fenfes 
 to perceive its glories. He would find none of his old 
 delights there •, no provifion for his intemperance ; no 
 objed for his jeudnels, his ambition, his pride, or his 
 avarice. It would be a dull and infipid (late to him, a 
 formlefs void. 
 
 How could a wicked man, even if he were in heaven, 
 enjoy the pleafures of contemplation, or entertain himfelf 
 with the furvey and knowlege of nature, who, in the for- 
 mer world, had not obfeivation enough to trace the very 
 being of a God ? 
 
 Hov/ could he relifh the pleafures of doing good there, 
 who had fpent his former life, and placed his pleafure, 
 in doing evil ? 
 
 How could he enjoy the fellowfliip of angels, who had 
 pafTed a whole life in the company and converfation (if I 
 m.ay be allowed the expreflion) of worldlings or rakes, 
 and hath now a relifh for no other companions ? 
 
 How could he frame his foul to divine love, and his 
 voice to hymns and hallelujahs, who, during the greater 
 part of his Ufe, had made a jeil of devotion, had derided 
 the houfe of God, and defpifed his table .^ 
 
 How could he enjoy the blclfed vifion of God, or ra- 
 ther how could he bear the prefence of him, whom he 
 had fo ungratefully and impioufly offended through the 
 whole courfe of his life ? How could he endure the dread- 
 ful look of thofe eyes that pierce the foul, and fee all its 
 fecrets ; in ivhofe fight the Jiars are not pure j and that 
 cannot look on iniquity ? 
 
 It is too manifeft to need a further proof, that heaven 
 itfelf could afford no enjoyment to a worldly, to a fenfual, 
 or a wicked, mind. Nay, it is highly probable, that the 
 happy themfelves will take higher or lower degrees of en- 
 joyment, even in heaven, according as they are poffeffed 
 with greater or lower degrees of divine love. When 
 
 £ 4 Chriil 
 
^6 ^e Reward annexed to 
 
 Chrift fliall entertain us in his Father's kingdom with 
 frjUit from the tree of life^ and the new wine, we (hall 
 probably receive a meafiire of delight proportionable to 
 the appetite we bring with us to the cpleftial banquet. 
 The foul muft have the principle of happinefs within it- 
 felf, or elfe no occafions of joy from without, be they ne- 
 ver fo great, will be able to make it happy. 
 
 From hence we may learn the abfolute neceffity of 
 pra6tifing devotion and virtue, and of bending our hearts 
 towards God and heaven, before we leave this world. Let 
 us therefore, with a juft contempt for the trifles of this 
 life, the vanity of which we fee and know, turn ourfelves 
 to the treafures, the delights and glories, of heaven, that 
 are too great to be feen or conceived at prefent. Let us 
 open our underftandings to the great objefts of faith, and 
 give them ali the warmth and force of our affedlions. Let 
 us either forfake the too eager purfuit of this world, and 
 then heaven will of courfe enter and poffefs our thoughts 5 
 or let us coiifider ferioufly what heaven is, and how it is 
 to be obtained j and it will drive out the love of this 
 world, and fet us at liberty. Let us fix our eyes, and our 
 whole attention, on the great things that wait for us in the 
 future life ; and then we fhall neither be immoderately 
 plealcd, nor intolerably grieved, at whatfoever may hap- 
 pen to us here. The noble elevation of our thoughts 
 will lift us above the power of fortune, above the tempta- 
 tions of fenfual pleafures, and the aflaults of temporal 
 evils ; will bring us, even while alive, near to the bounda- 
 ries of God's glorious kingdom, and give us fome fore- 
 tafte of our happinefs to come. 
 
 We deceive ourfelves extremely, if we imagine, that 
 eternal happinefs, which is propofed to us in fuch high 
 terms, is to be obtained by flight or feeble endeavours. 
 It is neither a lukewarm devotion, nor a languid zeal ; it 
 is neither a cold, nor a forced, attendance on the houfe 
 or table of God ; it is not a hfe laid out on this world, 
 and ended in a mixture of prayer and terror j it is not a 
 divided fervice, paid half to God, and half to the devil ; 
 it is not a purfuit, in fhort, too faint and carelefs to obtain 
 the fmalleft worldly poflenion, that will procure for us an 
 
 eternal 
 
the ChrijVia?i Covenant. £J 
 
 eternal crown. No ; our endeavours muft bear fome pro« 
 portion to that we aim at. The labours by which eternal 
 happinefs is obtained are reprefented to us in Scripture 
 by climbing a Jieep and narroijj path ; by a ftate of "joar^ 
 in which we are to watch^ to contend, and fghi ; by a race^ 
 which that we may run with the greater ftrength and fwift- 
 nefs, we muft lay afide every weight, and the fin that does 
 fo eafily befet us. In order to thefe mighty labours, and 
 this eager and a6live purfuit, we muft, as much as pofliblc, 
 rid ourfelves of worldly amufements and hindrances. 
 
 What a fhame would it be, how bitterly fhould we for 
 ever curfe our defperate folly, fhould death furprife us 
 purfuing and contending for baubles, and coUedling toys, 
 with a crov 1 of infinite glory in view! Let us rather 
 roufe, and betake ourfelves to better thoughts, and a 
 founder mind. Let us fliake off all incumbrances. Let 
 us ftrip ourfelves for our courfe, and with all the adlivity 
 that our own refolutions, and all the vigour that the grace 
 cl" God, can give us, let us, forgetting thofe things which 
 ar' behind, and reaching forth unto thofe things which are 
 before, prefs with all our might towards the mark, for the 
 prize of the high calling of God in Chnf Jefus ; to whom, 
 with the Father and the Holy Spirit, kt us, in imitation 
 of all good men, render the grateful incenfe of a good 
 life and converfation here, that we may hereafter join 
 with the happy choir of faints and angels, to fing his 
 glorious praifes, for ever. 
 
 D I S- 
 
[ f8] 
 
 DISCOURSE IV. 
 
 The PunilLiiient annexed to the Chriftian 
 Covenant. 
 
 2 Cor. v^ 10, ii. 
 
 We mufl all appear before the judgment -feat of 
 
 Chriji^ that every one may receive the things done 
 in his hody^ accordijig to that he hath done^ whe- 
 ther it he good or bad. 
 Knowing therefore the terror oj the Lord, we per^ 
 fuade men. 
 
 MEN cannot fubfift out of fociety, nor can fociety 
 fubfift without Jaws and government; nor can the 
 laws and government of men be of any force or 
 ufe, if they are not founded on, and fupported by, the 
 law of God ; nor would even the law of God itfelf be 
 of any fervice to this temporal, or to other higher ends, 
 were it not enforced by rewards and punilhments. 
 
 As therefore all goodnefs, all happinefs, here and here- 
 after, depend abfolutely on the hope of a reward, or the 
 fear of a punifhment, from God, we muft conclude, that 
 fuch rewards and punifhments will adually be diftributed 
 to all men with infinite juftice ; and that, as the great Ruler 
 of the world is infinitely wife, thefe rewards will be fo glo-. 
 
 rious. 
 
The Fim'ijhment annexed to^ &c. 59 
 
 rious, and theie punifhments fo fevere, as to give fuf- 
 ficienc weight to a law of fuch high importance. 
 
 Thus fpeaks reafon ; and, when the word of God k 
 confulted, it is found to fpeak in the fame ftrain. The 
 reward ot tlie righteous is defcribed there in terms that 
 exprefs an infinite degree of joy, and everlafting glory ; 
 and the punifliment of the wicked in fuch, as may terri- 
 fy them with the horrible profpcd of intolerable mifery, 
 and endlefs difgrace. 
 
 Experience forbids us, however, to hope or fear any fuch 
 happinefs or mifery in this life ; and therefore reafon and 
 Scripture bid us expert them in another. As to Scripture, 
 it alTures us, that God hath appointed a day^ in the which 
 he ilHI judge the world in righteoufnefs -, and that we pall 
 appear before the judgment-feat of Chrifi^ that every one 
 may receive the things done in his hody^ according to that 
 he hath done, whether it be good or bad. Knowing there- 
 fore the terror of the Lord, we, who are appointed to 
 preach his word, muff, by reprefenting that terror in all 
 the dreadful colours divine truth hath given it, endeavour 
 to perfuade men -, to perfuade themi, if we can, to place 
 the terror of God's judgments before their eyes, that they 
 may fear and tremble before God continually, and labour 
 to efcape thofe judgments, by attending to that terror j 
 than which nothing, as the world goes, is more likely to 
 retorm their lives. 
 
 If y€>u will hear me with attention, and bear the fub- 
 je6t with patience, I fliall endeavour, with the affiftance 
 of God's word, to fet forth the certainty, the feveriiy, 
 and the eternity, of thofe punifhments God hath threaten- 
 ed unrepented fin with, in fuch a manner as may prevent 
 your thinking the time iil-fpent, or your fears unnecelfari- 
 ly awakened. 
 
 As to the certainty, that God will hereafter puniflo all 
 wickednefs and ungodlinefs of men, I need not dwell long 
 on it to a congregation of believers, who are perfuaded, 
 that God cannot be wife, juft, or powerful, if wickednefs, 
 triumphant in this world, and perfevered in to the laft, 
 Ihall not be humbled in the next ; who know, that we 
 cannot give up this fundamental article of religion, with- 
 out 
 
6o *rhe T^unijhment annexed to 
 
 out dethroning the Creator and Governor of the world, 
 and feating either blind fortune, or diabolical malice, in his 
 place. 
 
 Hath God employed infinite wifdom and goodnefs in 
 making the world ? and does he employ neither in the 
 government of it ? Hath God condefcended to form, with 
 iuch amazing wifdom, not only the plant, and the animal, 
 but even the infed, too fmall to be feen by the naked 
 eye ? and hath he no care of what he hath made ? Or, 
 is his providence fo taken up in direding the courfe of 
 the feafons, and watching over the minute or inanimate 
 part of his creation, that there is none left for man, whom 
 he hath made only a little lower than the angels^ and to 
 whom he hath put the world in fubje5lion ? Does God 
 number our hairs ? and will he not regifter our a6lions ? 
 If a fparrow, in value but half a farthings cannot fall to 
 the ground without the attention of this univerfai Father, 
 fhall he wink and forget, when the juft man perilhes in 
 the paws of oppreflion and perfecucion ? Can fo wife, fo 
 gracious, a Creator, be fo unjuft and cruel a Governor ? 
 No, no i we might, with more reafon, argue againft the 
 reality of our own being, than againft the certainty of 
 thofe punilhments, which, religion tells us, God will, in 
 a future life, inflid on the wicked. Reafon is by no 
 means fo much concerned to prove, that we exift, as that 
 God is i and that he will render to every man according to 
 his deeds ; to them, who^ by patient continuance in well-do~ 
 '^^•> f^^^ f^f S^ory, and honour, and immortality, eternal 
 life ; but unto them that are contentious, and do not obey 
 the truth, but obey unrighteoufnefs, indignation and wrath^ 
 tribulation and angu'ifl^, on every foul of man that doth 
 evil. While we believe in this, we do but believe, what 
 reafon and common fenfe requires, that the moral world 
 is governed by wifdom and goodnefs equal to thofe that 
 fchemed the natural. But we no fooner look on this as 
 an error, than we regard the whole creation as a vaft 
 body of contradidions, than we level ourfelves with the 
 beaft that perifheth, and God with the author of evil. 
 Let the wicked theiefore be allured, that neither God nor 
 reafon hath lyed to him, when they told him, he fhould 
 
 hereaftc? ' 
 
the Chrifiian Covenant, 6i 
 
 hereafter fuffer thejuft punifiimentof his wickednefs ; and 
 let him now hear, with tingling ears, and a trembling 
 heart, the feverity of thofe torments that await his evil 
 deeds, if he do not fpeedily and deeply repent of them. 
 
 In the firft place, he will be cut off from God, and Jhut 
 out from the kingdom of heaven. Thenfloall he weep, and 
 gnafh his teeth, as our Saviour faith, when he fees Abra- 
 ham, Ifaac, and Jacob, and all the Prophets, in the king- 
 do7n of God, and himfelf thruji out. Plotinus, the hea- 
 then, fays, This alone is fufficient to make a man mod 
 raiferable : And St. Chryfoftom boldly maintains, that to be 
 thus for ever cut off from God, is worfe than all the tor- 
 ments of hell. To be finally and irrecoverably feparated 
 from God, who is the fountain of all happinefs, whofe 
 fmiles are the light of heaven, and the eternal life of the 
 juft, and to be everlaftingly baniihed from the glories of 
 his kingdom, and the blelTed fociety of all that is good, 
 muft be confidered by thofe, who have any knowlege or 
 love of God, as inconceivably afRi6ting. If the old Romans 
 could fo highly value the happinefs of living in their 
 earthly community, as to make banifhment from thence 
 their fevered punifhment, what muft we think of his con- 
 dition, who, by the decree of infinite wifdom and juftice, 
 is forced to turn his back, to all eternity, on God and 
 heaven ! 
 
 In the fecond place, the wicked, being thus baniHied 
 from the prefence of God, is not allowed the wretched 
 hberty of ranging through the meaneft part of the crea- 
 tion, nor through the blanker regions of boundlefs fpace ; 
 but is imprilbncd, with the devil and his angels, in ever- 
 lajling chains. He, who made no other ufe of liberty, 
 but to become licentioufiy wicked, is to be no longer 
 trufted with it. How will his wild ungovernable pride, 
 and other lawlefs pafljons, brook a total reftraint, and 
 an endlefs flavery to the moft tyrannical of all beings ? 
 
 Bur, in the third place, to increafe the mifery of his 
 confinement, it will be attended with circumftances of 
 fhame and difgrace, beyond the power of imagination to 
 conceive. He will be raifed up, as Daniel tells us, Jro7n 
 his Jleep in the dufi of the earthy to fhame, and everlaftin^ 
 
 contempt t, 
 
5a The TunJJmicnt annexed to 
 
 contempt •, to a fhameful expofure of all his abominable 
 crimes, though never fo fecrctly committed ; and to a 
 dreadful condemnation in the fight of angels and men. 
 His whole nature, defaced and foul, as it was, with fin be- 
 fore, will now become tenfold more deformed, and change 
 its already odious appearance into the horrible alpeft and 
 figure of a devil. 
 
 And then, in the fourth place, left fo hideous a monfter 
 fhould any longer pollute the light, or difgrace the other 
 works of God, he Jhall be caft into outer darknefs^ into 
 the blacknefs of darknefs^ where he muft bid farewel for 
 ever, not only to the glorious light ot God's countenance, 
 but to every glimpfe of material light from the fun, 
 moon, and ftars. When he was alive, he loved darknefs, 
 he loved the works of darknefs ; and now he is to make 
 one endlefs night of all eternity, which no dawn, no 
 day-fpring, fhall ever chear. 
 
 In the fifth place, as, during his life, he delighted in no 
 other companions but the wickedeft ol men, fo now he is 
 to have no other in the place of his imprifonment, but 
 devils, and men as wicked as devils ; for he is caft into 
 the lake zvith the devils and the heaft^ and the falfe prephet ; 
 that is, with all the filth and the off-fcourings of the moral 
 world. Here reign the treachery and venom of the old 
 ferpent. Here the invidious difpofitions, and virulent 
 habits, of each fiend, or fiend-like fplrit, will make him a 
 perfefl fagot and firebrand to all the reft. Here pride, 
 rage, envy, malice, mutual reproach, and mutual re- 
 venge, armed with infernal fire, and dragons ftings, 
 will render them the fhocking executioners of Almighty 
 vengeance on one another. 
 
 In the fixth place, all thefe frightful circumftanccsof his 
 mifery are to be heightened by guilt and felf-reproach, 
 by the bitter after-tafte of fin, by the gnawings of that 
 confcious zvorm that dieth not. When hell arms all its 
 torments againft him, this will continually remind him of 
 thofe enormous crimes, for which he fuffers ; will tell 
 him, that God is juft, and force him every moment to 
 repeat the divine fentence againft himfelf. What will it 
 profit him, though the devils IhouW, for a moment, ceafe 
 
 to 
 
the Chriji'ian Covenant. 6^ 
 
 to torment him, fince he is now a perpetual accufer, tor- 
 mentor, and devil, to himfelf ? 
 
 In the levtnth place, his prifon is to be a lake, a fur- 
 nace of fire and brimflone^ thai can never be quenched. 
 Let him confider, before it is too late, if he cannot en- 
 dure the efFecls of fire on the fmalJeft fpot of his fkin, or 
 in the remoteft part of his body, how he will be able to 
 ftand the force of fo vehement a fire, furrounding him 
 on all fides. Let him aflc himfelf, in the words of Ifaiah^ 
 Who (hall dizell with the devouring fire ? Who fJoall dwell 
 with everlafiing burnings ? 
 
 Again, the more efiedually to damp our finful inclina- 
 tions, the future torments of the damned are reprelented 
 in holy Scripture, as a continual death ; the lake of fire is, 
 in the Revelation^ called the fecond death, tl.at death, to 
 which all are made fubjtft through fin, and from which 
 we are redeemed through faith, by the blood of Chrift. 
 
 Now, the firft death, which lafts but for a very little 
 time, is fo fhocking to nature, that it is called the king 
 of terrors; and what then muft be that death, that is never 
 to have an end ? It is a fort of hell to the mind of him 
 who hopes for falvation, even to medicate on the agonies 
 and horrors of dying without end. With what unutterable 
 dread and anguilh then ought it to amaze the foul of the 
 guilty, v;ho cannot but look on it as his eternal portion ? 
 
 Laftly, the fenfe of God's eternal wrath, confidered in 
 itfelf, will infinitely inflame the miferies of the reprobate. 
 God is prefent every-where, and confequcntly prefent to 
 the damned in his indignation and difpleafure: 7/", fays 
 Davids fpeaking to God, I go down to hell, thou art there 
 aljo. We are told in the Scripture, that, when the wicked 
 awake to judgment, they will fay to the mountains and rocks. 
 Fall on us, and hide us from the fa.ce of him that fit teth on 
 the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb : for the great 
 day of his wrath is come', and who fhall be able to fi and? 
 We fee by this, what terrors the very countenance of the 
 Almighty carries in it to the eyes of the guiky. They 
 would be glad to hide themfelves at the centre of the 
 earth, from the fiercenefs of his anger, from thofe looks 
 of indignation at fin. And even in the place of torment, 
 
 if 
 
64 7'/6^ Punifiment annexed to 
 
 if it were poffible for their eyes to efcape his, they would 
 dive to the nethermoft hell to do it. But there, to their 
 unfpeakable mifery, they fee ; and, to their eternal con- 
 fufion, they are feen. Yet they are fo hardened and loft 
 in fin, that all this ferves only to fill them with a dreadful 
 mixture of rage and terror, by which, being driven to 
 an infernal kind of diftraftion, they fear, and yet rail at, 
 God ; they tremble and blafpheme at once. 
 
 Who now can bear to dwell on the (hocking review of 
 thefe punifhments ? How does it terrify the imagination, 
 how does it diftrefs the heart of man, to look down through 
 Scripture into this deep and bottomlefs abyfs of mifery, and 
 to hear the weepings, the wailings, the gnafhings of teeth, 
 the yells and execrations uttered by fo great a multitude, 
 in their extremity of anguilh ! And how do our own 
 guilty confciences, in the midft of this alarming con- 
 templation, re-echo to the horrible concert! Here the 
 guilty are tofied in a boundlefs ocean of mifery, without 
 the leaft patience to weather it, without the leaft profpe<5t 
 of fhore, without the leaft hope of relief from time or 
 repentance. Defpair, eternal defpair, of mercy and relief, 
 will give this puniihment, fo (harp in itfelf, its kceneft 
 point, its moft deadly fting. Were the wicked to be, 
 only for a time, baniftied from God, confined in chains 
 of darknefs, and expofed to infamy ; were he, for a time 
 only, to be ftung with the reproaches of guilt, to be tor- 
 tured in fire and brimftone \ or were he, for a limited 
 time, to endure the frowns of infinite juftice, and almighty 
 anger ; his mifery would be rather purgadve than penal, 
 rather a reward than a puniftiment -, for what proportion 
 do any limitednumber of ages, fpent in mifery, bear to an 
 eternity of happinefs ? Are they not infinitely lefs than a 
 fingle moment to ten thoufand years ? Or, to take the mat- 
 ter in another light, can fire and brimftone reform ? Or can 
 a man learn virtue, and train his foul tp the love of God, in 
 hell ? Or will he, without reformation, be admitted to hea- 
 ven ? Will he be made happy, while he is yet wicked ? Or 
 will he be glorified, while he is ftill a fcandai to the creation ? 
 A.s the inveterateiy wicked muji be wicked Jlill, fo he muft 
 be for ever miferable •, for the da^ of the wicked Jhall come, 
 
 when 
 
the Chriftian Covenant, 6^ 
 
 when their iniquity Jhall have no end. And can the punifh- 
 ment of the guilty have an end, while he flill continues in 
 his fins ? Reafon will not fufFer us to fpeak in this manner ; 
 nor will the word of God. In that we are told, The worm 
 dieth nol, neither is the fire quenched. The Tophet in this 
 valley of Gehinnon is perpeiually burning. The devil., and 
 the falfe prophet^ and whofoever are not found written in 
 the book of life^ are caji into the lake of fire., and torment- 
 ed day and night for ever and ever. The alTuranccs given 
 us in the Scripture of the eternity of hell-torments, are 
 given us in the very fame words that exprefs the eternity 
 of heavenly joys ; to which, for a reafon eafily apprehend- 
 ed, we have no objecflions. If the righteous fhall go into 
 life eternal., as certainly fhall the wicked go awfty into ever- 
 lafiing punifhment -, for the words eternal^ arid everlajting, 
 are put for the fame original Greek word in the twenty- 
 fifth chapter of Sr. Matthew''^ gofpel. 
 
 But here the libertines, and even fome pretended 
 Chriftians, take upon them to fay, God will, afrer a certain 
 fpace of t;rne, to which they feem not willing to give a 
 very great extent, reduce to nothing the fouls of the 
 wicked. Who told them this? Surely not God \ for, if 
 he ever fpoke to man, he averred the very contrary, in 
 often repeated alfurances, and in the moft exprefs and pre- 
 cife terms. No -, it is reafon, they fay, that draws this 
 conciufion, from the injuftice of punifhing temporary of- 
 fences with eternal torments. Many things are fathered 
 on reafon, that reafon knows nothing of, nor ever vouch- 
 ed for. Had nothing been ever revealed concerning this 
 matter, reafon could have given hardly any verdidl either 
 way ; nay, I am afraid, we ihould have had but very 
 flender informations, in any refpe(5t, about futurity, from 
 mere reafon. Now, if in this great affair we are foicedto 
 have recourfe to revelation, we muft take things as we 
 find them there, and not prefume to make reafon 
 prompter to the Spirit of God. 
 
 But I would willingly alk thefe reafoners a few queftions. 
 If the fouls of wicked men are, at a certain time, to be 
 ftruck out of the lift of beings, what example of God's 
 juft indignation at fin will afterwards remain ? How will 
 
 Vol. II, F God'i 
 
6^ ' 'The PuniJJoment annexed to 
 
 God's free, but fallible, creatures be kept within the rules 
 of their duty, when they fee no inftance of his feverity 
 on former tranfgreflbrs ? If men will neither be good nor 
 happy, although they have it in their choice to be both, 
 lliall we arraign thejufticeof God, if, in fpite of their re-? 
 bellion and perverfenefs, he employs them to that only 
 purpofe in his creation, which their inveterate wickednefs 
 qualifies them for ; namely, a moft wholfome, a mod 
 neceflary, example of his juft feverity ? Are they not 
 ftill his creatures ? Hath he not a right to difpofe of them 
 to his own glory, and the benefit of better creatures ? Is 
 their wickednefs to difappoint him at once of all his views 
 in creating them, by putting him under a neceffity of ex- 
 punging from his works a multitude of fpirits, of whofe 
 very wickednefs and punifhment he may, for aught we 
 know, and without our leave, make a thoufand excellent 
 ufes ? Let me afk a ftill clofer queliion of thefe men. Do 
 your confciences upbraid you for paft fins ? Or do your 
 hearts plead for licence in finning ? In either cafe, perhaps, 
 you may miftake a fond wifh for a reafon. Examine 
 yourfelves with a little more fharpnefs and impartiality, 
 by this fure rule, whether you do not more readily give 
 into the criminal amufements, or more freely purfue, by 
 unjuft means, the wealth or honours of the world, than 
 formerly, when you regarded the future torments of the 
 damned as eternal. 
 
 But you may try yourfelves by fome other points of in- 
 quiry relating to the fame important fubjcdl. Do you notdif- 
 believe, or at lead, are you not much tempted to queftion, 
 the locality of future punifliments ? Do you not doubt, 
 whether there is in the creation any fuch place as hell ? 
 And, while you are inclined to think there may be no 
 particular place for fuch punifhments, can you forbear 
 thinking they are no-where } And, fince fuch punifhments 
 are no-where, how can you help concluding, efpeciaily - 
 when temptations fmile on you with more than ufual al- 
 lurements, that there are no fuch punifliments at all? Per- 
 haps, amidfl all this jumble of thoughts, Chriftianity may 
 flill have retained fome remnant of your efteem, and you 
 do adtually yet believe there will be a refurredion. If 
 I this 
 
the Ch?~ijlian Covenant. 67 
 
 this is the cafe, how can you doubt, whether the wicked, 
 confifting again of bodies as well as fouls, fhaH find them- 
 felves in fome certain place ?" Or do you think, that, inftead 
 of being confined, as fuch malefa6lors fhould be, to fome 
 particular place of punifhmcnr, they will have leave to 
 range the creation in queft of new game for their lawlefs 
 paffions? You prize what you call liberty above all things, 
 and therefore, perhaps, cannot believe they will be wholly 
 deprived of it. Do not you obfcrve, how, here again, you 
 take party with the damned ? Or are you fo ignorant of 
 yourielf, as not to know from whence this proceeds? Let 
 me, a fecond time, befeech you to fearch your heart with 
 the utmoft feverity, and, if you find any thing common to 
 them and yourfelf, which whifpcrs thefe infidel furmifes in 
 your ear, to confider it as the fnare of Satan^ and the be- 
 trayer of your foul. 
 
 This very fubjeft may furnilh you with another ufeful 
 topic of felt-examination. One of your turn may have 
 taken it into his head to believe, that all the expreflions in 
 Scripture relating to the. torments ol the damned are pure- 
 ly figurative, particularly, that the fire which is not quench- 
 edy is as merely allegorical, as the worm that dteth not. 
 But although fome of them are figurative, does it follow, 
 that they are all fo ? Or do you objed:, that whereas they 
 are moftly corporal punifhments, the foul cannot be li- 
 terally faid to fuffer them ? No ! does not the ibul fufi^er 
 corporal pains and punifhments in this life .? Does the body 
 ever fuffer any pain ? Is it not the foul only that fufFers 
 fuch pains through the body.? And have you fo foon for- 
 got, that the wicked will have bodies, as well as fouls, to 
 be Judged and punilhed in } 
 
 But fhould it be granted, that the punifhments of the 
 wicked will be purely fpiritual, what will you gain by 
 that .'' Will they not be as great, as grievous, as they are 
 reprefented in Scripture ? May not truth be uttered in a 
 figure ^ And does not the truth of an allegory confift in 
 the clofe and apt fimilitude between the thing reprefented, 
 and the thing reprcfcnting ? Here again, examine care- 
 fully, whether your difbelief of the literal reality of thofe 
 fires, wherewith the wicked are threatened in the word of 
 
 F 2 God, 
 
68 The Pwnifiment annexed to 
 
 God, doth not proceed rather from the horror of your 
 own mind, than from the realbn of the thing ; at leaft, 
 v/hcther a good (hare of your argument is not drawn from 
 the horrible notion you have of punifhmer.t by fire, and from 
 fome degree of guilt, or love of fin, which forces you to 
 wiili tne torments of the wicked were to be a little milder ; 
 and in time, turns this weak wifli, without your perceiving 
 it, into a reaion. But, to come a little clofer to you, do you 
 not fomctimes widi there were no punifliments tor fin at all? 
 Perhaps, either when temptation Icizes you with a pleafing 
 violence, before the committal of a crime, or when re- 
 morfe terrifies you immediately after, you would be glad 
 to hear, that all will hi freely forgiven, without the ago- 
 nies of repentance, and the ftruggles of reformation, if you 
 fhould ever find this to be the cafe, ought you not fenfibly 
 and honeflly to fufpedV at leail, that your argument againll 
 the fuppofition of material fire, in the future punifhment, 
 proceeds from a tenderneis to yourfelf, that byafles and 
 blinds your judgment ? I know of nothing you can objecfl 
 to the faith of the Fathers, fuch as Cyprian^ Chryfojiom, 
 Augujline^ Jerom^ founded on the literal interpretation of the 
 expreffions under queftion, but that the human body can by 
 no means rcfift the vehemence of fuch fires •, and that fuch 
 tortures are too ihocking to be believed. But do you 
 imagine our immortal bodies are to be as frail and perifh- 
 able as thefe, which the worrns are todevour? Cannot he that 
 created gold, which no force of fire can deftroy, create a 
 living body of as firm a texture ? And, as to the otncr part 
 of your objection, that a torture by htsral fire is too 
 fliocking to be believed ; confider what was juft now 
 hinted, that it will be every whit as fhocking, to believe 
 in an equal degree of purely fpiritual torment. But as to 
 fuch fpiritual panifhrnents, as may be hereafter inflided on 
 the wicked, you have no very clear or knfible notions of 
 them j and therefore you are the more wilHiig to admit them ; 
 whereas, were you as well acquainted with them, as with 
 the eifeds of fire, and did you find them, on fome partial 
 trials, to b^^ as fevere, you would, you muft, for the lame 
 reafon, be as ready to objedl to them. So then it is, after 
 all, only the feverity you boggle at. Now it neither depends 
 on you nor me, but on our Judge, to determine, what is 
 
 enough. 
 
the Chrtftjaii Co'venant. ' 69 
 
 enough, or too much, in this refpeft. But it is extreme- 
 ly worth your while leverely to exan:iine, whether the guilt 
 of former tranfgrefTions, or a weak inoulgence for fome 
 lurking irregularity of mind, may not have been the parent 
 of this objection alfo. 
 
 Give me leave to probe another chamber of this ulcer. 
 You believe there will be as many tiegrees of puhifhment, 
 as there are of guilt. So do I. But you ought to be well 
 aware, that you do not make a dangerous ufe of this be- 
 lief •, for if you fhould imagine, that Ibme degrees ot punifh- 
 ment will be fo very gentle, as hardly ro deferve ihe name, 
 and Ihould afterwards, through a partiality and tendernefs 
 too incident to human nature, take it into your head to 
 think your own fins, at word, within thefe degrees, when 
 poflibly the cafe may be f^ir ocherwife, you turn tempter 
 to yourfclf, and give the enemy of fouls leifure to point 
 his batteries another way. You muft be mod grofsly 
 miftaken, if you do not believe, the punifhment to be in- 
 fiided hereafter on the lead criminal of the damned, will 
 be inconceivably f :vere. Hell is hell ; and one hour in its 
 cooled apartment is too much to pay for all the pleafures 
 of this world. Befides, you fhould confider, that he who 
 is cut off from God, and d»ut out of heaven, let his por- 
 tion be what it will in the place of torment, mud have 
 reafon to wifli he had never, during his life, foothed him- 
 felf with diftind:ions in eternal torments, but always fixed 
 his fears on the very bottom of the furnace. 
 
 One little inquiry more, and I have done. Are you 
 not infinitely difguded, both at my fubjeft itfelf, and at 
 the little tendernefs and delicacy, wherewith I have handled 
 it ? Are wc again, you will fay, after all the politenefs, to 
 which preaching hath been of late reduced, to have hell 
 and damnation rung in our ears, and that in naked 
 terms, without the fmalled qualiiication .'' Are people ot 
 tender ears, and delicate minds, to be irightened out of 
 their lenfes, betore they can be put in the way to heaven? 
 Is he good for any thing, who is good through fear ? 
 
 Mod certainly. He that is good, is good, be his mo- 
 tive what it will. W'as fear given you by your Maker 
 for no purpofe ? Be your delicacy never ib great, you mud 
 
 F :? be 
 
7© ^ke Pun'tfizmcnt annexed to 
 
 be dealt with according to the nature God hath given 
 you. But why are you fo ftartled at the found of hell 
 and damnation? If you are innocent, they ftop at your 
 ears : and if you are guilty, furely I am your beft friend, 
 if I drive them home to your heart. Your refentment is 
 a full proof, that my medicine, though bitter, hath been 
 well applied \ and that you are one of thofe patients, that 
 prefer their palate to their life. If you ever recover your 
 reafon fo far as to know, that eternity is longer than this 
 life, you will thank me for not fpeaking fo as to pleafe, 
 but to roufe you. 
 
 For what purpofe, think you, did God fcatter fo many 
 threatenings, fo many dreadful expreffions of terror, 
 throughout his Gofpe! ? Was it, that they fhould never 
 be feen or heard by his people ? If infinite wifdom did 
 right in publifhing them there, his minifbcrs cannot do 
 wrong in repeating them to his people from the pulpit. 
 On the contrary, they mufl be guilty of the bafeft infide- 
 lity, if, through a miftaken tendernefs, either for them- 
 felves, or others they fpare to give loud and frequent 
 warning of them. What fpirit of pride and delufion hath 
 feized the church of Chrift, that the awful fandions of 
 God's law muft either not be mentioned in his own houfe, 
 and to his own people, or fo minced and qualified, as to 
 do any thing rather than alarm the ftupid, and the wicked, 
 the very thing for which God hath declared them to the 
 world ? Are v/e all to be judged before the th'.ene of God, 
 and, if found guilty, punifhed with infinite feverity ? And 
 muft we not be told it? Hear ye, hy& Jeremiah^ and give 
 sar\ for the Lord hath fpoken. Shall we not liften when 
 he fpeaks.^ Behold, he fays, 7 will execute judgment. 
 Vengeance is mine, and I will repay. Depart fror/i me, ye 
 accurfed^ into everlajling fire, prepared for the devil, and his 
 angels. Tophet is ordained cf old ; it is deep and large ; 
 the pile thereof is fire and much wood ; and the breath of 
 the Lord, like a fir earn of brimflone, doth kindle it. How 
 (bail fuch words as thefe be heard without fear and 
 trembling, even by the beft of men ? But with how much 
 greater terror fhould you hear them, whofe guilty con- 
 fcience tells you, j'cti are the man^ to whom thefe words, 
 
 more 
 
the Chrifltiin Covenant, 71 
 
 more terrible than all Sinaih thunders, are uttered? And 
 •^ttyou are the man, who ought to liften to them with a 
 more greedy attention, than to the mufic of angels ; who 
 ought, if you could, fo deeply to ftamp trtcm on your un- 
 regenerate heart, as that all your thoughts might be en- 
 grofled, and all your paHlons awed, by thcfe terrible, but 
 only, means ot reformation in a foul ftupefied by a long 
 courfe of fm. 
 
 Have you any doubts about the reality and feverity of 
 thefe punifliments, as fet forth to you in fo many paffages 
 of Scripture? If you have, confider to what a carelefsand 
 dangerous courfe of life fuch doubts may tempt you, and 
 how fhocking a thing it is, to be under any uncertainties 
 about a matter of fuch infinite concern. Even your doubts 
 ought to make you extremely caudous and wary about 
 your actions 5 for furely none but a madman would run 
 any hazards in a thing of this nature, fo very frightful 
 and alarming, A wife man will not (lake all his fortune, 
 if it will afford him a tolerable fubfiftence, againll an hun- 
 dred times the fum •, for, if he lofcs, he is undone. Much 
 lefs ought you to play heaven and hell, if you think it pof- 
 fible there may be fuch places, againfl all the pleafures of 
 fin, were they ten thoufand times greater than they are. 
 
 But if you have no doubts in this matter, if you 
 firmly believe in the extreme ftverity and eternity of thofe 
 torments, wherewith fin is faid to be punifhed in the next 
 life, you mull be infinitely worf;; than mad, if you be 
 wicked •, for. What Jhall it -profit a man^ if he Jhall gain 
 the whole worlds and lofe his own foul ? Or what Jhall a 
 man give ^ or what fhali fin give him, in exchange for his. 
 foul? Sin, indeed, may give you fome fudden and violent 
 tranfports of pleafure \ but^an you give a loofe to them 
 without confidering in what they end ? How dare you, as 
 Billiop Hall fays, dance for a moment on the mouth of 
 hell, with the peril of an everlafting burning ? If it Ihocks 
 you to fee a man burning alive at a fl:ake. How would it 
 wring your heart to fee him in this horrible torture for an 
 intire day, — for a month, — for a year, — for an age, — for 
 a whole eternity ? Are you fo deeply aff'eded with the 
 torment of another ? Confider then, how you could en- 
 
 F 4 dure 
 
jz The Punijhment annexed, &c, 
 
 dure the fame yourfelf. When you are tempted with the 
 fweets of fin, turn your thoughts to a deep refledlion on 
 the bitternefs of its end ; eternal banifhment from God ; 
 imprifonment under chains of darknefs, under guilt, 
 under fhame, under the wrath of God ; in the midft of 
 fire, of devils, of horror, of anguifli, of defpair, of 
 blafphemy j without intermiflior!, without hope of mercy, 
 without eafe or end. 
 
 Are you Ihocked ? Be fhocked at fin, not at my words ; 
 for they are the words of fobernefs and truth ; nay, the 
 words of tendernefs and charity for you ; words, which, I 
 blefs God for it, the holy Scriptures, and my confcience, 
 ring aloud in mine own ears, as often as the tempting 
 pleafures of fin would fmile, and footh me to]deftru6tion. 
 I deal by you, as I do by myfelf, as God hath dealt by us 
 all ; and furely this is faithful dealing. 
 
 But remember, dearly beloved in the Lord, 1 have 
 blown the trumpet ; I have endeavoured to roufe you from 
 fleep ; I have given you warning of your enemy, and your 
 danger ; and, in fo doing, have laboured to acquit my- 
 felf, as well as to fave you from fin here, and damnation 
 hereafter. It is now your bufinefs to give all your thoughts, 
 and all your fears, to what I have faid, that the labour of 
 this day may not be vain in the Lord. 
 
 Let us now earneftly befeech the good God to fill our 
 fouls with a timely fear of his final judgment, and with 
 fuch an apprehenfion of thofe dreadful torments, to which 
 the wicked, at that great event, (hall be condemned, as 
 may roufe us, from the dangerous fleep of fin, to a new 
 and holy life, through Chrifl Jefus our bleflfed Redeemer; 
 to whom, with the Father, and the Holy Ghoft, be all 
 might, majefty, dignity, and dominion, now, and for 
 eveimore. Amen. 
 
 D I S^ 
 
C73 ] 
 
 f 
 
 DISCOURSE V. 
 
 Of Love towards God. 
 
 Luke x. 27. 
 
 'fkoufroalt love the Lord thy God with all thy hearty 
 and with all thy fouly and with all thy Jlrength^ 
 and with all thy mind. 
 
 WHofoever is not convinced there is a God, muft 
 be an idiot, or a madman. Whofoever believes 
 there is a God, and yet loves him not, muft be as defti- 
 tute of gratitude and goodrtefs, as the Atheift is of un- 
 derftanding. If the proofs of his being are too many, and 
 too ftrong, to leave the mind of one who can think in any 
 uncertainty about it \ the demonftrations of his goodnefs 
 are too great,. and too affecting, to fuffer any coolnefs to- 
 wards him in his heart, who believes any otherwife, than 
 as the devils are faid to do. The faith of devils, becaufc 
 they are without hope, fills them with fear and trembling, 
 and, in all probability, with envy and malice againtt God. 
 But the faith of a man, whofe virtue or reformation gives 
 countenance to his hopes, if it is at all attended with re- 
 flexion, muft infpire him with gratitude and love. 
 
 So great is the natural inducement to this love, that it 
 tjisy feem to a good mind almoft unneceflary to remind 
 
 us 
 
74 Q/ Love towards God. 
 
 us of it by a command. But whereas there are numbers, 
 who, by want of refleflion, or generofity of nature, might 
 become carelefs of improving in themfelves fo neceffary, 
 and fo noble, a turn of mind ; and whereas, of thofe who 
 can and do think, there are not a few, who might ima- 
 gine the love of God not neceffary in themfelves, btcaufe 
 not needed by a being infinitely perfed and happy ^ to 
 leave it not in the power of ingratitude to hide itfelf 
 either in want of thought, or in the bafe pretence of a 
 compliment to the Divine perfection, we are, by an ex- 
 prefs commandment of God himfelf, ordered to love him 
 with all the warmth and affeCtion of our heartSy with all 
 the faculties and powers of our fouls, with all the fenfe 
 and vigour of our minds. And this is the Jirji and 
 great ejl commandment, on which depends the fecond, 
 which is like unto it, Thoujhalt love thy neighbour as thjfelf\ 
 on both, but primarily and chiefly on the ^r(i,hmg all the 
 law and the -prophets^ all our duty and happinels. On 
 faith, the foundation of our religion, is erefted the beau- 
 tiful ftru(5ture of hope -y but it is charity, or the love of 
 God, that raifes this building to heaven, that puts the 
 finifliing hand, and gives perfection, to the religion of a 
 Chriftian j and therefore it is faid by St. Paul to be 
 greater than faith and hope. 
 
 Now this commandment, in bidding us love God with 
 all our hearts. Sec. does by no means abfolutely prohibit 
 the love of every thing elfe ; becaufe, if it did this, it 
 would almofl wholly defeat itfelf -, as we fhall prefently 
 perceive, when we come to (hew how God wooes our 
 love towards him by the enjoyment of the good things 
 he hath bellowed on us ; which neverthelefs could be no 
 enjoyment, did we not in fome degree love and dcfirc 
 them. Befides, he who hath commanded us to love him 
 with all our hearts, hath alfo commanded us by Scripture, 
 and moved us by nature, to love many other things, as 
 our children, our parents, our wives, our benefactors. 
 But thefe we are to love in a degree limited by the end 
 for which we are to love them, and the ufeful purpofes 
 intended by the relation they are made to ftand in to us. 
 This, howevcrj by no means hinders us from loving God 
 
 in 
 
Of Lcve towards God. ^5 
 
 in a much higher degree, even with all the ardour and af- 
 fe(flion that can poffibly warm our hearts. 
 
 But how, will fome llbcrLines fay, can we fuppof^:- God 
 ftiould command us to love him ? Are not his benefits 
 fufficient to win us to this, without his commands ? Is 
 God like one of thofe felfifli hcnetadors among men, who 
 claim returns ? No ; but if any benefadtor hath a right to 
 the gratitude of fuch as he confers his favours on, it muft 
 be God, who gives of his own ; whereas all other bene- 
 fadors only borrow the power to oblige from him God, 
 having an unqueftionable right to our love, may furely be 
 allowed to claim it, if he pleafes, were it for no other 
 reafon, but becaufe the fervice we owe him, would be 
 wholly unworthy of his acceptance, did it not proceed 
 from love. Befides, it ought to be obferved, that this 
 command is a reproach to the tardinefs of our gratitude. 
 God need never, I own, have told us what returns he 
 expc(5ls from us for his infinite goodnefs, had we not been 
 too flupid and infenfible to render him thofe returns un- 
 demanded. 
 
 The truth, however, is, that he requires our love of 
 him, not for his own fake, but for our good, our greatefl 
 good j for, of all things, the love of God conduces the 
 moi\ diredly to raife and dignify the nature of man ; and, 
 of confequence, conduces alfo mofl powerfully to make 
 him happy. It ought therefore to be the firft endeavour, 
 the moil earnefl aim, of every man, to excite in himfelf, 
 by all the ways and means pointed out by reafon, and 
 authorized by religion, an high and ardent love of God. 
 
 That the love of God is the mofl powerful inflrument 
 to refine and dignify our nature, and make us happy, 
 will, I hope, be eafily proved to a congregation of 
 Chriflians. 
 
 Our minds naturally receive a flrong turn and tinflure 
 from that which hath, for a long time, agreeably enter- 
 tained them. Habit ofteii renders things extremely 
 pleafing, which at firfl were very harfh and diftafleful. 
 But, when any objed is qualified, not only by its own 
 nature, but alfo by an habit long indulged, to give us 
 ilrong and high fenfjiticns of pleafure, then it is that it 
 
 begins 
 
y6 Of Love towards God. 
 
 begins to engrofs all our thoughts, to excite a vehement 
 defire, and through that fo to work itfelf into our nature, 
 that, from thenceforward, we infenfibly afllmilate our- 
 felves to it. We naturally grow into a refemblance of 
 what we love, if it is a thing that admits of imitation. 
 Such is the du6lility of the heart, that nature herfelf gives 
 place to imprefTions this way acquired; infomuch that mod 
 men, through the influence of this operative afFedion, 
 generally aflume diftin6lions, both in the eye of God and 
 man, very different from thofe they fet out with. 
 
 Now, as God is of all objcds the mod amiable and 
 excellent, of all beings infinitely the moft gracious and 
 beneficent, he is by nature intitled, at leafl, to the firft 
 and highell place in the heart of man, if not to the whole. 
 If, in virtue of this title from the fuperior excellence of his 
 nature, and the refemblance between that and the nature 
 of man, God hath been early and long pofTefTed of the 
 throne in any heart, we may be afTured, it is now an 
 heart after God's own heart ; and that he whofe life or 
 converfation takes its warmth and motion from it, is a 
 Godlike man. A foul deeply penetrated with the admi- 
 ration of infinite excellence, continually inflamed with the 
 contemplation of infinite beauty, and long tranfported 
 with a grateful fenfe, with an ardent and vehement love, 
 of infinite goodnefs, mufl have copied into itfelf a lalling 
 and happy refemblance of God. An objed, fo habitually 
 admired and loved, cannot fail to ftrike its image irre- 
 fiflibly on the heart. 
 
 As there is nothing fo delightful to him who loves, as 
 the return of love from an object abfolutely pofTelTed of 
 all his affe<5lions, fo there is nothing he pants after, and 
 wooes, with fuch an ardour of heart. While he hath this 
 animating end in view, no labours feem fatiguing, no 
 pains tormenting, no dangers fhocking, if, by refolutely 
 encountering with them, he hopes to render himfelf, and 
 his fervices, acceptable to the being he thus ardendy 
 loves. 
 
 Now, he who loves God, knows that the blefTed objeft 
 of all his defires is not like a man, who, being ignorant 
 of our hearts, may fufpedl the fmcerity of our profelTions, 
 
 nay. 
 
Of Love towards God, 77 
 
 nay, even the purity and difinte reded nefs of our fervices; 
 not like a man, who, being proud or ungrateful, may 
 happen not to fet the proper value on our love. No; he 
 is lenfible God fearches and fees through the heart. He 
 is fure the beft of beings cannot but love thofe that love 
 him. He remembers the words of Chrift, He that loveth 
 me, Jhall be loved of my Father^ and I will love him^ and 
 manifefi myfelf to him. He remembers the words of the 
 Pfalmitl, God preferveth all thofe that love him; and of 
 the Apoftle, All things work together for good to thofe that 
 love God. 
 
 In full affurance, that his love will be abundantly re- 
 turned, he makes it the ruling ftudy and endeavour of 
 his whole life, to give fuch proofs of his love towards 
 God, as he believes God will be bed pleafed with, and 
 to render himfelf, to the uttermofl of his power, a lit ob- 
 ject of the divine love. To this end he labours to fup- 
 prefs and extinguilh in himfelf every inordinate paffion, 
 every impure and corrupt defire ; and, for fo good a pur- 
 pofe, fpares no neceflary adl of mortification •, and there- 
 fore confults not with flefh and blood, but with God him- 
 felf, through his word, as well about the difpofitions that 
 are ofFenfive to him, as about the feverities requifite to 
 fubdue them. 
 
 Having made fome progrefs in this, he takes courage, 
 with the hope of pleafing God on yet a nobler plan, 
 namely, that of introducing into his mind, thus cleanfcd 
 and emptied, a copy drawn from the divine original, of 
 thofe imitable attributes, w!iich he adores in God, and 
 which he knows God is pie ifed to fee us cultivate in our- 
 felves. God, looking down with the tendernefs of a moft 
 indulgent father on the well meant endeavours of a be- 
 loved child, willing to do his beft, but weak and unequal 
 to fo great a defign, fends his Holy Spirit to perfeft 
 what his poor creature and fervant is unable, through the 
 infirmities of flefh and blood, to accomplifh. 
 
 Thus afTifted by his Maker, the lover of God is, as ic 
 were, created anew. A plentiful ftream of wif.lom, 
 juftice, mercy, holinefs, flows from the divine fountain 
 into his foul, and refre flies it with the water of life. 
 
 JFrom 
 
y^ Of Love fowards God. 
 
 From this time forth he is highly acceptable in the fight 
 of God, who will never forfake or forget him. Can a 
 woman forget her fucking child, that fhe fhould not have 
 compaffwn on the fon of her womb ? Tea^ fhe may forget % 
 yet will not God forget this foul that loves him, and is 
 now fo like him, that, as far as the influence of his ability 
 and ftation extend, he is in the Head of God to other 
 men, enlightening the ignorant, guiding the blind, re- 
 lieving the diftrelTed, and, in a word, doing the work of 
 God with a zeal and love refembling that of his otz- 
 itiftring fpirits, who are fent forth to minijler for them who 
 fhall be heirs of falvation. 
 
 The love of God, having led a man by fuch fteps to 
 fo high a pitch of improvement, neither leaves him there, 
 nor fuffers his excellent gifts to be buried in mere fpecu- 
 lative contemplations on the goodnefs and perfecflion of 
 (jod ; but roufes him to an adive fervice of the bleffed 
 Being he loves. He knows that keeping God's com- 
 mandments is the very precife thing by which his love is 
 to be judged of, and his virtue tried ; and, of confequence, 
 that it is the great foundation (for fo much as refts in his 
 power), on which his hope of enjoying God to all eter- 
 nity muft be built. Chrift fays. If you love me, keep my 
 commandments. He who fays he loves Chrift, and yet 
 keeps not his commandments, does but infult him with 
 empty profeflions. On the other hand, it is impoiTible to 
 keep the commandments as Chriftians ought to do, with- 
 out making the love of God the principle of our obe- 
 dience. It is the peculiar excellence of Chriftianity, by 
 which it raifes its beautiful head above all other religions, 
 that thofe who enter rightly into its true genius and fpirit, 
 obey the Divine Being, not through fuperftitious fears, 
 as the Heathen, nor through a low hope of worldly blefif- 
 ings, as the Jews do, but through a noble principle of 
 gratitude and love towards God. St. John tells us, God 
 is love ; and common fenfe muft tell us, that we are to 
 ferve him, not according to our nature, which is finful, 
 but according to his, which is holy, and pure, and good ; 
 for the purity of his fervice, and of our true happinefs, re- 
 quires, that we fliould renounce our own corrupt nature, 
 
 and 
 
Of hove towards God, 7^ 
 
 and be conformed to his -, it being infinitely more reafon- 
 able, that man fhould afpire towards God, than that God 
 fliould defcend towards man, in order to the happy inter- 
 courfe of mutual love. 
 
 As, on the one hand, the lover of God cannot but love 
 virtue, becaufe it is the will and pleafure of God, that 
 we fliould be truly virtuous, which is impofllble without 
 a cordial love for virtue ; fo, on the other, he cannot but 
 hate vice, becaufe he knows it is hateful to God •, nay, he 
 mufl:, in proportion to his love of God, hate every thing 
 that tempts him to fin •, for whatfoever does fo, is the 
 enemy of God -, and furely the friend of God, who lo'[)es 
 him with all his hearty &c. mufl, according to the rule 
 of oppofites, hate his enemies with all his heart, and 
 with ail his foul, and with all his ftrength, and with all his 
 mind. 
 
 It is worth obferving here, that, although the fear of 
 God is a moft ufeful inftrument of reformation in a mind 
 not yet raifed to an higher principle of obedience, it is 
 neverthelefs reafonable to fuppofe, God is much better 
 pleafed with a lefs pcrfeft fervice, proceeding from the 
 love of him, and our duty, than with a very pundual ob- 
 fervance of his commandments, that takes its rife from 
 fear only. We are told by the Apofi:le, that love cafteth 
 out fear. However, it is happy for us, that fear con- 
 tinues to awe us, till love is ftrong enough to fweeten our 
 duty to us. But, when love is perfedt, there is no fur- 
 ther occafion for fear ; the operation of a lower motive 
 being fuperfeded by the prefcnce and power of another, 
 infinitely more worthy of a reafonable creature, and more 
 acceptable to God. 
 
 . Thus it is that the love of God infpires the foul with a 
 love of virtue, and an hatred to vice •, and, by a pleafing 
 power, alike delightful both to God, and the heart that 
 feels it, prompts us to the performance of our duty. 
 Hence arifes a moft comfortable afTurance of God's favour 
 through Chrift, which imparts an happinefs to the mind^ 
 not liable to be greatly impaired, much lefs to be in- 
 tirely taken from it, by ficknelTcs, dilafters, pr death 
 itfelf. 
 
 But, 
 
So Of hove towards -God, 
 
 But, what is infinitely more than all this, the love of 
 God is the very means and foundation of eternal hap- 
 pinefs, not only as the principle of piety and goodnefs 
 here, but as the foul's internal qualification for, and fpring 
 of, all enjoyment hereafter. It is not to be believed, 
 that God will admit fuch into heaven as do not love him ; 
 nor that, if they were there, they could be happy •, be- 
 caufe it is the favour of God, rather than his prefence, 
 or the created glories of his court, that conftitute heaven, 
 and everlafting happinefs. God himfelf is the happinefs 
 of heaven, and of all its hofts. Where God manifefts him- 
 felf in his glory, the highefl luftre of all created thrones, 
 and principalities, and powers, is totally eclipfed, and 
 intirely fwallowed up, in the immenfity of that brightnefs, 
 which breaks from the Infinite Being, as the flars are, 
 when the fun (hineth upon us in his ftrength. 
 
 To thofe who are blefled with this glorious vifion of 
 God, fo ravifliing is his beauty, fo commanding his ma- 
 jefty, fo infinitely fweet the fmiles of his favour, that it is 
 impofiible, even for a moment, to turn their eyes from 
 him, to all the pomp of heaven. The whole hoft of 
 glorified fpirits, tranfported out of themfelves with in- 
 finite love, centre all their attention in him, and drink 
 unutterable happinefs from the river of his pleafures. 
 But ftiii it mufl be remembred, that they enjoy him only 
 in proportion to their love. Without love there is no 
 enjoyment, neither here on earth, nor there in heaven. 
 
 Having thus feen, that the love of God is the moft 
 powerful inilrument to refine and dignify our nature, and 
 the only fpring of our eternal happinefs, it follows, that, 
 of all our endeavours, this, of pofTcffing our hearts with an 
 high and ardent love of God, ought to be the firft, the 
 moft vehement, and the moft conftant. 
 
 Here the important qucftion may be put ; By what 
 means fhall we excite in our dead and fleflily hearts a fuf- 
 ficient love of God, who hides himfelf from us in his fecret 
 places^ in the dark waters^ and thick clouds of the Jkies ? 
 The anfwer is eafy. Thus indeed it is that he comes in 
 ftorm, and tempeji^ and thunder^ to execute judgment on 
 the opprefTors of thofe he loves, as we find it in the xviii. 
 
 Pfalm. 
 
Of Love towards God. 8 1 
 
 Pfalm. Far otherwife does he fliew himfelf to fuch as 
 love him. To them he is a Father, a Saviour, and a 
 Comforter. To them he every day manifefts himfelf by 
 ten thoufand inflances of his wifdom and goodnefs. If 
 we would love God, thefe gracious manifeftations are 
 continually and clolely to be attended to. We fhould 
 confider, that God created us out of nothing, and fitted 
 our fouls for immortality, and for great and endlefs en- 
 joyments. As to the enjoyments of this life, though 
 they are not endlefs, they are, or may be, too confider- 
 able to be overlooked by a grateful heart. The provifion 
 made for them in the innumerable comforts, conveniences, 
 and beauties, even of this world, is an efFeft of infinite 
 bounty and goodnefs. Were I, on this occafion, to re- 
 mind you of them, by what arithmetic fhould I fum up 
 their number .? Or, by what fldll in meafure, calculate 
 their greatnefs .? He hath created the whole globe of the 
 earth to furnifh you with food, raiment, and other ne- 
 celTaries. He hath given you the fpoils of the ox and 
 Iheep to keep you warm, and of the filk-worm to make 
 you gay. His bounty, you fee, flops not at mere necef- 
 faries. He hath laid up for you, in the bowels of the 
 earth, materials for eredling ftately houfes. He hath di- 
 verfified the year into feafons, that each may refreQi your 
 tafte with a fee of new delicacies, after it is tired with the 
 fifh, fowl, fruits, and other nourifliing vegetables, of the 
 former. Nay, he hath even condefcended to regale your 
 fenfe of fmelling with an endlefs variety of odours, one 
 exceeding another in delicacy and fweetnefs. That your 
 ear may be alfo entertained, whilft you feaft on his 
 bounties, he falutes it with the fweet mufic of the grove. 
 When you walk out in a fummer's evening to fee how 
 God bieffes your induitry, open your fenfes to the inno- 
 cent mufic from every tree, to the delicious fmells that 
 breathe from every hedge and meadow. Caft your eyes 
 over the face of nature. See how it fmiles upon you, and 
 decks itfelf out in an hundred beautiful colours to pleafe 
 you. If you have innocence and fenfe to tafte thefe 
 fweets, lay your hand on your heart, and afk it. Whe- 
 ther it can trace, and adore, the bountiful Being that 
 Vol. IL G fpreads 
 
Sa Of Love towards God, 
 
 fpreads forth fuch a lovely fcene of things for your enter- 
 tainment ? If all this does not fufficiently move you, lift 
 up your eyes to the heavens. Behold what a noble arch 
 your Maker hath eredled over your head ! Sec how it 
 bends about you, and compliments you with the centre 
 where-evcr you move ! See the fun, that glorious fource 
 ot light and warmth, who rejoiceth as a giant to run his 
 courie, and the moon, juft rifing to fupply his place ! 
 Smite again on your heart, and fay to it, Did the infinite 
 Being vouchfafe thus to furnilh the heavens, did he con- 
 defcend thus to adorn the earth, for my accommodation ? 
 ' How ought I to love him for his amazing goodnefs ! 
 Hallelujah. 
 
 It is the property of a beaft only to enjoy the creature ; 
 but o{- a man to enjoy the Creator and Giver through his 
 gifts. We defervedly efteem him a brutilh man, who, 
 being entertained by his patron with all forts of delicacies, 
 hnds no pleafure but in the tafte of what he fwallows. 
 The grateful and fenfible gueft enjoys a much higher 
 pleafure in the kind fmiles, and affedionatc exprelfions, 
 with which his great entertainer helps hinv. What a 
 wretched figure mud he make in the creation, who ma- 
 nifeftsin the eye of God, confidered as his benefatStor, no 
 other property but this of a brute 1 
 
 Let no man fay, in the blind nefs of his heart, when he 
 abounds, I neither fee God, nor perceive that he gives 
 me the good things I enjoy ; but I find they proceed 
 from fccond caufes, fuch as my own wifdom and ftrength. 
 Bafe and vain prefumption ! Do not fecond caufes imply a 
 firft ? Who gave thee underftanding ? and, to fay no- 
 thing of God's grace, who gave thee a mind naturally 
 turned to frugality and induftry ? Who gave thee health 
 and itrength ? Are not others, as frugal, as fkilful, as in- 
 duftrious, often, by accidents both at land and fea, which 
 no human wifdom or care could prevent, reduced to the 
 iaft extremity ? Adore not, ungrateful man, your own 
 wifdom, or ftrength, or fortune ; but the Giver. Nei- 
 ther facrifice to your plough, nor to the hand that guides 
 it, nor to the earth that bears, nor to the fun that ripens 
 your iruitSj for diefe are but fecond caufes j but to him, 
 
 who 
 
Of Love towards God. %^ 
 
 who made them all. If you are not blind, lame, bed- 
 ridden, or begging your bread, be thankful to God. If 
 you are in wealth or honour, learn to love him ; and be- 
 ware that thou forget not the Lord thy God, lejl when thou, 
 hafi eaten, and art full, and hafi built goodly houfes, and 
 dwelt therein, thy heart be lifted up, and thou forget the 
 Lord thy God, and fay in thine heart. My power, and the 
 might of mine hand, hath gotten me this wealth. But thott 
 /halt remember the Lord thy God ; for it is he that givetb 
 thee power to get wealth. 
 
 If, in our enjoyment of God's creatures, we forget cuf 
 great Benefadtor (fuch is the curfe entailed on ingratitude), 
 we lofe almoft the whole benefit of what is given us -, or, 
 what is worfe, make it the means of our own ruin. From 
 the beauty and conveniency of the world, and our own 
 portion therein, we fhould learn to love its Maker, who 
 had our accommodation in view when he contrived it. 
 Thus fhould the world, our enemy by the corruption of 
 human nature, become, what it was at firfl:, our friend, 
 our monitor, and an infpirer of love and gratitude. How 
 different a thing is the world to a good and a bad man ! 
 A bad man cannot look abroad into it, but he meets with 
 continual fnares and provocatives to vice. A good man 
 cannot converfe with the world, nor take a walk, either 
 through city or country, but he meets a thoufand things 
 to prompt him to love and gratitude towards God. 
 Thus the good and bad man, out of one and the fame 
 world, make to themfelves two oppofite worlds. Like 
 the bee and the wafp, they extract medicine and poilbn 
 from the fame flower. The unthinking and the low- 
 minded wretch taftes only his food, hears only the found 
 of mufic, fees only the proportions and colours of things. 
 But the fenfible and religious foul taftes God in his food, 
 hears him in the fweets of mufic, fees him in the beauties 
 of nature, and enjoys him in every innocent delight ; for 
 he knows God made and upholds all things by the word of 
 his power. He always confiders, that God gives him his 
 capacity to relifli and enjoy, and gives every thing he 
 enjoys, the power to pleafe. Hence it is, that he never 
 ftops Ihort in the enjoyment of the creature, but is car- 
 
 G 2 ri(?d 
 
$4 ^f Love towards God. 
 
 ried up from thence, by his grateful heart, to a more ex- 
 alted knowlege, and to a more divine enjoyment, of his 
 gracious Benefa6lor. God engages his love by continual 
 benefits, and he wooes the favour of God by the gratitude 
 that accompanies, and, at the fame time, brightens, every 
 enjoyment. Bleffed intercourfe ! that enfures the favour 
 of God, and does fo much honour to human nature. How 
 different a man is this from him, who, although the 
 bounty of God is vifible in his health, and worldly pof- 
 feffions, yet \s fo proud^ that he careth not for God, neither 
 is God in all his thoughts / 
 
 Is it not a very unhappy thing, that the minds of moft 
 men, being fwelled with pride, being continually foli- 
 cited, and fhamefully foftened, by fleflily delights, are 
 apt to reft in them, and lofe fight of Him whofe bounty 
 they abufe ? From this criminal lethargy they feldom or 
 never awake, till Providence withdraws its favours by 
 poverty, or the enjoyment of them by ficknefs. Thefe 
 men, having then nothing elfe to come between God and 
 them, begin fometimes to confider upon what tenure they 
 hold their riches, and to remember, who it was that gave 
 them. They bafl^ in the funfhine of health and profperity ; 
 * but can never fee from whence it comes, till it is either 
 fetting, oralmoft obfcured behind a cloud. 
 
 Great and wonderful although the goodnefs of God hath 
 been to us as men, and in reLition to this prefent world •, 
 yet it is as nothing, if compared to that which he hath de- 
 monftrated to us as Chriftians, in order to our happinefs 
 in a better life. Herein it is, that his compafTion rifes to 
 an immeafurable height, and becomes too great for our 
 conception. His goodnefs, Ihewn to us in the things of 
 this world, was more an aft of his bounty, than his 
 mercy -, can by no means make us happy even here •, and 
 relates intirely to a ftate of things, whith, although it 
 were never fo pleafant, can laft but a few years at the 
 moft. But what he hath done for us as Chriftians, being 
 a pure effeft of his mercy to a guilty race of creatures, 
 and having for its end our deliverance from the eternal 
 difgrace and mifery of devils, and our introdudion to the 
 everlafting glory and happinefs of angels j and for its 
 
 means. 
 
Of Love tcivards Cod. 85 
 
 means, not only a miraculous violation of that nature he 
 had imprinted on the world, but even his own incarnation 
 and fufferings •, is to be efteemed as an infinitely greater 
 and higher demonftration of his goodnefs, than can be 
 found in the being he hath given us, and the world he 
 hath created for us. Had he left us in the ftate of igno- 
 rance and fin, into which, by an abufe of our freedom, we 
 had plunged ourfelves ; had his juft difpleafure deter- 
 mined him to lay on us the reward of our ingratitude and 
 perverfenefs ; our very being, inftead of a blefllng, had 
 become a curfe to us, and the life we are placed in, not- 
 withftanding all the worldly conveniencies provided for us 
 in the prefent ftate of things, a fhort palTage to endlefs 
 fhame and mifery. 
 
 If the bufinefs of our infcru6lion by revelation be con- 
 fiidered, we (hall find in it the marks of infinite patience 
 and mercy. 
 
 When God undertook to be our teacher, we had de- 
 parted from his f frvice to that of idols and devils ; we had 
 ftained our nature with the moft deteftable pollutions ; 
 we had given up ourfelves intirely to injultice and vio- 
 lence •, and, to complete our odious charafter, we were at 
 once ignorant almoft of every thing that was good, and. 
 yet highly vain of our knowlege. We were ignorant, 
 but we needed no inftruftor. We were wicked, but we 
 needed no reformer. We were guilty, we were miferable, 
 but we needed no redeemer. If a man had fervants thus 
 difpoied, he would never once think of reclaiming them. 
 No ; he would with indignation ftripe them, and, having" 
 abandoned them for ever, leave it to their own abomina- 
 ble minds to punifh them. But God, whofe mercy is 
 equal to his majefty and power, thought fit to deal other-' 
 wife v;ith us. He gave us prophets and apofl'les to teach' 
 us the knowlege of himfelf and virtue ; and, knowing that 
 we fhould never * become difciples to fuch flrange in-' 
 ftruflions, if nothing; more than our boafted reafon was 
 employed for that purpofe, he impowered his mefTengers' 
 to work miracles for our conviftion*, that is, he vouch-' 
 fafed to depart from that otherwife invariable courfe of na- 
 ture, which it became his infinite majefty to preferve.- 
 
 G 3 The 
 
86 Of Love towards God. 
 
 The dated rules of nature, and the regular courfe of things, 
 having been found infufficient teachers for fcholars fo ftu- 
 pid, he made ufe of an inverted nature to inftrufl us, 
 that the evident figns of his power, who made and con- 
 trouls nature, might authorize the meflage he fent us. 
 
 If the great work of our redempdon be never fo little 
 confidered by a true Chriftian, it will ftretch his imagin- 
 ation with wonder, and melt his heart with love. A 
 God incarnate ! buffeted ! fpit on ! ridiculed ! hailing ! 
 blefTing ! faving ! dying ! And for whom ? O incon- 
 ceivable goodnefs! O infinite mercy ! for the fons of men! 
 for thofe who call the earth their mother, and the worm 
 their fifter ! for a race of mortals, foul with fin, and hard- 
 ened in guilt ! for thofe who perfecute him ! for thofe 
 who fpit on him, buffet him, ridicule him, murder him ! 
 For them ! What does he propofe to himfelf in thus fuf- 
 fering for them ? To fnatch them from a lake of fire and 
 brimftone, into which they were falling headlong, and to 
 purchafe for them thrones and crowns in heaven. To en- 
 large, by words of man's invention, on this amazing mi- 
 racle of mercy, is to wrong it. It is our duty to entertain 
 the thoughts of it in a temped of grief and confufion, and 
 to adore the bleffed fufferer in filent aftonilhment and love, 
 too great and ftrong for words to utter. 
 
 After all our bleffed Saviour hath done for us, if the 
 Holy Spirit of God did not affift us, our ruin muft ftill 
 be inevitable. The articles of the covenant, made by 
 Chrift between his Father and us, muft be kept on our 
 part ; we muft be thoroughly reformed *, or we cannot 
 be faved. Now we cannot, of ourfehes^ help our/elves. 
 We are not able to change our own nature from finful to 
 holy. It is the Spirit of God only that can do this ; and 
 this, of his infinite mercy ,*^he does, by effedual faith, and 
 faving grace, whenever it is done. Hence arifes a new 
 and great obligation to love, with which every one muft 
 find his heart ftrongly warmed, who is at all lenfible of 
 his own infirmities. How Ihould we love a friend, who 
 would attend us through all the difficulties of life, with 
 infinite affeftion and goodnefs guiding us, as it were by 
 the hand, in the midft of total blindnefs, through a road 
 
 full 
 
Of Love towards God, Sj 
 
 Full of pits and precipicies, and befet with powerful 
 enemies, whom, at every turn, he is obliged to fight with 
 in our defence 1 giving us wife eounfel to prevent the mi- 
 ferable effeds of our own folly ! reftraining us, when we 
 are rulhing into vice and wickednefs ! guiding us out of 
 the way of dangers we cannot fee ! keeping troubles and 
 afRidions at a diftance from us ! or when, through our 
 own blindnefs and obftinacy, we plunge into the midft of 
 them, of his own ftrength, comforting and luftaining us 
 under them ! bearing patiently with our endlefs and ftupid 
 infenfibility of his goodnefs 1 notwithftanding his infinite 
 purity, ftill vouchfafing his company to us, in order that 
 he may reclaim us, although we are fit company only for 
 brutes, and often doing all we can to qualify ourfelves for 
 the company of devils ! With the watchfulnefs, and con- 
 cern, and tendernefs, of an indulgent father, ufing a thou- 
 fand endeavours to retrieve us from fin, to fave us from 
 eternal mifery, and to condud us to eternal glory ! All 
 this, and infinitely more than we can exprefs or conceive, 
 the Spirit of God himfelf vouchfafes to do for us unwor- 
 thy creatures. Here is love, here is friend fliip, in per- 
 fedion. O ibai men would therefore praife the Lord for 
 his goodnefs^ and declare the wonders that he doth for the 
 children of men! But his bounty to us, as men, is not 
 more ftupidly overlooked by the moft ignorant Pagans, 
 than his mercy to us, as Christians, is ungratefully neg- 
 lefted and forgotten by thofe, on whom it fhines con- 
 tinually, from his word and ordinances, with all the 
 charms of infinite tendernefs and pity. 
 
 Our fhameful unworthinefs, our more than brutal in- 
 fenfibility, afford almoft as large a field for refledtion, as 
 God*s goodnefs. I fhall not wander into a detail of th« 
 reproachful particulars -, but only obferve, that we fhall 
 never know to what an height our love of God fhould be 
 carried, till we humble ourfelves with a jult compariibn 
 between his goodnefs, and our ingratitude. 
 
 To draw towards a conclufion, what is it that God ex- 
 pedis in return for all his goodnefs ? If we have the lovt 
 ofGody it will keep us unfpot ted from the world-, and then 
 God Ihall dwell in us^ and we in him. From hence fhall 
 
 G 4 fpring 
 
8 8 Of Love towards God. 
 
 fpring a fweet enjoyment of peace, and mutual love, to 
 all eternity. On God's part every thing will be done to 
 ftrengthen this blefled union. And, as to ours, we muft 
 be extremely careful, that nothing prefume to rival him 
 in our afFeflions •, we muft abhor what he hates ; we that 
 love the Lord muft fee that we hate the thing that is evil. 
 On the other fide, we muft love that which he loves ; 
 and, like him, be watchful on all occafions to do good, 
 and to (hew mercy. We muft receive his corrections 
 with humihty, and an unreferved refignation. Nay, we 
 muft not content ourfelves with refignation only ; we 
 muft be thankful for the fevereft of his difpenfations, 
 knowing, and calmly confidering, that they are really fo 
 many marks of his fatherly affeftion for us. According 
 to the known rules of friend ftiip, no doubts, nor mur- 
 murs, nor fuUennefs, nor mifconftruftions, muft be fuf- 
 fered fo much as once to take poffefTion of our minds. 
 If they do, they v/ill cool, and nfiay foon extinguifti, our 
 affection for him. 
 
 But that our love for God may not only be kept alive, 
 but advanced to higher, and ftill higher, degrees of warmth, 
 it fhoufd be our bufinefs to refledl continually on the 
 goodnefs and mercy of God ; in order to which, if we 
 are not ftupidly inattentive, we can never want a remem- 
 brancer, fince every hour of our lives will bring us frefti 
 inftances of his tendernefs, fufficient to remind a grateful 
 heart of all his former goodnefs. 
 
 Next to this, no other expedient can be thought of, fo 
 ufeful to keep up the warmth of a lively love towards 
 God, as the continual exercife of devotion, as well pri- 
 vate, as public. By this the intercourfe between God and 
 our hearts will be always kept open, and his mercies, of 
 all kinds, feelingly recolle6led ; for thankfgiving makes a 
 neceffary part of prayer. But no other kind of devotion 
 ftrikes fo diredly, or fo powerfully, at this excellent end, 
 as that moft exalted a6t of thankfgiving, the receiving 
 the facrament of the Lord's fupper. In that we comme- 
 morate the greateft of the divine mercies, with a due 
 fenfe of which when the heart is warmed, it is then in a 
 
 proper 
 
Of Love towards God. 8p 
 
 proper difpofition to confider and adore the goodnefs of 
 God in all his other difpenfations. 
 
 O my brethren ! brethren in want of gratitude and 
 goodnefs ! I am equally diflatisfied, on this occafion, with 
 you and myfelf; with you for being able to hear, with 
 your ufual coolnefs, a difcourfe on the love of God ; a 
 fubjed fufficient of itfelf, although never fo defectively 
 handled, to raife in every heart, not wholly deftitute of 
 religion, fuch ftrong emotions of fhame for its own un- 
 worthinefs, and of tendernefs for God's inconceivable good- 
 nefs, as no command over the eyes, the face or hands, v 
 could conceal. And I am indeed deeply diflatisfied with, and 
 afhamed at, myfelf, for the miferable poverty of thought, 
 ■&nd languor of exprefTion, wherewith I have handled the 
 moft atfedting of all fubjedts. I cannot help regarding 
 this with the utmoft grief^ as an experimental proof of 
 my being unwarmed with a fufficient meafure of that glo- 
 rious grace I have been recommending. Were not this 
 really the cafe, Why was not every period on fire ? Why 
 was it not attended with ardour when it was fpoken, and 
 with tranfport when it was heard .? Wretches that we are ! 
 W^e fpeak and liften here, in the prefence of God, on the 
 fubjeft of all his mercies, with fuch a temper and indo- 
 lence, as we never fhew, even in regard to the trifling in- 
 cidents of meat, drink, or drefs. The tongues of an- 
 gels, and fongs of feraphim, are unable to exprefs our 
 obligations ; and yet an infant, or an idiot, might utter all 
 |:he fenfe of them we feel in our ungrateful hearts. 
 
 Since then, either through my weaknefs, or your in- 
 fenfibility, I do but fpeak to the air, I will here put an 
 end to the vain attempt, and leave it to the great Bene- 
 fadlor to do jullice to his own infinite favours, by preach- 
 ing to you on the incxhauftible fubjedl, through his works, 
 his words, and his grace. Let every frefh inflance of his 
 goodnefs, and your ingradtude, put you feelingly in mind 
 of all that is paft, that, comparing the one with the 
 other, you may learn to love him, and deteft your- 
 felves. 
 
 And let us, in the mean dme, earneflly befeech the 
 ever merciful and gracious Being to crown all his other 
 
 bleffings 
 
po Of L&ve towards God, 
 
 blefllngs with this, a grateful heart, and an eternal love 
 of him, to whom we owe ourfelves, and all we enjoy, 
 or hope for, through Chrift Jefus our Redeemer. Now, 
 to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy 
 Ghoft, be all might, majefty, dignity, and dominion, 
 now, and for evermore. Amen, 
 
 DIS- 
 
tpl ] 
 
 DISCOURSE VI 
 
 On the Fear of God. 
 
 Proverbs xiv. 26. 
 In the fear of the Lord isflrojig confidence, 
 
 BEFORE we can have a right notion oi^ the fear of 
 the Lord here fpoken of, we muft know what/^^jr 
 itfelf is. Now this is a matter of more difficulty 
 than is commonly imagined. It may feem a little fur- 
 prifing, that we fhould ftill be at a lofs to underftand the 
 pafTions and afFe<5lions of our own minds, which we feel 
 every moment, through which we receive the greater 
 part of our happinefs and mifery, which are the imme- 
 diate motives and fprings of all our aftions. But man is 
 in all other refpe<5ts, as well as this, a myftery to him- 
 fejf It proceeds from our not rightly underftanding the 
 paflion o^ fear, that we are fo much at a lofs to fettle the 
 true diftindion between courage and cowardice. He is 
 comnjonly efteemed brave, who is void of fear •, and he 
 a coward, who is afraid of danger. Were this a true ac- 
 count of the matter, every man would be both an hero, 
 and a coward ; an hero, becaufe there is no man who is 
 not fearlefs in refped: of fome things ; and a coward, be- 
 caufe there is no man that is not frighted at fome things. 
 
 Fear was made an ingredient in our nature for wife 
 
 purpofes i and therefore we muft conclude, it hath its 
 
 3 proper 
 
p2 On the Fear of God, 
 
 proper objeft and end, in refped of which it is certainly 
 wifdom, not cowardice, to be afraid. Cowardice then 
 confifts in nothing elfe than placing our fears on a wrong 
 objefl, and fearing that which is neither dangerous nor 
 dreadful, but in our own imaginations. 
 
 When the author of the apocryphal book of Wifdom^ 
 fays. Fear is a betraying of the fuccours which reafon of- 
 fereth, he defines not the pafiion itfelf, but fpeaks of its 
 excefs, which we call a panic -, for his account of it is as 
 true of all the other ' palTions, when wrong applied, or 
 tranfported beyond the check of reafon. There is not 
 one of them that does not, in that cafe, for the time, put 
 it out of a man's power to think deliberately, and judge 
 foundly. 
 
 We fhall, I believe, define fear more juftly, if we 
 call it that pafTion of the mind, whereby an uncertain 
 evil, or fomewhat that may hurt us, is apprehended. We 
 are not afraid of evils or beings we have no notion of. 
 Neither do we fear that evil, which we are fure will hap- 
 pen to us ; no more than we do that which we adlually 
 lufFer. The fenfe we have of fuch, is grief or forrow. 
 It is true, however, that this fenlation is ufually attended 
 with fear ; but then that fear never arifes in our minds, 
 excepting when we are uncertain as to the greatnefs of the 
 evil, not yet thoroughly tried, or of our own ftrength 
 and patience in bearing it. Fear is never found without 
 feme uncertainty -, and therefore is always accompanied 
 with hope, and always rated by the feeming probability, 
 as well as greatnefs, of the evil. 
 
 • If fear then is the child of ignorance, ought it not to 
 be defpifed for the meannefs of its birth ? By no means, 
 provided- it helps us to avoid the mifchiefs ariiing from 
 the blindnefs of its parent ; which indeed it does •, and in 
 fo/ioing is our only fubftitute for wifdom. It teaches us 
 to grope the way we do not fee ; or to fit ftill, till fome 
 profpeft of fafety in ftirring is afforded. In this refped; 
 it is extremely uleful to beings fo fhort-fighted as we are,' 
 by furnifhing caution, where prudence, and deliberation, ■ 
 where experience, is wanting. It is plain, that he who, 
 thus circumftanced, is reftrained from aflion by his fears,. 
 
 2 la 
 
On the Fear of God, 93 
 
 is not a coward, becaufe did he ad, though ignorant of 
 the iiTue, we fhould pronounce him rafh and tool-hardy. 
 What makes a blind man lift his feet higher, and take 
 fhortcr fteps, than other men ? Is it not the fame reafon, 
 that obliges us to ufe the like caution in the dark ? And 
 are we not in the dark as to all events, which we cannot 
 forefee ? If neceflity forces, or probability encourages us, 
 to anions, when the fuccefs is yet doubtful, is it bravery 
 to be as quick and expeditious, as in cafes where we have 
 a clear profpeA before us ? No ; here our fears are the 
 monitors of our reafon ; and teach us, if time will allow, 
 to make litde trials, and fmall approaches to the bufinefs 
 in hand, that we may forbear altogether, if we find rea- 
 fon to diQike the bufinefs •, or change our meafures, if 
 judged unpromifing. 
 
 Such are often the difficulty and perplexity of our affairs, 
 fuch the danger that may attend them, manage them as 
 we will, and fuch the fhort-fightednefs of our minds as 
 to what ought to be done, that were we not thus afTifled 
 by dur fears, v/e fhould generally buy wifdom by expe- 
 rience at too dear a rate ; and before we could acq:;.ire 
 the Ikill to ad right, fhould frequently lofe the power of 
 ading at all. It is Jiappy therefore that fear flays to re- 
 flrain us, till wifdqm comes to relieve it, and takes away 
 that ignorance, which was the caufe and juflification of 
 our fears. 
 
 Who then is the coward .? It is he,. who, judging amifs 
 of things, and putting his imagination in the place of his 
 reafon, takes that for dangerous, or dreadful, which is 
 really neither -, and is feared from the purfuit of his duty, his 
 interefl, or his happinefs, by that which hath no being, or 
 that which could no way obftrud his purfuit, or even that 
 which might aflift him therein. We call him a coward, 
 becaufe we expeded more refolution from him ; and we 
 expeded more refolution, bscaufe we think he ought to 
 have had more fenfe. But we certainly cenfure him un- 
 juflly, if we charge him with more fear than ignorance, 
 or with more ignorance than his opportunities of know- 
 lege put it in his power to avoid. 
 
 And 
 
P4- ^'^ ^'^^ F'ear of God. 
 
 And who is the brave man ? It is not he who is altoge- 
 ther fearlefs, for there is no luch man j but he who knows 
 what ought to be feared, and fears that alone ; whofe un- 
 derftanding is led by the real reafons of things, and fol- 
 lowed by an heart fteadily refolved to execute whatever 
 his judgment Ihall recommend. This man knows thofc 
 things to be fafe and good, which others take to be dan- 
 gerous or evil ; that is, he knows them to be highly 
 good in the end, altho' fomewhat painful in the purfuit ; 
 and, having weighed the one againft the other, while his 
 judgment aims at the good, his heart defpifes and tram- 
 ples on the pain. 
 
 How then ? does courage refolve itfelf into wifdom, 
 and cowardice into ignorance ? They fo far aftually do, 
 that if you totally take away his ignorance from the 
 coward, he can no longer fear ; and if you as totally 
 ftrip the brave man of his wifdom, you reduce him to a 
 madman, who encounters pain and trouble, which he 
 feels, for a good, which he knows not either how to 
 rate, or arrive at. Since both the hero and the coward 
 have the palTion of fear, how can you otherwife, than on 
 the principles laid down, give them fuch oppofite appel- 
 lations ? The truth is, that in this, as well as other mat- 
 ters, we are too apt to afTign wrong caufes, and give 
 improper names, to things. Can a genuine coward be a 
 wife man ? Or can an hero be a fool ^ No j but wifdom, 
 fays the world, is one thing, and courage another ; and 
 between ignorance and cowirdice there is the fame dif- 
 ference. A man often knows what is beft for him 
 to do ; but fears to do it, on the account of the pain 
 or danger that may attend it. Rut I fhould be glad 
 to know, whether he ever declines the aftion, unlefs 
 when the pain and danger are higher in his imagination, 
 than the good he hopes for in the adion. If they really 
 are, and ought not to be, he is, in that refpeft, far from 
 being a wife man •, and it is flill his ignorance that deno- 
 minates him a coward. If wifdom and courage be not 
 the fmie thing, it is certain, however, that wifdom is ab- 
 folutely neceflliry to true courage, and cannot be feparated 
 from it even in thought. BiiE rhe vulgar miftake in this . 
 
 matter 
 
On the Fear of God, 95 
 
 matter proceeds from that fhare, which the conftitution 
 and fpirits are apprehended to have in our fears and refo- 
 lutions. Now, granting this to be as great as you pleafe i 
 yet when high fpirits prompt to refoUition, is not that 
 refolution ra(hnds, if wifdom does not countenance it ? 
 And when low fpirits forbid our attempts, is our back- 
 wardnefs to be called cowardice, if right reafon forbids 
 as well as they ? All that can be faid on the fubjeft may 
 be fummed up in this, that our paflions prompt us to 
 fortie adions, and deter us from others ; but our obedi- 
 ence, in either cafe, is neither to be called virtue nor 
 vice, till right reafon approves or prohibits. Refolution 
 therefore is not a virtue, is not courage, till reafon 
 vouches for it •, nor is fear a vice, if avoidable ignorance 
 is not at the bottom of it. 
 
 From this explanation of fear it follows, that nothing 
 can concern us more than to know what we ought, and 
 what we ought not, to fear -, becaufe none of our paflions 
 hath a greater Ihare either in our condu6t or happinefs. 
 Whatfoever motives we may have from other paflions, 
 or from our affeftions, for what we do, fear always in- 
 terferes, and puts us fenfibly in mind of the evils to be 
 dreaded, in cafe we do it not. Here flie feconds the 
 other fprings of adtion, although but indiredlly •, where- 
 as, when Ihe forbids us to adt, or prevails on us to deli- 
 berate, file either takes the lead of all the refl:, or dire<5lly 
 oppofes them. Hence it appears, that in all parts of our 
 condudt this paflion is deeply concerned -, which ought to 
 convince us, that an infinite deal depends on the right or 
 wrong application of it. 
 
 It is true, that fear is that one of all our paflions, 
 which gives us pain alone. Anger hath its revenge, love 
 its enjoyment, hope its probability; and even envy makes 
 a feaft on the miferies of others : But fear only bodes, for- 
 bids, alarms. Yet Vv^e can no more rid ourfelvcs of it, 
 than we can make ourfelves over again, or bellow a new 
 nature on our being. Nor ought we indeed to wifli it, 
 becaufe infinitely greater evils muft follow from the want 
 of it. All we have to do, in order to make it highly in- 
 itru mental to our happinefs, in order to make us fear, 
 
 without 
 
p6 On the Fear of God. 
 
 without being cowards and fools, is^ to look out for its 
 proper objedt, and, if poflible, for an objed which alone 
 ought to be feared, that our apprehenfions may be no 
 •longer abufed, or difTipated. Here the true religion 
 comes in, and points out this objed; to us. But it is no 
 iboner known to be God, than our libertine prepofTefTions 
 are apt to obje6t, that God, of all beings, is leaft: to be 
 feared ; becaufe he is infinitely good. Now I fay, that 
 even as fuch, he is infinitely more to be feared by us than 
 all other beings ; and for this flrong realbn, becaufe 
 we are not good. Can the Almighty Being be good, 
 without being juft ? or juft, without being feared by 
 creatures fo corrupt and frail ? Does he not govern the 
 world he made, and will he not judge that world in 
 righteoufnefs ? Can fin be hid from fuch a Governor ? Or 
 can it efcape unpunifhed from fuch a Judge ? We, who 
 are fo prone, by nature and habit, to fin ; we, who 
 are aiTaulted by fo many temptations from without, and 
 betrayed by fo great weaknefs from within, ought furely 
 to fear him, who knows all things, and who can forget 
 nothing •, who is of fo great power, that he doth what he 
 will, both in heaven and earth -, who is of fuch inconceiva- 
 ble majefty, that the earth and the heaven Jiy away from 
 hefore his face; who makes jufiice and judgment the habi- 
 tation of his feat ; who will render to every man according 
 to his deeds, to them who, by patient continuance in well- 
 doing, feek for glory, and honour, and immortality, eter- 
 nal life ; but unto them that are contentious, and do not 
 obey the truth, but obey unrighteoufnefs, indignation and 
 wrath, tribulation and anguifh, upon every foul of man that 
 doth evil; but glory, honour, and peace, to every man 
 that worketh good. Nay, even the mercy of God is 
 a reafon for our fears \ for the Pfalmift fays, there is 
 mercy with thee : therefore flo alt thou be feared. 
 
 What now was fear made for, if not for this objefV, 
 in all refpefls fo infinitely awful ? too wife to be de- 
 ceived ! too juft to be byalfed 1 too mighty to be refifted ! 
 too great, too glorious, too majeftic, to be thought of 
 by angels without infinite reverence, or by men, guilty 
 men, without terror and trembling 1 
 
 In 
 
0« the Fear of God. 97 
 
 In refpe^t to all other objedls of fear, we may obfervc, 
 that the more we know them, the lefs we tear them. 
 The firft attempts, in thinking minds, are always at- 
 tended with fear. The firft fpeech before a great aflem- 
 bly, the firft ftorm at fea, or the firft battle, (hake thofe 
 minds which gather confidence, and contraft a contempt 
 for their former terrors, from a further tamiliarity with 
 fuch trials. This ft»ews experimentally how ignorance 
 and rawnefs are concerned in our fears. The fear of every 
 thing, but God, waits on ignorance, and frightens us in 
 the dark, like phantoms, that ftiun the approach of light. 
 But in relpedl to God, it is quite otherwife •, the more 
 we know of his holincfs, and our own viienefs, the more 
 reafon we find to fear him, inafmuch as we cannot pofli- 
 bly judge what refolutions he may have formed as to the 
 eternal Itate of our fouls. Some men complain of ob- 
 fcuricy in his word; but without reafon ; for we may eafily 
 fee therein, what are the terms on which pardon and 
 mercy are offered. But we cannot fo eafily under- 
 ftand ourl'elves, or find out whether we are compre- 
 hended in thofe terms ; whether we have that faith, that 
 repentance, that charity, which are neceffary to intitle us 
 to the promifes, and exempt us from the threatenings, 
 that are annexed to our covenant. Hence muft unavoid- 
 ably arife fuch deep and keen apprehenfions, as nothing 
 but a total reformation of manners, that only fign of 
 peace with God, can ever banifh. 
 
 As reafon fhould diredl all the pafiions to their proper 
 objefts, fo it fhould place our fear, in particular, on that 
 Being, who only hath it in his power to make us happy or 
 miferable. From him all our pleafures and pains, all our 
 joys and forrows, proceed ; and therefore on him fliouid 
 we turn all our fears, difdaining to humble them to in- 
 ferior caufes, that can affeft us no farther than they are 
 permitted or directed by the firft-moving Caufe of all 
 things, the abfolute Difpofer of all events. Here we 
 fhould liften to the advice of our bleffed Saviour, who 
 thus accofts us by the name o^ friends ; Be not afraid of 
 them that kill the body^ and after that have no ntore that 
 they can do. But I will forewarn you whom you fkall fear : 
 Vol. II. H . fear 
 
gS On the Fear of Goa. 
 
 fear him who^ after he hath killed^ hath power to lafi into 
 hell. Tea., I fay unto you., fear him. 
 
 Ir is God then whom we (hould, not principally, but 
 only, fear. It is grois ignorance, it is {uperfbition, nay, it 
 is a degree of athei^'m, to fear any thing elfe \ for who- 
 ever hath embraced the true religion, ought to know, 
 that all things ehe are his inftruments, not even except- 
 ing the wicked, who, although they ad by a will con- 
 trary to his, are ncverthelefs over-ruled, and forced into 
 his fcrvice, in their mufi rebellious adions ; fo that be the 
 power they are for a time permitted to exercife, what it 
 will, God will in the end be found to have been the 
 mafter, and they the fervants, though fervants whofe 
 wages is death. 
 
 The wifdom and happincfs of fearing God will appear 
 as evident as the fore-mentioned motives that excite it, if 
 we refleft on the admirable euedfs it hath on the mind. 
 Give me leave to fingle out fome of the moft diftin- 
 guifhed. 
 
 Firft, It gives us practical and faving wifdom. 'The 
 fear of the Lord is the beginning of wifdom : a good under- 
 ftanding have they that do his commandments. A wife man 
 feareth^ and depart eth from evil. Nay, it is even called 
 v/ifdom itfelf -, The fear of the Lord, that is wifdom., and 
 to depart from evil., is underftanding. -If it is by fear and 
 trembling that we are to work out our falvation., then hap- 
 py is he who fears God •, happy he who trembles at the 
 apprehenfions of his dilplcafure, and is thereby roufed to 
 repentance, and newnefs of life, which will bring peace 
 at the lafi. But fall happier he, in whom fear comes 
 before fin, and prevents the neceffity of repentance. Such 
 a man owes true wifdom to that which appears a weak- 
 nefs in other men, for no other reafon but becaufe their 
 fears are funk beneath the digniry of their nature, to 
 things of littlii impoitance, of no power, or perhaps of 
 fuch tendencies and difpofitions, as ought to have made 
 them defireable, inftead of dreadful. He who fears God, 
 fears to ofrend him : now, of all men, there is none 
 wifer than he, who is void of offence towards God ; to 
 whom ^'cngeance belongeth, and who will fur ely repay. 
 
 Thought- 
 
On the Fear of God. 99 
 
 Thoughtlefs libertines may call this fear flavifii and 
 cowardly, if they pleafe •, but fince it prcferves us in our 
 duty, and guiues us to happinefs, we fiiall be bold to 
 cfteem it wifdom, rather than that fort of rel'olution, 
 which laughs at hell, and is frightened at the ftumbling 
 of an horfe ; which infults God with b):ifphemous rib- 
 baldry, and horrible wickednefs, while ir poorly trembles 
 at a funeral in the next hcufe. Little minds mufl: have 
 little fears, for want of fufficient fenfe and greatnefs of 
 foul to afpire towards a nob'er object of apprehenfion. 
 
 It is true, the love of God is a much nobler motive to 
 a6t on, than the fear even of him. But this fear is the 
 fureft road to that love, and therefore is rightly called 
 the beginnmg of wifdom. Such is human infirmity, that 
 repentance feldom begins in a mind accuftomed to fin, on 
 high and generous confiderations, but rather on lower 
 motives, fuitable to that abjed fenle of things, which a 
 courfe of wickednefs never fails 10 leave behind it. Hence 
 it is, that the fear of God is, for the moft part, neceffary 
 to begin the hippy woik with. No favours, no blefllngs, 
 can win thofe, who have run on for a confiderable time 
 in a courfe of wickednefs, to turn and behold the goodnefs 
 of God. They love and purfue other objects, more fen- 
 fible and more prefent to their defires. But when God, 
 to draw their attendon to himfelf, prefents his rod, and 
 difplays his terrors, their fears immediately rake the 
 alarm. Their other pafllons are hufhed and awed, and 
 the whole force of attention liltens to the chaftifino; leflbn, 
 through the awakened dread of a ftill fevtrer vifitation. 
 When, by this fatherly expedient, God hath put a ftop to 
 the career of fin, and is himfelf become the obje6l of 
 meditation -, in proportion as repentance advances, he 
 changes his looks, lays afide his rod, and prefents himfelf 
 to the heart, overwhelmed with fear, in a form fo love- 
 ly, fo exprefllve of pity, fo full of mercy, as never fails 
 to change the fear of the penitent into reverence, and 
 melt his foul into love and Ihame, which puts the finifl:- 
 ing hand to his reformation. There is nothing fo apt to 
 fill us with love, as forbearance and favour from one, 
 who, we know, hath not only the power, but a right, 
 
 H 2 to 
 
100 On the Fear of God. 
 
 to deftroy us. But we feldom confider either this power, 
 or this right, in God, till he makes ns tafte an earneft of 
 it in fome alarming corredlion. When this, however, is 
 done, and hath, by the grace and blelTing ot him who 
 laid it on us, roufcd us from fin, and new-fet the heart 
 to a courfe of piety and obedience, we have then little to 
 fear from God, nothing indeed but what may proceed 
 from the apprehenfions of a relapfe. Then God and our 
 fouls are become mutual obje«5ls of love. The gracious 
 Being is all tendernefs to an heart broken by repentance, 
 and humbling itfclf before him. No friend, no father, 
 can feel the bowels of compaffion for us, that foften the 
 heart of God to the true penitent. As the anger of God 
 is now changed to pity, fo ought the apprehenfions of 
 the truly reformed to be converted into hopes, his horrors 
 into love, his doubts into truft, and his forrows and tears 
 into confolation and joy. As the heaven is high above the 
 earth, fo great is the mercy of God towards them that fear 
 him. As far as the dafi is from the weft, fo far hath he 
 removed their tranfgreffions from them. 
 
 Now, was that fear, which produced fo happy a re-, 
 formation, a low or flavifli pafilon ? Did it argue him a 
 coward, who durft no longer contend with God, nor 
 rifque his foul on a trial between Almighty vengeance, 
 and human impenitence ? Was he a fool for being re- 
 formed ? No ; next to him who never greatly fell, this is 
 of all men the wifeft •, and if he perfeveres in his new 
 courfe of virtue, in fpite of all his fpiricual enemies can 
 do to beat him from it, we ought to pronounce him a 
 man of true courage, a glorious conqueror of himfelf, 
 though the fear of God fiiould ftill continue to keep him 
 on his guard. Such we have reafon fufficient trom the 
 word of God to believe he will appear at that day, when 
 the now ftupidly triumphant libertine fJoall call on the 
 hills to hide him, and the mountains to cover him, from the 
 face of him that fitteth on the throne, and from the wrath 
 of the Lamb. The fears of the penitent will then appear 
 to have had infinitely more wifdom in them, than all the 
 boafted reafon, and conceited fubtiities, of the felf- fufficient. 
 Nay, thefc truly wife and virtuous fears will appear on 
 
 that 
 
On the Fear of God, lor 
 
 that occafiOD to have had more of true courage in them, 
 than the filly fwagger of the infidel. 
 
 Having now feen, that the fear of God is the firft, the 
 mod powerful, motive to reformation, and the beft pre- 
 fervative of vigilance, as long as there is any danger of a 
 relapfe ; we fhall eafily perceive the mtaning of my text, 
 and be able to afllgn the reafon, why in the fear of the 
 Lord there is ftrong confidence. That fear fhould beget 
 confidence, ftrong confidence, feems, at firft fight, to be 
 againft the nature of things ; but when we confider, that 
 it is the fear of God, the obfcurity clears up, and ftiews 
 the fentiment to be one of thofe deep or dark fayings, 
 wherein confifted great part of that wifdom, for which the 
 antient eaftcrn fages were fo famous. The fear of God 
 produces an awful attention to his commands, and keeps 
 us fteady to our duty •, duty, although at fiift performed 
 through fear, if perfevered in, naturally ends in piety \ 
 piety cannot long poftefs the heart, without improving 
 into love ; and love is no fooner brought to maturity, 
 than it cafieth out fear^ that is, all uneafy boding fears ; 
 and begets confidence -, confidence in whom ? Why, in 
 God ; whofe promifcs are truth itfelf, and whofe power 
 is boundlefs. 
 
 He who fears, as he ought, that Infinite Being, who 
 doth what he will in heaven and earth., fo that none can 
 flay his hand., or fay unto him., What doji thou ? takes care 
 to put himfelf under the protedion of that Being, as his 
 fervant and dependant ; and, while he ferves the Mafter 
 of the world, enjoys all the fecurity and afllftance omni- 
 potence can give him. If he is ignorant, his Mafter is 
 omnifcient ; if he is weak, his Mafter is almighty ; if he 
 is a diftance when his enemies are fcheming his ruin, his 
 Mafter is there, for he is every-where, and ready to dif- 
 appoint their malice. In this fituation, although he is 
 but a creature, wifdom itfelf is his guide, and power it- 
 felf his proteflion. Thus fupported, thus guarded on all 
 fides, whom or what hath he to fear, though earth i^nd 
 hell, though men and devils, were combined againft him ? 
 
 To be more particular, fhall this man tremble at op- 
 prefTion, or fear the frowns of the great ? Great do I call 
 
 H 3 thsm 
 
102 0?i the Fear of God. 
 
 them loijo jhall die, who JJjall be made as grafs ? No, they 
 are wretchedly HttJe ; and he that fears God, Ihall hold 
 both their malice and pov/er in contempt. There is little 
 room to fear a man, though he ftands on an hillock a 
 lltde higher than his neighbours, if we ff:ar God, who is 
 higher than the higheji^ and who^ we know, regardeth, 
 when the proud exalt themfelvcs ngainft his fervant. The 
 labourer need not dread the fteward, fince tiie coinmon 
 Mafter of both fliall not always fufFer the one to opprefs 
 the other, but fhail level them in death, and rank them 
 afterwards, not according to the Nations they aded in here, 
 but according to the duty and refpeft they paid to his 
 commands. Then fliall he that humbled hinifelf with the 
 fear of God, be exalted •, and he that exalted bimfelf to a 
 contempt of every thing good and facred, be debafed, and 
 brought low, even to hell. God, at the fame time that 
 he inculcates the fear of himfelf by the greatnefs of his 
 works, forbids, the fear of iiien, who are as grafs, and 
 nothing, in comparifon of him. /, even T, am he that com-: 
 forteth you : ivho art thoUy that thoujlsouldftbehfraidofd 
 man? andforgettefi the Lord thy Maker ^ "joho hath ftretch'ed 
 forth the heavens^ and laid the foundations of the earth? 
 
 The fear of God will alfo arm us againft the fear of 
 cenfure. He need not much regard the opinions of men, 
 who, through the apprehenfion of God's difpkafure, is 
 doing his utmoft to approve himfelf to the Searcher of 
 hearts. If he hath the fmallefl hope of fucceeding in an 
 attempt fo very exalted, he will be under no manner of 
 uneafinefs about their opinions or remarks, who only 
 guefs by appearances, and fee no more than the mere 
 furfaces of things. He will find little temptation to be 
 vain when they applaud, or afhamed when they con- 
 demn, who know nothing to the bottom, and judge of 
 what they do know, by prejudices {o grofs, and rules fo 
 foreign to reafon, that he hath the beft chance to pick 
 fenfe and truth out of tiieir reflections, who interprets 
 them, as he does dreams, by contraries. Mankind are 
 miferably enflaved to foolifh and wicked cufloms, which 
 they prefer, on all occafions, to reafon, duty, religion -, 
 nay, to, what they value far above thefe, their prefeiit in- 
 
 tereft 
 
0?i the Fear rf God. 103 
 
 tereft and convenience. By thefe cuftoms they regulate 
 their behaviour v^ith an exadlncfs never fhevvn in regard 
 to the lavifS of God or man. And by thefe they judge of 
 perfons and things, efteeming every thing right that is in 
 the mode, and wrong, that is out of it. Now he that 
 will not fubrait to be regulated by rules, the obfervation 
 whereof cofts the world both fo much pains and money, 
 nay, frequently their fouls, is of courfe hated and afperfed, 
 as a defpifer of that which others refpeft, and confe- 
 quently as a defpifer of them. In this light he meets with 
 far lefs toleration, than the pimp, the fharper, or the 
 adulterer. If he will neither be drunk, nor make others 
 drunk •, if he will keep up a neighbourhood with none 
 but the honeft, and the religious ; if he makes a ditrerence 
 between dining with a gentleman, when his wife fits at 
 the head of the table, and dining with him when his 
 (trumpet fills the fame place ^ he is a madman, or an 
 hypocrite, or a creature void of common manners and 
 civility, Vv'ith whom there is no living in fociety. But if 
 this man truly fears God, he v.^ill hear their railleries juft 
 as he does the barking of fo many dfgs ; or, in cafe he 
 lays any flrefs on what they fay, will conftrue all their 
 cenfures into applaufes, and blefs God for beftowing that 
 fear on him, which fets him free from a defpicable ftate 
 of flavery, prided in, and yet fuffcred with impatience by 
 the reft of the world. What liberty, what courage, 
 what a nobly fingular fort of heroifm, does the fear of 
 God, in this remarkable inftance, communicate to a good 
 Chriftian ! None but they who know the world, and have 
 been often diftreflTed between its abominable cuftoms, and 
 their own virtue, can do juftice to the magnanimity of 
 fuch a man. 
 
 In the next place, the fear of God will rid us of all appre- 
 henfions about future events, whether wilhed, or dread- 
 ed, by vain men, under an imagination, that good or ill 
 fuccefs are in all things fuitable to the precarious judgments 
 they form of themfelves, and v;hat is .fit for them. Why 
 fhould we fear that which can never happen, but by the 
 appointment or permilTion of Him, who difpofes all events, 
 and will certaii'ily fo difpofe of them, as to promote the 
 
 H 4 piincipal 
 
104* On the Fear of God. 
 
 principal happinefs of fuch as fear and obey him ? Fortune 
 is the idol of fools. Providence alone direfts and orders 
 all things. If they ever feem accidental, it is owing to 
 our (hort-fighteclnefs, who cannot comprehend the un- 
 fearchable Ichemes of infinite wifdom ; and to our vanity, 
 who think there muft be evil, or accident, in that which 
 we cannot account for. But it is quite otherwife with 
 him, who, fearing God, finds there is nothing elfe to be 
 feared. The event of his fuit at law, or of his intereft 
 at court, give him no concern. He knows God is in 
 both places, and will order every thing for the beft, by a 
 wifdom, v^i.ich he dare not prefume to judge of. If he 
 is in battle, hz knows the God of battles is there alfo, 
 and will choofe life or death for him, with infinitely more 
 wifdom and goodnefs, than he is able to choofe with for 
 himfejf. While other?, in the fame fliip with him, are 
 at fea in a ftorm, anxioufiy wifling for one thing, and 
 miferably dreading another, he is on a rock, calmly wait- 
 ing for the will ct him, whom he feared as much at land, 
 as here at fta. For the fame rcafon, the whole train of 
 luperftition, dreams, omens, goblins, devils, with which 
 the imaginations of others are 'io haunted, make no im- 
 prefTion on his. In fearing one reality he is guarded againft 
 all thefc imaginary terrors. He knows that which hath 
 no being, cannot pofTibly hurt him -, and that which hath 
 both being and malice, he confiders as deftitute of power 
 to injure him, becaufe fubjedl to that all-ruling hand, 
 which binds the great dragon in chains. If his fear of 
 God enables him to triumph over the devil in his more 
 dangerous capacity, as a feducer, he hath reafon to look 
 with contempt on him, as a terrifier or tormentor. 
 
 Laftly, the fear of death, that lafl and greateft of tem- 
 poral terrors, is fwallowed up in the fear of God. He 
 that rightly fears God, confiders himfelf as equally under 
 the divine power in life and death, and in either world. 
 As to death itfelf, he knows it is a gate that leads to 
 God i a gate, at which he is to take a final leave of all his 
 infirmities, to pafs beyond the reach of temptation, be- 
 yond the art and malice of the devil, beyond a moral 
 pofllbility of ever falling from God. His body, he is 
 
 fenfiblej 
 
On the Fear of God. lOf 
 
 fenfible, may be loaded with ficknefs, and his fpirits lunli 
 in the gloom, which nature throws on this paflage j but 
 he knows this will foon be at an end, at an happy 
 end, where he will meet his Comforter, ready to difpcrlc 
 his fears •, and his Redeemer, prepared to prefent him in 
 peace to the Father of mercies. This draws the fling 
 out of death, and gives him that well-grounded calmnels 
 and courage at the laft, which he never felt who fell for 
 ambition in the field of battle, nor he who facrificed his 
 blood to falfe honour in a duel, nor he who, like a 
 coward, took fhelter in felf-murder from a fmall part of 
 that calamity his fins had deferved. 
 
 Every one fears according to his fenfe of things. One 
 fears pain ; another poverty ; another Ihame ; fome dread 
 the frowns of the great, and fome the agonies of death. 
 Almoft every one fears fomewhat that he need not fear ; 
 that is, every one is a coward in fomething, but he, 
 who, having wifely balanced the weight of things, and, 
 finding all things light and infignificant, in compari- 
 fon of God, fears God alone. Of all men the martyr 
 may be moft truly faid to fear God ; for he would trem- 
 ble at the moft diftant thought of denying him, who 
 purchafed him with his blood. But does this fear unman 
 him ? No ; it gives him a refolution, in cold blood, infi- 
 nitely furpaffing all that drums, trumpets, armies, and 
 the profped of empires, can raife in the breaft of the moft: 
 ambitious. Let perfecution feat itfelf on a throne, and 
 try him with the frowns of power ; let it ftiake its laOi, 
 and rattle its chains, and point to its loathfome dungeons, 
 it fliall find his foul raifed infinitely above all its menaces. 
 Let death prefent itfelf in its moft hideous drefs, let it 
 foam on the jaws of the wild beaft ; let it groan from the 
 crofs ; let it devour in the fiery furnace ; he fhall meet it 
 with a fmile, he fliall embrace it with a calm and fteady 
 joy •, nay, he ftiall blefs and pray for thofe who inflift it. 
 Is it not true then, that in the fear of the Lord there is 
 firong confidence? 
 
 But here fome will fay. How comes it to pafs, that we 
 fo feldom iee the fear of God produce thefe courageous 
 pffedls ^ Why h^ve they who feem to fear God moft, as 
 
 quick 
 
lo6 On the Fear of God. 
 
 quick a fenfe of danger as other men ? Granting the fad, 
 ^hich may very well be queftioned, it will not afFed: what 
 I have been faying ; becaufe I have been recommendino^ 
 the religious application of this paffion in its higheft per- 
 fedion, fuch as it fliews itfelf in faints and martyrs ; and; 
 not the partial ufe of it, as it appears in men, who are 
 but half religious. Did we fear God as we ought, we 
 Ihould be loft to common fenfe, before we could poflibly 
 dread any thing elfe ; becaufe all things elfe, as i have 
 already obferved, are only inftruments in his hands, and 
 ean neither ftrike nor wound but as he direds them. We 
 do not fear a gun, nor a fword, although inftruments of 
 death, in the hands of a friend. Now had we, by fear- 
 ing and obeying God, made him our friend, we fi:iould 
 have as little reafon to fear the inftruments of vengeance 
 in his hands. Nay, I muft infift, that, guilty as we are, 
 or poflibly can be, our fear of every thing, but God, is 
 ridiculous, becaufe nothing, but God, can hurt us. I 
 know a thief dreads the gallows. But is he not in this as 
 much a fool, as a thief? What would the gallows be to 
 him, more than any other tree, were there no laws nor 
 magiftrates to make that gallows an inftrument of juftice 
 on him ? 
 
 This moft fenflefs miftake of fearing the effect rather 
 than the caufe, of dreading the inftrument, rather than 
 the perfon who wields it, is the fource of all our firis and 
 fufferings. It keeps us bufy in eluding effeds, when we 
 ought to beware of the caufes. - It tempts us to tly to 
 v/eak helps, and infufficient defences, when wc ought to 
 make our peace with the Firft Caufe and Governor of all 
 things, whofe mercy, like his power^ k dver all his tvorks ; 
 and Vv'ho therefore, did we duly fear and apply to him, 
 would at once remove all vain, all davifh, caufe ol appre- 
 henfion from us, and make uspeiiedly fafe againft every 
 thing that could hurt us. Then fickiAeis, poverty, death, 
 and the like, if ihflided on us, would change their nature 
 from evil to good, and would only refeiinble medicines^ 
 that are ten times more falutary to the whole body, than 
 they are bitter to the palate. Then eternal damnation it- 
 felf, rnftead of -being dreaded by us, would become our 
 
 fecurity 
 
On the Fear of God. 107 
 
 fecnrlty againft our enemies, in the fame manner as the 
 gallows and gibbet are the fecurity of the honeft and 
 peaceable man, againft the robber and the murderer. 
 
 After all, fince I have mentioned the courage infpired 
 into faints and martyrs by the fear of God, as a perfedt ex- 
 emplification of my do6lrine, they who differ with me, may 
 afk, how the prophet Elias, and the apoille St. Paul, could 
 fhew fo much fear of human power, as they remarkably 
 did upon two occafions •, the prophet, when he fled from 
 Jezebel ; and the apoftle, when he made his efcape from 
 the prefe6l of Bamafcus •, or how St. Peter could, in fo 
 daftardly a manner, forfwear his Mafter ? 
 
 In anfwer to this, I muft remind the objeftors, that 
 thefe holy perfons were but men ; yet fuch men, as fliewcd 
 a refolution in other parts of thtnr conduft, fjfficient to 
 juftify the truth of what I have endeavoured co eftabiifii. 
 I did not, I do not, fay, the fear of God can be carried 
 to the perfe(5lion wherein I have defcribed it, without the 
 afllftance of God's grace, which he may increafe or re- 
 mit, on particular occafions, as he (hall judge proper. If 
 on any occafion a man fhall fhew a contempt of tyranny 
 arid death, we muft conclude he does it on principles and 
 cbrifiderations, about which he is more alarmed, than 
 about all that human power can do to him. If on others 
 he fliews a lower way of thinking, this may refleft oh 
 him, but cannot depreciate either the reality or virtue of 
 his nobler principle. It only fhews he cannot alv/ays 
 carry his heroifm to the utmoft height. Gregory the 
 Great gives a good account of this matter, in regard to 
 the three holy men we are fpeaj^ing of. Of Elias he fays, 
 " Left the faints fhould be elevated with pride, their 
 " very virtues have certain meafures and bounds prefcribed 
 '* to them. Hence it is, that Elias, while he rifes through 
 " fo many virtues and powers, is checked and limited by 
 " certain bounds, as appears, after all, by his flying from 
 " Jezebel, who, although a queen, was neverthelefs but a 
 *' paltry woman. I confider this man, of furprifing 
 " power, calling down fire from heaven, burning the 
 " captains with their fifties, fhuttlng up the heavens, left 
 " it fi:iould rain, opening them again for the contrary 
 
 " purpofe, 
 
io8 On the Fear of God. 
 
 «* purpofe, raifing the dead, and prediding future events ; 
 " and yet, behold ! it occurs to my thoughts, how fear- 
 «* fully this very man flies from one forry woman. I can- 
 ** not but refleft on the man, fo ftruck with fear as to afk 
 *' for death at the hand of God, without receiving it, and 
 " yet flying from a woman, left he fliould meet with it ; 
 " for he fought for death, while he (hunned it. It is 
 " enough for me •, take away my life^ &c. Whence there- 
 *' fore was he fo ftrong in the exercife of thofe furprifing 
 ** powers ? Whence fo weak as thus to be terrified by a 
 " woman ? The holy men of God themfelves are both 
 *' able to do great things by the power of God, and yet, 
 *' on the other hand, bounded by their own infirmities. 
 *' Elias knew by thofe powers, what he had received 
 " from God ; and by thofe infirmities, what he was capa- 
 *' ble of in himfelf. But as that power was virtue, fo 
 ♦' that infirmity was the guardian of his virtue.'* As to 
 St. Paul, he fpeaks thus •, "I will utter myfelf freely, 
 " O Paul •, doft thou now behold Jefus in heaven ? and 
 *' now fly from a man on earth .'' Art thou caught up into 
 " heaven^ and taught the fecret words of God, and 
 *' neverthelefs tempted by the mejfenger of Satan .? How fo 
 " ftrong as to be rapt up into the heavens.'' How.fo 
 " weak as to fly from a man on earth .'' Unlefs becaufe 
 " he who raifed you fo high, confined you to certain 
 *' bounds, that, while by your miracles you preach up 
 " the power of God, you might by your fear put us in 
 *' mind of our own infirmity.'* He delivers himfelf in 
 much the fame manner concerning the prevarication of 
 St. Peter. " Behold, he, formerly fo fearful, now fpeaks 
 *' with tongues ; now fparkles with miracles ; boldly re- 
 " proves the infidelity of priefts and princes ; fets others 
 *' an example of authority in preaching Jefus ; is forbid 
 *' by the fcourge to fpeak in his name, but not deterred ; 
 " he defpifes the ladies of the fcourgers, who a little be- 
 *' fore feared the very words of thofe who inquired about 
 " him ; he who trembled at the power of a maid, now 
 ** preflTes on the power of princes in the midft of ftripes ; 
 " for why ? Being now confirmed by the power of the 
 *f Hqly Ghoft, he trod qn the lofty things of this world 
 
 *' with 
 
On the Fear of God. I op 
 
 " with the heel of liberty, that he might fliew the defpi- 
 *' cable lownefs of every thing that prefumes to fwell or 
 " exalt itfelf againft the grace of God." This he feems 
 to have copied from St. Chryfojiom^ who fays of St. PeteVy 
 " He who formerly appeared fo very weak, as thrice to 
 " deny his Mafter, is now kept fo firm, by the inftru- 
 " 6lions of the Spirit, that we lee him rulhing, like a lion, 
 " on the people of the Jews, and defpifing a thoufand 
 " dangers, and death itfelf* St. Paul ftates the thing 
 in relation to himfelf, and confequently, in relation to St. 
 Peter, Elias, or any other holy man fo circumftanced, 
 better than either of the Fathers. Having, in his fecond 
 epiftle to the Corinthians, told them how he had been 
 caught up into the third heaven, he fays, Lejl any man 
 Jhould think of him above that which he feeth him to be, or 
 that he hearcth of him -, and likewife left he Jhould be ex- 
 alted above meafure through the abundance of the revela- 
 tions ; there was given to him a thorn of fin in the fiefJj, 
 the mejfenger of Satan to buffet him. For this thing, he 
 fays, he befought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from 
 him ', and that Godfaid unto him. My grace is fufficient for 
 thee, for my firength is made perfe^ in weaknefs -, that is. 
 My divine power is carried up to perfedlion in the midft 
 of thofe infirmities, wherewith the men I beftow it on, 
 demonftrate the prefence of my power, as fuperior to 
 their own, in thofe parts of their condudl wherein I 
 think fit to manifeft myfelf. 
 
 Since then an holy fear of God is the work of grace ; 
 and fince God is pleafed to beftow his grace on us, fo as 
 fometimes to leave us to our own weaknefs, that we may 
 learn humility and vigilance by a fall into fears more 
 fuitable to our nature, than our faith ; let us earneftly 
 befeech him to preferve us from greatly or finally fall- 
 ing ; and, when we do fall, to raife us again with greater 
 ftrength to a fteady and refolute purfuit of our duty, 
 to the glory of his goodnefs and power, through Chrift 
 Jefus our Saviour; to whom with the Father, and the 
 Holy Spirit, be all might, majefty, dignity, and domi- 
 nion, now, and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 D I S- 
 
[ no] 
 
 DISCOURSE VII. 
 
 A Prefervative againft Temptations. 
 
 Prove rbs xvii. 3. 
 
 Ithe F'mi?2g-pot is for Silver ^ and the Furnace fof 
 Gold J but the Lord trieth the Hearts. 
 
 IN the original languages the fame words are often ufed 
 for trial and temptation •, and fo it is likewife in our 
 old Englijh. Hence it is, that although St. James tells 
 us, God cannot he tempted with evil, neither tempteth any 
 man, yet Mofes aflures us, that God tempted Abraham, 
 when he commanded him to ficrifice his fon. In our 
 language ufe hath now made it otherwife •, for to try is 
 taken in a good fenfe, and may be applied to God ; 
 whereas to tempt is at prefent always taken in a bad fenfe, 
 and can only be applied, in flridtnefs, to the devil, or his 
 inftruments. The difference between the trier and the 
 tempter lies in this ; he who tries, wiflies we may refift ; 
 whereas he who tempts, wiflies we may yield. God, in 
 this latter fenfe, temptefh no man, that is, Jeadeth no 
 man into fin -, but, in the former fenfe, he tempteth all 
 men, that is, he tries their faith and obedience, not for 
 his own information, becaufe he knows all men, and 
 forefees all things ; but for the exercife of their virtue, 
 and the manifeftation of his own jullice and mercy. In 
 order to thefe ends, the wifdom and goodnefs of which 
 
 we 
 
A Prefervative cigamll Temptations, 1 1 1 
 
 we fliall prefently perceive, he tries our works^ if we may 
 believe St. Paul, as by fire^ and lays open, to ourfelves 
 or others, both the principles of our minds, and the dif- 
 pofitions of our hearts, by a kind of torture refembling 
 tliat, wherewith the qualities di fiher are proved in the 
 fining-pot, and the purity o^ gold in the furnace. 
 
 There are many of fo foolilh, fo libertine, and fo athe- 
 iftical, a turn of mind, as to argue, that, if a Being of 
 infinite wifdom and goodnefs prcfided over the world, he 
 muft, above all things, provide for the happinefs of men ; 
 and confequently could neither tempt them himfelf, nor 
 fuffer them to be tempted, becaufc temptations might lead 
 tliem into iin, and fin into mifery. 
 
 To anfwer this, it will be proper to Ihew, that, whe- 
 ther men are tried by God, or tempted by the devil, 
 God is juftified in permitting the one, and doing the 
 other. 
 
 After this is done, it may be of fome ufe to confider, 
 I>ow we may fo think and aft under thefe circumftances 
 of trial and temptation, as to elcape the fnares of our ene- 
 my, and approve ourfelves the faithful and worthy fer- 
 vants of God. 
 
 That we may, in o.ur own minds, the more fully juftify 
 God in trying us himfelf, or permitting us to be tempted 
 by the devil, or his inftruments, let us confider firft, that 
 the world muft have been a work utterly unworthy of its 
 Creator, had he not given being to rational and moral 
 creatures. Without thefe, the earth, the fun, the moon, 
 and the ftars, had conftituted a great and beautiful, but 
 an ufelefs machine. The heavenly bodies would have 
 lent their light, and the earth its fruits, only to beafts and 
 infefts. And if there are any works of his above, ftill 
 more excellent and glorious than thofe we fee, they muft 
 have been known only to himfelf, and ferved for a vain 
 experiment of his wifdom and power, had no angels, no 
 cherubim, nor feraphim, been created to enjoy them. 
 
 Again, had no rational nor moral creatures been made, 
 God himfelf could never have been known, but to him- 
 felf; the infinitely wife Being had never given any de- 
 monftracion of his wifdom •, the Almighty had never 
 I (hevin 
 
112 A Prefer'uattve agairijl Temptations i 
 
 Ihewn his power ♦, the gracious and good God had never 
 Ihewn mercy, or done good ; the moft communicative 
 and beneficent Being muft for ever have kept all happinefs 
 to himfelf, and never have imparted the leaft fhare of it 
 to any other being ; and confequently muft have been 
 without love or honour to all eternity. 
 
 As this had been diredly contrary to his whole nature, 
 and all his attributes, we muft conclude, that all his other 
 works were made for the enjoyment of rational and moral 
 beings ; and that, had not fuch been created, tne only 
 good and wife end of all his lower works had been want- 
 ing. 
 
 Obferve, I join moral with rational, becaufe we know 
 of no rational creature, that is not, by the original frame 
 of his nature, fo far morally free in fa6l, as he is rational. 
 Whether God could have endued a creature with reafon, 
 and yet made him incapable of a moral choice, as we are 
 not concerned to determine, fo we need not ftay to inquire. 
 The thing, however, feems impoflible. He is not a ra- 
 tional creature, who can neither perceive, nor be taught 
 to perceive, fuch a difference between a good and evil re- 
 folution, as is fufficient to fix his choice. Befides, if nei- 
 ther God, nor his works, could have been known, with- 
 out the creation of intelligent beings, it is as plain, they 
 could not have been fo known, as to anfwer the ends of 
 infinite wifdom and goodnefs in giving them underftand- 
 ing, had he not alfo given them freedom -, for, to what 
 purpofe ftiould we know thofe attributes of God, if it is 
 rot that we may love and adore him for the glorious ex- 
 emplification of both ? And how could either our love or 
 adoration be worth his acceptance, were they forced, were 
 it not in our power to with-hold them, or freely and grate- 
 fully to pay them for the infinite favours we receive ? It 
 is furely more worthy of God to court, than to compel, 
 the acknowlegements and fervices of his reafonable crea- 
 tures. But all muft be either infcnfibility, or com- 
 pulfion, if his creatures are not free, as well as ra- 
 tional. 
 
 But, fccondly. What is a rational being ? Is it not one 
 that can know God, and, in fome degree, underftand and 
 
 enjoy^ 
 
A Prefervative againft Tejnpfatiom. 113 
 
 enjoy his works ? And what: is a moral being ? Is it not 
 one, who, knowing God and his duty, is free to perform 
 that duty, or neglefl it, to choofe good or evil, and to 
 be rewarded or punifhed, according to its choice ? Now, 
 is it not a contradiction in terms to fay, there can pof- 
 fibly be a morally free creature, who cannot choofe evil, 
 who cannot tranfgrefs the rules of his duty ? Does not 
 this way of fpeaking, when applied even to the infinite 
 Being, appear contradictory to our narrow conceptions ? 
 
 If then there muft be creatures, not only rational, but 
 morally free, thofe creatures muft be fallible, and capable 
 of falling from their duty. Yet nothing can be plainer, 
 than that they could never fall from their duty, nor com- 
 mit the leaft fin, were they never tried wiih any tempta- 
 tion to fin. A rational being never does, never can do, 
 any thing, good or ill, without fome motive to incline 
 his will •, which, although it fhould not be a juftifiable mo- 
 tive in itfelf, yet ferves for a rcafon to him, and fo ftrong 
 an one too, as makes him, in fome inftances, do that, 
 which he hath other ftrongreafons for not doing. 
 
 It is true, a moral agent may be in himfelf free, and 
 capable of finning, when no temptation to fin is thrown 
 in his way -, for his moral freedom does not depend on his 
 being, or not being, expofed to temptations, but on the 
 frame and nature of his own mind. Yet it muft be 
 granted, that, if he was never tempted, he could never 
 tranfgrefs -, and, confequently, though in himfelf a free 
 agent, muft for ever a6l by neceflity, and not choice. 
 
 Now, let it be confidered, thirdly, That, if all tempta- 
 tions to vice were withdrawn, there could be no virtue ; 
 becaufe virtue confifts precifcly in refiding temptations to 
 vice, and in abftaining from wicked actions, wlien we are 
 ftrongly allured to the committal of them -, and in doing 
 good ones, when great difficulty and pain throw them- 
 felves in the way to deter us. II then if were always eafy 
 and delightful to do good, and always difficult and pain- 
 ful to do evil, we ftiould, it is true, be ever employed in 
 good, and never in evil, aCtions •, but this would neither 
 argue freedom nor virtue in us ; we fhould no more de- 
 
 VoL, II. I ferve 
 
114 A Prefervative agalnji Tempt athns. 
 
 ierve a reward for this, than we do for eating when we 
 are hungry, or drinldng when we are dry. 
 
 Thus we fee, that, if our libertine obje6lors were to 
 model the world to their minds, they would utterly banifh 
 out of it all voluntary goodncls and virtue ; and that, on 
 their principles, we are to expeft no goodnefs from them, 
 unlefs a good a<5tion is always made extremely pleafing to 
 them in the very performance, and a bad one extremely 
 painful in the committal ; that is, unlefs they are forced 
 to be virtuous, which is another contradiftion in terms. 
 Whence is it, that men, who pretend to idolize liberty 
 and virtue, and plead for liberty without bounds, fliould 
 be for throwing temptations, and with them all exercife 
 of liberty and virtue, out of the v\'orld ? 
 
 But, fourthly, It will foon appear from another confi- 
 deration, that virtue cannot be tolerated in the world, if 
 vice alfo is not in fome fenfe tolerated ; which can never 
 be, if all temptations are to be intirely excluded -, for then 
 the exercife of moral freedom muft be excluded, and this 
 will make the manifeftation of God's juftice impofllble. 
 A little reafoning will clear up this point. We muft either 
 fuppofe, God will make a fecret of his juftice, will make 
 men happy or miferable, without letting thofe very men, 
 or others, know why he does fo j or elfe we muft believe, 
 he will give them leave fo to a6t, as may convince them- 
 felves, and all who know them, that the Judge of all the 
 earth hath done right, and dealt juftly by them, in making] 
 them happy or miferable. God, as I have already hinted, 
 needs not to be informed by any trials we can undergo,j 
 what fort of men we are, or fhojld be, on fuch trials 5 but 
 he tries us himfelf, and fuft"ers us to be tempted by oui 
 enemy, that we may know ourfelves, and be either con-1 
 fcious of the virtue, for which we are made happy, or 
 ftlf-convi6led of the vice, for which we are condemned 
 and that ail who know us, may magnify the juftice of 
 God by feconding the fcntence, be it to life or death, 
 which he ftiall pronounce upon us. 
 
 As, without temptation, there can be no exercife of 
 virtue, fo neither can there be any manifeftation of it -, for 
 how can any one guefs what fort of a man he would- be, 
 
 if 
 
A Prefervative agahili Temptations. 115 
 
 if he were never tried ? And how can he be tried, if he 
 is never tempted ? And if, without a trial, he cannot fo 
 much as guefs, whether he would be conllant, or fickle ; 
 virtuous, or vicious ; how is it poflible for others to be, 
 in any degree, either witnefles or judges of his virtue? 
 Now, if neither he, nor they, can at all judge, whether 
 he is a good, or a bad man, furely it follows, that they 
 can by no means glorify the juftice of God, either for his 
 acquittal, or condemnation. If this were the univerfal 
 pra6lice of God towards angels and men, it could never 
 be known whether God is juftor not; and, confequently, 
 virtue could never be honoured, nor vice difgraced, in 
 the fight of either. How far this would tend to diminifh 
 the glory of God, and render ineffe<5lual the fanftions of 
 his law, let every rational creature judge. Thus it is 
 plain, that the manifeftation of God's jurtice, on vvhich 
 his honour, and the government of the univerfe, depend, 
 depends itfelf on the permilTion of temptation. St. Chry- 
 foftom^ in his oration concerning Providence, fpcaks very 
 beautifully, and very fenfibly, on this fubjedl. He puts 
 the ufual foolifh objedlion ; " If God governs the world 
 " with power, why did he not, immediately upon the 
 " tempter's deceiving our firft parents, reduce him to 
 " nothing ?'* And he anfwers •, " In not deliroying the 
 " devil, God hath adled agreeably to right reafon •, for he 
 " only perfuades, and leaves it in our power to difobey. 
 " Why would you,** fays he to the objeftor, " rob us 
 ** of the crown propofed to virtue ,? or deprive God of 
 *' the glory redounding from our viflory .? And if many, 
 " through the permilTion of tempcadon, fhall fall into 
 " fin, and be punifhed, is it not their own fault .? And 
 *' would it not be hard to take away from the good all 
 *' opportunity of exercifing their virtue, to fave thoft^, 
 " who do not fuffer fo much by the temptations of the 
 *' devil, as by their own idlenels and perverfenefs .? Let 
 *' us fuppofe,'* continues he, " that there is one adver- 
 *' fary, with whom two champions are to contend •, and 
 *' that of thefe two, one is a debauched, efi:'eminate, 
 " cowardly, wretch ; but the other, a man of true bra- 
 " very, and great prowefs. If now you take away the 
 
 I 2 '' adver- 
 
1 16 A Frefervathe aga'inji Temptations. 
 
 ** adverfary from them both, which of the two do you 
 " injure ? Is it the bafe coward, or the refolute cham- 
 " pion ? No doubt, it is the champion ; for, as to the 
 *' coward, you fave the wretch the fliame of a prefent de- 
 " feat ; which wiil, in the end, be no confiderable ad- 
 " vantage to him -, tor you only give him time to plunge 
 " himfelf, without the help of an adveriary, into infamy 
 " and flavery, by means of his cowardice ; which he will 
 *' certainly do, and confequently will be no great gainer 
 « by efcaping the prefent encounter. But then, as to 
 " the true champion, you take from him all the oppor- 
 *' tunity of fignalizing his virtue, and rub him of the glo- 
 " rious crown he might have won." 
 
 Laftly, If there is no temptation, there can neither be 
 any tranrgrcflion, nor any repentance, and, of courfe, no 
 demonftration of God's mercy. It would be unjuft in 
 God to make men fm, that he mig4it (hew his mercy in 
 forgiving. But he wilkth neither the death nor guilt of a 
 fmner ; he only fets good and evil before us ; and if we 
 are fo ftupidly perverfe as to choofe the evil, rather than 
 the good, we are not to blame him for what may follow. 
 Much lefs are we to think he a6ts unaccountably, if he 
 takes from hence a gracious occafion to call us to re- 
 pentance, and, upon our fmcerely repenting, manifefts 
 his infinite goodnefs, and compafnon, in forgiving all that 
 is paft. Shall not God be permitted to fhew he is mep 
 ciful, becaufe we are capable of abufing that freedom of 
 v;ill he hath beftowed on us, as the chief excellence of our 
 nature .? Or fliall we think ourfelves hardly dealt with, 
 if, after voluntarily obeying the temptations of the devil, 
 rather than the commandinents of God, his infinite good- 
 nefs, in order to reclaim and fave us, fliould require a total 
 reformation of our manners ? Befides, if, in pity to our 
 natural weakneis and corruption, he helps us by his grace 
 to make this reformation, have we not infinite reafon to 
 blcfs and magnify his mercy, that does every thing, con- 
 fiflent with our liberty, to fnatch us from that deftrucftion, 
 which our own blindnefs and wickednefs are labouring to 
 bring upon us ^. If a man fhould drop his purle, as by ac- 
 cident, in the way of his lervanr, in order to try his ho- 
 
 nefty, 
 
A Prefervathe againfl Temptations. 117 
 
 nefty, fliould we charge him with injuftice for fo doing ? 
 And if, having found the fervant enfnared by his own 
 difhonefty in this experiment, his mafler fliould labour to 
 reclaim him -, and, on finding figns of amenchnent, 
 fliould forgive him ; fhould we fay he was acccfiary to 
 the fin of his fervant ? Or rather fhould we not applaud 
 him, as a moft indulg?nt and compaffionate mafter ? But 
 if, by thefe means, the fervant fliould be aftually re- 
 clainisd,wiil it not be happy for him, that he wjs tempted ? 
 Was he not difhoned before he found the purfe ? If he 
 was, furely his mafter, who could have wiflied to find him 
 faithful, and by no means tried him in order to make 
 him otherwife, did not make him a wiiit worfe than he 
 found him. Perhaps, if this temptation ha'd not been 
 thrown in his way, his villainy had not been difcovered, 
 and confequently not reformed. If this reafoning is fuf- 
 ficient to juftify fuch a matter, why fliall it not be ad- 
 mitted as a full juftification, in the like cafe, of Pro- 
 vidence ? 
 
 It is a grofs abfurdity to fuppofe, God could make any 
 being both morally free, and infallible, becaufe nothing 
 can be abfolutely infallible, that is not abfolutely perfect ; 
 and nothing can be abfolutely perfe(ft, but God himfelf. 
 And to what end fhould any creature be made morally 
 free, if his virtue were never to be tried ? If the devil 
 were deftroyed, and all God's moral creatures raifed to 
 the utmofl perfecflion of their refpedive natures, this 
 would not prevent the pofTibility of fin ; for there was a 
 time when this was actually the cafe; and yet fin, by means 
 of freedom, and of temptations in Paradile, nay, even in 
 heaven, found footing in man, though pure and good, 
 and holding a life of peace and joy, on the condition 
 of his obedience ; and even in the sngels, t "iou2;h created 
 finlefs and holy, and pofTcflcd, as fuch, of unutterable 
 glory and happinefs. 
 
 That thus it is with ail the rational and fi- e part of the 
 creation, we have fufficient reafon for believing from what 
 we know and feel of ourfelves •, and, without any further 
 arguing, we mufl conclude, if we have not loft the uf^ of 
 our reafon^ that it is beft fo, becaufe it is fo, let v/hat 
 
 I 3 will 
 
1 1 8 A Preferimtive againji Temptations. 
 
 will come of the wicked. But vain and wretched man 
 muft be cavilling, and finding fault, even with the work 
 of God. He afks, Why hath God left imperfedlion, 
 and a poffibility of fm, in the moral world ^ What a 
 pity it is, that this man of wifdom had not the making 
 , of himfclf, and the world he is to live in ! As to the 
 world, he would probably have given it one even uniform 
 furface; or, if he had thought mountains nccefiary, he 
 would have cut them all out into mathematical figures ; 
 he would have taught the rivers to run every-where iq 
 right lines ; he would have made the winds as ftationary 
 as the tides, and turned the very thunders into folemn 
 ■ rnufic. Having thus prepared his world, he would have 
 peopled it with beings, rational perhaps, but not morally 
 free; or free, without a poffibility of finning ; or reward- 
 able, but not punifhable •, or forced to be virtuous, forced 
 to choofe good, rather than evil -, that is, in a word, he 
 would have peopled it with a living fyftem of contra- 
 didlions. 
 
 How infinitely more convenient, more beautiful, and 
 more magnificent, is the natural world, as God hath made 
 it, than it would have been, had every the fmalleft part 
 been mathematically fhaped, and fo perfectly polifhed off, 
 that the eye of a mite could have difcovered no irregulari- 
 ty in it I And how infinitely more glorious is the world 
 of created fpirits, for being -rational and free, and, by 
 ihofe means, admitting a trial, than it could have been, 
 had no one had it in his power to be good and virtuous, 
 which muft have been the cafe, had no one had it in his 
 power to be wicked and vicious I 
 
 It may be objedled here, that, if this reafoning is right, 
 we fhall not be incapable of fin even in heaven, nor, 
 confcquently, of falling from thence into the place of pu- 
 pifhment, though we are promifed eternal happinefs in the 
 life to come. 
 
 On what authority, either of Reafon or Scripture, the 
 vulgar notion of our future infallibility hath been founded, 
 I know not. But certainly, if we confult cither the one 
 or the other, we fiiall conclude, that, even in heaven, we 
 /hall ftill be but creatures, that is, morally free and fal-; 
 
 lible 
 
A Prefervative agahift Tetnptaiions. I 9 
 
 iible beings, for whom it may be pofllble to fall. The 
 Scriptures tell us, we Jhall be like the angels in heaven^ 
 who, that they were morally free, and capable of fin, is 
 alfo plain from Scripture, becaufe we are there afilired, 
 that many of them kept not their firft eftate, but did fall 
 into fin, for which they are referved, in chains of darknefs, 
 for the judgment of the lajl day. Now, that after this 
 judgment, either the good angels, or the fouls of juft 
 men made perfeft, will be transformed into abfolutely in- 
 fallible beings, we are no-where told in Scripture. Indeed 
 the joys of heaven, Vy^hich we may for ever polfefs, if we 
 pleafe, and the torments of hell, which we then fhall have 
 efcaped, will give us all the fecurity free and moral 
 creatures are capable of, that we fhall never fall. We 
 fhall be as wife, as pure, as holy, as creatures can be ; 
 and herein will confift our fecurity, that creatures fo wife, 
 pure, and holy, will never choofe to exchange a condition 
 of fo much glory and happinefs for one of endlefs difgrace 
 and mifery. 
 
 But why fhould I have taken fuch a compafs to juflify 
 Providence in regard to temptations ? Are not all thofe 
 things, wherewith we are tempted, made good in them- 
 felves, often neceflary to us, by their Creator ? Were 
 they never ufed otherwife, than as he, who made them, 
 intended, inftead of tempting us to (in, they would only 
 ferve as fo many incendves to gratitude, and all the other 
 virtues. What then is it that changes them into fnares, 
 and provocatives to vice ? If the caviller, with whom we 
 are difputing, will look impartially into hirnfelf, he will 
 there find thofe corrupt afi^edtions, thofe ill-governed paf- 
 fions, that pervert the whole creation, and turn the very 
 works of God, gracious as he was in making them, and ufe~ 
 ful as they are both in his intention, and their own nature, 
 into allurements and temptations. Nay, he will find, 
 that their moil amiable or excellent qualities are the very 
 things which tempt him, and induce him foolifhly to wifh 
 he, or they, had been made otherwife than they are. For 
 inftance ; to fay nothing of wine, of mufic, or of beauty ; 
 the earth itfelf muft either not have been made, or made 
 unfruitful , or ill-difpofcd men muft have been tempted, 
 
 I 4 Ma, 1 kind 
 
120 A Prefervattve agalnji Temptations, 
 
 Mankind never contend for eftates, or kingdoms, but on 
 account of what they produce. No litigious fuits, no 
 unjuft or opprelTive wars, had ever been commenced for 
 any portion of the world, had the whole been covered with 
 naked rocks, or barren fands. Let no man therefore fay.^ 
 when he is tempted^ I am tempted of God ; for God cannot 
 be tempted with evil^ neiilher tempteth he any man. But 
 every man is tempted, zvhen he is drawn away of his own 
 lujt^ and enticed. 
 
 To diJmifs this head, temptations to fin there are, and 
 muft be, as long as there are moral beings in the world, 
 Man, in particular, during his ftate of trial, muft expeft 
 to find the chief force of thele temptations arifing from 
 within, out of the miferable corruption of his nature ; and 
 cannot hope for happinefs, till this corruption is purged 
 out, even by a fierce encounter with thefe trials, which 
 if he cannot ftand, he muft come out but the more cor- 
 rupt and vicious. Silver and gold are feldom or never 
 found in the earth without drols, nor man without a na- 
 tural inclination to fin ; but the fining-pot for fiher^ 
 and the furnace for gold, and God''s trials for the heart 
 of man. 
 
 Since then there is no declining the fiery trial, it is our 
 bufinefs carefully to examine the nature of our temptations, 
 and to look out for the beft prefervatives againll their 
 poifon, that we may fo think and ad, as to efcape the 
 fnares of our enemy, and approve ourfelves the taithful 
 fervants of God. 
 
 We can never rightly underftand the nature of our 
 temptations, till we know ourlelves •, for it is from the 
 corruption of our own hearts and afi^eftions, that tempta- 
 tions draw their force. , Were we not our own feducers 
 and tempters, and v/ere it not for the fieflily enemy 
 within, the devil and the world could have no power over 
 lis. The fame may be faid of all the other affedlions and 
 f affions, that is faid in the book of IVijdom concerning 
 fear, that each of them is a betraying of thefuccours which 
 reafon cffereth. It is true, a well intormed confcience pro- 
 tefts againft fin -, but our infadable appetites, our unclean 
 affedions, our violent paffions, bring a great majority gf 
 
 votes 
 
A Prefervathe agalnji Temptations. 121 
 
 votes in favour of it. Hence it is, that fmall temptations 
 can lead us into a courfe of wicked nefs ; whereas it re- 
 quires all the force of reafon, meditation, faith, and grace, 
 to win us to a life of piety and virtue. If we examine, 
 why we, who are fo light and moveable to vice, are fo 
 heavy and hard to be ftirred towards virtue, we fiiall find 
 it owing to this corrupt and finful difpofition of our na- 
 ture. The enemy feizes us by our affections and kifts, 
 and pulls downward -, whereas God, laying hold of our 
 confciences, draws upv/ard. The enemy pulls with, and 
 God againft, the bent of all our natural corruptions ; and 
 it is happy for us, that, as his hand is almighty, he can pull 
 with fufficient ftrength. 
 
 We fhouid be well aware of this, and alfo carefully 
 Confider by what artful fteps the enemy makes his ap- 
 proaches to the will, when it is guarded by a watchful 
 confcience. He conceals both himfcif, and the fin he 
 would tempt us to -, and, mafking himfeli fometimes in the 
 bufinefs, the riches, the pomps, of the world, he endea- 
 vours to fteal in by the poftern of pride and avarice. At 
 other times concealing himfelf in poverty, in trouble and 
 oppreflion, he does all he can to frighten us from our poflr. 
 He attacks our loofe defires with the Imiies of profperity 
 and pleafure, and our cowardly fears with the frowns of 
 adverfity and afflidions ; and, now infinuating, now 
 forcing, his way in at our fenfes, he tries to lodge and 
 entrench himfelf in our corrupt affeftions, from whence, 
 artfully undermining our reafon, and violendy battering 
 our wills, he prefixes ftill clofer and clofer on our fouls. 
 
 His moft fuccefsful engine is our love of pleafure. We 
 cannot live without fome recreations and amufements. 
 In thefe, we think, we may fafely indulge, as long as we 
 do not exceed the bounds of moderation. But, unhappily, 
 we are not nice enough in difi:inguifhing the line that di- 
 vides excefs from temperance. Innocent pleafures, as 
 ;hey are called, prepare the way for fuch as are criminal. 
 It is hard for the heart to (lop, once it is afloat on a 
 tide of pleafure. He that is fond of innocent enjoyments 
 hath a loofe heart, and is a man of pleafure -, and to be a 
 man of pleafure is to be expofed to the danger of excefs 
 
 in 
 
122 A Prcfcrvative againji Temptations. 
 
 in pleafure. That man, who knows not how to deny 
 himfelf every innocent delight he can enjoy, will not al- 
 ways deny himfelf thofe that are finful. 
 
 Our enemy knows this too well ; and therefore, that 
 he may not alarm or Oiock our confciences, he does not 
 all at once tempt us to the blackeft adls of fin, fuch as 
 adultery or murder. No ; to prepare us for adultery, he 
 firft allures us to intemperance in eating and drinking, 
 efpecially the latter, which we do not regard as a great 
 fin. Then he melts down our virtue with foft and un- 
 clean inclinations, in which we think there is no great 
 harm. After this, it is no difficult matter to give our 
 luftful difpofitions a little praftice in wanton dalliances, 
 which, proceeding from fmaller to greater liberties, fit us 
 for the higheft a6ts of the kind. If he would train us to 
 murder, he contrives to furnifh our pride with fufficient 
 provocatives; and, as the proud is always proportionably 
 refenrful, the enemy eafily finds thole, who will ruffle 
 him into anger •, and anger, often ftirred, at length burns 
 up into that Spirit of revenge and malice, which thirds for 
 blood. Bcfides, he frequently leads his unhappy flave 
 from lefs grievous vices of one kind, to more fhocking 
 crimes of another, by propofing the latter as a means to 
 fcreen, or come at, the former. Thus he that cannot 
 cater for his expences in women, or ftrong liquors, by 
 fraud, muft do it by robbery, and the punilhment of rob- 
 bery muft be prevented by murder. 
 
 The cafe of David will admirably illuftrate and enforce 
 what I have been faying. He had taken a loofe luxurious 
 nap, after eating and drinking, in all probability, to the 
 full fatisfadion of his appetite ; at leaft, we will take it for 
 granted, he had thus pampered his U!iclean aiteclions, be- 
 caufe the fuppofition is agreeable to the ftory, and natural. 
 In this unhappy difpofition he fees the beautiful wite of 
 Uriah bathing. Perhaps his ftanding, or falling, on this 
 occafion, might have depended on his eating, or not eating, 
 beyond a certain quantity, and on his drinking, or not 
 drinking, beyond a certain glafs. Here it was eafy for 
 him to (top, had he been aware of the confequence. But, 
 having palted the bounds of temperance, and ftupefied his 
 
 confcience 
 
A Trefervat'ive againft Temptations, 123 
 
 confcience with fleep, his virtue gave way to a loofe de- 
 fire, which, however, had he even then refifted, might 
 have been fubdued. But now, having an enemy without, 
 as well as one within, to contend with, his pafiion feizes 
 his will, and the temptation muft be brought nearer to 
 him •, after this his fall into the horrible fin of adultery 
 became inevitable. And now, mark the infernal progrefs 
 of fin ! having wronged the bed of his friend, that friend 
 mufl: die to cloak the fiiameful injury that had been done 
 him. 
 
 We are fenfible no temptation, be it never fo violent, 
 can work otherwife than by thought; and that our thoughts 
 of all kinds are at firfl: more eafily banifhed, or changed 
 for other thoughts, than afterwards, when they have en- 
 gaged the imagination, and put the fpirits into a violent 
 ferment. This confideration fliould be prefent with us 
 when finful thoughts begin to afiaulc us. We fhould then 
 keenly confider, that the devil is fecretly prefent in the 
 temptation ; that guilt, fhame, and deftrudion, are be- 
 hind it j and that the all-feeing eye of God is that mo- 
 ment watching the motions of our hearts. Now is the 
 time to refift with all our might, or to fly from the fnare 
 with our utmoft fpeed. If we dwell a moment longer on 
 the finful thought, it will be then more difficult to get 
 clear of it -, and fo in proportion, the longer we indulge 
 it. If we give way, it will, in a very litde time, draw to 
 itfelf the force of fome violent paflion, fome vehement af- 
 fedion, or fome inveterate habit. With this afllflance, 
 it will eafily feize the will; and, being once mafter of the 
 will, we are then aflually guilty of the fin, though the 
 outward opportunity of reducing it to pradice fhould be 
 wandng. Iftdore gives us an ingenious flate of this pro- 
 grefs. " A finful thought," fays he, " begets pleafure, 
 " pleafure confent, confent adlion, adion habit, habit ne- 
 *' ceflity, and neceffity death ;" and fo man, entangled 
 in thefe links, is held, as it were, with a chain of vices. 
 It was, probably, on account of this progrefs, from lefs to 
 more, in vices, that our firft parents were forbidden, not 
 only to eat, but even to touch, the fruit of the tree in the 
 
 midji 
 
124 ^ Prefervathe againft Temptauons. 
 
 midji of the garden, becaule touching might increafe the 
 temptation to eating. 
 
 Herein lies the great art of our enemy, and our moft 
 dangerous weaknefs, that we are not much alarmed at the 
 committal of fmall fins ; and that he eafily finds means fo 
 to manage a final! fin, as to make it a Inare, and a tempta- 
 tion to a greater. Could a very bad man fee the progrefs 
 from intemperance to adultery and murder, luch a pro- 
 Ipecft might let bounds to his appetite. But, while this 
 progrefs lies hid from the beft of m.en, he cannoc tell how 
 far his table may be a fnare to him. He cannot fee the 
 great harm of eating and drinking a little too much, that 
 is, of eating and drinking a little for pleafure, when he 
 hath already fat long enough for nature and nectfiity, be- 
 caufe he cannot fee the guilt and mifery, to which his ex- 
 cefs may lead him. 
 
 Now, in order to provide prefervatives againft the poi- 
 fon of temptation, we ought carefully to confidcr the na- 
 ture of its progrefs, as already fet forth, that we may 
 know how and when to begin our defence. We fee, we 
 feel by our own experience, that every appedre, fuch as 
 hunger, thirit, concupifcence •, and every pafiion, fuch as 
 pride, anger, jealoufy *, is at firft a fmall fpark, that may 
 be quenched with eafe j but we perceive, at the fame 
 time, that it is a fpark among very combufliible materials. 
 However, ready as they are to take fire, they are not mere 
 gunpowder, at leaft not in the generality oi men. They 
 give us time, if we be on our guard, to extinguifh the 
 kindling mifchicf, before it riles to a raging fire. If it 
 beafked how we fhall do this, St. Paul wil! tell us: Take, 
 fays he, the foield of faith, wherewith ye fhall be able to 
 quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. The hope of 
 God's eveilafting favour, and the dread of his eternal 
 vengeance, which v/e build on faith, will quickly cool 
 the heat of our appetites and pafilons, provided we 
 early enough turn our thoughts, from the yet feeble 
 temptation, to a deep and keen reflexion on heaven and 
 hell. 
 
 But, that the fire of fin may have as little fewel to feed 
 it as pofiible, we muff take care to be temperate in all 
 
 things-^ 
 
A Preferiiafive again ft Temptations. 12^ 
 
 things •, and, if temperance prove infufficient, we muft 
 faft, in order to mortify the deeds of the body, and ufe our 
 appetites to denial, by often refufing them even the inno- 
 cent gratifications they call for. 
 p ; And, that a temptation may never take us unprepared, 
 we muft be always on the watch : For we. know not the 
 hour this thief may come. The enemy, when he finds us 
 ready, armed, and refolute, flies from us, and waits for a 
 more unguarded minute. Let him therefore that thinketb 
 he fiandetb^ take heed left he fall ; and let him attentively 
 liften to what our Saviour fays to his difciples concerning 
 vigilance •, Watch, and fray, left ye enter into temptation ; 
 and what I fay unto you, 1 fay unto all. Watch. 
 
 As our own ftrength is by no means fufficicnt to ftand 
 againft both the treachery within, and the attack from 
 without, we fee our Saviour commands us alfo to pray^ 
 that he, who neither flumhereth nor fleepeth, may keep 
 guard over us, and lend us his almighty grace to fupport 
 us. Our e^es frjould be always on the Lord, that he may 
 pluck our feet out of the net. 
 
 Now, there is nothing fo capable of keeping us on the 
 watch, as lively and almoft continual mcdiiations on 
 our danger ; on the crown we are to receive, in cafe we 
 conquer •, and on the dilgrace we* are to fuffer, if we are 
 defeated. Befides, it is from the depth and ftrength of 
 thefe meditations, that our prayers are to derive the greater 
 part of their power. 
 
 Among our other meditations, none can be more ufc- 
 ful than continual and apprehenfive relledtions on our own 
 weaknefs, efpecially on tiie particular fm, whatever it is, 
 that doth more eafily befet us. Our enemy, like a ficilfui 
 general, looks out ftiarply for the weakcft places to afiault 
 us j and therefore, in thefe our greatcft vigilance ought 
 to ftand fentinel, and our firmeft refolution to exert it- 
 felf. When the pleafure of fin begins to clofe with us at 
 thefe opener inlets to temptation, we muft have a care of 
 fooliHily miftaking its wrefliing for embracing; for its 
 arms are the arms of Joab, who only embraces, that he 
 may ftab ; its lips are the lips of Judas, who only hails 
 and kiilcs, that he may betray. W^ fliou'd confider, if 
 
 our 
 
126 A Prefervative againfl Temptations. 
 
 OLir enemy can have hopes of prevailing over the very 
 beft of men, as he did over the royal prophet, a man 
 after God's own heart ; nay, if he could have the boldnefs 
 to attempt the refolution of Ciirift himfelf j how can we^ 
 with all our miferable weakneffes about us, for a moment 
 intermit the exercife of our fpiritual weapons ? However, 
 a due confideration of our frailty will contribute as much 
 as any thing we can do, to arm us againft temptations, 
 fo that our firength jlmll he made 'perfect even in weak- 
 nefs. 
 
 Nay, as a foolifh man alTifts the enemy to dcftroy him, 
 fo we, if we are truly wife, may draw very powerful fuc- 
 cours from our fpiritual adverfaries, to fupport us againft 
 their attacks. Does not the frailty of our Befh, fo fubje<5t, 
 when indulged, to the fhock of tormenting paflions, and 
 to the rage of painful and mortal diftempers, furnilh us 
 with a thoufand arguments for temperance, that mother 
 of the other virtues ? Do not our worldly affairs and in- 
 terells call on us for fobriety and prudence, and give us 
 a continual opportunity of exercifing both ? And do not 
 the contempt and mifery, into which the devil is fallen, 
 preach up piety and virtue, to a thinking mind, with 
 more perfuafive power, than all his art can beftow on 
 his temptations ? What is it he aims at ? Is it not to make 
 us like himfelf, fo many hideous and defpicable fpeftacles 
 of mifery ? 
 
 But if the temptations of our enemy have already taken 
 poiTeffion of our hearts, or begin to rufh on us with more 
 than ufual violence, it is then our bufinefs to fummon all 
 our ftrength -, to call to God, with all the ardour of our 
 fouls, for help ; and, as fall as poffible, to try to ftifle the 
 fmkil thought before it grows to a defign ; or to raife in 
 our hearts a fettled horror at the black defign, if it is al- 
 ready formed. It is found by experience, that prayer, of 
 all things, gives the greateft affiflance on thefe occafions. 
 We cannot long continue both in prayer, and under 
 temptation. Devotion and fm are too oppofite to fubfift 
 for any time in the fame mind. If it is habitually difpofed 
 to the former, and perfeveres in it, the inclination to the 
 latter muft give way. When God is thus introduced, his 
 
 awful 
 
A Frefervative againji Temptations, 127 
 
 awful prcfencc will foon force the enemy to retire. God 
 is always of a party with the carneft fuppliant in diftrefs, 
 and we may be fure the Almighty will not be fubdued. 
 Befides, as ofcen as we are tempted to fin, we fhould 
 remember, that we are Chriftians ; that, by a folema 
 vow, we have renounced the devil and all his works, the 
 pomps and vanities ot this wicked world, and all the 
 finful lurts of the flefli •, and that, if we fuffer the tempta- 
 tion to get the better of us, we muft, for fo much, re- 
 nounce our covenant with God, violate our folemn vow, 
 and enter into league with the devil. We fhould alfo re- 
 member, that we are frail and mortal men •, and, looking 
 back at the thoughts we had in our former afflidiions, or 
 dangerous ficknelfes, as well as forward at thofe we may 
 yet be forced to entertain, when the next terrible cor- 
 redtion fliall load us with pain, or dejeftion of fpirits, or 
 threaten us with death, fhould, in the prt-fent trial, take 
 care not to treafure up more wrath, againlt that day of 
 wrath. 
 
 If unclean imaginations aflfault us, we fhould refle«ft, 
 and tremble as we refleft, on the fall of David, and the 
 deflrudlion of Sodo?n and Gcmorrah by fire. If pride and 
 refentment have bloated and inflamed our hearts, we 
 fhould, with confufion, relied: on our vile offences, and 
 fhameful difpofitions. What room for vanity towards 
 men, when there is ib much reafon for humility, perhaps 
 for fear and dejedtion, in the fight of God ! If avarice or 
 ambition have enflaved our affeclions to the riches or 
 pomps of the world, we fhould confider the toil or vil- 
 lainy, without which neither can be obtained ♦, and the 
 diftradion, without v/hich ncicher can be kept. If un- 
 lawful pleafures entice us, we fhould try to damp the 
 dcfires they raife in us, by fuppofing ourfelves in the 
 agonies of death, tortured with pain, and terrified with 
 guilt, unable to live, and unwilling to die. When the 
 allurements of fm have feized our corrupt affc<^ions, we 
 fhould confider, that, gaily as they may fmile, the wiles of 
 Saian, and the bitternefs of death and heli, are concealed 
 under their fweets. When a finful thought, of any kind, 
 gains ground on us, we fliould awfully confider, that 
 
 God, 
 
128 A Preftrvative ageiinjl Temptations, 
 
 God, who is prefent with us, fees it with an angry eytf^ 
 notes it feverely in his book, and will call us into judg- 
 ment for it. And here we fhould paint to our imagin- 
 ations, in the moft heightening colours, the terrors of the 
 lad day, when we fhall ftand iffue, in the prefenceof God, 
 of angels, and of men, for all the thoughts, words, and 
 aftions, of our whole lives, with all the glories of heaven, 
 and all the horrors of hell, full in view. 
 
 If we be not loft to faith and reflexion, this alone will 
 be fufFicient to beat down our moft rampant and violent 
 inclination to fin. And, if we are not as much loft to all 
 fenfe of gratitude i.nd goodnefs, the confideration of God's 
 infinite compaffion towards us, and of our Saviour's 
 wounds, which bleed afrefh at our fins, will fill us with 
 indignation at ourfelves, for liftening a fingle moment to 
 the offers of his enemy. 
 
 If we have fuch thoughts as thefe ready, and are 
 watchful enough to urge them home on our hearts, in the 
 heat of our encounter with any temptation, they will foon 
 turn the vi6lory to our fide. Then Ihall our fpirits 
 triumph with a joy infinitely more fweet, and more 
 tranfporting, that all the delights of a finful life, were 
 they crouded into one moment. Then fhall we lift our 
 heads among the Chriftian heroes, and look down on the 
 Alexanders and defars, who Ihamefully fubmitted tothofe 
 enemies we have fubdued. Then (hall confcience ap- 
 plaud, and God approve, and the angels above fhall fing 
 Hallelujah ! Thanks be to God, who giveth his fervants 
 victory ! Thine, Lord, is the greatnefs, and the power ^ 
 and the glory, and the vi^ory, a?id the majejiy. In thine 
 hand it is to make great, and to give Jtrengih unto all. 
 Blejfed is the man that endureth temptation -, f&r, when be 
 is tried, he Jhall receive the crown of life, which the Lord 
 hath promifed to them that love him. Then fhall the 
 gracious Captain of our falvation, who fought fo hard a 
 battle for us, confider us as having fought and conquered 
 for his honour. Now the confcioufnefs of this, in a 
 grateful heart, is rapture and heaven. 
 
 O thou 
 
A Prefervathe agalnfl Temptations. 129 
 
 O thou Almighty Being, let it pleafe thy infinite good- 
 nefs to raife in our low and ftupid hearts, by the quicken- 
 ing motions of thy Holy Spirit, an invincible ardour to 
 purfue fuch triumphs, to thy eternal glory, through 
 Chrift Jefus our Redeemer, to whom, in the unity of the 
 ever-blefled Trinity, be all might, majefty, dignity, and 
 dominion, now, and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 Vol. II. K D I S- 
 
C '3^ ] 
 
 DISCOURSE VIII. 
 
 Habit the Source of Happinefs or Mifcry. 
 
 J 
 
 EREM. XIll. 23. 
 
 Can the Ethiopian change his Jkin^ or the leopard 
 his fpots ? Then may ye aljo do go')dy %vho are ac- 
 cuji Dined to do evil, 
 
 BY thus comparing an habit of fm with the black com- 
 plexion of an Ethiopian^ and the fpots on the fl<in 
 of a leopard, which are natural, and, without a miracle, 
 unalterable ; and by maintaining, that either may as eafily 
 change the property here mentioned, as he can betake 
 himfelf to a good life, who hath been accuftomed to a 
 wicked one ; the Prophet feems to intimate the impof- 
 fibility of breaking a fmful habit. Although it is true, 
 that fuch figures, as this in my text, are never ufed, but 
 when the fpeaker hath a mind to aggravate and ftretch 
 the force of what he fays ; and that they often exprefs an 
 extreme, when fomewhat approaching near to that ex- 
 treme is all that is intended ; yet that is not the cafe 
 here ; the comparifon is ftri6l and juft. The Ethiopian 
 himfelf cannot change his Jkin -, the leopard cannot change 
 bis fpots ; neither is it pojfble for him to do goody who is 
 accuftomed to do evil. But it does not follow, that the 
 
 cafe 
 
Habit the Source of Happinefs or Mifery. 131 
 
 cafe of an habitual finner is therefore defperate ; for, al- 
 though by his own ftrength alone, he cannot polTibly re- 
 form himfelf, yet, with the alTiftance of his Maker, to 
 whom all things are pqffible^ and who can purge the (kin 
 both of the Ethiopian and the leopard, habitually hardened 
 as he is, he may be reclaimed. 
 
 As, however, a man may contribute to that work, 
 which he cannot perfed: ; as we cannot hope for God*s 
 afllftance, without ufing our own endeavours ; and as 
 habit, whether good or evil, is a fubjeft of infinite im- 
 portance to us ; 1 hope we fhall not mif fpend the time in 
 inquiring, what it is j to what degree of power it carries 
 its influence over our thoughts and adtions ; and how we 
 may ftrengthen or fubdue it, according as it tends to 
 promote or hinder our happinefs. 
 
 Habit then is that quality or difpofition of the mind, 
 which, being acquired by repeated thoughts and a£ls of 
 any kind, renders the foul more apt and ready to return 
 again to the fame thoughts and afts. Here it is to be ob- 
 ferved, firft. That the quality or difpofition mentioned is 
 either always accompanied with, or rather indeed confifts 
 in, a kind of pleafure, which the mind perceives in re- 
 peating the thoughts or aflions formerly repeated ; and, 
 fecondly. That this pleafure, fo far as it arifes from repe- 
 tition, always increafes in proportion to the frequency of 
 the repetition. 
 
 Again, It is to be obferved, that if any particular train 
 of thinking, or courfe of a6ling, is of itfelf agreeable to 
 our natural inclinations, we aie, on that account, the 
 more readily habituated to it, both becaufe nature itfelf 
 introduces, and afterwards nourifhes, all habits thus 
 graffed on itfelf. 
 
 And, laftly. It is worth remarking, that (fuch Is the 
 effeft of repetition) an habit of liking that which is natu- 
 rally difagreeable, is often acquired, and fometimes car- 
 ried to fuch an height, as to make that in fome fort ne- 
 ceiTary, which was at firft regarded as odious or perni- 
 cious. In this inftance, although the objed remains ftili 
 the fame, the very nature of the mind is changed, to all 
 intents and purpofes, as effedually, as if its original aver- 
 
 K 2 Tion 
 
132 Habit the Source of Happlnefs or Mifery. 
 
 fion had been totally deftroyed, and an inclination, in- 
 tirely new and oppofitc, introduced inflead of it. 
 
 Qui ftill it is to be rerriembred, that the pleafure arifing 
 from repetition, whether added to the natural inclination, 
 as in the former cafe, or forced on the mind againft na- 
 ture, as in the latter, becomes as real a motive to think- 
 ing, and through that to ading, in this or that particular 
 manner, as any original fcnfation, affe6lion, or paiLon, 
 whatever. This appears by the glutton, who hath a real 
 pleafure in eating, although he is not hungry -, and by the 
 chewer of tobacco, who is now extremely delighted with 
 that weed, which was at firft as naufeous to him, as to 
 other men. 
 
 Now, at the fame time that we may thus have new 
 motives, both to thought and adtion, implanted in our 
 minds, it is worth our while ferioufly to confider, that 
 few, if any, of thefe are indifferent as to virtue or vice, 
 and, confequently, as to the happinefs or mifery of the 
 mind wherein they are found. Either they are moral or 
 immoral in themfelves, or produce effects that are. So 
 great a change wrought in our fouls, in the very fprings 
 of thought and adion, mufl. be a matter of infinite mo* 
 ment to us. We fhall be ftill more fenfibly convinced of 
 this, the more attentively we reflecft on the force and 
 aftivity of thefe habits, which, in certain inftances, are 
 frequently found too ftrong for every thing elfe within 
 us. 
 
 Were there nothing elfe to prove the power of habit, 
 but that it frequently makes that, which is odious, ex- 
 tremely pleafing, and fometimes almoft neceffary, this 
 alone would be fufficient to do it. But, if it is able to do 
 fo much againft nature, to what lengths may it not carry 
 its influence over our minds, when it feconds, or works 
 with, nature ! Experience fiiews us, that any of our na- 
 tural affeclions, or paflions, ftrengthened by habitual in- 
 dulgence, becomes infatiable and ungovernable. The 
 natural end of eating is, to recruit the waftes of our bo- 
 dies, and refit them for the offices of life ; and, that we 
 may be in no danger of negledling the neceffary recourfe 
 to food, the appetite of hunger is given us. But, as 
 
 foon 
 
Habit the Source of Hafpinefs or Mifery. 133 
 
 foon as this appetite is changed in any man, by a too 
 luxurious indulgence, into a rehfli for the high taftes of 
 certain delicacies, that man no longer eats to fatisfy his 
 natural appetite, nor to fupport the health and vigour of 
 his body, but to gratify his habit, although perhaps he 
 knows licknefs and pain are fure to follow. The natural 
 end of drinking is, to quench the third, or at moft to re- 
 frefh the fpirits, in order to the due performance of di- 
 geftion, and the prefervation of health. But he, who, 
 pleafed either with the delicious flavour of his liquor, or 
 with the tranfports of mirth it gives him, hath, for a long 
 time, accuftomed himfelf to repeated exceflfes in drinking, 
 now adually wants, what at firft he could by no means 
 bear, and drinks on, though he knows it will deftroy his 
 health, his fpirits, his fenfes, and his life. The rational 
 ufe of money is, to procure us the necefTaries and comforts 
 of life. For this reafon it is defired •, but, by fome men, 
 fo long, fo often, and at length fo ardently, defired, that 
 it becomes itfelf the objed of defire, infomuch that the 
 love of it is the very thing that ftarves the covetous, 
 whofe bags or chefts are filled with it. I might exem- 
 plify the prefent obfervation by other inftances, parti- ' 
 cularly by one, which modefty forbids me to particularize, 
 wherein nature prompts to the produ6lion of a new gene- 
 ration, and habit, though grafted on nature, tends to the 
 prevention of that, and the extindion of the prefent, 
 through fcenes of filth, of fhame, of mifery, and of pain, 
 too fhocking to be difplayed. 
 
 On the other hand, there are habits of an oppofite na- 
 ture to thefe, which, being founded on the purer affc- 
 dlions of the mind, teach a man to place his delight and 
 happinefs in denying himfelf, that he may give to others •, 
 in mortifying his fcnfual appetites, and living the life of 
 a feparate fpirit ; in thinking with contempt of that 
 wealth, that grandeur, and thofe pleafjres, which the reft 
 of mankind purfue with fuch infinite eagernefs, while he 
 looks upward, and habitually pants after things, which 
 his eyes have not feen, which his ears have not heard, and 
 which even his heart cannot conceive. Nature makes us 
 men i the principles of true religion make us wifh and 
 
 K 3 endeavour 
 
4 34 'H'^hit the Source of Happhiefs or Mifery. 
 
 endeavour to be good men ; but it is habit alone, that 
 can wed the heart to thofe principles 5 that can fubdue its 
 inordinate emotions to their dictates ; that can perfefl the 
 good Chriftian, who is prepared to live in the midft of 
 temptations, or die in flames, for his God. The mind 
 of man is neither capable of finking to great depths of 
 wickednefs, till long and frequent repetitions have 
 loaded it with habits of fin ; nor of rifing to the exalted 
 heights of virtue, till ufe or pradice have winged it with 
 a contempt for temporal things, on the one fide, and with 
 the love of God, on the other. Habit, in a word, finds 
 us men, and makes us either angels or devils. Let our 
 previous principles of thinking, or motives of afting, be 
 what they will, our habits, once they are confirmed, by 
 extinguifhing one affeftion, by inflaming another, and 
 by prefcribing our leading pleafures, govern us almofl: 
 without controul. Can he, who, for forty years, hath 
 admired and practifed, in all his dealings, the ftricleft ho- 
 nefty, afterwards turn a cheat or (harper ^ Can he, who, 
 during a like fpace of time, hath tranfadled all his afi^airs, 
 and purfued all his ends, by fraud and cunning, become 
 afterwards a Nathanael without guile in his thoughts, or 
 artifice in his actions ^. Although it is true, that a man 
 may by nature be inclined to this virtue, or that vice, 
 yet he can never become remarkable for an extraordinary 
 3(51 of either, till habit hath hardened him in the one, or 
 confecrated him to the other. 
 
 There is an art in thinking, and a fkill in governing 
 pafiions by principles, which, although it depends on 
 rules invariably the fame in their tendency, is neverthelefs 
 brought to difi^erent degrees of perfe6lion, according to 
 the diff^erent degrees of practice, wherewith it is encou- 
 raged in different men, in the lame manner as a bodily 
 craft is more or lefs perfedly acquired by a longer or 
 fhorter appreniicefhip. The mind attains to a readinefs 
 and agility in purfuing any particular track of thought, 
 by ufe, jufl: as the hand of a tradefman becomes expert 
 and ready at his bufineis by conftant application. 
 
 But the mind carries its habits to a greater pitch of 
 power and adivity, than the body ; infomuch that it is 
 
 often 
 
Habit the Source of Happmefs or Mifery, 135 
 
 often hurried ^way by its habits into thoughts^nd aflion^ 
 forbid by its reafon, i,ts principles, and even its will » 
 whereas bodily habits, though never io ready to ad, 
 never ad without orders. The fingers of a mufician can 
 perform a tune, or abllain from it, at his difcretion. But a 
 mind, habitually virtuous or vicious, frequently ftarts, 
 without deliberation or d^fign? into good or evil refo- 
 lutions, and from thence into luitable adions,, beture it 
 hath time to confider the motives or obftacles-to either^. 
 And, what is very remarkable, we feel in ourfelves, or fep^ 
 ip others, inftances of this every day, when ^o new or 
 occafional motive is offered, when we are alone, and in tjie 
 dark, fo that the mind, in this cafe, works only on 
 thoughts formerly laid in, and is aded pureJy by the 
 pleafure arifing from its habit. 
 
 While we are contrading an habit of any kind, the 
 thoughts and ads whereby this is done, are generally at- 
 tended with confiderable emotion, and always with a 
 greater or lefs degree of pleafure, which gilds, as it were, 
 and beautines to our imagination all the perfons, places, 
 circumftanccs, that happen to be conneded v/ith thoughts 
 fo plcafing, and adions fo agreeable. The whole fmiling 
 icene of circumftances, the whole foothing connexion of 
 thoughts, thus bundled together by pleafure, is imme- 
 diately painted and ftored in the memory. Every repe- 
 tition of the thoughts raifed in us, or of the adions to 
 which we are moved by the objed of our habit, being, in 
 like manner, attended with a new fet of circumflances, all 
 recommended to the imagination by a dill greater degree 
 of pleafure, the whole is committed to. the fame ftoi'i^. 
 Now this is fo often done, and we take fuch a pleafure 
 in doing ir, that our other notions are fgrced to give 
 way, and make room, both in our memory and atten- 
 tion, for the endlefs train of thoughts, that wait on the, 
 objed of our habit ; fo that, at length, we have httle elf(^ 
 to think of, at leaft that we can think of, with much plea- 
 fure, but this objed. Hardly any thing can fall v/ithin 
 our obfervation, that is not fome way or other con- 
 neded with it in our minds, and that does not therefore 
 agreeably lead our imaginations to it, and help us to re 
 
 K 4 colled 
 
1^6 Hahit the Source ofHappinefs or Mifery. 
 
 colled all the pleafures and delights we found in it oh 
 former occafions. Hence it comes, that, whatever we 
 are doing, or where-ever we are going, this pleafing 
 ghoft of our former enjoyments meets, haunts, and 
 courts us to a repetition. Of this we think by day ; of 
 this we dream by night ; for this we plod, we fcheme, 
 we labour, as if we knew no other good. 
 
 If, for inftance, the mind of a man is habituated to 
 piety, and the love of God, having often taken the rife 
 of his contemplations and devotions from the beauty of 
 the creation, from the pofTefTions he is blefled with, from 
 the dangers or diftreffes he hath been delivered out of, 
 from the virtuous affedion of his wife, from the dudful 
 and promifing behaviour of his children, and the like j as 
 often as any ot thefe objects (which is almoft every hour 
 of his life) prefents itfelf to his mind, or is prefented by 
 time, place, or other circumftances, his heart overflows 
 with joy •, and God, the fource of that joy, in all the in- 
 finite luftre of his goodnefs, is inftancly confefTed as fuch, 
 is blefTed, is adored, in a tranfport that takes up all the 
 foul, and ftands recorded in the mind, as an inrefiftible 
 invitation to eternal repetitions. All he fees, hears, taftes, 
 knows, nay, even all he fears or abhors, are, one way or 
 another, fo conneded in his mind with the goodnefs of 
 God, by the innumerable ads of devotion, to which he 
 hath accuftomed himfelf, that nothing can occur, which 
 does not lead him to the exercife of his habitual piety. 
 Thofe things, which rivet the afFedions of others to the 
 earth, carry up his to God. Thus his blefTed habit con- 
 fecrates the very world, that fnare to the fouls of other 
 men, into an holy altar, where the heart of this happy 
 man burns and brightens in the love of God. 
 
 In like manner, on the other hand, the habitually co- 
 vetous, or incontinent, can hardly ever turn his thoughts 
 or fenfes to any objed, which hath not been, by fome 
 means or other, interwoven with the pleafures of his ha- 
 bit, and therewith intimately mixed in his depraved ima- 
 gination. Hence it is, that circumftances and occur- 
 rences, the moft remote in the nature of things, give 
 Mim, occafion to refled with pleafure on paft gains, though 
 , never 
 
Habit the Source of Happinefs or Mifery. 137 
 
 never fo unlawful •, or on paft enjoyments, though never 
 fo brutal -, and to widi for a repetition •, which, if ob- 
 tained, fills his imagination with a new kz of circum- 
 ftances, that ferve only to mukiply the provocatives of 
 his vice, and the handles by which temptations may feize 
 him. As every thing puts a pedant on talking of his 
 books, and a tradefman of his calling ; fo every thing 
 furnifhes the covetous, or the lewd, with an hint to think 
 of the fordid or fenfual pleafures his vice hath habituated 
 him to ; to wifh for greater of the kind -, and with all his 
 might to follow the bent of that wifli, till it is crowned 
 with fuccefs, and feeds his habit with an additional in- 
 centive. 
 
 No more, I think, need be faid to prove the power of 
 habit to hearers, who, if they refle6t at all, cannot but be 
 fenfible of the truth I have been enforcing. It is now 
 time attentively to confider, that, if habit can thus change 
 the very nature of the mind, can give us new motives to 
 a6lion, can fo greatly ftrengthen our former ones ; and, 
 by fo doing, can, with incomparably more force, than 
 every thing elfe in the world, determine us to virtue and 
 happinefs, or vice and mifery ; we ought, undoubtedly, 
 above all things, to guard ourfelves, with all poffible 
 watchfulnefs, againft the introdudion of bad habits ; to 
 labour in the conqueft of them, if already introduced ; 
 and alfo to do our utmoft, to adorn our minds with fuch 
 as are of a religious and virtuous tendency. 
 
 The methods to be ufed in preventing, or reducing, 
 bad habits, being pretty much the fame, but requiring, 
 in the latter cafe, a more fkilful and refolute application, 
 1 fhall confine myfelf to it, and begin with it, becaufe 
 there is no introducing good habits, till the bad ones are 
 removed. We muft firll ceafe to do eviU before we learn 
 to do well. No habit of virtue can poffibly be acquired, 
 while there is flill an oppofite habit of vice in full pof- 
 feflion of the heart. The latter muft not only be broken 
 down, but the very ruins and rubbifh of it muft be re- 
 moved, and the ground cleared, or the former can never 
 be eredled in its place ; nor will the Spirit of God enter, 
 till the evil fpirit is driven out. 
 
 But, 
 
138 Habit the Source of Happinefs or Mifery. 
 
 But, before a man-can think of fubduing an evil haUt, 
 he mull be fenfible he is fubjed to it, and apprifed of his 
 danger, in cafe this neceffary reformation fhould not be 
 efFeaed. Now, it is the unhappinefs of thofe, who are 
 fubjed to thefe habitual diftempers of the mind, to think 
 too well ol their own condition, ,to look on themfelves as 
 free from habits of vice, or to confider them as lefs inve- 
 terate than they are. " We generally defpife the firft 
 *' approaches of bodily diforders," fays Seneca-, *' ^Of 
 *' initance, when we are attacked by the gout, we fay, 
 '* we have wrenched our ankle, or hurt our foot ; but, 
 " as foon as the diftemper arifes to a great height, we 
 " become but too fenfible of our real ailment. But i,t 
 '* happens otherwife in diforders of the mind ; for in 
 *' them, the worfe weare, the lefs (tn(Q we have of our 
 *' difeafe." St. Chryfojlom fays to the fame purpofe, *' If 
 *' our cloaths are new and clean, we take all the care 
 *' in the world to preferve them fo i but, when they are 
 " once fpotted in feveral places, we are in little pain, 
 *' though they Ihould become wholly foul." 
 
 But if a man is fo given to any particular vice, that 
 neither reafon nor religion, nor even its prefent ill effeds 
 on his fortune, his health, or his chara,der, can hinder his 
 falling into that vice, as often as he is tempted to it, he 
 may aiilire himfell he is not only the habitual flave of it, 
 but fo tar gone, that it is well if he ever gets clear 
 of it. . 
 
 However, he can hardly be fenfibJe of his condition, 
 without a mod earnefl: defire of reformation, becaufe he 
 knows, in cafe his wicked habit is not fubdued, he is un- 
 done. To effed this neceffary work, he ought to con- 
 fider, that fo far as any of his evil djfpofitions may be 
 called an habit, fo far it owes its ftrength to an accuftom- 
 ary repetition of fuch thoughts and adions, as that parti- 
 cular difpofition prompts and tempts him into. As then 
 it grew and gained upon him by repeated pradice, fo it 
 is impolTibie it fhould ever be weakened or conquered, 
 but by an obftinate abftinence from all fuch thoughts and 
 adions. In bodily hab.ts we find, that barely not doing, 
 will, in time, difable us from doing that which 'we were 
 
 never 
 
Habit the Source of Happinefs or Mifery. 139 
 
 never fo expert at. The tradefman, who hath, for a while, 
 laid afide his tools, and the mufician, who hath not, for 
 fome time, exercifed his fingers, do both lofe much of 
 their fl<ill, and retqrn with fome ftiffnefs and aukwardnefs 
 to their refpedive arts -, and, did they intirely difufe them, 
 they would, at length, become as great bunglers at them, as 
 thofe who never knew anything of the matter. It isjuft 
 fo in habits of the mind. The good and the bad are alike 
 learned, by praftifing and repeating ; and unlearned ^gain, 
 by neglefting or abftaining. 
 
 But, this admitted, how fhall he who knows it, and is 
 defirous to have recourfe to it, find fufficient refolution 
 to ftifle fuch thoughts, and abftain from Hich aftions, as 
 have, for a long time, afforded him the chief delight and 
 pleafure of his hfe ? What fhall enable him to perfevere in 
 this refolution, not for a day or month, but for a courfe 
 of years ? 
 
 Here, it muft be owned, lies the difficulty : fo far as the 
 preparation for this encounter depends on himfelf, he is 
 to let out with a deep fenfe of the prefent miferies his 
 wicked habit involves him in, and of the far greater evils 
 it will certainly bring upon him, if it is not thoroughly 
 fubducd. In order to this, infamy, ficknefs, death, or 
 damnation, according to the quality of his habit, are to 
 be fo feelingly and clofely connected with it in his appre- 
 henfion, that it will be impofllble for it, at any time, to 
 tempt him with the pleafures of a repetidon, without fhock- 
 ing him, in the fame inftant, with thofe alarming confe- 
 quences. As this connexion between an habit of fin, 
 and its miferable effedls, is founded on the nature of 
 things, and neceflary, it will be the eafier for him to 
 fix it in his imagination ; and every woful experiment 
 he ventures to make againft his good refolution, will 
 quicken and force the fenfe of it home upon his heart, 
 provided he is not wholly loft to refleftion. 
 
 Armed with this awakening apprehenfion, he is to 
 draw his next argument, both for expedition and perfe- 
 verance, from the very nature of habit itfelf. He knows 
 that every habit, whether good or evil, grows ftill the 
 ftronger, the more it is indulged. Now, as he is not fc 
 
 loft 
 
140 Habit the Source of Happinefs or Mifery. 
 
 loft to God and himlelf, as to have no thought of break- 
 ing his evil habit, and reforming fome time or other, fo 
 he ought to confider, that this great and necefiary work 
 will be the eafier, the fooner he fets about it. He 
 fhould confider alfo, that, as long as he continues to a6b in 
 conformity to his habit, his own natural refolution is de- 
 caying, the violence of his temptations increafing, time 
 flipping by, death and eternity haftening forward, and 
 the grace of God infenfibly forfaking him ; and all to- 
 gether confpiring to render the work of reformation im- 
 pradlicable. Laftly, he Ihould confider, that he is all 
 this time acquiring a ftill keener tafte for vice, and lofing 
 all relifli of virtue -, lofing fight of all the arguments and 
 motives to a good life, and plunging yet deeper and 
 deeper into temptations and motives to wickednefs. Re- 
 ligion, and Heaven, and God, arc withdrawing and difap- 
 pearing very faft ; while infidelity, and fin, and damnation, 
 and the devil, are advancing upon him with the fame 
 hafte. This is a dangerous, this is a frightful, ficuation. 
 A mind, juft entered into an habit of fin, is in a Hate 
 much refembhng that of him, who is falling from a pre- 
 cipice. Could it, in the firft moment of its fall, catch 
 hold of any thing to flop it, it might ftill be preferved ; 
 but, if it milTes this opportunity, it quickly gathers fuch 
 force from its very fall, as muft, without a miracle, dalh 
 all its hopes of falvation to pieces. If the man, thus cir- 
 cumftanced, is a lover of liberty (and who is not ?), how 
 can he think, without a deep and fettled indignation at 
 himfelf, on x^^e. defpicable ftate of fiavery to the very 
 worft of tyrants, into which, like a fool, and a coward, 
 he is plunging headlong ! How can he fubmit his neck 
 to a yoke fofhameful, and fo galling, without confidering, 
 that, if it is fufFered to reft there any time, he will begin 
 to look on it as a bracelet, and an ornament ; and then 
 farewel to all attempts to fhake it off ! Can he poffibly 
 think with patience of ftill going on to infult his Maker, 
 and infinite Benefactor, by abufing and perverting the na- 
 ture God hath given him ? and, inllead of afting like a 
 reafonable creature, can he be content to live and perifh 
 .like a beaft \ and, after death, to fink into difgrace and 
 
 mifery. 
 
Habit the Source of Happlncjs or Alifery. 141 
 
 mifery, into chains and darknefs, with the devil and his 
 angels ? Can he reft in fuch a thought as this ? Can he, 
 for a moment, balance on it between iiis duty and his ha« 
 bit ? No ; lurcly he is not fo abandoned, fo loft to com- 
 mon fenfe. If he is not, \tt him inftantly have recourle 
 to the advice of St. Chryfojiom^ who recommends folitude 
 and retirement, as necellary in fuch cafes as his, " The 
 " fubduing an evil habit/' fays he, " is very difliculc, 
 *' becaufe it is fupported by pleafure •, whereas virtue, to 
 " one accuftomed to vice, is attended with much labour 
 " and irkfomenefs. God, in order to break the Hebrews 
 " of the wicked cuftoms they had contracfted in Egypt, 
 *'• led them into the wildcrnels ; and, in that fituation, 
 " formed their minds, by trying on them all the force 
 ** both of harlh and gentle methods. And, even with 
 " all this, a perfect reformation could not be immediately 
 *' brought about. While they were fed with celeftial 
 " food (fuch is the force of habit), they ftill longed for 
 *' the ortions, the garlick, and flefh-pots, di Egypt ^ to 
 *' which they had been accuftomed.'* However, though 
 folitude alone may not all at once be able to work a cure, 
 the habitual imprefiions of ^\n remaining with us, when 
 the tempting obje6ls are removed \ yet thefe impreffions 
 will grow every day weaker, when thofe obje(5i:s are no 
 longer prefent to renew them. And here the powerful 
 aids of religion may be called in by ardent and uninter- 
 rupted devotions. Here, inftead of the allurements that 
 perpetually folicit us in the thoroughfare of the world, 
 i:rcper mortificadons may be applied to fubdue the paf- 
 fions, and empty the mind of its long-con trailed filth. 
 Here heaven in ail its glories, and hell m all its horrors, 
 may be calmly contemplated at leifure by the mind, now 
 vacant of other obje6ls, lefs fit to be defired or feared. 
 Here we may awfully meditate on the wifdom of God, 
 from which we cannot hide ; on his preience, which we 
 cannot fly from ; on his juftice, which we cannot byafs j 
 on his power, which we cannot refift. Here the motions 
 of his Holy Spirit may be attended without diftradlion or 
 difBpacion. 
 
 For 
 
J 42 Habit the Source ofHappinefs or Mifery. 
 
 For our encouragement to attempt the reduflion of 
 our evil habits, the Saint, juft now quoted, places almofl: 
 the whole difficulty of reformation in the beginning j and 
 exp'erience teaches the fame thing. " As foon as a dif- 
 •' order," fays he, " is paft the height, health begins 
 *' to return. Abftain from vice for two days, and you 
 *' will find it eafier to do it on the third. If afterwards 
 •' you add ten, you \*ill find encouragement to lengchen 
 " out the time to twenty, then to an hundred, and fo to 
 ** your whole life." This expedient, though perhaps to 
 a man of wit it may feem ridiculous, loudly fpeaks the 
 Wifdom of its contriver. Such arts are as neceflary to 
 wean men from their habitual vices, as thofe ufed with 
 children in refpedl to the bread. St. Bernard prevailed 
 on a nobleman of his acquaintance, who had led a very 
 bad life, to try this experiment on himfelf. " He began 
 *' with advifing him to make his peace with God. The 
 *' other anfwered, he could not do it, he was fo accuftomed 
 *' to fin. Make a truce with him then, faid the Saint. 
 *' Howfhallldo that?" faid the nobleman. "Abftain," 
 faid the good man, " for three days, from all manner of 
 " fin, for God's fake. This done, he made him do the 
 " fame for the Apoftles, then for the Martyrs, then for 
 *' the Confeflbrs, i£c. After the finner had gone through 
 " his courfe, he faid to St. Bernard^ I now am deter- 
 *' mined, not on a truce, but a peace, with God. I 
 *' now no longer perceive any great difficulty in being 
 *' good." Had he been to make a report fome years 
 afterwards, when habits of piety and virtue were con- 
 trafled, he would, I queftion not, have reprefented 
 the good life he then led, as full of confohtion and 
 
 joy- 
 He, who hath ftibdued an evil habit, will find it no 
 
 very difficult tafk to acquire a good one. As abftaining 
 from finful thoughts and a6lions proved fuccefsful in the 
 former work, fo continually repeating and praflifing the 
 contrary, which will foon become delightful, muft enfure 
 fuccefs in the latter. All the fame confiderations and 
 helps, made ufe of in conquering a finful habit of any 
 kind, are equally applicable to the acquifition of the op- 
 
 pofjte 
 
Habit the Source of Hap pine fs or M'lferj, 143 
 
 pofite good one. The mind therefore, on its quitting a 
 bad cuftom, ought to continue in the fame motion and 
 direction, till it finds itfelf fixed in the contrary habit, firft, 
 Bccaufe perhaps fuch a motion may not be eafily recovered, 
 Ihould it be fuffered to ceafe ; fecondly, Becaufe that \t 
 the very motion requifite to the attainment of the con- 
 trary good habit ; which, in the third place, is necefiary 
 to prevent a reiapfe, and to prepare the mind for think- 
 ing rightly, and doing good, wherein confifts the per- 
 fedion of this work •, God requiring it of us, not only 
 that we fliould ceafe to love vice, and to do evil, but 
 that we fhould alfo love virtue, and learn to do well. 
 
 Perhaps 1 fhall make myfelf better underftood by in- 
 ftanccs. What is it that enables the covetous man to get 
 the better of his habit ? It is certainly the confideration, 
 that his vice is mean and foolilh in itfelf; and that it 
 alienates the heart from God, who hates it, becaufe it is 
 idolatry. He who quits it on thefe accounts, ought, for 
 the fame reafons, never to be fatisfied with himfelf, till 
 he abhors it, and finds a pleafure in generoufly diftri- 
 buting fo much of his fublbnce as he can fpare, to the 
 neceffities of others. 
 
 The incontinent, in like manner, if, by abflaining 
 from wanton thoughts and praftices, becaufe they bring 
 remorfe on his confciencc, infamy on his charader, fick- 
 nefs on his body, and ruin on his foul, he hath brokm 
 the force of his fmful habir, ought not to ftop here, bat 
 fhould purfue the fame falutary way of thinking, till he 
 arrives at a fettled deteftation of the vice, in which habitual 
 chaftity confiils. 
 
 If he, who hath been accuftomed to think lightly of re- 
 ligion, and to make a jell of its truths or ordinances, 
 hath, by a ferious conviction, been converted from fo im- 
 pious an habit, ought he not, on the ftrength of the fanne 
 convi6lion, to go farther, and labour to habituate his foul 
 to an ardent love of God, and an awful refped for his re- 
 ligion ? Whatfoever it is, that cures him of his contempt- 
 for religion, ought it not to warm his heart in its favour, 
 with unfeigned zeal and affedion ? There is here no roon^ 
 for coolnefa or indifference. 
 
 2 There 
 
144 JJabit the Source ofHappinefe or Mifery. 
 
 There is a greater difference, than is generally ima- 
 gined, between not being covetous, and being generous ; 
 between not being lewd, and being chafte •, between not 
 being profane, and being pious or religious-, and, in all 
 other inflances, between not being vicious, and being 
 virtuous. A mere negative virtue, confifting only in the 
 abfence of vice, is neither a fufficient principle for the 
 fervice of God, nor foundation for the happinefs of man ; 
 nor can it poffibly have any fecurity of its own continu- 
 ance. The mind cannot be long indifferent or neuter be- 
 tween vice, which feems to bid fo high for the heart, and 
 virtue, that really does it. But, if it could, is indifference 
 a foundation for happinefs ? Or will fuch a neutrality fa- 
 tisfy that Mafter, that Creator, that Saviour, that Com- 
 forter, to whom we are fo infinitely indebted ? 
 
 There is no comparifon between the difficulty of break- 
 ing an old inveterate habit, which arms itfelf againft us 
 with the long-tried pleafures it offers on compliance, and 
 eontrafting a new one, in order to which we have, at 
 worft, nothing more to overcome, than a mere diftafte ; 
 which, as it proceeds from difufe, may foon be con- 
 verted into fatisfaftion and pleafure by praftice. But, 
 till the mind can reward itfelf with this pleafure, in the 
 growth of a good habit, it ought to give alacrity and 
 perfeverance to its refolution by ftrongly connefting in 
 the imagination the delightful hope of pleafing God, of 
 fortifying the foul againfl temptations, and of qualifying 
 it for the performance of great and worthy actions, and 
 the enjoyment of endlefs happinefs and glory, with the 
 habit propofed. Relying on the ftrength of a refolution 
 raifed by fo noble a profpeft, and confident of divine af- 
 fiftance, let it truft God with a trial, that it may fee whe- 
 ther its attempt will not be foon bleffed with fome degree 
 both of fuccefs and fatisfadlion. If it argues a bafe and 
 flavifh turn of mind, to fubmit and reft contented under 
 the tyranny of a finful habit, it (hews an equal degree of 
 cowardice and lazinefs, not to aim at the attainment of a 
 good one. Both demonftrate a diftruft in God, and a 
 defperate Hate of the foul. 
 
 If 
 
Habit the Source ofHappinefs or M>f.'ry. 1 4 ^ 
 
 If finful habits are not prevented, or early correcflcd, 
 there is too much reafon to apprehend we (hall never get 
 rid of them, either in this life, or in that which is to come. 
 A wicked a6lion, once committed, is more eafy to be 
 committed again. What confcience fcruples at firfl:, it 
 fwallows afterwards, without mifgiving. One fin, though 
 never fo abominable in itfelf, becomes a fort of precedent 
 for another of the fame kind ; fo that time and pra6lice 
 infenfibly give authority, as it were, and fanflion, to fin. 
 Vice, grown hoary with age, fets up for a fort of re- 
 fpedV, and claims fomewhat like a -right from long pof- 
 feffion. Hence it is, that, in procefs of time, an ungodly 
 citjiom^ grown Jlrong^ is kept as a law. But we fhould 
 aflc ourfelves, whofe law ? Is it not the law of him, who 
 is an enemy to all the goodnefs, and all the happinefs, of 
 men ? And have \vc fo little fenfe or fpirit, as to fubmin 
 tamely to the law of luch a tyrant, and fuch a deceiver, 
 who is to punifh us even for our obedience? Our ftrength 
 in reUfting temptations, before we are lulled afleep in the 
 lap of fin, is like that of Samfon, before his locks were 
 (horn, and forfakes us as unaccountably afterwards ; on 
 which we are blinded and bound without refiftance, and 
 carried captives by cufl:om to do the drudgery of fin in 
 fetters, which if we fliake off with our bodies, it is the 
 utmoft to be hoped for. Could we fee through the mo- 
 mentary pleafures that tempt us into habits of fin ; could 
 we forefee the extreme difficulty of breaking an habit of 
 fin, once it is confirmed, together with the infinite mi- 
 feries it muft infallibly bring upon us, if not totally fub- 
 dued (and who fo blind as not to fee thefe things V) ; we 
 fhould be afhamed to call ourfelves rational creatures, 
 did we nor, with all polTible expedition and refolution, 
 labour to prevent or conquer every habit of fin. 
 
 As, on the other hand, without habits of virtue and 
 goodnefs, it is impolTible to be happy, ought we not, 
 from the firit hour of ferious refledion, to refolve on en- 
 tertaining our minds with a continual round of religious 
 meditations, and conftantly exercifing all our powers in 
 afts ot virtue, that reiig'on and virtue may root them- 
 felves in our hearts, may grow up to maturity in our af- 
 VoL. II. - L fections. 
 
1 4 <5 Habit the Source ofHappinefs or Mifery . 
 
 fedions, and plentifully Ihed abroad their lovely fruits In 
 all our adions ? The entrance into all arts and habits is 
 attended with fome aukwardnefs and diftafte, efpecially 
 when we begin to pradife in order to an habit diredly 
 oppofite to a wicked one lately laid a fide. But a little 
 Cime and refolution will enable us to get the better of this 
 rawnefs •, and (till, as we become more expert and ready 
 in the practice of what is right, we fliall begin to find the 
 more latisfaftion in it, not only becaufe it is agreeable in 
 itfelf, but becaufe pleafure always waits on habit. We 
 cafily learn arts that pleafe, and contrad habits in which 
 we find, or hope to find, delight. And why (hould not 
 thofe of virtue be the moft delightful of all .? If peace and 
 latisfadion within, if credit and honour from without, if 
 ielf-approbation in all we think, if courage and chear- 
 fulnefs in all we do, if the fweet intercourle of blefUngs 
 received from God, and of gratitude repaid by an inno- 
 cent and affedionate heart, be delightful, then mull thofc 
 habits, that procure us thefe immenfe advantages, be in- 
 cxpreflibly delightful. 
 
 Come then, let us wafte no more time in words •, but, 
 with hearts deeply detefting our evil habits, and earneftly 
 defirous of fuch as are pleafing in the fight of God, 1st us 
 haften to his table ; let us devoutly befeech him, with his 
 almighty hand, to root up, and pluck out of our nature, 
 all habits of fin •, and, in their place, to plant thofe of true 
 religion and virtue, to his eternal honour, and our ever- 
 lafting falvation -, through Chrift Jefus our Redeemer, to 
 whom, with the Father, and the Holy Ghoft, be all might, 
 majefty, dignity^ and dominion, now, and for evermore. 
 Amen. 
 
 D I S 
 
[ '47l 
 
 DISCOURSE IX. 
 
 The Neceffity of a fpeedy Repentance. 
 
 Isaiah Iv. 6, 7. 
 
 Seek ye the Lordy while he may be found -j call ye 
 upon him J ivhile he is near. 
 
 Let the wicked forjake his way, and the unrighteous 
 man his thoughts ; and let him return unto the 
 Lordy and he Jhall have mercy upon him j and to 
 our God J for he will abundantly pardon. 
 
 IT is the firft principle of every living thing, of the 
 molt ftupid brute, and even of the moil infenfible in- 
 le6l, to fly from that which threatens it with mifery or 
 defl:ru6tion, and to feek its own fafety and prefervation. 
 Yet the moft fenfible and thinking man mult forefee the 
 evils that approach him, and know his danger, before he 
 can make a fingle ftep out of their way. 
 
 It is not the greatnefs of the danger we are in, but the 
 keennefs of our own apprehenfions, that alarms us. Ac- 
 cordingly, our caution is always proportioned to our ap« 
 prehenfion. Of two perfons, equally in danger, the one 
 ihall be (truck with a greater degree of fear, a:;d 
 confequently Ihall take more care to efcape, than :ne 
 other. Of two evils, the one infinitely exceeding the 
 other, the ieaft is often the moft cautiouQy avoided j be- 
 
 L 2 caufe 
 
14^ T^he Necejjity of a fpcedy Repent an Ci\ 
 
 caufe it happens, through miftake, to be the moft fen- 
 fibly apprehended. 
 
 ' Since then we never proportion our caution immedi- 
 ately to the danger itfelf, but to our own apprehenfions, 
 •it mufl; be a matter of the higheft moment to us to form 
 right apprehenfions of things, and ftill the greater any 
 evil really is, and the more likely it may be to befal us, 
 to he proportionably the more alarmed at its approach. 
 So much does it concern us, thus to fit our apprehenfions 
 to our danger?, that, in cafe we do otherwife, we fhall 
 fometimcs, although in a ftate of fin, and in the utmoft 
 danger of total and eternal ruin, be more careful to (hun 
 the inconfiJerable or miftaken evils of this life, than the 
 Kifinite miferies of the next ; and as often as duty (which 
 frequently happens) is attended with prefent danger, (hall 
 be too ftrongly tempted to avoid the danger, by flighting 
 the duty ; that is, like an ill- managed horfe, that flarts 
 from a bird, and throws himfelf over a precipice, we 
 fhall fly from the fmaller evils that attend on virtue to 
 ,try us, into the infinitely greater miferies wherewith vice 
 IS pLinifhed. 
 
 Is it not very flrange, that reafonable creatures fliould 
 fo miferabiy mifplace thc-ir apprehenfions, and know fo 
 little how to proportion them to their dangers, when the 
 evils to be apprehended are fo widely, fo vaftLy, different 
 both in kind and degree ^ And is it not matter of (till 
 greater amazement, that people who difcover, on all other 
 occafions, the greateft fenfibility and force of thought, 
 fhould often bs found among the blindefl of thofe, who 
 tremble at mere momentary or imaginary mifchiefs, and 
 plunge forward into endle.'s mifcry, with a meafure of 
 ilupidity exceeding that of the moft fenfekfs brute .? 
 
 There are feveral infirmities that help to pafs this grofs 
 and fatal impofition on us ; fuch as, firfl:, that too great 
 attachinent to things about us, which, engaging all our 
 attention, leaves us little or none for things to come. We 
 are fo taken up with hearing, feeling, tafl:ing, feeing, that 
 we can forefee nothing, at leafl nothing beyond the pre- 
 fent flate of things. A (mall Icreen, placed near the eye, 
 can flrut out the moft glorious and extended profpe(5t j 
 
 nor 
 
7he Neceffify of afpcedy Repentance. 149 
 
 nor do we even care to look by it, if it happens to catch 
 our obfervation with two or three pretty fantaftic figures, 
 or painted landfchapes. 
 
 Again, the faith of many is weak, and, of courfc, their 
 apprehenfions of mifery in another life mu(l be propor- 
 tionably feeble. Their doubts in this cafe, contrary to 
 what happens in all other cafes, prevent the ir fears. 
 
 Others, although their reafon is convinced, and they 
 do acSlually believe, yet their hearts are not engaged. 
 They have faith, but it is aQeep or dead. They believe, 
 but they do not fo much as tremble. 
 
 Many, again, don't know the llate of their own minds. 
 They are farther gone in fin than they imagine. Habit 
 hath made their vices familiar to them. Befides, they 
 do not much care for difcovering deformities in them- 
 ftlves. Thus they are not fure they need repentance ; or 
 if they are, yet not knowing the inveteracy of their dif- 
 Order, they know not how fpeedy and powerful the cure 
 ought to be. 
 
 But farther : Moil people are tender of themfdves ; (b 
 that although they believe in a future ftate, and know 
 themfelves to be unfit for the happinefs of that ftate ; 
 nay, "although they find themfelves daily hardening in 
 fin, and drawing nearer to the brink of ruin •, yet they fo 
 tenderly love their eafe, and their pleafures, they fo horribly- 
 dread the thought of denying themfelves, of weeping, of 
 mortifying, of dying to fin, that they are unable to look 
 repentance in the face. Though the gangrene is fpread- 
 ing apace, and with it death is making an hafty progrei"^-, 
 yet they cannot refign the limb to the faw, becaufe it will 
 hurt them. The diftemper, although extremely dan- 
 gerous, may be cured ; but then the medicine is bitter, 
 and the patient's palate is fo delicate, that he cannot 
 fvvallow it. How then will death, eternal death, go down 
 with him ? 
 
 Fooliih and fenfelefs as he may feem, who is in this 
 unhappy ftate of mind, yet we frequently fee perfons Of 
 the quickefb apprehenfion, and cleared underflanding, thus 
 circumflanced. They believe fin, unrepented of, will be' 
 punifhed with eternal mifery. They have, at times, a 
 
 L 3 Ihgcking 
 
i^o ^he Necejpty of a fpeedy Repent ajice. 
 
 Ibocking fenfe of that mifery. They are convinced, the 
 pleafures of fin bear no proportion to it. All this, how- 
 ever, does not hinder them from indulging themfclves in 
 fins of the groflefl: nature, with as little regard to their 
 danger, as the moft thorough paced infidel or fool can 
 boaft of. Strong as their faith is, their paflions are yet 
 ftronger. Befides, the objeft of pafTion is prefent ; that 
 of faith is future ; and prefence outweighs infinity, in the 
 balance of a fenfual or worldly mind. Reafon and faitii 
 a6t no other part, than that of fpies on the actions of fuch 
 men. 
 
 The generality of ill livers, vainly hoping for length 
 of days, and time to repent, lofe the prefent opportu- 
 nity, which, for many realbns, is always the befl. They 
 defire and hope for what they are already poflefTcd of, 
 as if they were not to have the fame, or greater, amufe- 
 inents, to engrofs every moment of their future time, as 
 it fhall arrive. They will foon repent, but not now. 
 This is their rule and refolution to-day -, and, in one 
 fenfe, they are true to it, for it fhall be their refolution 
 too to-morrow \ and fo on, till at length the time comes 
 when they mufl repent -, but, unhappily for them, death 
 comes with it, and it is too late. 
 
 It may be, if the nature and neccffity of repentance, 
 together with the encouragements, motives, and helps, 
 to it, were brought properly under our confideration, we 
 fhould not only know better how to fet about the necef- 
 fary work, but find more alacrity to carry us thro' it. 
 
 Firll then, as to the nature of repentance, we may be 
 fure It is not a mere remorfe. Mere guilt is fufficient to 
 condemn us ; but it mufl be fomething elfe that can pro- 
 cure a djfcharge and pardon for us. 
 
 Nor is it a bare ceafing from fiti, thro' fear of punifh- 
 ment, or the feverity of afRiclion, or the decay of paflion 
 and defire in old age. In all this there is no hatred of 
 fin, nor love of God ; but only a chain laid on the neck 
 of our finful inclination?, which ahke difables us from 
 doing good and hurt ; whereas, in a true repentance, we 
 mujl learn to do well, as neceffarily as ceafe to do evil. 
 
 Again, 
 
^he NeceJJJty of a fpccdy Repentance, 1 5- 1 
 
 Again, it is not a late concern for fin, like that of 
 Judas, when the opportunity and power of repairing the 
 mifchief we have done is quire paft. Though fuch a 
 concern fhould be deep enough to put a man on deftroy- 
 ing himfelf, yet what amends does he make by fo doing, 
 to eitherGod,or the world, for all the injuries he has offer- 
 ed to both ? Or what account does this enable him to give 
 of the good he had in his power to do, but neglcfled ? 
 
 In a true repentance there muil be a deep abhorrence 
 of fin, on account of its own natural foulnefs. Without 
 this we can never be fecure of keeping temptations at a 
 fufficient diftance. If we do not hate them, we fhall 
 be too ready to parly with them ; and this is almoft ne- 
 cefTarily attended with a reconciliation to them. 
 
 In a fincere repentance, we muil truly reprefent to 
 ourfelves the great certainty and feverity of the punifli- 
 ment which fin is attended with. Without thus fixino- 
 our eyes on that fhocking profpe6l, the prefent pleafures 
 of fin may eafily find means to entertain our thoughts. 
 
 A true repentance is impofilble, without the love of 
 God. We are not to hope, that mere felfiOi motives fhall 
 recommend our return from fin. Such may pofllbly force 
 us to forfake fin ; but there mufl: be fomething beyond 
 thofe to bring us to God ; and nothing but love can do 
 that. We muft fly to him, for his fake, as well as our 
 own. Befides, till we fincerely love God, we can have 
 no fecurity, that we fhall keep his commandments. 
 
 Again, in a true repentance there ought to be a flrong 
 mixture of fhame. Without this, we may be fure our 
 repentance is neither generous nor fincere. We cannot 
 approach God, after having grievoully ofi'ended him, 
 without being overwhelmed with fhame and confufion. 
 If we do, it muft argue great hardinefs and prefumption, 
 which are never found to accompany repentance. 
 
 Laflly, to diftinguifh repentance from defpair, it m.uft 
 be attended with hope and truft in God. Without this 
 ingredient, the mind will be tempted to abandon itfelf to 
 all manner of wickednefs, as having neither hope of a 
 better, nor fear of a worfe, condition. It will be apt to 
 fay to itfelf, as the men of Judah did to Jeremiah, There 
 
 L 4 is 
 
! 52 I'he Necejjily of a fpeedy Repentance. 
 
 is no hopSy fo I will walk after my own devices^ afid will 
 do the imagination of my evil heart. 
 
 It our repentance is enlivened and recommended by 
 thcie good qualities, it can fcarcely choofe but be deep, 
 iincere, and lading; it can hardly fail of producing ^W 
 works, and fruits meet for repentance \ and tht-refore may 
 juilly hope for approbation and acceptance from God. 
 _^ It is a moft dangerous miftake to promiie ourfelvcs 
 God's pardon, without an intire change of the heart. If 
 it continues the fame, it will produce the fame thoughts 
 and dcfircs, and thofe the fame actions, at leaft as foon as 
 ever the fhort fit of forrow for fin is over. It is impof- 
 fible, out of the treafure of an evil hearty to bring forth 
 any but evil things. We mult crucify the world to our- 
 felves, as St. Paul exprefles it ; we mufi mortify the deeds 
 of the fiefh. We mult firfi die to fin, and then be born 
 again ^ and live unto righteoufnefs. 
 
 A true repentance is no fudden fit nor flafh of forrow 
 for fin ; no (tart of devotion, that rifes and falls with an 
 occafional or accidental difpofition of mind. As it is to 
 change our minds from finful to virtuous, it muft be folid 
 and lafting. As in bodily diforders rclapfes are of the 
 moft dangerous confequence, becaufe they fall upon a con- 
 ftitution already worn out and enfeebled •, fo, in diforders 
 of the mind, they are no lefs apt to be fatal, becaufe they 
 fall upon refledions already raifed in vain, upon baffled 
 rtfolutions, and broken vows. 
 
 1 o conclude tiien, repentance is fuch an hearty forrow 
 for fin, as is fufBcient to make us abhor and abftain from 
 it for the future, and turn all our affections to God, and 
 our endeavours to his fcrvice. 
 
 If, after forming penitential refolutions, the perfon fhould 
 live to make trial of their Itrength, and find they can re- 
 ally ftand that trial, he 'may then afiiire himkif of the 
 mercy and forgivenefs of God j for, as, before, his fins 
 made him odious in the all- feeing eyes of his Maker ; fo 
 his good difpoficion and behaviour, recommended by the 
 intercefTion of Chrift (in whole blood his former fins are 
 wafiied away), make him now the obje6t of God's fa- 
 u^iur. He is not now what he was before ^ and there- 
 
 '2 fore 
 
7 he Necefjity of a fpeedy Repent anc-e, 153 
 
 fore God regards him in anew light. The evil that he hath 
 been guilty of is remembered to him no more. All his 
 tranjgrejfions that he hath committed., they JJoall not be 
 mentioned unto him. In turning away from the wickednefs 
 that he hath committed., and doing that which is lawful 
 and right., he hath faved his foul alive. He hath efcaped 
 as a bird out of the fnare of the jowler\ the fnare is broken ^ 
 and he is delivered. He is plucked, as a fire-brand, out 
 of the flames of hell, and planted by the tree of life, 
 where he Ihali bud afrefh, where he fhall bloom and flou- 
 riHi for ever. 
 
 But in cafe the perfon, who forms thefe refolutions of 
 amendment, hath no time left, either to try or confirm 
 them in, it being then impofiible for him to know 
 whether his repentance is fincere or nOr, he mud fum- 
 mon all che ftrength of his foul; he muft call in, with the 
 mod ardent prayers, the afTiftance of God's Holy Spirit ; 
 and, with the united ftrength of both, try to tear out fin 
 from his heart : he muft, in ftiort, do all he can ; that, 
 if he may not have afiurances of pardon, he may at leaft 
 have hopes. 
 
 But, fecondly, as to the necefllty of repentance ; we all 
 know that it is abfolutely neceflary we fhould repent., and 
 be converted., before our fins can be blotted out ; and we 
 likewifc know, that falvation, and peace with God, are im- 
 pofTible, without remifllon of fins. Thefe points are too 
 plain to need any proof. They only want to be confi- 
 ciered. 
 
 And as to the necefiity of a fpeedy repentance, that too 
 is acknowleged by all, in words -, but fhewn, in pradice, 
 by very few. Did we, with David., ferioufly thijik on 
 cur ways., we ftiould, like that royal penitent, turn our 
 fiet unto the teftimonies of God ; we fhould make hafte, 
 and delay riot to keep his commandments., if it were for. no 
 other reafon, than lefi we fhould be hardened by the conti- 
 nuance and deceit f nine fs of fin. If we will hear God*s 
 voice inviiing us to repentance and pardon, we muft liften 
 to it to-day •, perhaps, by to-morrow, that gracious voice 
 may ceafe, in refped to us, for ever. IVe mujt feck the 
 Lord^while he may be found. It would be a dreadful thing 
 
 not 
 
154 '^b^ NeceJJity of a fpeedy Repentance, 
 
 not to feek him, till he hath hid his face from us. We 
 Ttiufi call upon him while he is near •, for fhould we deter 
 it till he is withdrawn from us, the loudeft and mofb 
 moving voice of our diftrefs will not be able to reach him. 
 Then fhall he be as deaf to our cries, as we were for- 
 merly to his. 7hett fljall the door be (hut againji us, and 
 it will be too late to knock. 
 
 Nay, it will be as much too late to knock at our own 
 hearts, it they are once hardened in habits of Iin, The 
 entrance there will be every whit as difficult. How de- 
 plorable is his condition, who is forfakcn by an angry 
 God, and given over to his own imptnitent and reprobate 
 heart ? 
 
 To prevent this terrible fate, we iliould immediately 
 have recourfe to a deep and fincere repentance. If the 
 corrupt tree of fin, which bringeth forth corrupt fruity 
 whole fruit is death, be fuffered to grow for fome time, 
 it will mightily increafe in fize, ftrength, andhardnefs; 
 it will tlrike its roots deep, and fpread them far, into the 
 heart. It will then probably exceed our il:rength to pluck 
 it up, and our refolution to bear the pain of breaking and 
 tearing the heart to let it out. We generally find, upon 
 comparing the prelent ftate of our minds with what ic 
 was fome years ago, that our evil habits have rather gained 
 than loft ground •, and that it would be now an harder 
 matter to repent than formerly. What conclufion fhould 
 we draw from this } Should it not teach us to delay no 
 longer -, fmce delays render this necelTary work, which 
 is difficult enough at the eafieft, flill more hard and irk- 
 Ibme in itfelf, and more hazardous as to the fuccefs ? 
 
 Befides, the work of repentance is not only a difficult 
 enterprize, but often a work of time •, whereas we are far 
 from having time at our command. If ever we repent, 
 it muft be before death has placed us in an unalterable 
 (late. After death there is no returning to new trials, nq 
 amending nor changing to all eternity ; but as we fall, fo 
 we (hall lie, till the laft trumpet (hall fet us again on our 
 feet, before the throne of God -, there to receive the re- 
 ward of what we have done in the flefh.. 
 
 A 
 
The NeceJJity of a fpeedy Repentance. i^^ 
 
 A Tinner's time, in refpedt to the work of repentance, 
 is both fhort and uncertain. It is therefore abfokitely ne- 
 ceflary, that he lengthen out every moment to an hour, 
 and every hour to a day, by deep and keen meditations, 
 by earneft and vehement prayers, by mighty ftruggles, 
 and fwift advances ; for the niglit comes on apace, when 
 no man worketh ; efpecially if he be advanced in years, 
 or far gone in a mortal diforder. As he is then loaded 
 and opprefled with guilt, as life is leaving him, as eter- 
 nity advances fad upon him, as God's judgment with 
 heaven and hell is juft at hand, he hath not a fmglc 
 moment to lofe. He can never do too much, and pro- 
 bably cannot do enough, becaufe all he does is forced by 
 the horrors that encompafs him. His not having repented 
 before the approach of death compelled him, is juftly pu- 
 nifhed with the dangers that then affright him. I do 
 not fay, that he fliould intirely defpair \ but I am fure he 
 hath lefs reafon to hope than the king o^ Nineveh had, and 
 yet all that prince had to comfort himfelf with, upon the 
 judgment denounced by Jonas, was. Who can tell, if God 
 will turn and repent, and turn away from his fierce anger y 
 that we perijh not ? 
 
 You that have health, and feme profped: of life, con- 
 fider how poor a confolation it is for a man, when fin, 
 and death, and eternity, befet him, to have nothing in 
 that diftrefsful hour to fupport him, but a bare Who can 
 tell? 
 
 You every day almofl fee inflances of dying finners, 
 who would purchafe, were it pofTible, a few moments of 
 that time you are now trifling away, with ten thoufand 
 worlds, who, terrified with the near profpefl of eternal 
 torments, cling to the brink of life, and pant, and gafp, 
 for another moment to be fpent in vain cries for mercy, 
 as the rich man did for a drop of water to cool htT 
 tongue. 
 
 Put yourfclves in their condition, and confider feri- 
 OLifly how you would wifn, that you had repented fooner. 
 Could you work up your imaginatiois to conceive the in- 
 finite anxiety of fpirit, the anguifh of heart, the fear, and 
 terror, and flings, of a guilty mind, that diftrad their 
 
 fouls. 
 
1^6 T'/je Ncce//uy cf a fpccdy Rf pent mice, 
 fouls, and, if you live as they have done, mutl alfo di- 
 ftrad yours at the approach of death, it could fcarcely 
 fail to roufc you to repentance, and a hew hfe. 
 
 While we amufe ourfelves with a thoufand idle pre- 
 tences for delay, life fteals off unheeded, and a croud of 
 accidents and diftempers are continually fnarching here 
 one, and there another, from among up, without giving 
 us the leall alarm, more than if we ourfelves were immor- 
 tal, and exempted from cafuakies of death. What ar- 
 mour hath any one againft the ftrokes of fate, that fhould 
 make him fo fecure in the midft of danger? Alas! fays 
 he that is in health, how fhall I pafs my time ? Alas! 
 fays he that is a-dying, what would 1 give, th^t 1 might 
 have leave to fpend my life over again ! What another 
 kind of a liver fhould I be ! We can (land round his bed, 
 and hear him utter this with groans, like thofe of the 
 damned •, and though we are as wicked as he, cannot lay 
 it to our own hearts, till death puts us where he is, and 
 then it is too late. 
 
 If we confider the uncertainty of this life, we fhall- 
 draw from thence the moft powerful arguments for a 
 fpeedy repentance. We can repent no-where but in this' 
 world, nor any time but in this life. Now we have no 
 certain hold of life. A moment may remove us out of 
 ir, and place us beyond a podibility of repentance. Of 
 this wq have continual examples ; but what are we the 
 better .'' One drops from the precipice into eternity, and 
 plunges fuddenly, and unprepared, into a ftate that is 
 rever to change. Yet this is no warning. The next be- 
 hind him, who fo lately faw his fall, plunges after ; and 
 ten thoufand thoufand inflances of this nature amount not 
 to one fufRcient caution. The iaft is as blind and heedlefs 
 as the tirft. Thofe behind do not confider, that, unlefs 
 they repent^ they jJo all all likeimje -perijh. Miferable infa- 
 tuation I That men have no ray, no glimpfe, ot that fenfe 
 in this, which tht-y fhew in all other affairs of lefs mo- 
 ment. A trifling affront, or the prick ot a pin, is worth 
 preventing •, but the danger of dying in Cn, and finking 
 into eternal flames, is not worth one thought. 
 
 Let 
 
7 he Necefftty of a fpeedy Repentance, 157 
 
 Let no man deceive himfelf. To change one's nature, 
 to break off old habits, and contract oppofite ones, to 
 deny ourlclves, and renounce our pleafures, to die to fin, 
 and to be born again to righteoufnefs, is indeed no tri- 
 fling, nor any eafy work. Let no one therefore hope 
 that it may be .effefled in a few days, in the midft, per- 
 haps, of fickncfs and pain in the body, of confufion and 
 diltradtion in the mind. Such hopes are deceitful and fa- 
 tal. The early is, generally fpeaking, the only true re- 
 pentance. We fhould therefore begin in time, before we 
 are hardened in Hn, before Hiame and remorfe are worn 
 off, before thought and refledlion are ftifled, before God 
 hath quitted us, and withdrawn his grace and ..ffiftance 
 from us. 
 
 Since we muft all die, fince the irrevocable fentence of 
 nature is paffed againft us, and we muft foon be tranf- 
 ported to an endlefs and unchangeable ftate, how care- 
 ful ought we to be to prepare for that flate, to labour 
 that it may be a ftate of happinefs and glory, rather than 
 of mifery and difgrace ! As we are all travelling forward 
 to this fatal hour, we ought to fix our eyes upon it, as 
 the great point where trial is to end, and infinite happi- 
 nefs or mifery to begin, where all our virtues, all our 
 courage, and devotion, and faith, and ftrength, will be 
 wanting to fupport us in fo critical a jundure. How ab- 
 folutely neceffary will it be to have rid ourfelves of our 
 fins by a thorough repentance, and to have obtained the 
 powerful affiftance of God's Spirit, againfl we come to 
 contend with the great enemy of nature, the king of terr 
 rors, who brings with him pain and anguifh to our bodies, 
 and horror and confufion to our minds, be they never To 
 innocent. How dreadful a thing would it be to have our 
 confciences, on that great occafion, prefent us with a long 
 and black account of unrepented fins, and threaten us 
 with terrors infinitely more to be feared than thofe of 
 death ! How carefully ought we to guard againft this ad- 
 ditional diftrefs ! And by what means fhall we awaken 
 ourfelves to fufficient caution, but by making death the 
 fubjed of frequent meditation, and attentively confidering 
 'What it is to die ? To die, is to leave this world for ever, 
 
 to 
 
1 58 7 be Necejjity of a fpeedy Repentance. 
 
 to finifh our trial, to rife to the ftate of angels, or fink to 
 the condition of devils. 
 
 Since death makes fuch a total change, and is attended 
 with fuch prodigious confequences, how ftrongly ought 
 our fpirits to receive the imprelTion and expeftation of it! 
 How high ought our hearts to beat at the thoughts of 
 fuch a change, fuch an introdu<^lion to infinite tranfports 
 of delight, or exc^uifite agonies of woe, that are never to 
 end! 
 
 I have dwelt the longer on this, and fliall take up lefs 
 time in handling the following points, becaufe the ne- 
 ceflity of repenting is not fo well confidered, as the en- 
 couragements and helps to it are known. 
 
 Let us, however, now proceed, in the third place, to 
 confider the encouragements and helps to repentance. 
 
 The greateft finner cannot fay he hath not fufficient 
 encouragement to repent. Though his ftns he as fcarlety 
 yet if he turns away intirely from them, the mercy of 
 God, through the merit of Chrift, can make them as 
 white as fnow ; and though they be red like crimfon^ can 
 cad out the deep llain and dye, //// they be like the natural 
 untainted wool. 
 
 When the zvicked ?nan, faith God, turneth away from 
 his wickednefs that he hath committed^ and doth that which 
 is lawful and rights he fhall fave his foul alive. Let the 
 wicked forfake his way, and the unrighteous man his 
 thoughtSy and let him return unto the Lord, and he will 
 have mercy upon him \ and to our God, for he will abun- 
 dantly pardon. Here is no diilindion made between de- 
 grees of fin, nor any finner excluded, but by his own im- 
 penitence, from pardon. The Lord is good, his mercy is 
 everlafiing, his mercy endureth for ever. Provided a 
 fincere repentance render us obje6ts of pity, we fee the 
 divine mercy cannot be wanting to us. Befides, Chrift 
 hath laid down a fufficient price for the fouls of finners. 
 He came into the world to fave them, and accordingly 
 hath made a full atonement to the juftice of God for all 
 their repented fins. He does more ; he fits at the right 
 hand of his Father, and, having all power in heaven and 
 earth, makes continual intcrccflion for the penitent. 
 
 It 
 
The Necejjlty of a fpeedy Repentance, 159 
 
 It is plain then, that if we can turn to God, he will 
 
 turn to us. But here is the difficulty \ how can we turn? 
 Let us not be difcouraged. The work of repentance is 
 not, perhaps, fo eafy as fome, and I am fure it is not 
 fo hard and irkfome as others, imagine it. 
 
 Repentance hath never fo hard a tafk, as when it is to 
 encounter with inveterate habits of fin -, and yet, even in 
 that cafe, the enemy, if we perfevere, grows every day 
 weaker, and the encounter eafier to us. No habit^ 
 though never fo long indulged, can quite take away our 
 freedom. We can ftill refift, if we pleafe, and with-hold 
 our thoughts, and our will, from fin, provided we have 
 other obje6ls, fufficiently engaging, to employ them j 
 and a little confideration will foon furnifh us with fuch. 
 
 Did we not delight in fin, we could eafily abftain from 
 it. And could we find pleafure in repentance, we fiiould 
 as eafily be perfuaded to repent. Now we ought not to 
 think repentance altogether an unpleafant work. It is 
 true, it takes from us many fenfual and unlawful plea- 
 fi.ires ; but then it rids us, at the fame time, of all thofe 
 guilty refledlions, of all thofe infinite fears and anxieties, 
 and of thofe deep fi:ings, with which confcience wounds 
 the fpirit of him who gives himfelf up to fuch plealures. 
 Now I muft infifV, that if repentance did no more, it 
 would be, on that account only, an agreeable work. But 
 it does a great deal more •, it gives us fuch comfort in 
 reflexion, fuch joy in meditation, fuch fweet fruits of 
 fafety, fuch tender and refrefiiing hopes, in the place of 
 horrible fears, as are enough to fweeten even its mortifi- 
 cations to us. 
 
 How pleafant is it to throw down an heavy load, and 
 give the weary fhoulders reft ! This pleafure confcience 
 feels upon lightening itfelf of fin. 
 
 How plealant is wealth, after we have felt the miferies 
 of want I The foul feels this pleafure, when after a long 
 want of all that is good, of all the graces, and virtuous 
 endowments, and comfortable refleflions on good aftions, 
 in which fpiritual abundance confifts, it begins to lay by 
 religious riches, and to have a treafure in heaven. Could the 
 
 mifer 
 
ido The NeceJ/ity of a fpeeih Repentance. 
 
 mifer transfer his paffion to this kind of riches, what a 
 faint would he be ! 
 
 There is great delight in rifing from infamy to glory. 
 Let the ambitious think of this -, and, quitting the low 
 purfuit of worldly honour, afpirc to an heavenly crown, 
 to an objed; truly glorious. 
 
 There is great delight in throwing off an heavy and 
 galling yoke, and raifing the neck to an eafy and grace- 
 ful pofture. Let thofe who are enflaved to (in, the worft 
 of tyrants, and who pant after liberty, refleft on this, and, 
 by a refolute repentancCi affert the native, the true liberty 
 of the foul. 
 
 There is moft eJiquifite delight in the recovery of 
 health after ficknefs. Let thofe whofe fouls have lan- 
 guifhed under the fever of irregular defires, or been 
 torn by convulfive pallions, apply the fpiritual medicine 
 of repentance, and it fhall bring with it the unfpeakable 
 comforts of fpiritual health. 
 
 There is infinite tranfpott in being made fure of life, 
 after danger and fear of death. Let thofe whofe fins 
 have filled them with jufl fears of eternal death, rife by 
 a true repentance from dead works^ and they fhall be 
 placed in an happy fecurity of living for ever. 
 
 In fhorr, if repentance hath its pangs, it hath its 
 pleafures too, and thofe of the mofl folid and rational 
 nature. But the helps to repentance, which are fufficient 
 for the work almoft in any circumflances, are ftill a 
 further encouragement to the undertaking. I fhall men- 
 tion fome of the moft powerful. 
 
 Firft, An ill liver fhould confider, that, if he do not 
 repent, he is undone for ever •, and that there is fcarce 
 any difference between long deferring, and never repent- 
 ing, as the woful experience of thoufands can witnefs. 
 
 But as a perfon, falling into an habit of fin, may be 
 juftly compared to one falling afleep, who but half hears, 
 and half confiders, what either the advice of others, or 
 his own thoughts, fuggeft to him -, and as therefore it is 
 neceffary, that, like Samfon^ he fhould be affiidted to be 
 roufed, he (liould lay hold of ficknefs and trouble, and 
 labour, on thofe thoughtful occafions, to give all pofTible 
 
 hie 
 
Hhe NeceJJify of a fpeedy RepentdJici, 1 6 1 
 
 life and force to his refolutions-. They put him in mind 
 of his own frailty, of life's uncertainty, of God's difplea- 
 fure. They alfo incline him to difrelilh the pleafures, 
 and defpifc the poflTeflions, of the world. 
 
 This is a moft excellent opportunity for him to with- 
 draw his mind from appetite and fenfe, and to call his 
 giddy thoughts from the windows, where outward vanity 
 hath held them at gaze, and to retire into himfelf, where 
 the work of repentance chiefly lies. 
 
 As foon as he hath got fo far, and hath taken a full 
 view of his finful difpofitions and habits, it is then time 
 to bethink himfelf of proper means to reform them. 
 And here it Ihoiild be his firfl: care to call upon God's 
 Holy Spirit to direft and fuccour him^ to give force to 
 his reflexions, and life to his refolutions. ^qv is he to do 
 this only in his private walks, in his clol'et, and on his 
 bed J but he muft wait on God at his houfe, and at his 
 table. It is in his own ordinances, and at the times and 
 places of his own appointment, that we can befl: hope to 
 have audience of God. Applications haughtily condu<fted, 
 in a way of our own, cannot be fo pleafing, nor are to 
 expeft equal fuccefs. But both in his publick and private 
 addrefies, he Ihould be very conftant, and very impor- 
 tunate. He is begging for his foul, and heaven, and 
 therefore fhould prels with all the ardour and vehemence 
 of his foul. 
 
 He Ihould alfo add mortification to his prayers, as an 
 expedient doubly ufeful, inafmuch as it will give devotion 
 to his fupplications, and at the fame time direftly ibike at 
 his evil difpofitions. But by mortification I mean, not 
 only fading, but alfo denying himfelf the other pleafures 
 of fenfe and appetite, which, though innocent in them- 
 felves, may either have a tendency to divert his peniten- 
 tial thoughts, or inflame his criminal defires. Befides, it 
 is really of inconceivable ufe, in conquering any paxtic^- 
 lar inclination, to accuflom even our other inclinatior^ to 
 be denied ; and the very exercife of dominion over our 
 paflions helps to ftrengthen the prerogative of the mind 
 and will. 
 
 Vol. II. ' M Again, 
 
i6i The Necejfity of a fpeedy Re.pc?itance. 
 
 Again, it will be of great ufe to Ihun the encounter of 
 thofe temptations, to which we know our'felves moft apt 
 to yield. It is much eaficr to refift our own bad difpofi- 
 tions, when we have nothing c-lfe to combat, than when 
 they are enflaved and backed by the prefence of the tempt- 
 ing objedt. 
 
 Notwithftanding all the force of paffion and habit, yet 
 we find we have a power over our own thoughts, and can 
 turn them to, or from, particular objects. Now, how is 
 it that finful obje(5ls engage our thoughts ? Is it not by 
 linking deep into the paftions, and fettling a pleafing kind 
 of correfpondcnce with them ? Let us then give good 
 obje<5ls, luch as God, our duty, our lalvation, i^c. the 
 lame advantage, by turning our thoughts frequently and 
 Itrongly, and attaching our paiTions, to them. How 
 comes it that we find it lb eafy to entertain good and ba- 
 nifh bad thoughts in the time of afRi(5tion ? Is it not, that 
 the power and difpleallire of God, together with our own 
 infirmity and danger, and the vanity of the world, are 
 then more feelingly apprehended ? Let us endeavour then 
 to retain the lame fear of God, the fame humility, the 
 lame vigilance, when brighter days, and more comfort- 
 able thoughts, return. Nay, let us then increaie our fears 
 and watchfulnels, becaufe it is then we moft need them ; 
 for then our enemy, who had been diflodged for a time, 
 comes back with his recruit of feven fpirits worfe than 
 hlyiijelf\ then our vicious pafiions having been a while 
 bent down, and held back by an outward force, return, 
 with a kind of Tpring, to their wonted objeds. 
 
 How comes it to pafs, that even the prefence of a per- 
 iovi^ whom we do not iVar in the leaft, is fufficient to 
 hinder us from committing many of thofe crimes, which 
 we fcruple not in fecret ? Docs not this fliew, that the 
 ■4ear of human cenfure or punifhment is ftrong enough fo 
 to bridle even our moft inveterate habits, and our keeneft 
 defires, as to hinder us from afling in obedience to them ? 
 Does not this fhew us, that our thoughts, or at leaft our 
 aftions, are ftili in our power \ And if it is the prclencc 
 of a witnels that awes u?, how carefully fiiould we guard 
 cur hearts, when we know that h« who Teeth in Itcrer, 
 
 who 
 
^he Neceffify of a fpcedy Repentance, 1 63 
 
 \vho is now our witnefs, and Ihall one day be our judge, 
 Jiath his eye full upon us, and is looking us through and 
 through in our moft fecret moments ? Is it becaufe we 
 don't fee him, that we don't fear him ? Surely if we 
 knew a man iaw us, though we could not fee him, it 
 would effedually deftroy our privacy. But there is no 
 fuch thing as fecrecy, or privacy. We have always un- 
 numbered eyes upon us. We are perpetually furrounded 
 with invifible beings, and continually in the prefence and 
 fight of God. To pretend to hide our crimes in the 
 midft of fo clear and fo fevere an itifpedion, is as abfurd, 
 as it would be in a blind man, to attempt a theft in the 
 midft of an exchange at noonday. 
 
 I know nothing that could fo powerfully fupprefs evil 
 thoughts, and fo totally prevent wicked adions, as the 
 ftrong and fenfible apprehenfion of God's continual pre- 
 fence. The penitent ought therefore to poflefs his whole 
 imagination with it, and ftrike it deep into his heart. If 
 he could but once bring himfelf to an impofiibility of 
 wandering in his thoughts from the prefence of God, that 
 alone would perfefb the work of repentance in him ; that 
 by itfelf would regulate his whole behaviour, and infure 
 his falvation. 
 
 The penitent fhould find out virtuous entertainments 
 for his defires, as one of the beft prefervatlves againft 
 vicious ones. He Ihould never want an honeft employ- 
 ment i for while he is bufied in that, he can neither be 
 perfuing unjuft gains, nor be fo much at leafure for cri- 
 minal pleafures. He Ihould always confider the fhortnefs 
 and uncertainty of life, and the infinite diff^erence between 
 the things of this world and the next. The grateful fenfe 
 of God's goodnefs, the awful fear of his jull difpleafure, 
 the continual expeftation of his judgment, the delightfiii 
 hope of eternal glory, and the alarming dread of ever- 
 lafting torment, fliould take it in their turns to engage 
 his thoughts in deep meditations. 
 
 And on thofe thoughtful occafions he fhould thus reafon 
 with and queftion himfelf: 
 
 What am I doing ? Which way ani I going ? Ami 
 doing the work of God, and travelling in the way of his 
 
 . M 2 com- 
 
'154 7he NeceJJiiy of a fpeedy Repent atJce. 
 
 commandments ? No. Whom then am I ferving ? The 
 devil, the world, and the flefh ? What ! am I in a party 
 ■with devils? Am I gratifying the devil, and offending 
 God ? Am I ferving the author of my ruin, againfl: the 
 Author of my being and my Redeemer ? And how do 
 thefe mafters of my own choofing pay me for my drud- 
 gery ? In vanity and vexation of ipirit, in difappointment 
 and anxiety, in Ihame and remorfe; and, left the wages of 
 fin fhould not be fully paid, in death, in eternal death. 
 But what if they paid me with all the pomps and plea- 
 fures of the whole world ? Would that be equivalent for 
 ■ my lofles ? By no means : What Jhallit profit me, ifljhall 
 gain the whole worlds and Jh all lofe my own foul \ and what 
 JJjall I give, or what (ball I take, in exchange for my foul? 
 Am I labouring then to undo myfelf ? Miferable man that 
 I am ! Would God fo reward me, if I ferved him ? No : 
 he would pay me with at leaft peace of mind here, and 
 ^n eternal crown hereafter. Shall I not then repent, and 
 return to him ? Yes : but may not that be done rime 
 enough a while hence ? No : time is not at my difpofal ; 
 and befides, I find, while I defer this work, it becomes 
 tvery day more difficult, fo that in a little time, if I go 
 on, I Ihall have brought my foul into fuch a ftate of fin, 
 that neither that, nor my body, (hall have ftrength enough 
 left to bear its cure ; my foul will want refolution, my 
 mind will not be able to endure fuch trouble, nor my 
 body fuch diforders, as are neceflary to corredl and rouze 
 me -, and fo diftradion or death muft come upon me, be- 
 fore my amendment can be effeded. I perceive then I 
 have not a moment to lofe. 
 
 I will therefore afflict my fpirit, I will rent my heart, 
 and to my God will I return. But will God receive me 
 after fo many horrid provocations ? Yes •, if I can return, 
 he is ftill gracious and merciful -, he is flow to anger, and 
 of great kindnefs. But how fhall I return and perfevere ? 
 Am I able to change and regenerate my nature ? With 
 God's affillance I may. I will therefore call to my aid 
 .ill my own refledions on God's juftice, on his mercy, on 
 my own danger, on the uncertainty of life, on the foul- 
 nels of fin, on death, judgment, heaven, and hell ; and 
 
 I having 
 
The NeceJ/ity of a fpeedy Repe?2tance. 165 
 
 having fummed up all the reafons for repentance, have- 
 ing fummoned all my ftrength, and cried mightily for 
 God*s afliftancc, will fall heartily to the great work. I 
 will frequent the company of good men, and God's mi- 
 nifters, and call earneftly on them for advice and help. 
 I will watch ; I will pray ; I will fly to God's houfe ; I 
 will haften to his table ; and, being purfued for my life 
 and my foul by the enemy, will cling to the horns of the 
 
 altar. 
 
 May God fill us with fuch thoughts and refolutions as 
 thefe i may he fanftify and ftrengthen them by the affift- 
 ance of his Holy Spirit ; and may he then be pleafed to 
 accept of them, through the merit and mediation of Chriil 
 Jefus ; to whom, with the Fatlier, and the Holy Spirit, 
 be honour, and majefty, and glory, for ever. Amen. 
 
 Ma X>l^i 
 
 I. .--t 
 
[i66} 
 
 DISCOURSE X. 
 
 The Weak fliould be watchful 
 
 1 Cor. X. 12. 
 
 Lcf him, that thinketh he jlandeth, take heed left 
 
 he Jail, 
 
 THere is no ftrength nor firmnefs in man, nor con- 
 conftancy in human affairs. All things, as well 
 within, as without us, are in motion ; and the 
 ground whereon we are placed, is both fleep and flip- 
 pery. It is however chiefly from within ourfelves, from 
 the ficklenefs of our own hearts, and the violence of vari^ 
 ous pafTions, that all our giddy changes, our dangerous 
 agitations, and unhappy lapfes, proceed. Yet we are too 
 vain to think ourfelves fo weak, and too apt, when we 
 fall, to blame the circumftances we were in, the accidents 
 that befall us, or the perfons we had to do with, for 
 throwing us down. Like children, turning fwiftly about, 
 we imagine the whole world is running round, and io 
 vainly endeavour to flop the fuppofed motion of the 
 world, when we ought rather to fix ourfelves. In this 
 whirl we turn ourfelves fo quickly from one objeft, de- 
 fire, or purfuit, to another, that few enjoyments or de- 
 figns of any kind are brought to perfection. All things 
 feem to dance round us, to prefent themfelves in a fwift 
 fiicceflion, and retire along the circle, till the megrim of 
 
The Weak Jfmdd be ivaichjiil. \ 6y 
 
 life grows too ftrong for our heads, and then enfues a 
 fell, into Ibme folly, or crime, or affliftion, from whence 
 we rife not again, till the head recovers, and repentance, 
 which is little elfe than turning the contrary way, refettles 
 all our thoughts and pafiions. 
 
 Some, who think rhemfelves in a firm and ftanding 
 pofture, are neverthelefs carried about by fwift and vari- 
 ous motions *, and others, who do really fland for fome 
 time, vainly imagine themfclves fafe againft the danger 
 of all future alterations or falls. Yet the caution given to 
 him, who thinketh he Jiandetb, to take heed, leji he fall^ 
 will be found a very ncceflary one to him, who actually 
 ftands, if we confider either our own weaknefs, or the 
 fenfe oi ftanding or falling in this paflage of Scripture. 
 
 As to our own weaknels, we need be at no further 
 trouble to be convinced of that, than to recolleft our paft 
 follies, our many and great mifcarriages, from whence 
 the too apparent danger of falling into the like again may- 
 be eafily concluded. 
 
 By him, who in the text is faid to (land, is to be un- 
 derftood a perfon, who having embraced the principles 
 of eternal life contained in the gofpel, lives not only in 
 the belief, but pra(ftice, of them. By falling is to be un- 
 derftood, a relinquilhing of thofe principles, either intire- 
 ly or in part, or ading contrary to them. The former 
 is reprefented to us here, and in other parts of Scripture, 
 by the figure of ftanding, becaufe that pofture denotes 
 action, refolution, and ftrength •, the latter by that of 
 falling, which fhews weaknefs, failure, and defeat. 
 
 The better to know the ulefulnefs of this caution, let 
 us confider a little more at large the weaknefs of mankind, 
 firft in regard to principles, and then in regard to actions ; 
 after which it will be neceitary to think of fome methods 
 to bear us up in fuch principles, or practices, as may be 
 faid to give the foul an ereft and upright pofture. 
 
 Our weaknefs in the choice of principles themfelves, as 
 well as in refped: to their influence on our aftions, is very 
 great ; for the mind of man is capable of choofing opi- 
 nions, not only upon examining and judging by reafon, 
 but in fome meafure upon the recommendation of mere 
 
 M ^ Irking 
 
1 68 The fFeak fiould be watchful. 
 
 liking and inclination. It is alfo capable of admitting by 
 thofe means contrary principles at different times, and 
 even at the fame time, when the contrariety is not at all, 
 or but faintly, perceived -, which often happens. 
 
 This being the cafe, and our minds fo pliant, whatfo-? 
 ever principles education may have inftilled during youth, 
 when we come to the ufe of thought, and begin to feel 
 our paflions and delires violently drawing us towards va- 
 rious objefbs, we find it in fome fort neceflary to bring 
 thofe principles to a re-examination, in order to a choice 
 of our own making. But it generally fo falls out, that 
 before this examination can be had, or this choice made, 
 we ufually fix on fome obje£t, or efpoufe fome defign, 
 for better, for worfe, which our afi^edions have en- 
 gaged us ro. Hence it happens, that fuch principles, as 
 ferve our pre-engagements, are retained, and thofe of a 
 contrary influence foon forced to give way to a fort of 
 refiftance, with which the mind arms itfelf againft them. 
 
 For inflance ; If it is the purpofe of the mind to pleafe 
 and enjoy God in a courfe of virtue, and to aim at eter- 
 nal happinefs and glory, then thofe ftridler principles, by 
 which the wildnefs pf our nature may be corre6led, its 
 filthinefs purged away, and the foul exalted to a tafle for 
 high and fpiritual pleafures, are retained, or required. 
 
 But if either mere worldly profit, or fenfual pleafures, 
 llio.uld happen to be foremoft in view or purpofe, then 
 the more indulgent do6lrines of religion are chiefly dwelt 
 on, and greatly overflrained i the feverer ones are relaxed, 
 and qualified by this falvo, and that artful interpretation ; 
 doubts and cavils are fought for in the underfl:anding, 
 bewildered by loofe converfition, or falfe learning ; and 
 corrupt opinions raked for in the foul fink of appetite and 
 affection. If reafon is too ftiff" to yield to this force or 
 impofition, fhe is diverted from all religious enquiries in 
 a total inattention, by a clofe application to the bufinefs 
 or pleafures of the world, v/hich, being long and can- 
 llantly perfeyered in, render the mind forgetful of all its 
 former religious impreflions, and almoft wholly incapable 
 gf new ones. Now the abf^nce of good principles will 
 
Tf'he Weak Jhould be ivatchful. 1 6^ 
 
 as cffeftually ferve the purpofes of a vicious mind, as th,e 
 utmoft acquielcence in bad ones. 
 
 It is certain, as to a numerous clafs of men, that incli- 
 nation, defire, palTion, and prejudice, didtate abfolutely to 
 them. They think of things as they would have them, 
 and feed up their minds with fuch notions, about religion, 
 as they relilh mod. They would rather be their own 
 teachers, in order that they may be their own lawgivers, 
 than fuffer others to inftru(5t them, who might put a 
 bridle in the mouth of paffion, and lay a yoke on the 
 neck of defire. In truth, it is a difagreeable and fliock- 
 ing thing to have a principle within us, which, immediate- 
 ly upon our giving into any pleafure or delight, examines, 
 with an odious feverity, whether that pleafure be con- 
 fiftent with the ftridnefs and purity of a fpiritual life, and, 
 if it judges it otherwife, threatens us with no milder a 
 fcourge for the enjoyment of it, than hell-fire and damna- 
 tion. It is to keep his mind clear of fo terrible a gueft 
 as this, that the libertine flies to bad converfation, worfe 
 books, and to the moft dangerous of all feducers, his 
 own dillolute heart. The ftridler principles being by thefe 
 means fhut out from his mind, and never admitted to a 
 fair hearing or tri^, the heart, in the mean time, melts 
 and opens to all opinions that encourage his pleafures, and 
 countenance his crimes, to all reflexions that may help to 
 keep up an irreligious fneer, to all cavils that may raife 
 doubts, and all doubts that may enfeeble his litde remain- 
 ing fenfe of religion. The weaknefs of human nature is 
 not more remarkable in any infl:ance, than in this fall 
 from the dignity of a being, born to the free and happy 
 fervice of God, to infidelity ; from thence to brutality ; 
 and finally from that to the nature and condition of devils. 
 Formerly the worft of men waited to be thus thrown down 
 by the enemy of their fouls, and their infirmities ; but, 
 in thefe deteftible times, they deliberately fcheme their own 
 ruin, and exert their utmoft ftrength to make the terrible 
 ^ap. 
 
 There are infinite numbers, who, as if religion were a 
 thing of no confequence, give little or no time or pains 
 |p the choice of principles j but either receive no princi- 
 ples 
 
170 The Weakjhoiild be watchful . 
 
 pies at all, living like hruU heafts^ without God in thi 
 worldy or contenting themfelves with luch as their bi<yot- 
 ted and fcnflefs parents were pleafed to intail upon them. 
 Others, after having received good principles, feldom turn 
 their meditations on them, giving up their thoughts and 
 time intircly to the things of this world, infomuch that 
 their religious imprcffions, howfoever found, howibever 
 ''alarming, are foon baniftied from their cc'iciences, and 
 confined to their memories, from whence thty are fome- 
 times indeed drawn out to the war of opinion, and em- 
 ployed in difputation j but never againft the enemies of 
 their fouls. 
 
 As to the weaknefs of man in refpeft to his adions, it* 
 is even greater than that which he fhews in the manage- 
 ment of his principles. Folly and wickednefs divide al- 
 moft his whole life between them. 
 
 However, fome there are, whom the grace of God 
 hath forbid to be included in this cenfure. ^Thefe men, 
 in the main of their adtions, are enabled to govern them- 
 felves by wife and virtuous rules. Others again, after a 
 courfe of folly and fin, return to their duty, and arm 
 themfelves againff their known weaknefiTes, with effedual 
 relolutions. Thefe two forts of people may be truly faid 
 to ftandy and therefore are admonilhed by the text, to 
 take heed left they fall from their prefent virtuous life, to 
 one of fin and wickednefs. 
 
 As to the firft, let him not repofe too much confidence 
 in his never having greatly fallen, in his prefent abhor- 
 rence of fin, or love of virtue. Thefe are indeed bleffed 
 difpofitions, and ought to fill him with comfort and gra- 
 titude, but not with aifurance or fecurity. He is Hill 
 but a rqan, a very weak and fallible man, with many 
 a dark corner in his mind, where evil difpofitions lie con- 
 cealed even from himfelf •, whence they will be fure to 
 rufh out againft his refolutions, when temptations come 
 to call them forth, perhaps in an unguarded hour, when 
 he is leaft prepared to receive their charge. He hath not 
 yet founded the depths of his own falfe heart, which, 
 like the hearts of other men, is deceitful and defferately 
 vjickedy infomuch that he cannot know it j and therefore 
 
 it 
 
The Weakjlould he ivatchful. 171 
 
 fe is abfolutely neccflary he fhould be perpetually on th* 
 <i92Xch. againft it. There is Ho man whojinneth not. Who 
 can fay, I have made my f elf dean, I am pure from ftns ? 
 if jufi man falleth feven times a day, and at every fall is 
 uncertain whether he fhall be able to rife again, or not. 
 Who can ttnderjland his errors ? If thou fhalt mark iniqui" 
 ty, O Lord, who fhall fiand? 
 
 But inftances will as fully prove, and more ftrongly 
 enforce, this point. 
 
 Adam, though formed in the utmoft perfedlion of hu- 
 man nature, encouraged to duty by all the delights of 
 paradife, and threatened, in cafe of difobedience, with 
 death -, at the requeft of his wife, and to gratify an im- 
 pious curiofity, broke the command of his Maker and 
 Benefafbor, and eat the forbidden fruit. 
 
 Noah, though faved for his righteoufnefs from thfe 
 univerfal deluge, foon after this prtxligious deliverance, 
 fell into the fin of drunkennefs, and lay in his tent naked, 
 and uncovered, like a beaft. 
 
 Lot, who was vexed with the filthy converfation cf the 
 wicked, and was faved for his fingular goodnefs frofti a 
 lliower of fire and brimftone, had hardly made his efcape, 
 when he got drunk, and committed inceft with his own 
 daughters. 
 
 Mofes, the iervant of God, fo diftinguiflied for hii 
 meeknefs, believed not God, to fan^ify him; Hbt pre- 
 fumed to be angry with God, and fpoke unadvifedly with 
 his lips. 
 
 David, who followed God with all his heart, who wa§ 
 the man after God's own heart, abufing tiiat profperity 
 and power, to which God had raifed him from the lo\^ 
 condition of a fhepherd, debauched the wife of 2. man, 
 who was expofing his life for him ; and, to hide the 
 crime of adultery, committed murder. ^ 
 
 Solomon, the wifefl of men, who by the m'ei'e bounty 
 of God ^as made the greateft and happieft of princes, 
 giving himfelf up to women, forfook his God, and, like 
 a fool, adored a fehflefs idol. 
 
 St. Peter, notwitftanding his boafted zeal for his Ma- 
 fter, after all the warning given him, and ail his profef- 
 
 fions 
 
ij2 The Weak Jhould be watchful. 
 
 fions of fidelity, not only denied but forfwore his God 
 and Saviour, juft when that Saviour was going to be cru- 
 cified for him. 
 
 Thefe inftances, with many more of the like nature, 
 which might be added from Scripture, from profane 
 hiftory, and daily experience, may ferve to humble the 
 prefumption of thofe, who lead the moft unblamable lives, 
 and put us on our guard. If men, who feem to have 
 been exalted almoft above the rank of human nature, who 
 were aflifted by an extraordinary influence from God, 
 could fall fo miferably low, how lliall the beft among us, 
 furrounded by fo many temptations, betrayed by fo many 
 weaknefTes, and relying only on the ordinary fupports of 
 God's Spirit, think himfelf fafe ? Is any man fo vain, as 
 to think hefiandeth upon better ground than thefe perfons, 
 fo illuftrous for their holinefs ? let fuch beware of a fall. 
 There is no turn of mind fo ftupid, or fo dangerous, as 
 confidence in ones felf. How many powerful armies have 
 been betrayed to the mercy of an handful of men by pride 
 and fecurity ? In like manner, all our other preparations 
 for the war againfl our baptifmal enemies, if circumfpe- 
 dtion be wanting, muft be fhamefully defeated. 
 
 It one, who hath, for a confiderable part of his life, 
 been able to hold on in a courfe of virtue, is nevertheleis 
 in fo great danger of falling, how much more ftridly and 
 carefully ought he to diilrufl: and watch over himfelf, 
 who by repentance is raifed from fin, and ftands as yet 
 on the brink of a gulf, out of which he was dragged with 
 the utmoft difficulty ? Let not fuch a perfon depend too 
 confidently on the Ihocking remembrance of his danger, 
 on his abhorrence of fin fo grievoufly tried, on the plea- 
 fures he feels upon being reftored to a new life, on the 
 throws and agonies his repentance coft him, nor on the 
 f^prength of his prefent refolutions, which are too apt to 
 flag, and in time die away. Thefe are, it is true, very 
 neceffary and very happy difpofitions ; but, alas ! his na^ 
 tural corruptions, his inveterate habits, may eafily prove 
 too iirong for them, if God do not powerfully alTift him, 
 and if he watch not continually with the anxiety of one, 
 who Hill thinks his foql in the greate(t dangcif, His work 
 
 is 
 
The Weak JImild be watchful. 1 73 
 
 is but juft begun -, and as, on the one fide, his headftrong 
 pafllons are not yet half fubdued, fo, on the other, his 
 refolutions, which are as yet but half formed, require every 
 moment to be reinforced and fed by keen appreheitfions. 
 He hath only juft taken the field againft his tnemy, but 
 by no means obtained a deci five victory. Let him there- 
 fore quicken himfelf with the remembrance of all his for- 
 mer inefi'eflual repentances, and baffled refolutions, and 
 with the profpe6t of the great prize for which he runs. 
 Let him keep a watchful eye upon his enemies, and wind 
 up his foul to an high and vehement allarm. 
 
 Let us now, in the laft place, confider of fome means 
 to ftrengthen him that ftandeth. 
 
 And, firft, to confirm him in his principles, it will be 
 
 necelTary to lay it down as a rule, as a firft principle, 
 
 never to confult with appetite or paffion about the choice 
 
 of others. Thefe iav/lels fubjeds ought to have no vote 
 
 in choofing their governors •, for, if they have, they will 
 
 infallibly pitch on fuch as may encourage, not reftrain, 
 
 their irregulartities. The principles ol Chriftianity, v.'hich 
 
 his reafon hath already chofen, or approved of, arc not to 
 
 be laid afide ; becaufe the corruptions of his nature, which 
 
 it is the end of thofe principles to correal and bridle, 
 
 may bar them with fome impatience. It would be very 
 
 abfurd in him, who hath already fcen the light, to for- 
 
 fake it, merely becaufe it reproves his evil deeds -, and to 
 
 choofe darknefs, only becaufe it hides him from himfeif ; 
 
 to defert his unerring diredor, fpeaking to him tiiroug'i 
 
 his reafon, through his confcience, and through the word 
 
 of God, and to put himfelf under the management of 
 
 thofe blind guides, his paflions. He would not, if he 
 
 were to travel to a diftant city, choofe a blind madman 
 
 for his guide ; or if he were to manage a ftiip at fea, he 
 
 would not quit the rudder, and leave it to the winds and 
 
 ftorms to direft his courfe. Why then will he fuffer his 
 
 pafiions to take the place of his reafon, as wifer guides 
 
 to happinefs ? 
 
 As to his reading, if he comes with fufficient abilities 
 and candour to an enquiry about religion, he may fafely 
 pe.ufe all that has been written on the fide of libertiniirn, 
 
 and 
 
174 ^^'^ Weak fiould be ^)atchfuL 
 
 and win return the firmer Chriftian, when he finds, as 
 he certainly will, that nothing but artful infinuations, 
 fenflefs jells, and impudent cavils, can be brought againft 
 his religion. But if his learning and judgment are unequal 
 to fuch a controverfy, as it is a thoufand to one they are, 
 he had better avoid fuch performances ; there not being 
 one of them, that is not penned with infinite art and fub- 
 tilty. Did I know a book written againft Chriftianity, in 
 a fair, open, and intelligible way, I would advife every 
 Chriftian to read it : But, after a long acquaintance with 
 fuch performances, I never yet met with one, that had 
 the leaft fhadow of a title to that honeft charafter. 
 
 Nor Ihould the Chriftian, who hath only knowlege 
 enough for his own ufe, ever engage in converfations or 
 difputes with perfons of loofe principles. He cannot re- 
 form them, and they may corrupt him. He fliould 
 therefore leave them to feed the infidelity of one another 
 with irreligious prate, as boys too often do their imagina- 
 tion with leud difcourfe ; and if he muft enquire about 
 the truth of that religion he hath already embraced, 
 fhould do it in this ftiort and eafy method, which can 
 never deceive him : " Can I be happy without virtue ? 
 " Can I be virtuous without religion ? Do I know of 
 ** any religion fo likely to make me virtuous, as the 
 ** Chriftian ? Is there not fomething within me, that re- 
 *' quires reftraint and amendment ? And is there not 
 ** fomething in Chriftianity wonderfully fitted to reftrain 
 " what is wild, and amend what is amifs in nature ? Am 
 *' I not in great fears and anxieties for want of an aflur- 
 *' ance, that I fiiall be pardoned the fins I have already 
 " committed .'* And does not Chriftianity let forth to me 
 *' a fufficient atonement for my fins, and afford me the 
 '* moft comfortable hopes of forgivenefs ? I clearly per- 
 *' ceive it anfwers all thefe excellent ends, and comes up 
 " to all my wants. I therefore firmly believe it came 
 " from the God of truth ; and, inftead of liftening to 
 ** the cavils raifed againft it, either by the arts of bad 
 '* men, or by my own foolifli imaginations, and corrupt 
 ** paflion, I will for ever reft on it as the very pillar and 
 '* ground of truth, adoring, with a moft gratsiful heart, 
 % « the 
 
The Wesk fhould he 'watchful, I j^ 
 
 »* the infinitely gracious Author and Giver. I will lodge 
 •* it in my very foul, and hold it to my heart with fuch 
 *' a ftrength of convidion, and fuch a ileadineis of faith, 
 " that life and death, men and devils, fhall never be able 
 *' to wreft it from me." v 
 
 Being thus confirmed in your faith, you have now the 
 ftrongeit and fureft prefervative againil falling into a fin- 
 ful courfe of life, if you do not fuffer that faith to be in- 
 active and dead within you. Turn your eyes therefore 
 continually towards the great things it fets before you, 
 and when temptations begin to alTault you, it will fhew 
 you God at your fide, watching you, and bring his 
 judgment-feat, with heaven and hell, as ftrongly into your 
 view, as if you was really on your tryal -, for, although 
 you are not ^(5lually there, your faith will convince you, 
 that the meffengers of juftice are now leading you to the 
 bar, and that you have but a few fteps to make till you 
 fliall be arraigned, and finally fentenced. A good life 
 and heaven are not different things. They are only the 
 infeparable parts of the fame whole. You are no fooner 
 entered heartily into the firit, than you may find yourfcif 
 in view of the latter i fo that your faith can fhew you 
 the bright mountains and fnining buildings of the new 
 Jerufalem. Vice and hell are likewife to faith the fame 
 thing. The inftant you enter upon a courfe of fin, you 
 are bound over to that place of torment, and may, if faith 
 be not intirely banifhed, fee the fmoke of the fiery furnace 
 rifing direflly before you, and hear the defpairing cries and 
 lamentations of the damned. Let thele thoughts be ever 
 prefent with you, that a good intention or a(5tion may 
 never offer itfelf to your will, without heaven to fweeten, 
 nor a bad one, without hell to embitter, it to you. 
 
 But, that you may watch over yourfeif with the greatet 
 care and circumfpeciion, give me leave to lay before you 
 fome of the moll prevailing motives to vigilance, befides 
 this already mentioned. 
 
 The firft may be drawn from the great advantage you 
 have in being at prefent in a pofture of defence, in being 
 at liberty to handle your weapons, and having firm 
 ground to Hand upon. To lofe this ground, would be 
 
 Che 
 
 1 
 
176 The Weak jlmdd he watchful, 
 
 the mofl: dangerous thing could happen to you ; becauffe 
 poffibly enough you might never be able to recover it 
 again. It is much eafier to (land againft your enemy, 
 now you arc up, than it will be to rife upon him, wheii 
 he has you down. Confider therefore the great import- 
 ance of your advantage, and labour to preferve it; for 
 perhaps it is your only opportunity, your laft flake for 
 falvation. Prudence, not repentance, becomes the wife 
 man, fays Epicharmus, 
 
 The next motive to vigilance, is the condition into 
 which you muft fink, fhould you chance to fall -, and that 
 indeed is dangerous and frightful. To have all your Jong 
 courfe of care, and piety, and virtue ; or all your anxie- 
 ties and ftruggles in the work of repentance, loft ; to re- 
 turn to the foul vomit of your former fins ; to renew the 
 guilt of all thofe crimes you had repented of •, to fet all 
 your wounds a bleeding again ; to fet all your old ulcers 
 and iflTues of corruption a running ; to fee the height 
 from which you have fallen ; to gnafli your teeth in 
 horror, and almoft defpair of ever rifing again ; to have 
 all your former helps to a good life, or motives to repent- 
 ance, deftroyed, or rendered much weaker than they 
 were, and no new ones to relieve you ; to have no re- 
 fourfe nor refuge within yourfelf, and far lefs hopes that 
 God will pity, forgive, or aflift you, after fo bafely de- 
 ferring him ; or, even if he Ihould, to have the whole 
 work of falvation, you had been fo long labouring for, 
 demoliflied, and all to begin again, under great additi- 
 onal diffabilitics, is one of the moft (hocking and allarm- 
 ing thoughts, that can poffibly feize the imagination of 
 man. Look down into this dreadful gulph, and tell us, 
 whether any thing can prevail on you to plunge yourfelf 
 headlong into it. You know, that, if perfeverance be 
 wanting, obedience lofes its reward ; repentance, all its 
 tears ; mortification, all its feverities ; faith, all its glori- 
 ous profpe<5t:s ; and hope itfelf is on the point of expiring. 
 How are you allarmed, when you confider, that the 
 righteoufnefs of the righteous fhall not deliver him in the 
 day of his tranfgrejfton ; and that, if you fall, the unclean 
 fprit, that had been driven out of you, fhall return with 
 
 feven 
 
i'he Weak Jhould be 'watchful » lyj 
 
 fwen other devils, to make your laji ft ate worfe than the 
 Jirft. A baffled repentance is apt to leave behind it a 
 ftupid mind, and an infenfible confcience. Remember 
 Z,(7/*s wife, who, upon looking back on the city of fin, 
 was hardened into a pillar of fait. 
 
 The third motive to watchfulnefs, I fhall mention, is 
 drawn from the uncertainty of the time, ifi which it will 
 pleafe God to call for you. As that time fteals upon you 
 like a thief in the nighty and you know neither the day nor 
 the hour of your Mafter*s comings you ought to watch in- 
 ceflantly •, for Ihould he find you off your guard, or 
 fallen afleep, or parlying with the enemy, you are un- 
 done for ever. Death, confidered merely as a natural 
 confequence and termination of life, ought not to be 
 dreaded. But when we regard it as the end of all trial, 
 ahd the commencement of an unchangeable ftate, in 
 which we fhall enjoy the greateft happinefs, or fuffer the 
 greateft mifery, for ever, no fubjed can ferve better to 
 awaken our refleflions. But, if you confider that the 
 time of its arrival is altogether uncertain, and that altho^ 
 you may live many years, yet you may die to-morrow ; 
 nay, in a few hours or minutes, have your fate fixed for 
 ever, you muft indeed be the moft thoiightlefs of men, if 
 you do not fland upon yOur guard, and do all you can 
 to hold yourfelf in a readinefs. When this reverfer of all 
 things, this terror of nature, this fixer of your doom, is 
 going his rounds, and every moment feizing in your 
 fight, perhaps at your very fide, this young and hail, as 
 Well as that aged and fickly acquaintance, is it pofilble 
 you can fit unconcerned all the time, as if you alone was 
 Out of his reach, or no way interefted in the change he 
 threathens you with ? Can you look on death as the 
 greatefl: of all terrors, and yet take no religious ailarms 
 from thence ? It is true there are thofe, who, living like 
 beafts, entertain the fame dread of death that beafts do, 
 and confider it only as an horrid fit of pain, which fpoils 
 eating, and drinking, and other animal amufements of 
 the hke nature But you, who are a Chriftian, cannot be 
 of this number, and therefore muil carry your allarms 
 
 Vol. jll. N about 
 
1 7 S ^he Weak Jlmdd be 'watchful, 
 
 about death to fomewhat of infinitely greater confequence 
 than dying icfelf. 
 
 Befide the motives to vigilance, there are many other 
 powerful props to fupport him, who -ftandeth, and pre- 
 vent his falling \ but he himfelf muft apply them all. 
 
 The greateft feeming difficulty in the way of virtuous 
 perfeverance is, that, fince the corruption of our nature, 
 we are to work out our reformation in a crowd of tempta- 
 tions, to cleanfe ourfelves in the midft of filth. But from 
 this very confideration, a great help may be drawn for 
 perfeverance ♦, for what can more effeflually keep you on 
 your guard, than to find yourfelf furrounded with enemies 
 and fnares ? And will not a thorough allarm make you 
 fafer, though in the midft of many dangers, that you 
 would be, were there few, and you at the lame time care- 
 lefs and fecure ? You often fee people ftumbling and fall- 
 ing, through carelefifnefs, upon an even road, while others, 
 who walk circumlpe6lly, pafs fafely over the rougheft. 
 But even fin itfelf may become its own cure in a fenfible 
 mind •, for he who is not paft feeling, nor deprived of 
 his memory, may eafily arm himfelf with reflexions on 
 the foulnefs and bitternefs of fin, already tailed, againft 
 enticements to new a6ls of fin. The world and the fiefh, 
 it is true, tempt you; but have you not, after liftening to 
 their promifes, found them followed with nothing but 
 vanity and vexation of fpirit ? And having fo woeful an 
 experience for your monitor, can you be ftupid enough 
 to believe them again ? Have you no indignation to 
 incenfe you againll yourfelf, for fo many fliameful 
 falls ? Nor no refolution to arm you againft the like 
 miferable inftances of folly and weaknefs, for the time to 
 come ^ 
 
 But to give you a flifficient command over yourfelf, 
 that you may not every moment be in danger of feeing 
 ^yourfelf bound, Jike a Have, by fome vicious paflion or habit, 
 and carried from your intended courfe of virtue, or thrown 
 headlong from the height you have already attained to, 
 you muft remember to be temperate in all things ; you 
 muft learn to think with contempt of ficfiil pleallires, of 
 
 tem- 
 
The Weak J}:oidd be watchful. 179 
 
 temporal poITefiions, of the pomps and vanities you re- 
 nounced in baptilm. Particularly you will reap infinite 
 advantage from moderation in eating and drinking; the 
 rule of which is, to fupply your body only with fo much 
 of each as is neceffary for your health. You muft have 
 been very inobfervant about yourfelf, if you have not 
 found, that you are always more addi(5led to every fort of 
 fielhly defire and luft, after a full meal, accompanied 
 with a confiderable quantity of ftrong drink, than when 
 you have contented yourfelf with barely fatisfying the 
 cravings of nature. Pride, anger, and incontinence, are 
 the diltingui filing vices of the high fed. Your lufts will 
 be fure to follow you, like dogs, as long a you feed 
 them. Your foul is, by your religion, engaged in a war 
 with your flefh. Knowing this, will you put weapons 
 into the hand of your enemy ? Will you fupply his gari- 
 fon with provifions ? A cool head, and obedient paffions, 
 are abfolutely neceflary to perfeverance in virtue ; and 
 you cannot but be fenfible, how much intemperance 
 clouds the underftanding, and inflames the heart. Un- 
 natural appetite, like a child, if often denied, will forget 
 to crave •, and if you have nothing but your natural appe-^ 
 tites to deal with, you have the lels reafon to apprehend a 
 fall; for although they too are corrupt, yet they are weak, 
 and eafily fubdued. 
 
 But further : As, in order to a final vicflory over your 
 corruptions, without which you can never be fafe, it will 
 be neceflary, not only to avoid all provocatives to vice, 
 but alfo to arm yourfelf with the weapons of a more ex- 
 alted virtue, you will find it highly ufeful to you, to 
 deny yourfelf on fome occafions, even the innocent indul- 
 gence of your defires, particularly by fading, if your 
 conftitution will bear it. By temperance you only fight 
 your enemy upon the confines between you and him, 
 and are for the moft part on the defenfive ; but by fading 
 you make an adlual attack upon him, and carry the war 
 into his territories, into his very camp. Temperance may 
 moderate, but falling will mortify^ your inordinate af- 
 feolions. To abftain from fenfual gratificatigns is the belt 
 
 N 2 pre- 
 
i8o The Weak Jl:ouId he watchful. 
 
 preparative to the tailing of fpiritual pleafures, and the 
 enjoyment of God. In abftinence, the foul being difin- 
 tanglcd from flefiily appetites, and fliut in from outward 
 objeds, as if lightened of an heavy burden, finds itfelf 
 naturally difpofed to rife, on the wings of devotion and 
 divine love, to the blefled and glorious fountain of true 
 enjoyment. Although this Chriftian duty may feem 
 fomewhat irkfome to you, yet as it may be necefiary to 
 your fafety in a thorough change of life, you cannot in 
 prudence nt>gle(fl it. It is faid of the ferpent, that, when 
 it hath renewed its fkin, it fqueezes through fome narrow 
 pafTage, and rubs off" the old one. If you are really be- 
 come a new creature, you will think it no great hardfhip 
 to wear off" the old man^ who ftill fticks to you, and 
 may feduce you, in the feverities of felf-denial -, which, 
 it perfevered in, will in a little time turn to pleafures of a 
 moft fweet and engaging relifli. 
 
 Befides, the performance of this duty will give prodi- 
 gious alacrity and force to thofe meditations, by which, 
 in order further to prevent your falling from God, it will 
 be neceflary for you to enter deep into your own breaft, 
 that you may there, by an often-repeated, and long*con- 
 tinued, and clofe examination of yourfelf, find out what 
 to guard againft, and on what ill-fortified quarter to 
 place your moll watchful centinals, as well as your mofl 
 powerful engines of defence. Here, in your own hearty 
 is the fountain of all your corruptions, the nefl of all your 
 enemies, the proper objects of all your apprehenfions, 
 the important field, where the great battle is to be fought, 
 in which your eternal fate is to be decided. 
 
 Having thus taken the neceflfary meafures within your- 
 felf, it will be then time to call in other allies to your 
 afTillance. Then fly, when you are hunted by the enemy 
 of your foul, to the company of good men ; and enter 
 with them into ferious difcourfe, about your temptations 
 and dangers; call on then'i for advice and help; lay your- 
 felf under a rule to confefs, not only your v/eaknefTes, but 
 your adual fins, to fome perfon, whom you fland mod 
 vi .Tvve of for his good life, and who, by his flvill in reli- 
 . . . gion 
 
The Weak fiould he u^atchfid. 1 8 1 
 
 gion, may help to roufe, alarm, or encourage, you in 
 the race that is fet before you. If you do this, you will 
 find your flagging refolutions kindling, your dying piety 
 reviving, and a furprifing reinforcemtnc of vigour, new- 
 edging and new-pointing all the powers of your foul. 
 Such is the balfam that flows from the tongue of a reli- 
 gious and faithful friend. We And in the holy Scriptures, 
 that this pra6li.ce of confefllng their fins one to another, 
 and afl^ing the prayers of their pious neighbours, was 
 very icommon in the apoftolical times. Sc. James even 
 commands it as a duty •, and, to encourage us to it, tells 
 .us, in the fame verfe, that the effectual fervent prayer cf 
 a righteous man prevaileth much. 
 
 Lafl:ly, as you will find nothing but enemies within 
 yourlelf, and perpetual caufes of alarm from evt-ry thing 
 about you, which neither you, nor all the alTiftance maa 
 can lend you, will be able to fubdue, or guard you fuffi- 
 ciently againfb, you muft caft your eyes up to God, and 
 call him into your heart, duly prepared for his reception, 
 with all the anxiety and vehemence of a foul, that fees 
 it is to be utterly undone without his afliftance. 2~ou 
 can do 7iothi>tg of your f elf -y but you 7nay do all things in 
 bim, who Jlrengtheneth you, and 'ijohofe grace is fufficient 
 for you. And lefl: you fhould unhappily mils the occafion 
 of receiving the divine fuccours, you fliould leek them 
 diligently in the ordinances of God, in his houfe, and at 
 his table, whither you ought conflantly to repair for 
 new fupplies. Now, if God vouchfafe you his affiftance 
 (which on fuch an application he is too gracious to refufe), 
 and you take proper care to improve and apply the helps 
 he lends you, you may be affured the happy work is 
 done, and you ftoall never greatly fall -, you fhall Jiand 
 arrayed in the zvhole armour of God \ you fhall 'watch \ 
 you fhall fl and fafi in the faith ; you foall quit ycurfelf like 
 a raan., and fhall be Jlrong in the power of the Lord, and 
 in his might. Ton fDall endure unto the end, and befaved-^ 
 you fliall refifi all temptations ; ayid when yon hav^ bezn 
 fufficienly tried, you pall receive the crown of life, which 
 the Lord bath fromifed to them that loze him. 
 
 N 3 Who 
 
1 82 ^he WeakJJmdd be watchful 
 
 Who folds his hands, when the enemy is laying at 
 hini? Who deeps, when the trumpet founds to battle? 
 Who feafls, or dances to foft mufic, or dallies with his 
 pleafure, when his adverfaries are fhouting for the charge ? 
 Who numbers on the deceitful lap of Delilah, when the 
 Philijlines are upon him ? O that the battles of religion 
 and heaven againft fin and damnation were fought with 
 that engagement of heart and fpirit, with that animofity 
 and fire, which are fhewn ip our wars about worldly 
 trifles! Then fhould we make glorious triumphs, and 
 reap immortal crowns. 
 
 But alas ! we either bring not our hearts with us to 
 this fpiritual warfare, or find them there among the fore- 
 moft and moll dangerous of our enemies. By what ftra- 
 tagem (hall we win them to our party ? Is this fo hard a 
 matter ? Can the affedions of our hearts be fet in oppofi- 
 tion to God, to heaven, and our greateft good .? Yes ; in 
 the mod obftinate oppofition ; but net, indeed, till reli- 
 gion and reafon have loft their hold upon our minds ; for 
 otherwife, a man could never become fo literally and 
 defperately his own enemy, could never lufFer fo total a 
 perverfion of mind, and depravity of nature, as to place 
 his delight and joy in the infallible and known means of 
 his own deftru<5lion. 
 
 O wretched, wretched man ! could he know himfelf, 
 what a wonder, what a monfter, would he appear in 
 his own eyes! How would it fhock him, to find him- 
 felf forfaking God, and leaning on earthly fupporters, 
 which have either no {Irength, or no being, but what his 
 own blind imagination lends them ! falling into fnares 
 laid for himfelf by his own hands ! weltering in mifery, 
 whe^re he hoped to wallow in pleafure ! entering the lifts 
 for a kingdom, but fhamefully fubmitting in the firft en- 
 counter! ftarting for a crown, but ftumbling and falling 
 at every ftep ! and, with heaven and hell placed full in his 
 fight, with reafon to dired him, and religion to aflift 
 l^im •, yet, as it were with open eyes, led downward to 
 eternal mifcry ! Bu? he is hid trora himfelf, an6feeingy h^ 
 cannot fee. 
 
^he Weak fiouU be watchful. 183 
 
 » 
 
 May God of his infinite mercy open our eyes. May 
 he give us ftrength to ftand our ground, that we lole 
 not thofe things which we have wrought j but that wc 
 may receive the full reward of thofe who continue to 
 the laft in his goodnefs, through the mediation of Chrift 
 our Saviour, and the afliftance of our ever blefled Com- 
 forter and Helper -, to whom, with thee, O merciful 
 Father, be all might, majefty, and dominion, now and 
 for evermore. Amen. 
 
 N 4 D I S- 
 
{ |S4] 
 
 DISCOURSE XI. 
 
 Man his ovyn Enemy. 
 
 G A L. V. I 7. 
 
 'H'he Flejlo lufleth cgainji the Spirit^ and the Spirit 
 againjl the Flejh': And theje are coJitrary one to 
 the other. 
 
 ■^HIS doflrine isthe fame with that of the Apoflle, 
 in the feventh and eighth chapters of his epiftle to 
 the Romans \ wherein he fpeaks of one law in his 
 fiejh or members^ warring againji another law of bis mind^ 
 and bringing him into captivity to the law of Jin ^ affirming 
 that the carnal mind is enmity againft God. Nothing in, 
 all the Scriptures feems fo flrange to deifts and Hbertines, 
 as this, which reprefents the one part of our nature as fet 
 in dire<5t oppontion to the other, even in regard to duty 
 and virtue, the rules and motives of which, fay they, are 
 founded on, and arife out of, human nature, in fuch a 
 manner, that a man, in order to be good, hath nothing elfe 
 to do, but to follow his own nature. But if the didates 
 of nature are op[5ofite, hov/ can they be all right, or al| 
 obeyed ? Yet, that they are oppofite, the experience of 
 every thinking man is fufficient to teach him ; for he can 
 never furely deny, that, on many important occafions, he 
 finds one part of bis nature hurrying him to certain aclions, 
 v/hile another labours to withold him. If this is not fuf- 
 ficient 
 
Alcin his own Enemy. 185 
 
 Hclent to convince the libertine and natural man, that all 
 is not uniform within him, let him confult the heathen phi? 
 Jofophers, whom he admires, and, to icrve a turn, prefers 
 to Chrift and his Apoftles, and they perhaps will do it. 
 Nothing is more remarkable in their writings, than re- 
 peated precepts for fubduing the appetites and pafTions by 
 reafon-, nor in their a(5tions, than inch mortifications ap- 
 plied to that purpofe, as no hermit need be ^fhamcd of. 
 Had they been fupported in this attempt by a tolerable 
 fcheme of Religion, they could hardly have failed of fuc- 
 cefs ; bqt vain is the endeavour to remedy^irregularities in 
 pra(flice by abfurdities in principle,. 
 
 One of the beft methods propofed by philofophy for 
 fubdulng the palTions, is to fet them at variance among 
 themfelves, fo as to make one of them a fpy and check 
 ppon the other. Thus, fear may be oppoied to anger, 
 defire to floath, and jealoufy to love. Jnjlotle, Ipeaking 
 of this expedient, fays, '* The affeflions, if one knows 
 *' how to manage them with addrefs, may be employed 
 " as weapons againft each other." But Seneca fays, 
 " This might be true, if we could, take them up and lay 
 ** them down at our pleafure, as we do warlike inftru- 
 *' ments i butthele arms will neither obey direftions, nor 
 " wait for the word of command -, but make war of them- 
 *' felves, being as bad fervants, as they are mafters. That 
 " readinefs and a^^ivicy, lays he, is to be approved, which 
 '' goes where it is defired, and no farther -, which may be 
 *' turned from its courfe, and trained to diredions. We 
 *' know our nerves are diftempcred, when they move in 
 ^' fpite of our wills. He is cither an old man, or of an 
 .*' infirm conftitution, who runs, when he intends to 
 " walk. In hke manner we efteem thofe the ftrongeft 
 "and foundefl motions of the mind, which proceed in 
 *' obedience to our will, and are not carried on as it v^ ere 
 " by a will of their own." 
 
 It was impofiible for mere philpfophers to Ihew a 
 better talent lor invention than the firft, or at reafoning, 
 than the latter hath done on this occafion. Thus it is how- 
 ever, that philofophy, groping in the dark, runs counter, 
 apd refutes herfey^. This expedient muft indeed be rather 
 
 prejudicial 
 
iS6 Mdn his cwn Enemy. 
 
 prejudicial than ufefiil to mere philofophy, which hath not, 
 in herldlf, fufBcient ftrength to employ the paffions in her 
 fervice; for fhe cannot govern them. Shemufl: therefore 
 labour totally to ftifle and fupprefs them. But Chriftiani- 
 ty, more agreeable to our nature, hath, to admirable pur- 
 pofe, built its morality on a fcheme not unlike that of 
 Arijiotle. Our Religion hath placed before defire, fear, 
 and hope, the ftrongeft of our pafTions, fuch objedls as we 
 can never be too much affefted with. Thefe palTions, 
 thus exalted by faith above all worldly and feducing ob- 
 jeds, in refpedt to which nothing but change and excefs 
 arc to be looked for, become infinitely helpful in bridling 
 and fubduing all our other affeftions and appetites. He 
 who hath God to love, heaven to hope for, hell to fear, 
 can hardly think any thing in this world worth purfuing, 
 that may divert him from objects fo infinitely great and 
 excellent. 
 
 Nothing more need be faid to fhew, that there is in 
 man, left to his own nature, a kind of moral war between 
 his reafon and paffions, to which the compound nature of 
 bis being, though it is not the caufe, hath given the oc- 
 cafion. The body of man, like the greater world, is made 
 up of ingredients, or elements, direftly contrary in their 
 qualities one to another. In the original frame of his 
 nature, thefe contrarities were fo tempered, and bound to- 
 gether by fuch a tie, as produced at once an wholfome 
 harmony and necelTary variety ; but this tie hath fince re- 
 ceived fuch a fhock from fm, as fufifers the feveral ingre- 
 dients to return to their natural oppofition, and at laft dif- 
 folve the body. 
 
 Between the foul and body of a man there is alfo, by 
 their very nature, a wide diverfity, if not alike oppofition. 
 At firft the body, with its appetites and paffions, was 
 made abfolutely fubjecb to the foul, from whence refulted 
 wifdom and virtue. But this fubje<flion hath, by the cor- 
 ruption of human nature, been unhappily changed into 
 rebellion -, fo that now the fpiritual and carnal part of man, 
 draw different ways, according to their different natures, 
 this pulling to vic;e, that to virtue. Hence it comes, tha$ 
 
 in 
 
Man his own "Enemy. 187 
 
 in man (that is, in his flelh) dwelleth no good thing \ for to 
 will is prefent with him, but bow to -perform that which 
 is good, he findeth not. He delights in the law of God af- 
 ter the inward man, but fees ac the fame time a law in bis 
 members, warring againji the law of his mind, and bring- 
 ing him into captivity to the law of fin. 
 
 This conteft between reafon and his palTions is, in the 
 bcft man, who hves according to mere nature, exceeding- 
 ly fliarp ; and, for wane of better aids than he can furnilTi 
 himfelf with, his reafon is foon forced to quit the field, 
 and fubmit to fome prevaihng fcheme of vice, prefcribccl 
 to him by the fiefh, or the world ; after which, it only 
 ferves to conceal and cater for his vices. 
 
 But in the Chriftian, reafon being fupported with flrong 
 hopes and fears, as to futurity, with lively apprehenfions 
 of God's continual prefence and infpeclion, and wnth the 
 divine Spirit, is enabled to carry on the war againft his 
 pafTions with better hope of fuccefs. Hence the conteft 
 becomes more equal, and confequently more fierce and 
 lading. His f^efh contends for prefent, worldly, and fen- 
 fible, enjoyments ; the fpirit for good things, unfeen, and 
 future. His flefh recommends its choice by the natural 
 fweetnefs and certainty "of the gratification it propofes ; 
 the fpirit urges the purity and eternity of that happinefs, 
 on which it labours to fix his attention, ^be Spirit fear ch- 
 eth ei^en the hidden things of God ; nor is he lefs perfeflly 
 acquainted with thofe of man, for he is the Spirit of wif- 
 dom, underjlanding, and counfel, and therefore is able to 
 guide us into all truth. Now his compafTion and tender- 
 nefs for us are as great as his wifdom, and it is therefore 
 he is called our comforter. Under the diredlion of fuch a 
 guide, we can never go aftray. 
 
 But our ungoverned affeftions are irregular and blind, 
 and therefore furely, of all ^things, the moft unqualified 
 either to direft or fupport us. While we are under their 
 influence, we are exadly in the flate of one who is drunk,' 
 and knows not how to ftand or walk. Any violent paft 
 fion difturbs the brain in the fame manner as ftrong 
 liquor. ^* There is, fays St. Chryfojiom, a drunkennefs 
 ^^ without \vinej other wife the prophet had never faid. 
 
I S 8 Man his own Enemy, 
 
 ** Woe he to thofe who are dnink, hut not with wine ; nor 
 *'■ St. Paul, Be?iot drunk with wine, wherein is excejs\ in- 
 " timating, that there are other things which intoxicate. 
 *' There is a drunkennels in anger, in concupifcence, in 
 *' covetoufnefs, in vain-glory, and in other affcdions ; 
 " for drunkennefs is nothing elfe, but a departure from 
 .'* right reafon, and a deprivation of underftanding. As 
 *' he who hath drank much, is lavifh of rude words, and 
 *' fees one thing for another •, fo a perfon under the vio- 
 " lence of any paffion fpeaks, hke a fool, unintelligibly, 
 •' rudely, and with a ftrange mixture of filly laughter. 
 " His eyes miftake their mod accuflomed objefts, and 
 " are often blind to things the moft vifible. He, parti- 
 ** cularly, who is angry, is unqueftionably drunk •, for his 
 " voice is hoarfe, his eyes are bloodfhcd and diftorted, his 
 *' underftanding is benighted, his tongue faulters, his ears 
 " mifreprefent what he hears." 
 
 That which puts a man in fuch a condition, is furely 
 not fit to be trufted with the dircftion or government of 
 his adions ; for in this ftate of madnefs, there is no folly 
 nor crime, which he is not ready to run headlong into. 
 . While our corrupt paffions thus biafs and pervert our 
 underftandings, they, at the fame time, as unhappily de- 
 prave our will, difpofing it to the fouleft intentions, and 
 the vilefl actions. All the bl^ck and horrible crimes, 
 which we come to the knowlege of, by our own experi- 
 ence, or hiftory, fpring intirely from lawlefs and licentious 
 paflions. Our defires being fitted by nature to an infinite 
 object, are rendered, in refpeft to all other objefls, bound- 
 lefs and infatiable. Hence it is, that being turned afide 
 from that only objeft, that could fatisfy them, they, in 
 vain, feek for contentment from earthly things. Luxu- 
 rious tables, delicious wines, (lately houfes, foft beds, 
 mufick, lewd women, riches, honour, and power, are 
 purfued v/ith an eagernefs, and fury, that overturn every 
 thing in their way ; treading under-foot the laws of God 
 and man, burning cities, v/afting kingdoms, and filling 
 the world with fraud and falfe politics ; widi rapes, rob- 
 beries, murders, malTacres, and ruinous wars. When 
 one object of this fo« proves unfatisfadory, another is 
 
 fought 
 
Man his oivn Enemy, 1 8p 
 
 fought for, coft what it will to confcience^ and that 
 proving as empty and defeftive, the whole circle of fen- 
 fuality is romaged, but to no purpofe : all things under 
 the fun are not able to fausfy the immortal foul. From 
 whence come wars and fightings among you ? fays St. James. 
 Come they not hence^ even of your lufts^ that war in your 
 members ? Te luji^ and have not ; ye kill and defire to have^ 
 and cannot obtain. Ye fight and war ; ye ajk^ and receive 
 not^ becaufe ye afk amifs, to confume it upon your lufls. !"> 
 adulterers, and adulterejfes, biow ye not, that the ffiend- 
 JJjip of the world is enmity with God ? 
 
 The law was delivered from Mount Sinai., not with the 
 found of fymbals, pfalteries, and other the like inftru- 
 ments of peaceful mufic, ufed in religious fer vices, bur 
 with the found of a trumpet, to fignify the fierce and per- 
 petual war between the commandments ot God, and the 
 lufls of mankind. He who profefies himfelf the fervanc 
 of God, engages in this warfare againft the enemies of 
 God and his own foul. Now this is a war of the greateft: 
 confequence ; for in this we fight not for riches, nor ho- 
 nours, or worldly power •, but for our very fouls, while all 
 the glories of heaven, and ail the horrible torments of hell, 
 are at ftake ; a war truly terrible ! a war of a mod danger- 
 ous and fingular nature! In other battles, he who attacks 
 is a different perfon from him who defends -, but in this, I 
 am engaged againft myfelf; I, the inward man, againft 
 me the outward. How, therefore, fhall I guard againfl 
 myfelf, and deliver myfelf from myfelf? It is extremely 
 difficult for the foul to obtain the vidory in this cafe, be- 
 caufe it fights againft an enemy it loves. No man ever 
 hateth his own fiefh, but nourifheth and cherifheth it. If 
 therefore, it be difficult to conquer an enemy we hate ; 
 what muft it be to fubdue that enemy, whom we find a 
 pleafure in fubmitting to, and who can, with the greateft 
 cafe, prevail on us to betray ourfelves ? In every other 
 warfare the combatants fometimes fcparate, lay by their 
 weapons, and take breath ; but in this there is not a mo- 
 ment's refpite, the battle is fierce and continual, and the 
 enemies can never be parted but by death. Other enemies 
 pitch their tents apart, . and are divided by walls and 
 
 ramparts p 
 
190 Mafi his own Enemy. 
 
 ramparts *, thefe encamp on the fame fpot, and therefore 
 can never agree upon a minute's truce. 
 
 As, in the prefenc frame of our nature, the foul and body 
 are clofely bound together, and united into one perfon ; 
 and as our afFedions and paffions proceed intirely from 
 the body i fo it always happens, that they rife in vehemence, 
 as that does in vigour, and abate in proportion as the blood 
 grows cool and languid. This is found by experience to 
 be true of them all, excepting fear and modefty, which 
 follow in this refpe<5t a rule exaAly oppofite to the reft* 
 But as thefe two affe6lions are moft eafily engaged on the 
 fide of religion and virtue, no method can be thought of 
 fo helpful to that beft of caufes, as that which (hall 
 ftrengthen thefe, and at the fame time humble and reduce 
 the others ; I mean temperance and mortification. 
 
 To this end, in well-difpofed natures, a ftrifl and regu- 
 lar temperance will be fufRcicnt. 
 
 " He, fays Epioletus, who at a feaft behaves himfelf 
 '* according to the rules of moderation and modefty, is a 
 " gueft for the gods.'* He did not mean, that this only 
 virtue could qualify a perfon, otherwife vicious, for the . 
 company of celeftial beings •, but that the virtue of tem- 
 perance, being produftive of all the reft, muft render 
 him who is adorned with it wholly virtuous. Be that as 
 it will, t muft take the liberty to fay, no one is a fit gueft 
 for the Lord's table, who does not fliew himfelf moderate 
 and temperate at his own. We are unfpeakably happy, 
 did we obferve it, in this, that thofe temptations, which, ■ 
 in the natural order of things, come foremoft, are always 
 the weakeft. Temptations to intemperance may be eafily 
 refifted j for the mere pleafures of the palate, when na- 
 ture is fatisfied, are very inconfiderable. But if we once 
 yield to intemperance, it is then a ta{k of no fmall diffi- 
 culty to bridle thofe lufts and paffions, that are fed by it. 
 This, however, is confidered only by a few, who, of all 
 men, ftand leaft in need of remarking it -, I mean thofe, 
 whofe appetites are moderate, and paffions manageable. 
 In thefe, the principles of Chriftianity require no other af- 
 fiftance, than fuch as may keep the paffions within the 
 bounds of moderation, and render them barely amendable. 
 
 But 
 
Man his civn Enem\\ rpi 
 
 But in perfons whofe pafTions arc naturally more violent, 
 there is a neceffity for the Teverer meafures of fading, and 
 other a£ts of felf-denial. There are two ways of prefer ving 
 and promoting the virtue of a Chrillian, either by 
 ftrengthening the chriftian principles, which, humanly 
 fpeaking, is to be efFcded by reading the word of God, 
 and by meditation •, or by weakening the principles of vice, 
 which is the work of temperance in a few, and of mortiti- 
 " cation in the reft of mankind. It temperance alone can 
 fo reduce the pafTions to reafon, that they may be won 
 over by that and faith to Chriftianity, the work is done in 
 the moft eftedual manner, by a revolt of the enemies forces. 
 But when this intention cannot be accompliflied, they mutt 
 be fubdued by mortification, and thus tidier converted, 
 or conquered. 
 
 As to temperance, it is of fo great ufe to virtue, that 
 the worft religion, with it, can do more than the bed, 
 v/ithout it. Nicolaits^ fpeaking of a Scythian r\2.\\on^ that 
 lived intirely on milk, fays, " None of them was ever 
 *' known to be moved with envy, hatred, or feai." tde 
 fays alfo, of the andent Iberians, " That when they 
 *' came to full growth, a girdle was given to each of them, 
 " of a very moderate length, which, if it ever grew too 
 " fhort for the wearer, he was publicly expofed as an in- 
 *' famous perfon." This people was alio remarkable 
 among their neighbours for the praftice of every virtue. 
 The Americans, and inner Africans, who are wholly ig- 
 norant of the gluttony and luxury o^ Europe, are alfo ut3:er 
 ftrangers to the horrible vices of the Europeans. 
 
 Libertines think a religion that is unable to reflrain a 
 luxurious glutton from pride, lutl, and anger, cannot be 
 the true Religion, although they might, v/ith as much 
 reafon, fay, water is not water, becaufe a fmall quantity 
 of it cannot extinguilh a fire, into which great quantities 
 of oil or fulphur are perpetually thrown. Without any 
 regard to this, they are continually twitting us v>'ith the 
 morality of the Americans. But were tliey and we to ex- 
 change religions, we fhould be infinitely a worfe, and they 
 incomparably a better people, than uhey are. I'he reli- 
 gion of thofe people, i;- almolt wholly ca'ciilared to fpoil 
 
 ineir 
 
392 Man his own E?iemy. 
 
 their morality, ours to render us highly virtuous. Yet 
 fuch is the force of temperance, that it makes even the 
 worfhipers of the devil chafte, fober, and honeft ; fuch is 
 the effecft of luxury, that it turns the worfhipers of the 
 true God into the fervants of the devil. 
 
 Moderation in diet, keeps the head clear, the fpirits 
 calm, the pafllons manageable, confirms health, and pro- 
 longs life •, among all which, it is hard to flngle out that' 
 one, which conduces moft to a virtuous and happy dif- 
 charge of duty. There is no other man, but he who 
 practices this mother virtue, that is, in any fenfe, mafter 
 of himfelf. *' I do infift, ^^.y^ Agapetus to Jujliman, that 
 *' you are truly a king, becaufe, being adorned with the 
 " crown of temperance, and cloathed with the royal robe 
 " of juftice, you are able to rule and moderate your plea- 
 *^' fures. Death follows every other fort of power ; but 
 '* this extends to all eternity. All other principalities find 
 " an end in the prefent world, but this delivers front 
 " eternal punifhment. The king is lord of all men, and, 
 *' in refpeft to God, the fellow-fervant of all men ♦, but 
 *' he is then more efpecially ftiled lord, when he is able to' 
 *' lord it over himfelf, and is not enflaved to foolilh 
 *' pleafures ; when fupported with the alliance of reafori 
 " and religion, which maintain an abfolute dominion 
 *' over the irregular affeftions, he fubdues his otherwife 
 *' all-conquering defires with the whole armour of tem- 
 *' perance." 
 
 He who governs his appetites by the rules of temper- 
 ance, as he hath all manner of advantages over the luxuri* 
 ous, in refpeft to virtue, fo hath he this alfo in relation to 
 pleafure; that whereas the moft relilhing delicacies are 
 hardly tafted by him, who treats his palate with nothing 
 eife, fo the plaineft and moft infipid food feems high- 
 feafoned to hmi, who is accuftomed to nothing more de- 
 licious, and who ftays to be hungry before he eats. The 
 ^ull foulloatheth an hony-comhy but to the hungry foul every 
 titter thing is fiveet To fare pleafantly, and fumptuoufly, 
 are two different things *, for we fee one perfon feeding 
 deliciouHy on the pooreft diet, while the ftomach of ano- 
 llhtr turns at the r;cheft dainuies. Intemperance turns the 
 
 fweeteft 
 
Man his own Enemy. 193 
 
 fweeteft morfels of the luxurious into filth and poifon -, but 
 felf-denial is that ftony rock, out of which God fed his 
 people with honey. 
 
 How miferabie, and yet how ridiculous, a thing it is, 
 that he, who ft'udies nothing but his pleafures, and facri- 
 fices his foul to them, fhould bealmoft wholly difappoint- 
 ed of his hopes. The weakncfs of our nature will not per- 
 mit us to enjoy that excefs, which its depravity will not 
 fuffer us to (lop fliort of. God hath fo made us, that one 
 and the fame method is necelTary to the improving our plea- 
 fures here to the height, and infuring our happinefs here- 
 after, that is, temperance, which confifts in a due medi- 
 um between the extremes of riot and aufterity. If idlured 
 by appetite, we rife above it, we inflame our pafllons be- 
 yond a pofTibility of being governed, and are difappoint- 
 ed of pleafure now, and happinefs for ever ; if compelled 
 by the natural fierccnefs of our paffions to ufe violence, 
 and curb theni by mortification, we muft be content, I 
 own, to want a great part of the innocent comforts, which 
 the temperate man enjoys in this world -, but then, we 
 provide for our happinefs in that which is to come. 
 
 We are fo miferably blinded by the cuftoms of the 
 world, that we neither fee things in their proper lights, nor 
 are able to trace them to their immediate and manifeft 
 caufcs. Hence it is that we fo often foolifhly exprefs our 
 wonder at the horrible vices of the great, not confidering, 
 that it is impoffible, men fo foftened by eafe, fo fteeped 
 in luxury, fo pampered with riot, fhould not be abfolute 
 flaves to their appetites and lufts, and, through them, to 
 every enormity the devil himfelf could pradice, were he 
 in their places. What are their fortunes, their fludies, 
 their time, applied to, but to excefs and pleafure ? Con- 
 fider a little, what is the grand end of that prodigious 
 commerce which extends itfelf to all the corners of the 
 world. Is it not to fupply the wealthy with articles of 
 luxury? The beafts of burden by land, and the (hips by 
 fea, have little elfe to do, than to furnilh materials for 
 their houfes, their tables, their apparel. View them in 
 their palaces, fplendidly furnifhcd ; in their cloathes, 
 gorgeoufly laced and brocaded ; and at their tables, load- 
 VoL. II. O ed 
 
IP4 ^^^^ ^^'^ ^^'^ Enemy. 
 
 ed with pampering food, and inBaming wines: See them 
 Carried Ibmetimcs by beads, fometimas by men, from one 
 wanton entertainment to another, courted to vice, and 
 flattered to folly, and you will quickly perceive, that pride, 
 lull, and impotence of will, muft reign abfolutely over 
 their hearts. And you know, where thefe have taken up 
 their abode, deceit and inhumanity can hardly be want- 
 ing. 
 
 Now let us follow thefe men to the ftage of aftion and 
 bufinefs, that we may fee what effedls pafTions, fo difpofed, 
 may have upon their lives and converfations. Extrava- 
 gance, like thatjufb now defcribed, requires an infinite 
 expence to fupport it. All arts, fuch as gaming, fraud, 
 perjury, are let at work to raife money. The fox is call- 
 ed in, to cater for the wolf ; and, if he fails of a fupply, 
 the wolf himfelf goes out, and with unrelenting oppref- 
 fion, grinding the face of the poor, and plundering the 
 widow and the orphan, fweeps all before him. In the 
 mean time, the fire already kindled among his pafTions, 
 by luxury and riot, muft have vent ; at firft it fmokes in 
 libertine difcourfe and oaths, and immediately after blazes 
 ouc in adultery and murder. 
 
 To clear the way for palTions and praflices like thefe, 
 confcience muft be prieft-craft, and Chriftianity a lie. 
 There is nothing more certain, than that the kitchen and 
 cellar, are the true fountains of libertinifm and deifm. The 
 divines, who have laboured to refute thofe deftrudlive 
 novelties, by reafon, have miftaken the root of the con- 
 troverfy, for want of looking carefully into thofe two 
 places ; which had they done, they might have feen here- 
 ly turning on a fpit, and libertinifm ripening in an hogs- 
 head. The bad principles of the high fed are but the 
 excrement of gluttony and drunkennefs. The reafon of 
 the luxurious, 13 placed over the boiling furnace of their 
 paffions, and fo heated and clouded in the fteam arifing 
 from thence, that all applications to their underftandings 
 muft be vain and fruitiefs. 
 
 Let us leave them to live and periHi like the beafts ; 
 and addrefs ourfelves to thofe, who, finding in their hearts 
 the fame outrageous appetites and paflions, do neverthe- 
 
 lefs. 
 
Man his own Enemy. jgc 
 
 lefs, as yet, retain fome fenfe of Religion, and fome de- 
 fire to provide for the fafety of their fouls. Thefe men, 
 although forely prefTed and overpowered, are yet in the 
 field agalnft the flefh ; and we may afk them, Whether, 
 if they were to Jay fiege to an enemy's fortrefs, they 
 would fupply it with provifions ? Or, if they were to de- 
 fend a garifon of their own againft a powerful affailant. 
 Whether they would not bind and imprifon fuch partifans 
 of the enemy as fhould happen to be within the walls ? 
 Their anfwer is ready ; they certainly would. Is it pofii- 
 ble then, the y fhould not know, that their pafiions are 
 enemies and traitors to them, or that luxurious living is 
 the very food and fevvel of their pafTions ? If they be con- 
 vinced of thefe things, nothing can be more plain, than 
 that recourfe mud be had to great temperance at all times, 
 and often to falfing and other ads of mortification. If a 
 man is really a Chriftian, let him examine him.felf by his 
 former experience, whether luxurious, or low living, con- 
 tributes moil to the government of his paflions ; and if 
 he concludes in favour of the latter, then let him afk him- 
 felf, whether he can be fo mad, as to lay a greater flrefs 
 on riot or abflinence, than on heaven or hell ; foas to loofe 
 the company of angels, and take up for ever with that 
 of devils, for the fake of fuch company as meat and 
 drink can draw together, who, for the moft part, have 
 little to diftinguifh them from dogs and ravens, affenibled 
 by the fcent of carrion. 
 
 But if he is not convinced, that high living is fo great 
 a provocative to his pafTions, nor abflinence fo powerful a 
 bridle, it is perhaps becaufe having never tried any but the 
 former, he thinks the violence of his pafTions is owing to 
 nature, not intemperance. That it is, in fome meafure, 
 owing to nature, is very certain ; but he will never know 
 how great a fhare of the blame is to be laid on intem- 
 perance, till he tries what moderation and abflinence will 
 do. If he confults the word of God for fatistaftion in this 
 point, he will there fee the effeft of intemperance on 
 the pafTions. Lot gets drunk, and commits incefl with 
 his daughters. E/au fells his birthright for a morfel of 
 meat, and becomes a fornicator and prophane perfon. 
 
 O 2 David 
 
i9^ Man his own Enemy. 
 
 Davidy afrer a full meal, falls immediately into temptation, 
 and commits adultery. St. Paul advifes us, not to walk 
 in rioting and drunkennefs •, nor hi^ what are the almoft 
 neceiTary confequences, chambering and wantonnefs, fi^^f^ 
 and envying. Thofe^ who live in pleafure on the earth, 
 who are wantcn, who nouriJJj them/elves as in the day of 
 Jliiughter, are noted by St. James, as grievous oppreffors. 
 
 It" he is not convinced of the expediency and duty of 
 mortification, let him hear the words of our Saviour : 
 Enter in at the Jtrait gate. He that will come after me, 
 let him deny himfelf, and take up his crofs. Let him alfo 
 hear St. Paul : The world is crucified to me, and I to the 
 world. I chaften my body, and I bring it into JubjeBion, 
 leafi, after I have preached to others, I myfelf fhould be- 
 come a cafi-away. They that are Chrifi's, have crucified 
 theflefh, with the affections and Ittfls. If ye, through the 
 Spirit, do mortify the deeds of the flefh, ye floall live -, make 
 not provifion for the fiefh to fulfill the lufis thereof. 
 
 Purfuant to thefe divine authorities, all thofe holy men, 
 who have ever been diftinguifhed among Chriftians for the 
 exhalted goodnefs of their live?, have been as remarkable 
 for ruling over their appetites and paffions, with a fevere 
 and heavy hand. When wars or other public calamities 
 threaten us, we fee the nation flies to failing, as the moft 
 powerful enforcer of prayer, as that which, according to 
 Si. Bafil, furniflies it with wings. To faft and humble 
 ourfelves before God, is the furell means to turn away na- 
 tional judgments, as may appear by the cafes of Ahab^ 
 Hefier, and the Ninevites. 
 
 Whofoever is fincerely concerned at the violence of his 
 paffions, and willing to reftrain them, will fee fufficient 
 reafon, in what hath been faid, to perfwade him, that felf- 
 denial may poffibly anfwer his intention herein -, and this 
 perfwafion ought atleaft fo far to prevail on him, as to make 
 him refolve on a trial ; wliich, if he be not made of other 
 materials, and call in a different mold, from the reft of 
 mankind, muft be attended with fuccefs. 
 .'Without the afliftanceofGod, ule what means we will, 
 it is prefumption to hope for a vidory over ourfelves. But 
 beiore we can hope for the Divine Grace, we muft Ihew a 
 
 willingnefs 
 
Man his own Einemy, ' 197 
 
 "wiJlingnefs to do that which is in our own power. Befidcs, 
 we cannot expeft that God's Holy Spirit fhould take up his 
 abode with us, while his enemy the flefh is countenanced 
 and fupported by all the tendernefs for it we can poflibly 
 indulge it with. 
 
 If, however, the fincere Chriftian fhall once begin thus 
 to prepare the way of the Lord^ and to make his paths 
 ftreight and fmooth, he will have all the rcafon in the world 
 to depend upon the alTiftance of God, in finifhing fo good 
 and gracious a work ; for there is nothing a man can do 
 fo acceptable in the fight of that moft companionate Be- 
 ing, as fubduing his unruly pafTions to the divine will. 
 Such a facrifice of felf-love to God, fuch a denying of our- 
 felves to pleafe him, is the moft agreeable and glorious 
 offering we can make him. All afflidions contribute to a 
 good life, but that moft, which we voluntarily lay on our- 
 felvcs, through an hatred to fin, and a fincere defire of 
 approving ourfelves dutiful fervants in the eyes of fo good a 
 maftcr. Our heavenly Father is better pleafed to fee his 
 children afflid themlelves for their faults, than to be obliged 
 to lay his rod on them ; and what he approves of, he will 
 blefs and aflift. > 
 
 We are however to confider, that God is far from ap-: 
 proving of mortification, merely for its own fake. He de- 
 lights not in the afiBi6lions of his creatures. He hath fill- 
 ed the world with objeds fitted to entertain our fenfes and 
 pafTions ; and while we enjoy them innocently, and with 
 a due fenfe of gratitude to him, he is as well pleafed with 
 our enjoyments, as he was with thofe of our firft parents, 
 before they fell. Nor does he accept of them as the punifii- 
 ment or atonement of our fins, having appointed the 
 blood of Chrift for the one, and eternal mifery for the 
 other. He only approves of them, when they are ap- 
 plied to the curbing and reforming the irregularities of 
 the paffions. For this reafon, till our fafts reach the 
 mind, they are no fafts in refpect of Religion, or in the 
 fight of God. If in the day of ottr faji we find pleafure^ 
 or it, what is worfe, like the Fhanfee in the parable, 
 we think ourfelves, on account of our mortifications, bet- 
 ter men than others, or even prefume, as he did, to 
 
 O 3 boaft 
 
19^ i^^« his own Enemy. 
 
 boaft of them in our prayers to God, we have his own 
 word for it, that they are an abomination in his fight. 
 We are therefore, according to the admonition by Joel^ 
 to fanSiify our faji ; that is, to make it the inftrument of 
 reiormation in ourfcJves, and of charity towards others. 
 
 A man cannot call fafting an aft of felf-denial, till he 
 can fay, his belly is himfelf. " If the belly only, fays St. 
 " Bernard^ has offended, let the belly only fall ; but if all 
 *' our members, and affe6lions, and the foul itfelf, have 
 " finned, let them all fhare in the aufterity. Let the ear 
 " fafl from its itch of impertinent news and vain cover- 
 *' fation ; the tongue, from detraftion and idle words •, 
 " and, above all, let the foul faft from its love of vice, and 
 ** its flefhly will." ^he kingdom of God is not meat and 
 drink, hut jujiice and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghoji. 
 ** We ought fo to chaften our bodies, fays Maximus 
 ** Taurinenfis, as, at the fame time, to feed our fouls 
 ** with all the virtues. Let therefore deftruftive luxury, 
 *' and odious contention, and cruel oppreflion, faft. Let 
 *' the poor be fed, provided it is not with the fpoils 
 ** of the poor. To what purpole is it to abftain from 
 •♦ meat, when that which is more filthy, than the vileft 
 " kind of meat, reproach, detraftion, lies, and oaths, 
 •* are all the time ifTuing from our mouths ? Are we not 
 *' fenfible, that not that which goeth into the mouth, de- 
 •* fileth the man, but that which cometh out of the mouth?** 
 
 Upon the whole, fafting, with other afts of mortifica- 
 tion, rightly managed, and properly apphed, help to pu- 
 rify the heart, to raife it above the world, and open it to 
 the motions of the Holy Spirit. They add furprifing 
 vigour to the refolution of a Chriftian, in his war with the 
 flefii ; or at leaft, which anfwer the fame end, they greatly 
 enfeeble the enemy. " They dry up the fink of our 
 ^' vices, fays St. Cyprian, and fo extinguifh the ^^tna of 
 ^'' pur paflions, that the neighbouring mountains are no 
 " longer fcorched by that furnace of infernal fire. They 
 *'' caft out devils, and as St. Chryfoftom obferves, raife us, 
 *' for the time, above a dependance on earthly food, to 
 *' the fife of angels.'* We are, by nature, half angel, 
 half brute, We muft rife towards the one, or fink to? 
 
 w^rds 
 
Mun bis ciD?i Enemy. tgp 
 
 wards the other, and, at length, alTociate to all eternity, 
 either with angels or devils. To fced^ to ftrengthen, to 
 exercife, the Ipiritual part of us, is to rife. To feed, to 
 ftrengthen, to exercife, the brutal, is to fink, and be loft 
 for ever. " We loft the innocence and dignity of our 
 " nature, by eating, fays St. Athanafms^ and muft re- 
 " ftore ourfelves by abllinence." 
 
 A man may fay, although I feed well, I hope, by rea- 
 fon and refolution, to keep down my inordinate defires. 
 Vain are the hopes of fuch a perfon. The faints and 
 hermits, with all their amazing mortifications, found this 
 no eafy tafk, fuch is the corruption of human nature, 
 fince the fall, in which the foil of the earth, and the foul 
 of man, fell under a like curfe. Much labour and vio- 
 lence muft be ufed to both, or they will produce no 
 fruit ; and, after our utmoft pains and flcill, we muft ex- 
 pe(5t, along with the crop, to lee tares, briars, and thorns, 
 fliooting up every day. Men feed themfelves up, 
 through an unhappy indulgence to their defires, with 
 hopes of travelUng downward, through a broad fmooth 
 road, to heaven, and entering into it by a wide and 
 open gate. Although our Saviour gives a contrary 
 account of that journey, yet fiefh and blood, rely- 
 ing more on hope in themfelves, than faith in him, 
 would needs endeavour to make it a mere jaunt of plea- 
 fure. Even thofe who think felf-denial neceflary, are of- 
 ten too tender of themfelves to put it in praftice. They 
 will faft to get rid of a flight bodily diforder ; and yet 
 will not do as much to be cured of diforders that threaten 
 the foul with eternal death. O aftonilhing! that a ftiort, 
 uncertain, miferable hfe, ftiould fcem, to a thinking be- 
 ing, more worthy to be preferved and provided for, than 
 that which is eternal, and may be rendered infinitely hap- 
 py. A man may be as indulgent to his internal enemy as 
 he pleafes ; yet he may aflure himfelf, the corruptions of 
 flefti and blood are not to be cured by delicate, but fevere 
 metho.is ; not to be rubbed with foft cloths and napkins, 
 but rather with the potflierd of Job. 
 
 *' Nobody hears, fays St. Augijlin^ the tempter, faying 
 " within him, What do you mean by your fafting ? Why 
 
 O 4 "do 
 
200 Man hts own Enemy. 
 
 " do you defraud your own foul ? You punifh yourfelf ; ''' 
 " you are your own tormenter : He is a cruel mafter you 
 " ferve, if he is pleafed with your mifery. Aiifwer him 
 ** thus, fays that writer: I torment myfelf, that God may 
 '* fpare me-, I fuRer, that God may forgive, and that 
 " the flefh may hang lefs heavily upon my»foul j knowing 
 " well, that the vidim muft be flayed and mangled, be- 
 " before it is laid on the altar.** 
 
 The ficknefs, which hath been bred out of delicacies, 
 can fometimes be purged away only by bitter or naufeous 
 medicines. Shall we Itill continue to think the delicacies 
 good, and the medicines evil ? No : all is not good, that 
 pleafes, nor all evil, that gives pain. Now, nothing but 
 good, is the objedl of choice -, and therefore we ought, 
 after having carefully diftinguifhed the real, from the feem- 
 ing, good or evil, to embrace that which is good, not 
 that which is pleafant, and fliun that which is evil, not 
 that which is painful. If then luxury, and riot, and vo- 
 luptuoufnefs, are condemned both by Scripture and ex- 
 perience, as hurtful to the foul, let us, like rational crea- 
 tures, dcteft and avoid d.em, be they never fo grateful to 
 our corrupt inclinations. If, on the other hand, tem- 
 perance and mortification are, by the word of God, and ' 
 the trials that have been made of them, found to be high- 
 ly inftrumental in promoting the virtue and real happinefs 
 cf mankind, let us, in the name of God, as becomes men 
 of fenfe and Chriftians, determine to be at all times tctn- 
 fcrate in all th'mgs ; and, when occafion requires, if our 
 conftitutions will bear it, to mortify the deeds of the fiefh^ 
 be it never fo irkfome to the brutal part of our nature. 
 
 And may God, of his infinite mercy accept our facri- 
 jfice herein, and, by the power of his Holy Spirit, crown 
 our warfare with a glorious victory, and an eternal tri- 
 umph, through Jefus Chrifl our Lord ; to whom, in the 
 unity of the ever-bkfled Trinity, be all might, majefty, 
 dignity, and dominion, now', and for evermore. Amen. 
 
C 2°' ] 
 
 DISCOURSE xn. 
 
 The Progrefs of Man. 
 
 Psalm viii. 5. 
 Thou haft made Mm a little lower than the angels. 
 
 ALthongh thefe words, and what follow in the three 
 next verfes, are, in their more important meaning, 
 to be underflood of our Saviour Jefus Chrifl, and accord- 
 ingly are by St. Paul applied to him in the epiftle of the 
 Hebrews \ yet are they as applicable, in their firft, fimple, 
 and immediate fenfe, to man in general. It is plain, Da- 
 vid had the infirmity, and the feeming infignificance, of 
 human nature under confideration, at the uttering thefe 
 words of the fame Pfalm : I^Fben I confider thy heavens^ 
 the work of thy fingers^ the moon andjtars, which thou haji 
 ordained ; fVhat is man, that thou art mindful of bim ? 
 ^nd the Son of man, that thou vijitefi him ? 
 
 But he is comforted again, when he refleds, 'That God 
 hath made man only a little lower than the angels ; that he 
 hath crowned him with glory and honour ; and that he 
 hath, by the prerogative bellowed on him, as a reafonable 
 creature, in the firft of Genefis, given him dominion over 
 the fifh of the fea, and over the fowl of the air, and over 
 £very- thing that moveth upon the earth. 
 
 The 
 
202 7 he Progrefs of Man. 
 
 The words of my text, together with thofe that follow, 
 thus underftood, fhew us, what reafon and obfervation 
 alfo render probable, that man is placed in the middle, 
 between the angelic and brutal nature, being a little lozver 
 than the former^ and, at the fame time, holding dominion 
 over the latter. 
 
 It is a thing very remarkable, that all the orders of 
 created beings, known to us, form a kind of fcale or chain, 
 wherein the lower is always Unked to that above, by fome- 
 what common to the nature of both. The nature and 
 qualities of lifelefs matter are found in plants ; the ve- 
 getable life of plants, in brutes -, the fenfes, appetites, and 
 afFedions of brutes, in man ; and the reafoning faculty of 
 man, in angels. That this communion of natures afcends 
 ftill higher, than we can pofTibly trace it, is very pro- 
 bable ; fince, fo far as we are able to purfue it, no breach 
 nor interruption can be difcovered -, and fince, in holy 
 Scripture, a certain diftinftion of order and dignity among 
 created beings, of a clafs fuperior to our own, feems plainly 
 enough pointed out to us by the terms angels, archangels, 
 principalities, powers, dominions, thrones, cherubim, and 
 leraphim, which had never been ufed in the fame fentence, 
 and immediately following one another, had it not been 
 the intention of the Holy Spirit to exprefs to us fome 
 diftindion or fubordination in thefe fuperior creatures. 
 
 With this chain, or gradation of created beings, there 
 feems to be joined a certain progrefs of each, at leaft for 
 a few links, from lower to higher, or the contrary j a 
 rife from the clafs below, to the excellence of that above •, 
 or a fall from the clafs above, to the infignificance and 
 bafenefs of that below. This we may obferve, in matter, 
 for inftance, which rifes from dead earth to plants ; from 
 plants to animals •, or finks from the bodies of animals 
 into plants, and afterwards, upon the diffolution of thofe 
 plants, rots, and is reduced to common dirt. That there 
 is a like improvement or degeneracy in the world of fpi- 
 rits is moft highly probable, and the rather, as every man 
 may obferve fomewhat hke it in himfclf •, for we are never 
 at a ftand, but always afcending to a greater perfeftion in 
 * virtucj 
 
The Progrefi of Man. 2 03 
 
 virtue, or defcending to grofler acls of vice and wicked- 
 nefs. 
 
 Man borrows one half of his nature from creatures of a 
 fuperior, and the other, from creatures of an inferior, 
 order ; and, thus compounded, links together the chain 
 of beings by ftanding between the angel and the brute, 
 and bearing an equal reladon to both. He hath, in com- 
 mon with the firft, a reafonable foul, which may render 
 him a free, a moral, and a religious, being ; and he hath, 
 in common with the laft, an animal body, with fenfes, 
 pafTions, and appetites, that may engage him in grofs and 
 brutal pollutions. So far as he is a fpiritual being, he 
 may afpire, through virtue and piety, to the nature and 
 dignity of angels ; and, fo far as he is an animal being, 
 he may degenerate, through vice and irreligion, to the 
 abjed: nature of a brute. What limits God hath afligned 
 to either progrefs we know not ; but, forafmuch as the 
 Divine Nature is at the head, and the diabolical at the 
 foot, of all beings, it feems impoffible, that a creature fo 
 progreflive in virtue and vice, as man is, fhould not al- 
 ways either improve in angelical goodnefs to a greater re- 
 femblance of God ; or grow more brutiflily wicked, to a 
 ilill nearer and nearer likenefs of the devil. 
 
 Purfuant to this obfervation, there are three flates, in 
 one or other of which every man may be found. 
 
 The firft is of thofe, who waver between virtue and the 
 angelical nature, on the one fide •, and vice, with the brutal 
 nature, on the other. Religion and confcience, having 
 laid hold on their underftandings, teach them to look up- 
 ward, and labour to improve and refine their nature to a 
 refemblanceof better beings than themfelves. During the 
 influence of thefe principles, they rife to fom eimprove- 
 ment in piety ; but are foon thrown down again to low 
 thoughts, to grofs and vicious aftions, and confequently 
 to a depravation and corruption of nature, by the force 
 of violent temptadous, working on the brutal part of their 
 compofition. A man of this turn, having too much un- 
 derftanding and confcience to be completely wicked, and 
 too much of appetite and pafllon to be uniformly good, is 
 unjiable m all bis ways. One hour, his religious, his 
 
 laudable 
 
204 The Progrefs of Man. 
 
 laudable ambition to be fomewhat more than a mere man, 
 raifes him above himfelf, and forces even his paffions to 
 fecond his reafon and principles ; the next, his flefhly ap- 
 petites and brutal pafiions, taking the lead, fink him as 
 much below himfelf, and the rank even his mixed nature 
 intitles him to in the fcale of being, infomuch that his ««- 
 derjianding is darkened^ his very reafon for a time de- 
 praved, and his principles perverted or-byafied to a mi- 
 serable compliance with fuch intentions and adions, as 
 better become a brute than a man. The one half cf his 
 nature feems to confult apart from the other, and even 
 fometimes to aft by itfelf, as if he confifted rather of two 
 diftinft perfons, than tv/o different parts. Take him when 
 the fpiritual part of his nature prevails, and you conceive 
 hopes of his becoming in time a faint or an angel. Take 
 him when the brutal part hath the maftery, and you can- 
 not help fearing, he will at length degenerate into a brute 
 or devil. 
 
 This war between the law of fpirit and fiefh, both of 
 which are firong and a6live within him, not only makes 
 it uncertain, as well to himfelf as others, what he is, or 
 will be, but likev/ife renders every one of his adions, 
 whether virtuous or vicious, fo very defedive in its kind, 
 that it is impoflible to judge, whether he is a good or bad 
 man, whether he is in the broad or narrow way ; and, in 
 a word, whether the angel or the animal hath the better 
 right to give him a name. 
 
 However, it is worth his while ferioufly to confider two 
 things-, the mifery, and danger, of his condition. 
 
 That man is, certainly, for the prefent, very unhappy, 
 who, having a juft fenfe of religion, a rational profped:, 
 and with it a glorious ambition, of rifing to an higher order 
 of beings by the purification and improvement of his na- 
 ture, finds himfelf neverthelcfs drawn downward by the 
 inferior part of that nature, and fo entangled in the cor-; 
 ruption of fin, that his fears of falling into a lower and 
 bafer order of beings are fully fufficient to ballance all his 
 hopes of rifing. He who hath great thoughts, and an 
 high fenfe of things, muft be infinitely more impatient, 
 than men wliofe mipris are much lower pitched, under the 
 
 dii grace 
 
The Trogj-efs of Man. ' 205 
 
 difgrace of a fall from fuch ex;Uted views, to reafonable 
 apprehenfions of finding himfeJf, in the end, a vile and 
 abjed beaft, inftead of a glorious angel. 
 
 But, while he labours under thefe diftradions, he hath 
 fomething, if he confiders it, to reproach himfclf with, 
 that fets him, in point of underftanding, below the fool, 
 who is uniformly wicked. A life, fo divided between 
 virtue and vice, as his, can never refine his nature, and 
 qualify him for glory and happincfs ; and yet no kind of 
 life can be farther from pleafure and fatisfadion •, for, at 
 the fame time that his corrupt inclinations, and vile 
 pradices, put it out of his power to rclifh the angelic 
 pleafures of contemplation, of devotion, and of doing 
 good, his confcience, and his title to exaltation, which 
 he knows not how to furrender, forbid his having any 
 other than an imperfeft enjoyment of fin, and force him 
 to take up with a pitiful fhare of thofe pleafures, which 
 the intirely wicked allows himfelf. Befides, 'his finful 
 pleafures are embittered with remorfe, and he feels the 
 pangs of gui-lt, without the comfort of reformation. Is 
 this a fcheme for a fenfible mind, or one that had ever 
 any notion of that which is great and good, to reft in ? 
 No ; it is fo far from a rational fcheme, that it is no 
 fcheme at all. He is a man of underftanding and reli- 
 gion, and yet lives without a defign or fcheme, without 
 any certain aim or end ; but is fometimes drawn up- 
 ward, and fometimes driven downward (without know- 
 ing where he fliall ftop in the one progrefs, or whether 
 he fhall perfevere in the other), by quite contrary im- 
 pul fes, that depend not, either as to their kind or degree, 
 on his own eleftion. Surely the condition of fuch a man, 
 fo convulfed and torn by contrary principles, fo anxioufiy 
 ftruggling upward at one time, and fo Ihamefully falling 
 at another, fo racked between hopes and fears, now 
 afpiring to the piety and glory of angels, and now 
 plunged in the abjed appetites, the abominable pollutions, 
 of a beaft, muft be very miferable. 
 
 Yet, miferable as it is, he ought keenly to confider the 
 
 danger he is in of falling, even from this ftate of dif- 
 
 tradion, wherein, if there is a battle, there is alfo fome hope 
 
 3 . ,0^ 
 
2o6 ^be Progrefs of Man. 
 
 of vidory, into a courfc of life, that muft hurry him 
 continually downward. It is not in the nature of man to 
 be, for any confiderable time, neither better nor worfe. 
 Nor will the principles that are within him, nor the fpi- 
 ritual good or ill powers that ad on him from without, 
 long fuffer him to remain in the fame rrjoral ftate. If the 
 Spirit of God, together with a lively confcience, and a 
 right fenfe of religion, have the government of his mind, 
 they will lead him continually upward to a more pufe and 
 ipiritual nature. If the devil and vice have the dominion 
 over him, they will keep him always in motion down- 
 ward, to ftill deeper and fouler degrees of corruption.. 
 Befides, as habit always naturally grows out of practice, 
 it will add confiderably to the fpeed and expedition of 
 cither progrefs. 
 
 It being therefore certain, that he muft be always, in 
 the main, either rifing or falling \ and, as he cannot but 
 choofe the former, it is his bufinefs to bring his paflions 
 and affedions, as fpeedily as pofTible, either heartily to 
 concur with, or at leaft humbly to fubmit to, his choice. 
 In order to this, tlie nature of the fubje6t v/c are upon, if 
 clofely confidered, will lend him all the afliftance (hu- 
 manly fpeaking) his cafe admits of. If, on the one hand, 
 he ftrongly reprefents to himfelf the glory and happinefs, 
 •which the angelic order enjoys, through the purity and 
 excellence of its nature, he will find fomewhat, in this re- 
 prefentation, infinitely more powerful to engage his af- 
 fedions, than all the lieili and the world can tempt them 
 ■with. If, on the other, he fenfibly confiders, not only 
 what it is to be a beaft, but what it is to fall from a ra- 
 tional to a brutal nature, and, for the (in of fuch a fall, to 
 be degraded, even below the rank of a brute, to the dif- 
 graceful nature, and the dreadful condition of a devil, he 
 will derive, from this confideration, wherewithal to alarm 
 his (hame, his fear, and every other fenfe, that is mofl 
 impatient of pain and mifery, to fuch a pitch, as' will put 
 it pafl the power of any other object or confideration to 
 make a deep imprelTion on them. 
 
 The fecond flate, in relation to the prefent fubjed, in 
 which a too numerous clafs of men may be found, is of 
 
 thofe. 
 
^he Progrefs of Man, 207 
 
 thofe, who make an uniform, though more or lefs fpeedy, 
 progrefs, through vice or irreligion, to the nature of 
 brutes. 
 
 Thefe are the men, in whom human nature is inverted ; 
 in whom the brute, which ouglit to ferve and be direded, 
 ufurps a tyranny over the angel, whofe right it is to di- 
 rect, reftrain, and govern •, that is, in whom fenfc, ap- 
 petite, and paffion, bear the fway, wiiile reafon and con- 
 fcience a6l only an under part, when they are fufFered to 
 ad at all, and ferve for no other purpofe, but to coun- 
 tenance the folly, or fcheme the wickednefs, of their 
 lives. Were not inftances of this fort fo common as they 
 are, we Ihould be more fliocked with them, than with 
 the fight of a man driven by an horfe, or whipped and 
 difciplined by a dog, and obliged to run on his errands, 
 whenever he pleafes to bark his will. This image fets the 
 thing in a moil contemptible, and, I own, in a ridiculous 
 light ; but in what other light can it be juftly fet ^ 
 
 When we are aflced. What man is? we anfwer, He is a 
 rational animal. If this is admitted as a right definition, 
 will it not exclude from the clafs of men all thofe crea- 
 tures, howfoever diftinguiflied by an outward human 
 figure, over whom reafon hath fo little authority, that 
 either no ends, or ends quite contrary to thofe of their 
 being, are purfued during the far greater part of their 
 lives, and in whom mere fenfual affedlions, grofs appe- 
 tites, and lawlefs paflions, prefcribe at random fo wild 
 and wicked a behaviour, as nothing but infamy and mi- 
 fcry can attend ? Is he a rational creature, or a man, who 
 never a6ts by reafon ? Or rather, is he not a brute, who, 
 after his hunger is fatisfied, eats till he furfeits ; after his 
 thirft is quenched, and his fpirits cheared, drinks on till 
 he can neither think, fpeak, nor (land; who, after the 
 natural ends of commerce with the other fcx are anfwered, 
 follows his filthy defire, till all the powers, both of his 
 mind and body, are enfeebled to an utter unfitnels for 
 every office, nay, every pleafure of life ; who, after rifing 
 to a ftation high enough to make his head giddy, and too 
 heavy for his flioulders to bear, in purluit of his ambition, 
 fchemes or fights on for a degree of pov.'er, which he does 
 
 net 
 
2o8 The Progrcfi of Man, 
 
 not even propofe either to ufe or enjoy ? Who, after he 
 hath fcraped together more wealth than is fufficient for 
 many expenfive msn, is ilill a beggar, as appears by the 
 miferable penury in which he hves, and by the infinite 
 anxiety, wherewith he diftradls and tortures himfelf in the 
 purfuit of more ? Or who, being poiTefied of more than 
 he can pofTibly ufe, puts it to the hazard of a die, whe- 
 ther he Ihall have twice as much, or nothing ? If fuch 
 creatures, inftead of obtaining the lead lliadow of eafe, 
 peace, or contentment, only plunge themfelves in fick- 
 nefs, in confufion, in diftrefs, in remorfe, in death ; fhall* 
 we not rank ourfelves with them, if we pronounce them 
 men, and reafonable creatures ? For my part, I think it 
 a fcandal to human nature, and highly detrimental to civil 
 and religious fociety, that fuch brutes, merely on the 
 ftrength of walking eredt on two legs, and wearing an 
 human face, fhould be fuffered flill to pafs.for men. 
 What better is the fpaniel, that fawns and flatters for a 
 bit ; the ape, that by his ridiculous grimaces, confounds 
 things facred and profane ; the fox, that fupports himfelf 
 by fraud and deceit ; the goat, that lives only on his luft ; 
 and the wolf, or tyger, that oppreffes and tears all he can 
 lay his teeth on, for difguifing himfelf in an human figure ? 
 Were all men fuch as thefe, Solomdn might have truly 
 faid, as well in refpeft to the life, as the death of man, 
 that he hath no pre-eminence above a beaji. When the 
 heart, or underftanding, of a beaji, was given to Nebu- 
 chadnezzar, he was driven from the fociety of men ; and, 
 though (till retaining the fliape of a man, was forced to 
 herd and mefs on grafs with his peers in brutality. Were 
 God pleafed, in like manner, to manifeft the prefent fet of 
 brutes, that pafs for men, fo as that they might fee, as So- 
 lomon exprefles it, that they themfelves are heafis, what 
 honour would it not do to human nature! And what hap- 
 pinefs would it not bring to the real men, who might, in 
 that cale, have leave to govern themfelves, and manage 
 their affairs, by the rules of right reafon, and pure reli- 
 gion ! On the other hand, what a deteftable, what a mi- 
 lerable herd muft thefe brutes, thus expelled from human 
 fociety, conftitute, if their abominable quahties could fuffer 
 
 them 
 
The Progrefs of Aia>2, io^ 
 
 thciti to live together ! But till this be donC) which wc 
 are fure will one day happen, as it is the jiift privilege, io 
 it will be the wifdom, of every reafonable creature, to 
 look on fuch nibnfters of their own making with con- 
 tempt and detellation ; for, furely, of all living creatures, 
 they befl deferve it, devils only excepted. Ocher brutes 
 are where it hath pkafed God to put them, and a6t up to 
 the nature he hath given them -, but thefe brutes have 
 chofen to degrade themfelves from an higher order of 
 beings, artd from pretenfions to an order (till more ex- 
 alted and dignified ; and, inftead of anfwering either the 
 intentions of their Maker, or the expeftations of men, 
 purfue a coiirfe of life direflly contrary to both •, and arc 
 become, in the mouths of rafh and ignorant perfons, a 
 reproach to the works of God, and an objeftion to the 
 wifdom and juftice of his providence. 
 
 Of thofe, who thus fall frorii the dignity of human na- 
 ture into a ftate of brutality, there are few or none that do 
 it all at once. They defcend to this fink of folly and vice 
 by certain fteps, fo imperceptible to themfelves, that they 
 often rife in vanity, as they fink in dignity, till chey be- 
 come capable of even glorying in their Jhame. It requires 
 fome length of time, and force of habit, to make fo great 
 a change in nature, as that which compels a rational foul to 
 give up all its glorious profpe^fls, and to Cnk into a lower 
 order of beings. 
 
 The original taint of human nature is that which gives 
 the firft occafion to this fall. It is owing to this, that the 
 appetites, the afFeclions, the paffions, that is, the brutal 
 part, of moft men, comes earlier to its ftrength, than 
 the rational or angelic. If there hvippens to be any df?- 
 fe6t, or wrong byafs, in the education of a man, as for 
 inftance, if he pafles any confiderable Ihare of his youth 
 under the unhappy influence of unfound princip'es, or bad 
 examples, his brutal part, having been fuffered to corre- 
 fpond too freely and too clofcly with fenfual alluremems, 
 foon over-powers the rational, and gives him either -a 
 worldly or voluptuous turn of thinking. In this difpo- 
 fition of mind, he now and then ventures on vicious 
 Vol. II. I* piai-Hices, 
 
2 10 The Progrefs of Man. 
 
 praftices, intemperance, lying, lewdnefs ; and ftill, as 
 confcience and Ihame give way, proceeds with greater 
 boldnefs to more frequent and grofler afts of the kind. 
 If his reafon, roufed by the immediate mifchiefs of vice, 
 or feme fears of futurity, now and then remonftrates 
 againft fuch praftices, it is eafily overborne by the vio- 
 lence of appetite and paffion in fuch an one, whofe heart 
 goes before his head, and hath already got the ftart and 
 maftery within him. But thefe checks of reafon, con- 
 fcience, or fhame, which never wrought on him with any 
 confiderable ftrength, giving him pain, and vice plea- 
 fure, the fpiritual part of his nature grows ftiil weaker, 
 and the brutal ftronger, till the habit of fin rivets all 
 his vices in the very foul of him, and renders them inve- 
 terate. 
 
 In the mean time, if the influence of confcience, or re- 
 gard to charafter, continue to give him fome uneafinefs, 
 he never once confiders either as an inftrument of reform- 
 ation, but as a clog to his purfuits ; and therefore, inftead 
 of fetting himfelf to confult with either, he only feeks a 
 remedy againft both. To cure himfelf of his confcience, 
 he looks out for loofe principles, and quickly finds, that 
 all religion is prieftcraft and impofition ; for, as hath been 
 already obfcrved, his brutifli heart goes foremoft in all 
 things, and forces his head to follow. By this manage- 
 ment his very reafon is debauched, and the angel within 
 him falling, is no lefs brutalized than the groffer half of 
 his compofition. Regard to his charader, which in him 
 is nothing more than regard to hisfchemes of pleafure and 
 interelt, which cannot proceed without fome chara<5ler, 
 gives him a good deal more trouble, than his confcience ; 
 for, whereas his confcience lies altogether at the mercy of 
 his own difcretion, his charadler depends as much on the 
 ©pinions and tongues of others. His only relief, in this 
 cafe, is to be drawn from deceit and artifice, wherewith 
 he takes care to flock himfelf, as faft as he can, according 
 to the utmoft extent of that underftanding God hath 
 given him for higher and better purpofes. Here alfo the 
 angel is enfiavcd to the brute, and he is rational only in 
 
 order 
 
The Progrefs of Man, Hi 
 
 order to be wicked. If pleafure is his tUrh, dreflingj 
 ■drinking, wenching, fwallow up all his time and fortune, 
 and lead him fuch a dance, through a fink of filth and 
 pollution, as is too grofs for the tafte of a fwine. If ava- 
 rice or ambition lays hold on him, he puts himfelf under 
 the tuition of the old ferpent, and, by a mixture of de- 
 ceit, which is no way akin to right reafon, or true wifdofn j 
 and of cruelty, which hath no tindure of bravery, he 
 does more mifchief among mankind in one year, than all 
 the wild beafts of the world during twenty. 
 
 In the laft ftage of a mind, thus wholly abandoned to 
 brutality, no beaft can think or act with lefs regard to 
 reafon, with lefs fenfe of confcience, or fhame, or pity, 
 than fuch a monfter. He falls from fo great an height, 
 who falls from the nature of a man to that of a beaft, that 
 he cannot ftop even at brutality, but is hurried ftill down- 
 ward, till he can hardly be diftinguifhed from his tempter ; 
 fo that, from being only a little lower than the angels^ he 
 is now but a very little higher than the devils. 
 
 It is now time to turn our eyes from a fcc of wretches, 
 who do not only (hock us with the fight of reafon in ruins, 
 as is the cafe when we fee a madman, or a fool, but, what 
 is infinitely worfe, with the mind of a brute and a devil 
 in the mafk of a man, to the refrelliing view of an human 
 creature rifing, through the improvement of his angelic 
 nature, towards an higher order of beings, till that which 
 was fown in corruption, is raifed in incorruption ; till thai 
 which was [own in diJJjonour, is raifed in glory ; //// that 
 which was fown in weaknefs,, is raifed in power. Thefe 
 are the men, who, in refpeft to the great change, whereof 
 the nature of man is capable, are found in the third ftate, 
 namely, of fuch as make a more or lefs fpeedy progrefs, 
 through piety and virtue, to the nature of angels. 
 
 We are told by our blefTed Saviour, that, in the refiir- 
 reElion^ we fhall he 04 the angels of God in heaven •, that is, 
 holy, happy, and crowned with unfpeakable glory. But^ 
 if we do not refemble them in goodnefs here, in this ftate 
 of trial and preparation, we cannot hope to rife hereafter 
 10 a participation of their dignity. The angels always be- 
 
 P 2 hold 
 
212 The Progrefs of Man, 
 
 hold the face of God; but, without hoUnefs^ no manfhall 
 fee the Lord, The men I am fpeaking of, having laid 
 this to heart, do all they can, during their whole lives, 
 to perfe5l holinefs in the fear of God. Like the angels in 
 hesiveny _ they have fet the Lord always before them, both 
 as their mafter, in whofe fight and prefence they are to 
 perform the tafk affigned them ; and as their pattern, to 
 which their whole lives, as far as human infirmity will 
 permit, are to be conformed. 
 
 Degenerate as the times are, we here and there fee a 
 man of this fort, whom, were we to confider him in the 
 mean of his a(5tions, and not in his outward figure, or ini 
 his accidental (lips, we fhould take to be an angel, rather 
 than a man. If we compare the purity and holinefs of his 
 life, with thofe of angels, or with the corruptions of other 
 msn, we fhall perceive a much greater refemblance in him 
 to the former, than to the latter. If we confider the fer- 
 vour of his devotions, we fhall find him, agreeably to the 
 image given in Scripture of God's minijlring fpirits, a 
 fame of fire ^ of fire, fo bright, fo pure, fo hallowed, and 
 of a tendency upward to the fountain and objedt of love, 
 fo warm and ftrong, as raifes him, in fpite of the flcfli 
 and blood that yet hang about him, to afellowfhip in piety 
 with angels and fcraphim. If we confider him in the 
 truth of all he fays, in the integrity of all he does, in the 
 zeal and aftivity wherewith he ferves his mafter, in his be- 
 neficence to all men, in his compafi"ion for the miferable, 
 and in his good offices even to luch as have injured him 
 in his fortune, his character, and his perfon, we fhall 
 have too much modefly to rank him with ourfelves ; we 
 fhall pronounce him a miniftring fpirit, an angel. 
 
 It will be worth our while, who look up to him from a 
 flare, in compari'bn of his, fo low and abje<51:, to inquire 
 by what fteps he rofe fo fo great an height. So far as his 
 happy progrefs depended on his own endeavours, he be- 
 gan with a fiir and clofe examination into the difference 
 between good and ill principles, and their efFedtsi between 
 good and ill prailices, and their confequences -, and hav- 
 ii^, on a full convidlion of his judgment, chofen the 
 
 former. 
 
The Progrefs of Man, 2 1 2 
 
 former, he put himfelf under the government of his an- 
 gelic part, or his underftanding. But, finding the brutal 
 part, or his fleflily nature, utterly averfe to fuch a govern- 
 ment, he did not flay to confuit with fle(h and blood, 
 but had recourfe immediately to watching, mortification, 
 and prayer. By a refolute perfcverance in thefe, the 
 brute wichin him was bridled, and the angel began to 
 gain ground. When at any time he {tumbled, and fell 
 back from his courfe, the remorfes of a David^ and the 
 tears of a Magdelen, brought him up again to an higher 
 and firmer ftation, than that from whence he fell. I'hus 
 he grappled with himfelf, and fought with his enemy, 
 till the hand of God and habit gained him a complete 
 victory, and gave him the intire command over the infe- 
 rior part of his compofition. From this time, he faw the 
 world far beneath him, and its pomps, its vanities, its 
 profits, its pleafures, funk and diminiOied to a minute- 
 nefs, that left them but a very fmall fhare of his efteem ; 
 while God and virtue took up all his attention, filled his 
 imagination, and infpired him with a noble ambition of 
 rifmg in the fcale, of being a ftep nearer to the fource of 
 all perfection. In this bleffed ftate of mind, he found, 
 with infinite delight, all his afi?'e6tions and pafTions, not 
 only under abfolute fubjeftion, but fo fpiritualized, and 
 pointed upward, that they ferved only to give warmth 
 to his devotions, and to carry his heart, with all their 
 ftrength, to God. 
 
 Such is the nature of this angel in human (hape •, and 
 his carriage is conformable to his nature ; for being, in 
 the firft place, innocent, and void of offence towards Gody 
 and towards man \ and, in the next place, giving up his 
 foul and affedtions to God, he divides -his time between 
 the delightful ardours of piety and prayer on the one 
 hand, and afts of goodnefs and charity on the other. 
 What he folicits God to be to him, as far as his limited 
 ability extends, he thinks himfelf obliged to be to others. 
 What he taftes from the fountain of good, whether it be 
 in fpiritual or temporal blefilngs, he fcatters with an un- 
 (paring hand among his fellow-creatures. He is the can il 
 . P 5 of 
 
2 14 ^/'^ Trogrefs ef Man. 
 
 of God's goodnefs to man, which, as it paffes through 
 him, enriches its banks with flowers of an heavenly hue, 
 and fruits of a moft exalted tafte. He is the almoner of 
 Divine Charity, and is paid his falary in bleffings both 
 from the Giver and receiver. In profperity, he is the 
 Vefuge of the helplefs, the protedion of the opprefled, 
 the treafurer of God, frugal in his own expences, and 
 faithful in the difburfements of his Matter. In adverfity 
 and perfecution, he is a rock too high for fear to reach 
 him, too firm and folid for the cruelties of men, or the 
 batteries of fortune, to Ihake him. Take him in what 
 light yoQ will, he does honour, not only to his own un- 
 derftanding and refolution, but to his religion and human 
 nature. In a word, he wants nothing but death to make 
 him an angel. 
 
 Having thus briefly confidered the three diff^erent dates, 
 in refpeft to improvement and degeneracy, in one or 
 other of which every man muft be found, it is now our 
 bufinefs carefully to examine which of them is our own, 
 that we may have recourfe to the refolutions and mea- 
 fures, v/hich the fituation we are in fliall render ne- 
 ceflary. 
 
 If gny man finds himfelf wavering between virtue and 
 vice, fonietimes rifing, in purity and goodnefs, towards 
 an higher, and fometimes finking, in corruption and fin, 
 towards a lower nature than his own, he is no lopger to 
 trufl: himfelf to a fl:ate fo dangerous and uncertain ; but to 
 confider, that he mufl: quickly and unavoidably enter fully 
 into the one courfe, or the other j to compare the widely 
 diflferent ends of each, and immediately fix his choice, 
 before temptation and habit do it for him -, and then to 
 put on refojutions fuitable to the progrefs he choofes, and 
 to the dignity of a free and rational creature. 
 
 If he finds his heart already engaged in a progrefs 
 downward to brutality, he is lofl: to himfelf, if he does 
 not immediately ufe his utmofb endeavour to roufe his 
 rnind to a fharp conflid; with his corruptions. He fhould 
 labour to bring himfelf back to that fl:ruggle he felt withia 
 jijrri^ feetween the angel and the brute^, before he fell^ 
 
 \Yhich_^ 
 
^he Progrefs of Matt* 2 1 f 
 
 which, afl a fever does to the body, hath weakened his 
 mind, and left his virtue a dying, fo that he hath no 
 other refourfe, but in the violence of his former diforder ; 
 which diforder, as it is, muft be the firft ftep to his cure. 
 To reduce him to this, the grace of God, and all his own 
 refolution, will be litde enough. But, how he may 
 awaken his ftupid mind to a proper refolution, unlefs by 
 confidering, that the couife he is in will foon confirm 
 him a brute and a devil, is more than I can tell. 
 
 But, in cafe he finds reafon to think he is rifing, 
 through piety and purity of heart, towards the angelic 
 nature, he ftands in little need of our advice. The joy 
 and exultation he feels in fuch a thought, muft, to an 
 Undcrftanding fo well enlightened, and to an heart fo 
 happily turned as his, be fufficient to give him all pof- 
 fible fleadinefs and alacrity in fuch a progrefs. 
 • On the whole, a thinking mind cannot pofTijDly enter- 
 tain a more true Or interefting reflexion than this, that^ 
 if he exercifes himfelf in religious meditations, and yiijr 
 tuous adions, he (hall thereby refine, improve, and 
 adorn, his nature, till he finds himfelf crowned with the 
 glory of a conqueror, and Ihining in the fociety of an- 
 gels -, but that if, on the contrary, he gives himfelf up 
 to fenfual pleafures, or to a low and worldly courfe of 
 \\h^ he muft degenerate to a contemptible flave,, an ab- 
 je61: brute, an infernal devil. To what a glorious height 
 may we rife ! To what a dreadful depth may we fall ! 
 Where is our ambition ? Why does it, how can it, fuflfer 
 us to-wafte a thought on any other grandeur? Is it lead« 
 ing us in purfuit of worldly thrones, and wordly fceptres? 
 Pefpicable objefls 1 Senfelefs purfuit ! What is a king, 
 an emperor, to an angel ! Where is our prudence, our 
 caution ? Why do they not alarm us with the danger of 
 than only fall, which can make us little in the eyes of 
 God, and fcandalous in thofe of all his creatures ? Are 
 they employed in guarding us againft the danger of 
 falling into poverty^, or of finking from that wretched 
 inch of worldly diftinflion to which we are raifed ? V/hat 
 is this to the danger of tumbling from the dignity of a 
 
 ^ 4 rational. 
 
tl6 The Progrefs of Man. 
 
 rational, to the bafenefs of a brutal, nature ? Does reafon 
 deferve the name, if it cannot call them up from appre- 
 henfions fo low and childifh, to an alarm fp loud and teri- 
 rible ? Surely if reafon cannot do this, it can do nothing. 
 But I forget that I am talking to people who call them- 
 felves Chriftians, that is, to people who have not only 
 reafon, but faith, to aflift them on this occafion. How 
 grofly do they impofe on themfelves in thinking they 
 have either, if all they have for both, cannot teach then^ 
 how to diftinguilh between the value of a pin, and that 
 of a crown, or between things that bear infinitely lefs 
 proportion ? 1 am at a lofs, whether I fhould charge 
 mankind with a want of common fenfe, fo wildly do 
 they wander from what they fee m to defpife •, or with 
 a want of ambition, fo low, fo piriful, are their pur- 
 fuits. 
 
 Indeed it is natural for all men to afpire, and ex- 
 tremely mortifying to be degraded, not only in ftation, 
 office, or honour, but more efpecially in being and na- 
 ture. With what joy would it tranfporc a man to be 
 transformed, as in a moment, into an angel ! How would 
 it (hock him, fuddenly to change the outward fhape of 
 a man for that of a brute ! And why ihould he not as 
 ftrongly defire the former, and as deeply abhor the latter 
 change, fuppofing either gradual ? Or is a change of 
 Jhape only fo affcding ? Is not fo glorious a rife, fo mi- 
 ferable a fall of mind, of nature, infinitely more intereft- 
 ing ? The defire of happinefs is the ftrongeft of all our 
 defires, or rather our only defire. The dread or de- 
 teftation of mifery, is either the ftrongeft, or the only 
 deteftation we have. Again there is no point, whereof 
 our underftandings are more fully convinced, than that 
 the improvement of our nature is, in proportion, ne- 
 cefTarily attended with happinefs ; and its depravity, in 
 proportion likewife, with our mifery. How comes it 
 then to pafs, that a rational being fhould ever adl; againft 
 his higheft conviftion, his ftrongefl: defire, his deepeft 
 deteftation ? The truth is, he never does, he never can ; 
 and therefore in order, at leaft, to a courfe pf fuch 
 
^hc Progrefs of Man. iff 
 
 aftions, mufl: be deftitute of reafon. With this man it is 
 folly, grofs and ftupid as his own, to fpend the time in 
 arguing ; but, to fuch as have (till fome ufe of their un- 
 derftandings, what hath been faid on this important fub- 
 jeft, may do fome good. 
 
 God, in his infinite goodnefs, grant it may, for the 
 fake of Chrift Jefus our Saviour •, to whom, with the 
 Father, and the Holy Ghoft, be all might, majefty, 
 dignity, and dominion, now, and for evermore. Amen, 
 
 P I Ss 
 
[218] 
 
 #■ , I I l| ' M il I III i 1 I I ■ I II I ! ' - I 1 . 
 
 i:)lSCOURSE XIII. 
 
 Who are Idolaters. 
 
 St, Matthew iv. lo. 
 
 ^hou fialt worfJoip the Lord thy Gody and him onlf 
 Jhalt thou ferve. 
 
 \ 
 
 "¥" "^ TT ore apt to be ftruck with horror and aftonifh- 
 
 y iTiCnt, when we find, in profane hiftory as well 
 as Scripture, that fo many nations of the world 
 worfliiped a multitude of gods j that fome paid divine 
 honours to men, often to the worft of men ; that others 
 took beafts, and creeping things, and even plants, for 
 gods •, and that they facrificed to them, feared them, put 
 their truft in them, fought, and frequently died for them. 
 We are amazed, that reafonable creatures fhould be fo^ 
 exceflively ftupid. We cannot tell how to account for 
 it, that he, who was ingenious enough to make a mofl 
 admirable image of a man, fhould have fo little fenfe, as 
 to take that image, which he himfelf had made out of a 
 piece of timber, a mafs of metal, or a rude ftone, for a 
 god, and fall down to worfhip it. We are ftill more 
 furprifed, that the greatefl hiftorians fhould write, and 
 the wifefl philofophers reafon, and the mofl exalted poets 
 ling, of fuch manufactures, as real gods. 
 
 The mofl ignorant among us entertains a fettled con- 
 tempt for folly fo grofs and blind j and yet the wifeft 
 
Who are IdoJators. 219 
 
 either does not fee, or is not greatly offended at, the 
 fame ftupid impiety in himfelf and others, who pafs for 
 Chriftians. The artful enemy of mankind, being no 
 longer able to feduce us from the true God, by gods of 
 wood and ftone, hath neverthelefs found means to keep 
 up, even among Chriftians, the worfhip of thofe other 
 idols, riches, pleafure, power, &c. by which he endaved 
 the heathen world as miferably, as by his Jupiters^ his 
 Baals, his JJiaroths •, though the worfhip of the former 
 is as feverely forbidden in holy Scripture. 
 
 When we fpeak as Chriftians, what is it we mean by 
 God ? Is it not that Being, on whom we abfolutely de- 
 pend ; whom we regard as the beft, the moft excellent, 
 the moft powerful, of all beings ; that Being, whom to 
 enjoy is the greateft happinefs, and whom to be feparated. 
 from, is the greateft mifery ; that Being, whom all our 
 thoughts, our hopes, and fears, are employed about ; 
 whom we love and truft to above all things ; who all our 
 anxieties and labours are laid out for ; and for whom we 
 are willing, on all occafions, to hazard, and, on many, 
 to facrifice our lives ? 
 
 A man may profefs in words what he will, and call his 
 God by what name he pleafes *, but we fee by fafls, a 
 fqrer teftimony than words, that whatfoever being any 
 man regards in this manner, is really and truly his god ; 
 for he fets it higheft in his heart, he prefents it with 
 the firft fruits of his affections, he offers it his richefi: 
 facrifices. 
 
 Chrift fums all our duty to God in the love of him.' 
 When we do not love God, we fail of this duty entirely. 
 When we love and admire anything elfe more than him, 
 we advance an inferior being above him in our hearts ; 
 and, if this inferior being ftiould be his enemy, as the 
 pomps of the world, or the lufts of the flefh, we then 
 Seclare open war with him ; we have then another mafter» 
 another leader, another dependence, another love -, nay, 
 an oppofite god j for that which is firft and higheft with 
 us, is our god. 
 
 He who does not love God, does he not deny his per- 
 led^ionj hjs beauty's his excellenccj and hia goodnefs ? He 
 
22 o ^ho are Idolators. 
 
 who does not truft in God, does he not deny his truth, 
 and doubt his promifes ? He who does not fear God, does 
 he not deny, or at leaft difbelieve, his power and juftice? 
 He who does not love, fear, and depend, on God, is an 
 atheift. But he who loves, fears, or depends, on any 
 thing more than him, is an idolator in the fight of God ; 
 for the mere outward fliew and ceremony of bending the 
 I^nee to him, and calling him his God, will be infinitely 
 farther from paffing for real worfhip on the Searcher of 
 hearts, than fuch complimental refpeds would, for real 
 efteem, on men, who fee little farther than the outfides 
 of things. 
 
 One would be apt, at firfl: hearing of the command- 
 ment, forbidding us to have any other, but the true 
 God 5 and of this in my text, charging us to worlhip and 
 ferve him only -, to imagine them unneeeflary in this age 
 and country, where the worfhip of the one true God is fo 
 univerfally profefTed, and that of other gods fo utterly 
 difowned. But upon more attentively comparing the com- 
 mandment with the general praflice, we find, it is flill 
 abfolutely neceflfary to us. Love and reverence mufl ever 
 be paid, in the higheft degree, to that which we conceive 
 to be moft excellent, and to have the greateft power to 
 help us, and make us happy. Now, although in reafon- 
 ing and fpeculation, we always give the preference of ex- 
 cellence and power to God, yet in pradtice we are too 
 often found to do otherwife j for our deceitfijl hearts im- 
 pofe on us, and draw away our love and reverence to 
 other things. We have man,y objects of our love and 
 regard, which we think more of, which we labour more 
 about, which we put more trull in, than in the God of 
 heaven. All true fervice of God is comprehended in this, 
 that we give our whole hearts to God, that we love him 
 above all things, that we trufl in him before all things, 
 that, in fhort, we we love the Lord our God with all our 
 hearts^ and with all our foul^ and with all our mind •, and 
 all idolatry in this, that we place our greateft affe<5lion, 
 and repofe our higheft truft, in any thing elfe. 
 
 It is equally offenfive to God, and fatal to ourfelves, 
 thus to difpoffefs God of our hearts, ^nd fet yp any of 
 
 iiiS- 
 
TFho are Idolaters. Hi 
 
 his creatures in his place, What is it to God, whether 
 that, which we prefer before him. Is the fun, the foul of 
 a departed conqueror, or fome of thofe worldly enjoy- 
 ments, which he hath affigned to man as his portion, as 
 his fervant, not as his mafter and God, in this life ? God 
 is not more jealous of one objed than another, when it 
 prefumes to rival, or ftand before him, in our affedions. 
 If he be deprived of his natural and eternal right to reign 
 over our hearts, it matters not what that is, for the fake of 
 which we offer him fo provoking an affront, fo grievous 
 an injury. And it is of the fame unhappy and fatal con- 
 fequence to us -, for be it what it will, it equally ferves to 
 Taife the jealoufy and anger of Almighty God againft us ; 
 to cut us off from the fountain of all good -, to turn 
 away our hearts from the love and enjoyment of that ob- 
 ject, in comparifon of which, all other objefls are foul 
 and vile, are little and contemptible, to the laft degree ; 
 and, when fet up in oppofition to him, become the occa- 
 fion of infinite difappointment, and of irretrievable mifery 
 to us. 
 
 This reafoning, fo clear and convincing in itfelf, is 
 further confirmed to us by the language of holy Scripture. 
 Covetoufnefs is there exprefly called idolatry ; and the belly^ 
 or gluttony, is alfo faid to be the god of fome. Now, 
 we are not to think that Mammon and the belly only can 
 give the name of idolators to their worfhipers. Any 
 other creature, too fondly defired, or too earneftly pur- 
 fued, can do the fame, and for the very fame reafon ; 
 that is, can eftrange the heart from God, and carry it off 
 to things that have from themfelves no right to our re- 
 gard ; becaufe, whatever aptnefs they may have to benefit 
 or hurt us, they receive it from God alone. They are 
 but our fellow-creatures at befl, and mofl of them put in 
 fubjeftion to us. How then can we think of enflaving 
 ourfelves to them ? They are but the inftruments of Pro- 
 vidence. The light of the fun, for inftancc, is not more 
 the gift of God, than riches, power, or any other worldly 
 pofieffion. The good we receive from the one is wholly 
 the gifc of God, as wfll as that which we derive from the 
 other. God can, if he pleafes, caufe them to become 
 
 the 
 
a 2 tVho are tdolaUn. 
 
 the inftruments of evil -, and no doubt thofe turn them 
 into- the occafions of their own eternal ruin, who fufFer 
 their afFedions to reft in them, and do not carry forward 
 their gratitude and love to God, who made and bcftows 
 them on us. . God manifefts his love to us through them ; 
 and (hall we center all our love in his benefits, and forget 
 our benefaflor ? Ought we not rather to make thofe ef- 
 fefts of God's goodnefs to us the caufes and incitements 
 of our gratitude to him ? It is our greateft unhappinefs, 
 that in thefe very cords of love, with which God intends 
 to draw up our hearts to him, we fhould fo entangle our- 
 felves, as to become incapable of all motion and tendency 
 towards him. 
 
 There is but one Supreme Being, who is God over all^ 
 who hath power in himfelf to make, and to deftroy, to 
 raife up and to throw down, to bring good or evil on 
 mankind. It is evident therefore, that there is but that 
 one Being, whom every rational creature ought to love, 
 reverence, and confide in, with all his heart, and with all 
 his foul ; that is, whom he ought to worfhip and ferve as 
 God. 
 
 Shall a Chriftian now, who fays he is fenfible of all this, 
 defpife the pagan for praying to a mortal man, who is dead 
 and cannot help him -, to a carved image, that cannot hear 
 him -, or to a brute, which God and nature have put in 
 fubjeftion to him •, yet place his greateft confidence, his 
 higheft efteem, his warmeft affection, on wealth, honour, 
 power, or pleafure ? Are not thefe idols of the pretended 
 Chriftian as vain in" themfelves, and as odious in the fight 
 of God, as thofe of the pagan ? Or is the fcrvice of them 
 the more tolerable for its being paid by one who pro- 
 feffes the worfhip and fervice ot the true God only ? If 
 Gur empty profefTions can do any thing, it is only to make 
 the idolatrous alienation of our hearts the more provoking. 
 To reduce our worihip to mere words and compliments, 
 contradided by all our adions, is but to mock and banter 
 the objed of that pretended worfhip. Men of common 
 fenfe, as they eafily fee through, fo they always refent 
 with the keeneft indignation, a condud fo difingenuous, 
 when offeted to themfelves. Nov/, if fuch a practice will 
 
 not 
 
Who are Idolators. 225 
 
 not pa6 on men, who fee only the outfides of things, 
 how will it pafs on the awful Searcher of hearts ? He 
 who gives his tongue to God, and his heart to the things 
 of this world, is both an hypocrite and an idolater. That 
 many among us do neverthelefs look on thcfe as the fu- 
 preme good, as the moft neceffary things, the moft ami- 
 able, and the moft capable of making them happy, and 
 therefore worfhip them as their gods, is evident ; 
 
 Firft, From the great anxiety of their hearts about 
 them ; which makes it plain that they are uppermoft in 
 all their thoughts. For thefe they deprive themfelves of 
 jpeace and contentment ; of peace with God, with man, 
 and with their own confciences -, and of contentment in 
 fuch circumftances, as might afford them all the real 
 comforts of life. For thefe they are day and night on 
 the rack of a thoufand vehement defires, and contrary 
 paffions, and impradlicable or dangerous fchemes. If 
 their deities do but fmile on them, how are they tranf- 
 ported ! If they frown, how are they dejefted and over- 
 whelmed ! This excefiive anxiety, this unintermitting 
 love, this preference of what they purfue to every thing 
 elfe, to their eafe, and fafety, and real happinefs, fhews 
 but too plainly what is their god. 
 
 Secondly, Their unwearied labours after the poffeffions, 
 or honours, or pleafures of the world, fliew more evi- 
 dently, than even their tranfports of joy and forrow, 
 which are difcoverable only by their outward effects, 
 where their worfhip is fixed. No man labours for what 
 he neither loves nor efteems. Every one labours moft for 
 that which he fets the higheft regard on. It follows, there- 
 fore, that when we fee a man negleft all other concerns, 
 to kt forward and accomplilh one particular defign ; when 
 we fee it takes up all his thoughts, is perpetually in his 
 mouth, exercifes not only his brain, but his feet, his 
 hands, his whole body, in fuch exceffive labours by 
 night, and by day, over hills and dales, through land 
 and fea, as one would think it almoft impoffible for hu- 
 man nature to undergo, we may conclude he thinks ic 
 the moft excellent of all things, the fupreme good. 
 
 But 
 
'224 1^1)0 are Idolators. 
 
 But, thirdly, The dangers he faces for that which he is 
 in purfuit of, fiiew, to demonftration, what is his god. 
 He will (land the mark of all the mufketry and cannon 
 of a great army, for ten hours, to recommend himfelf to 
 the favour of his deity. He will place himfelf on a plank, 
 and let the winds and waves whirl him about, like a ftraw, 
 while death prefents itfelf to his aftonifhed heart in the 
 mod hideous forms ; he will roafl himfelf to a cinder in 
 the furnace of a burning climate, and afterwards freeze 
 to an icecicle in a cold one, to get a little nearer to the 
 objedl of all his wifhes. After feeing him do all this, 
 we need not afk him what is his god. 
 
 And if we may judge of the zeal and devotion, where- 
 with he worlhips, by the greatnefs and expence of the 
 facrifices he offers, he is, beyond all queftion, the moft 
 furious zealot for his god, that can be conceived. Other 
 bigots, along with fome cool prayers, offer a ram, a 
 goat, a bullock, or it may be a hundred bullocks at once. 
 But this is nothing : The worlhiper I am fpeaking of 
 offers up all the real comforts of life, and throws in his 
 honour, and his confcience, if thofe be any thing, to 
 make his facrifice the more perfeft. Another man per- 
 haps offers up his child, his only and beloved fon, the 
 comfort of his life, and the prop of his old age : But this 
 !€ only a trifle : Our devotee facrifices himfelf, facrifices his 
 life, and his foul to his god •, and burns himfelf on a 
 fiercer fire than ever was kindled to Molock ; I mean that 
 fire, which is fed in this life with flaming lufts and raging 
 paffions, and turns in the next to inextinguifhable brim- 
 itone. 
 
 And do thefe deities deferve fuch prodigious fervices 
 and facrifices ? 
 
 To begin with riches : Are they the fupreme good ? 
 Can they fave us from ficknefs or death ? Can they deli- 
 ver us from eternal mifery ? Or can they purchafe us the 
 joys and glories of heaven ? If they cannot, the worldling 
 pays too dearly for them. Is he fure, after all his pains 
 to obtain them, that he fhall fucceed ? Or, if he is fure of 
 this, is he certain they will ftay with him ? May they not 
 make themfelves wings and fly away? Or, if they do day, 
 
 will 
 
Who are Idolators. 22^ 
 
 Will they defend him from all dangers, and make him 
 happy ? No : they are the very root of all coil. They 
 will fwell him with pride. They will drown him in lux- 
 ury. They will afflift him with ficknefs, and haften his 
 death. They will lead him out of the narrow path, into 
 the broad way of this world. They are hard to be ac- 
 quired, harder flill to be kept, and thofe who do keep 
 them, are expofed to envy, and fraud, and robbery ; they 
 are expofed to what is worfe, their own eternal anxiety 
 and fears. Nay, it often happens, that when there is no 
 thief to pillage them, they by their own penury effedually 
 plunder themfelves ; when there is no invader to murder 
 them for what they polTefs, they fometimes turn their paf- 
 fion into diftraftion, lay violent hands on themfelves, and 
 die martyrs at laft to their god. 
 
 As to honour or praiie, which is the idol of {o many 
 weak and empty people, what is it ? It is compounded 
 of the vanity, with which the felf-conceited heart feeds 
 itfelf, and of the praifes of others. Is the being well 
 fpoken of fuch a mighty matter ? Does it much concern 
 us what either the fool thinks, or the flatterer fays, of us? 
 No : but, in order to mend the compliment paid us, we 
 are apt to think him neither fool, nor knave, who makes 
 it. But let him be what he will, can the opinion of an- 
 other give us a better opinion of ourfelves, than we had 
 before ? Or are we fo very modeft as to need it ? Can 
 others difcover thofe beauties and excellencies in us, which 
 Iharp-fighted vanity cannot fee ? Or can the miftaken 
 efteem, or the falfe applaufe, of the world, refute to us 
 the inward reproaches of our own hearts and confciences? 
 Does our happinefs fubfift on the mere breath of the 
 crowd ? The truth is, no one was ever very defirous of 
 praife, who had worth enough to deferve it. 
 
 He who places his joy in admiring himfelf j who have- 
 ing no other, turns his own flatterer, does but fet up an 
 idol of himfelf, and not his true felf, for his god. Thofe 
 pagans, who worlhiped the image of an hero, or pub- 
 lic benefaftor, had more to fay for their religion, than 
 this idolator, who adores, we may venture to fay, one of 
 the fillieft and moft worthlefs animals in the creation, as 
 
 Vol. II. Q^ ridi- 
 
2 26 tP'ho are Idolaters, 
 
 ridiculous and naufeous to every body elfe, as the deified 
 monkies and garlick of the Egyptians. 
 
 Honour is but an airy and notional Divinity. Is power 
 more real and folid ? Power is, for the moft part, defired 
 chiefly for the fake of honour ; and when it is, is efteemed 
 as much inferior to it, as the means are to the end. 
 Power is the moft difficult of all acquifitions, and the 
 moft troublelome of all pofieflions. There is generally 
 no ftruggling up to it in time of peace, without fuch 
 bafe means, and fervile arts, as it is furprifmg the proud, 
 and the ambitious, can ever prevail on themfelves to ftoop 
 to. And what is it they ftruggle for ? Why, to ftand on 
 a pinacle, expofed to the fame arts incefiantly employed 
 to bring them down. There is no arriving at power by 
 the fword, without undergoing toils, and being expofed 
 to dangers, which no man in his fenfes could think of en- 
 countering for the fake of any thing, lefs than God and 
 heaven. The great ones laugh at the little man, who, 
 with high ambition, afpires to the dignity of a fub{herifF*s 
 rod, or a conftable's ftafif ; yet their paflion and his are 
 the fame, and the end they aim at no way different. He 
 is as vain in his place, and better pleafed with it, than 
 Alexander the Great with his vaft dominion. And now 
 we have mentioned this moft powerful prince, he will ferve, 
 better than any other, to exemplify the vanity of ambition 
 and worldly dominion in all men ; for none can hope to go 
 higher than he did ; none indeed, but a madman, can 
 - expedt to rife to any thing like the power and grandeur 
 he arrived at. What countries did Alexander conquer ? 
 How long did he reign ? What became of him and his 
 power .? He conquered but a fmall fpot on a Httle ball of 
 earth •, and, when he was very young, the juice of a few 
 grapes, trod but a little before by the feet of a poor la- 
 bourer, went boldly up to him, in the midft of all his 
 guards, his armies, his power ; dragged him from his 
 throne, and threw him into a ditch. Why did not his 
 god, whom he had facrified fo many human victims to, 
 and for whom he had fo often expofed himfelf, deliver 
 him irom this contemptible enemy ? Power Could not 
 make good, what it had fo long promifed him ; all it 
 
 could 
 
IF ho ay-e Idol at or s» 2 2/ 
 
 tbuld gather, to give him contentment from {o many 
 glorious victories, was jiill fo much wine as was fufficient 
 to deliver him from the load his fuccefsful ambition had 
 laid upon him. Wherein then does the grandeur of tjiis 
 world confift ? It is much the fame as that of the moft 
 confiderable bee in an hive, or the ftrongeft reptile in a 
 bed of ants. It is but a poor ambition, that hath bounds. 
 That of Alexander and Ccefar had none. How did they 
 laugh at the low-fpirited aims of fuch as afpired to fome 
 office under them, perhaps to be the fervant of their fer- 
 vants, in a fuccelTion of many degrees, down to the 
 meaneft officer in their courts or armies 1 In what a con- 
 temptible light does all fubordinate ambition appear, when 
 that of the greatefl conquerors that ever lived, fliews it- 
 felf to be fo very low, fo very little, in the eye of found 
 reafon I 
 
 As to pleafure, he who makes that his god, Ihould 
 have, one would think, a very indulgent deity of it. 
 The cafe is however quite othcrwife. There is not a fe- 
 verer, nor a more dreadful devil to ferve, in all the re- 
 gions of darknefs. The enjoyments, with which he tempts 
 filly people into his fervice, are trifling to the lafl degree, 
 and continue but for a moment ; for human nature is, by 
 its wife Author, greatly iVmted and bounded on the fide 
 of fenfual pleafure. And what follows thefe momentary 
 dreams of deHght ? Why, fudden fhame, grievous dif- 
 appointment, intolerable remorfe, painful ficknels, fbock- 
 ing death. No fort of flave hath fo bad a time of it, or 
 fuffersfo much, as the man of pleafure. The fow, and he, 
 may be almoft faid to mefson the fame difh, which, when 
 they have finilhed, they roil themfelves on a dunghill, 
 think of nothing above it, and lofe themfelves in filth and 
 ftupidity, till they are roii fed to the Jlaughter -, and the 
 knlfe^ or the dart, Jlr ikes through the liver. 
 
 Are thefe thy gods, O Chrillian ? O vain, pretended 
 Chriftian ? Thefe! which you renounced, v/hen you took 
 on you the profefiion of a Chrillian ! But it now appears, 
 your baptifmal covenant is foigot and neglecfted, as an 
 empty ceremony. The word of God too is as little let 
 by, where thefe things are fo often, and in fo ftrong 
 
 Q^ 2 terms. 
 
2 28 Who are Idolaiors. 
 
 terms, rcprefented as the enemies of God and your foulj 
 as the fprings of all evil, as the fnares of the devil, as vanity 
 and vexation of fpirit. Confefs the truth ; does not your 
 experience fully prove the fame thing to you ? Have you 
 been yet able to raife yourfelf to fuch a fortune, to fuch 
 honours, power, or pleafures, as can fatisfy you, or pay 
 you for the labour, and vexation, they coft you ? Or, if 
 you have, how long, think you, will you be able to con- 
 tinue in the enjoy met of them ? A few years muft infal- j 
 libly tear you from them, ^hou fool^ perhaps this night 
 thy foul fhall be required of thee. Can thefe things de- 
 fend you againft the changes of fortune, againft unhappy 
 accidents, againft the flings of confcience, or ficknefs, or 
 death ? Are you fure they can deliver you out of the hands 
 of the living God, from whom you have revolted, to 
 ferve thefe vanities ? But you will fay, I know all this, 
 and do neither reft in the riches, or pomps, or pleafures, 
 of the world ; I do not worlhip them, nor fet them above 
 God in my affedions •, but however find it neceflary, 
 while I am here, to make fome provifion for a competent 
 and decent fubfiftence. Do not deceive yourfelves, nor 
 mock God. Since you give incomparably more of your 
 thoughts and labours to the world, than to God, it is too 
 evident, that the world is uppermoft in your heart. Do 
 you labour whole days, do you rife up early , and late take 
 rej}, for God, as you do for the bread of affli^ion? Do 
 you ever fpend a whole week in fettling a fpiritual account ? 
 Do you make laborious journies, do you take long voy- 
 ages, do you fight dangerous battles, for God ? Recolledl 
 how often you, who have endured with patience the 
 kneeneft feverity of the weather, and faced outrageous 
 ftorms in the purfuit of worldly things, have been kept 
 back from the worfhip of God by a cold day, or a flight 
 fliower, and you will then perceive, whether it is God or 
 the world that holds the firft place in your heart. Did 
 you give to God and religion the tenth part of that care 
 and anxiety, which you lavifh on the world, you would 
 ftand with the foremoft of the faints in God's fervice ; 
 the exercife of private devotion would not feem fo irkfome 
 to you, as it does ; nor would it be fo hard a matter to 
 
 draw 
 
Who are Ido1ators» 229 
 
 draw you to God*s houfe, or table ; you would need no 
 compulfton to bring you in. 
 
 As to that which you call by the name of competency 
 and decency, words big with deceit, ought it not to have 
 fome bounds ? And are you not yet fenfible you have {qI 
 no bounds to your defire of riches, to your third of ho- 
 nour and power, to your appetite of pleafures ? Do you 
 not ftill go on, defiring more, and aiming at greater 
 matters ? Or do you hope ftill to perfevere, labouring 
 with fo great anxiety to fecure a greater intereft in worldly 
 things, and at the fame time to be acceptable to God ? 
 Vain imagination ! Tou cannot ferve God and Mammon. 
 The moment you cleave to the latter, the moment you 
 cut yourfelf off from God, who places too high an efteem 
 upon your affections to endure to be rivalled in them, 
 efpecially by fo infamous and odious a rival. Think not, 
 becaufe the love you beftow on, and the confidence you 
 repofe in, thefe enemies to God, are not called idolatry 
 by the world, which never gives the right names to its 
 own crimes, that they are therefore the lefs properly and 
 truly idolatrous. I have given, I think, fufficient reafons 
 to prove, that they really are -, but what at leaft ought 
 to convince you, is, that God, who cannot lie, hath in 
 his word called them by that name. 
 
 This, I know, is a fubjeft, on which you do not care 
 for thinking clofely, and therefore have formed but con- 
 fufed and unaffedling notions about it. But confider, that 
 God is not a man that he (hould be deceived ; and furely 
 no fenfible man, who had a right to your fervices or 
 friendlliip, would be fatisfied with a thoufand profeflions, 
 if he faw by your actions, that you had little or no regard 
 for him. Now, God is wifer than man, and fees into 
 your heart •, and, as he hath the double right of a Maker 
 and a Saviour to all the honour you can do him, and all 
 the fervices you can pay him, you may take it for granted, 
 that a cold or outward (hew of worfhip will be far from 
 fatisfying him, efpecially when he fees you joining your- 
 felf to his enemies, and putting your chief truft in them. 
 Confider with yourfelf, how odious in the fight of God 
 thefe objefls are, that make you fo inattentive to his 
 
2'.t JVho (ire Idcktors, 
 
 word, fo deaf to the advice of his minifters, fo forgetful 
 of all his tender mercies, and alluring judgments. Re- 
 fleft how often thefe rivals of God have with-heid you 
 from his honfe and table, thofe outward figns, by which 
 you hope to fnew you are his worfhipers •, and how often, 
 when you are perfuaded, or compelled to come in, they 
 attend you to the place of worfhip, engage your thoughts 
 even there, and intercept that application of the heart, in 
 which confifbs the very natuie and being of adoration, and 
 turn it downward from God to thofe vanities, which, as 
 they engrolTed your hearts on other occafions, cannot be 
 kept at a diftance on this. 
 
 The profits, and honours, and pleafures of this world, 
 are but the inferior deities, through which the god of this 
 world maintains his correfpondence v/ith your imagination, 
 your miftaken notions, and lufts *, and, by means of that 
 deceitful intercourfe, feduces you to the difl:ionourable wor» 
 iliip and fervice of himfelf. When you confider, that he 
 is a fallen angel, an enemy to God and your foul, (hocking 
 in his perfon and nature, and infinitely mllchievous m his 
 defigns, you utterly abhor the leafi; thought of worfliiping 
 him, or entering into any league or combination with him. 
 It is for this reafon, that he does not appear, and openly 
 Ibllicit your devotion -, but keeps behind the curtain, and 
 plays fuch engines on you, as are lefs apt to excite your 
 fuipicion or averfion. It is through thefe that he efta- 
 blifhes his power over you ; and it was by thefe, that, with 
 infinite impudence, he attempted to feduce the human na- 
 ture of Chrifl himfelf. He poeived him all the kingdoms of 
 the earthy and [aid unto bim^ All thefe things will I give 
 unte thee^ if thou wtlt fall dczvn and worfhip me \ but he 
 was anfwered by infinite wifdom^, in the words of my text; 
 'Thou jhalt -joorjhip the Lord thy God, and him only fhalt 
 thou ferve. 
 
 When he fets forward any of thefe tempting objeds to 
 Cnfnare us, let us confider, that it is only his nnage; 
 that he lurks within it, and gives it by far the greater 
 part of its bewitching allurements •, kindles up the beauty 
 of the lewd woman ; teaches tlie wine to move itfelf 
 aright 'in ths glafs^ and exalts its fpirits ; gives the high 
 
 feafoning 
 
Who are Idolators, 2 % r 
 
 feafoning to the luxurious difli, the proud fplendor to the 
 gay cloaths, the tempting brightnefs to the gold, the 
 pomp and grandeur to worldly power. Thefc things 
 have, in themfelves, but feeble attra6lions for rational 
 fouls, before whofe eyes religion hath placed the glories of 
 heaven, and who, if they examine the beft things this 
 world can promife them, with but a fmall degree of care 
 and fairnefs, can difcover that they are all only outward 
 Ihew, all vanity and vexation^ the furniture only of an 
 inn, where we cannot ftay ; the ornaments of a country, 
 through which we are forced, by an happy neceffity of 
 nature, to ride poft. How comes it then that they find 
 means to draw after them the hearts of almoft all man- 
 kind ? There is, there muft be, fome diabolical delufion 
 at the bottom. Since nature does not fit them for fo great 
 an influence over us, and fince reafon and religion do fuf- 
 ficiently teach us the nature of things about us, as far as 
 we are concerned to know them, thefe things, which 
 work upon us beyond the force of their own natural pow 
 ers, and contrary to the diftates of our reafon, lead us, 
 as it were, with our eyes open, to our eternal ruin, muft 
 borrow the power by which they tyrannize over us from 
 the gcd of this worlds who hath blinded the eyes of them 
 ivho believe noty and greatly dimmed the light of many, 
 who do. 
 
 It would be happy for us if we could, while Ibme part 
 of life is yet left us, and a return to God would not be 
 altogether unacceptable, open our eyes, and fee through 
 the painted ruin, the gilded deftrudtion, into which we 
 are betrayed. If we do it not now, when life is near a 
 dole, ere death has lifted the lad fatal blow, we lliall 
 then too late perceive how miferably we have been im- 
 pofed on, how foolifhly zve have laboured for the wind. 
 Then we ihall be forced to cry out. Vanity of vanities! 
 all is vanity ! What profit hath a man of all his labour^ 
 which he taketh under the fun ? What hath pride profited 
 us ? Or what good hath riches^ with our vaunting^ brought 
 us? All thefe things, which feemed fo fubftantial, are 
 paffing away like a floadow^ and as a poft that hafteth by ; 
 like a fijip that leaves no trace of its keel in the waves. Our 
 
 Q^ 4 hope 
 
232 Who are Idohtors, 
 
 hope is like dufi that is blown aivay by the wind ; like a 
 thin frothy that is driven away with a ftorm •, like as the 
 fmoke^ which is difperfed here and there with a tempejiy 
 and paffeth away like the remembrance of a guefi that tar- 
 rieth but a day. Surely we have inherited lies^ vanity^ and 
 things wherein there is no profit. We have made unto our- 
 felves gods, and they were no gods. Alas ! that which 
 we loved hath brought mifery upon us, and that which we 
 irufted in hath betrayed us. 
 
 Let us, to conclude, turn from thefe vanities, in which 
 we fometime walked, and whereof we ought now, in 
 the light of the Gofpel, to be afliamed ; and let us feek 
 the true and only God. He is the fountain of all being, 
 the abfokite ruler of all nature ; to him therefore fhould 
 all thinking beings turn their whole attention, and, fix- 
 ing all their love and reverence on him, as on the centre 
 ol charity, as on the difpenfer of happinefs, and the fource 
 of glory, fhould make him the firft objed of all their af- 
 feftions, the firft mover of all their thoughts, the end of 
 all their defigns, the utmoft aim of all their wilhes, the 
 perfedion and confummation of all their enjoyments. He 
 is great, he is God alone. He only is to be feared, and 
 what is there that we Jbould defire in compartfon of him? 
 What is there fit to come between God and the heart of 
 man ? Is any thing fo beautiful, fo excellent, fo glorious, 
 as he ? Hath any other being done fo much to engage 
 our love as he ? Can we hope for fo kind a friend, for 
 fo powerful a protector, in any thing, as in him ? Can 
 the enjoyment of all his creatures raife our fouls to plea- 
 fures fo exquifite, to delights fo lading, as the enjoyment 
 of God ? What is earth to heaven, or heaven itfelf to 
 God ? Shall then the riches, the honours, the pleafures, 
 of this world, Jhall death or life, fhall angels, or princi- 
 palities, or powers, or things prefent, or things to come, 
 cr height, or depth, or any other creature, be able to fe- 
 parate us from the love of God, which is in Chrifi Jefus 
 6ur Lord. 
 
 No : Let us therefore no longer give the honour of 
 
 God to his enemies, to mere imaginary hopes, and vain 
 
 defires, of that which is either impoflible to be obtained, 
 
 6 or. 
 
Who are IJolaiors. 235 
 
 or, if obtained, would make us miferable ; and kt us 
 afcribe unto the Lord the honour due unto his name ; 
 let us bring prefents, and come into his courts. But what 
 prefent fhall we bring to him, who made and polTefics all 
 things ? The prefent of an heart entirely his j an heart, 
 not fhamefully divided between him and the world, but 
 emptied of all earthly vanities, and filled with God, 
 
 But, O good God, as the foul of man, clogged with 
 a load of flefh and blood, is unable to climb to thee, 
 ftretch out thy almighty hand, and draw us upward ; pu- 
 rify our hearts, that they may become acceptable temples 
 for thy Holy Spirit ; then enter Thou, and make us 
 wholly thine for ever ; through the merits and mediation 
 of Chrift Jefus our Saviour ; to whom, with Thee, and 
 the ever bleffed Spirit, be all honour and glory, all wor- 
 (hip and dignity, all might, majefty, and dominion, in 
 earth, as in heaven, now, and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 D I S- 
 
C 234 ] 
 
 DISCOURSE XIV. 
 
 Spiritual Light and Darknefs. 
 
 Romans xiii. ii. 
 Now it is high time to awake out of Jleep, 
 
 MAN comes into the world, totally ignorant of all 
 things, and afterwards acquires knowlege, fancied 
 or real, imperfefc or ufeful, according to his capacity, 
 his application, and his opportunities. 
 
 As to the knowlege of religion, and of morality, which 
 depends abfolutely on religion, the fame is true of both. 
 We know the principles of either, only fo far as we have 
 had the benefit of good inftruftions, and according to the 
 talents and diligence we have brought with us to the en- 
 quiry. Hence it hath come to pafs, that many nations, 
 for want of proper teachers, have continued for a long 
 fucceflion of ages altogether ignorant of true religion, and 
 that even in thofe countries, where the people have been 
 beft provided with inftrudlors, a very few, through mere 
 incapacity, have lived and died in a great meafure igno- 
 rant of it i while an infinitely greater number, who had 
 natural talents fufRcient for the purpofe, having turned 
 them another way, pafTed their days in almoft as grofs 
 ignorance of this moft excellent kind of knowlege, as 
 
 they 
 
spiritual Light and Darknefs, 23^ 
 
 they could have done, had they been totally deflltute of 
 teachers. 
 
 The wiftft heathen narions knew little or nothing of 
 themfelves, whence they came, or to what end they were 
 deflined. Whether they had any being before this life, 
 or were to have any after it, they either did not enquire, 
 or could by no means determine. They feemed to rife, 
 like the brutes, out of time and matter ; and having 
 little or no profped of a future being, they hved a mere 
 animal life, and were led by fin, liice oxen, to the uni- 
 verlal flaughter made by death. 
 
 Their deepeft reafoners could never agree about the 
 chief end or happinefs of man, and therefore could never 
 fix upon the means to attain it. They difputed much 
 about morality and virtue, but could never clearly de- 
 termine, what they were ; and, what was worfe, thofe 
 of them who thought the belt on thefe points, could, 
 by no means, find out a fufficient obligauon to enforce 
 the performance of what they took to be moral duties. 
 
 Being thus ignorant of themfelves, it is not to be 
 wondered at, that they fhould have known ftill lefs of 
 God •, fome obfcure traditions, concerning a divine na- 
 ture, had been handed down to them, they knew not 
 how, which ferved them to no better purpofe, than to 
 put them upon worfhiping, fometimes by human facri- 
 fices, their departed benefactors or conquerors, who were 
 often the worft of men. To thefe they added gods of 
 wood and (tone ; nay, and while fome nations were eat- 
 ing onions and garlick, others were tranfplanting them 
 from their gardens to heaven, and cultivating them with 
 divine honours. 
 
 This ignorance of the Gentile world, which, in holy 
 Scripture, is reprefented to us by the ftrong fimilitude of 
 night and darknefs, was but in part removed from the 
 Jeuiy's by the Mofaic difpenfation -, which, being clouded 
 with ceremonies, and overlhadowed with types and 
 figures, fent forth a glimmering and feeble kind of rays, 
 Thefe ferved but as a twilight to a brighter revelation 
 by the Gofpel, which, in Scripture, is beautifully figured 
 by the names of light and day ; for ignorance and true 
 
 knovvlege 
 
236 spiritual Light and Darkncfs, 
 
 knowlcge are to the mind, what darknefs and Jigh't are 
 to the body. 
 
 This is the night which, St. Paul fays, is far fpent ; 
 and that is the day, which, he tells us, is at hand. From 
 hence he draws a fine conclufion ; Let us therefore cajl 
 off the works of darknefs, and let us put on the armour of 
 light i let us walk honeftly, as in the day. 
 
 For, by the light of the Gofpel, we can now clearly 
 fee that there is but one God, infinite in wifdom, power, 
 and juftice, infinite in mercy and goodnefs, who created 
 and governs all things, who made us for his free and 
 happy fervice, and who, when we fell into corruption 
 and fin, fent his Son into the world, to retrieve us from 
 both. By the fame light we fee how it is this great Ma- 
 iler expedis to be ferved ; how it is we are to demean 
 ourfelves, one towards another ; what it is we may hope 
 for, if v/e obey his laws ; and what we are to fear, if we 
 tranfgrefs them. We are now no longer in the dark 
 about the original from whence we fprung, nor the end 
 for which we were intended. Our greateft good and evil 
 are now fet clearly before us, with a full account of the 
 means, by which the one is to be avoided, and the other 
 obtained. We can now have a fufficient knowlege of 
 ourfelves, and can examine our being, from its beginning, 
 till we purfue it beyond the grave, till we fee it placed 
 before the judgment-feat of God, and either banifhed from 
 his prefence, into eternal night and mifery, or exalted to 
 endlefs light and glory. This important profpeft opens 
 to us another, which the light of nature could never have 
 difcovered. As man, left to himfelf, fees nothing but 
 the things about him in this prefent life, fo he cannot 
 fuppofe there is any thing elfe of the leaft confequence to 
 him. But as foon as his eyes, by Chriftian faith, are 
 carried forward to the much greater things of eternity, in 
 which he is fo deeply concerned, he looks upon the things 
 of this world in quite another light. They cannot bear 
 t'at comparilbn. They fink into nothing, and are loft to 
 his attention. Diftrefl^es and riches, pains and pleafurcs, 
 dlfappointments and honours, gaols and thrones, dwindle 
 into trifieSj when hcli and heaven are in view. 
 
 This 
 
spiritual Light and Darkncfs. 237 
 
 This is that light which the children of light are ever 
 ready to receive, with the greateft atfedion and joy. Now 
 the children of light are thofe who diligently read the 
 word of God, who make it the fubje(5t of their medita- 
 tions by day and night, who, when they find it, as often 
 they do, above their comprehenfion, repair to God*6 
 houfe and his minifters, to hear it explained ; who lifteii 
 when they are there, with attention -, who labour to re- 
 member and lay to heart what they hear ; and afterwards, 
 in converfation with one another, take frequent occa- 
 fion to revive the confideration of what they have been 
 taught. 
 
 This alfo is that lights from which the children of dark- 
 Tiefs fly away with fear and abhorrence. And the children 
 of darknefs are thofe, whofe confciences cannot bear the 
 pi6ture of themfelves, which the light of Chriftianity 
 holds before their eyes; whofe faith affords them no views, 
 but of eternal mifery ; who, as they delight only in the 
 works of darknefs, hate this light, becaufe it reproves their 
 evil deeds ; and therefore the word of God is a ftranger 
 both to their eyes at home, and their ears in this place. 
 Hence it comes, that we fo often fpeak here almoft to 
 empty walls, that what we fay is fo little minded by 
 thofe, whom the accidental goodnefs of the day, or a 
 want of fomething elfe to do, fuffers to faunter hither ; 
 and that, when we endeavour to carry the word of God 
 to them, who fo feldom think it worth their while to 
 come to it, we find them and their families fhocked and 
 difobliged, at the firft glimpfe of its light which we dif- 
 cover to them. 
 
 As this fort of people make a dreadful majority at. 
 prefent, wc may fay of this light, as St. John did, at its 
 firfl appearance, that it is a light which fhineth in dark- 
 nefs, and the darknefs comprehendeth it not. 
 
 But my bufinefs at prefent being only to fpeak to thofe 
 who will hear, who have already opened their eyes, and, 
 it is to be hoped, their hearts too, to the light of the 
 Gofpel, let me call upon fuch perfons, in the bowels of 
 charity, to confider, that, as they fee this glorious light, 
 fhining both %Yithin them and about them, // is no^:^ 
 
 high 
 
2 3 S spiritual L ighi and iDarhiefi. 
 
 high time, at lead for therrl, to awake out of Jteep. \n 
 refpeft to them, the Hight is not only far fpent^ but in- 
 tirely paft ; the day is not only at hand, but fully fifenj 
 or far advanced. Let them refleft that thofe who knQw 
 their Majier^s 'will, and do it not, muft expeft to be -pu- 
 nifhed zvith inany ftripes ; and that, now they have re- 
 ceived the light, they ought to walk worthy of that lights 
 taking all pcfTible care for the time to come ; to avoid 
 thofe works of darkriefs, which they find condemned by 
 the light of Scripture, and particularly by the Apoftle, in 
 the paflage immediately following my text. 
 
 And firfl ; as to walking worthy of this light, theApoftle 
 bids us walk honefily^ or rather, as it is in the original, 
 decently, and laudihly, as in the day. In order to this, 
 wc are exhorted by him to put on the armour of light ; 
 for as it is now day, and we are to enter upon action, as 
 we are immediately to take the field againft the enemies 
 of our fouls, it is necefTary v/e fhould be defended by the 
 armour of piety and virtue, and girded with the weapons 
 of our warfare ; which St. Paul elfewhere, purfuing the 
 fame allegory, calls the breafi-plate of faith and love^ 
 end the helmet and hope of falvation. Te, brethren-^ fays 
 the Apoftle, are not in darknefs. 7'e are all the children 
 cf light, and the children of the day ; we are not of the 
 night, nor of darknefs. Therefore let us not fleep^ as do 
 others -, but let us watch and be foher. For they that 
 fleep, fleep in the nighty and they that be drunken, art 
 drunken in the night. 
 
 Being thus prepared, we are called upon to adorn the 
 Chrifbian profefllon, by a life of true holinefs ; that others^ 
 admiring in us the beautiful and blefled fruits of our re- 
 ligious principles, may be won to an earneft defire of 
 cultivating the like in themfelves ; which will have a much 
 more powerful effeft in convincing them of the truth and 
 excellence of Chriftianicy, than ten thoufand arguments 
 and demonftrations in its favour. He who leads the beft 
 lite, is the beft difputant for his religion ; for // is 7tot 
 with int icing words of man's wifdom that this caufe of 
 God is to be fupported, but in demonftration of the Spi. 
 rit, and of power. This fplrit and power, which were 
 6 demon- 
 
spiritual Light and Darhiefs. 239 
 
 demonftrated In the days of the Apoftles by infpiratlon^ 
 by fpeaking languages which they never learned, by heal- 
 ing of ficknefies, and raifing the dead, may ftill be proved 
 by the miracle of a good hfe in every true Chriftian. Is 
 any man really a Chriftian ? Hath he received the light 
 of the Gofpel ? Let his light then fo JJjine forth before 
 men^ that they may fee his gocd ivorh^ and glorify his 
 Father which is in heaven. How can the confcience of 
 him, whofe foul and heart are placed in the midil of fo 
 clear and glorious light, give way to thoughts, or enter 
 upon a6lions, feverely reproved by that light ? Does he 
 not fee his way ? Why then does he go aftray ? Is it not 
 day ? Why then does he ftumble almoft at every ftep ? 
 Why does he fall into the grofleft afts of fin ? And dafti 
 all his hope of faivation to pieces ? 
 
 It is certainly true, that he who is really a Chriftian, 
 may, through the extreme infirmity of his nature, often 
 fall into fins, and fometimes into the grofTer a6ls of fin ; 
 but he can never reft in an uniform courfe of fin, till he 
 hath ftripped himfelf of his Chriftian principles ; nor can 
 he rife to a fteady and uninterrupted life of virtue, till he 
 hath mortified and fubdued the corruptions of his nature. 
 The Spirit warrcth againft the flefh, and the flefti againft' 
 the Spirit, till one of thofe adverfaries hath obtained an 
 abfolute conqueft over the other ; after which the v/hole 
 man becomes either the fervant of God, or the flave of 
 the devil. 
 
 In fome minds this battle is fought with infinite vio- 
 lence •, for, on the one fide, corrupdon and fin are deeply 
 rooted, while the adverlary of the foul is intrenched amidft 
 inveterate habits, and almoft irrefiftible temptations.; and, 
 on the other, the arm of God is almighty. Hence it is, 
 that, as in a fire, for fome time after a great addition of 
 new fuel, the figns of an outrag-eous ftrugcrle between 
 the contending principles are difcovered ; but when God 
 hath obtained the victory, then all is kindly heat, and 
 glorious light. Then it is that God, and his holy reli- 
 gion, are glorified, that the angels above find the very 
 joys of heaven enlarged, and that men here below, be- 
 ing guided by the light, and warmed at the fire, of this 
 
 converted 
 
240 Spiritual Light and Darhnefe. 
 
 converted fiqner, are, as it were, carried forward >vich 
 new ftrength and rcfolution, up the fteep path of true 
 holinefs. 
 
 Let us not, in the name of God, lofe the benefit of the 
 blelTed light, which he hath afforded us. As it difcovers 
 to us every ftep of the road, from thence to his glorious 
 palace, let us not be difcouraged at the thorns and briers 
 that befet the entrance ; for we may plainly fee that, a 
 little farther up, thofe briers are turn'd to vines, thofc 
 thorns change their prickles for rofes j and while the pa- 
 tience of the happy travellers is converted into joy, their 
 garments begin to whiten, their faces to (hine with amazing 
 brightnefs, and now they are loft to our fight in glory, 
 lijhich the eye is not able to behold^ nor the ear to bear, 
 nor the heart to conceive. He that hath eyes to fee, can- 
 not, amidft fo much light, fail to choofe a road that leads 
 fo direftly to God, for therein only he can walk, as in 
 the day. 
 
 But as there are many new lights, and falfe lights, 
 fet up in the world, it will not be amifs to point out to 
 the ignorant the diftinguilhing characters of the true 
 light. 
 
 Whatfoever difcovers to us the foulnefs and heinoufnefs 
 of our fins, and feverely reproves them, is true light ; for 
 whatfoever maketh manifeji is light. 
 
 Whatfoever teaches us to be cautious in giving up our 
 minds to every pretended guide in religion, who, for his 
 own intereft, would lead us into his own prejudices, is 
 true light ; for we are bid by our Saviour, of ourfelves to 
 judge what is rights to fearch the Scriptures^ and try the 
 fpirits of fuch men, as we would a tree, by their fruits. 
 
 Whatfoever pulls down our pride, teaching us to dif- 
 truft our OAvn mifguided underftandings, difperfing the 
 mift of craft and falfe knowlege, fetting us upon our 
 guard againft the didates and motions of our falfe hearts, 
 and, unmafking our deceitful pleafures, prefents them to 
 us in their own natural deformity, is light. 
 
 Whatfoever turns our minds to a clofe and diligent 
 attendance on God^s word, which is a lamp unto our feety 
 and a light unto cur paths j is itlelf alfo light. 
 
 What. 
 
spiritual "Light and Darknefs. 241 
 
 Whatfoever teaches us not to depend upon our own 
 righteoufnefs, but in a deep and true repentance, on the 
 merits and righteoufnefs of Chrifl, which is all we have 
 to plead in the fight of God, is light. 
 
 Whatfoever enables us to make true diftinftions be- 
 tween pleafure and happinefs, between want and having a 
 little, between riches and having enough, between reali- 
 ties and appearances, between a pleafing evil and a dif- 
 agreeable good, is light. 
 
 Whatfoever refines our fentiments, opens, enlarges, 
 and gives liberty to, our thoughts, ftill carrying them 
 upward to fpiritual entertainments, and rational delights, 
 fiill raifing our affections from things below^ and placing 
 them en things above^ ftill turning the attention on a fu- 
 ture life, and alarming our hopes and fears v/ith a near 
 and lively view of immortality and eternity ; this, whe- 
 ther it be affliction or meditation, whether it be the con- 
 verfation and example of good men, or whether it be the ^ 
 word and grace of God, is true hght. 
 
 From recommending it to us, to put on the armour of 
 light, and to walk as in the day, the Apoftle proceeds to 
 caution us againft an oppofite kind of courfe, exhorting 
 us to cafi off the works of darknefs, of which he mentions 
 only three. 
 
 The firft is rioting and drunkennefs, a vice that cannot 
 bear the light, nor harbour but where there is thick dark- 
 nefs, a darknefs to be felt grievoufly at laft, even by the 
 drunkard himfelf, in ficknefs and in fudden death ; or, 
 at leaft, by his unhappy family, in confufion and po- 
 verty. Where there is even natural reafon, the light is 
 too ftrong for fuch a monfter of deformity. A reafona- 
 ble foul cannot but abhor its foulnefs, and loath the fenfe- 
 lefs and low enjoyment it affords. It even feems to be 
 ienfible of its own uglinefs, and therefore always carries 
 its cloak with it. It conceals its foulnefs in the ftupidity 
 it raifes. It fcreens itfelf from fhame, by banifhing all 
 fenfe of (hame ; and is the only vice that can be faid to 
 hide in itfelf. 
 
 But if it cannot bear the ftar-light of common fenfe, 
 how fliall it endure the brightnefs of the Gofpel ? Whofe 
 
 Vol. II. R precepts 
 
i^i Spiritual Light and Dark?2efs» 
 
 precepts tend fo diredlly to refine our fenfe of pleafure, 
 to improve our underftandings, to difcountenance all in- 
 temperance, particularly this, from whence vices of all 
 other kinds, and of the blackeft nature, fuch as luft, vio- 
 lence, and murder, draw their fuel. 
 
 If he, who is drunk, looks not like a man, how fhall 
 he look like a Chriftian ! What a figure muft he make, 
 when viewed by the light of Chriflianity, whofe face, 
 pale and diftorted, refembles death ; whofe eyes goggle 
 like thofe of a fool, or ftare like thofe of a madman; 
 whofe limbs totter under his body, and whofe reafon 
 daggers under his foul ! And all this, which, if fent up- 
 on him by Providence, would feem a judgment fufficient 
 to punifh all his other fins, the effe6l of his own choice, 
 frequently his own deliberate a6l and deed, in which he 
 rejoices, in which he triumphs, as if it were a glorious 
 exploit. 
 
 It is wonderful, that fuch fights do not make more con- 
 verts to fobriety, and that what looks fo abominable and 
 fo fiiocking in others, fhould ever pleafe in ourfelves. It 
 is am.azing that creatures, who are fo unable to govern 
 themfelves, when in the enjoyment of all the little reafon 
 they have, fliould haften to firip themfelves of that litde, 
 and plunge into a condition, which, before they are tho- 
 roughly drunk, they are afiiamed to be feen in, by thofe 
 who arc not as abfolutely brutes as themfelves ; for all are 
 to be turned out of company, who will not fliake hands 
 with reafon and humanity, as well as they. This is thtit 
 darknefs, that night, of which the Apoftle fpeaks, when 
 he fays, they that be drunken, be drunken in the night ; 
 'which -night of their -pleafure fhall God, according to the 
 burden of Babylon, turn into fear : and then fhall come 
 upon them the faying of Ifaiah, Wo unto them that rife 
 up early in the morning, that they may follow flrong drink \ 
 that continue until night, till wine inflame them. W-o unto 
 them that call evil good, and good evil \ that put darknefs 
 for light, and light for darknefs. Wo unto them that are 
 mighty to drink wine, and men of flrength to mingle firong 
 drink. They may, for a time, look upon the wine when 
 it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it 
 
 moveth 
 
spiritual Light and Darknefs. 243 
 
 moveth itfelf aright. But, at the lajl, it mil hite like a 
 ferpent, and Jiing like an adder. Their eyes fiall behold 
 firange women, and their hearts Jhall utter perverfe things. 
 Tea, they Jloall be as he that lieth down in the fea, or as 
 he that lieth upon the top of a majl, They have Jiricken uSy 
 fhall they fay, and we were not ftck: they have beaten «i, 
 and we felt it not. When fhall we awake ? we will feek 
 it yet again. Yes, as the dog does his vomit ; but, how- 
 .tvtr, ye fhall perceive, at laji, that wine is a mocker^ and 
 that whofoever is deceived thereby is not wife. 
 
 The fecond work of darknefs, mentioned by St. Paul 
 in this pafifage, is chambering and wanlonnefs ; the cleaneft 
 words that could be found to exprefs a vice fo foul, that 
 is almoft impoffible to fpeak of it, or even to reprove 
 it, without exceeding the bounds of modefty. It is that 
 vice which brought fire and brimftone upon Sodom ; that 
 cut off the city of Sichem at one blow ; that made even 
 Samfon weak, David a murderer, and Solomon a fool. No 
 man was ever fo abandoned, as not to be, in fome mea- 
 fure, alhamed of it. For this reafon, and becaufe it is 
 feldom committed without an irreparable injury to others, 
 as well as to thofe who join in it, the greateft darknefs is 
 always fought for to fcreen it. It cannot bear the light 
 of the fun, or even of a candle ; much lefs that of the 
 Gofpel. But where is that dungeon or privacy to be 
 found, that can hide the committers of fuch a crime from 
 the all'fearching eye of God, to whom the darknefs and 
 light are both alike P 
 
 If hiftory is confuted, it will be found, that. this fin 
 hath proved the ruin of more great men, and powerful 
 kingdoms, than all other fins put together. If the heart 
 is examined, it will be eafily perceived, that, of all vices, 
 this finds the readied entrance, and finks the deepeft, into 
 a corrupt heart ; that it leaves the fouleft (lain, and mofl 
 obftinate habit, behind it. From whence he that is at all 
 concerned about the falvation of his foul, hath more rea- 
 fon to be alarmed at the approach of fuch a fiend, tho* 
 decked out in all the painted difguifes of harlotry, than at 
 temptations to vices, that carry their own antidote in a 
 fhocking afped. Fair and tempting as his face may feem, 
 
 R 2 there 
 
244 Spiritual Light andDarknefs, 
 
 there is not a devil in all the regions of darknefs, that 
 draws after him a more dreadful tail and fling. 
 
 In the rife, progrefs, and accomplifhment, of this 
 vice, it is altogether foul and lliocking. It draws its ori- 
 ginal from a mod deteftable pafTion. It cannot attain its 
 end without breaking through all the reftraints of con- 
 fcience, honour, modefty, religion -, without trampling 
 on the facred duty to parents, or the yet more folemn ties 
 of matrimony. And what does it end in ? In immediate 
 fliame and remorfe j often in private murders, as of 
 Uriah ; in public maflacres, as of the Hammonites -, in 
 ruinous wars, as that between the Benjamites and the other 
 tribes of Ifrael, about the Levite's concubine j and, what 
 is infinitely worfe than all, in impenitence and damnation. 
 If this be not a work of darknefs, what is ? And yet in 
 this country, which Itiles itfelf Chriflian and reformed, it 
 is in a manner tolerated by law, and openly pradlifed by 
 fome, as a genteel amufement, whWe fetch things are done 
 in fecret by others, who neverthelefs pretend to a cha- 
 rade r, as it is a Jhame to /peak of. 
 
 The laft work of darknefs mentioned by the Apoftle, 
 in the words that follow my text, is Jtrife and envying ; 
 in which though at firft there feems to be two vices ex- 
 preffed, yet, in reality, there is but one, and that is ma- 
 lice, which fhews itfelf chiefly by contention, and difcon- 
 tent at the welfare of others. As this vice never takes up 
 its abode, but in the bafeR minds, and produces, at the 
 fame time, the mofl odious effefts, he who is addi£ted to 
 it, is generally more detefted and defpifed than any other 
 man. Our minds cannot help fpurning at thofe, with the 
 greateft abhorrence, whom we find impatient at our hap- 
 pinefs, comforted with our mifery, and ever watching 
 for opportunities to do us all the mifchief they can. 
 
 And as this is the vice dire6lly oppofite to that charity, 
 which ftands at the head of the Chriftian virtues, and 
 crowns them all ; as the blelTed beings above are joined 
 together by charity, like notes in the fame harmony •, and 
 the damned by malice, like fagots in the fame fire ; fb 
 there is nothing which the fountain of all good abhors fo 
 much as the latter, nor is fo pleafed with as the former. 
 3 A 
 
spiritual Light and Darbiefs, 14^ 
 
 A vice, fo detefted by God and man, naturally ranks 
 itfelf among the blackefl works of darknefs ; and there- 
 fore lurks as deep, as it can, within the gloomy mind 
 that entertains it. However, this prevents it not from 
 venting itfelf as often as it is in his power ; and, when ic 
 does, it is like the opening of hell. Nothing but pefti- 
 leniial vapours, devouring flames, ferpents armed with 
 fire and ftings, and devils thirfting for deftrudlion, iflue 
 from it. It feeds on all the miferies it meets, and, when 
 it cannot find misfortunes fufficient to glut its infernal ap- 
 petite, it makes, and then enjoys them. It holds a gene- 
 ral intelligence, that no misfortune may pafs by unrejoiced 
 at, nor any happinefs of others untainted. It inflames old 
 quarrels, it fows the feeds of new ones. A good character 
 is that which gives it the greateft torment •, and therefore, 
 fcandal is its favourite inftrument, with which, helped out 
 by artifice and cunning, it will nurfe a groundlefs infmu- 
 ation, till it fwells to public infamy -, fo that its malicious 
 fecrets are known to ail the world, and its whifpers heard 
 at a greater diftance than thunder. Fame rejoices in be- 
 ing its handmaid, and gives ten times the breath to a fcan- 
 dal, that it does to a good report. How far is this ma- 
 lignant difpofition, fo full of rancour againft mankind, 
 and fo incapable of peace with itfelf, that unlefs it be 
 pampered with the misfortunes of others, it muft, like a 
 ftomach without food, prey upon itfelf ; how far is fuch 
 a difpofition from the affeflionate, the generous, the for- 
 giving, temper of Chriftianity ? As far as darknefs from 
 light, and hell from heaven. 
 
 3efide thefe, taken notice of by the Apoftle, there are 
 other works of darknefs, that do no lefs difhonour to the 
 profefllon of Chrifl:ianity ; fuch as luxury, which is the 
 reigning vice of the rich, who generally pafs their days in 
 a clofe application to fenfual pleafures. Thofe of them, 
 who are not chargeable with the the groflcr vices, think, 
 they may be very well allowed the eafe and plenty their 
 fortunes afford them •, and therefore they fay, with the 
 rich man in the Gofpel, Soul, thou haji much goods laid 
 up for many years ; take thine eafe, eat, drink, and be 
 merry. Thus they fettle upon their own lees^ and banifh 
 
 R 3 the 
 
24^ SpiriJual Light and Darknefs. 
 
 the fenfe of duty, and remembrance of mortality. The 
 fcreen between their fouls and religion becomes too th;ck 
 for the light to penetrate. In this ftate of mind, like the 
 gluttonous Ifraelites^ with the flefh of the quails yet un- 
 chewed between their teeth, death feizes them, and re- 
 quires thefe pampered fouls at their hands. 
 
 If matters are examined by the light of the Gofpel, 
 the rich will be found to be only the truftees and ftewards 
 of their fortunes, which were not given them by the juft 
 God to revel while others pine, and furfeit while thoi> 
 fands ftarve. We don't perceive, that the rich man in 
 the Gofpel was charged with any other crime, than making 
 this felfifh application of his wealth ; and yet we find him 
 foon after in a place of torment, miferably fuing for the 
 afliftance of that beggar, whom, a little before, he thought 
 fcarcely good company enough for his dogs. 
 
 However, the fin of luxury does not only confifl: in 
 this, that the food and cloathing of many is by opprcflion 
 colle6led, and gluttonoudy poured into one throat, or 
 oftentatioiifly fpread out upon one back ; but more efpe- 
 Cially in the violent paffions, and dctellable lufts, that are 
 either raifed or inflamed by luxury, as if by the mouth 
 of hell. What a figure does this monfter make, with 
 its horrid fpawn, when viewed by the light of God's 
 word ! 
 
 Another work of darknefs is fraud and treachery. This 
 vice requires a great degree of darknefs, both within and 
 about the wretch that is guilty of it ; for where there is 
 any light within, it is too ugly to be admitted ; and where 
 there is any without, it cannot be executed. Notwith- 
 ftanding all that is faid againfl it in Scripture, what infi- 
 nite fwarms of people are there, who build their hopes 
 and fortunes on no other foundation -, infomuch that the 
 moft prudent man in his dealings knows not whom to 
 truft. The word or promife of a man paffes for nothing ; 
 nay, the long formalities of deeds, and the mofl wary 
 precautions of bonds, with all the infinite volumes of the 
 law, are, on many occafions, found too weak preferva- 
 tives of juftice, often become the very inftruments oi\ 
 fraud. One could hardly imagine human nature capable 
 
 ef 
 
spiritual Light and Darknrfs, ' 247 
 
 of contrafling a fondnefs for fo bafe a vice ; and yet we 
 every day fee thofe, who could more eafily and certain!/ 
 attain their ends by honeft means, choofing to truft to 
 the fuccefs of fome pitiful trick, or low evafion -, and, 
 what is ftill more furprifing, we fometimes find this fore 
 of people, for lack of others to impofe on, adually cheat- 
 ing themfelves, as if they were afraid of lofing the goodly 
 knack for want of pra6lice. 
 
 He who is intent on raifing and enriching himfelf, at 
 the expcnce of others, by indireft means, as he takes his 
 meafures in the dark, obferves not the rifque he himfelf 
 runs, by walking without light. He is but a more de- 
 cent fort of thief, who is generally betrayed, by that 
 very night, to which he trufts the fuccefs of his crime. 
 With all his cunning, he will find at laft, perhaps indeed 
 a little too late, that one, more artful than himfelf, hath 
 been all the time pradtifing upon him ; and hath, while 
 he was cheating others out of worldly trifles, cheated him 
 out of his foul i fo that he is caught in the crafty wilinefs 
 which he imagined^ and in the net which he hid privily 
 for others are his own feet taken j fo true it is, that the 
 knave is always a fool. 
 
 Another work of darknefs, and one of the blackcft, 
 is perjury ; which, in order to be guilty of, a man muft 
 ihut out God from his thoughts, at the very inftant -he 
 is appealing to him by his words, in the mofl ^folemn 
 manner j lor it is not to be fuppofed, that a man, who 
 is guilty of fo great injuftice and impiety, can have ei- 
 ther God or religion before his eyes at the time. So nice 
 a peculiarity cannot fail of making it extremely difficult 
 to place one's mind in fuch a degree of darknefs, as is 
 neceffary for the committal of this crime. Yet fo great, 
 and fo frequent is the call for this horrible inftrument of 
 iniquity, and fo ready are the ill-principled part of man- 
 kind to anfwer this infernal call for gain, that an oath 
 may be had at a cheap rate, for any purpofe, though 
 never fo enormous. So common are perjuries grown, 
 that the moft infignificant jobs, which grofs folly, low 
 knavery, or trifling fpite, can have to do, find themfelves 
 immediately furnifhed with affidavits. It is a Ihort and 
 
 R 4 eafy 
 
24S spiritual Light and Darlmfs. 
 
 eafy method, to carry any little point by an affidavit or 
 two. It is ohly fcoring on the confcience, and fo there 
 is nothing to be feared, till the day of judgment. Re- 
 courfe is therefore had to it on all occafions ; whence 
 proceeds the furprifing fruitfulnefs of the commodity. 
 
 A lie is, in itfelf, a work of darknefs, fufficiently bafe 
 and fcandalous ; a fin, which, in holy Scripture, (lands 
 diftinguifhed among other fins, by being peculiarly afcribed 
 to the devil, as its author. But when God is folemnly 
 called upon to bear witnefs to the truth of a lie, which is 
 apply'd to the eftablifhingfome grievous piece of injuftice, 
 it thtn fets before us one work of darknefs inclofed with- 
 in another, and that within a third, fo bold and impious, 
 as hardly to admit of a comparifon. 
 
 Thefe diftinguilhed works of darknefs make their ap- 
 proaches to our minds by others, equally mifchievous in 
 their confequences, but not branded by vulgar repute 
 with fo black a name. It is impoffible to be particular 
 in fo great a crowd. I fhall therefore only lay down 
 fome general rules, by the obfervation of which, the 
 fprings of all that is vile and wicked may be difcovered 
 and avoided by you, who, perhaps, are not furnifhed al- 
 ready with a more particular and perfed knowlege of thefe 
 things. 
 
 That which helps you to impofe on yourfelf, to cloak 
 or leflen your fins, to raife your opinion of your own 
 worth, to make you partial to yourfelf, or indulgent to 
 your own weakneffes, is an inftrument of darknefs. 
 
 That which blunts retieflion, by either ftupifying the 
 piind, or amufing it with vain entertainments, with idle 
 hopes or fears, is an inftrument of darknefs. 
 
 That which hinders you from attending to, and pur- 
 fuing, your greateft intereft, and leads you off to the pur- 
 fuit of fmall or falfe interefts, fuch as the flefh or the 
 world fet before you, is an inftrument of darknefs. 
 
 That which renders you deaf, or averfe to good advice, 
 particularly that of your fpiritual guide, is an inftrument 
 of darknefs. 
 
 That which hinders the mind from attending to the 
 I'ruths of religion, and, by making its arguments feem 
 
 weak 
 
spiritual Light and Darknefs. 249 
 
 weak and difagreeable, enfeebles and daggers its faith, is 
 an inftrument of darknefs. 
 
 That which renders the mind cold and carelefs in at- 
 tending the fervice of God, in vifiting and converfing 
 with him at his houfe, and by his word, in keeping the 
 Sabbath, according to the nature and end of its inftitu- 
 tion, in celebrating the facrament of the Lord's fnpper ; 
 inafmuch as thefe are the great inlets of Chriftian light, 
 you may affure yourfelf, is an inftrument of grofs and 
 dangerous darknefs. 
 
 As a Chriftian, by the light of your religion, you may 
 eafily take a view, from one end to the other, of that 
 road which is filled with works of darknefs. You may 
 clearly fee, that, altho' it is wide and eafy at the entrance, 
 yet, at fome diftance, it grows more narrow and craggy, 
 and that thofe unhappy people who travel on it, grow 
 blacker and uglier every ftep they advance ; till, by de- 
 grees, they contradl a fhocking refemblance to certain 
 frightful beings, that ftand at the lower end of it to re- 
 ceive them. Is it poflible you can fee fuch a road as 
 this, and perceive the dreadful place it ends in, and yet 
 choofe to enter into ir, or continue on it ? Does your re- 
 ligion afford you its light for no other purpofe, but to ex- 
 pofe the blindnefs and extravagance of your ways, while 
 you feek what it were better you Ihould never find ♦, and 
 fiiun what you ought to purfue. Unthinking wretch ! 
 you fearch for happinefs, as if it were not placed diredly 
 before your eyes ; and altho* it is recommended to your 
 defires by all that is great and glorious, you knock at riches, 
 and afk, is it here ? You enquire of honour, whether it 
 be there ? You apply to power, but it cannot command it. 
 You fearch for it in fenfual pleafures, but cannot find it. 
 You ranfack all the vices, but meet with no footfteps of 
 it. What can you hope for, after fo many difappoint- 
 ments, from thefe unfruitful works of darknefs, the pur- 
 fuit of which is only vanity and vexation, and the wages 
 death. Wherefore, Awake thou that Jleepefl, and arife 
 from the dead, and Chrifl pall give thee light. And, See 
 that you walk circumfpe^ily, not as a fooly but as wife, 
 redeeming the time. 
 
 And 
 
a f o Sptrifual Light and IDarknefs. 
 
 And now may God be gracioufly pleafed to put away 
 from us all works of darknefs -, may he put on us the ar- 
 mour of light ; may he raife us out of our deep of fin, 
 and enable us to walk honejily, as in the day, thro' Jefus 
 Chrift our Saviour ; to whom, with God the Father of 
 lights, and God the blefied Comforter, be all might, ma- 
 jefty, and honour, now, and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 D I S 
 
[ 25' J 
 
 DISCOURSE XV. 
 
 Woe to the Drunkard. 
 
 Isaiah, v. 22. 
 
 Woe unto them that are mighty to drink Wine^ and 
 Men of Strength to mtngle Jlrong Drink, 
 
 THERE are certain vices, which, confidered ia 
 themfeJves, can by no means be ranked among 
 crimes of the deepeft die, and which therefore common 
 opinion, and the cuftoms of particular countries, feem to 
 place only in the number of human infirmities, and mere 
 mifdemeanors. And yet, if thefe vices are judicioufly 
 weighed by the multitude of their unhappy effeds, they 
 will be found, perhaps, to look as black and frightful, as 
 thofe fins, that call for the fevereft punilhments from men, 
 and the moft terrible judgments from God. 
 
 That drunkennefs is one, or rather the chief of thefe, 
 I hope the prefent Difcourfe will fully prove, by fhewing, 
 that the Woe denounced in my text, againfl thofe who di- 
 ilinguifh themfelves for an uncommon ability in this vice, 
 h made up of the unavoidable effeds it produces ; and 
 that this Woe^ or thefe efFeds, are too dear a price to be 
 paid by a reafonable creature for all the fenfual pleafures 
 of this life, did they accompany this fingle fin. 
 
 But, before we proceed to difclofe this woe in all the 
 variety of mifery it contains, it may not be amifs to re- 
 move 
 
2^1 Woe to the Drunkard, 
 
 move out of our way thofe excufes, the drunkard ufually 
 brings in his defence, that, when his punilhment comes 
 to be laid open, his underftanding, fo dark and unthink- 
 ing in itfelf, may not have thefe alfo to blind its fight, and 
 throw a veil over the gloomy and horrible profped. 
 
 The drunkard's firft excufe is charged to the account of 
 good fellowfhip : He drinks, if we believe him, not that 
 he loves the liquor, but that he may promote friendfhip, 
 and give a greater gaity to converfation. 
 
 How words are abufed ! Did the difh or the bottle ever 
 make a real friend ? Surely friendfhip can never be found- 
 ed on any thing elfe, than a fweet and affedionate difpofi- 
 tion, a likenefs of temper, and true honefty of heart, on 
 both fides. Will ftrorig drink beftow thefe on us ? Can 
 mutual love and confidence be built on vice ? On a vice, 
 -which, of all others, mofl effe<5lually impairs the memory, 
 and with it the fenfe of all obligations ? On a vice, remark- 
 able for blabbing and betraying fecrets ? On a vice, that 
 unavoidably hurries thofe that are addifted to it, to a 
 fpeedy ruin of that foundation, on which it raifes the (hort- 
 lived union of drunkards, by bringing them foon to an 
 end, either af their fortunes, or their lives ? What then is 
 the friendfhip of drunkards ? It is only the heat of ftrong 
 liquor, fmoking out either in wild unmeaning profefilons 
 of love, v/ith a mixture of naufeous kifles, and four 
 belches, or in loud oaths or unguarded expreflions, ufually 
 ending in quarrels and broken heads j which I fhall as 
 readily allow to be the teftimonies of true friendfhip, as 
 the profelTions and kifles already mentipned. 
 
 And how doth drunkennefs promote the gaity of con- 
 verfation ? Does it not deftroy all converfation ; for what 
 is converfation, but the communication of rational and 
 agreeable thoughts ? If converfation is to begin where 
 thinking ends, may it be my lot to have no one to con- 
 verfe with. Surely it is better to live in a defart, than a 
 bedlam, efpecially if I am to be as mad as the other 
 lodgers. The man of fenfe and fpirits needs not the af- 
 fiftance of Rrong liquors ; and is never more gay and 
 agreeable, than rifing from a calm and natural night's reft. 
 On the oth^r hand, in va.n doth the ilupid blockhead 
 
 hope^ 
 
iFce to the JDrunkurd. i^^ 
 
 hope, that ftrong drink will give wings to his heavy foul. 
 It is impoflible for him to find a moment's medium of 
 fprightlinefs between his natural dulnefs, and his drunken 
 madnefs. Such an one may be a fool or a madman ; but 
 he can never be a wit ; even his ridiculous fiaflies, of which 
 he is fo vain, are not the i flues of his own brain, but of a 
 botde ; and are nothing better than the froth of what he 
 hath drank. If he makes his company merry, do they not 
 rather laugh at him, than with him ? Do not filly people, 
 like them, laugh at a natural fool, for no other reafon, 
 but becaufe they are tickled with the fight of one who is 
 even fillier than themfelves ? And if they fhould at any 
 time exprefs their admiration by their mirth, certainly it 
 is hard to fay, whether the ftupid and empty jeft, or the 
 ienflefs peal of laughter that roars in its applaufe, is the 
 ftronger proof of folly. To imagine that ftrong drink 
 can help to pump wit out of a blockhead, is furely a 
 ftrange opinion j buffoonry indeed, and impertinence, 
 with wild flights and fallies, it may. He, who is fo void 
 of fenfe, as to feek for honour this way, knows not what 
 honour is, and it is folly, next his own, to fpend time with 
 him i and therefore I fhall difmifs him with the words of 
 the Prophet, Shameful fpewing Jh all be on his glory. 
 
 The next excufe for drinking to excefs, is, that it ftu- 
 pifies the cares and troubles of the drunkard ; which arife 
 from three different quarters ; hisjU ftate of health, the 
 .unfortunate pofture of his wordly affairs, or the ftings of 
 his guilty confcience. 
 
 As to his ill health, it muft be owned indeed, that in 
 fome cafes, a temperate ufe of generous liquors may be 
 of confiderable fervice ; and accordingly, phyficians often 
 prefcribe it, as St. Paul did to Timothy, for a ftrengthener 
 of low fpirited and feeble confticutions. But this hath 
 nothing to do with the point we are handling, which is 
 drunkennefs, a vice we are not at liberty to practice, even 
 to procure health, or prolong life, were it in any meafure 
 ijfeful for thofe ends. But fo far is it from being either, 
 that poifon cannot more furely, though it may more fpeedi- 
 Jy, hurt us in both refpe(5ts. The health of a man de- 
 pends as abfolutely on the right ftate of his brain, as his 
 
 reafon 
 
2f4 ^^^ ^0 the Drunkard. 
 
 reafon does 5 infomuch that it is impoffible to hurt the 
 one, without proportionably impairing the other. There 
 is hardly a difeafe, of which intemperance, efpecially ex- 
 cefs in drinking, is not the caufe, or at leaft the fewel. 
 Strong liquors, if taken in too great a quantity, corrupt 
 and inflame the blood, burn and fhrivel the nerves, dry 
 np and thicken the fpirits, and remarkably impair the 
 brain, as may be feen by the immediate effed they have on 
 it, which is as violent and manifefl, as the ftroke of a 
 ftaff or rtone •, only with this difference, that if fuch aa 
 Outward impreflion do not deprive us of life and reafon, it 
 loon ceafes ; whereas in the cafe of drunkennefs, the caufe 
 of our diforder, being mixed with the blood, the fpirits, 
 and the very fubftance of the brain, is not to be removed 
 without more time, more difficulty, and more danger. 
 We are by no means to imagine, that the ill effefts of in- 
 temperance ceafe with the drunken fit, or with the ficknefs 
 of ftomach, and aching head, that fucceed. The frequent 
 repetition of fuch excefTes cannot but greatly diftrefs a 
 body, the health and life of which depend on parts fo ex- 
 tremely fine and delicate, that Davfd^ reflefting on it 
 with jufl apprehenfions, fays, I am fearfully and wonderfully 
 made. Our experience confirms this reafoning two ways j 
 both by the ill health, and fhort life, of great drinkers ; 
 and by the common pradice of phyfic, which begins the 
 cure of moft diforders, by emptying the body of thofe 
 foul finks, with which intemperance had filled it. The 
 phyfician and furgeon owe the greater part of their 
 bufmefs to the cook and vintner, who lay in, what they 
 are feed to remove by pukes, purges, bJiftering, bleed- 
 ing, and fpitting ; and, to perfed the cure, a long courfe 
 of low and cool feeding is generally prefcribed. From 
 hence may appear the abfurdity of his excufe, who fays, 
 he gets drunk to comfort his fpirits, and retrieve his fickly 
 conrtitution. 
 
 Now his excufe, who drinks hard to ftifle his concern 
 for the unfortunate poflure of his worldly affairs, is, if 
 pofTible, flill more fenfelefs and defperate. The drunkard 
 will not leave himfelf fenfe enough to confider, that his 
 vice does not tend to the improvement of his fortune ; 
 
 the 
 
Woe to the Drunkard. 255* 
 
 the only remedy, humanly fpeaking, his cares admit of ; 
 and that it can do no more, than for a time make him for- 
 get he is in debt or diftrefs. If thought, and the fenfe of his 
 poverty,werfe never to return, this might be a complete cure 
 for his grief. But to forget his diftrefs, is the way to negleft 
 his affairs, by no means to retrieve them •, and to buy this 
 Ihort forgetfulnefs with fuch expences, as drunkennefs is 
 always attended with, is the fure way to put his affairs on 
 a more diftrefsful footing, than mere negled could have 
 occafioned. But if he is already in diftrefs, and cannot 
 bear fo much as to think of it, what will be his cafe, when 
 negle6l and extravagance (hall have wafted all he has, fo 
 that his ftupid remedy, and his ruined fortune, jfhallfail 
 him both at once ? Then, to which hand fhall he turn 
 him ? He cannot work : To beg he is ajhamed. Moft un- 
 happy man ! his mifery admits of no change, but a gaol ; 
 of no end, but an halter. 
 
 But great as the folly is of drinking to ftupify a bodily 
 diforder, or to drive away the cares arifing from worldly 
 diftrefs ; it is mere wifdom, if compared to that of drink- 
 ing to ftifietheftings of a guilty confcience. If one vice 
 could furnilh a cure, or make an atonement for another, 
 we might, with fome fhew of reafon, apologife for all our 
 vices. It is true, the drunkard may, for a time, drown 
 his confcience in ftrong liquor, and filence its clamours 
 with the noife of his roaring companions ; but muft he 
 not fometimes be fober ? And will not his confcience then 
 have its revenge ? Will not the violence he hath done to it 
 by the new additional vice whet its flings, and drive them 
 into his foul with double force and torture ? Remorfe and 
 dread of eternal puniftiment were given him for a remedy 
 againft fin ; and it is by them that God calls him to re- 
 pentance and mercy. But becaufe this voice of God is 
 alarming and terrible, he flies to the devil for protection, 
 although all he expefts, from that quarter, is the benefit of 
 traveling fome part of the road to eternal mifery with his 
 eyes covered. To aft fuch a part as this, is to infult Al- 
 mighty God, even under his rod, and. to his face ; is to 
 give up heaven for ever •, and, with the obftinacy, the ter- 
 ror, and defpair of a devil, to plunge blindfold into that 
 
 mifery. 
 
2 f 6 TFoe to the Drunkard* 
 
 mifery, in comparifon of which, the moft violent agonies 
 ofconfcience are mere peace and pleafure. 
 
 The drunkard hath other more uncommon and acci- 
 dental excufes for his vice; but they need not a particular 
 refutation ; for he rather pleads them to himfelf, as human 
 infirmities, than avows them to others, as reafons, by 
 which he would hope to prove he is neither altogether 
 fo foolifh, or fo wicked, as his neighbours might fuppofc 
 him to be. 
 
 He fays, he is fo expofed to company and bufinefs, that 
 it is impoffible fcr him to avoid drinking to excefs. Then 
 he is of fo eafy and fo flexible a temper, that he cannot re- 
 fift the importunities of his friends, as he calls them. 
 Thus he is for foftening his vice into a fort of virtue, and 
 calling that mere good-nature, which his creditor calls vil- 
 lainy, and his wife and children cruelty. But he will ne- 
 ver own, that fo low an appetite, as the love of liquor, or 
 fo fhameful a weaknefs, as vanity, deferve any fhare of 
 the blame, that he is a drunkard. And yet, after all, here 
 lies the flumbling-block, over which the habitual drunkard 
 falls. He may have a great foul, but it is not quite fo 
 great, as to enable him to defpife the pleafure he finds in 
 gratifying this appetite, nor the cenfure of other drunk- 
 ards, who would call him penurious, did he not run into 
 the fame extravagance with themfelves. Nay, great as his 
 foul is, it does not hinder him ffom being vain, that he 
 can hold more liquor than other men, though in this, as 
 the philofopher obferved, the hogfhead has flill the ad- 
 vantage of him ; nor from vaunting this fuperiority of his 
 ftrength, in being able to fit and fpeak, after drinking the 
 fame quantity that hath laid the reft of the company on 
 the floor, though for this he ought to thank his thick 
 fkull, and heavy fpirits. 
 
 We will however, for once allow, that the temptations, 
 which enfnare the drunkard, are great enough to prevent 
 the imputation of his having lefs fenfe and foul, than the 
 liar, the thief, or other finners of that rank ; and we will 
 proceed to lay before him the woe denounced againft him 
 by Almighty God •, or in other words, the miferable efli'eds, 
 as well temporal as fpiritual, of his favourite vice, that he 
 
 may 
 
Woe to the Drunkard. 257 
 
 may compare thofe eff^ds with his temptations, in order 
 to fee which is the greateft. After this he may judge for 
 himfelf, by his reformings or continuing in the vice, whe- 
 ther he hath any remains of common fenfe^ or any right 
 to look on himfelf as a great and generous foul. 
 
 The firft temporal ill effed of his drunkennefs, which 
 I (hall take notice of, as contained in the woe, with which 
 he is threatened, \s poverty. This muft certainly fall to his 
 lot, though his fortune might at firft have been never fo 
 great ; for fuch extravagance and neglect of his affairs, as 
 muft accompany the vice of drunkennefs, cannot fail to 
 put it out of his power to fupport himfelf and his family 
 in that rank of living, to which they are ufed, which 
 they expedled always to appear in, and from which there- 
 fore they cannot be brought down, without greater fhame 
 and anxiety, than people in lower life ufually feel from ab- 
 folute want of bread. Now this is poverty ; and fuch 
 poverty, as his wife and children will find means to make 
 him feel a fhare of; although there is ftill fo much left 
 that he may drink on, and be the defpicable flave of his 
 worfe than beaftly appetite, as long as he lives ; which 
 cannot be very long, for his purfe muft foon prove too 
 hard for his conftitution, and lead him, through a courfe 
 of pain and ficknefs, to an untimely death. And now 
 he is a dying, what account can he give of his under- 
 ftanding, who hath paid his fortune, his health, and all 
 the cleanly and comfortable fatisfaftion of life, with life 
 iifclf, for a Qiort courfe, full of confufion, ficknefs, re- 
 proach, and trouble ? for fuch, undoubtedly, is the life of a 
 drunkard ^ Who hath woe ? Who hath forrow ? Who hath 
 contentions ? Who hath babliWi^s ? Who hath wounds with- 
 
 o 
 
 out caufe ? Who hath rednefs of eyes? They that tarry long 
 at the wine^ they that go to feek mixed wine. 
 
 But when he, who hath no more than enough to fup- 
 port his family, turns a drunkard, he foon runs out his 
 little ftock, and reduces the whole family to the laft di- 
 ftrefs. In this fituation, he finds himfelf furrounded with 
 hunger, thirft, and cold. Abroad he is mortified with 
 continual repulfes and contempt •, at home with the re- 
 proaches of a wife in diftrefs, and children crying to him 
 
 Vol, IL S tor 
 
y^S Woe to the Drwikard, 
 
 for bread. And is it only to tickle his palate, or for tne 
 pleafure of a grin, that he tramples on the ties of nature ; 
 that he ftrips his children of that which is neceffary to de- 
 fend them from the cold ; that he fnatches the bit from 
 the mouth of his little infant, already pining for want of 
 food ? His forry companions, who fhare the fpoils of an 
 heart-broken wife, and ruined family, may cry up his 
 good-nature, and call him an honeft fellow ; but reafon, 
 common fenfe, and Chriltianity, call him a monfter of 
 villainy and cruelty. And, to finiQi all, thecurfe of God 
 purfues him into banifhment, or a gaol •, where his good- 
 ly companions forfake him, and no man pities him ; where, 
 perhaps, he may live to hear his wife is begging her bread, 
 his daughter earning hers by proftitution, and his fon fen- 
 tenced to the gallows. 
 
 The next woe, denounced by God, and the nature of 
 things, againft the drunkard, is univerfal contempt. We 
 all know, how lightly the poor man is regarded, although 
 his poverty is owing to no neglefts or vices of his ; but 
 when poverty is brought on by vice and extravagance, 
 then contempt and difdain are juftly due to it. Now, he 
 who once held up his head, and lived in credit, finds it 
 extremely difficult, to bear with patience the continual 
 fnubs and infults, which thofe who were once his equals, 
 perhaps his inferiors, are but too apt to throw upon him, 
 now that he is down. Nay, his poverty makes him take 
 that for an affront, which was never intended as fuch. 
 Add to all this, that he who was once high and haughty, 
 is now forced to cringe, to fneak, and flatter, for the very 
 necellaries of life, and to (loop to be the pitiful fpunge of 
 every low company that will bear him, for a little drink. 
 Had he the fpirit he pretended to, when he was formerly 
 ranting it in houfts of public refort, thefe mortifications 
 would be worfe to him than a thouland deaths. 
 
 The third dreadful effed, contained in the woe de- 
 nounced againft him, is ill health, and an untimely death. 
 Ot this I have faid enough already. But the drunkard 
 declares for a fliort hfe and a merry ; and accordingly hopes 
 to have his wifh. Setting afide the atheiftical guilt of 
 lu;h a wiPn, wha: lecurity can he give himfelf, that his. 
 
 health 
 
JP*oe to the "Drunhard. 259 
 
 health and fortune will lad as long as his life ? Hath he 
 not known many others of the fame (lamp, who have 
 laboured under all the complaints of old age, before they 
 "V^ere thirty ? Who have been whole years a dying, ere they 
 arrived at that ftage? Nay, who, at the beft, had fo much 
 difi:ra<5tion, fo many head-aches, fo many untoward acci- 
 dents, with innumerable other mifchiefs, as were enough to 
 fink their brighteft days to a level with thofe of the fober, 
 in which they had lead pleafure ? 
 
 The fourth and lafl: temporal evil, which I Ihall infift 
 on, as comprehended in the woe threatened to the drunk- 
 ard by my text, is madnefs. Man owes the dignity of his 
 nature to his reafon, by which he is both diftinguifhed 
 from the brute creation, and qualified for dominion over 
 that, and the reft of this world. It is by his reafon alfo 
 that he is allied to angels, and enabled to know God in his 
 word and works here, and to enjoy him for ever hereafter. 
 Every man is more happy in himfelf, and more highly 
 efteemed by others, in proportion as he fliews more 
 realbn or wifdom in his difcourfe and a6lions. We may 
 therefore fafely fay, that nothing more unfortunate can be- 
 fall a man in this world, than the lofs of his reafon. This 
 all men muft acknowledge, who are in their fenfes them- 
 felves. What then (hall we fay of him, who places his 
 happlnefs in madnefs ? Who will rifque his life for a for- 
 tune, and afterwards give that fortune, together with his 
 health, his charadler, and his confcience, to purchafe 
 madnefs ? Surely had he not been a fool of the firft rate 
 before, he could never have wifhed to become a mad- 
 man, and that at fo great an expence. Had he ever 
 known the ufe of reafon, it is impoflible he (hould dcfire 
 to lofe it. 
 
 Now he who is drunk, was this fool, and is this mad- 
 man, this voluntary, this wilful madman. To get drunk, 
 is to be mad by choice -, and accordingly, Pythagoras- 
 called drunkennefs, an attempt to be mad. The Prophet 
 Hofea fays, it is madnefs. PVi7ie and women, and new 
 wincy take away the heart •, by which he means the un- 
 derftanding. But the drunkard will fay, this fit of diftra- 
 ftion lafts only for a fiiort timej to which we may an- 
 
 S 2 ' fwer. 
 
260 Woe to the Drunkard. 
 
 Aver, that if it were a defirable condition, he ought to 
 wifh it might laft for ever •, for, by the fame rule that he 
 would not have it continue, he ought never to defire it 
 fhould begin. It doth not however appear by his praflice, 
 that he hath any averfion to its continuance, for he drinks 
 as long, and as often, as he is able •, and it feems to be 
 owing only to the weaknefs of his body, or the fliallow- 
 nefs of his purfe, that he is not always mad. Perhaps it 
 would be bL:tter for him to be fo, fince he is but a fool, 
 v/hen fober -, for, fool as he is, thofe reflections can reach 
 him in that (late, which, in a ftate of madnefs, can give 
 him no uneafinefs. Total madnefs may feem more (hock- 
 ing to men in their fenfes, but is not fo grievous to the 
 madman, as that which fometimes gives way to the ufe 
 of reafon, wherein the wretch becomes fenfible of his un- 
 happy ailment. This is more true of the drunken mad- 
 man than of any other ; for when he becomes fober, he 
 awakens only to a fenfe of ficknefs, of diftrefs to himfelf 
 and family ; and, as he cannot reform, to a profpedl that 
 ftill looks more black and frightful, the farther he calls 
 his eyes over it ; to a profpe(ft, in Ihort, that prefents him 
 with poverty and ficknefs juft before him, with an un- 
 timely death a little further, and, beyond that, with dam- 
 nafion. To a man, thus circumflanced, the return of his 
 reafon muft be his higheft affliflion, and that of his 
 madnefs his only refuge. Accordingly he haftens again 
 to the bottle, that he may there drown that enemy, his 
 reafon, and, with it, the intolerable fenfe of his mifery. 
 
 Were the woe of the drunkard confined to thefe tem- 
 poral evils, it might be fufficient, one would think, to 
 frighten him from a vice fo very grievous in its effedls. 
 But thcfe evils, great and afRiding as they really are in 
 themfelves, are nothing at all, if compared to the fpiritual 
 evils, that fpring from, and punifh, the vice of drunken- 
 nefs. Their multitude is fo great, that I hardly know how 
 to be particular in fuch a croud ; and they are fo very 
 fhocking in their nature, that it diflrefTes the imagination, 
 clearly to conceive and defcribe them. However, left 
 ■we fhould lofe our way, it may not be amifs to follow 
 this niethod : Firil. let us take notice, that drunkennefs is 
 
 itfcif 
 
Woe to the Dfiinkani. 261 
 
 itfelf a crime J and, fecondly, let us confider what other 
 vices fpring out of i^:, and draw their fewel from it. 
 
 That drunkennefs is a crime, every one muft acknow- 
 lege, who either reflefts on the abufe of God's creatures, 
 that were given, and ought to be applied, to better pur- 
 pofes ; or confiders the violence done to human nature in 
 the ruin of health and reafon, without which the praflice 
 of hard drinking cannot be purlued. He is certainly cri- 
 minal, who lavilhes on his own filthy appetite, that which, 
 if divided, might fupport the fpirits of many, who are 
 forced to live on poorer food, and to wafte their ftrength 
 in much harder labours, than either necelTity or inclma- 
 tion ever reduced him to. On the other hand, he muft 
 ftill be more highly criminal, in deftroying his health and 
 underftanding. In dtftroying his health, he alfo fhortens 
 his life, and fo far is guilty of felf-murder, as he quits 
 the world before the will of his Maker and Mafter calls 
 him off. And in deftroying his reafon, he makes his hfe 
 ufelefs and burdenfome to the world •, and, as to the ends 
 and purpofes of life, differs from the fell- murderer only 
 in this i that whereas the felf-murderer leaves the world 
 when he ought to ftay in it, and do good •, the drunkard, 
 who alfo leaves it before his time, loiters a while firft, to 
 do mifchief. 
 
 Now, as to the other vices and fins that fpring out of 
 drunkennefs, and draw their fewel from thence, they 
 amount to neither more nor lefs than the entire catalogue 
 of all the crimes that human nature can be guilty of. We 
 need not dwell on fins of omiflion, bccaufe it is evident, at 
 firft fight, that the drunkard muft be chargeable with 
 them alfo ; for a man fo funk in health and fortune, and 
 deftituteof reafon, can do no good, can anfwer no one 
 end of his creation. It might however he more tolerable 
 for him in the day of judgment^ were this all, and did he 
 not ftand accountable for an infinite deal of evil. 
 
 If it is virtue to have all the paffions, affedions, and 
 appetites, in abfolute fubjecflion to reafon, and reafon to 
 true Religion ; he muft be thoroughly prepared for all 
 manner of wickednefs, whofe afti^ions and paffions are 
 inflanied to the higheft pitch of fury, and whole reafon is 
 S 3 either 
 
l6z JVoe to the Drunkard. 
 
 either wholly banifhed, or fo extremely enfeebled, as to 
 deprive it of all authority and fcrength. Now, it is the 
 property of excefs in drinking to put a man exadlly in 
 this condition ; for while his ftrong liquors kindle up a fire 
 in his affections, they extinguifh his underflanding, they 
 chain down his reafon, while they lay the lafh and fpur 
 to his pafTions. 
 
 In this ftate of mind, he is fitted by his enemy for 
 every temptation, juft as gunpowder is for fire. All 
 cares, human and divine, are alike to him, for he neither 
 fears God, nor regards man. He mixes the awful name 
 of his Maker with difcourfe fo filly and fo lewd, that it 
 v;ouId be a difhonour to his harlot to be the fubjed of it. 
 He hath no more refped for the Sabbath-day, than for 
 ^ny other day ; nor dots he indeed make any material 
 difference between night and day ; for he is one of thofe, 
 who, according to the faying of Ifaiah, put darknefs for 
 light, and light for darknefs. His table., which, as the 
 Prophet exprelTes it. is full of 'vomit andfilthinefs, fo that 
 there is no place clean., is not more an abomination to the 
 J^ord., than the Lord's table is to him. 
 
 Extravagance like his muft be fupported, pay for it who 
 will ; bur, generally fpeaking, cannot be fupported without 
 cruelty and oppreflion, without deceit and fraud : I fay 
 fraud i for though he is feldom in the ufe of his reafon, yet, 
 like many other madmen, he hath cunning enough for his 
 purpofe, which is only to raife money ; a thing that may 
 be done, without any great reach of thought, by one 
 who is no way nice about his confcicnce, or charader. 
 The fober part of the world look on the drunkards as 
 madmen ; and the drunkards are at no fmall pains to fet 
 themfelves out, as an honeft undefigning fort of men, 
 who hurt nobody, but themfelves. Yet they gladly run 
 in debt where they have credit, and never pay till they 
 are forced. They make no fcruple of fleecing every one 
 under their power, till they are as bare as themfelves. 
 How can their tenant, or their fervant, take this ill, fincc 
 they do not treat their own wives and children a whit 
 better.? Notwichilanditig all this, we mufl take it for 
 granted, they are very honell men, for no one is hanged 
 
 for 
 
Woe to the Drunkard. 263 
 
 for fuch things as thefe, nor for combining over a bottle, 
 and fpending the night in forming fchemes of iniquity, in 
 which they unite their interefts and ftrength with a kind 
 of cunning, that often proves too hard lor the prudence 
 of wifer men, whofe hands arc tied up by a real regard to 
 truth and juftice. It would be endlefs to run over the 
 malicious fcandals that are born, the filthy jobs that are 
 formed, and the unfair advantages that are purfued and 
 carried, in bargains, in references, and in all fort ot bufi- 
 nefs, by the afliftance of this fruitful vice. 
 
 As hard drinking is not more apt to ftifle reafon, than 
 it is to banifh all fenfe of fhame and modefty from the mind 
 of the drunkard, while it heats his luftful paffions and 
 lewd defires to a peculiar rage, it drives him into fornica- 
 tion, adultery, and every ad of pollution, the corrupt 
 imagination of man is capable of conceiving. It turns out 
 the lafcivious brute without a bridle, and hurries him into 
 fuch a fink of uncleannefs, as decency forbids defcription to 
 approach. Hence it is that lewd houfes are always fur- 
 nilhed with ftrong liquors ; that in cafe the wretch, who 
 reforts to thefe porches of hell, hath not yet dofed himfelf 
 fufiiciently, he may there find wherewithal to give him a 
 tafte grofs enough for the dung, and a ftomach ftrong 
 enough for the poifon, with which he is to be regaled. 
 No where on earth, and hardly in hell, is there any thing 
 to be found more odious, more deteftable, and more fhock- 
 ing, than a lewd and fhamelefs woman. Befides it is ge- 
 nerally known, or believed, that fhe is a lump of painted 
 rottennefs, of perfumed ftench, and that fhe brings with 
 her a deadly infedlion to the body, as well as the foul of 
 him, who touches her. What is it now th:u can lead a rea- 
 fonable creature into her fnare? Nothing, abfolutely no- 
 thing. A man muft have loft his reafon, and become a 
 brute, before he can fo much as think of turning his eyes 
 towards a fight fo deteftable. To what a pitch muft a 
 man*s blood be fired ! to what a depth muft his tafte be 
 lowered ! to what a diftra<;;tion muft his underftanding be 
 driven ! either by the devil, or ftrcng liquor! before he is 
 capable of taking fuch a fiend for an angel, or an objedt 
 of love and defire. 
 
 S 4 In 
 
264 TFoe to the Drwikard, 
 
 In this refped the effedls of drunken nefs in women are 
 ftill more fhameful and fhocking than in men. To fee 
 that perfon, which nature intended for neatnefs and fweet- 
 nefs, all loofe and filthy ; that face, which fhould be the 
 feat of comelinefs and beauty, all bloated and diftorted •, 
 and thofe eyes, in which modefty and chaftity fiiould fit 
 enthroned, ftaring impudence, and gogling luft *, which 
 is remarkably the cafe of a woman flullered with liquor, 
 is a thing fliocking, abominable, horrible, beyond all 
 imagination or defcription. Yet horrible as it is, I am for- 
 ry to fay it, fuch fights are of late by no means uncom' 
 mon. I fhould be alfo infinitely furprifed, that men could 
 for a moment endure them, or forbear flying from them 
 to the ends of the earth, did I not confider, that what 
 ihey are fo eafily reconciled to in themfelves, they muft 
 be well enough prepared to tolerate in the other fex. But 
 men in their fenles cannot forbear pronouncing him mifera- 
 ble, who hath fuch a wife, and them unhappy, who have 
 fuch a mother ; tor neither to him, nor them, can fhe in 
 any fort difcharge the duties of the place flie is in. 
 
 Nothing but reafon can give a man a right fenfe of his 
 own infirmity and vilenefs, and teach him that humility, 
 which becomes fo dependant, fo guilty, a creature. But 
 when this is banifhed by ftrong liquor, and the fpirits be- 
 gin to mount on its fiery vapours, then pride rifes with 
 them, and lords it over the heart. The drunken dunce 
 applauds his own underllanding, and bewrays that want of 
 fenfe, which, fober, he might have concealed. The 
 coward conceits himfelf an hero, and engages in a quar- 
 rel, which muft cofr him a (hameful fubmifllon to-mcrrovr," 
 The beggar, now grown a lord, muft drink and pay ac- 
 cording to his new title, though hunger ?.nd rags are im- 
 inedjately to follow. 
 
 Pride foon begets infjlence and rudenefs ; infomuch 
 that every one will give the greateft, and none bear the 
 flighteft, affront. The moft unmeaning, and often the 
 kindeft exprelBons, are wrefted and refented. In the 
 midft of harfh gibing, loud laughing, and boifterous 
 talking, refembling, to a fober ear, the quarreling of a 
 parcel of dogs, it would be very furpriling, if anger 
 3 ihould 
 
TVoc to the DnmkarJ. 0.6 f 
 
 {hould not be roufcd by fuch a cry -, or, when roufed, if 
 it fhould not vent itfelf in bitter reproaches, broils, broken 
 heads, blood flicd, and even murder. 
 
 You lee, by this time, that drunkennefs travels with an 
 huge train of other vices, and requires the whole width of 
 the broad way to give it room. Where its journey is to 
 end, you know; lb that if the guilt and mifery which at- 
 tend it here, be not enough, there, at leaft, the drunk- 
 ard, having, to his horror, opened his eyes, and reco- 
 vered the ule of his reafon, will perceive the truth of my 
 text, and acknowledge, that great, beyond all power of 
 conception, is the Woe denounced againft them that are 
 mighty to drink whic, and men of Jlrength to mingle Jlrong 
 drink. 
 
 It is a common remark, whether ftriiflly true or not, I 
 fhall by no means flay to inquire, that no drunken woman 
 was ever reformed. It is however certainly true, that the 
 rice of drunkennefs is itfelf much harder to be reformed, 
 and makes all the other vices of the drunkard much more 
 difficult to be fubdued, both in men and women, than any- 
 other kind of wickednefs whatfoever. How this comes 
 to pafs, is eafily conceived. Other vices leave a man the 
 ufe of his reafon, and confequently fome handle for ad- 
 vice and refleftion to lay hold of. But this having de- 
 graded him to a fenfelefs brute, makes it almoft as ridiculous 
 to reafon with him, as with an afs or a fwine. And as to 
 the hope of reformation from the grace of God, it fhocks 
 common fenfe, and all our notions of Religion, even to 
 conceive, that the Holy Spirit fhould come to, or remain 
 in, a man who is often drunk : No : fuch an habitation 
 is fitted up for another kind of fpirit. 
 
 However, it may not be altogether ufelefs to preach on 
 this fubjeff, fince, by fo doing, they who are not addid:- 
 ed to the vice, may be prevented from falling into it ; and 
 he who is but lately fallen, may be fnatched from the mouth 
 of this gulf. To fuch an one as this, let me cry with a la- 
 mentable voice^ like that of D^r/aj, when he called to Daniel 
 in the lion's den. *' O tboii fervant of the living God^ is 
 " thy infinitely gracious Mailer willing to deliver thee from 
 " that lioHy that goeth about fe eking whom he may devour^ 
 
 *' and 
 
266 Woe to the Drunkard. 
 
 " and hath unhappily got thee into his den ? Or, haft 
 •' thou thyfelf ftiife enough left to know where thou art, 
 *' and what fort of company thou art in ? Wilt thou not 
 *' come forth while God ftill offers thee his help, and thou 
 " haft yet fome ftrength to fight thy way ?" 
 
 If you have ears to hear, let them hear. God gave 
 you reafon that you might know and pradtife your duty. 
 To ftupify it with ftrong liquor will not cxcufe you, for 
 that is itfelf a very provoking fin •, and one fin can never 
 be made a cloak, or an apology, for another-, it can only 
 increafe the guilt, and double the punilhment. God gave 
 you natural fpirits to be as chearful as he approves of, or 
 as a due fenfe of your fins Ihould fuffer you to be. Let 
 thofe content you -, and pray confider, that a poor guilty 
 wretch, like you, hath no right to an high excefs of mirth, 
 were that mirth never fo innocent in its kind. Hear 
 what Solomon fays in this cafe, // is better to go to the houfe 
 of mourning, than to the houfe of feafting. Sorrow is better 
 than laughter. The heart of the wife is in the houfe of 
 mourning -, but the heart of fools is in the houfe of mirth. 
 God gave you health that you might turn it to his fervice, 
 your own comfort, and the good of the community ; par- 
 ticularly of your own family : Do not apply it to the very 
 contrary ends-, do not facrifice it to the devil. God hath put 
 it in your power to provide neceflTaries for your family j per- 
 haps to relieve the diftrefl'es of the poor -, do you think 
 this wife Mafter, who would by no means excufe your 
 wrapping it in a napkin, will fuffer you to go unpunilhed, 
 if you make ufe of it to deftroy all your other talents of 
 health, time, underftanding j to promote all other vices, 
 luft, wrath, oppreffion, perhaps murder; to turn your- 
 felf from a rational creature into a brute, from a Chriftian 
 into a devil, or rather into fuch a mixture of brute and 
 devil, as the fwine were, when a legion of evil fpirits had 
 entered into them, and were hurrying them down the pre- 
 cipice to death and dtft'rudion ^ If God fends the funfhine 
 and rain on your fields, and bleffes your labours with a 
 plentiful increafe ; or, if he profpers you in the way of 
 trade ; fhall you immediately forget who gave you all this 
 abundance, and, in a fit of drunkennefs, offer up to the de- 
 
 vU 
 
Wee to the Drunkard. 267 
 
 vU the firft fruits of God's bounty to you ? You fee I 
 fpeak to you on a fuppofition that you have gathered what 
 you have by the blefllng of God on your induftry, or other 
 fair and lawful methods. But ifyou have got it by fraud 
 or opprelfion, no part of this difcourfe is intended for you. 
 The devil hath a fort of a right to expe<5l from you a pro- 
 fitable return on one vice, out of that which he helped 
 you to by another ; and God will admit no offerings nor 
 fervices from fubftance fo acquired, till repentance and 
 reftitution have put it into the hands of the right owners. 
 You wifh, perhaps, in fome fit of ficknefs, pray, for health ; 
 will you endeavour to drink it away when you have got it? 
 Would you have God work a miracle to reftore the health, 
 and prolong the life, of foperverfea fool, only that you may 
 be drunk by the year, or by the century. Perhaps you 
 Ibmetimes pray for wnfdom, in imitation oi David, who 
 faid, give me itnderfianding^ and I jhall live-, and o( So- 
 lomon, who cbofe it rather than riches. But how can you, 
 who labour to deftroy your realbn, defire wifdom .'' Do 
 you think this gift of God alfo may be employed in pro- 
 curing money to be expended on your deteftable vice ? 
 You pray X'k.t^i'it^ox your daily bread \ but is it to impofe 
 on Providence, by drinking, inftead of eating it.'' Yioyou 
 ajk the necelTaries of life to confurne them on your lujts? If 
 thus you aJk bread, will not God ferve you right, ;/ he 
 give you a jtone ? If thus you aJk an egg, can you complain, 
 tf he Jldould give you a fc or pi on? 
 
 Diogenes threw on the ground a large vefTel of wine, 
 that was beftowed him ; and when the giver took it amifs. 
 Why, faid this heatheii, ;/ / had drank it, I had but fpilt 
 it, and my f elf too into the bargain. Shall he not rife in 
 judgment againft the mtn of this generation, and condemn 
 them, to whom Chrill, both by precept and example, 
 preaches not only temperance, but abdinence ? How fhall 
 you, a Chriflian drunkard (O the contradidory expreffion!) 
 hold up your face at the la It day, before that other heathen 
 philofopher, who faid, " The farfb glafsfor thirft, the fe- 
 *' cond for chearfulnefs, the third for pleafure, the fourth 
 ** for madnefs ?" You could teach him another lefTon, the 
 iifth for poverty, the fixch for rags, the feventh for hunger, 
 
 the 
 
268 TVoe to the Drunkard, 
 
 the eighth for cold, the ninth for contempt, the tenth for 
 vomiting, the eleventh for the devil, and the twelfth for 
 damnation ; and yet you are but in the middle of your 
 career. 
 
 Let me afk you a very important queftion : Do you in- 
 tend ever to reform ? If you do, why not now ? It will be 
 much eafiei* to do it now, than any time hence. I re- 
 member on my fpeaking in this manner to a noted drunk- 
 ard fome years ago, he told me, he did fully intend to 
 quit the vice, but he faw no reafon for being in hafle. 
 This unhappy man continued his courfe for more than a 
 year afterwards, and ended it with breaking his neck. 
 Have you any reafon to promife yourfelf a better end. A 
 young man came drunk and reeling into the fchool of Ze- 
 no the philofopher, who changed his fubjed; to fuch a 
 lefture againft drunkennefs, as roufed the profligate to 
 the fcnfe of his folly, and to an effeftual refolution ne- 
 ver to be drunk again. Shall the word of God have lefs 
 force in my mouth, than mere human reafoning had in 
 that of Zeno ? Or fhall you, who are now fober, be more 
 impenetrable to Religion, than that young pagan, in the 
 midft of a debauch, to a fort of philofophy, that was 
 not founded on faith in the true God, nor on expeftation 
 of heaven or hell ? If this is the cafe, tell it not to un- 
 believers, publifh it not among the enemies of Chrift, left 
 they take an occafion from thence to deride and blafpheme 
 the Religion you profefs. 
 
 But if the force of reafon, the power of God's word, 
 and the Divine Grace, are now ftruggling with your abo- 
 minable vice, turn your heart to your duty ; fix a firm re- 
 folution againft the vile unworthy fin -, let God have the 
 Yiftory, and to him, in the unity of the ever blelTed Tri- 
 nity, be the praife, the honour, and the glory, now and 
 for evermore. Amen. 
 
 DIS. 
 
[ 2<S9 ] 
 
 DISCOURSE XVI. 
 
 Pride an Humbler. 
 
 Prov. xxix. 23. 
 A mans Pride Jhall bring him loiv. 
 
 TH E Author of human nature hath planted in every 
 man a greater love for himfelf, than for any thing 
 elfe in the world ; infomuch that, were he left merely to 
 the motions of nature, he would prefer his own interefl, 
 his happinefs, and his life, to thofe of all mankind. Now 
 where there is fo much love, there muft be fome efteem ; 
 there is, therefore, in every man, fome degree of efteem 
 for himfelf Since, then, felf-efteem is as natural to us 
 as felf-love, every degree of it cannot be culpable ; for 
 God will never judge us for that which he himfelf hath 
 made a part of our nature. We fay of a man whom we 
 think proud. He hath too good an opinion, or he fets 
 too high a value on himfelf: By which it plainly appears, 
 we do not blame him for having fom.e efteem for him- 
 felf, but only for having too much. 
 
 What, then, is pride, confidered as a vice ? It is the 
 having too great an efteem for ourfelves on account of 
 lome inward excellence which we either have not, or ove?? 
 
 vahi-e^ 
 
270 pride an Humbler, 
 
 value -, or on account of fome outward advantages, which 
 we are too apt to value ourielves upon, as if tliey made 
 a part of ourfelves. Pride, like at! other vices, confifts 
 not in the natural afFcdion ulelf, but proceeds from the 
 abufe or excefs oi it. 
 
 The fetting too great a value on ourfelves is that vice 
 of pride, which brings a man lowy which comes before a 
 fall ; and which is threatened in Scripture, and, by the 
 natural make of men and things, with perpetual and 
 grievous mortifications. The whole world, with all the 
 perfons and things of which it is compofed, are fo framed 
 by their Maker, as to enter into a natural combination to 
 pull down pride. 
 
 All men have more or lefs of pride ; and therefore are 
 jealous of the refpeft paid toothers, and infinitely offended 
 at another's Teeming to refpcft himfelf. .Honour and 
 praife are things about which men contend, as' if they 
 could not be (bared •, for there is hardly any one who is 
 fatisfied to be commended or refpefted upon a level with 
 others, but would have all the compliments and praifes 
 paid to himfelf: If he can be content with a preference, 
 he is judged to have fome modefty. 
 
 Again ; he who does not receive fome refpe(5l, will pay 
 none: As if honour was a kind of trade, in v/hich every 
 man (fuch is his opinion of himfelf) thinks what he hath 
 to give, is worth all he can receive from his neighbours. 
 lie, therefore, v.'ho feems to refpeft himfelf above others,, 
 and to let up for engrofling all the efteem of his acquaint- 
 ances, cannot but mils of his aim ; becaufe he muft be 
 moft diftafteful to the reft of mankind, who aft too nearly 
 upon the fame principles, efpecially if he appears to over- 
 bear or extort that elleem. The pride of one man will 
 not fuffcT him to bear the pride of another. This is the 
 fpringofall that outward refpeft andcivility with which well- 
 bred people, and fuch as know the world, are obliged to 
 treat one another •, and they are of no fmall ufe among 
 perfons in whom honour, and vanity, and felf-refpeft, 
 run fo high. However highly each of them may think 
 of himfelf, and defpicably of others -, yet, if this be art- 
 fully concealed, he may hope to be paid in the fame coin, 
 
 and 
 
Pride an Humbler. 271 
 
 and treated with fuch a (liew of refped, as, being con- 
 ilrued by vanity to its own advantage, may ferve the 
 fool aln^.oft: as well as the real regard. 
 
 If he defires any more than mere civility, if he would 
 have a {hew of refped more folid -, for inftance, if he 
 hopes to have others fpeak well of him behind his back ; 
 he muft pay a much higher purchafe for this higher mark 
 of efteem •, he mult cringe fo much the lower to them ; 
 he muft flatter tht- m when prefent, and cry them up to 
 the ftars when abfcnt ; or, he may alTure himfelf, they 
 will never fill their trumpets with his praifes ; but, on the 
 contrary, vilify him on all occafions. He would do 
 well, however, to confider how low he muft ftoop, to 
 raife himfelf in the opinion of others ; how little he muft: 
 make himfelf, in order to this fort of greatnefs. Now, 
 as there can be nothing more mean or prepofterous than 
 to beg refpedt, to aim at praife by flattery •, or honour, 
 by fervility ; to compliment him whom he hates j to ap- 
 plaud the man whom he defpifes ; to tickle the vanity of 
 others with grofs lyes, and bafe dilTmiulation ; that they, 
 in return, may feed his with the fame chaffs -, fo his 
 pride, feeking to gratify itfelf by fuch means as thefe, 
 miferably ads againft its own intention, and brings him 
 loWy even to the ground. Chriftianity does not require 
 humility itfelf to ftoop fo low. 
 
 Nothing, one would.lhink, bids fo fair to raife a man 
 to honour and efteem, as the doing of good. But this 
 4:an only recommend us to the efteem of a few, and a few 
 can never give a man that general applaufe which pride 
 looks for. The greater part of that fcanty clafs of men, who 
 like a man for doing good, are too apt to miftake a good 
 adlion for the contrary ; to attribute the good that is done 
 to low motives •, and to take our charaders, afcer having, 
 done the beft we can, from worfe men than themfelves, 
 who find a pleafure in artfully giving a bad turn to every 
 thing ; and, even when thefe virtuous few do think well 
 both of what is done, and him who does it, they are ge- 
 nerally, through lufpicion, having been often impoled 
 upon by falfe appearances, cold enough in their com- 
 mendations. 
 
 The 
 
272 pride an Humbler. 
 
 The refb of the world, as they have little inclination to 
 do good themfelves, fo they look with an evil eye on 
 him who hath. His good anions reprove their evil ones. 
 They are fometimes even twitted with them, and are forced 
 to hear an odious comparifon made between him and them- 
 felves. This is with them a fufficient caufe of refentment 
 and hatred. They think he hath traduced them by his 
 piety, and fallen foul upon their chara6lers by his juftice 
 and charity •, for which reafon they ufe all poffible means 
 to fet him in the worfl: lights they can, left he fhould be 
 thought a better man than themfelves. In reality, to be 
 remarkable for doing good, is to be an objeft of envy to 
 all thofe who do lefs good, and a reproach to fuch as do 
 none. A few good adions, indeed, may be forgiven ; 
 but, if a man ihould perfevere in fuch praftices, the 
 good-natured world will fay, he is fetcing up for fome- 
 thing extraordinary •, will feverely lalh at him v/ith their 
 tongues on all occafions -, will rip up all his failings ; will 
 add an hundred more he was never addidled to ; and perfer 
 cute him, as often as it is in their power, with the utmoft 
 cruelty. This is almoft all the glory he is to bs rewarded 
 with among men, for doing the bed adions, upon the belt 
 principles. 
 
 But if his motive for doing good appears to be a love 
 of praife (and vanity is never to be concealed from the 
 fharp- lighted world, who always fufpedl it before it ap- 
 pears), then ridicule and infamy, which he juftly deferves, 
 are fure to be his doom. All a6lions are to be judged of 
 by God according to the real principles they fpring from ; 
 and men, who otten fet up for fearcheis of hearts, as far 
 as they are able, endeavour to judge the fame way. The 
 proud man lofes all the merit of the little good he does, 
 both with God and man. God fees his heart, and knows 
 he a6ls on no other principle but vanity •, now God hates 
 nothing fo much as pride, becaufe it is levelled more di- 
 reftly againft himfelf than any other vice ; robs him of 
 his honour \ was the fpring of all evil and rebellion j is 
 mod contrary to his nature, and moft inconfiftent with 
 the nature of man, whom God, his Maker, knows to be 
 
 fc? 
 
PriJe an Humbler, 27? 
 
 fo wicked, fo miferable, and fo vile, a creature, deferv- 
 ing of nothing but difgrace and fhame ? with which pride, 
 be it never fo highly gratified here, muft be punifhed at 
 the laft. 
 
 But the world never fuffers it to go unmortified, even 
 in this life, tho* letting itfelf oft by the moft plaufiblc 
 actions. Men of real worth hate the counterfeit of them- 
 felves, and can hardly be reconciled to the utmofl good 
 that vanity can do. And as to bad men, they ferve the 
 vain-glorious apes of goodnefs juft as the evil fpirit ferved 
 the fons of Sceva : The truly good man we know, the up^ 
 right man we know, but who are ye? and, flying at their 
 chara6ters, they tear them to pieces. The proud man 
 will not wait to be rewarded either by God or man ; but 
 makes his own vanity his pay-mafter ; and, confidering 
 how little real good he does, and how high a value he 
 fets on it, I believe he is always overpaid. This kind of 
 hypocrify and fpiritual pride brings a man jo low, both in 
 the judgment of God, and the efteem of men, that the 
 vileft publican or finner, whofe breaft is fmitten with hu- 
 mihty, Hands far above him in the fight of both. 
 
 If it be fo idle, now, to glory in our befl aftions, which 
 we never do but through the borrowed alTiftance of fupe- 
 rior goodnefs and power, what is it to be vain of our ill 
 ones ? What is it to vaunt of fuccefsful lewdnefs, of vic- 
 tories in drinking, of uncommon cunning in] bargain- 
 making, of luperior policy in managing law-fuits, eled:ions, 
 oaths ? A mind vain of fin hath arrived to the utmoft 
 pitch of depravity ; the devil him.felf can pufh it no far- 
 ther i nor can it fall lower, till it takes up its eternal abode 
 with him in utter darknefs, the fittefl place to hide fuch 
 an infamous mind in. 
 
 The favours of the proud, as they are vouchfafed only 
 to gratify his own vanity, as they are conferred for the 
 moft part on the unworthy, and as they are generally 
 granted with an haughty, contemptuous, and difobliging, 
 air, feldom meet with a grateful return ; and indeed ne- 
 ver delerve it ; but are often received with fome degree 
 of refentment j for thofe they are conferred on, are, it 
 may be, as proud as their benefador, and cannot eafily 
 
 Vol. II. T bear 
 
S74 Pf'ide an Humbler, 
 
 bear his infolent bounties or fervices. The proud owns 
 no obligations ; the utmoft that can be done for him, is 
 but a fmall part of what, in his own opinion, he deferves. 
 
 There are fools fo grofs, as to impoverifli and ruin 
 themfelves, to feed fools almoft as fenfelefs as they, merely 
 for the fake of that flattery with which they at once pam- 
 per and banter their vanity. Thefe bubbles fwell, to take 
 in the naufeous breath of thofe who blow them up with 
 fulfome praifes, till they burft, and fall into nothing. 
 They who catch at the praifes of fools, and the flattery 
 of knaves, do but purchafe, and that at a ruinous price, 
 the incenfe of finks and dunghils. What a ftupid, what 
 a low and defpicable, coxcomb is he, who can bear to 
 be devoured, becaufe he is applauded by the fame mouth ! 
 Pride goes before a fall^ for infl:ance, into contempt ; for 
 who will refped the infolent ? Or into poverty ; for pride 
 can feldom endure either indufl;ry or frugality. And then, 
 pride having brought in want, fraud, perjury, or even 
 theft and robbery, muft be employed to carry it out 
 again ; fo that many, to keep themfelves in fome appear- 
 ance of their former plenty and fplendor, are forced to 
 inlift themfelves among the loweft and bafefl: of villains. 
 I have known fome gentlemen, of high blood, and lofty 
 fpirits, who did not think it beneath them to cheat, lye, 
 and even fl:eal, to fupport the dignity of an antient fa- 
 mily. 
 
 The proud cares not for the company of his equals, 
 and therefore can never have a friend ; for friendfhip 
 never couples creatures of different fpecies; and fuch are 
 the very high, and the very low. It is but one and the 
 fame pride that makes fome men fo fond of aflTociating 
 with their inferiors, that they may be always flattered, 
 and fubmitted to ; and others, with thofe above them, 
 that they may appear to the lower part of the world to be 
 perlbns of eminence, by the company they confort with. 
 To this end they bear with the grofl^efl indignities from 
 the great, that they may appear great to the htde, and 
 to the vulgar. They fubmit, like flaves, to the mofl 
 fcurvy treatment from thofe above, that, while they hang 
 by them, they may tread with difdain on their equals and 
 
 inferiors* 
 
Pride an Humbler, 27^ 
 
 mferiors. This is but a pitiful fort of grandeur. It is 
 generally in this clafs of men that pride begets jealoufy 
 and envy, the loweil and bafeft of its offspring. The 
 envious man hath a great abundance of pride, but not 
 enough to hinder him from perceiving, that others have 
 more merit than himfelf; and therefore, as he cannot 
 faife himfelf to a level with them, he ufes all his endea- 
 vours to pull them down, by detraftion, to the low fitu- 
 ation of efteem where his own want of worth hath riveted 
 him. He cannot rife ; nor can he bear that any one 
 fiiould be above him in the opinion, perhaps, of thofe, 
 whofe eftcem, after ail, is not worth the having, becaufc 
 they cannot judge. 
 
 The proud man cares not for the company of wife men, 
 becaufe they outfhine him in converfation. Nay, he is 
 very unwilling to advife with them, unlefs in cafes of ex- 
 tremity, becaufe their judgments overtop his. There is 
 nothing he is fo vain of as of his underllanding •, for 
 which reafon, if another happens to advife him to that 
 which he was about to do of himfelf, he will rather change 
 his meafures, than feem in the leafl to have leaned on the 
 judgment of another. This is an infinite difadvantage to 
 him ; becaufe, while the humble hath all the fenfible peo- 
 ple of his acquaintance to improve by, and to form a 
 -council of, the proud is always growing more weak and 
 foolifh, by means of the fools he afTociates with, and 
 afTimilates himfelf to. In fuch affairs as are too delicate 
 and difficult for his underllanding, he is left intirely to 
 himfelf, and ftands alone -, while people, too wife or cun- 
 ning for him, are pufhing at him". He walks alone thro* 
 a path he fees not a fingle ftep of ; for nothing is fo blind 
 as pride. From hence proceed his frequent falls and 
 blunders, which bring on him the ridicule of all who 
 know him : Seefi thou a man who is wife in his own con- 
 ceit ? There is more hope of a fool than of him •, for^ ihink^ 
 ing bi7nfelf wife, he becomes foolifh ; and falls, of courfe, 
 into the contempt of every body but himfelf. 
 
 Nothing hinders improvement in knowlege fo much 
 as pride. It will not bear conviction •, for that is to be 
 outdone. It will not bear information •, for you can tell 
 
 T 2 ' \X 
 
i.y6 Pride an HumMer. 
 
 it nothing it did not know before. It negletSls ufeful 
 knowlege, becaofe common ; and hunts for ftrange, for 
 curious, articles of learning, to make a figure with. This 
 fort of pride is called conceit •, and is rather troublefome 
 than hurtful, unlefs in matters of religion, where it does 
 a world of mifchief, and is the fpring of almoft all the 
 herefies and fchifms that have ever peftered the church. 
 When two conceited perfons happen to fall into a religious 
 difpute, be it about a matter of confequence, or a trifle, 
 about the neceffity of revelation, or the length of Paul's 
 cloke, they will fo manage it, as to go flill farther and 
 farther from truth, and lay the foundation of a bitter and 
 Jafting enmity, which all the wifdom and charity of reli- 
 gion fhall never be able to reconcile. 
 
 The things of the world, that are moft apt to tempt us to 
 pride, are, at the fame time, the moft difpofed to mortify it. 
 Some fools are vain of their families •, but it is hard to 
 tell for what reafon. They cannot glory in the bad adlions 
 of their anceflors, and their good ones are but a reproach 
 to their follies and vices. Is it only becaufe they were 
 rich, that their poflerity are fo vain ? If this be the cafe, 
 why do they not think more highly of him, who is now 
 raifing a fortune, than of themfelves,_who have fquandered 
 one away ? Altho' they defpife the man who is lately grown 
 rich, becaufe his anceftors were poor ; yet their whole 
 compliment is paid to riches, without at all confidering 
 whether the fortunes made by their anceftors were not 
 fcrapcd together by the moft infamous frauds, and the 
 moft cruel opprefTion ; which if they were, thefe men 
 have no better reafon to be vain of their families, than 
 the fon of a pirate or a robber, who is left in wealthy 
 circumftances by the iniquity of his father. There is no 
 man more defpifed than he who values himfelf upon the 
 borrowed honours of his family ; for every one knows, 
 that he would not be vain of fuch imputed credit, had he 
 any real worth of his own. 
 
 As to riches, there is this of meannefs in them, that 
 they are lent by Providence, to thofe who poflefs them, as 
 alms are given to beggars j for the rich come into the 
 
 world. 
 
Pride an Huinhler, 277 
 
 world, and go out of it, poor and naked •, and, if they 
 are covetous, they are more needy than the beggar, who 
 wants but a little. Surely, now, it is not great, to have 
 great wants. There is nothing more fenfelefs, and, of 
 confequcnce, more defpicable, than the vanity of him, 
 who, altho' he be not fix feet high, altho* his weight may 
 be found by a moderate pair of fcales ; altho* his belly 
 may be filled by a few pounds of food in the day, and 
 his back covered by a few yards of cloth ; yet takes it 
 into his head to covet all the food, and all the cloth, in 
 the world -, and, altho' he is already mafter of an inex- 
 hauftible fortune, perhaps of a crown, thinks himfelf 
 hampered in a kingdom, ilretching three hundred leagues 
 every way ; and therefore, to give himfelf more room, 
 and better fupply his necelTities, fets himfelf to acquire 
 all the land in the whole world, to add city to city^ and 
 land to landt till there be no place. For this important 
 end, the lives of millions, fubjedls as well as enemies, 
 are to be facrificed, and mifery and defolation fpread over 
 the face of the earth. Confidered in this light, every 
 one in his fenfes would call fuch a perfon a madman. But 
 the reft of mankind only call him covetous, or ambitious, 
 becaule they generally find in themfelves the fame endiefa 
 and infatiable defire. Thus it is that the proud pofTefibr 
 of wealth and power falls into extreme neceiTity ; and, 
 altho' mailer of much, is in miferable diftrefs, becaufe 
 not pofTcfied of all. And what do the covetous and am- 
 bitious ftruggle for .'' It is only to be greateft in this world, 
 that is, to be uppermoft on a dunghil ; and, in this piti- 
 ful contention, they little care how deeply they flounder 
 in the filth of treachery, perjury, extortion, oppreffion, 
 rapine, ilaughter. 
 
 A man, who hath employments and places of honour, 
 meets with great refped from all forts of people ; and 
 of this he is vain. But the compliment of refped: is by 
 no means paid to him ; for, let thefe places be taken from 
 him, and given to the vilefl of men, and all this refpedt 
 fhall immediately quit the old poficlfor, and follow the 
 places •, by which he may learn, that all the flattery and 
 condefcenfion he was fed with, was only a grofs fort of 
 
 T 3 banter 
 
^yS Tride an Humbler, 
 
 banter upon his pride ; and that all the cringes he fo 
 vainly took to himfelf, were only fo many bows made to 
 the place he ftood in. Yet this is not enough to humble 
 him ; he is ftill vain of what he was, vain of the ghoft 
 of his departed grandeur, which, when it was at its 
 height, was but the (hadow of refpeft. 
 
 Thus do the perfons and things of this world confpirc 
 to bear down that pride, which they tempt the vain-glo- 
 rious heart of man to. But there is nothing brings a man 
 lb low as want of religion, which turns him into a brute 
 in this world, and a devil in the next. Now pride is the 
 greateft enemy to true religion : 'The proud man careth not 
 for God, neither is God in all his thoughts. It was pride 
 hindered the Jews from becoming Chriftians. They ex- 
 peded a temporal MefTiah, a mighty emperor of this 
 world, who fhould make kings and lords of them all. 
 They had given this out every- where, and flaked the 
 credit of their prophecies on the event. When our Sa- 
 viour, therefore, came, they looked on him with infinite 
 contempt. Even the people about Galilee^ who could not 
 be very high in the world, faid, " Is not this the carpen* 
 *' ter^s fon, brought forth in a ft able, and laid in a man- 
 ** ger ? Don't we know his relations ^ Are they not 
 *', among the meaneft of the people? It is true, he is 
 *' defcended from David, but David was himfelf a fhep^ 
 *' herd before he was a king ; and, tho' his family was 
 ** afterwards ennobled by a fucceflion of kings, yet it 
 *' hath been long funk in obfcurity and poverty. There 
 ** hath not been, for fome ages, a confiderable fortune 
 *' either in the line of Mary or Jofeph. What this man 
 *' fays, therefore, ought to go for nothing. Altho' he 
 *' Ihould fpeak as never man fpake -, altho' his wifdom 
 •* fhould exceed that of men and angels ; altho' his mi- 
 ^' racles fhould teftify a more than human power ; yet 
 •' his eloquence is but impertinence ; his wifdom, mad- 
 " nefs i and his miracles, magic j for what is he, but the 
 *' fon of a carpenter .'' And what would he perfuade us 
 ** to do ? Why, to deny the world, and fink to a level 
 *' with himfelf." The Rabbi's, in the pride of human 
 learning, faid to themfclves, *' What education had this 
 
 *» Jefus 
 
Pride an Humbler, 170 
 
 ** Jefus of Nazareth ? Or upon what improvements do 
 " his followers, who are fi(hermen and tent-makefs, fee 
 *' up for preachers and orators ? Are they not the moft 
 *' ignorant of men ? Shall we fubmit our minds, cultivated 
 *' already with the deepeft refinements, to the tutorage of 
 ** fuch novices as thefe ? Shall they perfuade us to renounce 
 " our Rabbinical wifdom, and fell all we poffefs, and take 
 '* up a crofs, and follow fuch a leader ?" Thus the Jewijh 
 people rejected Chrift, becaufe he was not a gentleman ; 
 and their doflors defpifed his religion, becaufe he was 
 not bred at an univerfity •, and thus reafons the fame fort 
 of people to this day. The worldly-wife, and the con- 
 ceited philofopher, look on the wifdom of the Gofpel as 
 foolifhnefs. The great contemn its humble and fejf- 
 denying fpirit. The men of pleafure make a jeft of its 
 mortifications. Now, altho' it hath not for many ages 
 been a difparagement to be a Chriftian, becaufe fo many 
 great men profefs themfelves fuch ; yet it is generally be- 
 neath the great to be Chriftians in good earneft ; infomuch 
 that the little man, who fets up to be fomewhat, lays the 
 main ftrefs of his endeavour to diftinguilh himfelf from 
 the vulgar, on an affe6led fheW of indifference for reli- 
 gion J poorly aping, in this, the follies and vices of 
 greater men, becaufe he is unable to imitate them in any 
 thing that is better. Pride never throws a man down fo 
 low, as when it makes him an apellate to religion ; be- 
 caufe, from a fall to the depths of infidelity, brutality, 
 and diabolifm, there is no rifing again. He who thus 
 falls, is for ever finking deeper, and plunging farther, 
 into vice and infamy, till at laft he becomes the outcaft 
 of God, and the whole creation, and takes up his final 
 abode in endlefs mifery and fhame, with the original au- 
 thor of pride and apoftafy. 
 
 All this, which is fo manifeft from experience, is made 
 ftill more evident by the Holy Scriptures •, which are full 
 of ftrong aflbrances, that the crown of pride Jhall he trod 
 under foot ; that, when pride cometh^ then cometh fhame % 
 and that he who exalteth himfelf floall be ahafed. There 
 are alfo many examples in facred hiftory, no lefs terribly 
 
 T 4 threatening 
 
aSo Tride an Humbler. 
 
 threatening pride with a fall, than the afore-mentioned 
 aflbrances. 
 
 Pride changed Lucifer, from the mod glorious angel 
 of light, into the moil defpicable devil. 
 
 Pride threw Eve, who hoped, by eating the forbidden 
 fruit, to be made as God, out of paradife, into a world 
 full of mifery, fhame, and death. 
 
 Pride made the fons of Jacob fell their brother ; by 
 which they were brought at length to throw themfelv/s 
 down before that object of their envy, in the greateft 
 diftrefs, and the moft abjed fears. 
 
 Pride, which would not fuffer Saul to enjoy the praifes 
 of thofe who fali he flew his thoufands, becaufe the fame 
 perfons faid, David flew his ten thoufands, puflied him 
 into all manner of impiety and excefles, infomuch that 
 God forfook him, and gave his crown lo the man he 
 hated. 
 
 Pride brought Haman to hanfel that lofty gallows he 
 had ere(5i:ed for a much better man than himfclf. 
 
 Pride caufed the good Hezekiah to expofe his treafures 
 to the embaffadors of the king of Babylon -, which was 
 followed by a fudden denunciation of God's difpleafure, 
 and brought the Babylonians to deflroy his country. 
 
 ■ Pride brought Nebuchadnezzar down from the throne, 
 while the very words of boafl:ing and vanity were yet in 
 his mouth ,to eat grafs as an ox, and numjbered him with 
 the beaflis of the field. 
 
 Pride lifted up the heart of Beljhazzar againfl: the God 
 of heaven i and in that fame night he was flain, and his 
 kingdom given to Darius the Median. 
 
 Upon a vain confidence in himfelf, St Peter was by 
 Almighty God left to himfelf for a time j and in that time 
 he forfwore his Mafl:er. 
 
 The Pharifce in the temple, who applauded his own 
 righteoufnefs, and vilified the penitent publican, had a 
 very difi^erent judgment pafled on him by him who faid 
 on that occafion, Every one thai exalteth himfelf Jh all be 
 fi^hafed, 
 
 ■ What muft thofe difciples of our Saviour have thought 
 of themfelves, whq, having difputed about fupcriority, 
 
 snd 
 
Pritk an Humbler. jSi 
 
 and claimed the privilege Ci{ fitting at his right hand^ 
 and at his left, in the kingdom of heaven, when they after- 
 wards faw their Divine Mailer girded with a towel, and 
 wafhing their feet ? 
 
 From what hath been faid, it is plain, iihat pride is 
 hateful both to God and man •, and that it was lot made 
 for men, a very moderate acquaintance with human in- 
 firmity is fufficient to convince us ; for man, being the 
 offspring of the dull, inherits all the meannefs and frailty 
 of his original. Why, then, is earth and ajhes frond? 
 There is, indeed, all the reafon in the world that it ihould 
 not; and no one will own that he is; for, altho' pride 
 proceeds from felf-love, yet it isalhamed of itfelf. Al- 
 tho* pride is the caufe of impudence, and the proud man 
 is hardly ever afhamed of any thing elfe, he is neverthe- 
 lefs a(hamed of his pride, or rather cannot be perfuaded 
 he hath any ; for he who is drunk with pride, is exadlly 
 like him who is drunk with ftrong liquor ; he cannot dif 
 cover his own diforder, but thinks he fees it in every-body 
 t\{t, even in the mod humble ; as the other, in the molt 
 fober. Pride, being the excefs of feif-love and felf- 
 efteem, the firfl and mod inward affeftions of the mind, 
 lies too near the foul to be difcerned by it, as the eye- 
 lids are too clofe to the eye to be feen. 
 
 Hence it is more difficult to cure a man of riiis vice, 
 than of any other; becaufe it is next to impolTible to 
 convince him that he is at ail fubjed to it, Befides, as 
 this vice makes a man bUnd in refped to itftlf, fo it ren* 
 ders him deaf to reproof; infomuch that he who attacks 
 it in the man who loves him moft, is fure to raife an 
 high degree of refentment, let his delicacy and addrels 
 be never lb great ; and every one knows how great an 
 obftacle a quarrel may be to the fuccefs of any advice 
 that may follow it. 
 
 Seofible and thinking minds, however, can perceive 
 fome traces of this vice in themfclves ; and thofe who 
 are lefs acute, or lels impartial, may be informed by fome 
 frank acquaintance, or fome reproachful enemy, whether 
 they are looked upon by the world as perfons fubjed to 
 pride. He who is uneafy at the applaule or profperity of 
 3 ^^^^s 
 
2S2 Pride an Humbler, 
 
 his neighbour, or who is often engaged in quarrels, or 
 who cannot bear contradidion, or who is vehement and 
 unconvincible in difputes, or who is pleafed with fcanda], 
 or who finds himfelf apt to grow warm 'upon being re- 
 proved, or Ite who loves the converfation of thofe who 
 commend him to his face, may afiure himfelf he is proud ; 
 for, when pride cannot be feen itfeif, it may be difcovered 
 by its effefls. 
 
 Thofe, who have feeling enough to perceive them- 
 felves addidled to this diabolical paffion, in order to ex- 
 tinguilh it, would do well to afk themfelves, Whether 
 they are willing to be abafed by God, for exalting them- 
 felves before men ? Whether there is any thing fubftan- 
 tial, and really beneficial, in the breath of applaufe ? 
 Whether it is not more difficult to earn the praifes of men, 
 than the favour of God ? Whether, if they had gained 
 the favourable report of all that know them, they could 
 reafonably hope for the continuance of fuch a character 
 among perfons fo fickle, and apt to change. Such per- 
 fons as are at prefent balking in the funfhine of applaufe, 
 would do well to confider the words of our Saviour •, Woe 
 he to you when all men fpeak well of you ; on which St. 
 Chryfojtom puts this excellent queftion : *' If, in order to 
 " know the goodnefs of any piece of work, you would 
 " choofe to advife with a workman fkilied in that kind of 
 *' manfadlure ; why would you make the multitude judges 
 *' of your virtue, rather than God ? God, who is the author 
 *' of virtue, knows what it is, and will reward it with 
 *' eternal glory. But the multitude, who are corrupt and 
 " vicious themfelves, can neither be fufficient judges, nor 
 *' rewarders of it. For, after having flighted the appro- 
 *' bation of God, to court the applaufes of the croud, 
 '* you lofe your reward with God •, and the croud that 
 *' now applauds you, fhall foon forget or befpatter you." 
 This woe, denounced in the text, and thus explained, is 
 in itfeif a fufficient caution againfl vain-glory. 
 
 But further : A Chriftian fhould confider, that, unlefs 
 the mind be in him that was in Chrift Jefus^ he cannot be 
 united to Chrift ; for whoever is, mufl be governed by 
 the mind of Chrift. Now Chrift, who, being e^ual to 
 
 Cody 
 
Fride an Humbler, 283 
 
 Cod, took upon him the form of a fervant, and became 
 obedient to death, even to the death of the crofs, was a pat- 
 tern of infinite humility. From an head fo meek and 
 lowly, every member fwollen with pride muft cxped to 
 be for ever cut off. 
 
 Again : Let the Chriftian confider, that, unlefs he wean 
 himfelf of his pride, he can never expedt to be admitted 
 into the kingdom of heaven, from whence the deviJ was 
 thrown for that very rebellious paflion. He who is ad- 
 mitted into heaven, fees numerous orders and hofts of 
 blefled beings placed above him, and (landing nearer the 
 throne of glory than himfelf. Now were the proud man, 
 who can fuffer no one above him, advanced to that happy 
 kingdom, this preference would fill him with fuch envy 
 and difcontent, as could not fail, in refped to him, of 
 turning heaven itfelf into hell. 
 
 But again : Let the proud man, for once, confider what 
 it is he values himfelf upon, and how very infignificant or 
 minute that real or imaginary advantage is, for which he 
 prefers himfelf to other men. Perhaps he is, by one fmali 
 degree, more wealthy, more powerful, or more knowing, 
 than this or that neighbour ; and therefore, while he looks 
 downward, is tempted to regard himfelf as fomewhat 
 confiderable. But he ought to look upward, that he 
 may learn humility, by comparing himlelf with thofe who 
 ftand far above him in any of thofe refpe£ls. And, even 
 fuppofing he can fee none above him, and that he is in- 
 vefted with a very extended and abfolute power, with im- 
 perial wealth, and with the knowlege of a Newton ; does 
 he not fhrink to almoft nothing, when compared with a 
 fuperior Being ? Does he not dwindle, on this comparifon, 
 to a beggar, or an idiot } And hath not fuch a being rea- 
 fon to look on the pride arifing from the trifling differ- 
 wee between this man and his inferiors, juft as a giant 
 looks on the pride of one dwarf that overtops another by 
 the advantage of an inch in ftature, which he gains per- 
 haps by a bit of leather, or a piece of cork, placed under 
 his heel .? Does not his pride (loop very low, who fuffers 
 himfelf to be lifted up by a preference fo ridiculoufly in- 
 fignificanE .'* The pride of man, viewed in this light, be- 
 wrays. 
 
2^4 pride an Humbler. 
 
 wrays, indeed, fomewhat extremely abjefl and contempti- 
 ble. 
 
 Laftly : Let the proud man, if he can, look impar- 
 tially into himfelf, and there he will find enough to hum- 
 ble him. It is impoffible for that man to be vain-glorious, 
 who knows himfelf. For what is man, whofe breath is in ' 
 his nojirils, whofe life is a thin vapour, whofe days are 
 fwifter than a pojl, and full of evil ♦, whofe ftrength is 
 weaknefs, and his wifdom ignorance and folly ? And what 
 hath man that he did not receive, and mull not account 
 for to the owner ? All he poflefTes is borrowed, and muft 
 be reftored ; nay, he does not even belong to himfelf. 
 Let him give back to God his natural talents, his beauty, 
 his ftrength, his riches, his worldly pomp and power; 
 let him reftore to men the little knowlege he received by 
 inftru6tion i let him render to the beafts his cloathing, to 
 the worms his finery, to the earth and the dunghil his 
 delicacies, to the rocks his fhining ftones ; and what is 
 left? An ignorant and vicious mind, a naked and ftarv- 
 ing body, a wretch, precarious, dependent, infirm, and 
 helplefs ; whom any beaft, nay, the fmalleft infeft, or a 
 blaft of wind, can deftroy -, who feeds on dirt, and fub- 
 fifts on a momentary fupply of air. Shall we call him 
 afhes, or duft, or fmoke, or dirt ? This, as St. Chryfojlom 
 obferves, will only reprefent his vilenefs and infirmity ; 
 butj to paint that, and his fwelling vanity too, let us fay 
 he is a bubble, pufi^ed up with the wind of other bubbles, 
 which with difficulty he contains for a while in a frail 
 bladder of water; and, being tofied to and fro on the tide 
 of life, foon vanifhes, and is feen no more. 
 
 Come down, vain man, from the throne which thy va- 
 nity and thy flatterers have ereded for thee in thy own 
 imagination, and behold thyfelf fpringing from the duft, 
 and borrowing all thou art fo highly vain of from the 
 fame original. Behold thy heart polluted and enflaved 
 by mean appetites, and brutal paffions ; and thy boafted 
 reafon impofed on by flight appearances, hoodwinked 
 with childifli ignorance, and mifled by fiiameful errors. 
 Behold thy body fubjedt to accidents, afflided with fick- 
 nefs, and deftroyed by death, which fl:ands at thy fide, 
 
 waiting 
 
Pride an Humbler, 28c 
 
 waiting for the fignal to ftrike thee down. But, above 
 all, remember thy fins, thy many open and fecret fins, 
 and behold thyfelf led by them, hke a flave, far from 
 thy known happinefs, thro' a coiirfe of life condemned 
 by thy own reafon and confcience to endlefs dilgrace and 
 mifery. Behold this piiflure of thyfelf ; confider it at- 
 tentively ; and then tell us, canft thou be proud ? No, 
 furely ; it is impoflible : And therefore, 
 
 Not unto man, O Lord^ not unto man, hut unto thy 
 holy and glorious Name, be afcribed all honour, and dig- 
 nity, and majefty, for ever. Amen. 
 
 D I S- 
 
[285] 
 
 DISCOURSE xvir. 
 
 The Dignity of the Chriftian Miniftry. 
 Preached at a Viiitation in i75"i. 
 
 St. M A R K X. 43, 44. 
 
 IVJjofoever will be great among you, Jhall he your 
 
 mlnijler : 
 And whojbever of you mil be the chief eft y fhall be 
 
 fervant of all. 
 
 FE W fubje(5ls better deferve the attention of a true 
 Believer (and to fuch only I fpeak in this Difcourfe) 
 than the Dignity of the Chriftian Miniftry. It is true, it 
 concerns us above all things to think attentively, in order 
 that we may think rightly, on the fundamental principles 
 of our religion. But, as thofe principles are conveyed to 
 us through the Clergy, we fee they generally partake of 
 that efteem or contempt, wherewith the Clergy are re- 
 garded. 
 
 Hence it comes to pafs, that the opinions people en- 
 tertain of their teachers do very materially alTift, or ob- 
 ftrud, their own edification ; unhappily for the moft 
 part obftru6l it, fometimes by fweetening the errors of a 
 favourite teacher j but infinitely oftener by imbittering the 
 
 truth 
 
7he dignity of the Chriftlan Minljlry, 287 
 
 truth In the ears of fuch as are forced to hear it from per- 
 fons they do not like. 
 
 It were to be wifhed, indeed, that all men could think 
 of our religion, as it is in itfelf, invariably wife, holy> 
 and awful ; without attending, fo much as they do, to 
 the good or ill qualities of its preachers, which have little 
 more connexion with its truth or falfity, than the good or 
 ill qualities of other Chriftians. But that the cafe is other- 
 wife, in faft, daily experience may convince us. It will 
 by no means content the world, that we appear to be pro- 
 perly commiflioned, unlefs they have reafon alfo to think 
 us duly qualified. Whatsoever degree of refped, ordif- 
 refpe6l, they may entertain for our pretentions to fcri- 
 ptural inftitution, if they hold our underftandings and 
 morak in efteem, they will liften to us ; if in contempt, 
 they will turn a deaf ear to all we can fay •, for they know, 
 as well as we do, that the bulk of what we fay to them, 
 being the produce of our own minds, may, according to 
 the degree of our honefly, and of our ability in the Scri- 
 ptures, be more or lefs agreeable to the mind of God. If 
 therefore the Clergy are refpedted, they will be heard, not 
 otherwife. 
 
 Now, purfuant to what hath been premifed, the refpe<5fc 
 paid to them, fo far as piety is permitted to interfere in 
 the matter, will be in proportion to the charafter they ap- 
 pear to be invefted with in the holy Scripture ; and fo far 
 as their hearers are governed by obiervation, or experi- 
 ence, according to the charai5ler they give themfelves by 
 the moral part of their behaviour, and by the difcharge 
 of that facred office they alTume. 
 
 And firft, as to the minifterial chara6ler fet forth in 
 holy Scripture, it is expreiTed in terms, that intimate, as 
 you may obferve, an equal degree of humility and dig- 
 nity. JVhofoever will be great among you, pall he your 
 tninijicr, and whofoever will be chief eji, Jhall be fervant of 
 all. Here is plainly fig.ified a certain dignity and pre- 
 eminence of fome, who are to be greater than others, and 
 chief among their brethren -, and yet, at the fame time, 
 with this dignity is joined a proportionable humility, on 
 v/hich the very dignity is founded ; for, in order to his 
 
 future 
 
1 88 The dignity of the Chrijllan MiniJIry. 
 
 future exaltation, the mefienger of Chrift mud humble 
 himfeif here; muft of himfelf take the loweft feat, before 
 his Mailer will promote him to one that is higher ; muft 
 make himfelf little and inconfiderable in one refpecSt, in 
 order to be great and chief in another ; that is, the 
 higher he is advanced in fpiritual, the more regardlefs 
 ought he to be of mere worldly pre-eminence ; for the 
 fame reafon, perhaps, that a king thinks that precedency 
 not worth his claiming, which the loweft of mankind 
 yields to him, who is but one degree above him. Indeed 
 he who hath ever tafted that internal grandeur, which 
 fprings from the confcioufnefs of real worth, of religious 
 honours, will have little relifh for outward pomp and 
 parade ; his foul will foar above it, to the dignity of 
 Chriftian humility. Thus we fee, in thefe words of our 
 Saviour, that we muft all be fervants one to another ; and 
 that, in order to gratify the higheft ambition we are per- 
 mitted to entertain. 
 
 If all the paflages of Scripture, relating to the dignity 
 of our fundion, are fairly weighed and compared toge- 
 ther, none will be found to do us more honour, than thofe 
 in which we are ftiled the fervav^s of Chrift ; and yet none 
 more ftrongly inculcate the humility efiential to that 
 fundion ; for even our Mafter took on kirn the form of a 
 fervant^ and came not io be minijiered unto, hut to minijter. 
 To minifter to whom ? Why, to the foul of the very 
 roeaneft man, that ftiould believe on him. Accordingly, 
 what can be more humble, what more minifterial, than 
 the carnage of this exalted Being ^ This King of kings 
 fubmirs himfelf, not only to the majefty of his Father, 
 but to every ordinance of man. This Lord of lords girds 
 himfelf 'with a towel, and wafjjes the feet of his difciples. 
 This Creator of all things, this Ruler of heaven, is con- 
 rented to be fpit on, buffeted, crucified. And in all this 
 recommends his example to us his fervants, with a reafon, 
 %vhich all tfie cvafions of pride can never parry ; Verily^ 
 •verily, I fay unto you^ the fervant is not greater than his 
 Lord; neither he that is fent, greater than he that fent 
 him. If they have perfecuted me, they will perfecute yotf. 
 
 With 
 
The dignity of the Chrijilan Mini fir y. 2S9 
 
 With fuch an example, fet us by the Son of God him- 
 felf, fet us, who are but dull and afhes, we muft be loft 
 to common fenfe, and common modefty, if we prefumeto 
 carry ourfelves above either the humbled duty of our 
 office, or the meaneft mortal to whom that duty may be 
 due. 
 
 But, fince the office of the Clergy appears to be fet fo 
 low in holy Scripture, it may now be afked, wherein the 
 dignity of that office confifts, as fet forth by the fame 
 Scripture ? 
 
 The dignity of this facred office is reprefented to us in 
 terms fo ftrong, and in a flile fo high, by the Holy Spirit, 
 that, were not the words dictated by that very Spirit, and 
 did not the neceffity of the thing prefs me to it, as I am 
 unworthily vefted with that awful office myfelf, I fhould 
 choofe, confcious of my own miferable unfitnefs for fo 
 holy a funiftion, to be filent on a fubjedt, much fitter for 
 the minds of the laity, than the mouths of the Clergy. 
 However, before 1 have done with it, I hope to fet it in 
 fuch a light, as may induce my brethren and myfelf to 
 draw arguments for humility, nay, for fear and trembling, 
 rather than for pride and prefumption, from that very 
 dignity. 
 
 So neceflary is the Miniftry to the propagation of 
 Chriftian knowlege, and, by that means, to the reformation 
 and eternal happinefs of mankind, that our blelTed Saviour 
 himfelf calls thofe, who are honoured with it, the fait of 
 the earthy without which it muft become corrupt and 
 fetid before God •, and the light of the worldy without 
 which it muft ftill fit in darknefs, in the darknefs of ido- 
 latry and wickedncfs. Let a Chriftian, (I fpcak to the 
 reafon, the faith, the confcience, of a real Chriftian) afk 
 himfelf, how he can hold thofe in contempt, whom his 
 Saviour emblazons with fo noble a coat, and not remem- 
 ber, at the fame time, the other words of our Saviour, 
 He that defpifes you^ defpifes me ; and he that defpifes me, 
 defpifes him that fent me. 
 
 Again, the Clergy are in holy Scripture cAhdfhepherdsy 
 the fhepherds to whofe care that flock is committed^ which 
 Cod hath pur chafed with his own blood, 
 
 Vol.11. V Again, 
 
a^o The Dignity of the Chrifiian Mimjlry. 
 
 Again, they are called teachers^ teachers of heavenly" 
 wifdom, and faving righteoufnefs, to a people, who, if 
 dellitute of fuch inftrudors, mult fpend their days in 
 fhameful ignorance, and horrible wickednefs j and die at 
 laft like the beajl that perijheth. 
 
 Again, they are called fiewards^ Jlewards of the mani' 
 fold grace^ and the mvfieries of God j without whofe inter- 
 vention, as Chrift hath pleafed to conftitute his church, 
 neither the Spirit of God, nor the feal of the covenant, 
 adminiftred in the holy facraments, can be conveyed to 
 any man *, for no man taketh this honour unto himfelfy but 
 he that is called of God. 
 
 And to raife their character ftill higher, they arc digni- 
 fied with the title of Chrift's apoftles^ and even with that 
 of amhaffadors and angels from the high God, who fpeaks 
 to the people by their mouths, who walhes away their fins, 
 and holds forth the precious body and blood of his Son, 
 by their hands. 
 
 If, from the fcriptural characters, we defcend to the 
 execution of their office in its various branches, we fhali 
 be (truck with a molt exalted idea both of its beauty and 
 dignity. 
 
 What reverence is due to thofe, who faithfully deliver, 
 and ably defend, that word, of which its great Author 
 fays. Heaven and earth JJjall pafs away^ but my wordfhall 
 not pafs away. 
 
 How tenderly ought they to be loved ! how highly 
 ought they to be refpefted ! who, with the requifite dil- 
 cretion, adminifter abfolution to the penitent, and, in the 
 bowels of Chriltian charity, apply the other confolations 
 of the Gofpel, to fuch as, through a deep fenfe of their 
 fins, dare hardly hope for the promifed mercy ; to fuch as 
 welter in the tortures of a fick bed -, to fuch as hang in the 
 agonies of death, between heaven and hell, and do not of 
 themfelves know how to fupport their Ipirits, or guide 
 their ftcps, through the dark and dreadful pafTage ! 
 
 With what veneration ought we to look up to thofe, 
 who, without refpedt of perlbns, humble the proud and 
 ftubborn with the terrors of the Lord, and brandifh the 
 awful thunders of his word, againit the dignified vices of 
 
 the 
 
The Dignity of the Chrijlian Minijtry, Sp I 
 
 the great ! How are they to be efteemed by, not only 
 every Chriftian, but every worthy fon of his country, every 
 friend to civil fociety, who reform the vicious, who con- 
 firm the virtuous, who> in the name of God, and by the 
 power of true religion, labour to ftrengthen the founda- 
 tions of civil government, that cannot ftand but on reli- 
 gion ; and who fpend their days, and, if they are truly 
 the minifters of Chrifl, would lay down their lives, for 
 that important caufe, on which. absolutely depends all that 
 is of any importance to mankind, here^ or hereafter. 
 
 So greatly important is the religion we preach, andj of 
 confequence, fo highly honourable is the office of preach- 
 ing it : For we preach that religion, (let the world hear, 
 and the Clergy fear) for which man was made, for which 
 fo many miracles were wrought, for which the red 
 fea was divided, and mount Sinai cloathed with fire and 
 thunder \ for which the fick were healed, the dead raifed^ 
 the devils ejeded ; that religion, for which the prophets, 
 the apoftles, the martyrs, laboured and fufFered •, for 
 which the Son of God defcended from the throne of 
 heaven, took on him the nature of man, wasperfecuted^ 
 buffeted, fpit on, ridiculed — for which he died. 
 
 If to preach fuch a religion as this, be not a work of 
 high honour and dignity, then furely there is no dignity, 
 not to fay in the kingdoms of this world, but even in the 
 celeftial principalities, promifed to the righteous. If there 
 is no honour in fuch a charge as this, then may the robes 
 and enfigns of royalty look dim, and the thrones and 
 fcepters of kings hide themfelves in obfcurity ; for this 
 world is nothing, and heaven itfelf is nothing. 
 
 After what hath been faid, it may be alked, how (o 
 much grandeur is to be reconciled with fo much lowlinefsj 
 in the fame perfon, and with refpeft to the fame office ^ 
 
 Chrift hath already anfwered the queftion *, for he laid. 
 My kingdom is not of this world. As his minifters derive 
 all their dignity from him, and from the ftation they hold 
 in his kingdom, which is purely fpiritual, fo their dignity 
 is only fpirituah Now, with the higheit pitch of this dig- 
 nity, the utmoft lowlinefs is furely as confiftent, as the 
 
 U 2 infinite 
 
25>2 The T>igntty of the Chrijiian Minijlry. 
 
 infinite majefty of our Saviour's perfon was with this unex- 
 ampled humility of all his carriage. Perhaps it may be 
 truly faid, that, to a difcerning eye, he never appeared 
 among men in higher glory, than when he v/afhed the 
 feet of his difciples. The keys of heaven and hell were 
 in thofe hands, that performed this lowed office of a fer- 
 vant. At leaft, I will venture to aflfert, that the higheft 
 minifter of his church appears with more real dignity, 
 "when he enters a cottage to difpenfc his alms both to the 
 foul and body of a beggar, than when he fhews himfelf in 
 the utmoft fplendor of his office on the epifcopal throne. 
 In this the envious, at leaft, will think he alTumes ; which 
 hath in it the littlenefs of vanity ; whereas, in that, every 
 one muft fee he condefcends j and condelcenfion fuppofes 
 as much grandeur, as it demonftrates humility. 
 
 With whatfoever outward magnificence the ftatc, in 
 its pif ty and prudence, may have thought fit to inveft the 
 characier of a minifter, he ihould, however, remember 
 the true, the genuine dignity of his function ; and fhould 
 be abcve (looping to fo mean a pride, as that of afTuming, 
 on account of the bells and fringes hung on him by this 
 wretched world •, which, after all the compliment of thefe 
 extT^ai things, always looks with a jealous, often with a 
 contemptuous eye on him, who feems to value himfelf on 
 account of thefe invidious, thefe interfering honours. 
 Let him, therefore, defpife the frippery of worldly gran- 
 deur, and ftand as high as he pleales on that grandeur of 
 his calHng, which his Mafter allows him. Here mankind 
 will be ready to yield him all the refped he hath a right to 
 claim ; provided he confines himfelf to this, and willingly 
 refigns to the world its own proper pomps and vanities, 
 which he renounced when he was baptized. 
 
 By this I do not mean, that religion ffiould be ftripped 
 of all exterior ornament, or, that they who prefide in its 
 facred offices fhould appear in a flovenly meannels j but 
 that this kind of pomp fhould be evidently fo applied, as 
 to add a dignity rather to the office itfelf, than to the 
 pcrfons of thofe who fill it. This foreign grandeur is no 
 iboner detached from the fundlion to the man, than it 
 
 excites 
 
l^je T>tgmfy of the Chrijllan Minljiry. 293 
 
 excites envy, inftead of refpe(5t, and difdain, inftead of 
 veneration. 
 
 The feeming deference paid even to the more exalted 
 part of the Clergy, (fo much of it at leaft as is attraded by 
 outward (hew and figure) is as outward, is as fuperficial, 
 to the full, as that to which it is paid. It is but the mere 
 vizard of refpeft ; and even when there is any thing of 
 reality under it, fure I am, Chrift and his religion have no 
 fhare of it. And yet, as matters go, and (I am forry to 
 fay it) are likely to go, this complimental fort of refpedt 
 is all we have got, in the place of that pious veneration, 
 which a fmcere Chriftian never fails to entertain for a good 
 clergyman. 
 
 If it is aflced now, by what means we may recover a 
 more folid and ufeful refpedl ; I anfwer (and truth itfelf 
 jhall be my voucher) that, in cafe we have fenfe and good- 
 nefs (I had almoil faid ambition) enough to feek our 
 honour, where the nature of our employment fixes it, 
 the way lies flreight before us ; we are to have recourfe, 
 in the firft place, to a thorough reformation of whatfoever 
 is amifs in our morals •, and then, to thofe means, which, 
 when united and patronized by a good example, ever 
 were, and ever mud be, attended with fuccefs. Of thefe 
 means, I fhall only infifl: on a few -, for which, at prefent, 
 there feems to be a more than ordinary call. 
 
 The firft is natural capacity, and a thorough knowlege 
 of the Chriftian religion. He who, without thefe, fets up 
 for a teacher, muft at leaft have a large ftock of afllirance 
 to bear him out •, for, at every turn, they who know him 
 will be pointing at him and his flock, that keen exprelTion 
 of our Saviour, If the blind lead the blind^ they Jhall both 
 fall into the ditch. Although a plain man may, in a few 
 hours, learn enough of Chriftianity to regulate his life, 
 and fave his foul -, yet a minifter of the Gofpel, who is to 
 be attacked by numberlefs oppofers, to be fifted on all 
 quettions, to fpeak to all capacities, and encounter with 
 all tempers, muft have ftrong talents, muft be well read 
 in the original languages, muft be mighty in the Scri- 
 ptures, muft be familiar with the Fathers, and the more 
 eminent modern divines. If he hath not thefe accom- 
 
 U 3 pliftiments. 
 
^94" ^^^ DigJjity of the Chrijliaii Mintflry, 
 
 plifhments, he cannot inftrii6l precifely, he cannot reafon 
 convincingly, he cannot exhort, or rebuke, powerfully. 
 Now, that clergyman, who is unable to do thefe things, 
 gives the religion he preaches a moft contemptible ap* 
 pearance of weaknefs and folly in his mouth. 
 
 Befides, there are certain more exterior accomplifhmentSj 
 almoft as neceflliry to the dignity of our office, while we 
 inftruft or perfuade, as learning itfelf. When we advife, 
 exhort, perfuade, or reprove, in private, is there not a 
 great degree of addrefs neceflary, in order to make what 
 we fay as foothing, and yet as refpeflable, as poffible ? 
 Does he not give the judicious an high idea of himfelf, 
 and confequently of his office, who probes the heart to 
 the bottom ; yet with fuch delicacy as not to hurt ? Or, 
 when hurting cannot be avoided, makes it evident he is fo 
 hurt himfelf, that his freedom cannot be refented ? Or, 
 when it is refented with injurious and reproachful returns* 
 preferves an unruffled fuperiority of mind ? 
 
 Again, in reading Divine fervice, in order to do juftice 
 to the beft liturgy any church was ever blefTed with, and 
 to preferve the dignity of fo facred an offiice, the voice, 
 the face, the pofture of the whole body, fliould exprels 
 a deep folemnity, and a lively piety. The only fecret of 
 doing this is, fo to frame the heart before we begin, as to 
 forget we are ridding ourfelves of a formal tafl^, or utter- 
 ing the devotions of others, that all the attention of our 
 tninds, and all the ardour of our hearts, being colle6ted 
 iand concentered in the awful objed, we may pray like 
 finners who follicit for the joys of heaven, and return 
 thanks with that emotion of foul, which ought to be felt 
 by him, who believes he fhall receive what he hath prayed 
 for. If we perform this duty well in regard to ourfelves, 
 as Chriftians, we cannot fail, as clergymen, of per- 
 feftion and dignity, in regard to the congregation. 
 
 When we go into the pulpit, wefhould remember that 
 a Sermon is a meal, to which few people bring a keen ap- 
 petite j and therefore fhould not think it enough to tur- 
 nifh the congregation with the wholfome food of found 
 dodrines and folid reafonings, unlefs we alfo fpice that 
 food with fentirnents the rnoft afFeding, and garnifh it 
 
 ■yyith 
 
The T>ignlty of the Cb-ijlia?i Miniftry. 29 f 
 
 with exprefiions the moft flriking, that may be had. Nor 
 i? this all ; what we fay muft lofe its whole efFed, tho* 
 never fo well prepared, if it be not enforced in the delivery, 
 with that folemn emphafis of voice, face, and gefture, 
 which becomes him who fpeaks in earneft, who fpeaks from 
 God to his people. Is it not a fliame to hear the right to a 
 cow, a fheep, or fome paltry property, contended for at 
 the bar, with more eloquence and dignity, than the higheft 
 points of faith and pradice are honoured with in the 
 pulpit ? He who contents himfelf with ftupidly drawling 
 out, or haftily chattering to his hearers, a little finical 
 affeded elTay, inftead of a weighty Difcourfe, is but a 
 forry hireling, who, having the wages, not the work, in 
 view, cares not how dcfpicable the holy office may appear 
 in his performance. 
 
 The next means I fhall take notice of, as neceffary to 
 revive the fpirit of Chriftianity, and at the fame time to 
 reftore the dignity of the miniftry, is a ftrid: fidelity in 
 thofe who fill it. We know, it is required of JiewardSj 
 that a man Jhall be found faithful. Now, we having an in-» 
 finitely more important truft committed to us, than any 
 other kind of llewards, inafmuch as we are the rninifters of 
 Chrijly and fiewards of the manifold grace and myfieries of 
 God ; and, being accountable to an all-knowing iVIafter, 
 it behoves us, more than all others, to make the utmoft 
 advantage of our talents, that, when he calls us to account 
 for them, we may receive the reward of good and faithful 
 fervants. Can any thing fet a man fo low in the eyes of 
 the world, as a manifeft want of common honefty ? And 
 can this want ever appear in fo bafe, fo fcandalous a light, 
 as in relation to a truft like ours -, wherein the things trufted 
 are the great truths of God, and the fouls of men ; and he 
 who trulls, is the infinitely juft and almighty God ? Or, 
 on the other hand, is there any thing fo likely to raife us 
 to the efteem of men, as faithful dealijig between God and 
 his people ? 
 
 Now, let us not prefume to fay we are faithful, if we 
 are not zealous for th.« truth, and for the fuccefs of that 
 t-ruth, in the fakation of our refpeftive flocks. An honefl 
 heart is always warm ; and furely, if there is any warmth 
 
 U 4 in 
 
25)6 I'he Dignity of the Chrtjlian Minijiry, 
 
 in the heart, it cannot be cool in fuch a caufe, in thecaufe 
 of God, of truth, and of man's eternal happinefs. Did 
 Chrift die for the fouls of men ? Did he truft thofe fouls, 
 thus purchafed with his precious blood, to our care ? And 
 can we fay, we are faithful, if we are remifs or indifferent 
 under fo great a charge ? Let us confider our Mafter, 
 our work, and our reward •, and we fhall quickly per- 
 ceive, that, if we want zeal and ardour in fuch a fervice, 
 we mufl be fcandalous traitors, traitors odious in the eyes 
 of God, and defpicable in thofe of men. 
 
 Again, we cannot fay, we are either faithful or zealous, 
 if we are not diligent, if we take our eafe, and fuffer the 
 iheep of Chrifl to live and die, as ignorant of him and his 
 religion, as the Cafres or Greenlanders, What a faithlefs, 
 what an ungrateful, what a ftony-hearted wretch is he, 
 who fees God's people perifhing for lack of knowlege, and, 
 contenting himfelf with a pitiful fyflem of mere legal 
 duties, forgets the precept of St. Paul to Timothy^ I charge 
 ibee before God, and the Lord Jefus Chrift, who Jhall judge 
 the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom \ 
 "preach the word ; he inftant in feafon, and out of feafon •, 
 reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long-fuffering and do- 
 Urine. Watch then in all things \ endure affii5iions -, do 
 the work of an evangelift •, make full proof of thy miniftry. 
 Is there nothing here but a cold irreverent reading of 
 prayers, a rambling over a ftupid harangue once a week, 
 or now-and-then chriflening a child, and burying a corpfe ? 
 What, in the name of God, and of common decency, 
 muft our lay brethren think of us, if they fee us going to 
 a canon, or an acSt of parliament, and not to the word of 
 God, and the nature of our office, for the rules of our 
 duty ? 
 
 But further : Let us not pre fume to fay, we have the 
 leaft mite, either of fidelity or zeal, if we do not, in fuch 
 parts of our office, as require it, demonflrate a clear cou- 
 rage, and an undaunted refolution. Shall a poor foldier, 
 in the the fervice of a worldly prince and caufe, and for a 
 few pence by the day, fland the fire of fifty thoufand 
 men ? And fhall the foldier of Chrifl, with the two- 
 edged fword of God's word in his hand, by which the caufe 
 
 of 
 
The Dignity of the Chrtjlian Minljlry, 2p7 
 
 of God and heaven is to be maintained, with plentiful pay 
 in this world, and with a crown of endlefs glory in view, 
 fear to attack error in the midft of its numerous bigots, 
 or vice in its higheft pomp and power ? How dare he 
 be a coward, who hath an almighty arm to back him ? 
 There is not a bafer wretch than he, who, becaufe the 
 times are loofe and hbertine, becaufe it is the fafhion to 
 cant up new opinions, inftead of antient truths, is afraid to 
 infift on his Creed. His poor Hammering tongue is ever 
 employed in mincing what ought to be fwallowed whole, 
 and in dodging miferably between truth and falfhood. 
 His cloven tongue is very different from that which 
 refted on the apoftles ; it is not of fire, but of ice ; it is alfo 
 very differently employed ; for, while one half of it whif« 
 pers truth in this company, the other prattles herefy in 
 that ; and both together deliver from the pulpit (what 
 fhall I call it !) an artfully qualified truth, or a guarded 
 herefy, or an ambiguous mixture of both, with adofe of 
 poifon for the ignorant, and a cunning falvo for the or- 
 thodox hearer. Now this the fool takes for prudence, as 
 if none were to hear him but men ! Wo he to the fearful 
 hearts^ and faint hands ^ andthefinner that goeth two ways; 
 for it will be more tolerable, in the day of judgment^ for 
 that other fool, who faith in his heart, there is no God^ 
 than for him. 
 
 Of all the qualities requifite in a good clergyman, there 
 is not one that tends fo di redly to aggrandize the cha- 
 radler of his fundlion, as this of an honeft courage. If, 
 like his great Mafter, without partiality, without hypo- 
 crify, withour fear or refpeft of perfons, he fpeaks ouc 
 freely, reproves vice boldly, and fhews he is awed by no- 
 thing, but the dread of failing in his duty, his perfon will 
 foon be revered, and his miniftry appear majellic, in the 
 €yes of all who know him ; although his poverty fliould 
 render the attainment of this defireable end lomewhat more 
 tardy in him, than in one whofe temporalities fet him 
 higher in the world. 
 
 There cannot be a groffcr miftake, than the common 
 notion, that prevails too much both among the laity and 
 clergy, that a clergyman is to fpeak with freedom andre- 
 
 folution. 
 
3p8 The Tiigntty of the Chrtjlian Minijiry, 
 
 folution, only proportionable to his rank and fortune. 
 What, do you give the lye to Chrift ? Is Chriji''s king- 
 dom of this world? Or do his minifters, as fuch, de- 
 rive their authority of fpeaking from any but him ? Do 
 they derive it from Mammon, that enemy of Chrift and 
 his religion ? I will venture to fay, the dignity of the 
 miniftry will never be retrieved, till it ceafes to be put on 
 a worldly footing, and is founded again in Chrift ; for 
 ether foundation can no man lay^ than that is laid, which is 
 Jefus Chrijl. 
 
 Again, a clergyman can in nothing demonftrate a 
 greater dignity of foul, nor a more exalted fpirit, than 
 by a fettled contempt of that, which the reft of mankind 
 are h miferably enflaved to •, I mean, the riches and 
 honours of the world. But if, while he preaches up things 
 above, his affedions appear to be neverthelefs riveted to 
 things below, he gives but a forry proof of his fidelity to 
 Chrift, and his zeal for the honour of a funtflion, fo pro- 
 perly, fo purely, fpiritual. If all the ardour of his heart 
 is exhaufted in hunting after preferment, and doubling 
 on the fcent of worldly interefts, let us not blame the 
 laity for calling him a renegade and a deferter from 
 €hrift. If we believe our blefled Saviour, we muft be 
 fatisfied. No man can ferve two majiers ; and, if we be- 
 lieve our own eyes, we muft be convinced, this man is 
 ferving Mammon, and therefore cannot be ferving Chrift •, 
 who hath affured us. No man can ferve God and mammon. 
 What a light does he fethimfelfin to all men, and even 
 his holy fundion to the undiftinguiftiing, who thus, like 
 another Judas, fells his Mafter to a new crofs, for fome 
 pieces of filver. 
 
 In the next place, that fuch men only may be admitted 
 into the miniftry, as are qualified to advance its credit, all 
 pofTible care fhould be taken to examine into the piety, 
 the virtue, the learning, of thofe who ftand candidates for 
 holy orders j that none but chofen men may be ordained j 
 and that the church may no longer be a fink and a recep- 
 tacle for wretches, every way too contemptible to do ho- 
 nour to any other employment. What account fhall they 
 
7 he Dig?iity of the Chrifttan Mimfiry. 299 
 
 give at the laft day, who are more nice in the choice tH 
 their own, than of God's fervants. 
 
 And the better to anfwer the intention of this care, as 
 foon as thefe men are ordained and employed, their con- 
 duct ought to be clofcly infpedled, that the good only 
 may be advanced, and the worthlefs kept down, or dit 
 carded. By this management, the work of the miniftry 
 will be foon brought into able and honourable hands, the 
 clamours of our enemies filenced, and the credit of our 
 holy funftion reftored to its primitive dignity. But, 
 without this, I will be bold to fay, no art, no policy, no 
 power of this world, will be able to prevent our tumbling 
 headlong into a flili greater degree of contempt. 
 
 Laftly, in order to reftore the dignity of our employ* 
 ment, and, with it, the credit of Chriftianity itfelf, union 
 or uniformity is abfolutely neceifary. But here I mean 
 not uniformity in the common - acceptation, as applied 
 to ceremonies, and the conftitutions of particular 
 churches. No •, more dangerous and more pernicious 
 differences, than fuch as end in Schifm, bad as they are, 
 call for our attention. We need no longer fhew a con- 
 cern to fee Chrift's feamlefs garment divided, when our 
 eyes are fummoned to a more rueful fpeclacle, to fee his 
 very body torn in pieces, and that by fuch means — O that 
 it were pofCble to fpeak of them with any tendernefs to- 
 wards thole who ufe them, and yet at the fame time not 
 to forget, that Chrift is thereby crucified afrefti ! 
 
 There are thofe among us (may God avert the dreadful 
 evil) who begin to lay new foundations •, who, although 
 as yet a little covertly, indeed, infinuate a fettof doctrines 
 diametrically repugnant to others, that have been hitherto 
 cftcemed, by all the churches, moil neceflary and facred. 
 Hence it comes, that while one preaches up the dodrine 
 of the Trinity, another denies it ; while one infifts on the 
 atonement made in the death of Chrift for the fins of all 
 men, another calls us off, and bids us trull in our own 
 righteoufnefs for our eternal falvation ; while one bids us 
 pray for, and rely on, the affiftance of God's grace, in 
 order to faith and reformation, another bids us lean en- 
 tirely to Our own ilrength for both j while one frightens 
 
 us 
 
300 The Dignify of the Chrijiian Miniflry, 
 
 us with the menaces of eternal torments for our unrepented 
 fins, another fooths us with aflurances, that our punilh- 
 ment fliall be only temporary. 
 
 What (hall our unhappy hearers do in this dilemma ? 
 Shall they follow him who leads to the fouth ? Or him 
 who beckons them to the north ? Or Ihall their faith 
 waver in fufpence, till obftinacy becomes pliant, and con- 
 ceit blufhes for its own ignorance -, or till they themfelves 
 become better cafuifts than their teachers ? 
 
 But the abettors of new opinions will fay, what would 
 you have us do ? Is it polfible for all men to think one 
 way ? We muft follow our own rcafon, not yours •, and 
 if fuperior reafon leads us to principles contrary to yours, 
 or not univerfally believed in former times, you have no 
 right to condemn us for publifhing fuch principles, as 
 truths, fince you carry the importance of thofe principles, 
 whether embraced, or rejected, farther than we do. 
 
 Why^ herein nowii a mofi marvelous thing! that we fhould 
 difagree about fuch matters, as of all things ought to be 
 moft plain, and which the Spirit of God judged he had 
 made fufficiently plain ; or he would never, by St. Pauly 
 have told us, that there is hut one faith ; commanding us to 
 fiandfafiinthat faith^ to Jiand fafi in one fpirit, with one 
 mindjiriving together for the faith of the go/pel ; he would 
 never fo pathetically have befought us, by the name of our 
 Lord J ejus Chrijt, that we jhould allfpea'k the fame things 
 that there fhould be no divifions among us •, but that we 
 fhould be perfe^ly joined together in the fame mind^ and in 
 the fame judgment. Shall a Chriftian, after hearing thefe 
 words of God, ftill infift, that there is nothing in which 
 all men can judge alike ^ Or, at leaft, that points, effen- 
 tially related to the very objeft of our worlhip, to the very 
 foundation of our hopes, are fo obfcurely fet forth in holy 
 Scripture, as to leave room for fenfible and honeft men to 
 differ fo widely about them } 
 
 If it is fundamentally neceffary to think rightly on thefe 
 points, they muft be clearly revealed, or revelation muft 
 have fomewhat in it very foolifh and defeftive. If they 
 are not neceffary, if they are not fundamental, then, in 
 whatibever eftabiifliment the one fide or the other (hall 
 
 happen 
 
The T>ignity of the Chrifiian Minijiry. 301 
 
 happen to be embraced, it is better for thofe, who look on 
 them as unncceflary, and who cannot, merely by their 
 private judgment in expounding Scripture, digefl: the 
 determinations of that eftablifhment, either honeftly to 
 (lay out of it, or modeltly to diftruft their own under- 
 llandings, and to acquiefce in that of the church, than 
 to deftroy its peace by vending contrary opinions ; for 
 peace is as confefTedly necelTary, and charity as confefTedly 
 fundamental, as the commands of God can make them. 
 
 If, on this occafion, thefe men declare, they have no 
 rancour nor fpleen againft thofe with whom they differ ; 
 and that they cannot fee, why Chriftians fhould hate one 
 another, merely bccaufe they are unable to purfue one 
 track of thinking in matters fo myflerious and fpeculative, 
 as they are pleafed to call them ; they will in vain attempt 
 to excufe themfclves by fuch a declaration, while they 
 contend with as much heat, perhaps, I might fay, with 
 at leafl as much bitternefs, as their opponents, for their 
 own favourite opinions. On a careful examination of their 
 own hearts, and an impartial review of their paft conduft, 
 it is to be feared, they will find . them far enough from 
 that humility and moderation they cry out for in their ad- 
 verfaries. But, be it as it will with themfelves, they can- 
 not be fo ignorant of human nature, as not to know, that 
 religious difputcs, although concerning matters never fo 
 trifling in themfelves, have ever been, and, till men be- 
 come indifferent to all religion, will ever be, attended 
 with uncharitable animofities. Since, therefore, (if we 
 believe themfelves) they prefer benevolence and charity to 
 every thing elfe, they ought not furely to throw a need- 
 lefs bone of contention among their brethren, who may 
 happen not to be blefled with fo much temper as they are, 
 nor with fo much fenfe as to fee, that opinions, for the 
 fake of which men of fo great learning think fit to difturb 
 the repofe of their own church, are, after all, far from 
 being effentials in the judgment of thofe very men. 
 
 But even granting, that the Scriptures, in prefcribing 
 the unanimity juft now contended for, had therein re- 
 quired of us a thing unrealonable or impoffible ; or, that 
 the unanimity prefcribed relates to other points, than thofe 
 
 about 
 
^02 The Dignity of the Chrift'ian Mln'ijlry, 
 
 about which we are divided ; yet this will be no excufe for 
 men, who, when they were ordained, and when they 
 were inftituted, and again when they were indu6ted into 
 their livings, did moft folemnly fubfcribe, and declare 
 their unfeigned affent and confent, to certain principles of 
 great importance ; and alfo folemnly promife to teach 
 thofe principles, and no other -, which principles they now, 
 rteverthelefs, without either renouncing their orders, or 
 refigning their livings, do to the uttermoft of their power 
 oppofe. Nay, what is worfe than all this, after having 
 thus oppofed the principles they fo folemnly engaged to 
 defend, thefe men, we fee, are ready, as often as tempted 
 by a new benefice, again folemnly to declare, in the face 
 of God, and the congregation, for the very fame prin- 
 ciples-, yet, (aftonifhing !) as foon as they are in, {zl 
 themfelves to run them down again without a fingle blufli ! 
 and, inftead of thefe, for which the word of God himfeif is 
 voucher, to cant up the feeble, the affedied philofophy of 
 others, or new-fangled nonfenfe of their own. Woe unto 
 us if we preach not the gofpel ; or rather, double woe unto 
 us, if we preach any thing elfe for gofpel ; if we turn 
 moralifts, inftead of apoftles, and conceitedly preach up 
 ourfelves, or Cicero, or Seneca^ or (pardon me for name- 
 ing them with thefe illuftrious heathens) if we preach up 
 Shaftefhury, or Hutchefon, or Chubb, in the place of Chrift 
 and Scripture ; whereas we ought to know nothing among 
 the brethren, but Chrifl, and him crucified. 
 
 And are thefe the men, thus, through love of the 
 world, declaring for one thing, and, through conceit and 
 felf-fufficiency, infifting on quite the contrary, who are 
 ever telling us, that our articles of faith are of little con- 
 fequence ? and that good works, fincerity, and moral 
 righteoufnefs, give the only title to falvation ? Is it thu3 
 they exemplify, to a criticifing world, their own ap- 
 plauded morality ? Is theirs the very fincerity, that is to 
 Hand for all religion and virtue, and which renders them 
 fo highly meritorious, as to need no atonement, no im- 
 puted righteoufnefs ? O thou God of truth! who cannot 
 look on iniquity, is this the righteoufnefs that will juftify 
 in thy fight ? O thou guilelefs Lamb of our falvation-! 
 
 is 
 
The "Dignity of the Chrifitan Minijlry. 303 
 
 is this the infantine fimplicity, that is to recommend us to 
 thy embraces, and make us the children of God ? Would 
 to God I could have done juftice to my fubjefb, without 
 touching on a topic, that wounds the very vitals of Chrifti- 
 anity, that throws infamy on the miniftry, that pierces 
 every honeft Chriftian to the foul, as often as he thinks of 
 it, with a mixture of fhame, terror, and indignation ! 
 
 But bear with my infirmity, my dear brethren, and 
 give me leave to fhut up this already too tedious Difcourfe, 
 with two reflexions, which, I humbly apprehend, may be 
 of fingular ufe to us of the miniftry, if ferioufly laid to 
 heart. 
 
 Firft : Let us awfully confider whom it is we have un- 
 dertaken to ferve, and wherein we propofe to ferve him ; 
 how arduous our duty ; how glorious the reward to be 
 hoped for, if we difcharge it as our Mafter requires ; and 
 how dreadful the punifhment to be feared, if we materially 
 fail therein. If the befl: clergyman in the world lays this 
 home to his heart, as feelingly as the dignity of the fub- 
 jecft demands, it will (hake his foul within him. His mo- 
 defl:y will perhaps be more ready to fuggeft the punifh- 
 ment to his fears, than his vanity the reward to his hopes. 
 What then muft we fuppofe the unworthy clergyman 
 ought to feel, could he fum up thought enough for the 
 alarming reflexion. God be merciful to me ! I feel it too 
 fenfibly myfelf, to be able to dwell on it any longer. 
 
 What I have faid concerning the dignity of our em- 
 ployment, was chiefly in order to give us an high idea of 
 that, and an humble one of ourfelves, and our qualifica- 
 tions, when compared to a poll of fuch tranfcendent 
 truft and importance. 
 
 The meanefl artificer (tands as high as he can on the 
 honour of his particular calling ; and, if he hath any fenfe, 
 he knows the befl, or rather, the only way to procure it 
 honour, is to fill it with fkill and integrity. And fhall 
 not a clergyman, whofe calling is in all refpedls fo facred, 
 give proofs of a like fenfible zeal for its credit, and take 
 the fame method to honour it himfelf, and to render it re- 
 fpedable in the eftimation of others ? But when the 
 ignorant, theflothful, or die vicious, takes this office on 
 
 him. 
 
3C4« 1'be Dignity of the Chriftlan Mintjlry. 
 
 him, does he not defpife it himfelf, and teach others to 
 do the fame, inafmuch as he thinks a wretch hke him is 
 good enough for it ? Does he not treat it with more con- 
 tempt than the layman, who calls it prieft-craft ; fince, 
 in the very literal fenfe of the word, he adually makes a 
 craft of it, and a moft iniquitous craft too ; for, fo he can 
 devour the temporal good things of his flock, he cares 
 not whether they tafle of fpiritual good things from him, 
 or not. 
 
 And, after all, does he ftupidly look for refpe6l on ac- 
 count of a profefTion, to which he is a fcandal ? It ought 
 to be laid down as a maxim, applicable to all employ- 
 ments, but more efpecially to that of a clergyman, that 
 the poll Ihould impart only fo much reputation to the 
 man, as he is qualified to refledb on it. Indeed this is 
 pradlically received by all the wifer part of the world. 
 We do not honour an officer, although he ftruts in fcarlet, 
 and wears a fword, if we know him to be a coward ; or, 
 if we do, it mud be owned, that, when fuch are honoured, 
 the commiflion is vilified ; for it is fuppofed, the bafe and 
 timorous are fit enough to bear it. In like manner, we 
 muft either defpife the office of a clergyman, as too many 
 do, for the unworthinefs of him who fills it ; or we mutl 
 look with more contempt on him for prefuming to under- 
 take fo facred a charge, than we ffiould have done, had 
 "we feen him in the light of a difhoneft tradefman, or an 
 unlkilful ploughman. 
 
 The other reflexion is, that we do not want encourage- 
 ment, even from men, to hope for a retrieval of our ho- 
 nour, if we are not altogether wanting to ourfelveS. 
 Things are at fuch a pafs (we fliould be fl:ung to the heart 
 with the reproachful truth) that a clergyman who does but 
 the third part of his duty, and is but half as exemplary as 
 he ought to be (fo glad are our people to fee us aim at 
 diligence) is fure to be applauded, and almoft: compared 
 to the primitive apofl:les and fathers. While he hath but 
 too much reafon to fear the vengeance of God for the far 
 greater part of his duty, which he neglcdts, he hears him- 
 Slf (O fhameful honour 1) exalted to the fl:ars by men, for 
 the little he performs. 
 
 This 
 
^he Titgniiy of the Chriftian Minijlry. 50^ 
 
 This, notwithflanding, I fliall readily own, there arethofe, 
 who, from various motives, too invidious, and too tedious 
 to be detailed, will be fure to throw on us all the contempt 
 and odium they polTibly can, let our carriage be never fo 
 prudent, never fo apoftolical -, nay, who will be very forry 
 to fee us behave ourfelves as we ought to do ; becaufe 
 that will deprive them of the only topic they know how 
 to be witty on, of their ftrongeft argument againft our re- 
 ligion ; and, what muft be itill more vexatious, will re- 
 vive the influence of that religion, which they hate, and 
 which they had hopes of banifhing out of the world. 
 
 Thefe men, however, cannot yet (God be praifed) boaft 
 a majority among the people •, fo that a proper conduct in 
 ns, joined to the candour of a far greater number, will 
 foon ftifle the then ill-grounded infmuations, and mani- 
 feftly malicious railleries, of fuch men. 
 
 To conclude: It is in vain to hope for a retrieval ©four 
 dignity, or a revival of Chriftian piety, which mufl: always 
 go together, without one and all, or generally, at Icaft, 
 betaking ourfelves to the meafures recommended. God 
 will affill and blefs no other •, and if we put our truft in 
 mere prudential or political fchemes, thofe he will blall 
 and curfe. 
 
 Let us, therefore, in the name of our Almighty Mailer, 
 do our utmoft, honeftly to approve ourfelves in all things 
 lis the minijlers of God ; and then, and only then, may we 
 reafonably hope our people will, with affedionand efteem, 
 think of us, as they ought to think of the minijlers of 
 Christy and the Jiewards of the myfleries of God. 
 
 And now to God the Father, God the Son, and Gcd 
 the Holy Ghoft, unto him that is able to do exceeding 
 abundantly above all that we ajk or think, according to the 
 -power that worketh in us, unto him be glory in the church 
 by Chriji JefuSy throughout all ages, world ivithout end. 
 Amen. 
 
 V o L. n, ^ D I S- 
 
[3°M 
 
 DISCOURSE XVIIL 
 
 The religious Duty of Parents and Matters 
 enforced. 
 
 Joshua, xxiv. 15. 
 
 As for me and my houfe^ we 'will few e the Lord. 
 
 T Hough the office, in which the mafler of a family 
 is placed, does not ufually give him authority over 
 many perfons, yet it is a poll of great importance and 
 truft. The head of this litde fociety has a more abfolute 
 power, and exercifes it more perfonally and immediately 
 upon his fubjefts, than that of any other. The number 
 of chofe, over whom he is fet, is, by the nature of things, 
 generally determined to a few ; becaufe it would be im- 
 poffiblefor one man to make fuch provifion, to give fuch 
 inftru(5lions, and employ fuch a degree of care over many, 
 as the ends and purpofes of a family require. The mafter 
 of a family is not only to provide the neceffaries and con- 
 venicncies of life for his children and fervants ; but on his 
 inftructions, his example, and his care, depend, in a great 
 meafure, their virtue, and honour, and happinefs here, 
 and their eternal falvation hereafter. 
 
 The power of the magiftrate operates upon private fa- 
 milies at a diftance, and only on their outward aftions. 
 I'he publick precepts and exhortations ol the pallor are 
 
 general J 
 
Parents a fid Majiers enforced. ^bjr 
 
 general, and his private ones can be applied to particuiaf 
 perfons only at certain times ; and then too under the dil"- 
 advantage of an imperfedt knowlege, as to their tempers 
 and wants. But the mafter of a family, living in one 
 houfe with thofe under him, and being always among 
 them, cannot but know what inftrutflions their ignorance, 
 what reilraints their vices, and what management their 
 difpofitions, require. Nor does he want a power, pro- 
 portionable to his knowlege, to fupport and enforce the 
 proper methods of nature and government. His childreri 
 and fervants have, under God, fcarce any dependence, 
 but on him. He can encourage, or correft \ can difpenfa 
 pleafure or pain among them, as he plcafes. This can- 
 not but give him all that weight and authority, which are 
 neceflary to the great ends of his office. 
 
 In the next place, his influence commences at that 
 very time, when the fubje6ls, on which it is to work, are 
 the beft difpofed to be wrought on, and to receive im- 
 preiTions. He has tender and flexible materials under his 
 hands, and fuch as are then capable of any forms he is 
 pleafed to give them. They have, it is true, a certain 
 bias to evil \ but this calls upon him for the greater vi- 
 gilance and induftry, in prepoffefllng them with the prin- 
 ciples of virtue. If they, through his neglcft or mii^ 
 management, fhould mifs the opportunity of being duly 
 inftrufted in the principles of religion, and trained up to 
 an habitual courfe of piety and virtue, they come forth 
 into the world only qualified to create mifchief and dif- 
 turbance to their country, and to bring inflimy and diftrefs 
 on themfelves ; and, at laft, go out into another life with 
 a load of fin about them, fufficient to fink them in mi- 
 fery, as lafl:ing as their immortal fouls. If the mind be 
 not feafonably plied v/ith good principles, and fteadily 
 difciplined to virtue, in time, it will find out v/icked prin- 
 ciples, and bad habits, for itfelf. To root out thefe, 
 after they have fpread, and ftruck deep into the foil, will 
 be almoft impoffible in manhood, or old-age. I believe 
 there can be few inftances given of ill livers, who, having 
 been much neglefted in their youth, were ever reclaimed 
 afterwards. 
 
 X 2 It 
 
2o8 ^he religious Duty of 
 
 If the influence, which the mafter has in a family, be 
 not applied to the good ends and purpofes for which it 
 was intended, it cannot but promote the contrary ends. 
 The authority, that fets him above his children and fer- 
 vants, makes him a pattern to them, and his aftions a 
 rule for theirs. If he does not feem to fear God, or to 
 worfbip him with devotion, neither will they ; and, when 
 they come to have houfes and families of their own, they 
 will be too apt to think, they have done very well, if 
 they do as he did. So ignorance, and negledl of God's 
 worfhip, beginning at him, will fpread from family to 
 family, will go down from generation to generation, 
 making infidels, and damning fouls, for aught he knows, 
 to the end of the world. Now can a man anfwer it to 
 his own confcience, his pofterity, or his God, that he has 
 perverted the power given him by Divine Providence and 
 Nature, for the great purpofes of inftrufbing his charge, 
 and training them up to devotion ; and employed the 
 whole force of it, in propagating the infeftion of his own 
 evil example among his miferable pofterity, and that of 
 his unhappy fervants ? 
 
 It is not eafy to conceive, how mailers of families can 
 fo generally get over thefe refleftions ; or how they ex- 
 ped; to account for the negled of a duty on which fuch 
 an infinite deal depends. Surely, did they believe in, 
 and fear God, or exped a futgre reckoning ; had they 
 either humanity or confcience, they could not give up 
 thofe, who rife out of their own bowels, or who maintain 
 them with their labour, whom God has made, and Chriil 
 died for, to almofl a certainty of being for ever unhappy. 
 If fuch impious cruelty and contempt be not downright 
 acheifm, it mull probably be very near of kin to it. 
 This, however, is certain, that if one, who is capable of 
 this crime, hath any religion at all, it mud be in fo icanty 
 a meafure, as to be of little or no ufe to himfelfi for, had 
 he enough to fave his own foul, it could not pofTibly be 
 confined to his own breaft, when duty and humanity join 
 to call it forth with a voice as loud, as God and Narure 
 can make it. How could charity or piety be deaf to fuch 
 a voice ? 
 
 The 
 
Varents and Mcijlen ejiforced. 3 op 
 
 The footfteps of God, and the figns of religion, are to 
 be found in few families. How rarely do we fee the 
 mafter of a family bring his houfhold together to wor- 
 ship and call upon God ? What is this owing to ? Does 
 he think he and his can do well or profper, without God's 
 affiftance ? Or does he imagine, that God will favour and 
 protecfl a family, that fhews no marks of love, or fear, or 
 dependence on him ? But if he fhould fay, that he, and 
 the feveral members of his family, pray in fecret, and 
 that fuch prayers are fufRcient ; he in vain endeavours to 
 impofe an excufe on others, which cannot but be too grofs 
 to pafs on himfelf. It is impoflible for him to know, 
 whether his children and fervants do all of them worfl:iip 
 God in fecret, as often, and as properly, as they ought to 
 do ; whereas did he gather them, once or twice every 
 day, to family prayers, he could form fome judgment of 
 their piety. But fuppofing it true, that they are all con- 
 ftant in their fecret devotions, is that fufficient .'' Is there 
 no neceflity for public worfhip .? Is not a congregation, 
 or a family, as much bound to worfnip God, as a fingle 
 perfon ? It is certain, that all the works of God depend 
 on him ; and therefore owe him fuch a fervice, as their 
 feveral natures enable them to render. As God is the 
 founder and fupporter of all focieties, fo they are all 
 obhged, as well as fingle perfons, to acknowlege their 
 dependence on him, and to worfhip him -as focieties. If 
 there be any thing in prayers, or indeed in religion, the 
 worlhip of God mud be as necelTary to communities, as 
 to individuals. Whatever is capable of offending God, 
 ought to confefs, and afk pardon, if it does. Whatever 
 wants his affiftance ought to call to him for it. .What- 
 ever receives favours from him, and taftes of his good- 
 nefs, ought to return him its thanks. But every focicty 
 does fin againfl him, does depend on him, does receive 
 favours, and thofe infinite ones, from him •, every fociety 
 ought therefore, as fuch, to worfhip him with repentance, 
 humihty, and gratitude. 
 
 If this were duly confidered by the (late, Religion, and 
 the public worfhip of God, would become the chief care 
 of the magiftrate. And, were it confidered by the mailer 
 
 X 3 of 
 
^ lo The religious Duty of 
 
 fef a family, he could not withdraw himfelf, and all the 
 concerns of his houfhold, from their only dependence, 
 by a negledl of thofe fervices and fupplications, on which 
 that dependence is founded, and without which it cannot 
 be fupported. He that knows himfelf to be dependent 
 on a prince for his bread, and the maintenance of his fa- 
 mily, does not think it fufficicnt to obey the commands 
 of that prince, and to declare for his interefl ; no, he pays 
 him all the court he can. If he has happened to offend 
 him, he afks pardon in the humbleft manner. If he 
 {lands in need of his affiflance, he addreffes him in the 
 mofl moving words •, and, upon the receipt of every new 
 favour, is conflant in his thanks, and loud in the praifes 
 of his patron. Did the fame man think himfelf, and 
 thofe under him, dependent on Almighty God, for not 
 only their worldly lupport, but for every thing eife, 
 furely he could not forbear any afts of duty or worfhip, 
 which he thought v,^ouId be agreeable, or would ftrength- 
 en his interefl with God. Nay, one might expect, that 
 he fnould perfevere in fuch afts, even if he were perfe-^ 
 cuted for them by the civil power, and that he fhould 
 openly acknowlegc his dependence upon, and truft in an 
 higher power, by the moll avowed and public worfliip of 
 him, at the peril of his life. It is no great matter to 
 give up the whole world, and life itkjf, rather than 
 negleifl or difhonour a perfon, who has not only given us 
 life, and all that we enjoy, but died for us, and can take 
 ^11 from us again. 
 
 What then (ball we think of him who acknowleges, 
 that he holds his life, his health, his fubflance, his all in 
 this world, and his title to eternal glory in the next,' 
 from God •, that owns, he is laid under no hindrances, 
 nor even difcouragements to the performance of this duty 
 by the civil power, and yet will not perform it ? How 
 different is his praftice from that of the prophet Daniel^ 
 from that of all the glorious martyrs for Chnftianity, nay 
 from his own principles and profeffions ? To omit this 
 duty Lipon principle, is to be an atheift. To omit it 
 ggair^ft principle, is in orie, a degree of madnefs and 
 
 ^afcRef^ 
 
parents and Mqflcrs eriforccd. 311 
 
 bafenefs, the mod delperate and infamous that can be 
 imagined. 
 
 He who is truly, and in good earneft, a Chriftian, con- 
 fiders himfelf, and all that relates to him, or concerns him, 
 as goyerned and direfted by the immediate providence ot' 
 God, which over-rules and difpofes all things. This (as 
 in prudence it ought) makes him conflant and fervent in 
 his lecret devotions, as the only means (next to a good 
 life) to procure the divine favour for himfelf. Ihis 
 makes him devout in the public fervices of the congre- 
 gation, for public blefllngs to his country. This makes 
 him careful in the performance of family worfhip, that 
 the only difpenfer of all events may deal gracioufly by his 
 family. He fees plainly, that God has fo framed the na- 
 ture of man, that neither the great, nor the lefTer focieties, 
 neither kingdoms, nor families, can be happy, nor in- 
 deed at all fubfift without religion ; by this neceflary de^ 
 pendence on him, and continual infercourfe between him 
 and us, preferving a perpetual memory of h"mfelf among 
 us. Convinced and fortified v/ith this obfervation, the 
 truly Chriftian mafter of a family takes care that religion 
 be well known, and God conftantly worlnipcd in h"s 
 houfe. That his children may be fenfible of his authority 
 over them, and pay him the obedience due to a parent^ 
 he backs his authority with that of God, the univerfal Pa- 
 rent. That his fervants may be dutiful, induftrious, and 
 honeft, he teaches them to fear the great Mafter, the 
 Lord of Lords, and Governor of the world, irom whom 
 all power and authority, and his in particular, is derived. 
 That every member of his little fociety may acquit him- 
 felf properly in his flation, and contribute to the good of 
 the whole, he gives him a principle to do it on, and a 
 motive llrong enough to induce him -, that is, he teaches 
 him the doctrines, the dudes, and motives of religion. 
 And, that his inftruilions may not be lodged only in thj 
 memory of his dependents, and lie there inadive, like 
 other fpeculative points, he gives them continual exercife ; 
 is perpetually employing and furnilhing them with oc- 
 cafions ot practice. To this his authority, which is ab- 
 foiute, gnd his example, in which the fear of God and 
 
 X 4 devotion 
 
^ 1 2 The religious Duty of 
 
 kvotion do at all times (o confpicuoufly appear, contri- 
 bute not a little. But that which, of all other methods, 
 has the greateft fhare in preferving his religious inftru- 
 ftions alive, and calling them into aftion, is, that by the 
 daily fervice, to which he afiembies his family, he feeds 
 the fenfe of religion among them, and keeps God and 
 their duty ever ftrongly prefent to their minds. 
 
 In a family where religion is known, and God devoutly 
 worfhiped, there is a confcientious tie on every one to 
 difcharge the duties that belong to his ftation ; a tie 
 ftrengthened by eternal rewards and punifliments, and 
 laid on the very foul. The parent and mafter confider 
 themfelves as accountable for the principles, and, in a 
 great meafure for the falvation, of their children and fer- 
 vants. The children and fervants confider, that they are 
 to honour their parents as the reprefentativcs of God ', and 
 not to render only an eye-fervice, but fo to obey and 
 fervc, as thofe, who, in every the moft fecret thought and 
 action, lie open to the eyes of God. This produces a 
 tnutual difcharge of duty on both fides, and that gives 
 peace, order, and happinefs, to the whole family. 
 
 As nothing but religion can work thefe happy effeds, 
 fo we fee, when that is wanting, there is nothing but 
 quarrels, and confufion, and mifery, to be obferved. The 
 rnouths of parents are filled with complaints concerning 
 the undutifulnefs of their children, and thofe complaints 
 attended with extreme wrath and bitternefs of foul. But, 
 <1id they candidly confider from what caufes the ill con- 
 duft of their children proceeds, they would, for the moft 
 part, find reafon to turn their anger upon themfelves, and 
 change their complaints to remorfc. The difobedience 
 and impiety of their children are owing to want of re- 
 ligion, and that to their parents, who took little or no 
 care to inftruft them ; and fet them an irreligious ex- 
 ample befides. They have finned againft the fouls of 
 their children, and thofe children are made, by Divine 
 Providence, and a confequence almoft neceflary to the 
 nature of things, the inftruments of vengeance to chaftife 
 their horrid crime. Natural affedion, and mere refped 
 for parental ^^uthoritv, ^re not fufiicient, without religion, 
 •" ' \<i 
 
Parents and Ma/lefS enforced 313 
 
 to preferve children in their duty. Let no parent truft to 
 them alone ; for, if he does, there is ten thoufand to one, 
 he is miferably difappointed. 
 
 We every day hear mafter$ make the like complaints 
 of their fervants. Their fervants, they tell us, are the 
 plague of their lives. They do not indeed trouble us 
 with any complaints about their lewdnefs, their blaf- 
 phemies, their contempt of God's fervice, and of the 
 facrameht; for thofe are only crimes committed againfi: 
 God ; and they are not concerned to prevent them. But 
 we hear much of their idlenefs, their lying, their pilfering, 
 and the like. Thefe are really the moft unjuft and foolifh 
 complaints in the world, and fuch mailers are well ferved. 
 They expedt obedience to their commands, without ex- 
 afting any to thofe of God ; that is, they hope for the 
 effe^l without the caufe, and expect that their fervants 
 fhould be dutiful, though irreligious, and ungodly. Their 
 cruelty, to the very fouls of their poor dependents, is juftly 
 puniflied by the dilhoncfly and lloth of thofe very depend- 
 ents. And God too, moft righteoufly chaftifes their 
 negledl of his affiftance, and contempt for his honour, by 
 the very confequences of that contempt ; for fo it is, and 
 fo, in the nature of things, it muft be, that, unlefs mafters 
 teach their fervants the principles of religion, and breed 
 them up in the fervice and fear of God, thofe fervants 
 will, though unwittingly, take a fpeedy revenge ; they 
 will teaze, and plague, and cheat thofe, who have de- 
 frauded their fouls of the only principles that could poffefs 
 them with any fenfe of duty, or honefty. To complain 
 of this is weak and unreafonable in their mafters to the laft 
 degree. They might as well hope for the labour of their 
 fervants, without allowing them their food, as for their 
 honefty and duty, without giving them the principles of 
 either. 
 
 Among the many perverfions of common fenfe, ar^d 
 dlftortions of human nature, that infidelity has intro- 
 duced in thefe latter ages, none feems more llirprifing, 
 than that unaccountable averfion to family prayers, which 
 prevails fo unhappily among us. Can there be any thing 
 piore natural^ than that creatyres ftiould worftiip their 
 
 Creator t 
 
514 The religiomT>itty of 
 
 Creator ; that rational fouls fliould make application to 
 their Redeemer ; or that the infirmities of nature fliould 
 fly to the Spirit of God for comfort and fuccour ? And, 
 as prayer in general is moft agreeable to nature, fo the fel- 
 lowfliip of thofe, who are joined to us by the neareft and 
 tendered ties, cannot but add to the natural pleafure that 
 attends it. A good man can never think himfelf in a 
 more honourable or happy fituation, than while he is on 
 his knees in the midft ot his family, uttering the devotions 
 of himfclf, his dear wife and children, and his dutiful do- 
 meftics. He has before him, at that delightful juncture, 
 all the occafions of happinefs, that God has given him ; 
 and is then employed in adoring the Giver, and blefling 
 his benefaftor. There is a tranfport of joy in this mofb 
 tender a£l of worfhip, which none but a worthy and a 
 great foul can feel ; and which the libertine, in his keeneft 
 moment of fenfual pleafure, has reafon to envy. What 
 is it then that raifes fuch a coldnefs to this, above all other 
 kinds of worfhip ? Surely it muft be a want of religion 
 and goodnefs, a want of love and reverence for God. He 
 that neglefts this duty, and is unacquainted with the plea- 
 fure that is to be found in the performance of ir, may 
 profefs his faith as loudly as he pleafes, and take it very 
 ill to be called an unbeliever, yet how does his faith ap- 
 pear } Wh^t fruits, what proof can he fhew of it, when 
 it cannot produce an aftion like this, in which it is af- 
 fifted with fuch an high and exquifite enjoyment } But he 
 lays, it is not he only, but many other good Chriftians, 
 that omit this duty -, and that, did he perform it, it 
 would bring on him the cenfure of fingularity and affcdled 
 piety. How does he know that others, who omit this 
 duty, are good Chriftians ? In this, at lead, they fhew 
 themfelves to be no Chriftians at all. But, fuppofing 
 them good men in other refpeds, why does he imitate 
 that in which they fo miferably fail ? Does he approve of 
 nothing but their faults ? But where is the neceffity of 
 example for that which we know to be our duty ? Why, 
 to avoid fingularity. Surely now to be alone in doing 
 good is not a fingularity •, or, if it be, it is fuch a noble 
 fingularity, as is to be chofen btfore erring with the whole 
 
 world. 
 
Pare?its and Mafter^ enforced. 31^ 
 
 world.' It is impertinent to dwell long on fo pitiful an ex- 
 cufe. No man, that had a real fenfe of religion, could be 
 kept, by fuch a cobweb as this, from the flighteft and lead 
 agreeable duty of it. A true Chriftian, though he had 
 neither precedent, nor fecond, among all the profeffors of 
 Chriftianity, would neverthelefs declare like JoJJma^ -Ihat 
 he and his houfe Jhould ferve the Lord. He would not 
 idly and bafely wait for examples, when love, gratitude, 
 and fuch an unfpeakable pleafure, drew him forward ; but 
 would purfue the agreeable duty, in which fuch a blefied 
 enjoyment of God is to be tailed, did the furnace, feven 
 times heated, open its fiery mouth in the way. 
 
 The negleft of prayer is owing, in fome, to a want of 
 rehgion. Thefe people aft coniiftently with their prin- 
 ciple, though that principle is an error. But in thofe, 
 who really do believe in God, it is a violence done to 
 their own reafon, and a downright contempt of his pro- 
 vidence. They are led into this great folly and fin by 
 want of confideration. They have principles, but they 
 have not thought and prudence enough to apply them ; 
 fo they are of no other ufe, than to bear v/itnefs againll 
 their praftice. They have a religion to talk about, or 
 to difpute for. It is in vain to look for it in their clofets, 
 in their familes, in church, or in their hearts : It is only 
 to be found in their memories, where it was lodged when 
 they were children, with other difagreeable lefTons. Thefe 
 people, of all others, are the hardeft to be reafoned into 
 the pradlice of religion, becaufe they have got an habit of 
 ading againft principle, and making themfelves ealy, by 
 a kind of compofition between religion on the one fide, 
 and their interefts and pleafures on the other. 
 
 But there are other believers, who lay no great ftrefs on 
 prayer, being perfuaded, that God leaves the world to 
 fecond caufes ; and that therefore a knowlege of thofe 
 caufes, and a dextrous management of them, is the grand 
 fecret of prudence, and the only fcheme by which a man 
 may contribute to his own happinefs. This was the opi 
 nion of the Epicureans^ who denied a Providence, and 
 faidj if there were fuch a being as God, that he left na- 
 ^ire to itfelf, and took his pleafures above the clouds, 
 
 withou; 
 
3 T 6 ^he religioiis T>uty of 
 
 without ever looking through them, to fee what is -doing 
 here below. This notion is altogether inconfiftent with 
 reafon, and deftrudlive of religion. Firft, it is incon- 
 fiftent with reafon ; becaufe the unavoidable fallibility and 
 infirmity of all created beings require the continual care 
 and fupport of him that made them ; and, as he is ever 
 prefent to all his works, his infinite goodnefs muft be fup- 
 pofed to intereft him in the neceflary fupport and repair 
 of nature. We cannot conceive an employment more 
 agreeable to the Divine Being, than that of providing for 
 the happinefs of his creatures ; and this he feems to have 
 referved for himfetf and his angels, by creating the world 
 in fuch a manner, as to require his providential care of it. 
 5^ome deficiencies are immediately fupplied, and fome evils 
 foon redreffed. Others are referved for certain periods, 
 either ftated, or occafional. And though fecond caufes 
 are employed for thefc purpofes, yet are thofe caufes 
 moved by the Firft Caufe, and ufed only as the inftru- 
 ments of his will, to carry fuch fuccours, and make fuch 
 <:hanges, as the good order of things may require. 
 
 Again, the notion juft now mentioned is deftruftive of 
 all rehgion, and therefore altogether improper for the 
 mouth of any, but an Epicurean^ as that fe6t of philo- 
 fophers very well knew. God is the only author and 
 teacher of religion i and fince he has not made the know- 
 lege of his will a part of our nature, we muft either be 
 ignorant of it, or elfe be inftruded by him. But had 
 God left us to ourfelves, and to other fecond caufes, his 
 will could not have been revealed, nor our redemption 
 wrought. 
 
 §ince then God is not only the judge of all the earthy 
 hut the governor among the nations ; fince he that made the 
 eye mufi fee, and he that made the ear muft hear, why 
 fhould we not bring our wants before him ? Since he is 
 merciful he muft pity our diftreffes. Since he is infinitely 
 wife and powerful he can eafily find means to relieve them. 
 For this reafon fhall prayer be made ever unto him, and 
 daily fhall he he praifed. For this reafon the man, who 
 is taught in Chrift, and is wife unto falvation, implores 
 his afliftance in every thin^. He recommends his la- 
 bours 
 
Parents and Mcijlers enforced. 5 17 
 
 hours by day, and his reft by night, to the prote(5l:Ion of 
 God j and never thinks either himlelf, or his family, fafe, 
 till, by earneft prayers, he has put them under the guard- 
 ianship of Providence. He is fenfible, that the power of 
 prayer is as the power of God ; becaufe it prevails with 
 God, and engages his power in our behalf. This his 
 daily experience teaches him, and the word of God fup- 
 ports his experien:e. When he fees the wrath of God, 
 that was ready to fall upon the idolatrous Ifraelites^ turned 
 away by the prayer of Mofes ; when he fees the prayer of 
 Jojhua arrefting the fun, and flopping the courfe of na- 
 ture ; when he fees the prayer of Elijha prevail over 
 death, and reftore to life the fon of the Shunamite ; when 
 he fees the prophetical declaration of God reverfed, and 
 the life of Hezekiah prolonged by prayer ; when he fees 
 Daniel come alive out of the lion's den, after having 
 trufted to prayer, in defiance of the greateft power on 
 earth ; he cannot entertain the leaft doubt concerning the 
 force of prayer. His confidence is flill increafed by the 
 parable of the importunate woman, and the unjuft judge, 
 by the promifes, the merits, and intercefiions of Chrift. 
 The command, to pray always, adds duty to his hopes, 
 and makes his prayer an ad of obedience, as well as a 
 means of prefervation. That his family may learn to 
 truft in God, and to call upon him -, that their prayers 
 may have the greater force ; that God may be prefent 
 among them, and his fatherly providence watch over 
 them ; he gathers them together, and, uniting all their 
 devotions in one requeft, and one voice, gives them all 
 the weight and power that prayer can have. He feels 
 the good elFefts of his piety, in the agreeable reflexions he 
 makes on the difcharge of his duty, in the peace and fe- 
 curity with which he fortifies himfelf and his aff^airs, in the 
 daily bleflings which defcend upon his family, in return for 
 their daily fervices, in the patience and firmnefs in bear- 
 ing the unavoidable affliflions of life, which his continual 
 devotions, and his intire dependence on God, have given 
 him. 
 
 It is a grievous refledion, that inftances of this kind 
 are fo rare. The generality of families have fallen away 
 
 from 
 
3i8 The religious ^Duty of 
 
 from God, and his fervice, have given up their depend-* 
 ence upon him, and fought for proteftion and fupport 
 from riches, from policy, from worldly power j not one 
 of which, nor all united, can avail any thing, without 
 God ; who wields them as fo many inftruments of his 
 will, sNho putteth down oncy and fetteth up another, who, 
 with a refiftlefs hand, controuls and governs all things. 
 
 The infidelity of the times has baniflied religion out of 
 moll families. It has fet up fome to feoff at this, as well 
 as other Chriftian duties •, while it enters into others, under 
 the mafk of moderation, and renders their zeal too cold 
 and feeble to refift ridicule. We may difcover the depth 
 of Satan in this libertine fpirit, by the behaviour of thofe, 
 who maintain, that we have no need to fupport a prieft- 
 hood, when every man has a right, and ought to be a 
 prieft in his own family. Thefe very perfons, who, for 
 certain felf-interefted ends, contend for this right, are fo 
 far from living, in any refpeft, like priefts, that they dif- 
 cover not the leaft figns of religion in their lives and con- 
 verfations, or in their families. That prieftly fundlion, 
 which they may, and ought to exercife in their families, I 
 mean reading prayers to them, and intruding them in the 
 principles and duties of religion, they (hew no fort of in- 
 clination to. They not only defpife the very thoughts of 
 having prayers in their houfes, and even grace at their 
 tables ; but they laugh them out of the families of other 
 weak men, who are guided by little elfe, in matters of 
 the laft importance, than the mode ; whofe narrow un- 
 derftandings afford them but one rule for their cloaths, 
 and their religion. 
 
 As this contempt for family prayer is the effeft of in- 
 fidelity in people of falliion, fo it is the caufe of that ig- 
 norance among the vulgar, which, next to libertinifm 
 itfelf, is the fcandal of this age and country ; and, in all 
 probability, will prove the ruin of the latter. Were the 
 lower people, who have the feweft means of inftru6lion, 
 accufbomed to hear a form of prayer pronounced once or 
 twice a day, in their houfes, they would, in a little time, 
 and infenfibly, learn that form by rote ; fo that, what- 
 foever principles or duties it contained, they would foon 
 
 commit 
 
Parents and Majlers enforced, 3 ip 
 
 commit them to memory, and could afterwards teach and 
 explain them to their children. But, while they hear 
 little or nothing of God and religion in their families, it is 
 no great wonder, if they at laft almoft lofe fight of both. 
 Were the principles of religion wrought into the forms of 
 their devotion, and their devotions mixed with their daily 
 buiinefs, as the chief, and that on which the fuccefs of all 
 the reft, in a good meafure, depends, it would fcarce fail 
 of having excellent etfedls on their piety, their knowlege, 
 and the honefty and regularity of their lives. By this 
 means, at the fame time that the mafter of a family dif- 
 charged the duty of a domeftic prayer, he might alfo at 
 once go near to execute the other, of inftruding his chil- 
 dren and iervants. 
 
 But it is not only the ignorance of religion, and that in 
 the poorer famihes, that is, in fo great a meafure, to be 
 charged on the neglcft of family worfnip, the miferies 
 and diftreffes that atBift families of all kinds, do, in all pro- 
 bability, ipring chiefly from this troubled fountain. The 
 uncommon difafters and judgments, that fall fo remark- 
 ably on ungodly families, fufficiently fliew the danger of 
 living without God. The furicus grief, the racking im- 
 patience-, the fallen murmurs, the wild and impious dif- 
 tradion, that in fuch families are obferved to attend the 
 common and ordinary afRidions of life, Ihew but too 
 plainly, that as they have forfaken God, fo God has for- 
 faken them, and given them over to their own miferable 
 infirmities, when they moft need his afiiftance. The 
 way cf the Lord ha"je they not knowjt ; and, like true 
 backfUders in hearty they are filled with their own ways. 
 Is it any wonder, x\\aX.GodJJjould four out his fury on thefe 
 heathens, who know him not, and, upon thefe families, who 
 call not on his name ? 
 
 The poor, v/ho do not worfhip God in their families, 
 inftead of learning by their poverty to humble themfelves 
 before God, to pray to him, who alone is merciful enough 
 to hear, and able to deliver ; inftead of learning to hate a 
 world in which they have io fmall a portion, and fo little 
 pleafure, and to turn their hearts, and place their con- 
 liden.e in God j have forgot their dependence on him, 
 
 have 
 
320 *^he religious TDuty of 
 
 have fet their afFedions on things below, and put their con- 
 fidence in unfanftified labours, and unjuft arts. Surely 
 they are poor^ they are foolijh ; for they know not the way 
 of the Lord^ nor the judgnient of their God. 
 
 As for the rich, who, though they have known the 
 way of the Lord, and the judgment of their God, have 
 neverthelefs negleded this duty, their ingratitude is as 
 great as their folly. No, favours can oblige them, no 
 bounties tie them to God. They have altogether broken 
 the yoke, and burft the bonds. They have difcharged 
 themfelves and their families from the fervice of God. 
 They are grown proud, and deny him, and fay, who is the 
 Lord ? If they live and become old, yea, and are mighty in 
 power ', If their feed is eflablifloed in their fight with them, 
 and their offfpring before their eyes •, If their houfes are 
 fife from fear, and God lays not his rod on them ; If their 
 bidl gender eth and faileth not, and their cow calveth, and 
 cafteth not her calf-. If they fend forth their little ones 
 like a flock, and their children dance ; If they take the 
 timbrel and the harp, and rejoice at the found of the organ ; 
 If they fpend their days in wealth, and, by an eafy death, 
 go down in a moment to the grave ; do they therefore fay 
 iinto God, depart from us, for we defire not the knowlege 
 of thy ways ? Do they therefore fay. What is the Al- 
 mighty, that we fhoiild ferve him .<* And what profit fhould 
 we have, fhould we and our families pray unto him ? 
 Might not one rather expeft, that they (hould fay to their 
 wives, their children, and their fervants. Behold what 
 great things the Lord hath done for us ! He feedeth us 
 with good things -, He poureth his benefits upon us ? come 
 therefore let us worfhip, and fall down, and kneel before 
 the Lord our Maker ; Let us confefs our fins together 
 with forrow and fhame ; Let us, with one voice, pray for 
 the continuance of all his mercies ; Let us come before his 
 prefence with a fong ; Let us be thankful unto him, and 
 fpeak good of his name, for it is a good thing to give thanks 
 unto the Lord, and to fing fzaifes unto his name \ to tell of 
 his loving kindnefs early in the morning, end of his truth 
 in the night feafon ? 
 
 Upon 
 
Parents and Majlcrs ejiforced, 321 
 
 Upon the whole of this matter, let every mafter thus 
 queftion with himfelf. Is it not for great ends and rea- 
 fons that God has placed me at the head of a family ? 
 Ami not accountable to him for the difcharge of this im- 
 portant office ? Do not the future welfare of my children 
 and fervants depend very much upon the education they 
 receive from me ? If I do not inftrud them in the prin- 
 ciples of religion, and breed them up to virtue, where 
 Ihall they get inftru6lion ? Is there any thing dearer to 
 me, than thofe who work for me, and depend on me ? 
 Can there be a greater crime than to negled; and defraud 
 their very fouls ? Does not the providence of God govern 
 the world ? Is not God the founder and preferver of fo- 
 cieties, and of families in particular ? Can they fubfift 
 I without religion ? Shall I then fuffer my family to wane 
 j religion ? Shall I not rather take particular care that my 
 I houfe ferve God by daily prayer ? Can any thing I do be 
 I fo ufeful to us, as to worfhip him on whom we intirely 
 depend ? Can any thing be more agreeable than to ferve 
 and praife him, to whom we are fo infinitely indebted ? 
 Shall my own idlenefs, or the feoffs of libertines, deprive 
 us of fo great a benefit and pleafure, and force me, like 
 an atheift, ungratefully and impicuHy to fhut out God 
 from my fam.ily, to entail ignorance and contempt of God*s 
 worlhip on all my pofterity and dependents r Shall I put 
 my trull in my own endeavours ? Shall I build my hopes 
 upon the fand of this v/orid, and forfake the rock of my 
 falvation, when I lb plainly perceive the duty, the neceA 
 fity, and the power of prayer ? No, like the righteous 
 Joby I will continually [antlify my family ^ that God may^ 
 as he did to him, make an hedge about me and my houfe, 
 and about all that I have on every fide. We will feek his 
 firengih in the time of trouble -, in all our trials will we 
 rely on it, and in our profperity praife him with pure lips, 
 and joyful hearts. Eveningy and mornings and at noon^ 
 will we pray^ and cry aloud, and hejhall hear our voice. 
 
 Vol. II, y D I S- 
 
[ 32* ] 
 
 DISCOURSE XIX. 
 
 The Honour due to God*s Name. 
 
 Leviticus xix. 20. 
 
 Te JJjall not [wear by my Name faljly j neither JJmlt 
 thou profane the Najjje of thy God : I am the 
 Lord, 
 
 WE know and fpeak of God as we do in relation to 
 other beings ; that is, wc know him by his attri- 
 butes, and fpeak of him by his Name. When we make 
 a vow to him, we confider him as omnipotent and omni- 
 fcient, as a Being that fearches the heart, and knows our 
 thoughts. When we fwear by him, or call on him to 
 witnefs the truth of what we fay, we are obliged to name 
 him, as we do other witnefles ; and the rather, as he is 
 not vifible, and therefore cannot be pointed to by the eyes 
 or hands, as men, whom we appeal to, may, provided 
 they are prefcnt with us. This is the reafon why, in my 
 text, in the third commandment, and in many other 
 places of Scripture, fwearing by the Name of God figni- 
 fifs the fame thing as appealing to God for the truth of 
 what we affirm or deny. As, on all occafions, whether 
 of appealing to, or difcourfing ol God, his Name repre- 
 fents him to our apprehenfion, we are always to pay the 
 fame awful refpedt to his Nam-, that we do to hirnfelf j 
 
 that 
 
^he Honour due lo God's Name. 32^ 
 
 ?hat is, we are never to life it, but on important and ne- 
 ceflary occafions, and then vvicli the deepelt veneration. 
 It is reported of the famous Mr. Boyle^ whofe piety kepi: 
 pace with his knowlege, that he never pronounced the 
 Name of God without bowing, or making an obfervablc 
 paufe in his converfation. His practice in this particular 
 may pofTibly feem a htde fingular ; but it will be a fcvere 
 reproach to the reft of mankind, to fay, the fpirit from 
 whence this praftice proceeded was fingular too. Few 
 men know as much of God, or his works, as he did ; 
 but we all know enough, both of his majelly, and our 
 own vilenefs, to fill us .with awe and fear whenever he is 
 fuggefted to our thoughts ■, particularly by that facred and 
 glorious Name, which, diftinguifning him from all ocher 
 beings, points him out to our adoration. 
 
 ■Let us now, having found the right ufc of that only 
 word in the text which might feem to throw any obfcuncy 
 on the reft, proceed to confider the duties enjoined us by 
 the whole. Two things are here charsred on our con- 
 fciences -, firft, that we fwear not faljly by the Nar/ie of 
 our God 't and, fecondly, that we do not profane that 
 Name i and thefe two are prefled home 'by God, in thi 
 clofe, with thefe awful words, / am the Lord. 
 
 That we may the better apprehend the nature and im- 
 portance of an oath, or an appeal to God, and be thereby 
 the better guarded againft the danger of falHng into 
 either fin forbidden in the text, let us briefly trdcc the 
 neceiTity of fuch appeals, and fettle our notions concern- 
 ing the ufe of them. 
 
 Our thoughts and intentions, till they are exprefTed by 
 words, or reduced to aiflion, cannot be difcovertd by 
 others, who, in cafe they always rc:main thus concealed, 
 are as little concerned in them, as they are acquainted with 
 them. But, as foon as ever they begin to be of any con- 
 fequence to the reft of the world, that is, as iuon as they 
 are intimated in words, or put in practice, it is then pof- 
 fible for the perfons, whom they may concern, to come at 
 the knowlege of them •, fo that, if they are in any mea- 
 fure injurious to themfelves, or detrimental to the com- 
 
 Y 2 munity, 
 
§24 ^j^^ Honour due to God*s Name, 
 
 munity, they may be either wholly, or in part, prevente(^ 
 or, at lead, puniihed. 
 
 But when the words or adlions are of fuch a nature, or 
 the perfons who fpeak or do them are fo circumftanced, 
 that neither redrefs nor animadverfion can be procured, 
 without application to the magiftracy, then fuch evidence 
 of what was faid or done, as fhali appear fatisfadtory, 
 becomes abfolutely neceflary. The perfon ftruck at, can 
 no more give this evidence, in moft cafes, fingly and of 
 himfclF, than the party accufed can clear himlelf by his 
 foie teftimony. Neither can the evidence of others, al- 
 tho' feemingly indifferent, clear or afcertain the point, 
 unlefs the judge can fearch their hearts, or they can de- 
 pofit fome pledge, fully fufRcient to anfwer the damages 
 that may arife from falfe teftimony in the cafe. Nor can 
 this pledge be either releafed, or finally forfeited, till the 
 matter comes to be tried before a Judge, who is able to 
 fearch the witnefs's heart, and cannot be deceived. 
 
 Till fuch a judge can be found, the whole proceeding 
 ftops, and muft remain in the fame uncertainty that at 
 firft attended the difcovery of the truth. It will be as 
 reafonable to fufpeitthe accufer of fahhood, as the accufed 
 of the bad attempt or adion laid to his charge. The cha- 
 rafcers of the perfons concerned, and the circumftances 
 of the cafe, may balance each other ; or, being unknown 
 to i\-\^ judge, may want further evidence to clear them up \ 
 and that further evidence may be as reafonably fufpedled 
 as the firft : For my faying, that fuch or fuch a witnefs is 
 an honelf man, is nothing, unlefs it is firft proved, that I 
 am a man of truth. His teftimony, again, who vouches 
 mine, muft be vouched by another •, and fo on for ever- 
 The moit that can be made of teftimony like this, is 
 fome fhew of probability. But, generally fpeaking, the 
 operation of laws, whether they relate to properties or 
 crimes, is not fafely to be trufted to probabilities, only in 
 fome fewuncommon cafes, where the probability approaches 
 nearer to a certainty ; which, with fuch teftimony as I 
 have defcribed, is hardly ever to be expeded. 
 
 How then ? Is law a lottery ? Is the die thrown for a 
 dtcree or verdid; in every tryal ? Do property, liberty, 
 
 and 
 
The Honour due to God's Na??ie. 325- 
 
 ^nd life itfelf, depend abfolutely on chance ? They ct;r- 
 tainly do, and for ever muft, till a witnefs can be called, 
 who knows what is a doing, both openly and in fecret, 
 over the whole earth -, who fearches the hearts, and knows 
 the inmoft thoughts of all mankind ; whofe juftice in ma- 
 nifefting the truth, is equal to his knowlege ; and whofe 
 power to punifli the depofer of a lye, is equal to his wif- 
 dom and juftice. To fuch a witnefs as this all other wit- 
 nefies muft folemnly appeal for the truth of what they 
 tcftify •, and pledge their fouls for the integrity of their 
 depofitions ; or equity and iniquity have but the fame 
 chance to refult from their teftimony, This appeal, thus 
 bicked by a pledge of infinite value to the appellant, is 
 what we call an aftertory oath -, becaufe the witnefs there- 
 by afferts, that fome particular faft was, or was not done, 
 or, at leaft, that he does not with certainty know, whe- 
 ther it was, or not. 
 
 Men of this world, whofe charafler it is to look no 
 ^higher than to laws and magiftrates of their own making, 
 and to witneiTes as flightly principled as themfeives, may 
 make a jeft of religion ; but we fee it is a point evidently 
 demonftrable, that, without it, there can be, in effe(5l, 
 neither law nor juftice among men. Whatever they fay 
 againft religion, is faid againft the laws of fociety, if 
 they mean any thing elfe by law than a myftery of ini- 
 quity, contrived for the deception, and executed to the 
 oppreflion, of all but the initiated. 
 
 But taking it for granted, that I have given a juft and 
 right notion of an oath, and its ufe, let us now fee what 
 is the duty of him who fwears. The text fays, he mufi 
 not fwear faljly. 
 
 In the firft place, then, that he may fwear with the 
 moft fcrupulous regard to truth -, and, in order to keep 
 this fcrupulofity always awake, he ought never to fwear 
 but when compelled to it by neceTity ; that is, when 
 truth and juftice muft be ftifled, the property or life of 
 his neighbour loft, and the legal authority refifted, in cafe 
 he fnould refufe. The ftri(5l obfervation of this rule will 
 greatly help to prefer ve the delicacy of his confcience in the fe vy 
 
 y 3 appeals 
 
326 ^he Honour due to God's ISlame. 
 
 appeals he finds it neceflary to make to Almighty God ; 
 for the old faying, that Familinrity breeds contempt^ is 
 not more true of lower things, than it is even of oaths ; 
 altho' Gud is invoked, and the foul flaked, whenever we 
 fwear. 
 
 in the next place. As often as he is obliged to fvvear, 
 he muft awfully confider, what his religion tells him, that 
 God is at bis right hand, nay, thai God is about him, and 
 within him, wherefoever he goes, or whatfoever he does •, 
 that God, who knows all things, knows the faft he is 
 going to fvvear to, and how far he may, if he pltafcs, 
 be a competent witnefs in that fa6l •, and, laftly, that, in 
 fwearing, he mufb appeal not only to an infinitely wife, 
 but alfo to an infinitely juft and powerful Being, who 
 will hold him to a fevere account for what he fays, and 
 execute eternal vengeance on him, in cafe it is not ftridly 
 true. 
 
 Thefe things feelingly laid to heart, he is then care- 
 fully to weigh the degree of knowlege he really hath, in 
 the faft he is about to fvvear to ; and, having nicely di- 
 (tinguifhed it from all higher or lower degrees, he muft 
 endeavour, in his depofidon, as nicely and precifely to 
 exprefs his knowlege, fully declaring the whole truth, 
 and fcrupulouQy taking care to declare nothing but the 
 truth ; for if he fvvears to that, as certainly knowing it, 
 which he only believes, or as matter of belief, which he 
 certainly knows, as his thoughts and words do not go 
 together, and as God is watchful to note the difference, 
 the deponent ftands no lefs guilty of perjury than he could 
 have been, had he on oath affirmed that wiiich he fliould 
 have denied, or denied that which he fhould have af- 
 firmed. 
 
 Again, The fwearer is to take care, that there be no 
 f^arknefs nor ambiguity, no fhuffiing nor equivocation, 
 in his exprefnons ; and if his words, in any thing, have 
 imperfectly fet forth his meaning, he muft go over it 
 again and again in other words, till he is furc they who 
 hear him cannot poffibly miftake it. His confcience ought 
 feverely to examine ancf crofs-examine all he fays •, for tt|e 
 ^ll-kr^o^^ing Witnefs, witu whom alone his confcience i§ 
 
 ^Qncerncci 
 
The Honour due to God's Name, c 27 
 
 concerned in this matter, cannot be deceived. Whatfo- 
 ever lenfc, therefore, he either defignedly or carelefly 
 gives the hearers occafion to take him in, in that very 
 fenfe will God underftand him; and, if it is not ilriftly 
 true, will convidt him of, and punifh him for, perjury. 
 Neither the laws of religion, nor of language, will allow 
 him to have two meanings, one for God, and the other 
 for men, to what he fays. In fuch appeals as we always 
 make when we fwear, our confciences ought ever to exa(5t, 
 what we know God certainly will, a clofe conformity be- 
 tween our thoughts and words. Francis che Firft, king 
 of France, was brought prifoner to the emperor Charles 
 the Fifth, at Madrid in Spain. The emperor, after de- 
 taining him for fome time, gave him leave to return 
 into France, on his oath to render himfelf again at Ma- 
 drid by a certain day, if, before that day, certain other 
 articles of agreement Ihould not be duly performed by^ 
 him. The king never performed thofe articles, nor re- 
 turned into Spain j bur, to falve his confcience, and keep 
 his oath, he built a place in France which he called Ma- 
 drid; and there, with great formality, he rendered him- 
 felf at the time appointed. This place Hands to this day 
 a monument of his perjury ; and of another crime, if 
 poffible, greater than his perjury \ for it perpetuates the 
 memory of an attempt to impofe on- the all-knowing and 
 awful God. Great as the crime of a flat and fimple 
 perjury is, it feems to be outdone by an equivocal oath, 
 v/hich fuppofes, either that God may be thus deceived by 
 a double meaning, one declared, and the other concealed 
 and refcrved •, or that, like a party to the perfidy, he 
 may be prevailed with to connive at it. 
 
 Such is the nature of an aifercory oath, and of our duty 
 when we take it. There is another kind of oaths, called 
 promilTory, which are divided again into two forts ; the 
 one made to men, wherein God is only a witnefs •, the 
 other made to God, wherein he is not only a witnefs, but 
 a party. The laft are called vows. 
 
 Firlt, As to our duty in regard to promilTory oaths 
 made to men, we are, as in th^: former cafe, awfully to 
 confider tiis wifdom, juftice, and, power, af him, whom 
 
 Y 4 we 
 
32S ^he Honour due to God's Name, 
 
 we call on to atteft our promife •, and likewife to take 
 care, that our expreffions plainly and fimply fet forth our 
 intentions. Here the inftance, jufl now brought from 
 the culpable conduct of the French king, comes up ex- 
 4(5lly to the prefent cafe, and fhews us, by what he did 
 not do, what we in the like cafe ought to do. 
 
 But, befides thefe rules, there are others, relating to 
 the oaths I am now fpeaking of, which have no place in 
 fuch as are only afTertory. In the firft place. When we 
 promife any thing on oath to men, we are duly to con- 
 fider whether we can perform it, or not ; for, if we are 
 not fuliy convinced we can, our oath is ftrongly tindlured 
 with perjury from the beginning. Now there is one 
 thing that may, and another that ought to prevent our 
 performance. As to that which may prevent our inten- 
 tion, it is too various to be perfedly fet forth in any Dif- 
 courfe. Tiie lofs of our liberty, of our fubllance, of 
 our fenfes, of our heakh, and of our lives ; contrary 
 winds at fea, wars, revolutions, and a thoufand other 
 accidents, may, according to the nature of the cafe, hin- 
 der the performance of our oaths. We are, therefore, 
 when conditions are not neceffarily implied, always to 
 exprefs them in fomc form like this : " So or fo I will 
 " aft, if God permit, or if I fhall have it in my power." 
 But, having thus provided the proper conditions and re-^ 
 fervations, if we afterwards change our intentions, and do 
 not perform what we promifed, on a pretence that it is 
 not in our power, tho' it really is ; or on a furmife that 
 the party, to whom we gave the promife, hath not afled 
 up to his engagements, tho' he really hath, we are as 
 guiky of wilful perjury as he who flatly violates an uncon- 
 ditional oath. 
 
 That which ought to prevent the performance of a 
 promiflbry oath, is, the unlawfulnefs of its matter. We 
 are not at liberty fimply to promife what the laws of God, 
 or thofe of men which are conformable to his, have pro- 
 hibited ; much lefs may we add oaths to fuch promifes : 
 And if at any time we have been fo rafli as to do this, 
 we muft repent of it as a great and heinous fin. Now it 
 js impoflTible both righty tQ repent of the prqmife, and 
 
 I CO 
 
7he Ho?totir due to God's Name. 329 
 
 to do the thing promifed. Here the law, which is good, 
 muft cake place of our promife, which is evil \ and there- 
 fore what we engaged to do, mud by no means be done. 
 Confidered as Chriftians, all our thoughts, words, and 
 adlions, are already ruled by our baptifinal covenant, which 
 we ratified with a vow. Now the priority of a lawful 
 vow, liks that of all other lawful obligations, renders all 
 pofterior engagements of a contrary nature abfolutely null 
 and void to all intents and purpofes. Yet, tho* the cul- 
 pable obligation is void, it is not enough for us to fay, 
 we find the matter of our promifTory oath is unlawful, 
 and therefore we will not keep it. No ; we muft confi- 
 der, that we have finned very grievoufly in making it ; 
 inafmuch as we called on God to be the guardian of an 
 oath which he could not but deteft, both in itfelf, and in 
 the fwearer. We were not content with a fingle breach 
 of our vow and covenant with him, but we impudently 
 and prefumptuoufly defired him to be a witnefs of our 
 crime. This fin, therefore, demands not only amend- 
 ment, but our deepeft fighs, and faked tears. 
 
 Laftly, Having fatisficd our confciences, that what we 
 are going to promife on oath is both practicable and law- 
 ful, we muft fee, that our intentions to perform it be fin- 
 cere and firm -, for, if God fees they are not, he fees us 
 perjured, his holy Name profaned, and that which we 
 engaged for, no better fccured than if he had never been 
 made the witnefs and guardian of it. You may eafily 
 judge whether infinite Majefty can look on fuch a pre- 
 varication without the moft deep and fettled refentment. 
 
 Thefe confiderations ought keenly to be laid to heart 
 by all who enter into contracts of any fort thro' the Iblcm- 
 nity of an oath -, but more efpecially by fuch as have en- 
 tered, or are going to enter, into a married ftate. Can 
 they expeft God fiiould blefs them with love, peace, and 
 fideUty, if they do not pay a juft regard to that oath 
 wherewith they are, in fo facred a manner, bound to the 
 mutual exchange of thofe necefifary virtues ? No -, if they 
 negled them, and the oath which enforces them on their 
 confciences, they have nothing to exped, but a traitor and 
 3 tormentor, inftegd of an husband or a wife , and an 
 
 hell, 
 
^^o 7 he Honour due to God's Name. 
 
 hell, inftead of a comfortable habitation, and a well- 
 ordered family. 
 
 They likewife, who are fworn into public ennployments 
 of any kind, ought well to confider, both the great im- 
 portance of the places they fill, and the dreadful ftrid- 
 nefs of the oaths they take. If they ufe no confcience in 
 this, as the world knows they fcldom fhew any, do ihcy 
 think that God^ whofe kingdom ruleth over all^ will not call 
 them into judgment for proftituting his glorious Name to 
 all the interefted, the mercenary, the iniquitous, the op- 
 preflive views, they had in fuing for their pods .'' Do they, 
 vainly elated with their prefenc lucrative or honorary fta- 
 tions, imagine he will not fcourge them as impudent in- 
 truders on his own majefty, and execrable traitors to men ? 
 Will the God of juftice wink at public perjury, and pub- 
 lic robbery .? No, no •, the Atheift, lov*r in his principles, 
 tho' high in his llation, may laugh at his oath, may re- 
 member it only to infult it v/ith a violation of aJl its 
 parts i niay, for a time, employ the power he is trufted 
 with, to purpofes the very reverfe of thofe he fwore to 
 promote ; but he will find on that day, when it will be 
 inipofTible to be an Atheift, that there is One higher than 
 the highejl^ who regardeth^ to whom I'engeance belongeth^ 
 and who will fully repay. 
 
 Astoour duty, When we promife any thing to God, which 
 is what is underftood by a vow, all thofe precautions about 
 our expreffions, fo necefiary in other oaths, have nothing 
 to do in this. Here God enters into our hearts, and cove- 
 nants with us by our naked thoughts. Ail we have, 
 therefore, to look to in this cafe, is, firft, the reafonable- 
 nefs and piety of what we promife ; and then the firm- 
 nefs of our refolution to perform it. If the thing we vow 
 is rendered evil, either by its own nature, or by the re- 
 vealed will of God, our vow, inftead of confecrating it, 
 lerves only to deftcrate ourfelves. And, if we arc not 
 fully convinced of our refolution to fuffer every thing, 
 rather than not perform it, wc do but enfnare ourfelves, 
 and mock Almighty God. We never vow that which 
 is not, by fuppofition, a matter of confiderable difficulty ; 
 for, being rigiit \t\ itfclf, if it is pleaiant or eafy in the 
 
 performance. 
 
^he Honour due to God's Name. 531 
 
 performance, there can be no inducement to tie ourfclvcs 
 to it by a vow. He, therefore, only is fit to make a 
 vow, whofe deep and lively fenfe of religion is fufficient 
 to give him that firmnefs and perfeverance which he does 
 not find in his natural temper and make. In fuch a mind, 
 it is of infinite ufe to have its piety pointed by a folcmii 
 vow directly againft its infirmities. A vow, thus applied, 
 will anfwer the end of a cannon planted in a breach, pro- 
 vided ii is not fuffered to lie idle. This is the ufe intended 
 by that vow wherewith our baptifmal covenant is enforced, 
 which ought not only to prevent our making new ones of 
 a contrary nature, but ought Jikewifc to prevent all fuch 
 fubfequent vows, as only aim in particular at the perform- 
 ance of thofe duties which the covenant lays us under in 
 general terms. To vow anew what we vowed in bap- 
 tifm, ferves only to null, not flrengthen, that original 
 promife, wherein we contrafled on oath to do all the good 
 we can, and no evil ; and therefore left ourfelvcs no room 
 for new promifes to the fame effefl, unlefs v^^e fuppofe, 
 againft fenfe and reafon, that our tranfgreffions have wholly 
 annulled and abolifhed the baptifmal covenant and vow, 
 and fo made it necclTary to come on new terms of our 
 own invention with Almighty God. But the cafe is quite 
 otherwife. The greateft finner that ever was baptized, 
 remains all his life under the obligation of his original 
 contract, altho' totally deprived of all its benefits. Even 
 a formal renunciation cannot difcharge him, becaufe his 
 contra6t was ratified by an undeterminable vow. AH that 
 a tranfgrtfTor can do, is truly to repent of his fins ; and, 
 having recovered by meditation a lively fenfe of his bap- 
 tifmal vow, to renew it in his prayers, and at the facra- 
 ment of the Lord's fupper. God authorizes no other 
 vows or contracts for the fame purpofe. 
 
 It is true, indeed, we may innocently, perhaps profita- 
 bly, promife to God to do fuch aflions, tho' kit indif- 
 ferent by the covenant, as may help to qualify us for the 
 performance of thofe that we (tipulated for. We may, 
 tor inftance, confecrate a part of our time to fading and 
 prayer by a particular vow. Or, on the other hand, wc 
 may lay a vow againft fuch actions, aSj, altho' not for- 
 bidden 
 
332 The Honour due to God's Name. 
 
 bidden by the covenant, tempt us to the tranrgreffion of 
 feme article contained therein. If, for example, we are 
 addifted to drunkennefs, we may promife to abftain from 
 llrong liquors, although the covenant permits the ufe of 
 them. Such vows as thefe tend only to aid us in the due 
 obfervation of our original vow, and therefore feem ra- 
 ther ufeful, in fome cafes, than culpable. And yet it mud 
 be owned, that, in vov/ing obedience when we were bap- 
 tized, we did, by implication, vow the means neceflary 
 to that obedience. However, as the anions I am here 
 fpeaking of were left indifferent by our original contradl, 
 and only become otherwife by accident, the tying our- 
 felves up in refped to them cannot, I think, be difpleaf- 
 ing in the fight of God, fince we do it with fo good a 
 defign. 
 
 It is certain, there is no one thing that concerns a Chri- 
 flian fo much, as to keep his attention always fixed on his 
 baptifmal vow ; becaufe the covenant he thereby bound 
 himfelf to, is the great rule by which he is to live here, 
 and be judged hereafter. If he does not do this, he is 
 in danger of fpending the greater part of his days in di- 
 red: oppofition to the awful doftiine of my text, as well 
 as to all thofe other places of Scripture, that imme- 
 diately forbid his fins. Few men confider, as they ought 
 to do, that, over and above the peculiar guilt they con- 
 traft by each particular tranfgrefTion, they are perjured in 
 every one of their fins. 
 
 Having explained to you, as well as I could in fo 
 fhort a compafs, the doctrine that comes naturally under 
 the firfl part of my text, before I proceed to the other, 
 it may be ufeful to obferve to you, that, as it is by an 
 oath we become Chriflians, and as by oaths all the laws 
 of civil fociety operate, it concerns us above all things, 
 whether we cafl our eyes on this world, or the next, to 
 confider perjury as the crime moll capable of doing mif- 
 chief among mankind, and therefore the moft likely to 
 provoke the indignation of Almighty God. In all tranf- 
 greffions of our baptifmal covenant, he is the party im- 
 mediately injured by it. And whenever, in the affairs 
 of the world J it is applied to pervert juftice, his name is 
 
 proftituted 
 
The Honour due to God's Name. 333 
 
 .proftltuted to that abominable pnrpofe ; and he who is 
 the fupreme Governor, the King of kings, and the Guar- 
 dian of juftice, is, as far as the horrible impiety of man- 
 kind can do it, made the inftrument and means of all 
 iniquity. Robbery, rebellion, murder, ^c. are looked 
 on as crimes of the firft magnitude, and punifhed with 
 death in almoft every country. But are we to regard 
 perjury as a lefs heinous crime, becaufe it is followed in 
 this world with lefs alarming confequences ? No ; let us 
 not judge by appearances^ but judge righteous judgment. 
 In refpedt to God, no crime we can commit, blalphemy 
 only excepted, ftrikes fo direftly at his majefty as this ; 
 which fo far {hares the nature of blafphemy, that it pra- 
 ctically denies the wifdom, juftice, and power, of God ; 
 or, if it owns, defies them. If hope of impunity is the 
 moft: tempting encouragement to all manner of wicked- 
 nefs ; and if perjury gives all other fins the greateft hopes 
 of impunity, then perjury, befide its own peculiar malig- 
 nity, brings with it the foul ftain of all other fins. Every 
 one who hath frequented the tryals of our civil courts, 
 hath feen it fteal, rob, ravifh, cut throats, and take fees. 
 Let no deteftable dealer in perjuries, who lives by the 
 infernal retail of oaths, prefume to fay (none elfe, I am 
 fure, will fay it), that 1 too highly aggravate the heinouf- 
 nefs of this crime, lb big with every fort of enormity ; 
 in refpeft to God, owning and denying, profefllng and 
 renouncing him, with the fame breath ; and, with refpec^ 
 to men, ever punifhing the innocent, and rewarding the 
 guilty, and doing all it can to bring the aff^airs of man- 
 kind under fubje6tion to the author of evil. No ; it is 
 impofiible to exceed here. This is one of thofe crimes 
 which leaves all the eloquence of oratory, and all the 
 paintings of poetry, far behind i and can be fully exprelTed 
 by nothing, but the defpairing groans of him who fufFers 
 for it in eternal flames. 
 
 The latter part of my text forbids the profanation of 
 God's Name •, by which is probably meant a crime di- 
 ftind: from that which is forbidden in the former ; not but 
 that every abufe of God's Name is a profanation •, how- 
 ever, as it is here prohibited in the fame fentence with 
 
 perjury. 
 
334 ^^-'^ Honour due to God's Name, 
 
 perjury, we ought to take it for a different fin. It 12 
 that fin, then, which v/e mean by common fwearing ; a 
 pra6liceof fo odd a kind, and feemingly fo foreign both 
 to our temptations and infirmities, that nothing, at firft 
 view, can appear more unaccountable. It is, neverthe- 
 lefs, no difficult matter to trace it to its fource. 
 
 Oaths being ufed, in matters of importance, for coft- 
 jinnation^ and for an end of all fir if e among men^ as St. 
 Paul expreffes it •, and men being, in a great meafure, 
 left to judge for themfelves of the importance requifitc 
 to bring any particular affair under the decifion of an 
 oath i it was not altogether unnatural to apply them in 
 cafes of too little confequence to fuit with the folemnity 
 of an appeal to God. From hence it might come, that, 
 by Uttle and little, they were brought in to confirm alTer- 
 tions in private converfation ; and at length ufed as argu- 
 ments in matters of opinion -, infomuch that many, for 
 want of rational proofs, or of credit, to lupport what 
 they fay, impioufly call on God to atteft aiTevcrations too 
 trifling :o require the word of a child. 
 
 But, howfoev'er it comes to pafs, men accullomcd to 
 back what they )ky with fuch proofs, are generally lefs 
 believed than thofe who only give their v/ord ; and are 
 rufpeded of lying as often as they are obliged to have 
 recourfe to fwearing. And indeed it is but jull to fufpedt 
 them ; firft, becaufe common or profane fwearing is a fure 
 mark of a rafh, hafty, and giddy difpofition. Now all the 
 world knows, that people of this turn f^ldom ftay to exa- 
 mine things ; that they form their opin'.oiis too precipi- 
 tately, and pronounce too vehemently ; and that there- 
 fore no fort of men are fo likely to make miftakes, and 
 propagate them, whenever they are believed. The ufe 
 they make of oaths fhews, they themfelves are fenfible 
 of this, and fliould ferx^e to no other purpofe, but to 
 give warning of the hj^ to which they are tacked. In 
 the next place. Their too great familiarity with oaths is 
 enough to render them fufpeded, when they fwear with 
 the utmcft folemnicy, and in m.atters of the greateft im- 
 portance, before a court of juftice. They who are ever 
 and anon appealing to GoH, and forcing his Name into 
 
 every 
 
The Honour due to Gois Name. g^ 
 
 every trifling fentence, cannot be fuppofed to think of his 
 Divine Majelly with that awe and reverence which is ne- 
 ceiTary to the folemnity of an oath. Such men, there- 
 fore, as they deferve, -fo they meet with, Jefs ciedit than 
 any other fort of men. Befides, in the lafl place, it is 
 very obfervable, that this fort of fwearing generally arifes 
 from a confcioufnefs in the fwearer, either that what he 
 fays is incredible in itfelf, or that his naked affirmation, 
 fo low is the character of his integrity, can give it no 
 credit with the world. There is a fort of balbfulnefs in 
 ly^, that makes them afraid to venture out till they have 
 an oath to give them countenance -, whereas truth hath a 
 right to be confident, becaufe it is felf-fuppoited. 
 
 There are others, again, who fwear in converfation, 
 not that they care much whether they are believed, or 
 not, but becaufe they have got an habit of fwearing. 
 They heard others fwear, and therefore they fwore ; and 
 fwore on, till their tongues were fo accuftomed to pro- 
 nounce the dreadful words, that they did not need to be 
 prompted by their thoughts. Perhaps I fhould aflc par- 
 don for feeming to af-ribe the power of thinking to 
 wretches, to whom no fenfe of gratitude to an infinitely 
 gracious God, nor any fear of almighty vengeance, can 
 extort fo low an inftance of duty, as that of abitaining 
 from a crime they have not the leal! temptation to com- 
 mit. 
 
 There is a third fort of fwearers, whofe tongues arc too 
 nimble for their brains, and who are therefore (being de- 
 termined to keep them always going) obliged to fupply 
 thofe aClive organs of found with a let of ftandin«^ 
 words, which mean nothing, but fcrve to keep them in 
 motion, till their tardy thoughts can furnifh them with a 
 more pertinent fort of nonfenfe. They pitch on oaths 
 for their purpofe, becaufe they are a rattling and founding 
 fort of words, that make up in noife what they want in 
 ienfe, and io feem better fitted than any others to fill up 
 the vacancies of difcourfe. Were there no profanation in 
 this pradice, furely a man might infinitely better confult 
 the credit of his underitanding by holding his tongue, 
 tlun by fwi;aring, which, at tlie beit, is but talking for 
 
 wane 
 
33^ I'ke Honour due to God's Name. 
 
 want of fomething to fay. A poor fhifc for poverty oF 
 thouglic ! and capable of exciting only pity or contempt, 
 were ic not that the ridiculous meannefs of the thing is 
 loll in the horror we are ftruck with at fuch enormous 
 profanation. How can the reft of mankind, who yet 
 retain fome refped for Almighty God, bear to hear his 
 holy and glorious Name not only mixed with trivial, non- 
 fenfical, or lewd difcourfe, but mixed with it, for no better 
 purpofe, than to daub up its gaps and broken paufes ? 
 
 There are others, again, who abound fufficiently with 
 fmall thoughts, and words fuitably fignificant, which, 
 put together, make but forry entertainment for the hearer. 
 To remedy this great defedt, and give their converfation 
 an air of fpirit and fire, they here and there enliven their 
 infipid fendments with a bold dafti of blafphemy, which 
 thunders in the ears, and terrifies the minds, of fuch as 
 have the misfortune to hear them. They would have us 
 take this for the fure fign of a fierce intrepid jpirit, awed 
 neither by refped towards men, nor by the fear of God. 
 All this, however, is mere affeded flafh, and the world 
 knows it. The world knows full well, that this bullying 
 appearance is put on only to conceal a real littlenefs of 
 foul ; and accordingly always regards loud and boifterous 
 fwearing as the intallible mark both of a fenfelefs mind, 
 and a daftardly heart. How often have we feen a wretch 
 of this itamp, after thus infulting the Majefty of heaven, 
 fubmic patiently to the vileft indignities from a man whom 
 every-body knew to be no great hero ? But we Ihould not 
 forget, that thofe worthies fwear as much to fhew their 
 wit, as their mettle ? And is it not equally a proof of 
 neither ? Can there be any wit in an oath ? If others have 
 ufed it for ages, can there be any thing clever in the re- 
 petition of a little nonfenfe worn threadbare by the mob 
 in every kennel ? Or hath any man rcalon to value him- 
 fclf on the invention of a new oath, wherein there cannot 
 poffibly beany thing either to furprife or pleafe, but the 
 bare impiety of the exprefiion ? Impiety, it is true, may 
 pleale ^ but whom ? Not, furely, the fenfible or good. 
 And is it only the fool, and the fcoundrel, whom thefe 
 witlings would tickle, at the expence of every thing 
 
 jacred ? 
 
The Honour due to God's Name, 337 
 
 facred ? It is perhaps unreafonable to grudge them a 
 fatisfadion fo very fmall, for which they are to pay their 
 fouls, thus rated by themfelves, in the fight of God, at 
 half a mite, while, in the fame inflance, they are paraded 
 off to an unthinking world, as fouls of the firft magni- 
 tude. 
 
 Thefe men, however, whom I have been fpeaking of, 
 arc a fort of Chritlians, and only fwear by that which 
 they feem at other times to lay fome ftrefs on. They have 
 a little faith, which ferves to give a proportionable figni- 
 ficance to their profanation. But why fwears the Atheift 
 by God ; and the Deift by Chrift ? Who hath made con- 
 verts of their tongues, and given them juft religion 
 enough to fwear by ? No one ; their tongues are ftill as 
 infidel as their hearts ; but they intend their oaths for 
 blafphemy •, nay, for a fort of proofs, that there is no 
 truth in religion ; for we are to underftand, that thefe 
 men of genius fwear only becaufe they do not believe ; 
 and do not believe, becaufe they have found out, that 
 religion is a lye. And would they have us take them in 
 this light, when they are called before a court of evi- 
 dences, or fworn into a place of truft and profit ? for 
 here they will fwear to fome purpofe, as well as in com- 
 pany for amufement ; but the public ought a little better 
 to confider, that the oath of an infidel can be no pledge 
 for his fidelity. 
 
 There is hardly any vice that is not as ridiculous on 
 the one fide, as it is (hocking on the other. Swearing 
 fallly is taking God's Name in vain j becaufe, inftead of 
 clearing up the point it is applied to, it only ferves to 
 conceal the truth, and {^x. thofe aftray who depend on it. 
 Here the vice looks as fhocking as all the wickednefs it 
 abets, and its own horrible impiety, its own infernal trea- 
 chery, can make it. Profane fwearing is taking God's 
 Name in vain, becaufe it is applied to no purpofe. Here 
 it looks as ridiculous and contemptible as the grofs, the 
 cxcefTive folly, it fprings from, can render it. Viewed all 
 together, it prefents us with the pifture of a devil play- 
 ing the buffoon, whofe countenance js compounded of 
 horror and grimace, 
 
 Vol. II. Z . To 
 
3^8 J'he Honour due to God*s Name, 
 
 To conclude : Let the profaner of God's awful Name 
 know, that, altho* it is beneath the dignity of the infi- 
 nitely ferene and majeftic Being to purfue every infolent 
 offender with immediate vengeance ; yet a time ihall come, 
 when he who now lifts his head aloft, and fputters his 
 great words againjl the Mofi High, muft fall down over- 
 whelmed with defpair in his prefence -, when the flubborn 
 heart muft melt at his looks, and the blafphemous tongue 
 lick the duft before him. Then, at leaft, he muft learn 
 to fear the great, the glorious the terrible. Name of God, 
 when the almighty arm is lifted up to vindicate its honour. 
 
 As to you, who may have hitherto been lefs fcrupu- 
 lous than you ought about the truth of what you fwore 
 to, put your heart in deep mourning for the horrible of- 
 fence ; tremble and repent before the all-knowing Judge 
 of angels and men •, and let me earneftly prefs you, as 
 you fear God, and regard your foul, to a fixed relblution 
 never to fwear for the future, but when the clearing up of 
 fome weighty truth necelTarily requires it. As often as 
 this Ihall be the cafe, feelingly, fearfully, confider what 
 you are going to do. Confider, that the property, the 
 credit, the liberty, perhaps the life, of your neighbour, 
 is to be determined by your oath ; for the truth of which, 
 you are not only to kifs the Bible, but to appeal to Al- 
 mighty God with a folemnity fuitable to his majefty, and 
 the importance of the caufe you are called to. Thefe 
 things duly laid to heart, let it be your bufinefs to fwear 
 cxadlly in the fame manner as if you were fummoned to. 
 your oath before the throne of God at the laft day -, for, 
 whether it is here, or there, that you fwear, confider, it is 
 in the prefence of that God who knows all things, who 
 forgets nothing •, of that juft and almighty Being, who 
 fpeaks to you in my text, faying, *' Youjhall not fwear 
 " f^Wy h ^^y ^^^^i ^sitber /halt thou profane the Name 
 '* of thy God : I am the Lord: that is, I am he who now 
 *' governs, and will hereafter judge, the world. I am 
 «' he who can and will reward the man of true piety and 
 '* integrity with the joys of heaven ; and I alfo am he 
 '* who will punifti the vile offender, that fwears falfly by 
 *' my Name, and profanes ir, with the torments of heii. 
 
"The Honour due to God's Name, 339 
 
 *' I am the Lord, gracious to the good, and terrible to 
 •' the wicked. I am the Lord, ivbo execute righteouf' 
 *' nefs and judgment. I will blefs him who fweareth to 
 *' his hurt, and change th not ; but my curfe Jhall enter 
 '* into the houfe of him that fweareth falfly by my Name. 
 " Mine eyes run to and fro through the earth j and behold, 
 " hecaufe of fwearing the land mourneth ; for there is no 
 " truth, 7ior mercy, nor knowlege of God, in the land. 
 *' By fwearing, and lying, and killing, and flealing, and 
 " committing adultery, they break out, and blood toucheth 
 *' blood. Shall I not vifit, fhall I not execute vengeance, 
 " for fuch things as thefe ? Tes ; / will be a fwift wit- 
 *' nefs againji the faJfe fwearer. I will convid him, not 
 *' only of his prevarication, but of all thofe other crimes 
 " which he hath concealed and encouraged by his per- 
 ** jury." 
 
 Such IS the fin of perjury ; fuch the fin of taking God's 
 holy Name in vain ; and fuch his indignation againfl both. 
 Let us feelingly lay thefe things to heart. Let us con- 
 fider, that we ought not to be infolent, merely becaufe 
 God is patient ; for vengeance is his, and, in due time, 
 he will furely repay. Art thou a profaner of God's 
 awful Name ? Deteftable fool ! What pleafure, what 
 profit, accrues to thee from this abominable pra6lice for 
 the prefent ? And how doft thou fet thyfelf up as a mark 
 for the arrows of the Almighty, when patience, long 
 abufed, Ihall kindle into indignation, and mercy itfeif 
 call for vengeance on thy head ? Or haft thou the bold- 
 nefs to call on God to atteft a lye ? Know, odious de- 
 ceiver, that, if there is a God, thy own horrible crime, and 
 every otherfinconcealed,abetted,encouraged, thereby, fhall, 
 with accumulated judgment, be fearfully punilhed in thee. 
 Know, dark infernal monfter, that, if there is a devil, 
 his fate and thine muft be the fame j for thy foul is black, 
 treacherous, and impious, like his. Know, O thou vileffc 
 of men ! thou rebel to God ! thou pcft of human fo- 
 ciety ! that, if there is an hell, there muft be thy por- 
 tion for ever ; and think what it is to dwell with ever- 
 lafiing burnings. Think, think, and repent, 
 
 Z 2 Let 
 
540 The Honour due to God's Name. 
 
 Let us now earneftly befeech Almighty God to fill us 
 with an awful fear of his holy and glorious Name, that 
 we may never prefume to utter it, but with the deepeft 
 reverence ; nor appeal to it, but with the utmoft regard 
 to truth. Grant this, blefled Father, for the fake of 
 Chrift Jefus our Redeemer ; to whom, with Thee, and 
 the Holy Ghoft, be all might, majefty, dignity, and 
 dominion, now, and for evermore. Amen, 
 
 D I S^ 
 
'\ 
 
 [341] 
 
 DISCOURSE XX. 
 
 Chriftiaiis muft follow Chrifl-. 
 
 Philip p. ii. 5. 
 
 het this jnind be in you, which was alfo in 
 Chrift Jefus, 
 
 IT was the intention of the apoftle, in the paflage From 
 whence this text is borrowed, to prefs the Philippians 
 to humility, unanimity, and patience, by the glorious 
 example of our Saviour. It was impolTible to urge an 
 argument of greater force -, for befide that nothing hath a 
 ftronger influence upon the adlions of men than the ex- 
 ample of thofe they admire, whereas this was the example 
 of a perfon they adored ; they were moreover, as the dif^ 
 ciples of Chrift, under an indifpenfible duty, under an ab- 
 folute necefTity, of following their great Leader, in order 
 to accomplifh the fame blefifed defign, and arrive at the 
 fame happy place, to which he had fhewn them the 
 way. 
 
 For this purpofe it was neceffary they fhould be adled 
 by the fame principles, and governed by the fame mind 
 and fpirit, which was alfo in Chrift Jefus. Again, as 
 members of his facred body, the Church, they muft have 
 been willing to renounce their own foolifh minds, their 
 own carnal hearts, and give themfelves up intirely to the 
 government of that i.n fallible mind : For no man can be 
 
 Z 3 really 
 
^42 Chrlftiam muft folloiv Chriji. 
 
 really a member of Chrift's body, who is not governed 
 by the mind of Chrift. A man may indeed have the 
 name, and claim the outward privileges, of a Chriftian, 
 by being baptized and continuing in the profefTion of 
 Chriflianity ; but if he is ftill the flave of his own paflions, 
 if he is governed by his own mind and will, how can he 
 call himfelf a member of Chrift's body ? Does he not 
 know, that in the great day, when the wheat and the chaff 
 jhall be feparatedy there Jhall be neither fpot nor wrinkle 
 left in the body of Chriji, hut that it Jhall be holy and 
 without bkmijh? How then can he imagine, that a difor- 
 derly, a convulfive, or a dead member (hall be fuffcred 
 to remain in it ? On that occafion, the mere profeffor 
 may fay to Chrift, have I not been baptized into the 
 Chriftian Church ? Have I not eat at thy table ? Have I 
 not lived and died in thy religion •, nay, he may even fay, 
 have 1 not preached, in thy name, and in thy name cajt out 
 devils? But this will avail him nothing ; for Chrift will 
 fay unto him, / know you. not \ depart from me all ye that 
 work iniquity. 
 
 Since then the benefits of Chriftianity are to be expefled 
 upon no other terms, than thofe of having the mind or 
 fpirit of Chrift, and, as a necefiary confequence of that, 
 living up, as far as human frailty will permit, to the ex- 
 ample of Chrift, it muft, in the higheft fenfe of the 
 words, be both our duty and intereft to fet that great ex- 
 ample before us, and, by confidering it well, and labour- 
 ing to follow it, iatisfy ourfelves, that, in the main of our 
 aftions, we are governed by no other mind but his. 
 
 In the firft place, there was in Chrift a perfe6t purity 
 and freedom from all fin. He was made like unto us in 
 all things, fm only excepted. Although he had the foul, 
 the body, the fenfes, the paflions, and afFedions, of a 
 man, yet no temptations could betray him into the fmalleft 
 inclination to fin. In order to reclaim them, he con- 
 verfed with the grofteft of finners, and fuffered even the 
 devil to tempt him with all the allurements, with all the 
 pomps and pleafures, of the world ; for that feducer, not 
 knowing, that in him ihefulnefs of the Godhead dwelt bodily^ 
 tried on him all thofe arts, that had proved but too fuc- 
 
 cefsful 
 
Chrijliam mil jl follow Cbrljl. 343 
 
 cefsful with Adam, David, Solomon ; that is, with the 
 wileft and bell of men ; but all in vain. The mind that 
 was in Chrift Jefus, being infinitely wife, faw eafily thro* 
 all his difguifes, and all his fnares •, and, being perfeftly 
 good, rejected his offers, with a fuperiority and calmnefs, 
 that (hewed, he had not the leaft ftruggle with himfelf in 
 doing it. And what is well worth our obfervation, is, 
 tJiat his behaviour on that occafion might afford us an ex- 
 ample capable of imitation, he did not feem to apply to 
 his divinity to repel the attacks of his adverfary, but 
 ufed fuch arguments as we in like cafe may furnilh our- 
 lelves with, to fortify himfelf againft temptation; that is, 
 palTages of Scripture. Chrijl then hath left us an example^ 
 that we Jhould follow his Jieps, who did no fin, neither was 
 guile found in his mouth. But if we fall into a courfe of 
 fin, we can have no refembiance of Chrift, and therefore 
 cannot be united to him : We do not follow Chrift, and 
 confequently cannot expedt to enter into glory, to which 
 there is but one path, marked out by his blefTed foot- 
 fteps. 
 
 in the hiftory of our Saviour we have the higheft in- 
 ftances, and the brighteft example, of piety, which it is 
 polTible for the imagination to conceive ; and which feems 
 to be placed before our eyes, in a great meafure, for our 
 imitation : For as his Divine Nature put the accomplifh* 
 ment of all his purpofcs within the power of a fingle aft 
 of his will, to defire, and execute, was the fame thing 
 with him. And yet, as he was a fon, and a man, he, on 
 many occafions, addreffes himfelf to his Father, with all 
 that dignity and fimplicity, all that duty and fervency, 
 which ought to condufl: and enliven the devotions of a 
 mere man. What muft we think of the neceftity we are 
 under of duly performing this facred inftance of fervice, 
 when we fee the Son of God, who could command ten 
 thoufands of angels to do whatever he defired, falling on 
 the ground, and putting up his petitions to the Father ? 
 This confidered, how can a Chriftian defpife or negle(5t 
 this duty •, and, to excufe himfelf in lb doing, fay, that all 
 events are left to the natural courfe of fecond caufes ; or 
 that God, knowing our occafions better than we do, nei- 
 
 Z 4 ther 
 
344 Chriftians vnijl follow Chn'fi. 
 
 ther wants to be informed or follicited in relation to them ? 
 If fuch perfons had the mind that is in Chrifb Jefus, they 
 would not thus fet his do6trine, in refpecfl to prayer, at 
 variance with his pradlice, but rather make ufe of the one 
 to explain the other. It is true, God knows our wants bet- 
 ter than we do ourfehes^ as our Saviour hath told us, and 
 is infinitely gracious and ready to fupply them. But are 
 we, for this reafon, to forget our dependence on him, or 
 expert, although we fhould, to be gratified on a lefs ap- 
 plication, than his only-begotten and well-beloved Son ? 
 If the fpirit of Chrift be in us, it will not fail to carry up 
 our fpirits and hearts in the warmeft a6ls of devotion to 
 that throne of grace, to which the prayers and praifes of 
 our blefied Pattern were direcfled. 
 
 There was nothing in our Saviour's life that fupplies 
 us with a more uleful or a more diftinguifhed example, 
 than his aftonifhing charity. He came into this unhappy 
 world, he took on him our nature, liable to fo many and 
 grievous miferies, to fave finners ; that is, to fave from 
 eternal mifery, and condu(5l to everlafting glory, a race 
 of wretches in open rebellion againft himfelf. Pie healed 
 the diftempers of our bodies, cured the diforders of our 
 minds, raifed to new life thofe who were dead, either in 
 3 temporal or fpiritual fenfe; and, after all the indignities 
 and cruelties Vv^e could load him with, when he was nailed 
 to the crofs by our hands, he prayed to his Father to for- 
 give us. Can we call ourfelves the difciples of fuch a 
 Mafter, // we have not love one towards another ? If that 
 amiable and forgiving mind be in us, which was in Chrift 
 Jefus, inftead of doing any hurt to our neighbour, we 
 ihall labour to do his foul and body all the good we can ; 
 and, if he chance to injure us, v/e fhall feek a noble re- 
 venge only in ferving him with all the good offices in our 
 power. His example in this refpcdt he himfelt recom- 
 mends to us. yf J / have loved you^ love ye alfo one an- 
 other. As to forgivenefs of injuries, we have ftronger 
 reafons to follow his example in that refpecl, than he had 
 to fet it ; for he was without fin, and wanted no forgive- 
 nefs i but we, being cornpajfed about with many infirmi- 
 ties, are d&ily ofFefiding both God ^nd in^n \ and there- 
 fore 
 
Chrifllans mujl follow Chrijl. 34^ 
 
 fore lie under greater obligations to forgive, as we (land 
 in fo great need of forgivenefs. We ought to feel the 
 infirmities of others in our own, and be led from thence 
 to pity and pardon in our fellow-creature, what we have 
 lb much lealbn to lament in ourfelves. Were we as free 
 from fin, as Chrift himfdf, it would be our duty to for- 
 give \ for otherwife we could not be hke him ; and how 
 much more then, fince we ourfelves are offenders ? 
 
 Again, in the life of our Saviour we have a moft won- 
 derful example of contentment. Although heaven and 
 earth belonged to him, as their Maker and Proprietor, and 
 he could have furnifhed himfelf with pleafure and glory 
 from the fulnefs of both •, yet he condefcended to take on 
 him the form of a fervant^ of a poor and needy perlbn, 
 of an exile, of a man of forrow^ and acquainted with grief i 
 who, though he made all things, and gave the very foxes 
 their dens, and the young ravens their food, had not 
 where to lay his head, nor any legal property of his own 
 to fupport him. How unworthy of fuch a Mafter muft 
 that difciple be, who coming naked into the world, and 
 pofiefling nothing, but by the mere bounty of Providence, 
 is diffatisfied with his condition, becaufe he enjoys not more 
 of this world's wealth and honour than his divine Mafter ? 
 But he thinks he hath defeived a better lot : deferved of 
 whom ? Of God } If he hath vanity enough to ftand upon 
 his merits with Providence, let him know, that eternal in- 
 famy and mifery is all he can deferve of God. If he had 
 the mind of Chrift, he would fit down fatisfied with the 
 low and indigent condition of Chrift. We do not enough 
 confider how greatly Chrift hath dignified poverty by his 
 his example, as well as fweetened it by his precepts. 
 Blejfed are the poor in fpirit, fays that gracious Mafter, 
 for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. As Chriji^s kingdom 
 was not of this world, that man can be no follower of his, 
 who cannot be fatisfied without fomething like a kingdom 
 here, although he may, by humility, provide a much bet- 
 ter one hereafter. 
 
 Our Saviour's example affords us the higheft inftance 
 of refolution that can be conceived. There is nothing 
 fnocking or terrible in nature, which he was not obliged 
 
 to 
 
34^ Chrijlians mujl follow Chnjl. 
 
 to encounter with. The utmoft cruelty of man, td<yti^ 
 by the blacked malice of devils, was difcharged upon him 
 in diftrefies of every kind. He was flandered, reproach- 
 ed, fpic upon, buffeted, betrayed, falfely accufed, and 
 cruelly murdered. Now, though he could have avoided 
 all this, yet he went through it all with a calmnefs and 
 fleadinefs perfedily aftonifhing and inconceivable. Such 
 refolution makes even humility majeitic. If fordtude 
 does not comprehend all the virtues, it is at leaft the 
 foundation of them all •, infomuch that there is no being 
 a Chriftian without it ; for he who is a Chriftian, muft 
 have firmnefs and perfeverance to withftand all trials, to 
 face all dangers, and contemn all calamities, that may at- 
 tempt to frighten, or force him from his duty ; with 
 ftrength and conftancy to refill all allurements that might 
 otherwife feduce him from it. There is no warfare, in 
 which fo high a degree of refolution is required, as in 
 that againft our fpiritual enemies. It is for this reafon, 
 that we ought to fix our eyes on the courageous example 
 fet us by our great Leader, that, if pofiible, we may be 
 fired with a portion of the fame glorious and undaunted 
 fpirit, that (hone in him with fo much luftre amidft all his 
 horrible conflicts. Nothing but the mind that was in him 
 can enable us to fight our vvay through the various diffi- 
 culties that {land between us and the prize of cur high 
 calling, the crown of everlafting life. The irrefolute and 
 fickle Chriftian hath no courage to renounce the world, 
 or to fubdue himfelf ; but is ever wavering and dodging 
 between his principles and his paffions ; as if it were pof- 
 fible to travel on the narrow way, and the broad at once ; 
 though the one leads to hell, and the other to heaven. 
 Wo be to the fearful hearty fays the fon of Sirah, and 
 faint hands, and the /inner that goeth two ways. Can 
 fuch a man, who is unflable in all his ways, hope that 
 fo unlleady a foul, and fo dead an heart, will ever be 
 able to carry him up through that deep and difficult, 
 though glorious path, his Saviour hath trod before him, 
 and marked every ftep of it with his blood ? No : it is 
 impoffible. Heaven muft be taken by ftorm, and can 
 
 never 
 
Chrljliam mtift follow Chriji, 347 
 
 never be won by fo cowardly and fo faint-hearted a 
 foldier. 
 
 Again, as our hearts are corrupt, our alfedions un- 
 clean, and our pafTions wild, there is no one virtue we 
 Hand more in need of than feif-denial. Self, miftaken 
 and degenerate felf, is our greateft enemy ; and therefore 
 to guard againft, and fubdue ourfelves, is a duty of the 
 molt necefiary obligation, and a matter of the higheft 
 confequence. Now the whole life of our bleffed Saviour 
 is, from beginning to end, a moft: wonderful example of 
 feJf-denial. Although he could have had no occafion for 
 this virtue on his own account, he being purity and holi- 
 nefs itfelf, yet, in order to fet the necefiary precedent, as 
 the Son of God, he denied himfelf the glories and rap- 
 tures of heaven, and, as the fon of man, all the pomps 
 and pleafurcs of the world, and became a man of forrows, 
 to fave others. What notion can we have of the gran- 
 deur of that mind, that was all tears and tendernefs to the 
 miferies of other men, nay of even the bittereft enemies, 
 but had no relenting for himfelf, when he felt that agony 
 which forced his blood through his pores, and faw the 
 fhame and terror of his death approaching ? No language 
 hath a name for this height of virtue. Generofity, and 
 felf-denial, and mortification, and mercy, all put toge- 
 ther, are by no means fufEcient to exprefs it. St. Paul 
 argues extremely well with us, upon this example. IFe 
 iben, fays he, ought to bear the infirmities of the weaky 
 and not to pleafe ourfelves. Let every one of us pleafe 
 his neighbour^ for his good to edification. For even Chriji 
 pleafed not himfelf. The felf-pleafer, and the felf-willed, 
 is too unlike Chrift to have any fbare in him, and is go- 
 verned by a mind fo narrow, and fo oppofite to the mind 
 of Chrift, that it is impolTible he (hould ever be united to 
 him. How can he be a member of Chrift, who centers 
 all his pleafures and interefts in himfelf, not in Chrift, the 
 head, nor in his fellow- chriftians, the members of Chrift*s 
 body. He cannot be an eye, nor an hand, nor a foot, 
 in fiich a body, which hath but one common intereft ; for 
 he never fees, nor acfls, nor ftirs, but for himfelf, unhap- 
 pily, for his own miftaken felf, His mind is very unlike 
 
 the 
 
34^ Chri/iiaJis mu/l follow Chrijl. 
 
 the mind of Chrift ; for that, wherever it works at all, 
 works for the common good of the whole body. 
 
 But further \ there is in the life of our Saviour the mod 
 perfe(5l pattern of humility. Although he was the King 
 of heaven, yet he took upon him the form of a fervant^ 
 and in that form endured, with an amazing calmnefs, the 
 contempt of thofe he came to fave. He, who had been 
 accuftomed to the hofannahs and hallelujahs of angels, 
 fubmitted to the feoffs and taunts of men, who called 
 him a fnadman^ a wine-bibber^ and /inner. He heard the 
 hlafphemy of the multitude^ but made no reply •, for as a 
 lamb before her fhearers is dumb, fo he opened not his 
 mouth. They fpat in his face, and fcourged him, and he 
 fubmitted with infinitely greater humility, than thofe who 
 are guilty are able to fhew on the like treatment. His 
 example in this refped he himfelf hath exprefsly recom- 
 mended to us. Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly 
 in heart. When he had wafhed the feet of his difciples, 
 he faid unto them, know you what I have done to you ? 
 Te call me Majler and Lord ; and ye fay well, for fo I 
 iim. If I then, your Lord and Mafter, have waJJjed your 
 feet, ye alfo ought to waflj one another's feet -, for I have 
 given you an example^ that you foould do as J have done 
 to you. Verily, verily, I fay unto you^ the fervant is not 
 greater than his Lord, neither he that is fent, greater 
 than he that fent him. If ys know thefe things, happy 
 are ye, if you do them. As there is no vice, to which the 
 nature of man is fo prone, nor that of God fo averfe, 
 as pride, fo our blefled Saviour took particular pains to 
 enforce the example of his own humility on us for that 
 very reafon. And fhall we, when we fee the Son of God 
 ftooping fo low, carry ourfelves with an high head, and 
 ftiff neck ^. Shall we, who are but earth and afhes, refufe 
 to bear what he did, to whom all -power in heaven and 
 earth was given^ who is exalted above all principality and 
 power, and to whom a name is given, at which every 
 knee mufl bow? The proud man hath not that mind 
 which humbled Chrift to the death of the crofs -, for which 
 God exalted him, and gave a name, which is above every 
 mme i but chat mind and fpirie, which threw down fatan 
 
 out 
 
ChriJ}ta?is mujl follow Chrifi, 345^ 
 
 -out of heaven, into a place of endlefs fliame and tor- 
 ment. 
 
 Again, as by nature and necefTity we are for ever to be 
 fubjeds, to the church and the civil magiftrate here, and 
 to God hereafter, there is no difpofition or virtue more 
 neceflary to us than obedience ; and therefore we ought to 
 train ourfelves to it, with the utmoft dihgence, by all the 
 precepts of the Gofpel, and particularly by the example 
 of our bleffed Saviour, in which this virtue fhines forth 
 in a peculiar manner. We know, that as he is God, all 
 power belongeth unto him -, and yet he paid the mod exadt 
 obedience, not only to the will of his Father, but even 
 to the rulers of the Jews^ as well civil as eccleiiaftical •, al- 
 though thofe rulers were either the worft of men, and 
 the molt lawlcfs of ufurpers, or only the mere deputies 
 and delegates of his own power. Befides, the obedience 
 which he humbled himfelf to, was, in another refpecl, the 
 greateft inftance of refignation that ever was heard of ; be- 
 caufe he not only fubmitted to authority and power, but 
 to perfecution and injuftice, of the fevereft and grofleft 
 nature. Though a king, he fubmitted to the punifhment 
 of a (lave ; though innocent, to the death of the guilty. 
 There is no fuch obedience required of us by Almighty 
 God, nor can be •, becaufe before him we are all fervants, all 
 guilty. Men indeed may punifh us for a crime we never 
 committed ; but in this they are only the inftruments of 
 Providence, to lay on us a fmall part of thofe fufferings, 
 which are mod juftly due to us, on account of our mani- 
 fold offences in other refpefts. But, fuppofing us intirely 
 innocent, what does the example of our blefl'ed Saviour 
 recommend to us? An humble refignation. His precept 
 alfo does the fame •, if thine enemy fmite thee on the one 
 cheek, turn to him the other alfo. St. Peter likev/ife reafons 
 very well with us to that effed. 7^/6/j is thank-worthy, if 
 a man, for confcience toward God, endure grief, fuffering 
 wrongfully. For what glory is it, if when ye be huffetted 
 for your faults, ye ffjaU take it patiently ? But if when 
 ye do well, and fuffer for it, ye take it patiently ; this is 
 acceptable with God. For even hereunto were ye called \ 
 hecauje Chrijl alfo fuffer ed for us, leaving us en cxa7nple^ 
 
 that 
 
350 Chnftia?is mu/I follow Chrifl. 
 
 thai ye Jhould follow his fiefs j who did no ftn, neither 
 was guile found in his mouth. Thus certainly will he de- 
 mean himfelf who is governed by the fpirit of refignation 
 and obedience, that was in Chrift Jefus ; and, inftead of 
 thinking it a difgrace to him, will glory in fharing, with 
 his Lord and Mailer, the honour of an innocent fufferer. 
 
 Again, in the life of our blefTed Saviour there is a mofl 
 iifeful example of patience, in comparifon of which even 
 that of Job was but difcontent and fretfulnefs. Through his 
 whole hfe he met perpetual contradidlion and oppofition ; 
 which however was on no occafion able to ruffle the fet- 
 tled calmnefs of his mind. He found his difciples ftiff in 
 their prejudices, in ignorance, and world ly-mindednefs ; 
 through pride contending for fuperiority, through vanity 
 raifing objeftions, through incredulity difbelieving or 
 doubting, in fpite of the mod exprefs prophecies, and the 
 mofl amazing miracles •, and, through a deadnefs to fpi- 
 rituai doftrines or promifes, ready, on every occafion, to 
 defert or betray him. Yet he held on inftru6ling them, 
 with meeknefs, till he changed them into a different kind 
 of men. The Scribes, the Pharifees, the Sadducees, took 
 their turns to encounter him with difficult queftions, which 
 he baffled with aftonifhing wifdom, but never triumphed 
 or infulted. There was no kind of artifice, no degree of 
 cruelty, unemployed by the rulers of the Jews, to flop 
 the progrefs of his doftrine, or to deftroy his perfon ; but 
 all could never force him either to complain or repine. 
 When he was arraigned, and nothing could be brought 
 againft him, but the clamours of a mahcious multitude, he 
 pleaded the caufe of his innocence only with filence ; and, 
 though he heard his judge almofl with one breath declare- 
 ing his innocence, and condemning him to die, he was 
 not in the lead difcompofed at the iniquity of the fentence, 
 at their preferring a thief before him^ at their cloathing 
 him in derijion with purple, at iheir crowning him with 
 thorns, at their bending the knee to him, and mocking him 
 with. Hail king of the Jews, at their binding his hands, 
 at their making long furrows in his back with their fcourges, 
 at their fpitting in bis facv, at their Jirji blindfolding him, 
 and thm fir iking him -, and afterwards bidding him pro- 
 
 phefy 
 
Ch7-iflians mujl follow Chnfl, 35I 
 
 phefy who it was that fmote kim. All this could draw 
 no iign of impatience from him. Still he was calm and 
 undifturbed. When at laft they nailed him to his crofs, 
 and ilood round him, making a jeft of his pains, and 
 fporting themfelvcs with his agonies, he was even then not 
 only as meek and patient as ever, but, while his body was 
 fhivering in the agonies of death, his foul was melting 
 with tendernefs and compaffion towards his murderers, and 
 pleading with his Father for their pardon, by the only ar- 
 gument their injuftice and cruelty had left him -, Father 
 forgive them, for they know not what they do, O aftonifh- 
 ing patience ! O inconceivable goodnefs ! What an exam- 
 ple is here ! With what fentiments of mind and hearc 
 fhould we receive it ! Let us, in imitation of this fur- 
 prifing and affefting pattern, rim with patience the race 
 that is fet before us, looking unto Jefus, the author and 
 finijher of our faith ; who, for the joy that was fet before 
 him, endured the crofs, defpftng the fijame, and is fet down 
 at the right-hand of the throne of God. For confider him 
 that endured fuch contradiction of /inner s againfi himfelf, 
 lefl ye be wearied and faint in your minds, Te have not 
 yet rejifted unto bloody Jlriving againji Jin. Surely ye can- 
 not forget the exhortation, which fpeaketh unto you, as 
 unto children, my fon defpife not thou the chajlening of the 
 Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of him. For whom 
 the Lord loveth, he chajleneth, and fcourgeth every fon 
 whom he receiveth. If ye endure chafiening, God dealeth 
 with you as with fons : for what fon is he whom the Fa- 
 ther chajieneth not ? But if ye be without chafiifement^ 
 whereof all are partakers, then are ye baflards, and not 
 fons. Furthermore, ye have had fathers of your fle/h, who 
 corrected you, and ye gave them reverence : Jhall ye not 
 much rather be in fubjeCfion unto the Father of fpirits, and 
 live ? For they verily for a few days chaftened you after 
 their own pleafure ; but he for your profit ; that you might 
 he partakers of his holme fs. Now, no chafiening for the 
 prefent feemeth to be joyous, but grievous : neverthelefs, 
 afterwards it yieldelh the peaceable fruit of righteoufnefs 
 unto them who are exercifed thereby. IVherefore lift up 
 the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees, and bring 
 3 forth 
 
352 Chrijiiam mnjl follow Chrift. 
 
 forth fruit with -patience^ knowmg that tribulation worketh 
 patience.^ and patience experience^ and experience hope. 
 Wherefore if, in the courfe of things, afRidlions fhould 
 come upon you, or it fhould be your lot to be perfecuted 
 for your honefty, or your religion, take up your crofs 
 chearfully; and, with a patience and conflancy like that of 
 your mafter, fight out the good fight of faith ^ and, at the 
 laft, you fhali find yourfdf with him in peace and hap- 
 pinefs, which fhall have no end. 
 
 The hiftory of our blefied Saviour affords you many 
 other ufeful examples, which, on parucular occafions, may 
 be highly ferviceable to you. For inflance ; his gravity 
 (for there is a tradition, that he was never feen to laugh), 
 if imitated by you, will prepare you for meditation, will 
 help to keep your mind free from vain and foolifh 
 thoughts, and may fometimes awe and reftrain thofe you 
 converfe with from light and wanton difcourfe, which is 
 infectious, and never intirely free from guilt ; for he hath 
 aiTured us, that every idle word that men fhall fpeak, they 
 fhall give account thereof in the day of judgment. His 
 boldnefs in maintaining the truth, and fharpnefs in re- 
 proving the hypocrite, and the conceited and flubborn 
 finner, would be of unfpeakable fervice in thefe unbeliev- 
 ing and fhamelefs times. • Now, it is your duty to imitate 
 him in this, let your condition in the world be never fo 
 low -, for truth and virtue come againfl falfehood and vice 
 with a majefly from the meanefl mouth. His mildnefs and 
 tendernefs, towards fuch as tranfgreffed through human in- 
 firmity, is alfo highly deferving of our imitation. You ought 
 to take care, like him, not to brufe the broken reedy nor 
 quench the fmoaking fiax^ of a repentance as yet in its in- 
 fancy, nor to defpife the broken and the contrite heart. As 
 a parent, as a mafler, and in many other refpects, you 
 will find this example ufeful to you. Again, it is your 
 duty to imitate his love of juflice, who was contented to 
 fatisfy that attribute of his Father by his own death, pur- 
 fuant to his engagement from the beginning •, and fhould 
 not, if you have promifed or fworn aught to you neigh- 
 hour^ difappoint him^ though it were to your own hin- 
 drance J but walk uprightly, and work righteoufnefs, and 
 
 fpeak 
 
Chrijiians mufi follow Chrijl. 3^^ 
 
 fpeak the truth from your heart. Laftly, his amiable 
 modefty in fpcaking of himfelf would much better become 
 you, who fall fo infinitely (hort of him in wifdom and 
 goodnefs. If Chrifl: could afcribe his knowlcge and 
 power to his Father, and fay, if I bear witnefs of myfelfy 
 my witnefs is nothing, with what grace fhall you fet your 
 hand to an high certificate of yourfelf ? 
 
 You have here a perfeft pattern of a good life, with- 
 out a fingle blemifh to pafs on weaknefs and ignorance, 
 under the fhelter of many virtues, for an excellence. 
 You fee here all the paffions of human nature fubdued, 
 and reduced to their proper ftations and offices. You fee 
 here reafon, aOifted by the Divine Spirit, refined and ex- 
 alted into true wifdom, and placed, where it ought to 
 fland, in an abfolute fovereignty over the heart. If you 
 love beauty, and would defire to copy it into yourfelf, 
 here is beauty in perfe6tion placed perpetually before your 
 eyes ; in an original, fo glorious, and fo flriking, that it is 
 impoflible for a fenfible mind to behold it attentively, 
 without growing into fome refemblance of it. If you 
 love true greatnefs of foul, here (hines the very majefty 
 of virtue ; not in precepts, or commands, or difcourfes 
 only, but in an aftive and living example. If you have 
 fo much goodnefs, as to be pleafed with the triumphs of 
 virtue, behold it here put to the feverefl teft, and breaking 
 out at the laffc with an heavenly brightnefs. If you be not 
 abandoned to all fenfe of generofity, your foul muft kindle 
 at fuch an example ; efpecially when all that was fuffercd in 
 fetting it, and all the goodnefs difcovered in it, were dif- 
 played before your eyes, not out of ollentation, or to ex- 
 cite your wonder and applaufe, but to force home upon 
 your degenerate heart, the glory, and excellence, and 
 and beauty, of holinefs. There is no example fo apt to 
 make an imprefTion on a good mind, as that which is fet 
 us by our friend in a good office; becaufe, befide the 
 pleafure we take in feeing a good adlion done, our grati- 
 tude, when it is done to ourfelves, recommends it the 
 more ftrongly to our imitation. Now all that Chrifl did 
 or fuffered was for you. For you the Son of God took 
 the nature of man j for you he preached j for you he la- 
 
 VoL. 11. A a baured; 
 
3 54 Chrijliam mufi JoHciv Chrifl. 
 
 bcured ; for you he died. What now will you do for 
 him ? All he requires of you is, to do your utmoft to be 
 like him •, and, to affift your wcaknefs in fo good a work, 
 he lends you his word, his facraments, his grace,, and his 
 example -, which laft, as it is too excellent and perfedt to 
 be ever equaled by you, fo it leaves you room to grow 
 better, and brighter, and improve for ever by it. 
 
 It was the fin of our firfl parents to attempt, by a 
 Faulty imitation, or rather by emulation, to be hke God ; 
 for the tempter laid to Eve^ you Jh all be as gods. This, 
 according to the real intention of that deceiver, defaced 
 the image of God, which we had already received, and 
 imprinted on us the likenefs of the devil. But God, pity- 
 ing our miferable fall, which had happened through a 
 defire of being like him, by the very fame defire fchemed 
 our recovery and reftoration. To this end he took our 
 nature on him, fo that it may now be truly faid, behold, 
 God is become like one of us, fubjefl to poverty, and hun- 
 ger, and cold, and death •, that we may have an oppor- 
 tunity of becoming, like him, pure, compaffionate, hum- 
 ble, and patient. And fhall we difippoint his gracious' 
 intention ? Can we be fo loft to reafon and gratitude ? 
 
 Yes, wretched creatures that we are ! few of us have 
 any inclination to follow our bleffed Lord •, for he walks 
 in the way of humility, we in that of pride ; he through 
 the crofs, we through pleafures ; he through poverty, and 
 we through riches and vanity. And why do we not fol- 
 low him } Becaufe he moves upward through the fleep and 
 tiarrow path of affliction and fclf-denial. Did he lead 
 downward through the broad way, adorned with riches, 
 and pleafures, and pomp, and honour, we fhould be ready 
 . not only to walk, but run after him. 
 i3 It hath been obferved, by St. Ambrofe^ and other great 
 men, that example hath a greater influence on us than 
 precept. This leems to be verified by experience ; for 
 although precept is on the fide of virtue, yet, as example 
 and cuftom generally fway the contrary fide, we are by 
 that means, for the moft part, engaged in a courfe of 
 vice. But why will v/e ^choofe out fuch examples, and 
 follorjs a multitude to do evil, when we know fo well 
 
 where 
 
Chrijllans mufi follow Chrtfi. ^rr 
 
 where their journey is to end, rather than follow the Lord 
 of glory, that lovely light, that blefled guide, to thofe 
 happy man/tons he is gone before to prepare for us in his 
 Father^ s houfe? 
 
 God, of his infinite mercy, give us grace to betake 
 ourfelves to this wifer courfe, through Chrift Jefus our 
 great example and Saviour ; to whom, with the Father, 
 and the Holy Spirit, be all might, majefty, dignity, and 
 dominion, now, and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 A 4 2 PIS- 
 
[ 3f6 ] 
 
 DISCOURSE XXI. 
 
 Chrift's Crucifixion celebrated every Day. 
 preached on Good-Friday, 
 
 St, Mark xv. 21. 
 
 — Woe to that maUy by whom the Son of Man is 
 betrayed, ■ 
 
 THIS was fpoken by our bleiTed Saviour of Judas ; 
 but as Abraham was the father of the faithful^ fo 
 yudas feems to have been the father of the unfaithful ; I 
 mean in refpedl to Chrift, and his religion ; and therefore 
 what is here faid of Judas particularly, being neverthelefs 
 delivered in general terms, may be well enough applied 
 to, or underilood of, that very numerous tribe or race, 
 of whom he was the type and father. The woe'is not only 
 denounced againft him, but againft them all; and it would 
 have been better for every man of them that he had never 
 been born^ than that he fliould have lived to betray, in any 
 {ink OP refpedV, the Saviour of the world. 
 
 As Chrift, when on earth, had a natural body, through 
 which he was liable to injuries and fufferings, fo he hath 
 ftill a myftical and figurative body, namely, the Church ; 
 the very life and well-being of which depend ablblutely on 
 
 '- ^oing 
 
Chrijl's Crucifixion celebrated every Bay, ^57 
 
 keeping up that fpirit of piety and virtue he infpired it 
 with. This body ftill renders him liable to injuries and 
 perfecutions ; and he may, even at this day, be betrayed, 
 or crucified. He hath open enemies enough to do the 
 one, and treacherous followers in abundance to do the 
 other. 
 
 The treatment he met with in his natural body, was 
 an exa6t type throughout of that which he hath all along 
 fufFered in the myftical. In the firft he was expofed in a 
 manger, when an infant ; and, although notified to man- 
 kind by angels, was by men driven from his country ; 
 perfecuted afterwards, when he returned to it, with ex- 
 treme malice ; at length betrayed by one of his followers ; 
 deferted by all the reft -, and crucified by his enemies. 
 In the latter he was, from the beginning, treated with the 
 utmoft contempt, by the wife and great people of the 
 world ; and, although preached to mankind by the mod 
 undefigning and the beft of men, and even by the power 
 of God, manifefted in the moft aftonifhing miracles, yet 
 was harraffed with ten bloody perfecutions ; torn to pieces 
 by herefies and fchifms, the poifonous produce of worldly 
 and flelhly minds 5 and is now, at length, deferted, or 
 betrayed, a thoufand diff^erent ways, by thofe who call 
 themfelves after his naine ; while his enemies crucify him 
 afrejh^ and make a jeft of his fufFerisgs. 
 
 Chrift, in refped of his adverfaries and follov/ers, is in 
 much the fame circumftances and fituation as when on 
 earth. The attack made on him is artful and bitter 5 the 
 defence cold and carelefs. 
 
 The enemies of his perfon and preaching were the wife, 
 politic, and powerful perfons of the time and place he 
 lived in. He was called a king •, but, as his ki?tgdomwas 
 not cf ibis world, they treated him as a mock king, with 
 the utmoft contempt and derifion ; and although people 
 feldom give themfelves much trouble to oppofe or fup- 
 prefs him whom they defpife, yet they hated him for 
 the freedom of his reproofs, for the ftridtnefs of his do- 
 <5lrine and morals i that is, for the good he did, and would 
 have others to have done ; and therefore perfecuted him, 
 as an enemy to themfelves, bccaufe he was a friend to man- 
 
 A a 3 kind» 
 
5 5^ Chrijl's Crucifixion celebrated every Day. 
 
 "kind. His miflion from God was what moil alarmed 
 them i becaufe, as their power was either not from God, 
 or employed againft his honour and intention to the fer- 
 vice of the devil, they could not help apprehending the 
 <;noft difagreeable confequences from the increafe of an op- 
 pofite fort of power. They were of this world, and of 
 their father the devil, and their kingdom was the kingdom 
 of darknefs. But Cbrijl was from above, was of the Fa- 
 ther of lights, and his kingdom brought with it fuch light, 
 as reproved their evil deeds. From hence arofe the moft 
 oppofite kind of contrariety. He fupported his caufe with 
 truth and miracles •, and they, afcribing thofe miracles to 
 the devil, oppofed that caufe with worldly policy and power. 
 As truth could not be refuted by reafon, they were forced 
 to ufe art and cunning for that purpofe ; and, when that 
 alfo failed, bribery, falfe witnefs, violence, and murder, 
 were called in to manage the debate. Swords, ftaves, 
 fcourges, crofles, were an odd fort of argument : but 
 when an odious fett of truths cannot be either anfwered, or 
 refifled, thofe who fpeak them muft be killed •, and this 
 will filence them effeftually. There is no middle term 
 like that which ftrangles or cuts the throat of an oppo- 
 nent. 
 
 The prefent adverfaries of Chrift, and his religion, are 
 of the fame kind, and animated with the fame fpirit. 
 They leave no art untried, which their cunning can fug- 
 geft, nor inftrument of injury unemployed, which power 
 hath put into their hands, to undermine or batter the 
 caufe of Chrift ; and both their cunning and power, al- 
 though as yet limited by the public toleration given to 
 religion, are far from being inconfiderable. As to their 
 cunning, which long concealed itfelf under the mafk of 
 benevolence towards mankind, and regard to what they 
 call true religion, ic begins, now that the foundation of 
 infidelity is fufficiently laid in the falfe rcafonings and cor- 
 rupt affeftions of mankind, to fhew itfelf more openly. 
 The freedom of thinking, fo loudly called for, in order, 
 as it was pretended, to combat popery and fuperflition 
 with, appears to be no lefs than an unlimited licence, 
 claimed by each libertine, to think for himfelf ; that is, 
 
 to 
 
Chrifi^s Crucifixion cehWated every Day. 3 5*9 
 
 to put truth for faKhood, and fallhood for truth •, good 
 for evil, and evil for good •, when his own peculiar fchemes 
 of pleafure, or profit, or honour, require the tranfpofition. 
 Men who think in order to one common good, muft all 
 think one way. But this, as it would too much hamper a 
 genius that afpires to unlimited thinking, is too narrow 
 and flaviih ; and therefore, under the plaufible pretence of 
 purfuing the common good in a way peculiar to himfelf, 
 each of them is for fheltering his own private fcheme of 
 thought : than which nothing can be more ftrongly op- 
 pofed to the common good of mankind, either fpiritual 
 or temporal. Many ingenious treatifes of independent 
 morality have been publil"hed within thefe fifty years : each 
 overweening moralifcr inventing a new fyftem of duty, 
 and placing obligation on a different and favourite footing 
 of his own. Thtfe are put, by thofe who love to be fore- 
 moft in the fafhion of opinions, where their bibles were 
 formerly placed -, and are become fo common, as to be ad- 
 mired and followed by creatures that can hardly read them. 
 The world, being furniihed with thefe, is in no want of re- 
 velation ; and the raw divine, forgetting the word of God, 
 and the great ties of religion, retails the moral beauties^ 
 and the fitnejfes of things, in the pulpit. Others, under 
 pretence of defending the Chriftian religion in this or that 
 refpedl, have laboured in their writings, with infinite art, 
 to run it up to abfurdities and contradidlions, or to make 
 it fpeak againfl its own authority or neceffity. Thefe 
 goodly magazines furniih matter for thofe talkers, who, 
 over their wine, aflault, by furprize, the half-digefted 
 principles of their loofe and unwary companions; and, fa- 
 voured by that opportunity, intufe a more dangerous and 
 lading intoxication, than that which flows from the bot- 
 tle. That their declamations may penetrate the farther, 
 they are pointed with wit and humour, borrowed from 
 the fame ftore •, which pafs as fterling arguments on fuch 
 occafions, and in fuch a caufe •, though, God knows, to 
 men in their cool lenles, they are as far from wit, as 
 reafon. 
 
 As to the power of thofe perfons, who perfecute Chrift 
 n thefe times, it is almoft as great as fortune and ftation 
 
 A a 4 can 
 
260 ChrijVs Crucifixion celebrated e'very Day, 
 
 can make it : It is, in a word, like the power of thofe 
 who perfecuted him at firft. Luxury follows wealth, and 
 vice is rather the companion, than the follower, of luxury. 
 Now vice can never be fecure or eafy, till it hath fitted it- 
 felf with proper principles, that is, with infidel principles. 
 A man of fenfe ought to fin on principle, or not at all ; 
 for to fin againft principle, is to tafte but half the gouft 
 of fin. But he who fludies only to pleafe himfelf, can 
 eafily bring himfelf to think as he pleafes. A flight ar- 
 gument is fufficicnt to convince him, who goes more than 
 half-way to meet it ; nay, who, rather than fl:ick out, will 
 yield to his appetites, and go the whole length. A per- 
 fon of this fore is in no difpofition to continue in, or clofe 
 with, fuch principles, as confine him to narrow bounds, 
 and oblige him to purfue happinefs through the eye of a 
 needle. He is a great man, his tafte is exquifite, his ap- 
 petites ftrong, his defires high and extenfive, and his con- 
 fcience large. He muft have room ; and therefore if his 
 principles are narrow, they muft burft and fall off' \ and 
 fuch as are more lax and eafy muft be put on. Men who 
 live in affluence and eafe, and are given up to this world, 
 and the enjoyment of what is here, as they have defires 
 of different fizes, generally adopt proportionable princi- 
 ples -, from whence it proceeds, that there are different de- 
 grees of latitude in their fchemes of thinking. Some re- 
 tain more, and fome lefs, of religion ; but hardly any of 
 them will admit of more than he knows how to reconcile 
 with the plan of life, dictated to him by his pleafures and 
 worldly views. Now all men are pleafed with their own 
 ways of thinking, and defire to bring others over to them, 
 or, at leaft, are willing to defend them ; and from de- 
 fending one's felf, to the profelyting of others, there is , 
 but one fhort ftep. Befides, the fame vanity that moves 
 a man to defpife an old or common notion, and to beat 
 out new ones, prompts him ftrongly to fpread thofe of 
 his own inventiorv, efpecially if he be any way doubtful 
 of their truth, he can never reft thoroughly fatisfied with 
 them, till he hath tried them upon the underftanding of 
 other men ; and then, if they happen to clofe with them, 
 5il though perhaps on his recommendation, or upon motives 
 
 as 
 
Chrijl's Crucifixion celebrated every Bay. ^6l 
 
 as weak and bad as his, yet this ferves to countenance his 
 adherence to them, and he fancies they return upon him 
 with fome additional force in the rebound. The men of 
 wealth and figure, who efpoufe the caufe of liberdnifmi 
 having the advantage of the ground, make eafy conquefts 
 upon thofe below them. Their anions preach up infide- 
 lity ; infomuch that they have no occafion, in order to in- 
 creafe the number of libertines, to fay any more than is 
 neceffary to make thofe of the rank below them fenfible, 
 that they have very good reafons for being wicked. How- 
 ever, they are feldom content with this. They take a plea- 
 fure in fhewing how clearly they fee into the received errors 
 of former times, and how eafy it is for them to difcover 
 thofe truths that have hitherto been concealed. They do 
 this with wic and humour enough to demonftrate any 
 thing •, and, as the behaviour of the clergy is too like that 
 of other men, they make it moft evident, from the fail- 
 ings of fome among that order of men, that they are all 
 perfed monfters ; and that, of confequence, it is impofli- 
 ble they fhould fpeak one word of truth, either in or out 
 of the pulpit. They contrive a thoufand entertaining 
 ftories for this purpofe ; and, as to the wit neceffary to 
 turn the clergy into ridicule v/ith, they can copy as much 
 in half an hour into their pocket-books, from any liber- 
 tine writer, as may ferve them for an whole year. It re- 
 quires but little reading, and no learning, to perfecute 
 Chriftianity through its minifters ; and therefore this is the 
 topic of the young and illiterate libertine, who can fee, 
 that a bad a6lion, done by a clergyman, refutes his reli- 
 gion ; but cannot perceive, that a thoufand good ones 
 done, fome of them perhaps by the very fame clergyman, 
 and the refb by others on whom malice can fix no im- 
 putation, redound nothing to the credit of religion. The 
 more learned topics, on which religion may be attacked, 
 become the province of thofe, who, having little to do, 
 and being in fmall requeft among people of their own pro- 
 feflion or employment, are always reading on the oppofite 
 fide to religion, and come in time to be mod able Anti- 
 chriftians. Having but few opportunities given them of 
 doing mifchief in law, phyfic, or other branches of bufi- 
 
 nefs. 
 
5 6 2 Chriji *s Crucifixion celebrated every Day. 
 
 nefs, they exercife their talents on religion, and the church 
 of Chrift. All the oppofers, or, I may rather fay, ma- 
 ligners, of religion, perfecute it as far as the laws of their 
 country will permit ; and though, to favc appearances, and 
 avoid the dreadful penalties infli6led by law on blafters, 
 they give Chrift his title of Saviour, and fpeak with fome 
 decency of his religion, before thofe men in power, who 
 are known to be Chriftians, yet they treat both with the 
 utmoft indignity and virulence, whenever it is fafe for" 
 them fo to do. As far as in them lies, they ufe Chrift 
 as his firft perfecutors did. They liften to none but his 
 accufers. They give him his titles, and call him their 
 Saviour i but it is only by v.'ay of accufation. They hail him 
 indeed ; but then they {pit tipon him. They cloath him with 
 purple too ', but, at the fame time, they crown him with 
 thorns. They give him drink •,, but it is vinegar and gall. 
 
 Such are the enemies of Chrift. Let us now fee what 
 fort of friends he hath to efpoufe him. They alfo are 
 of the very fame kind with thofe who followed him when 
 on earth. 
 
 Some, obferving that he produces bread in a miracu- 
 lous way, and without labour, attend on him for the 
 loaves. They are very good Chriftians, if fitting ftill and 
 eating will make a Chriftian. As long as either the mi- 
 niftry of Chrift, or the laws that annex employments of 
 profit to conformity, can afford to fupport the profefTors 
 of Chriftianity, we Ihall have profefTors enough, who will 
 come to the table of God, as it were only for fpiritual 
 food ; when God, who fees their hearts, knows full well 
 their appetites are fet quite another way. There is no fort 
 of compliment, which thefe paratites of religion, who 
 only come to flatter and eat, are not ready to pay, ei- 
 ther to God, or their country's laws, provided they may 
 enrich themfelves by fo doing. It is this goodly prin- 
 ciple that gives us all our occafional conformifts, our an- 
 nual or mere official communicants ; whom, if you follov/ 
 back from the Lord's table to their own, or to their pri- 
 vate lives, you will find utterly divefted of all religion ; 
 and not a few of them labouring to feduce others from 
 that religion which they have been conforming with for 
 
Chrifi's Criicijixton celehratrd e'Very Day. 363 
 
 gain. This they do without fcruple or fliame ; yet, if 
 they are put in mind of this fcandalous pradice by any 
 body, they highly refcnt it, as an impeachment of their 
 fincerity and honour. But if thefe are men of honour 
 and fmcerity, as perhaps the prefent reigning opinion 
 concerning fincerity may be comprehenfive enough to take 
 them in, then it fcems the names of things are changed, 
 and fincerity ftands for hypocrify, and diJSimulation for 
 integrity. There is, I think, no one fymptom, by which 
 the extreme iniquity of the times we live in fo clearly 
 difcovers itfelf, as that no fort of men are more carefled 
 and admired among us, than thofe who rife to the moft 
 beneficial employments in the church, by fubfcribing ar- 
 ticles, and folemnly repeating creeds, which they labour, 
 with all imaginable art and anxiety, to refute through 
 the prefs, in private converfation, and in the pulpit. 
 
 A contention arofe among certain of our Saviour's dif- 
 ciples, who fhould be the greateft •, and, although he re- 
 proved their ambition, and told them, he who would be 
 greatefi among them, ought to be fervant to the reji, pro- 
 pofing his own example to them, who^ being their Lord 
 and Majler, fiooped neverthelefs to wajh their feet, yet 
 this contention is (till kept up, and carried very high. 
 There is an infinite ftruggle among all forts of Chriftians 
 for pre-eminence ; but it is not like that among our 
 Saviour's firft difciples, in order to be greatefi in hea- 
 ven, but only in order to be uppermoft on earth. The 
 bafeft arts, the vilefl flattery, the utmoft contempt of 
 all principle, all duty, all decency, are employed in 
 the purfuit of this end ; fo oppofite to the humility and 
 contentment prefcribed by our religion, and fo feverely 
 branded by the reproofs, the precepts, and example, of 
 our bleflTed Redeemer. What is highly hurtful to Chrifti- 
 anity, the loweft and bafefl fpirits often raife themfelves 
 to the higheft offices ; and that which ought for ever to 
 have remained below, as it was at firft, the mere lee and 
 fediment of the church, rifes to the top, and covers it 
 with the moft filthy kind of fcum •, which is continually 
 incrcafing and thickening, by the attraction of more fli.ff 
 like itfelf. This gives our church and our religion a molt 
 
 dif. 
 
564 Chrijl*s Crucifixion celebrated every "Day. 
 
 difagreeable afpec^:. It keeps up a perpetual ferment 
 tliroughout the whole ; and, for the moft part, fets that 
 only in view, which is the lead fit to be feen. Now 
 thofe who never look deeper than the mere furfaces of 
 things, think all is like what they fee ; or, at leaft, arc 
 willing to think it is -, becaufe they are glad to believe the 
 worft, and ftand in need of all the wickednefs of others, 
 whether real or imputed, to countenance their own. Chrifti- 
 anity is no more to blame for the ambition of its profcf- 
 fors, than Chrift was for that of his immediate difciples. 
 As he reproved the pride of thefe, fo it ftill condemns the 
 vain-glory of thofe, who, after renouncing the pomps and 
 vanities of this wicked world in their baptifm, purfue and 
 court nothing elfe, during their whole lives. 
 
 There were fuch among our Saviour's dilciples, as were for 
 € ailing down fire from heaven to confume thofe, who, on a re- 
 ligious account, had been fomewhat unkind to them •, and 
 for this piece of fpiritual cruelty they quoted the example 
 oi Elias. But our bleffed Saviour turned very Ihort upon 
 them, and rebuked them, faying, you know not what man' 
 tier of fpirit ye are of -, for the Son of man is not come to 
 defiroy mens lives, but to fave them. When Feter had, 
 in defence of his mafter, drawn his fword, and fmote off 
 Malchus's ear, Chrift bid him put up his fword ; told him 
 force was not to be ufed in the caufe of God ; that, if it 
 were, he could eafily obtain twelve legions of angels, to 
 fubdue and deftroy his enemies : and that his precept, on 
 that trying occafion, might not go without an example 
 both of his power and pity, he Jlretched forth his hand, 
 and healed the ear of him who was come to take away his 
 life. Yet, notwithftanding thefe inftances, and a great 
 deal more to the fame effed, ftrongly fet forth in holy 
 Scripture, there are thofe among Chriftians, who ima- 
 gine God ftands in need of their affiftance ; or, at leaft, 
 would have the world believe they think fo ; and are for 
 working the righteoufnefs of God by their own wrath. 
 They will fight and mangle the flefti of other people for 
 God : they will perfecute and kill for God : they will, 
 in fhort, do that for God's fake, which God hath fe- 
 verdy forbid. But what he hadi commanded, namely, 
 
 that 
 
Chrijl's Crucifixion celebrated everyday. ^6g 
 
 that they fhould do juftice, and Jhew mercy^ and walk 
 humbly with God^ that they have no incUnation to, and 
 would rather fanftify the motions of their own maUcious 
 hearts, with the pretence and name of ferving God. But 
 this fort of zeal, if it may be fo called, inftead of doing 
 honour to God, or promoting any caufe of his, furniflies 
 unbehevers with a pretence to blafpheme our religion, to 
 which they wickedly aicribe fuch effeds as are moft op- 
 pofite to its fpirit and genius, and fuch as mull be dic- 
 tated by a fpirit like their own •, that is, by a dark and in- 
 fernal fpirit. The fin of perfecution is very grievous ; 
 but furely the perfecuting of mens bodies, though by fire 
 and fword, is not a greater fin, than the attributing to 
 Chriftianity thofe hardfhips, which men, on a religious 
 account, have fufFered at one another's hands. This is 
 the worft of all perfecutions •, becaufe its aim and tendency 
 is to deftroy that religion, by which only men may be 
 faved : it is a wilful and cruel perfecution of fouls ; and all 
 under the mafk of mercy. The great deceiver fends one 
 of his inftruments into the church, who takes on him the 
 name of Chrift, does a thoufand the moft fcandalous things, 
 and, among ethers, perfecutes Chriftians for Chrift's fake; 
 offers human facrifices to a God of infinite ^mercy. Thus 
 an hideous face is put on the moft humane and amiable 
 of all religions by this traitor ; while he that fet him on 
 work hath another inftrument ready to drefs out this cru- 
 elty in its uglieft lights; to afcribe it to the religion pro- 
 fefled by the traitor named j to publifli it over the whole 
 world, and lament, to all mankind, the lofs of that na- 
 tural benevolence, which, if we believe him, the Chriftian 
 relis^ion hath banifhed from the hearts of men. Such is 
 the correfpondence kept up between the enemies of Chrift; 
 who, getting within the church, are ready on all occafions 
 to betray it ; and thofe without, who never fail to ftrike 
 in, when fuch openings as thefe are given. 
 
 We find our Saviour had difciples alfo, who not only 
 ilept out his glorious transfiguration, as yec infenfible of 
 the honour done him by his Father ; but, what was worfe, 
 fell faft afleep likewife, when his enemies were drawing 
 near, and both his command and fafety required they 
 z fhould 
 
366 Chrijl's Crucifixion celebrated every Day. 
 
 fhould be on their guard. He roufed them, and they 
 fell afleep again, and did not awake, till it was too late 
 to render him any fervice. How like thefe are his pre- 
 fent difciples ! They take their eafe, and fee him, without 
 the leaft concern, attacked on all fides. They fee his 
 divinity called in queftion ; they fee his favi^g merits de- 
 nied by pretended followers of his own ; they fee his pro- 
 feffed enemies building deifm and atheifm on this foun- 
 dation, and a torrent of impiety and vice rulhing in thro' 
 all the wide breaches made in that building, of which he 
 is the chief corner-ftone. Thefe things they fee with the 
 utmoft tranquility. It is charity hinders them from en- 
 tering into debates with the adverfaries of religion, which 
 might breed contention ; and they think it better religion 
 fhould come to nothing, than that they fhould diflurb 
 themfelves or others about it. It is prudence that fhuts 
 their mouths on the truth ; while falfhood freely bellows 
 from a thoufand throats, and is pofTeffed almofl of every 
 ear. But oppofition, fay they, would only oblige it to 
 raife its voice the higher. Yes, it is prudence makes 
 dumb dogs, as the prophet calls them, of all thefe fhep- 
 herds, and hinders them from barking when the wolf ap- 
 proaches : but then it is only the prudence and wifdom 
 of this world. They fee the flream of promotion and 
 worldly profperity running altogether in favour of the 
 loofefl principles -, they fee all manner of difcountenance 
 given to thofe who fhew any warmth in defence of true 
 religion ; infomuch that zeal, even in the loweft degree, 
 is become a crime, and the word itfelf begins to have an 
 ill found. They think it imprudent to launch out into 
 fuch a tide, where they may expert to be toffed and ruf- 
 fled ; and therefore they Jieep on, and take their reft. They 
 fay to themfelves, why fhould we be righteous over-mueh. 
 It is a folly to turn knight-errant for rehgion. Befides, 
 there is no danger. The principles canted up, by the 
 kindlers of this new light, are bad enough ; but nobody 
 will quit their old opinions for fuch novelties. There is, 
 therefore, no need of breaking our repofe with falfe alarms, 
 of keeping continually on the watch, of holding up the 
 Jhield ef faith in one hand, and the fword of God*s word 
 
 in 
 
(thrift' sCriiciJixion celebrated every Day, ^6j 
 
 in the other ; as if there were fome advcrfary near. As, 
 good Chriftians, we ought to be lovers of peace and quict- 
 nefs. The beginning of Jirife is as when one leiteth out 
 waters there is no knowing when it will flop. Where 
 Jirife is^ there is confufion i and it is far from the bufinefs 
 of a good Chriftian to raife confufion in the church. 
 Therefore we will e'en compofe ourfelves and keep quiet. 
 Tet a little Jleep, a little religious Jlumber, a little folding 
 of the hands to Jleep. Thus thefe worthy champions of 
 Chrifl:, having found that religion confilfs intirely in peace, 
 and that peace is nothing but inadion and floth, fettle on 
 the lees of their own lukewarm hearts, and fuffer Chrijli' 
 anity to be deftroyed, for the prefervation of Chriftian 
 charity. An abfurdity of the grolfefl nature ; yet fuch as 
 may pafs well enough in a dream, and on thofe who are 
 aOeep. 
 
 It was not lb that Judas, who betrayed our Saviour, 
 pafldd his time. He was watchful enough, and came with 
 his band of enemies to fet uponChrift, juft as his drowfy 
 friends were roufing, and rubbing their eyes. The latter 
 had taken but a fmall Ihare in the agonies of their ma- 
 fter, and now opened their eyes to fee how much more 
 vigilant he was who ferved the devil, than themfelves, 
 who were in the fervice of God. This is continually aft- 
 ed over and over again in the church. Thofe who be- 
 tray the religion of Chrift, like their father Judas, are al- 
 ways upon the watch, and come upon it by Jtealth, and 
 in the night •, when works of darknefs, and covert doings, 
 may be belt carried on. They bear its bag\ and, with 
 its profits, which they appropriate to themfelves, they mix 
 the wages of treachery. It is true, they fpeak highly of 
 our religion, and with fome little refpect of its Author ; 
 yet they do almcfl the whole work of the adverfary for 
 him, by endeavouring to refute the divinity of our Savi- 
 our, and the fatisfaftion made by his death. The confe- 
 quence of which is, that thofe who fee both fo ftrongly 
 and frequently alTerted in Scripture, looking however on 
 both to be abfurd and fenfelefs doflrines, they quickly lay 
 afide all refpedt for revelation. It is true, Chrifl might 
 have been feizedj and his religion may be attacked, by open 
 
 enemies 
 
^6 8 Chriji's Crucifixion celebrated every T)ay. 
 
 enemies only *, but the mofl expeditious and effecflual way, 
 in all fuch cafes, is that of treachery. Accordingly thofe, 
 who betray our religion, hail it with a thoufand enco- 
 miums ; they kifs it with a feeming affedion for it ; but 
 point it, at the fame time, to its enemies, whom they 
 lead forward to deflroy it. Where had the deift borrow- 
 ed his hints and materials, if the Socinian, the Avian, and 
 the preacher of new light, had not furnifhed him with 
 them ? How could any man have ftrode over the wide 
 gulph between Chriftianity and abfolute infidelity ? This 
 •was too great a ftretch at once ; but the builders, juft 
 now mentioned, have erected a very convenient bridge, 
 confifting of feveral arches, that reach from one fide to 
 the other. -Firft, the divinity of Chrift is to be difbe- 
 lieved ; then it is an eafy matter to deflroy the authority 
 of the Scriptures, in which that doftrine is fo copioufly 
 fet forth : After this, the eternal law of nature may, for 
 decency's fake, be adopted ; becaufe, as that is a law of 
 a man's own didtating, or, at leaft, explaining, it will 
 leave him at full liberty to do whatfoever his head, or 
 heart, or any other part of his nature, more corrupt, if 
 pofTible, prompts him to •, that is, it will leave him a 
 libertine and a deift. Thefe are the men, with Judas at 
 their head, againft whom the woe in my text is denounced, 
 Thefe are the perfons, who betray Chrifl's myftical hoiy^ 
 to a figurative crofs, erefled for it by the loofe and dia- 
 bolical fpirit of the times. Thefe are the men, who dip 
 in the dijh with Cbrijl, often taking the fatteft bit to them- 
 felves ; and, after getting all they can from him, with 
 bellies filled at his table, go out and fell him to his mofl 
 irreconcileable enemies. Had thefe men lived in the days 
 of our Saviour himfelf, they would have done that to his 
 perfon, which they now do to his church and religion ; 
 that is, they would have done what Judas did, and earn- 
 ed the wages of treachery then, as they now earn thofe 
 of difTimulation and infidelity. 
 
 Thofe of Chrifl's difciples, who loved him mofl, as 
 they were but men, being left to themfelves, and flruck 
 with the terror of prifons, trials, and crofTes, all forfook 
 him, and one of them forfwore him. It is thus he is de- 
 
 ferted 
 
Chrifi's Crucifixion celebrated every Day . 369 
 
 farted in thefe times, by the generality of his followers ;. 
 although all they have to fear, who would oppofe the 
 prefent prevailing herefies, and deceitful pradlices, of our 
 falfe teachers, is very inconfiderable. They might mifs 
 of promotion ; they might be out of the falhion •, they 
 might make themfelves enemies ; but fVill their perfons 
 and their fortunes would be fafe ; and therefore their fuf- 
 fering infidelity to triumph, without oppofition, is defert- 
 ing the caufe of Chrift, when they have little or nothing 
 to fear in its defence *, is facrificing their Mafter to flavirti 
 fears, and mere worldly views. 
 
 Thus is our blefled Mafter deferted by fome, betrayed 
 by others, and crucified afrefh on all occafions. There is 
 no need of one day in the year to commemorate his cru- 
 cifixion, fince our crying fins adt that tragedy over again, 
 and repeat it every day. If our lives and converfations 
 are of fuch a nature as to do the utmoft difhonour to our 
 profeffion ; if they only ferve to expofe religion to the 
 reproaches and infults of infidels ; if they put Chrift to 
 cpen Jhame before his enemies •, it muft then be owned wc 
 keep this anniverfary as Jews, and not as Chrift ians. 
 The Jews and Romans looked upon Chrift as a de- 
 ceiver, and therefore they crucified him. But we know 
 him to be the Son of God, and our Redemer, yec 
 do the fame. Thus we fill up the mecfure of their 
 iniquity. By their putting him to death, they fulfilled 
 the prophecies, and were unwillingly the inftruments 
 of redemption to mankind. But our treachery and 
 wickcdnefs, fo far as concerns ourfelves, defeat all the ends 
 of his coming, and give the lye to the prophecies, and 
 our own profefTions. He chofe the death he fuffcred at 
 Jerufalem ; and therefore power was given to his enemies 
 from above. But the death wc put him to is ucterly 
 againft his will, and againft the power of that Holy Spi- 
 rit given us from above, to prevent our a6ting fo unna- 
 tural a part. We are therefore rebels againft God, as well 
 as traitors to our Saviour, and deftroyers of ourfelves. 
 
 Let us not carry the crofs of Chrift only in order to 
 nail him to it again. Let us rather crucify our corruptions 
 aru3 fins. Let us faaifice the old man to him, who of- 
 
 VoL. II. B b fered 
 
3 "JO Chrtjl's Cnicijixion celebrated ei'ery Day. 
 
 fered tip himfelf for us. I.ct us put on the new man, and, 
 by a new life and converfation, try to adorn our profefTion, 
 to do honour to our infinite benefaflor, and add ftrength 
 to his body, by the acceflion of fo many found and whole- 
 fome members. If we really belong to Chrifl, and are 
 thankful for what he hath done and fufFered, let us no 
 more grieve his Holy Spirit, nor pierce his precious body 
 with our fins. Let one Judas, and one crucifixion, fuffice. 
 Let Jews, and Pagans, and Infidels of all forts, vilify his 
 chara6ler, and deride his fufFerings ; but let us, who call 
 ourfelves by his bleffed name, refute their cavils by our 
 virtues -, and fhew, that he hath been indeed a Saviour to 
 us, by delivering us from a finful life, from an accufing 
 confcience, and from a fearful death. Thus (hall we of- 
 fer the beft argument in the world for our religion, and 
 the moft ignorant profeffor of it may put to filence its 
 moft artful and fubril oppofers. 
 
 May God enable his word to produce thefe fruits in 
 our hearts -, and may he be gracioufly pleafed to accept 
 of them, through the merits of our blefled Saviour ; to 
 whom, with God the Father, and God the HoJy Ghoft, 
 be all glory, and honour, all might, majefty, dignity, 
 and dooiinion, now^ and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 DIS- 
 
[37' ] 
 
 DISCOURSE xxn, 
 
 The Cunning Man. 
 
 J 
 
 ERE MI AH, IX. 
 
 T^hey will deceive every one his Neighbour^ ahd will 
 not /peak the Truth. They have taught their 
 Tongue to J peak Lyes, a fid weary the mj elves to 
 commit Iniquity, 
 
 MAN owes it to God, as his mafter, to himfelf, as 
 a rational creature, fo to dire(^l, as far as in him 
 lies, the main fcope of his life, that, when he is fummon- 
 ed to appear before God, he may not find occaiion to re- 
 proach himfelf, at leaft, with a general negled of fuch 
 opportunities, as God hath beftowed on him, to anfwer 
 the true ends of living, and to promote his own real 
 happinefs. 
 
 Whether thefe two important purpofes may be beft an* 
 fwered by wifd&m or cunning, or whether cunning and de- 
 ceit may be allowed to have any (hare in fuch i work as 
 this, of which God is to be the judge, will be worth our while 
 to inquire. And that this inquiry may fet out on clear 
 and demonftrative grounds, it will be our bufmefs to be- 
 gin with ftating the true diftinftion between wifdom and 
 cunning, and between their effeds refpeclivcly. 
 
 £ b 2 There 
 
27 2 ^he Cunning Man. 
 
 There are but three things necefifary to make a wife 
 man. The firil is, a clear and certain knowlege of his 
 chief good, of the main end and happinefs for which his 
 nature was intended. If he neither knows in what his hap- 
 pinefs confifts, nor where it is placed, it is impoflible, let 
 his knowlege in other refpeds be what it will, that he 
 fhould fhape the courfe of his life, or aim his endeavours, 
 at an end worthy of a reafonable being. Should he take 
 his happinefs to confift in that which it docs not, he may 
 employ the whole force of the ftrongeft underftanding, 
 and the beft abilities, in the purfuit of his own mifery and 
 ruin •, at leaft he may lofe himfelf and his labour in falfe 
 appearances of good, or unhappily layout both on a good 
 fo inconfiderable, as to have no title to the main drift of 
 his endeavours. 
 
 The fecond thing neceffary to make a wife man, is a 
 clear of knowlege of the eafiefl and fureft means where- 
 by his true happinefs may be arrived at. If he knows not 
 this, the bare knowlege of his true happinefs will only 
 ferve to make him the more miferable. A juft title to a 
 great eftate is a moft vexatious misfortune to any man, if 
 he neither knows how to prove ir, nor to get into poffef- 
 fion. 
 
 The third thing neceffary to make a wife man, is 
 ftrength and refolution fteadily to employ the means, 
 without which, the important end he aims at cannot be 
 attained to. If he wants this, his knowing wherein his 
 happinefs confifts, and whereby it may be obtained, can 
 anfwer no other purpofe than to torment and afflict him. 
 He is like the cripple at the pool o( Belbefda^ who eagerly 
 defiring the ufe ot his limbs, and knowing his cure lay in 
 the water, could not however find means to get into the 
 "water, before it was too late. 
 
 The man, who knows not where his happinefs is placed, 
 cannot fo much as direA his face towards it. He who knows 
 ■ this, but is ignorant of the means, cannot even fet out on 
 a journey towards it, And although he knows both per- 
 fedly well; yet, it the road, through thefe means, jfhouJd 
 be long and difficult, or he lazy and irrefoiute, it were as 
 welJ, or better, for him to be wholly ignorant. 
 
 He, 
 
The Cunning Man-. 373 
 
 He who knows not what his true happlnefs confifts in, 
 is an ignorant man. He who neither knows it, nor will 
 fufFer himfclf to be taught it, is a fcupid and obflinate 
 inan. He who knows it, but prefers Ibmewhat elfe to it, 
 and aims the main of his endeavours at the attain- 
 ment of that fomewhat, is a fool. He who makes this 
 abfurd preference, and chiefly labours for the attainment 
 of fomething, in which his main happinefs does not really 
 confift ; nay, who, not content with erring thus funda- 
 mentally againft his own knowlege, purfues, as his chief 
 good, the inferior end he propofes, not by the fair and 
 natural means that lead to it, but by fliort cuts, and dif- 
 ingenuous arts, is a cunning man -, that is, not only a 
 fool, but a knave. 
 
 But ftill, more perfedly to conceive the nature of cun- 
 ning, it will be proper to take it in another light. Nothing 
 ferves fo clearly to diftinguifh it from true wifdom, as its 
 remarkable fhort-fightednels. Cunning, in the condudt of 
 our lives, confifts mainly in a rafh attachment to ends, and 
 a ready invention of means, without fufficient judgmenc 
 in the choice ; and, to finifh its charadler, it is always mif- 
 led by a wrong bias of the heart and affections, which 
 proves too ftrong for its judgment. Wifdom, on the 
 contrary, confifts in a judgment ftrong enough to lead the 
 heart, to choofe a right end, and to find proper means 
 for the accomplifhment of that end. Cunning can eafiiy 
 lay fuch a fcheme as fhall be fuccefsful in bringing abouc 
 a particular end, and fo far may affume the appearance 
 of wifdom. But if the end is foolifh,. and the means 
 dangerous, it proves itfelf to be only cunning. True 
 wifdom looking further, choofes fuch ends as are good, 
 and takes fuch meafures as prove fuccefsful, without run- 
 ning at the fame time blindly into fuch mifchiefs, as ali 
 the good, expe(5ted from the end propofed, is not fufiicient 
 to balance. The picking one's neighbour's pocket, or 
 otherwife tricking him out of his property, fhews cunning, 
 becaufe it argues dexterity and quicknefs of invention \ 
 but, as it may end in difgrace, or death, it argues but little 
 wifdom. He is but an ingenious fool, who fhews much 
 fubtilty in gaining a point, which prevents his carrying 
 
 B b 3 another 
 
574 *^^^ Cunning Man. 
 
 another point of much greater confequence to him ; and, 
 for the prefent, involves him in difficulties or dangers, 
 enough to outweigh the miftaken fatisfaclion he finds in 
 his immediate fuccefs. This man's fubcilty is but mere 
 folly, and his prolperity misfortune. Cunning may con- 
 ceitedly compliment itielf with the name and tide of wif- 
 dom ; but neverthelefs is To far from any real affinity with 
 it, that its very nature confirts in fhort-fightednefs, in want 
 of confideration and dlfcernment. The wife man might 
 fometimes ftoop to cunning and deceit, were it not for the 
 foundnefs of his judgment, and the uprightnefs of his 
 heart, which always direfl him to fchemes, whereof he 
 tan never have reafon to repent. And the cunning man 
 might rife at length to wifdom, were it not for the nar- 
 townefs of his undcrftanding, that confines his fchemes ^to 
 partial views j and for the corrupt difpofition of his 
 heart, which puts it out of his power to ufe the little un- 
 dcrftanding he hath. He propofes to himfelf a certain 
 end, fuch as the riches, the pomps, and pleafures of this 
 world, which, if obtained, he thinks would make him 
 happy. Here his folly fliews itfelf to be of the groffefl 
 kindj for if he knew any thing of himfelf, or the world, 
 he could never be fo widely miftaken. Befides, being 
 either ignorant of the right means to attain his end •, or, 
 through a depravity of heart, unwilling to employ them % 
 he hath recourfe to indirect and finifter means ; which, if 
 they fail him, he is difappointed in the very firft necefTary 
 ftep, on which his leading fcheme of happinefs depends : 
 but if they fucceed, and raife him to the wealth and grandeur 
 he at firft wifhed for, this at leaft they cannot do, with- 
 out giving him continual anxiety and remorfe, and put- 
 ting him to infinite pains. And, after all, he finds there 
 is no ftopping contented at the height he is raifed to ; 
 greater heights begin to tempt his avarice and ambition, 
 which are now habituated to a greater ftrength than ever, 
 and become inveterate. His purfuit is, in a manner, but 
 beginning, where he hoped it would end. What hath 
 pride profited hm ? Or what good hath riches with his 
 "jaunting brought him, if he is to be at the expence of 
 rew labours and anxieties, new villainies and oppreffions, 
 5 . new 
 
The Cunning Man. 37 f 
 
 new dangers and remorfes ? However, he goes on, and 
 profperity, we will fuppofe, attends him to the laft -, yet 
 here he is difappointed in the lall ftep of his fcheme ; for 
 he aimed at happincfs, and miffed it. He hath not got 
 enough \ he hath e.ther wanted health, or heart, or time, 
 at lead, to enjoy what he did get. He hath made a long 
 voyage through a tempeft of palTion and buftle. He is 
 fatigued, fpattered, broken; and though he may have 
 made a gainful trip of it for the fool or villain that fhall 
 come after him, yet he hath got nothing for himfelf. He 
 hath laid out his time, his talents, and his labours, in 
 fowing the wind, and reaping the whirlwind \ and death 
 gives the harvelt to be gathered in by others. 
 
 From what hath been faid it appears, that the chief 
 good, or grand happinefs of man, follows not the fuccefs 
 of worldly fchemes, nor lies in the road of cunning and 
 deceit. This being the cafe, it muft: be the bufinefs of 
 him, who would be wife, to feek elfewhere for his true 
 happinefs, to find out the proper means, by which it may 
 be arrived at, and then to fet himfelf, with all poffible 
 refolution and lleadinefs, to the purfuit and application of 
 thofe means. 
 
 In this moft important of all inquiries, in the attain- 
 ment of this branch of loiowlege, which alone is neceffary 
 to us, the Divine Wifdom leaves us not to our own blind- 
 nefs, but is itfelf our inftruflor. The holy fcripture3 
 teach us true wifdom, and fet before us the eternal enjoy* 
 merit of God, as our great and true happinefs ; they pro- 
 pofe piety, and honefty, and an holy life, as the only 
 means whereby it may be attained to ; and, that nothing 
 jnay be wanting to creatures of fo little ftrength and re- 
 folution, give us all the encouragement and affiftance 
 that are neceffary to a fuccefsful application of thefe 
 means. 
 
 Yet there are men fo blinded by their pafTions and pre- 
 judices, as to renounce both the end and the means. There 
 are others, who, although they receive both, yet unwit- 
 tingly fet other ends before this in their he-arts •, as appears 
 by the ruling bent of their thoughts and labours. But, 
 as if God had curfed their unworthy choice, purfue the 
 
 Bb 4 worldly 
 
37^ The Cimnlng Man. 
 
 wordly end they prefer, by fnch means, as either lead 
 them wide of that end, or at leaft of the happinefs they 
 hope for in that end. And what is ftill worfe, they mifs 
 of the great end fet before them by our Religion •, for that 
 is never to be accompUfhed, but when it is made the chief 
 end i whereas they make it only a fecoiKi or bye end. 
 Being thus difappointed at once of all their purpofes, they 
 find reafon, when it is too late, to blufh for, and bewail; 
 their unhappy folly. They have negleded God and Re- 
 ligion, to purfue, through their whole lives, the phantoms 
 of riches and grandeur, by low arts and bafe ftratagems ; 
 and now are taught, by the approach of death, what they 
 , would not earlier hear from Solomon^ that Jhamehthepromo- 
 t'lon of fools. They were taught, but would not follow, the 
 inifdom from above, which is pure^ without partiality, and 
 without hypocrify. No : they chofe to be dire(5l:ed by that 
 wifdom which cometh from beneath, which is earthly, fen- 
 fual, devilifh. 
 
 What a miflaken reproach were their neighbours guilty 
 of, in calling thefe men felfifh ! Surely they did not know 
 what felf was. And what is felf ? This, you will fay, can- 
 not be a queftion ; fince the whole world, with all its 
 "bufmefs and buftle, is taken up about it. Is it poffible 
 wc (hould not know what we drefs, cook, cheat, 
 trafRck, and, in a word, undertake all we do, and under- 
 -go all we fufFer, for ? Certainly it muft be our bodies ; 
 for, in thofe, all we are lb very anxious about plainly 
 terminates. No : it cannot be our bodies, for they are 
 never long the fame % and we lliall have felf, when w^ 
 fhall have no bodies. Hence it appears, that the drefler, 
 the drinker, and the riotous eater of fiefh, know nothing 
 of themfelves. Surely then felf muft be placed in the gra- 
 tifications of our paffions and affedions. By no means ; 
 for if it were, each of us fliould have a different fort of 
 felf, and a different kind of happinefs ; and, what is moft 
 furprifmg, fliould, in a great meafure, find himfelf with- 
 out him. The amorous would find himfelf in his mif- 
 trefs -, the ambitious, in applaufe ; the covetous, in riches. 
 Nay, as each pafiion of any particular man took its turn 
 to domineer over him, he pull vary himfelf. What then ? 
 
 Is 
 
Tfoe Cunning Man, ^jf 
 
 Is that rational creature, that wife being, man, ignorant of 
 that which he is toihng, and running in fcore with his con- 
 fcience for ? Is he not labouring for himfclt ? So far from it, 
 that the pocF blind wretch is ufing his utmcft endeavours to 
 undo himfelf, and hath no more than a mere apparition of 
 himlelf in view. What then is the true \t\^} It is the foul. 
 What! is that negleded unknown thing the true felf ? 
 Yes : and, although fo much defpifed, hath a title, v/hich 
 might eafily be made good, to an eternal infinite felf-in- 
 tereft. Good God ! how do we miftake the objedt of our 
 afFeftion and care ! the centre of all our intentions, aiflions, 
 enjoyments, fufferings, and interefts! furely we are be- 
 fide ourfelves. He who lyes, cheats, and deceives, for 
 his body and his paffions, is miferably deceived himfelf, 
 is the moft ftupid fort of bubble ; for he falls into a net 
 of his own fpreading, into a pit of his own digging. 
 
 He is not lefs grofsly deceived in another matter, of 
 equal importance to him. It may feem very ftrange, but 
 it is as true, that he knows no material difference between 
 a fhort fpace of time, and eternity ; as appears by hrs 
 making little or no provifTon but for the prefent. It is 
 phin however, that wifdom cannot confift in confulting 
 the happinefs of the prefent ; becaufe there is but one in- 
 ftant that can be called fo, which, before we can well pro- 
 vide for, pafles ; and another, which we have not pro- 
 vided for, advances into its place, and becomes prefent. 
 Time and opportunity move upon a rapid wing ; and 
 therefore they muft be fhot flying, by aiming our care 
 and concern at fome point confiderably before them, that 
 we may ftrike them in a point they are not yet arrived 
 at. The future, then, is what the wife man regards and 
 confults ; and he is the wifer the farther down into futurity 
 he extends his care. He who provides for to-morrow, is 
 wifer than him who only provides for to-day •, and both are 
 outdone in wifdom by him, who makes provifion for that 
 day, which will beto-morrow j when to-morrow m\\ be to- 
 day. This rule Itretches itfelf to weeks, months, years, ages, 
 and eternity. As eternity is to a day, fo is his wifdom who 
 provides for eternity, to his who provides only for to- 
 morrow. What a fool then is he, who, by unwortliy arts, 
 
 and 
 
^jS The Cunning Man. 
 
 and deceitful praccices, provides for to- morrow, at the 
 expence of eternity ! 
 
 Thtfe miftakes about time and eternity will be bcfl en- 
 forced by a ftory. A certain gentleman, whom for the 
 prefent, I will call Lnfcinus^ when he came of age, found 
 himfelf poflefs'd of a pretty eftate, yielding about a thou- 
 land pounds a year, and alfo of a parcel of ground adjoin- 
 ing, which confided of near two hundretl acres. But his 
 right in this latter was by a leafe for a term of years, of 
 which there were only twenty unexpired. A paffion for 
 improving came to him with his inheritance, and put him 
 immediately upon building and planting. Although his 
 own eftate afforded an hundred fine fituations, he pitched 
 on a very indifferent place in his leafe, becaufe it pleafed his 
 particular fancy j and there he built and planted, till he 
 had almoft run out his whole patrimony. All that can bs 
 laid for his prudence in this matter, is, that, having got a 
 cunning draitfman to forge him a leafe renewable forever, 
 of the lands on which he was improving, he talked every- 
 where of his undeterminable title j and even to the gentle- 
 man under whom he held, about renewing, upon the ex- 
 piration of one of his pretended lives. His landlord, obferv- 
 ing the progrefs he made in his improvements, did not, for 
 reafons that may be gueffed at, flatly difpute his title -, he 
 only put him off from time to time, with faying, that his 
 renewal was, for the prefent, a thing no way material, and 
 might be done any time. At length, the term of the real 
 Jeafc ran out, and a fuit at law being commenced, to try 
 the ftrength of the forged one ; one of Lufiinus\ wit- 
 neffes, whole hand had been procured by money, for 
 nioney difcovered the forgery. This outed Lufcinus both 
 of his improvements, which coft him almoft all he had, 
 and cf his reputation. What a fool was Lufcinus I faid his 
 Landlord, for running out an eftate, that was his and his 
 heirs for ever, on a tenure for twenty years ! and yet (caa 
 you believe it ?) he was, in another refpeft, a greater fool 
 than Lufcinus was in this ; for when he had an eternal te- 
 nure of happinefs in the next life, he ran it out to im- 
 prove his wealth, and promote his pleafure, in this, of 
 which he had only a temporary tenure i and this expiring 
 
 fooner 
 
^he Cunning Man. ^yg 
 
 fooner than he expefted, landed him a bankrupt in the 
 other world. 
 
 Did mankind confider, wherein their true felf-interefl: 
 confirts, or did they know how to balance an eternal, 
 againft a temporal intereft, we fhould have a much wif-r 
 and honefter world to deal with ; all forts of bufinefs would 
 not be clo^sed with fuch an endlefs train of tricks and 
 villainies ; public affairs might be carried on without jobbs, 
 faction, party, and opprefTion •, and the laws might have 
 their due courfe, without mifinterpretation or evafion, did 
 we take our great intereft to lie in another world, and to 
 be at the difpofal of an infinitely wife and juft Being. In- 
 ftead of grofsly prevaricating with each other, almoft in 
 every word, w^ Jhould fpeak every one truth with his 
 neighbour ; inftead of ungratefully forgetting the kind- 
 nefs, or bafeiy abufing the confidence, of a friend, we 
 (hould be a rock for the one to reft on, and a fruitful foil 
 for the other to fow in ; v/e fhould not flatter him to his 
 face, whom we rail at behind his back, did we believe 
 that God can fee and remember ; we fhould not fmile and 
 ftab ; we (hould not embrace like Joab, and kifs hke 
 Judns^ when in our hearts we carry only treachery and 
 murder. 
 
 Were eternity uppermoft in our thought?, we (hould 
 not fo often hear God called on to atteft a lye ; we (hould 
 not fo often fee men folemnly fubfcribing, and declaring, 
 for principles they difpute, preach, and write, againft, in 
 order facrilegioufly to feize on that wealth, which was be- 
 ftowed on the church, to promote the blelTcd caufe of 
 truth and honefty •, we (hould either hear of no contro- 
 verfies about religion, or, at leaft, (hould not have the 
 mortification to fee them carried on with fulfome cant, and 
 imprudent equivocations •, we (hould not fee one church 
 cruelly opprefTing, or bafeiy undermining, another ; as if 
 God could not fupport his own caufe, without truckling 
 to the devil for alTiftance. Will God finally profper a 
 religious party, that hath recourfe to deteftable hypocrify, 
 like that of Jeroboam, who, under the pretence of con- 
 veniency, introduced fchifm and idolatry ; or like that 
 of Herod f who a(ked the wife men, where Chrift v/as 
 
 bor.n. 
 
3 So ^h'e Cmining Man. 
 
 born, that he might go and worfnip him, when he v/anted 
 nothing elfe but an opportunity to deftroy him ? 
 
 It is a glorious charader of a man, that he hath a tongue 
 free from guile, and an heart filled with integrity. What 
 a defpicable wretch muft: that be, who cannot with fafety 
 be either believed or trufted ? If honefty is the beft, be- 
 caufe it is the eafiell, the fafeft, and the moft honourable, 
 policy ; deceic or chicane muft be the worft -, becaufe it can- 
 not be carried on without a world of cookery and manage- 
 ment ; becaufe, when all is done, it is ftill in danger of 
 being detected ; and becaufe, if it is, it renders the con- 
 triver of it infamous in the eyes of men, who was odious 
 in the eyes of God before. 
 
 The properties of deceit ought to make us deteft the 
 very notion of it, whenever we find it in others. The 
 firft properly, by which it diftinguifhes itfelf, is, that it 
 can never be employed with fuccefs, but for a wicked 
 purpofe. This demonllrates a dark and deep malignity, 
 fo riveted in its very nature, that to eternity it can never 
 be feparated from it, even in thought. Its next property 
 is folly, which alfo makes an eflential part of its nature ; 
 but of this enough already. Its third property is cowardice. 
 If a man had true refolution and bravery, he would never, 
 in the moft opprefllve diftrefs, ftoop to bafe arts for re- 
 lief; he would rather die a martyr to honefty. It is only 
 becaufe a man hath not the courage to look oppreflion or 
 adverfity in the iz,CQ., that he turns hisdaftardly mind to the 
 author of falfehood for prote6bion. The fourth property 
 of deceit is flaviftincfs. This we may expert to find, 
 where diffimulation and cowardice have laid a foundation 
 for it. A man confcious of deceit in himfelf, knows he 
 cannot fuccefsfully purfue fuch fchemes as his, if he is not 
 prepared to bear a great deal from others. And if he is 
 lenfible his falfehood is known to the world, he is then 
 forced to truckle, and take patiently the moft contemptu- 
 ous treatment that can be given him. As he hath no 
 honour, he cannot expecft to be ufed with any ceremony. 
 The humility of the beft Chriftian will not ftoop fo low, 
 as the fervility of a knave can do. The laft property of 
 deceit I fhall mentionj is flattery, A deceitful man ufes 
 
 this 
 
^he Cunning Man. 581 
 
 this for two purpofes ; in the firft place, to prevent the 
 harfhnefs, with which he fears to be handled ; and, in the 
 next, to wriggle himfelf into the hearts of fuch people 
 as he hath a defign on j whether his defign is fome (hrewd 
 trick he is fcheming againft themfelves, or that he intends 
 to make them his inftruments to impofe on others. He 
 hath always in readinefs a thoufand foothing things to 
 tickle your ears with ; and, if he takes you to be a cox- 
 comb, he will daub you with the grofleft praifes, face to 
 face, and lay on the fcurf fo thick, that it will be difficult 
 for you to fee you are but a man through it. And yet, 
 if you are a man, that is, if you are a rational creature,' 
 {o naufeous is the mefs he makes you fwallow, that the 
 ftomach of your vanity, if it is not very ftrong, will 
 hardly be able to keep it down. 
 
 If you do not already know this fort of villain, I will 
 tell you how to diftinguifh him by his pidurc. When he 
 hath a defign on you, he comes crouching, and bowing, 
 and fmiling ; but his fmiles leer a Utde towards cunning. 
 His eye, repreffed by confcioufnels, is turned downward. 
 He fcldom looks ftreight in your face. If his eye at any 
 time meets yours, it is fomewhat afide, while his face is 
 not dire(5lly towards you. When he begins to fpeak, he 
 beats round and round the bufh ; makes long preambles 
 to the bufinefs he is going to touch on ; feels how your 
 pull'e beats, by diftant hints ; and draws at length towards 
 the matter by the mod artful preparations •, working him- 
 felf into your heart by flattery, and into your judgment 
 by infinuation. Every thing about him is made to co- 
 operate with his tongue -, for, as Solomcn obferves, he wink- 
 €th with his eyesy he fpeaketh with his feet^ he teacheth 
 with his fingers. When you meet with a man that an- 
 fwers to tiiis (ketch, look to yourfelf. Though he humble 
 himfelf^ fays the Son of Sirachy and go crouching^ yet take 
 good heed and beware of him. Set him not by thee, lefi^ 
 when he hath overthrown thee, he fiand up in thy place. 
 Who will pity a charmer that is bitten with a fcrpent ? 
 For a while, he wiil abide with thee, but if thou begin to 
 fall^ he will not tarry. If adverfi.'y cane upon thee, thou 
 Jhalt find him there firfi j and though he pretend to help thee, 
 
 yei 
 
3^2 The Cunnt77g Man, 
 
 yet pall he undermine thee. He will Jhake his heady 
 and clap his hands, and whifper much, and chavge his 
 £ountena7ice. 
 
 There is another kind of difiembler, in comparifon of 
 whom, he I have been fpcaking of, is a mere Nathaniel^ 
 without guile ; I mean him, who conceals a confciencc 
 that fticks at nothing, under the difguife of an open coun- 
 tenance, a frank air and addrefs, with fometimes even a 
 dafh of bluntnefs or fimphcity. This impoftor is too 
 refined to be found out by any thing, but repeated trials ; 
 and therefore is the moft dangerous of all deceivers. As 
 he can give himfeif an appearance fo contrary to his real 
 nature, fo he can give a^ (hew of plaufibility, if not offtrift 
 honefty, to the vileft defgns. You can hardly be fo co- 
 vetous, but he will choufe you -, hardly fo wife, but he will 
 over-reach you ; and hardly fo honeft, but he will make 
 you his inftrument in doing mifchief. If you have not a 
 keen penetration, and a moft delicate fenfe of honour, it 
 will be a grofs piece of knavery indeed, that he will not, 
 by fome means or other, and in fome meafure, make you 
 a party to •, efpecially if he ferves the facTtion you affeft, 
 and may merit his intereft for you another time. If you 
 give ground, he clenches you over a bottle; you get 
 drunk together ; and then you are an honeft man, he is 
 an honeft man ; you are ftaunch friends, and the jobb you 
 are joined in, is a very honeft worthy piece of work. 
 During your familiarity with fo open a man, you cannot 
 help being open too ; by which means he will worm 
 himfelf into your fecrets, and then you are his flave. But 
 you will find he is at liberty -, for although you fliould 
 have helped to get him a church or a bridge to build, or 
 fome other profitable piece of public work -, or even, al- 
 though you fhoujd, v^ith a puking confcience, have done 
 his jobb for him on either jury, he will fell you and your 
 fecrets to your advcrfary, as foon gs he can find his account 
 in betraying you. 
 
 Would to God I could fo fpeak of this infernal vice, as 
 to make it thoroughly odious to fuch as do not yet fuf- 
 ficiently abhor it in themfelves ! Where fliall I get a co- 
 lour, deep, dark, and vik enough, to daub its filthy 
 
 pidlure ? 
 
The Cunning Man. 385 
 
 pi(fture ? If I compare it witli other vices, they appear 
 almolt virtues befide it. Contentioufnefs hath a falfc 
 bravery, incontinence a falfe gallantry, drunkcnnefs a 
 Ihew of good humour and generofity, to boaft of. De- 
 traction may cover itfelf under the appearance of abhor- 
 rence for the vices of mankind \ but cannot do this, till 
 deceit helps it on with its cloak. As for pride, oppreflion, 
 and cruelty, they carry with them a certain frightful air, 
 yet they look fomewhat grand and lordly. But deceit is 
 the property only of the lowefl: and the moft abjedb foul. 
 It cannot fubfifl, but in the dark, nor effeft its fcandalous 
 purpofes, but by means the moft bafe and fliameful. As 
 it is a maxim, that the corruption of that which is beft in 
 itfelf, is the woril of all corruptions -, fo deceit, which is the 
 very debauchery of fenfeand undcrftanding is the worfb fort 
 of depravation. It is the nobleft faculty of the loul, the in- 
 Jet of faith and grace, the feature, that gives humanity a re- 
 femblance of God, degenerated into cunning ; that vile in- 
 ftrument of fin, that monftrous diftortion of reafon, that 
 deteftable, that horrible image of the grand dececeiver. 
 
 Deceit then is the moft defpicable and odious turn of 
 mind, that ever difgraced the nature of man. If the other 
 vices (for it enters deeply into them all but one or two) 
 were to pay it back the deformity they borrow from it, 
 they would ceafe to be fo abominable as they are, and 
 many of them would dwindle down to mere infirmities* 
 How comes it then to pafs, that no vice fhould be fo com- 
 mon. How lliall we account for it, that deceit (hould 
 be the moft univerfally detefted, and yet the moft uni- 
 verfally pradtifed, of all vices ? The true anfwer is, ava- 
 rice, ambition, luft, the reigning vices of the age, cannot 
 be conceived, cannot be born, cannot be brought to 
 maturity, or execution, without it. Thefe other vices can 
 never want an inftrument to work with, a cloak to hide 
 in, nor a devil to encourage them, while they have de- 
 ceit to fuccour them. 
 
 Hence it is, that this vice, though fo odious in itfelf, 
 is not hated, though fo defpicable, is not defpifed, as it 
 ought to be ", but, from being often pradifed, comes to 
 be countenanced; and, from being countenanced, to be 
 
 encx)U raged 
 
•^^4 ^^-'^ Ctmm72g Men. 
 
 encouraged and abetted. The greateft perfons among us, 
 are not aftiamed to take a known villain by the hand j al* 
 though they are fenfible, that in fo doing, they give a 
 vogue to that vice, which, of all others, they ought, as 
 Chriftians, as honefl men, as gentlemen, to be afhamed 
 to encourage. People indeed will rail at the trickfter, and 
 rnake fporc with his character ; but this is all : for, in the 
 commerce of the world, his falfehood is fo much needed 
 by one, makes him fo like another, and his flattery goes 
 down ^ fweetly with all, that he meets with furprifing 
 toleration. That villain muft: be of the deepeftdye, and 
 carry the moft glaring brand in his forehead, who cannot 
 make a fhift to pafs mufter pretty well in fuch an age 
 and country as this. Wliat is the world but a ftage, where 
 we rarely meet v/ith one, who wears his own face or garb, 
 or is what he appears to be .'' This indeed might make a 
 mere farce of life, were it not that the plots are ferious, 
 and the cheats real •, and that there are too many deep and 
 melancholy fcenes interwoven with the reft ; infomuch that, 
 were a man only to look on, he would find realbn to weep 
 with the one philofopher, as well as laugh with the other.. 
 It is here, as on other ftagcs, that if we meet with a man 
 who wears no mafli nor difguife, he is generally fome one 
 of thofe low creatures, who (hares not in the plot, and what 
 pafles, but only makes his appearance to fweep the ftage, 
 or fnufF the candles. 
 
 There are fome, who allow themfelves the ufe of cun- 
 ning and deceit, becaufe they fee the like in Rebeccay 
 Jacob, and fome other perfons of high reputation in 
 Scripture. But is every ad:ion applauded, that is not re- 
 proved, in hiftory ? Or, if a good man fhall blemifh an 
 upright life with one or two ill aftions, fhall another extort 
 a licence from thence to pradife the like himfelf all his 
 days? 
 
 , Others think, becauie God commanded the Ifraelitesto 
 fpoil the Egyptians^ and feize the land of Canaan, they 
 may, with mTpunity, by fraud or oppreffion, fleece all 
 they deal with. But can they produce the grant, by 
 which God the Proprietor of all things, hath made over to 
 tiitm the property in other people's goods ? Are they all 
 
 Jfraeiites f 
 
The Qmfitng Man, 38^ 
 
 Ifraelitesf Or are all the reft of the world Egyptians^ and 
 Canaanites P 
 
 A third fort, obfcrving how St. Paul delivered himfelf 
 from perfecution, by raifing a diflention among his ene- 
 mies, upon declaring himfeif a Pharifee, and nodng the 
 life of fuch ftratagems on fome other occafions, take this 
 for a fufficient warrant, to ufe the bafeft arts for the vileft 
 purpofes. But did not St. Paul tell the truth, when he 
 called himfeif a Pharifee ? And did he fay it for any other 
 purpofe, but to relieve an innocent man from perfecution 
 and cruelty ? If St. Paul was, on this occafion, as wife as 
 a ferpent, was he not alio as harmlefs as a dove ? Will this 
 juftily the man, who imitates the ferpent in things de- 
 tefted by the dove ? It was in this manner that the devil 
 tempted our Saviour with Scripture. He who hath found 
 the way to tempt himfeif by the word of God, needs no 
 devil to teach him diffimulation. 
 
 A man inclinable to deceive thofe he deals with, would 
 willingly deceive himfeif into an opinion, that, if God 
 cannot approve of, he will at leaft wink at, the ufe of cun- 
 ning. But he fhould confider, that as God neither will 
 deceive, nor can be deceived, lb he will not fuffer himfeif 
 to be ferved with deceit. If he did, the devil mJght be 
 his beft fervant ftill. But the cafe is quite other wife ; for 
 God exprefsly forbids us to go beyond^ or defraud^ one ano- 
 ther ; he requires, that we fhould dojujiice, and ferve him 
 infpirii, and in truth. He that would pleafe God, muft 
 ferve him according to the fcheme and principles by which 
 he propofes to govern the world ; for fuch as the maOier 
 is, fuch muft be the fervant. Now God, in the govern- 
 ment of the world, hath appointed certain ends, to which 
 he would have us dired ourfelves, on all occafions ; and 
 certain means, by which he would have us purflie thofe 
 ends. Of all thofe ends, there is not one that is not purelv 
 good. Of all thofe means, there is not one that is not 
 ftriftly juft and honeft. Of thofe only will he approve ; 
 thofe only will he blefs ; for the judge of all the earth 'uoill 
 not only do right himfeif, but fee that it be done by his 
 fubjedts; and if they vvill prefume to do otherwife, venge- 
 ance is his, and he will repay. 
 
 Vol. II. C c The 
 
386 ^he Cunning Man. 
 
 The grand and final end he fets before us, Is our owrj 
 eternal happinefs. The only means of arriving at this end, 
 ^re piety, honefty, and an holy life. To propofe any other 
 end, inconfirtent with this, as the chief end ; or to depend 
 on any other means, of a contrary nature to thofc, as 
 pointing out a fiiorter or eafier way, is grofs folly, is hor- 
 rible prefumption, and muft end in eternal ruin. 
 
 Can deceit be a means of happinefs ? Surely if it is, 
 there is no God, or he is not good. But if there is a 
 righteous judge, who fees all we think, fpeak, or do, what 
 terms can that man expesfi from him, who keeps his fair 
 fide for the eyes of men, and that which is foul and de- 
 teftable for the Searcher of hearts ; who, having two 
 faces, one refcmbling a Chriftian, and the other refembling 
 the devil, turns his Chriflian face to men, that he may de- 
 ceive them, and his diabolical to God, that he may infult 
 him ? Is he flupid enough, with all his long reach of fub- 
 tilty and cunning, to fchem.e his happinefs on a plan like 
 this? If he trufts to fo wild a thought, let the word of 
 God undeceive him. 
 
 The t7'himphing of the wicked, faith Zophar, is Jhort^ 
 end the joy of an hypocrite but for a moment. Though his 
 excellency mount up to the heaven^ and his head reach un- 
 to the clouds ; yet he (hall perifh for ever, like his own dung : 
 they which have feen htm, jjyall fay. Where is he ? He 
 f) all fly away as a dream, and fhall not he found: Tea, he 
 faail he chafed away as a vifton of the night. He hath 
 fwallowed down riches, and fhall vomit them up again. 
 That which he laboured for, fhall he reft ore, and fhall not 
 fwallow it down : according to his fubfiance, fhall the re- 
 Jiitutionbe. In the fulnefs of his fufficiency, he fhall he in 
 ftraits : every hand of the wicked fhall come upon him^ 
 While he is about to fill his belly, God fJjall cafi the fury 
 of his wrath upon him, and fhall rain it upon him while he 
 is eating. The heaven fhall reveal his iniquity, and the 
 earth ftjall rife tip againfi him. What is the hope of the 
 hypocrite, faith Job, though he hath gained? Will God 
 hear his cry, when trouble comet h upon him? If his chil- 
 dren be multiplied, it is for the fword ; and his offspring 
 fkall not be fatisfied with bread. Thofe that remain of him 
 
 floall 
 
^he Cunning Alan. 387 
 
 fi)all he buried in deaths and his widow fljoll not weep. 
 Though he heap up ftlver as the dufi^ and prepare raiment 
 as the day, he may prepare it, hut the jujl Jh all put it on^ 
 and the innocent Jhall divide the ftlver. And what is the 
 hope of the hypocrite, when God taketh away his foul? 
 He Jhall lie down, hut he Jhall not be gathered. Terrors 
 take hold of him as waters ; a tempeji Jlealeth him away 
 in the night. For Godjliall cajl upon him, and not fpare : 
 he would fain flee out of his hand. Men Jhall clap their 
 hands at him, and Jhall hifs him: out of his place. Dread- 
 ful fentence ! 
 
 BlefTed Lord, be gracioufly pleafed, by the afliftance of 
 thy Holy Spirit, fo to purify and turn our hearts, that, 
 when we fhall ftand before thee in judgment, thou mayefl 
 impute no iniquity to us, nor find in our fpirits any guile. 
 Grant this, we befeech thee, for the fake of Chrift Jefus 
 our Saviour ; to whom, with God the Father, and God 
 the Holy Ghoft, be all might, majefty, dignity, and do- 
 minion, now and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 Cc 2 D I S- 
 
[388] 
 
 DISCOURSE XXIII. 
 
 The Gofj.!)el proved to the Unlearned. 
 
 St. Matthew xi. 5. 
 ^he Pcor have the Go/pel preached to them. 
 
 If/IIen John the baptiji, who was then in prifon^ had 
 '' heard the works of Chriji^ he fent two of his difcipleSy 
 and f aid unto him^ Art thou he that Jhould come, or do we 
 look for another F In anfwer to this, our Saviour does not 
 bear witnefs of himfelf, but fays, Go and fjjew John again 
 thofe things which ye do hear and fee : The blind receive 
 their fight, and the poor have the Gofpel preached to them. 
 Here he appeals to the works which his Father had given 
 him tofinifh, to thofe very works, which the prophets had 
 foretold he fiiould do, and had by that means made them 
 the fure marks and figns of his miflion. And what could 
 be fo fure a fign and proof of its Divinity, as miracles 
 wrought to fulfil prophecies delivered many ages before ? 
 Miracles alone had been a fufficient atteftation to the ra- 
 tional and candid; but prophecies fo old, promifing mi- 
 racles, which are the moft unlikely events, nay, fpecifying 
 the particular kind of miracles, and clearly fulfilled in the 
 open aftual performance of thofe very miracles, give a 
 proof fufficient, one would think, to convince the mofl un- 
 believing minds. Concerning this work, in particular, of 
 
 preaching 
 
^he Gofpel proved to the Unlearned, 3 89 
 
 ■preaching the Gofpel to the poor, Ifaiah had prophefied ia 
 two places. In the Ixi. chapter he introduces Chrift thus 
 fpeaking, J'he Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, becanfs 
 the Lord bath appointed me to preach good tidings (ox the 
 Golpel) to the meek. He hath fent me to hind up the broken- 
 hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening 
 of the prifon to them that are bound. Again, in the ix. 
 chapter, fpeaking of the wifdom Chrift (hould beftow on 
 the ignorant, he fays, The people that walked in darknefs 
 have feen a great light, They that dwell in the land of the 
 padow of death, upon them hath the light JJnned. 
 
 That we may perceive this to be a very diftinguifliing 
 mark of our Saviour's mifTion, we muft confider, that, at 
 his coming, the rich and the great ones of the world had 
 engrofifed to themfelves almoft all the philofophy and di- 
 vinity then in vogue ; that they were extremely vain of 
 their learning, becaufe it diftinguiflied them from the vul- 
 gar ; and that they generally made a fecret of it, and kept 
 it to themfelves. The philofophers taught for hire the 
 children of the wealthy. The priefts of the heathen gods 
 taught nothing ; and thofe of them that probably knew 
 moft of true religion, fuch as the Egyptian, the SamO' 
 thracian, and the Athenian priefts, made a profound 
 myftery of what they knew, and would not difcover their 
 rights and principles, but upon the moft dreadful oaths of 
 fecrecy. 
 
 Matters were not on a much better footing among the 
 Jews. The fchools of the rabbles were open only to fuch 
 as could afford to give themfelves fomewhat of human 
 learning before they entered, and were able afterwards to 
 reward them for their inftruftions •, and, what was worfe, 
 both here, and in the fynagogues, where they read the 
 Scriptures to the people, they thruft in between the light 
 of God's word, and the underftanding of their hearers, 
 the dark cloud of their own fanciful and fuperftitious re- 
 finements, and made the commandments of God of none 
 effe^, by teaching for doctrines the traditions of men. 
 
 When things were at this pafs, our Saviour began to 
 preach the Gofpel, that is, the faving knowlege of the 
 true God, and the true religion, with fuch a Smplicity 
 
 C c 3 and 
 
^90 'T^^ Gofpel proved to the Unlearned. 
 
 and plainnefs, as made it intelligible, and with fuch power, 
 in parables, and pithy fayings, as made it afFefting to the 
 minds of the moft ignorant. That they underftood with 
 their minds the truth, and felt in their hearts the force of 
 what he preached, is plain, from the greatnefs of his fuc- 
 cefs, and from the tertimony they gave him, that Tiever 
 wan /pake as he /pake, and that he had the words of eternal 
 life. 
 
 To all this it is objefled by libertines, that perfons fo 
 ignorant could not be proper judges of what he taught 
 them, had not. fkill to weigh the force of his arguments, 
 nor fenfe and tafte to diftinguifh between what was ex- 
 cellent, or contemptible, in his difcourfes ; and that, what- 
 ever the common people might have done in thofe days, 
 they cannot in thefe have a rational convidlion, that Chri- 
 ilianity is a Divine Revelation, becaufe they cannot 
 learnedly trace its authorities, nor y/eigh the arguments 
 for or againft the purity of the Scriptures. 
 
 The firft part of this objeftion is eafily anfwered. The 
 difciples of our Saviour, it is true, were, moft of them, 
 ignorant men ; but they could fee and hear, and had com- 
 mon fenfe, as well as other men. As they had the ufe of 
 their eyes and ears, they could read or hear the prophecies 
 concerning Chrift, and could perceive his miracles ; and, 
 as they had common fenfe, they could be judges of the 
 agreement, or difagreement, between fuch prophecies and 
 miracles. Their common fenfe taught them alfo how to 
 reafon juftly on his miracles, independently of their pro- 
 phecies, and rightly to conclude, that He who did fuch 
 ihings was from God. Could the beft difputant at the bar, 
 or elfewhere, reafon better, than the poor man, who, 
 having been born blind, was miraculouCly blefled by our 
 Saviour with the perfed: ufe of his eyes. The very 
 learned Pharifees were ftupid enough to blame our Sa- 
 viour for working this gracious miracle on the fabbath day. 
 And the Jews^ having found the man, and, pretending to 
 great piety, faid, Give God the praife \ we know^ that this 
 man is a finner : JVe know that God fpake unto Mofes : 
 Ms for this fellow^ we know not whence he is. The man 
 anfwered, Why^ herein is a miraculous thing, that ye know 
 5 " ^^* 
 
The Gofpel proved to ihe XJ ilearjied. 591 
 
 fiot from whence he is^ and yet he hath opened mine eyes. 
 Now we know that God heareth not finners ; but if any 
 man he a worjhiper of God^ and doth his wilU him he hear- 
 eth. Since the world began it was not heard^ that any man 
 opened the eyes of the blind. If a man were not of God, 
 he could do nothing. Thus realbned all the difciples of our 
 Saviour •, and who could have realbned better ? It was an 
 honour to Rabbi Gamaliel^ that, of all the learned Jewifh 
 council, he alone was able to reafon half as well. Their 
 common fenfe alfo was fufficient to let them into the mean- 
 ing of arguments fo glaringly ilrong, and dodrines fo 
 clear and plain, as thofe with which their Mafter enter- 
 tained them. Befides, howfoever ignorant they were, 
 when they firfl gave ear to his inftruflions, it was far 
 otherwife with them by the time he Xzh them ; for it was 
 his cuftom to clear up all their miftakes, and fully to ex- 
 plain to them the darker parts of his difcourfes. As to 
 their tafte, it was not indeed fitted to the flowers of rhe- 
 toric, nor had they any occafion for fuch a tafte \ their 
 Mafter neither deigning to deal in fuch tinfel, nor ufing 
 art, like one who intends to impofe on his hearers ; but, 
 as they were plain men, they had an excellent tafte for 
 plain fenfe and found reafon \' nay, and even for that di- 
 vine oratory which ftione in the parables, and other parts 
 of their Mafter*s difcourfes, by which he propofed to 
 ftrike their imaginations, and warm their hearts. 
 
 The latter part of this libertine objeftion ftrikes at the 
 prefent times ; and would perfuade us, that the unlearned 
 part of the world cannot, in thefe later ages, rationally be- 
 lieve in Chrift. This concerns us more than the former, 
 and therefore I purpofe to lay out the remaining part of 
 this difcourfe in fhev/ing, by a few arguments, out of nhany 
 that might be employed to the fame end, that the igno- 
 rant part of the world ftill have fufficient reafons for em- 
 bracing the Chriftian religion, that is, that the poor fill 
 have the Gofpel preached to them with arguments and mo- 
 tives ftrong enough for their convidlion and reformation, 
 if they will attend to them. 
 
 The moft ignorant man, if he thinks at all on the fub- 
 jed, muft be fatisfied, that, without religion and the fear 
 
 C c 4 of 
 
35)2 T^be G of pel pro'ved to the Unlearned. 
 
 of God, no man can be brought to live a good life ; and 
 that, without living a good life, no man can be happy. 
 
 Upon refleflion he will alfo perceive, that the laws of 
 men are of no ufe nor force, if not backed by the laws 
 of God ; that magillrates will be unjuft and oppreflive, 
 and lubjefts rebellious and ungovernable, if they are not 
 religious ; that no evidence can be had without oaths, nor 
 oaths without religion •, and confequently that fociety, out 
 of which mankind cannot fubfift, cannot itfelf fubfift with- 
 out religion. 
 
 Having proceeded fo far, it is eafy for him to fee, that, 
 neceflary as religion is to every Tingle mortal in particular, 
 and to civil government in general, men cannot have the 
 true religion, if they be not taught of God. This he muft 
 conclude, as foon as ever he confiders the atheifm into 
 which many philofophers, the fuperftition into which all 
 the reft, and the horribly wicked and diabolical principles 
 of religion into which all the barbarous nations of the 
 world have ran, and ftill do run, for want of Divine Re- 
 velation, 
 
 And further, when he confiders, that he, and all other 
 men, have provoked the difpleafure of God, by many and 
 grofs offences ; that a bare repentance, which can only 
 make a man obedient for the time to come, whereas God 
 hath a right to the obedience of his whole life, cannoc 
 atone for paft fins ; that the prayers of other men, who 
 are unworthy to be heard for themfelves, and the facrifice 
 of beafts, of his children, of all he hath, are ftill lefs ca- 
 pable of making fuch atonement, or appeafing the juft; 
 anger of God at his fins ; when, I fay, he confiders thefe 
 things with due attention, he muft be under very fen* 
 iible, and very dreadful apprehenfions about the fafety of 
 his foul, and therefore earneftly defirous to find out, whe- 
 ther God hath, in reality, provided any other more rational 
 terms of forgivenefs, or more efficacious facrifices for fin, 
 whereby he may be aflured of pardon on repentance. 
 
 With fuch a foundation laid, common fenfe will put 
 him on inquiring, whether God hath at any time given to 
 mankind fuch a religion as anfwers his wants. And he 
 Will be the more apt to do this, when he refieds, that hq. 
 
 was 
 
The Go/pel proved to the Vnkdrncd. 393 
 was made by that infinitely beneficent Being, who cannot 
 but will the virtue and happincfs of his creature ; and that 
 in all nations fome kind of atonement, or commutation 
 for fin, hath been offered up, as that for which forgive- 
 nefs was exptded by the offender ; which fhews, that 
 either the notion of an atonement is natural, or that it is 
 derived from a revelation made to the common parent of 
 mankind. 
 
 . In order to fatisfy this inquiry, he will be naturally led 
 to look a little into the feveral kinds of religion, to which 
 the various parts of the world may be addided in his own 
 times. Now, if he does this with never fo httle care and 
 candour, it is an affront to common fenfe, to think him 
 capable of preferring any other religion to the Chriftian ; 
 or of not perceiving that this religion fully anfwers all the 
 characters, and is qualified to bring about all the good 
 purpofes, he expeds from the true religion. If fuch a 
 man fairly confiders the ftupid folly, and the grofs wicked- 
 nefs, to which all other religions tempt their profefTors, 
 and in this light compares them with Chriftianity, he will 
 be forced to give the preference to the latter, in which 
 every thing is done to regulate both the judgment and the 
 will •, whereas, in other religions, the firft is uninftrufted, 
 or mifinformed, and the laft dire6tly tempted to vice and 
 wickednefs. Mahometifm makes the gratification of luft 
 to be the reward of piety : And Paganifm, propofing 
 adulterers and murderers for Gods, adlually prefcribes the 
 pradice of thofe vices, to which their falfe divinities were 
 addided, as ads of worfhip, whereby their favour is to 
 be obtained, or their difpleafure averted. Although my 
 fubjed requires it, time will not fuffer me to wade farther 
 into this fink. Permit me therefore, in order to give this 
 argument that fhare of its weight, which may fuflice for 
 the prefent purpofe, to pafs by other religions with this 
 fliort cenfure fo juftly due to them, that I may, in as few 
 words as I can, fhew what the benefits, arifing from Chri- 
 ftianity in this life only, would be, were the judgments of 
 jnankind thoroughly poffeffed with the belief of it, as a 
 divine truth, and their hearts warmly attached to it, as the 
 ^eft rule of adion. 
 
 It 
 
594 ^^^ Go/pel proved to the Vnlearned. 
 
 It is a weak refledion, and made by very injudicious 
 people, that, although Chriftianity tends diredly to make 
 us happy in a future life, yet the feverity of its precepts, 
 and its mortifications, do not promife happinefs here, 
 but, on the contrary, make a real Chriftian fad, gloomy, 
 and melancholy. 
 
 They fay further, that it hath an ill effe6b on civil fo- 
 ciety j inafmuch as it prefcribes humility and contempt of 
 the world, to the utter extinftion of all that laudable am- 
 bition, which prompts a nation to ftrengthen and extend its 
 power ; and lays down fuch rules of adion, under the no- 
 tion of honefty, as, if followed, would ruin all policy, and 
 make it impoITible to manage or preferve any political 
 community. 
 
 They own, thaf, in fpeculation, our religion feems to 
 promife great advantages to the ftate, but deny that in 
 faft its laws can be politically reduced to pradice, without 
 great detriment to the community ; the management 
 whereof requires, fay they, a much greater latitude, than 
 the Gofpel will allow of. They infift, moreover, that the 
 fafety of a nation can be no otherwife fecured, than by a 
 perpetual endeavour to inlarge its territories, and augment 
 its power ; which, without a degree of political avarice 
 and ambition, by no means countenanced by Chriftianity, 
 is impofTible. 
 
 Should we grant all dils, it would not be a fufficient 
 objeftion to Chriftianity -, for, although all the miferies of 
 this life v/ere to be the portion of a true Chriftian ; and 
 although, to be fuch, wefhould be obliged to' renounce all 
 fociety with mankind, we Ihould have infinite reafon to 
 embrace the terms, if the eternal joys of heaven were to be 
 fo pur chafed. 
 
 But nothing can be more groundlefs than the refleftion 
 in all its parts •, for nothing can be more true, than what 
 our Saviour faid, Godlinefs is frofitable unto all things^ 
 having the promife of the life that now is, and of that 
 which is to come. Godlinefs itjelf is great riches^ and 
 brings with it even the wealth of this world. For the hlef- 
 fing of the Lordt fays Solomon^ maketh rich, and he bleffeth 
 the habitation cf the jiifi. 'There fhall no evil happen to 
 
 the 
 
The Gofpel proved to the Unlearned. 39^ 
 
 the jiiji. Whatfoever he doth it Jhall pro/per, for God 
 bath pleafure in the profperity of his fervant. Solomon^ 
 rpeaking of the true wildom, or the true religion, fays. 
 Length of days are in her right-hand ; and in her left-hand 
 riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleafantnefs^ 
 and all her paths are peace. 
 
 But, as we are fpeaking to one who is ignorant, and 
 not yet fully converted to Chriftianity, let us endeavour 
 to fliew him that reafon fpeaks the fame thing. 
 
 And firft, as to particular perfons, the moft ignorant 
 man may know, that whoever hath, with all his loul and 
 heart, embraced Chriftianity, mufl deny all his flejhly and 
 worldly luffs ; mAift be pure from all corruption of nature 
 and habit \ muft be free from difturbance of unruly paf- 
 fions -, muft by no means injure another ; and muft in- 
 tirely forgive, if he is injured by any •, muft love his 
 neighbour as himfelf \ and love God with all his hearty and 
 with all his foul^ and with all his Jirength. 
 
 Now, although it may coft a man no fmall ftruggle to 
 bring himfelf to fuch a frame of mind ; yet, with the af- 
 fiftance which God will not fail to lend him, it may, and, 
 if it is not his own fault, it muft be done •, and, when it 
 is done, he is at the height of human happinefs. He 
 hath no violent palTion within to diftra6l him, no guilt of 
 confcience to wring him. He knows his virtue and hap- 
 pinefs, with due vigilance, are for ever fecured to him. 
 And from without, nothing can happen to him, that will 
 much afflict him. The world is little in his eyes, and 
 the things of it do not much concern him. AH that live 
 near him are happy in his neighbourhood, for he watches 
 for all occafions of doing good. He hath peace with all j 
 he is beloved by all. Were the country he lives in peo- 
 pled with fuch men as he, it would be the paradife of the 
 world. He is temperate in all things, and therefore 
 healthful. He is innocent, and therefore chearful ; and, 
 having health and chearfulnefs, he bids fair for a long life. 
 In the opinion of the heathen fages, this man muft be 
 happy. IF, as the Roman fatyrift fays, Happinefs conftjls 
 in foundnefs of mind and body, he muft be happy. If, as 
 Jamblichus fays. He is happieji who is lik0 God:, fimple, 
 
 pure^ 
 
'^g6 ^be Go] pel proved to the Unlearned. 
 
 ■pure-, and detached from the world, this mufl be the hap- 
 pieft of all men. If, as Solon and Jntijlhenes fay, they 
 are happy who die well, this man muft be happy. To 
 conclude, his happinefs hath that admirable teflimony of 
 St. Jugiijiin, who fays, " That is not true happinefs, 
 *' which will not be eternal. He is happy who hath all 
 " he wifhes, and who wifhes nothing but what is fit and 
 *' good for him. O that God would give us the mind 
 " and condition of this man, and leave crowns and fceptres 
 *' to thofe that can feize them !" 
 
 As the precepts of Chrillianity, if obferved, would thus 
 exalt a man into an angel, fo its motives are as powerful, 
 as its dodrines are pure. What are the temptations of a 
 trifling world, if weighed in the balance of a found 
 judgment, againfl temporal and eternal glory, which the 
 good Chriftian is fure to obtain ; and againft temporal and 
 eternal difgrace, which the wicked man can by no means 
 efcape ? Who can doubt a moment, whether he fhould 
 moft love God, or the world ? What is the value, what is 
 the beauty, the dignity, and excellence of the creature, if 
 compared with thofe of the Creator ? And as to this world, 
 did not God make it ^ Does he not govern it ? Surely 
 then worldly profperity and promotion can come neither 
 from the eaft nor the weji, nor yet from the fouth, hut 
 from God, who putteth down one, and raifetb up an- 
 other. 
 
 But, left the Chriftian motives to a good life fhould, 
 through the extreme infirmity of human nature, fail of 
 their effed, our religion propofes ftill higher helps from 
 the grace of God, communicated to all true believers, 
 through his word and ordinances. The arm of the Al- 
 mighty himfelf is employed in beating down the cor- 
 ruptions, and raifing the virtues, of every endeavouring 
 Chriftian. And, even when this all- conquering ally, to 
 humble the Chriftian with a fenfe of his own weaknefs, 
 fufFers him to f^J], the Spirit of God lifts him to a true 
 repentance ; and his Redeemer, having atoned for his fin, 
 by his powerful intercefTions, raifes him again into the 
 comfortable fmiles of his Mafter. 
 
 Is 
 
7 be Gofpel proved to the Unlearned. ^gy 
 
 Is not the good Chridian then the happieft of all men ? 
 Place him at the rich man*s gate with Lazarus ; or place 
 him even on the dunghill of Joh^ is he not happy ? Is he 
 not infinitely happier, than he who is tortured with fear, 
 and other outrageous palTions, amidft all the fplendors of 
 a palace •, than he who welters in guilt on a throne ? O 
 lovely ! O heavenly Chriftianity ! How blind is he, who 
 cannot fee thy truth ! How depraved and loft, who owns 
 not thy divine excellence ! How do the rich and great 
 miftake thee and themfelves ! They imagine, that with 
 thee they muft bid adieu to all the pleafures riches can 
 beftow -, and fpend their days in gloom and affii(5tion. 
 How grofsly in this do they wrong thee ! It is true, thou 
 wouldft no longer fuffer them to be debafed by avarice, 
 to be drenched in luxury, to be polluted with lull, to be 
 racked with pride, ambition, contention, and envy •, to 
 rot in foul dillempers, or to.be broken alive, as on the 
 wheel, with gout and gravel. Thou wouldft not fuffer 
 them in fhort to live like beafts, and die hke devils. And 
 is it for this they are offended ? 
 
 O you rich, whom God hath bleffed, perhaps I fliould 
 rather fay, whom you yourfelves have curfed with the 
 wealth of this world, do you underltand fo little of Chri- 
 ftianity, as not to know, that, if you were but half as 
 rich in fpiritual, as you are in temporal treafures, you 
 might turn your wealth to infinitely better account, even 
 in point of pleafure, than you do ? Chriftianity would 
 allow you fo to manage your fortunes, as to diflinguifh 
 yourfelves according to the rank God hath placed you in ; 
 it would allow your houfes and drefs to be more magni- 
 ficent, and your tables better covered, than thofe of 
 meaner men. It only forbids that excefs in thefe things, 
 which always renders them a burden and a fnare to you, 
 and a bar to all real happinefs. And as to fo much of 
 your fortunes as thefe expences leave you, it would indeed 
 forbid you to lavifh them on drunkennefs, lewdnefs, and 
 gaming, but would it not open to you another field of 
 pleafure infinitely more beautiful and extended ? Would 
 it not teach you to lay out a fhare of your wealth for the 
 fecurity and improvement of your country ? Would it 
 
 •not 
 
39^ ^^ (^ofj-e^' proved to the Unlearned. 
 
 not teach you to turn the cries of the widow and the or- 
 phan, which are now perhaps foliciting heaven for your 
 dellrucflion, into fhouts of joy, and prayers for length of 
 days, and profpericy to you and your children ? If you 
 are men, furely thefe things mult make your hearts over- 
 flow with unutterable joy ; and furely, if, to crown 
 your happinefs, you fpent your leifure hours in improving 
 your minds with ufeful ftudies, in tracing the wifdom and 
 goodnefs of God through the wonders of his works, and 
 by that means raifing your fouls, on the wings of contem- 
 plation, to divine love, would you have any reafon to 
 regret your former amufcments with a dice-box, a bottle, 
 or an harlot ? 
 
 The moil ignorant man alive, whether of the great, 
 vulgar, or the fmall, may be convinced,, that Chriftianity, 
 if heartily embraced and followed, muft be the happinefs 
 of the rich man ; who, if he is not a Chriftian, can draw 
 from all his wealth but an empty (hadow of happinefs ; 
 and of the poor man ; who, if he is not a Chriftian, cannot 
 hope for even that Ihadow. 
 
 If, from confidering the bleffed efFefts of Chriftianity 
 on particulars, we turn our eyes to fociety, in order to fee 
 what it might do there, we lliall find the argument in its 
 favour acquiring a much higher degree of ftrength and 
 clearnefs. But, in order to do this, we muft firft under- 
 ftand Chriftianity and human nature rightly, that we may 
 the better perceive what would be the effed, were the prin- 
 ciples and fpirit of this holy religion fairly tried on a civil 
 community ; which hath never yet been done ; fo, I mean, 
 as to make it not only the private rule of adtion to thofe 
 who are governed, but like wife the political rule of aftiori 
 to the governors themfelves, in the management of public- 
 affairs. Without an experiment of this nature, the ob- 
 jedors can have no better right to impofe their conjedures 
 on us, than we have to infift' on our own. Nay, that their 
 right in this behalf is by no means fo well founded as ours, 
 I hope will foon appear; 
 
 Were all the people of any country, or community, 
 true and real Chriftians, in the firft place, although all the 
 relations, fuch as father and fon, hufoand and wife, ^c. 
 
 would 
 
The Go/pel proved to the Unlearned. 3^9 
 
 would be, in reality, reinforced with ftronger love, and a 
 more uniform fenfe of duty -, yet would they feem to be fo 
 funk in Chriftian charity, that the aged would, in effed, 
 be parents to all the young, and the younger people 
 would, in duty and tendernefs, be children to all the old 5 
 all would be friends and brothers to all. Every one 
 would fpeak truth with his neighbour ; which would beget 
 an intire and univerfal confidence. They would love as 
 brethren \ they would all be pitiful ; they would all be 
 courteous, in honour preferring one another ; and, as luch, 
 mult maintain a moil delightful intercourfe in all their 
 converfations. Pride, wrath, envy, malice, calumny, 
 revenge, would be wholly baniflied from among them. 
 
 Again, as they would all walk before God in upright- 
 nefs of heart, not only doing juftice, but fhewing mercy, 
 frauds, contentions, law-fuits, and opprellions, would 
 never once be heard of in fuch a fociety. All their 
 dealings would be Ihort, eafy, and fafe. It is no dif- 
 ficult matter to conceive what effeds this would have on 
 commerce. 
 
 To finilh the charader of this Chriftian fociety, the 
 magiftrates would in all things make the laws and juftice 
 the rule of government •, and would have but httie trouble 
 in the dilcharge of their duty, becaufe the people would 
 be willingly obedient, and llridly honeft. 
 
 Let us now fee what advantages fuch a fociety as this 
 would have over all others, both in Deace and war. 
 
 In the firft place, they would never give occafion for a 
 war ; becaufe, being lovers of peace, and ftrid obfervers 
 of juftice, they could never be the aggreffors ; fo that 
 they muft have a better chance for peace, than any other 
 community. Now, it is plain, that, in time of peace, 
 the wealth of the world muft flow in upon them. If a 
 people fo honeft, temperate, and frugal, fhould turn 
 themfelves to commerce, it is evident, their country muft 
 foon become the centre of trade to all other nations ; be- 
 caufe with thefe, and with no others, it will be always 
 fare to deal, and, I ftiould add, profitable too •, for they 
 will never defire more, than their reafonable fhare of gain, 
 on any branch of trade. 
 
 Their 
 
400 T'he Go/pel pro'ved to the XJnledrned. 
 
 Their high character of integrity being once univerfally 
 cftablifhed, the wealthy people of otlier countries will 
 never think their money fafe, till it is lodged in this j 
 which will make this the guardian of all the fuperfluous 
 wealth belonging to foreigners, and give it, by that means, 
 fuch an interell in other countries, as will bid fair to fe- 
 cure its peace with them at all events. By means of this 
 wealth, which will anfwer the end of a pledge given by 
 other nations for their obfervation of all treaties with this ; 
 as alfo by means of the power and juftice, for which this 
 people will be celebrated over the whole world, they v.'ill 
 become the arbitrators of all difputes among the neigh- 
 bouring kingdoms. Their decifions will, of courfe, 
 acquire the authority of laws ; infomuch that, to all the 
 good ends and purpofes of power, they will, without 
 the leaft afiiftance of modern politics, and without fhed- 
 ding a drop of blood, reign over the world, as far as they 
 are known. 
 
 Another, and frill better article of wealth, will, in time, 
 be gained by this happy fociety. Their temperance and 
 induftry will give them health, ftrength, and length of 
 days ; which, it is known, muft, in the fucceffion of a 
 few ages, prodigioudy increafe their numbers. Bcfides, 
 the happinefs they enjoy muft be an irrefiftible invitation 
 to foreigners of like difpofuions to come over and be na- 
 turalized. The good and honeft members of other com- 
 munities, grieved and tired out with the wickednefs of 
 their own countries, will come over to this, where they 
 can be fo happy ; and, while they add prodigioufly to its 
 ftrength, will wholly enfeeble the communities they de- 
 ferted ; becaufe a community, made up of wicked people 
 only, is a mere rope of fand, and cannot long maintain 
 itfelf. How far this will contribute to caft the balance in 
 favour of the Chriftian fociety, is eafy to fee. It is alfo 
 as eafy to fee, that the unjuft and lawlefs will never once 
 think of fettling in a country, where they know the laws 
 will be fo impartially and fo expeditioudy put in execution 
 againft them. 
 
 On the other hand, the advantages fuch a fociety will 
 have, in time of war, with its neighbours (obferve it can 
 
 never 
 
The Gofpel pro'ved to the U?ilearnecL 401 
 
 never be in danger of a civil war), will be inconceivably 
 great. I need not fay, that the members of this com- 
 munity, in which they are fo happy, will be warmed 
 with the mod ardent love for their country, nor that, in 
 confequence of this love, they will do their utmoft to de- 
 fend it. But it will be of ufe to obferve, that they muft 
 be as able, as they are willing, to maintain its caufe 
 againft: all invaders. In the firft place, as they will have 
 the zeal of patriots, fo they will have the courage of he- 
 roes, nay, of what is more, of martyrs, in fo juft and glo- 
 rious a caufe ; while they will have to do with wretches 
 lefs than women, who are made cowards by their con- 
 fciences. Thefe wicked mortals zvill flee zvhen no man 
 ptirfueth, while thofe righteous men will he as bold as fo 
 many lions. 
 
 In the next place our Chriflian warriors, being all their 
 lives ufed to temperance and induftry, will look on the 
 hardfhips and fatigues of war as an amufement ; while 
 their enemies, fofcened by luxury, or broken by vice, 
 will be rendered unfit for fervice in the firfl month of a 
 campaign. All the rules of difcipline, and all the orders 
 of their commander, will be ftriftly obferved by the 
 former -, while the latter will be perfedlly ungovernable 
 and mutinous. The former will have wealth, the finew 
 of war ; while the latter will have nothing to fupport fo 
 great expences, but what fo cowardly and fo feeble a race 
 of wretches can get by robbery and plunder from the 
 braveft of mankind. And, to infure the vitflory, the 
 God of battles will be the ally of thofe, and the adverfary 
 of thefe. 
 
 By this time, I hope, the mod ignorant perfbn, who 
 hears me, is fully convinced, that Chriftianity, if heartily 
 embraced, and ftriftly followed, would make every indi- 
 vidual man, and every community of men, happy here, 
 as well as hereafter. And I hope in this conviftion he 
 fees, fimple and unlearned as he is, a clear demonflration 
 of the truth and excellence of our religion •, which, when 
 it is attentively confidered, will preach the Gofpel to the 
 por^ in a voice as diftinfl, and with arguments as ftronff. 
 
 Vol. IL Dd as 
 
402 T^he G of pel proved to the Unlearned, 
 
 as thegreateft fcholar can draw from all his fkill in Latin, 
 Greek, Hebrew, and Antiquity. 
 
 What hath a poor ignorant man to do, but, as far as in 
 him lies, to ban i lb his prejudices, to filence his paffions ; 
 and, in this frame of mind, calling all his reafon to his 
 a,iri(tance, to confider, that, as God is infinitely gracious, 
 he muft will the happinefs of all his creatures -, that pure 
 Chnftianity, as it is plainly fet forth in Scripture, is not 
 fo much the beft, as the only religion in the world, that 
 can make him^ good and happy \ and that, if this is not 
 the true religion, infinite as God is in goodntfs, and im- 
 poffible as it is for us to be good and happy without the 
 true religion, he hath never been the author of any reli- 
 gion : from whence it will follcw, that our gracious 
 Maker hath left us, his creatures, unavoidably expofed to 
 fin and mifery. If the ignorant man duly weighs the 
 arguments I have offered, with that fenfe and underftand- 
 ing he fhews in matters of lels mom nr, but of more 
 difficulty, he will be fully convinced of this, that Chri- 
 ftianity is the v;ill, and his Bible the voice, of God. After 
 having thus fettled his mind, he viWlJiandfaJi in the faith -y 
 while others, more conceitedly learned, flagger and wan- 
 der in endlefs doubts ; he will wifely praftice every Chri- 
 ftian virtue ; while others, who make a bad ufe, and a vain 
 fhew, of higher knowlege, do nothing but difpute and 
 Wrangle ; he will, in a word, at the great day, when we 
 fhall all be tried and fifted by Infinite Wifdom, be found 
 fdlid and wholefome wheat, while they Ihall be thrown 
 alide as empty chaff. 
 
 I ought not to difmiis this fubjedl, without obferving, 
 that none but the poor ever h-.id, or poffibly can have, 
 the Gofpel effedually preached to them ; but I mean by 
 the poor, thofe whom our Saviour elfewhere calls the poor 
 in fpirit. As Chrift himielf was not born in a palace, 
 but a liable ; nor laid in a fumptuous cradle, but in a 
 'manger ; fo his religion never finds its effedual birth in a 
 mind proud and conceitedly refined, but only in an heart 
 fmiple, humble, and mortified with a lenfe of its own in- 
 fufficiency. Hence it is, that St. Paul cries out. Where 
 is the wife ? Where is the fcribe F Where is the difputer Qf 
 2 this 
 
The Gofpel proved to the Unlearned. 402 
 
 this '-Mrld? Hath not God made fooliJJd the wifdom of this 
 world F The foolijlj/iefs of God is wifer than men ; and the 
 weaknefs of God jlronger than men •, and therefore we fe, 
 as he fjys, how that not many wrfe men after iheflefh^ not 
 many mighty^ not many noble, are called. On the con- 
 trary, we lee, God hath Tingled out the ignorant for 
 apoftles and inftruftors to the learned ; hath chofen the 
 fcolijh things of the world to confound the wife ; the weak 
 things of the world to confound the mighty ; the bafe 
 things of the worlds and things which are defpifed^ hath 
 God chofen^ yea, and things which are not, to bring to 
 nought things that are, that no flefh fhould glory in his pre- 
 fence \ but that, according as it is written, he that glori- 
 eth fljould glory in the Lord. That God firft manitefted 
 the true wifdom to the ignorant, and fent them to be the 
 teachers of the knowing, was the eff. dt indeed of his own 
 free choice. But he hath affigned us a reafon for this 
 choice, namely, that no flejh might glory, and that all 
 men might acknowlege the true religion to be the work, 
 not of human, but of Divine Wifdom. We may guefs 
 at another reafon for this. The ignorant are more fuf- 
 ccptible of true and ufeful knowlege, than fuch as are 
 prejudiced to falfe philofophy, and vain refinements ; as 
 they, who have been for fome time in the dark, are more 
 readily (truck with a true and fteady light, than fuch as 
 are dazzled with falfe lights. It is ftill, as it was at firft, 
 eafier to give light to them that fit in darknefs, and are 
 fenfible of their own ignorance, than to thofe who are 
 already coo wife to be taught. The truth enters an empty 
 underftanding, with greater freedom and facility, than 
 one filled and pre-occupied with its own opinions. This 
 advantage, on the fide of the fimple and illiterate, is fo 
 great, efpecially in regard to the admiffion of religious 
 truth, wlierein fubtilty and refinement have no right to a 
 place, that it were really better for a man to know nothing, 
 in order to know Chrijl crucified, than to have his head 
 fluffed with the whole circle of human fciences ; infinitely 
 better, furely, than to be previoudy attached to any other 
 • fyftem of religion. In this cafe learning is not half the 
 
 D d 2 ad van- 
 
404 ^^^ Go/pel proved to the Uiilearned. 
 
 advantage to the knowing, that a confcioufnefs of their 
 own ignorance is to the illiterate. 
 
 Let us now earnefty befeech the good God to give us 
 the unfeigned fimplicity and humility of Chrift, that our 
 hearts may be open to the true wifdom of his Gofpel, and 
 that we may be among thofe happy poor, to whom it is 
 preached in its full beauty and power. Grant us this, 
 bleffed Lord, we moft humbly befeech thee, for the fake 
 of Chrift Jefus our Saviour ; to whom, with Thee, and 
 the Holy Spirit, be all might, majefty, dignity, and do- 
 minion, now, and for evermore. 
 
 D I S- 
 
[ 40f ] 
 
 DISCOURSE XXIV. 
 
 Chriftianity not incredible, becaufe myftci 
 
 rious. 
 
 \ 
 
 St. John xvii. 25. 
 
 O righteous Father, the ivorld hath not known thee. 
 
 AS, in order to know any particular man, it is not 
 enough to know, that there is a man of fuch a 
 name or chara<5ler, but we mufl alfo have fome intercourfc 
 and intimacy with him, and fome perfonal knowlege of 
 him 5 fo merely to know that there is a Being, who made 
 and governs all things, who is infinitely wife, juft, pow- 
 erful, and good, is only to know that there is a God ; it . 
 is not to know God, 
 
 He only knows God, agreeably to the ends and pur- 
 pofes of religion, who compels his low and narrow pre- 
 judices to give way, and enlarges his underftanding, to 
 make room for a great and exalted idea of the divine Be« 
 ing •, who cleanfes and opens his heart, that it may, with 
 all pofTible love and reverence, receive an amiable and aw- 
 tul imprefTion of him -, and who, Jetting wide the gates of 
 his mind, that the King of glory may come in, feels him " 
 entering that living temple, and polleffing himfelf of an 
 
 D d 3 abfolute 
 
^o6 Chrift'taftity not incredible , 
 
 ablbkite power over all the faculties of his foul, and all 
 the pafTions of his heart. When God is truly known, the 
 undcrftanding muft be convinced, that his nature is in- 
 comprehenfible, and his majefty inconceivable -, and the 
 heart muft b;^ deeply engaged to him, inalmuch as he is 
 the moft amiable and excellent of all beings. 
 
 It is plain, therefore, that the vicious perfon and the a 
 libertine know not God ; for, if they did, they would fear | 
 and love him -, they would confider him as a Being inti- \ 
 nitely glorious and Jncomprehenfible, and would be afraid '' 
 to make free with him, by prefumptuous reafonings about 
 him ; they would confider^ him as always prefent with j 
 them, as a fure Wicnefs anci juft Judge, and would not 
 fufFer their unruly paflions to reoel againft him. 
 
 Vv^hat we know of God is fpiricually difcerned, and not 
 in the common way of knowlege, by our fenfes or expe- 
 rience. The woridiy-minded therefore cannot know God ; 
 becaufe, while they follow the track of thofe falfe opini- 
 ons and corrupr pafllons that govern the wurld, they can 
 never meet with God, whole paths lie another v/ay, and 
 are paft finding out to fuch minds. The way of God is 
 far above, out of their fight ; which is turned dovi/nward 
 en the ways of the world, and too intent on the affairs 
 of this life, to confider the nature of an invifible and in- 
 comprehenfible Being. 
 
 But, to the mind that attends to the voice of religion, 
 and is difpofed to receive its inftruclion, fo much of the 
 Divine nature difcovers itfelf, as is ntcefTciry to the pur- 
 pofes of religion, and the haprinefs of fuch a mind. 
 
 If evf-n the moft fpifrual mind fhould pry farther, or 
 attempt a deeper inquiry into the Divine nature, it would 
 quickly find, that fuch kncwlege is too wonderful for it^ 
 aijd that it could not attain unto it^ no, not v/ith the afiift- 
 ance of revelation uielf ; which only lets ys fo far into 
 the kn>nvlegc of God, as is rcquifite to our own falva- 
 tio.!; 5 but affords neither encouragement nor fatisfadlion 
 to vain > nquii ies into what we are neither concerned in, 
 nor capable of The knowlege which our religion affords 
 US, of God, is the utinoft our narrow faculties can contain, 
 
 when 
 
becmife myfterious, 407 
 
 when barely propofed, and infinitely more than they can 
 account for by reafon, in its higheft improvement. 
 
 Our libertines, however, cry out for what they call a 
 rational religion. But is nothing rational which reafon 
 cannot perfectly account for ? Reafon and common fenfe 
 tell us, God is incomprehenfible. Can it be common 
 ienfe, or reafon, then, that leads fome men to difbelieve 
 certain points concerning God, which are delivered and 
 proved to us by the beft authority, and never yet fliewn 
 to imply the lead abfurdity, merely becaufe they cannot 
 clearly account for them ? If this be reafon, then reafon 
 is far more inconfiftent with itfelf, than any revealed do- 
 dlrine concerning God can even feem to be. 
 
 But it is not to be fuppofed, that reafon, truly fuch, 
 fhould engage in fo great an inconfiflency. Thefe in- 
 ftances of impiety and abfurdity proceed rather from 
 pride, and other worldly pafTions ; which the m.yfleries of 
 our religion would humble, if believed -, and the more 
 pradlical dodrines, that are infeparably united to them, 
 would reflram. But, as it would not look decent to ca- 
 vil at the pradlical and moral part of our religion, they 
 make their attack on the myfterious •, in hopes that, if 
 that fhould be once brought into difcredit, or fufpicion, 
 contempt might be thence refleded on what they think the 
 feverities of Chrifbanity. 
 
 It is to be prefiimed, that, had our religion, like Ma- 
 hometifm, indulged the defires, and favoured the plea- 
 fures, of its believers, it had neither at firfl, nor in fuc- 
 ceeding ages, met with fo much diftafte and oppofition 
 from men of loofe difpofitions ; they would, in return, 
 have indulged all its myfteries. We fee this experimen- 
 tally proved to us by popery ; among whofe protelTofs 
 there are thofe of as great penetration, and as ftrongly 
 engaged to worldly interefts, and fenfual pleafures, as any 
 who fet up to dejpife religion among usi yet thefe men 
 will fwallow myfteries by the bundle, will wink at mani- 
 teft impoficions, nay, and contentedly divide their for- 
 tunes with their clergy. But then for this they have their 
 confciences, which they could not themfelves fo effedually 
 keep in order, made eafy, and all kept quiet within, be 
 
 D d 4 their 
 
4.0 S Chrijiiaiiify not incredible ^ 
 
 their lives never fo corrupt and diflblute. But our reli- 
 gion, not being calculated for this fort of men, and pro- 
 pofing no abfurdities to be believed, hath provided no 
 indujgences to purchafe either the faith, or outward con- 
 formify, of fuch perfons. 
 
 It is undoubtedly by their averfion to all religion that 
 nien are led to difpute the myfteries of the true -, for thofe 
 myftt ries contain in them nothing hard to be conceived, 
 or fhocking to reafon. Every one knows what is under- 
 ftood by the dodtrine of the Trinity, and the incarnation 
 of our Saviour. Now it cannot be (hewn, that either the 
 one or the other is at all inconfiftent with the Divine na- 
 ture •, becaufe no man knows, or pofTibly can know, fo 
 much of God, as to make out the leart appearance of fuch 
 an inconfiftency. 
 
 Yet thefe are the only myfteries peculiar to Chriftianity, 
 at which the very delicate faith of our libertines would 
 fcem to flumble. They cannot conceive, how even the 
 power of God fhould unite the nature of r ;an to his own, 
 nor how the unity of the Divine nature fiiould admit of 
 a perfonal diftinftion, though they acknowlege the nature 
 of God to be utterly incomprehenfible. 
 
 Unfortunately for thefe men, there is a profound my- 
 ftery in deifm, and in natural religion, which it is impof- 
 fible ever to clear up, or reconcile to reafon, without ad- 
 mitting the dodrines of the perfonal diftindion, and of 
 the incarnation. It is admitted on all hands, by deifts as 
 well as others, that God is both infinitely juft, and infi- 
 nitely merciful. Now, as he is infinitely jull, reafon 
 tells us he will punifh every offender ; yet, as he is in- 
 finitely merciful, the fame reafon tells us he will pardon 
 all ofi"ences. The light of natural reafon can never dif- 
 engage itfclf from this great difficulty. Chriftianity alone 
 can clear it up : for it is impofTible for us to conceive any 
 other way of fatisfying the juftice of God for fin, in or- 
 der that mer<^y may take place, but by an atonement ; ' 
 and it is moft abfurd to fuppofe, that a fufficient atone- 
 ment could be made, but by the fuffering of a Divine 
 perfon, diflinft from him, to whom this atonement ought 
 to be made. Now, a Divine perfon, as fuch, cannot fuffer 
 
 4it 
 
becaufe myjierioiis, 409 
 
 at all ; but a perfon confifting of the Divine and human 
 nature may, and Chriftians believe he did -, and that they 
 have remijfion of fins through his blood. 
 
 All other fchemes of religion, but the Chriftian, fet the 
 very attributes of God at eternal variance with each other, 
 and hang a mill-ftone about their own necks ; which, as 
 human reafon put it on, fo it is impoffible it fhould ever 
 take it off. The angels defired to look into this myftery, 
 but were not able to comprehend it, till the wifdom and 
 power of God laid it open in the Gofpel, and made it in- 
 telligible, even to men. 
 
 This wonderful difpenfation, fo admirably fitted to la- 
 tisfy the juflice of God, to fave the fouls of men, to take 
 away the great difficuky that lay on religion, and anfwer 
 all its excellent ends, is reprefented by libertines as too 
 myflerious to be conceived, and too inconfiflent with rea- 
 fon to be believed. But the truth is, it is too inconfiftent 
 with vanity, with fenfuality, with avarice, and ambition, 
 to gain admittance among fuch men. Self-fufficiency, 
 and the God of this worlds hath blinded the minds of them 
 which believe not -, lejl the light of the glorious Gofpel of 
 Chrifl^ who is the image of God, fJjould fhine unto them. 
 It is not reafon, but pride and worldly- mindednefs, that 
 make all the apoftates from Chriftianity. Some men are 
 fo highly conceited of their own abilities, as to think they 
 want neither God nor man to inftru(51; them. Their rea- 
 fon is fufEcient, and, of itfelf, gives them a perfed know- 
 lege of all they have occafion to know, even of God him- 
 felf. How vaftly fuperior are they in the faculties of the 
 mind to the reft of mankind, and, I may add, to the 
 great philofophers of former ages •, who have never been 
 able to go much beyond their teachers, in the knowlege 
 of Divine things I 
 
 But, with all their boafted fufficiency, which was ne- 
 ver yet found attended m the fame mind with much real 
 wifdom, they know no more of God than other men; 
 nay, fo far as they forfake the affiflance of revelation, juft 
 fo far, it is plain, they know lefs. Socrates, who was the 
 greateft uninfpired man that ever lived, faid, he knew but 
 one thing, and that was, that he knew nothing. The 
 
 truth 
 
41 o Chriftiantty not incredible^ 
 
 truth is, the human faculties are too narrow and weak to 
 arrive at a perfed knowlege of any thing in nature j fo 
 far are they from being able to afford us a perfedl, or, 
 merely by their own ftrength, any reafonabie knowlege of 
 God, the Author of nature j between whom and man 
 there is an infinite diftance. 
 
 Between us and the brute creation there is, in compa- 
 rifon, but a very fmall and inconfidcrable difference ; and 
 yet, to a brute, a man is a very incomprehenfible Being. 
 Nay, what is more, a brute is a compofition of unintel- 
 ligible myfteries to a man ; infomuch that he hath been a 
 god to fome men, and is a pattern to the libertine, who 
 at once eats and imitates him, definng to live as he does, 
 without religion, and die without hope. 
 
 One man knows but little of another ; and, though 
 the wifeft of men hath but a fmall fhare either of 
 wifdom or power, yet fome men have atrained to, or 
 ftruck out, fuch degrees of knowlege, as muft be for ever 
 utterly myfterious and unfathomable to others. 
 
 A man knows fo little of himfelf, that he hath reafon 
 to cry out, with Davids I am fearfully and vjonderfully 
 made j he knows not how his tiioughts arife within, how 
 his heart beats, how his food nourifhes him, how his bo- 
 dy grows, how his eye rolls, or his finger moves. 
 
 Now, if brutes know fo little of us, and even we of 
 ourfelves, when the objeft is fo diftincSl and near, how 
 (hall we be able to comprehend the Divine nature, which 
 is fo infinitely above us ? May not this infinite Being be 
 prelent every- where ? And may there not be room in fuch 
 a boundlefs nature for mercy and jurtice, infinite each, in 
 refpe6t to its own proper objecfl ? May there not be three 
 perfons in the incomprehenfible unity of God, for aught 
 we know to the contrary ? How can it be proved that 
 there are not ? If that proof pretends to come from rea- 
 fon, it is plainly contraoicled by another from the fame 
 reafon, much better known, and more certain -, nam.ely, 
 that it is as impofiible for us to comprehend the Divine 
 nature, as it is for the fmalleft circle to comprehend the 
 greateft ; fo that, if reafon contradicts itfelf, it can prove 
 
 notiiing. 
 
 But 
 
hecaiife myjiertoui. 41 1 
 
 But right reafon never contradids itfelf, nor prefumes 
 to pron;)unce about what is fo infinitely above the facul^ 
 ties by which it wo; ks. When it feems to do otherwife, 
 it IS in n;iinds where tlie pride and vanity of more know- 
 legc, than comes to the fliare of others, have tranfported 
 \t beyond, or rather put it befide, itfelf \ fo that, being 
 puffed up with their own conceit, they think their capa- 
 cities of fjfRcient extent to comprehend him, li^hom the 
 heaven of heavens cannot contain. Although they know 
 little or nothing of God's works, yet they will prefumc 
 to difpute and pronounce about God himfelf, \yith as 
 much familiarity and affurance, as if they had only an 
 lierb or infcd under confideration, and are perfcdly cu- 
 rious in their obfervations on him. 
 
 But, it is to be prefumed, they rather fpeakof that little 
 fanraftic idol they have fet up in their own imaginations 
 to reprefent him, than of the true God ; of whom, if 
 they only had as exalted notions as other wife and good 
 men, they would, like them, keep filence before him ; and, 
 inftead of attempting fo awful a fubjed:, adore him at that 
 infinite diftance that nature hath put between him and 
 them. For he who hath the higheft knowlege of God, is 
 the moif fenfible of his own incapacity to comprehend the 
 infinite greatnefs ef the Divine Being; in the contempla- 
 tion of which, reafon, and imagination, and judgment, 
 and all our faculties, are fwallowed up and loft. 
 
 Simonides^ who was a great philofopher and poet, at 
 the requeft of Hiero^ like a modern libertine, immediately 
 undertook to define the Deity ; and, as if it had been an 
 eafy tafk, required only a few days to prepare an anfwer 
 to this queftion. What is God ? but, upon confidering 
 the fubjedt a little more at leifure, he found it neceffary 
 to demand more time ; and the difficulty ftill encreafing 
 with his application, he was obliged to go on doubling 
 his demands of time ; till he found the Divine nature in- 
 comprehenfible, and his own finking under an utter im» 
 poifibility of ever accomplifhing his rafh undertaking. 
 
 And fo it iSj even with thofe who are afTifted by Di- 
 vine revelation. They can, from thence, learn fo much 
 
 of 
 
412 Chrijlia72ity not incredible^ 
 
 of God's nature, as to know what obligations they lie un- 
 der to him, and what duties they owe him. But if, thro' 
 a vain prefumption or curiofity, they inquire farther, the 
 fubjed grows too unfearchable for their penetration, too 
 big for their comprehenfion. It rifes infinitely above their 
 higheft thoughts ; and their imaginations, on the utmoft 
 ftretch, and with the moft exalted flights, lofe fight of it 
 in a moment. 
 
 As well might we attempt to fathom the ocean with an 
 inch of line, or encompafs the heavens, and infinite fpace, 
 with a ring that is only large enough for our finger, as 
 think of comprehending the infinite nature v/ith our nar- 
 row minds. What meafure have we for him, who -^letcth 
 cut the heavens ? Or how fhall we weigh his nature, 'cvho 
 pitteth the mountains in fcales, and the hills in a balance, 
 and before whom all the nations of the earthy and among 
 the reft the mighty libertine, are but as the drop of a 
 bucket^ that hangs on the outfide, and adds nothing to its 
 weight ; and are accounted as the f mall dujl of the balance, 
 too light to turn the fcales ! IVith Gcd there is terrible 
 majejiy ; touching the Almighty we cannot find him out. 
 How fhall we behold him, who hath clouds and darknefs 
 round about him, who maketh darknefs his fecret place, 
 whofe pavilion round about hi?n are dark waters, and thick 
 douds of the Jky ! How rtiall we trace him, whofe way is 
 in the fea, and his path in the great waters, and whofe 
 footfteps therefore are not known. 
 
 Canfi thou, by fearching^ find out God ? fays Zophar to 
 Job : Canfi thou find out the Almighty to perfection ? This 
 knowlege is as high as heaven ; what canfi thou do ? It is 
 deeper than hell, what canfi thou know? The meafure thereof 
 is longer than the earth, and broader than the fea. 
 
 "We may put thefe queftions to our libertines, when they 
 prefume fo to fpeak of the Divine nature, as if a trinity 
 of perfons were inconfiftent with it, and as if they knew 
 fo much of God, as to be perfedly fenfible of that in- 
 confin:ency. 
 
 But if the libertine is fo expert at removing myfteries, 
 let him clear up this, and, in return, I promife to account 
 tor the Trinity, How comss it to pafs, diataGod of in- 
 finite 
 
hecatife myjlerious. 4x3 
 
 finite juftlce, wifdom, and power, fiiould fuffer that man 
 to live, who makes ic the bufinefs of his life to corrupt 
 himfelf, and to debauch the principles and morals of 
 others ; who is become the apoftle of fin, an enemy to 
 God, and a fnare to the fouls of men. 1 hi?, we are all 
 convinced, is confident with the attributes ot God : But 
 can the libertine demonftrate to us that confiftcncy ? Can 
 he clear up this great myftery, and give u«5 a fatisfadlory 
 reafon, why he himfelf is not yet overtaken by divine 
 vengeance ? 
 
 Pride was the fin of angels ; and a vicious third of 
 knowlege the firft crime of man. Our libertines have 
 united both in themfelves, and have met with the double 
 punifhment due to thofe crimes, ignorance, and, it is to 
 be feared, an irretrievable fall from God and happinefs. 
 To mortify their pride, they are degraded from a rational 
 to a brutal nature ; and, inftead of more than common, 
 or indeed polTible, knowlege, they are plunged in utter 
 darknefs. Their ignorance hinders them from being fen- 
 fible of their own infufficiency, which would humble them, 
 and io foments their pride ; and their pride renders them 
 unteachable, and, by that means, keeps them in perpe- 
 tual ignorance. They are, as St. Paid fays, proud, knoW' 
 ing nothing, hut doting about qiiefiiom andjlrifes of words ^ 
 and ferverfe difputings of men of corrupt rnindsy and dejli- 
 tute of truth. 
 
 Thus pride makes profelytes to infidelity, while worldly- 
 mindednefs is as aflive to the fame end. By worldly-mind- 
 ednefs I don't only mean a love for this world, and the 
 things of it, but alfo fuch prejudices, and wrong princi- 
 ples of thinking, as the underftanding and heart of man 
 are too apt to contrad, in a clofe converfation with the 
 world. 
 
 Thofe, who are enflaved to the love of this world, the 
 great bufinefs of whofe lives it is to purfue, and whofe chief" 
 good it is to enjoy, the riches, the pleafures, the power, 
 and fplendor, here below, bear with great impanence the 
 rellraints of revealed religion. Our religion b ds us re- 
 nounce and hate the world, and the lulls of the ficlh, as 
 enemies to God and our fouls. Now is it to be expelled 
 
 that 
 
4r4 Chrijiianify not incredible^ 
 
 that men, who have no other defire but for them, no 
 other pleafure but in them, fhould digeft ilich a IpirituaJ, 
 iuch a feif-denying religion? 
 
 A weak perfon, who is enfiaved to his palate, though 
 labouring under a dangerous diforder, hates the bitter me- 
 dicine that is neceffary to his cure; but, when he re'fufes 
 to take it, he does not i'ay, ,it is becaufe it is bitter, or 
 that he prefers his palate to his health ; but he either in- 
 (ifts that he is well enough, and that he is in no need of 
 medicines, or that the medicine is unlbund, or the phy- 
 fician who prefcribes it unfkilful. So it is exadlly with 
 the worldly-minded in refpeiSt to religion. Although his 
 ■whole mind is diibrdered, and torn with outrageous paf- 
 fions, and although nothing elfe can cure him but religion, 
 yet, as all his paffions and appetites vote againft it, he 
 cannot away with it. However he is afhamed to give 
 this reafon for reje*5ling it ; and therefore either labours' 
 to prove himfelf free from all- corruption and irregularity, 
 or to fliew that religion hath no truth in it, and is inap- 
 plicable to his caie. To this end he falls upon its my- 
 fteries, infifting that his reafon forbids him to receive them, 
 and that, if he did, they could be of no ufe to him, in- 
 afmuch as they have no moral tendency to correft the ir- 
 regularities of human nature. 
 
 Hence it comes, that men of this ftamp will admit no 
 notion of God into their minds, but fuch an one as is 
 agreeable to their prejudices, and reprefents him as pleafed 
 with what pleafes themfelves. Now the fcriptural notion 
 of God is of quite a different nature, and reprefents him 
 both as an incomprehenfible Being, and as infinitely averfe' 
 to thofe corruptions and pollutions they delight in. In 
 order therefore to get rid on't, they fet themleives firfl: to 
 expofe what they cannot comprehend, that they may af- 
 terwards, with the better grace, rejeft what they do not 
 relifli in it. 
 
 This kind-of worldly-mindednefs makes more unbe- 
 lievers indeed, but they are not fo fincerely infidel as 
 thofe, who are led to conceive amifs, and pronounce pre- 
 fumptuoudy of God-, by a wrong bias of thought, con- 
 tracted in converfing too intimately with the lenfible things 
 
 of 
 
becaufe msflcr'iom. 415 
 
 of this world. They borrow all their rules of thinking 
 from what they obferve about them ; and when they come 
 to think of God, which is but fcldom, they regulate theic 
 notions of him by thofe rules. 
 
 From hence it came that a plurality of gods over- 
 fwarmed the world ; for every one conceiving of God, 
 according to his conceptions of things about him, fell at 
 lart into the abfurdity of worshiping God under the re- 
 prefentation of his own favourite man, or river, or brute, 
 or plant. 
 
 And, even among perfons more enlightened, this is 
 too often the cafe. In the gloomy mind, God is no- 
 thing but wrath and terror, armed with thunder, and in- 
 tent on vengeance. In a mind amufed by gaiety and 
 pleafure, he is all indulgence to the defires and enjoy- 
 ments of his creatures. The mathematician fays he is 
 number, and the mufician calls him harmony. Thefe are 
 gods of mens own making, and bear no referrtblance to 
 the living and incomprchenfible God. 
 
 Men are too inclinable to form their notions of God by 
 their notions of human nature ; which, neverthelefs, they 
 are much in the dark about. Although men be fo form- 
 ed in the image of God, that their faculties bear fome re- 
 femblance to his attributes, their reafon to his wifdom, 
 their probity to his juftice, their compaflion to his mer- 
 cy ; yet, if they hope by this way to form a perfed no- 
 tion of God, they will fucceed no better than they, who 
 attempted to raife that building to heaven, which they, 
 had founded on earth ; their endeavours will perifli in the 
 fam.e confufion. Now, if we examine the fentiments of 
 thofe who deny the Trinity, we fhall find them entirely 
 built on this argument of refemblance, over- {trained, and 
 wrong applied. In one man there cannot be more per- 
 fons than one; therefore in God there can only be one 
 perfon. If a peafant fhould, in this manner, conclude, 
 that, becaufe there is but one apartment in his cottage, 
 there can therefore be no more in the palace of a prince, 
 he would reafon jufl as wifely as they. 
 
 There is nothing within us, or about us, that can help 
 us to a perfeft knowlege of God. What a notion had the 
 
 children 
 
4i(> Chrtjlia72ify hot Incj- edible.^ 
 
 children of Ifrael of the Divine Being, who, when Mofes 
 was converfing with him on mount SinaU fet up a golden 
 calf to reprefent the almighty God ? Our libertines, in 
 like manner, forfaking the fcriptural notion of him, form 
 one from themfelves, which they worfhip, as the Ifrael- 
 ites did theirs, with fenfuality and riot -, they Jit down to 
 eat and drink, and then rife up to play. 
 
 To whom then Jhall -we liken God, or what likenefs /hall 
 we compare unto him ? Is he like a plant, or a brute, or 
 the fun, or the hoft of heaven ? What proportion or re- 
 femblance can they bear to their Creator ? Or is he like a 
 man ? Shall we imagine, wickedly, that he is even fuch an 
 one as ourfelves ? It is true, the foul of man is formed in 
 the image of the Divine Mind, but bears no proportion 
 to that which it refembles. Our likenefs of God renders 
 us capable of knowing him, fo far as our duty and wants 
 require ; while the infinite difproportion between him and 
 us places him above the curiofity and prefumption of our 
 enquiries. 
 
 Let us fearch the Scriptures, and there we fhall find 
 enough to da(h our own prefumption to the ground, to 
 Ihew us that God is too great to be comprehended by 
 us, to fatisfy us that there is a Trinity of perfons in his 
 nature •, which we may believe, but can never account for. 
 Our enquiry ought not to be, whether the Divine nature 
 is capable of fuch a Trinity in Unity •, for this, to mere 
 human reafon, is impofTible to be determined ; but whe- 
 ther the Scriptures are the word of God, or not ; and if 
 •we find they are, we ought furely to fubmit our faith to 
 every thing in them, without flaying to try it by our 
 wretched rules of thinking. 
 
 As to that knowlege of himfelf, which God hath been 
 pleafed to vouchfafe us, it is not, in refpeft to the Tri- 
 nity, or any thing elfe, as the libertines object, either 
 fpeculative or phyfical, in any degree ; it is purely prac- 
 tical. It was, that we might become good and happy 
 men, that God revealed himfelf and his v/ill to us. With 
 this gracious intention, he pafled the boundaries of na- 
 ture j and, defcending from the heights of heaven, drew 
 back the dark curtain of natural ignorance, that hung be- 
 tween 
 
becaufe myjierious. 4, 1 7 
 
 tween him and us, and Ihewed us fo much of himfelf aS 
 our faculties could bear, and our moral wants required 
 the knowlege of. 
 
 Shall we vainly think this vifit was made to our curio- 
 fity i and, inftead of adoring and obeying, idly fet our- 
 fclves to fpeculating and difputing about him ? Yes, the 
 world, which hath been too inquifitive from the begin- 
 ing, and exceffively conceited ever fince, will needs con- 
 vert God, who was propofed folely as an obje6t of love 
 and obedience, into a fubje(^ for impertinent and dan- 
 gerous enquiries. Therefore it was, that our Saviour cried 
 out, in the words of my text, O righteous Father ! the 
 world hath not known thee. 
 
 He that would know God rightly, let him open the 
 word of God with an humble (enfe of his own natural ig- 
 norance, and his many fpiritual wants ; with a defire to 
 be inftrufted, rot a defign to criticife ; and he Ihall there 
 learn, that God is one infinitely powerful, juft, wife, and 
 merciful Being ♦, that, in this infinite Being, there are three 
 Divine perfons, to each of whom we lie under diftind and 
 infinite obligauoris ; that the firft of thefc perfons framed 
 us out of the dull, and bellowed his own image on us i 
 that the fecond, after we had corrupted ourfelves by fin, 
 cook our nature on him, and died to fatisfy Divine juftice 
 for us, and eftablilh a covenant of peace between God 
 and us ; and that the third, knowing we have enemies to 
 contend with, who are too powerful for us, is ever near 
 us, removing from us all unfurmountable impediments 
 to the performance of fuch articles of the covenant as we 
 are engaged to, on our part. He will likewife find in 
 the holy Scriptures, that this great Being is prefent every- 
 where ; that he is about us, and ijoithin us, and fpieth out 
 all our ways •, nay, and knows our thoughts long before ; 
 that he will one day call us before his throne, and there, 
 with infinite knowlege and juftice, diftinguifhing the whole 
 race of mankind into two forts, fhall carry with him, to 
 his glorious place of abode, thofe who refemble him in 
 truth and goodnefs ; and fliall fend thofe with the author 
 of evil, who refemble him in fin and deformity, to re- 
 gions of darknefs, and everlafting defpair. 
 
 Vol. II. £ e This 
 
4i8 Chrljlianity net incredible. 
 
 This is that fort of knowlege, which God hath taught 
 us in his word • which we could not have known, with- 
 out revelation ; which the world hath not known ; which 
 the natural man receiveth not ; and to which not many 
 wife men after the flefh, not many noble or mighty, are 
 called •, which, neverthelefs, is absolutely neceflary to the 
 well-being of fociety, and the faivation of fouls. 
 
 This knowlege reprefents God to us as our Father, 
 our Saviour, our Comforter ; as the mofl: compaflionate, 
 the mod amiable, the moft excellent of all beings. Can 
 we behold him, thus gracious and beautiful, and not 
 love him more than the whole world, than life itfelf, 
 and even being ? 
 
 This knowlege alfo difplays him to us as an all-know- 
 ing witnefs, as an impartial judge, as an almighty king, 
 who can reward with celeftial kingdoms, and punifh with 
 infernal fires. Can we behold him in this awful light, 
 and not fear him ? 
 
 Or can we love and fear him, and yet difobey him ? 
 No ; the true knowlege of God is the only fpring of all 
 duty and virtue, and virtue the only road to true and real 
 happinefs. 
 
 As to any other fort, or higher degree, of knowlege 
 concerning God, as it would be ufelefs, fo would it be 
 impoflible and unattainable. Our faculties are not calcu- 
 lated to extend much farther than our wants. If we look 
 impartially and carefully into our nature, we fhall find our 
 knowlege fo cramp*d behind us, by the weaknefs of our 
 memory ; cut fo fhort in refpeft of what is to come, by 
 want of fore-knowlege -, reduced to fo fcanty bounds all 
 about us, by the narrownefs of our fenfes, and the fhort- 
 nefs of our lives ; and fo broken, by the infirmity of hu- 
 man reafon and judgment, that perfons of the moft im- 
 proved capacities feem to dired themfelves in the know- 
 lege of even temporal things, through a general dark- 
 nefs, by a faint taper, that enlightens a few paces round 
 them, and, moving with them, leaves it dark at a very 
 fmall diftance, both before and behind them. 
 
 How unequal muft faculties, fo deficient in teaching us 
 the nature of things we converfe with everv day, be, to 
 
hecaufe my/lenoUs. 419 
 
 the knowlege of an infinite and almighty objedl, fo far 
 removed from our obfervation ! Since fo it hath pleafed 
 God to form us, we ought to know, and humbly ac- 
 knowlege, our own infirmity ; and, in this fpirit of mo- 
 defty and lowlinefs, approach the Divine Being, rather 
 with awe, than curiofityj confefTing our own weaknefs, not 
 talking prefumptuoudy of his perfeftion. 
 
 He knows God beft, who feels the deepeft impreflions 
 of his majefty and goodnefs on his heart *, who praifes his 
 works indeed aloud, but adores the Author in filence and 
 aftonifhment 5 whofc notions of God are too great for ut- 
 terance, too wonderful for words to reprefent -, who dares 
 not approach too near to pry into the nature of fo awful 
 and terrible a Being -, who dares not (land before him, but 
 removes out of the way of him, who hath his way in the 
 whirlwind, and in the ftorm^ and the clouds are the duji 
 of his feet ; who worlhips at a refpedful diftance from 
 the fire that devours before him^ and the tempeji that is 
 ftirred up round about him. 
 
 To whom, in the the unity of the Father, the Son^ 
 and the Holy Ghoft, be all honour, and glory, and wor* 
 ftiip, for ever. Amen. 
 
 E c * D I S- 
 
[ 420 ] 
 
 DISCOURSE XXV. 
 
 He only faves, who wifely gives away. 
 
 Acts xx. 35. 
 it is more blejjed to give, than to receive. 
 
 IF we confider, that the word blejfed, in this faying of 
 of our Saviour, fignifies the fame as happy, we fhali 
 conclude, the faying itfeif muft appear a perfedl pa- 
 radox to the world. What, will the generality of man- 
 kind fay, is he more happy who gives away his fubftance 
 to others, than he who receives from them ? How can 
 this be true, if the neceffaries and comforts of life are not 
 reckoned in the number of evil things ? If they are good, 
 furely it cannot be an happinefs to part with them, nor 
 lefs than a means of happinefs to receive them- 
 
 Thus reafons the underllanding, prejudiced by a felfifii 
 and narrow heart, which ranks all, that avarice or luxury 
 can grafp at, among the neceffaries and comforts of life ; 
 becaufe it cannot be happy, nor even eafy, without a 
 treafure to gaze at, or wanton in. What comes of thif 
 happinefs arifing from fuch a ^urn of mind, when extra- 
 vagance, accidents, loffes, law-fuits, wars, or death, dif- 
 perfes all its riches? The anfwer to this queftion will 
 fhew, that the happinefs of a rational, not to fay a reli- 
 gious creature, ought to be founded on fomewhat eJfe, 
 than the poffeffion of wealth. It is not yi'^'^ that fays, re- 
 ceive 
 
He only faves, "who wifely gi'oes away. 421- 
 
 ceive and keep. Self only bids me confult myhappinefs. 
 It is grofs ignorance, and bad habits, that perfuade me re- 
 ceiving or keeping can make me happy. 
 
 But can giving away make a man happy ? I anfwer, 
 cither wealth is no way concerned in our happinefs, or, 
 fo far as it is, happinefs muft arife from a judicious man- 
 ner of parting with it. Pie is worfe than an ideot, who 
 heaps up riches with no other view than to increafe and 
 keep them. The man who reafons ac all on the fubje^l, 
 defires them only that he may ufe them. The queftion is, 
 how they are to be ufed ? I fay, they cannot be ufed ac 
 all, unlefs they arc parted with. But fome men part 
 with them for one purpofe, and fome for another. Our 
 Saviour, who knew bed how they ought to be expended, 
 extols the wifdom of giving them away. But the world 
 cannot fee wherein the happinefs of fuch a difpofal con- 
 fifts ; and the truth is, our Saviour does not mean we 
 lliould part with them for nothing, but only that we 
 Ihouid traffick with them for better things than this world 
 can exchange for them. It were better indeed for many 
 a man to throw his riches into the fea, than either to, keep 
 or abufe them, as he does. But our Mafter, who trufts 
 us with any fhare of his treafures, propofes to us a wifer 
 and more profitable application of" them, than this, or 
 even than laying them out on fenfual pleafures, or worldly 
 grandeur. This he exprelTes, by the blefiednefs or happi- 
 nefs of giving, as fuperior to that of receiving. The 
 text acknowleges an happinefs in the one, as well as in the 
 other, but gives the preference to the firft. Let us fee 
 what each confifts in, that we may the better apprehend 
 his reafons for a preference, fo little likely to be feconded 
 by the world. 
 
 As a man may be prefented, either with what is barely 
 neceflary to his natural wants, or with what the acquired 
 wants of avarice, ambidon, or luxurious appetites, may 
 crave -, fo his happinefs muft bear proportion to the great- 
 nefs of thofe wants, fo relieved, and to the degree of re- 
 lief afforded. 
 
 Now, in relieving the diftrefles of the poor, or fuch 
 as ^rp naturally in want, the pleafure or comfort of th^ 
 
 E e 3 receiver,, 
 
422 He only faves^ who wifely gives away, 
 
 receiver, being proportioned to the degree of relief, is 
 feldom perfeft ; becaufe the relief is ufually too much 
 ftinted to remove his wants intirely. And as he is not at 
 prefent fully fupplied, fo he cannot help apprehending 
 the danger of being foon again in as great want as ever. 
 Befides, if ihe borrower is fervant to the lender^ the re- 
 ceiver, in this cafe, muft be ftill more inferior to, and de^ 
 pendent on the giver. If he hath any pride or fpirit 
 (and who hath not ?) this will give him proportionable 
 uneafinefs, which, together with his fears as to future 
 fupplies, will confiderably leflen the fatisfaiftion he finds 
 in the prefent. From hence it may appear, that a poor 
 man, thus relieved, is far enough from being in a very 
 blefled or happy condition ; although it is fome degree of 
 happinefs to him, that he feels his prefent neceflity lefs 
 ienfibly than he did. 
 
 On the other hand, the unnatural wants, proceeding 
 from a covetous, an ambitious, or a luxurious turn of 
 mind, are always infatiable, and therefore can never be 
 fully relieved. If one plain dilh will not fatisfy a man, 
 neither will two, nor ten, unlefs they are of the mod 
 fumptuous and delicious kinds. If a coarfe coat will not 
 content him, neither will a fiae one, unlefs it is laced. 
 If an eftate of fifty pounds a year is not fufficient for 
 him, it is in vain to give him one of an hundred, or a 
 thouiand ; it is in vain to prefent him with a lordfliip, or 
 a kingdom. The whole world would be too little to 
 make him happy. It is found, by univerfal experience, 
 that, in all men of this kind, every additional gratification 
 is but an incentive to new and greater defires. All the 
 happinefs then of fuch a receiver confifts in a fhort fit of 
 pleafure, immediately devoured by wants, ten times greater 
 than the former. 
 
 The happinefs of the giver muft be very moderate in- 
 deed, not to outweigh that of the receiver in either of thefe 
 inftarices. But what his happinefs is we fhall now pro- 
 ceed to fliew, by opening thole better treafures, which our 
 Saviour invites him to purchafe with the fuperfluities of 
 his worldly wealth. 
 
 ' Tq 
 
He only faves^ ivho wifely gives away, 423 
 
 To maice a man a giver, in our Saviour's meaning, he 
 muft have a lively fenfe of humanity and religion. With- 
 out either or both of thefe, he is not likely to be a confi- 
 derable giver, at Icaft to the poor -, to the relief of whom 
 I lliall confine myfelf in what I intend to fay further on 
 this fubject. 
 
 Of all the men in this world, there is none who bids To 
 fair for happinefs here, as he who is bleffed both with 
 wealth and true humanity. But when I faid, blefled with 
 wealth, I needed not to have added, with humanity ; be- 
 caufe wealth without it is a curfe of the fevereft kind. 
 Every man enjoys his riches according to his fenfe of thefe 
 fatisfadions, that may be purchafed with them. The 
 man of pleafure lays out his wealth on wine and women ; 
 but fhame, guilt, and difeafes, prove him in the end a 
 lofing purchafer. The man of grandeur lays out his on 
 figure ; but finds, in the conclufion, he hath been all his 
 life only treating the mob of gapers, at an immenfe ex- 
 pence, with a vain and fenfelefs pageant. The covetous 
 Jays out his to bring in more -, but finds, when he is a 
 dying, that he never had any •, that he was always a beg- 
 gar; and that, wife and felfifh as he thought himfelf, he 
 neverthelefs fpent his miferable days in labouring for an- 
 other, who hovers over him in his laft moments with no 
 other fentiments than thofe of an hungry vulture, watch- 
 ing for the carcafe of a dying bead:. 
 
 The man of humanity plans his happinefs on a nobler 
 principle, which can neither deceive him in the progrels, 
 -nor difappoint him in the end ; a principle, which, con- 
 tinually exerted, gives him an high, an exquifite, and con- 
 tinual delight, and, at thelafl, entertains his departing foul, 
 with refledions as fweet as the mufic of angels. 
 
 This man, not content with doing juftice in his deal- 
 ings, to the reft of mankind, confiders them, through a 
 more elevated fenfe than that of honefty, as conntded 
 \vith him by the tender ties of one common nature. They 
 are bone of his hone, and flejh of his fleflj, and therefore 
 he feels what they feel, almofl as ienfibly, and much 
 more delicately, than he does that which immediately af- 
 ftcts his own body. With fuch fentiments, we are not 
 
 E c 4 . 10 
 
424 K^ ^^'^b fi''^^^-> "^^0 wifely gives away. 
 to wonder at his doing all a kind heart can do, to pre- 
 vent the diftrefles of all who live under him -, nor, hard 
 as our own hearts may be, are we to be furprifed, wheri 
 we fee him adminiflering fpecdy and plentiful relief, fo 
 far as his fortune enables him, to the wants of ail within 
 his knowlege. The man is in pain till he does it ; and 
 in raptures when it is done \ and why ? but becaufe the 
 poor n>an and he are fellow-creatures, are both of the 
 fame fpecies, and he owns it, he owns it in his fellow 
 feeling -, while the narrow-hearted mifer, and the proud 
 opprefifor, confefs it in words, which coft them nothing, 
 but deny it in every adion of their lives. 
 
 But does not his lenfe of humanity, which lays his heart 
 open to fo many fcenes of afflidion, make him mifera- 
 ble ? No : the good God, who formed this beneficent 
 heart by the lowly model of his own, while he blefTed 
 him with fuch an heart, blefled him at the fame time with 
 the power of turning his tendernefs into an happy inlet 
 for joys like thofe of his Maker, when infinite mercy and 
 pity (hower relief on the miferable. 
 
 If, however, the numbnefs of your own heart will not 
 fuffer you, at a fpeculative diflance, to conceive the hap- 
 pinefs this man taftes in relieving the poor, be prefent 
 with him (in cafe you do not care to make the experi- 
 ment on yourfelf) when he goes to the houfe of his poor 
 neighbour with the means of relief in his hands, and you 
 will then fee, whether it is folly in him to lay out what 
 he can fpare on his fingular fort of pleafure. You fee 
 him going to the gloomy abode, where want and mifery 
 have taken up their refidence, to prevent the application, 
 and relieve the anxiety, of his afRifled neighbour, before 
 he hath time to blufh for the nakednefs of his family. 
 You fee him fupplying the prefent neceffities of the fami- 
 ly i and, if the head of it is an honefl man, comforting 
 hirn with the hope of further help, giving courage to his 
 dejecled heart, and promifing to befriend him in all his 
 difiicukies for the future. Then you fee the poor man 
 raifing his drooping head, and, with eyes and hands lifted 
 to heaven, you hear him befeeching God to pour his 
 nch-fl: bleffin^s on his deliverer. Grief, fear, defpair, 
 
 prefeni 
 
He only Jave^^ ivho wtfely gives away, 42^ 
 
 prefent themfelves as the good man enters •, but, as if he 
 were the angel of God, he leaves in their place, when he 
 goes out, hope, comfort, and joy. Tell me, for I fpcak 
 to thine heart, if thou haft an heart of flelh, do you not 
 think this an happy man ? Do you underftand that dew on 
 on his cheek ? Can you enter into the fpirit from whence it 
 fprings ? Do you think his tears proceed from forrow, or 
 from a confcious tendernefs, which makes him partaker in 
 the relief of his neighbour ? Is it in the power of mufic, 
 think you, to falute your ears with a found fo ravifhing, as 
 the prayers of his poor neighbour are to his ? Could the 
 fplendor of a throne, or of the higheft earthly magnificence, 
 all your own, greet your eyes with a fight fo pleafing, fo 
 glorious, as the change wrought by chanty in the heart and 
 countenance of his fellow- creature appears in the eyes of 
 this friend to rnankind ? Can a French cook drefs up fuch 
 a morfel as this ? Can the wines of Greece or Hungary give 
 fuch a tranfport to the fpirits ? Can beauty, fallacious 
 beauty ! afford a pleafure, fo high, fo pure, fo lafting, as 
 this ? I hope you are an human creature, and do not 
 think they can. No : this inftance will be found to verify 
 the words of our Saviour. The receiver, who, with all 
 his family, were faved from perifhing for want of bread, 
 is not fo bleffed, is not fo happy, as the giver, who 
 brought the feafonable means of relief. The joy of the 
 receiver was not higher in its firft tranfport, than that of 
 the giver. The joy of the receiver was but for a time, 
 and cannot go with him beyond the grave -, but the joy 
 of the giver will accompany him through every period of 
 life, will footh his foul in the pangs of death, and {pt an 
 additional jewel in his eternal crown. 
 
 Did the wealthy, inflead of beftowing their alms in 
 churches, and at a diftance from the objeds to be relieved, 
 make it their bufinefs perlonally to vifit the prifons, and 
 the wretched cottages of the poor, to view the miferable 
 beds they languifh life away on, to examine the fcanty 
 quantity, and the difagreeable or unwholfome qualities, 
 of the food wherewith they endeavour to protraft an un- 
 happy life, there would be no need of dunning difcourfes 
 like this j their charity would flow in more unftinted 
 
 il reams 
 
426 He 07ily faves, who wifely gives away. 
 
 ftreams of relief to their fellow-creatupes, and of joy to 
 themfelves, than can be hoped for, while the diftrefles of 
 the poor are as remote from their knowlege, as their riot 
 and luxury are from that of the poor. 
 
 Men feek for fatisfadion and honour by their expcnces ; 
 but foolifhiy calculate them for the gratification of low 
 appetites and inordinate affedlions, that crave the more, 
 the more they are indulged, and never afford a pure, a 
 folid, or lalling pleafure. Their fortunes are fwallowed 
 up and loft in thefe; while in the mean time they fcarcely 
 fo much as know, that they have others of an higher and 
 better turn, which, if fuffered to operate, would enoble 
 their nature with the dignity, and blefs their lives with 
 the happinefs, of angels. 
 
 Is it not a fliame, a reproach to the underftanding of 
 a rational creature, to fee a great fum glittering idly in a 
 jewel, or funk in an expenfive fuit of cloaths, which, if 
 unfolded by charity, might be fufficient to proteft fifty 
 human creatures from the cold of this untoward climate ? 
 
 Why is the houfe of this wealthy man, who is not fix 
 feet high, large enough to contain an hundred elephants ; 
 while fo many dwellings round him, are hardly fit for the 
 habitation of fwine ? 
 
 Why is his table covered with coftly difhes, and ex- 
 penfive liquors, the provocatives of pride and luft-, while 
 hundreds of his poor neighbours pine away with hunger, 
 and look black in the face, for want of bread ? Why does 
 he gorge, while they ftarve ? Why is his fickly appetite 
 furfeitcd with one taftelefs meal, before another is half- 
 digefted, while his fenfe of humanity is mortified with 
 a perpetual faft ? O fhameful felf- denial, fit only for 
 him, who worfhips the enemy of human happinefs ! The 
 narrow heart hath a narrow fphere of enjoyment, and ga- 
 thers all it can about itfelf, as if it could enjoy whatfo- 
 ever it hinders others from enjoying. It bids mankind 
 (land at a diftance, while it vainly courts its fine cloaths, 
 or its great houfe, or its fumptuous table, for pleafures 
 that are either only imaginary, or brutal. 
 
 But the heart, that is opened and inlarged by humanity, 
 hath an infinitely wider fcope of enjoyment. Having laid 
 
 CUE 
 
He only faves, who wifely gives away, 427 
 
 6ut on Itfelf what is fufficient for a comfortable fubfiftenco 
 it does not fuffer the fuperfluity to loiter idly near itfelf, 
 but generoufly difperfcs it among fuch as are in need, and 
 fo enjoys it in all the poor families of the neighbourhood. 
 A man with fuch an heart feels double the fatisfaftion 
 from this enjoyment at rebound, that he does in what is 
 exnended immediately on himfelf: For that which he 
 fwallows himfelf, only gratifies his palate -, whereas that 
 wherewith he feeds the poor, touches him through a more 
 refined and exalted fenfe, tranfports his heart, and gives 
 a rapture to his very foul. He taftes with the palate of 
 the hungry, and feeds through a thoufand appetites. His 
 whole life is a feaft of love, in which there is hardly a 
 day, wherein he does not feel, by fome fweet experiment, 
 that a is more hlejfed to give, than to receive. 
 
 When we exprefs our amazement at the too general un- 
 wiUingnefs in people of fortune to relieve the diftreffes of 
 the poor, what we wonder at, as unnatural, is vulgarly 
 accounted for, by faying, felf-intereft is flronger than cha- 
 nty, and prevails on the wealthy to be kind to themfelves, 
 rather than others. But this can never leflen the furprize 
 of the good-natured, whofe bowels of companion tell 
 him, felf can no way be fo fweetly gratified, nor fo fen- 
 fibly confulted, as by afts of charity. 
 
 The pleafure however of giving, like men, is not the 
 only felf intereft we have in fupplying the neceflities of 
 the poor ; we have another, as Chriftians, of infinitely 
 more importance to us, founded on the power annexed to 
 a6ls of charity in promoting our eternal welfare. 
 
 By the laws of men, the wealth we are polTefled of is 
 fo intirely our own, that we may difpofc of it as we 
 pleafe. But we are neverthekfs accountable to God, the 
 giver, for the difburfement of all we have. If the Lord 
 giveth us wealth, or, which is the fame thing, the power 
 to get wealth, we cannot rationally fuppofe, a God of 
 infinite wifdom intended fo much for one back, or belly, 
 fio larger than thofe of other men. Neither can we fup- 
 pofe, a being fo infinitely good, could have defigned to 
 gratify the pride or gluttony of any man, by putting a 
 (oftune intq hi? hands, fq much too large for all his na- 
 
428 He only fwueSy who wifely gives away, 
 
 tural and reafonable demands. As thefe things cannot be 
 fuppofed, it follows, that the bulk of a rich man's pof- 
 feflions was intended for the fupport of others, not luffi- 
 ciently provided for by the ordinary difpenfations of Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 The rich man, being therefore the truftee, the trea- 
 furer, and the almoner, of Providence, muft give an ac- 
 count of his charge to the great Proprietor. It concerns 
 his confcience, as a fteward, to be trufly in the difburfe- 
 ment of his Mafter's treafures. If he wraps the talent, 
 committed to him, in a napkin -, or, what is worfe, if he 
 trades on it, in riot, and vice, for the enemy of God; he 
 may exptft to hear of it in the fentence pronounced on 
 him by that Judge, whofe goodnefs, as well as juftice, 
 makes him an auftere mafter in regard to the manage- 
 ment of what was intended for the relief of his poor. But, 
 in cafe he fliall be found to have dealt faithfully in his 
 truft, and difperfed judicioufly and liberally abroad, he 
 may expe6l a greater treafure, referved to honour his fide- 
 lity, and reward his fervices, in a better world ; and may 
 expeft to hear his fentence in thefe blefled words, Well 
 done, thou good and faithful fervant ; enter thou into the 
 joy of thy Lord. Confidered in this light, the rich man 
 cannot be honeft, without being charitable. 
 
 However, although in ftridlnefs he is only the truftee 
 of Providence, yet his Mafter, not content to honour 
 him with fo great a truft, gives him a kind of property 
 in the wealth committed to his charge, beftowing the 
 fpiritual produce of all the good he does with it, on him- 
 felf, and reckoning whatfoever he lays out on the relief 
 of the poor, as lent out of his own proper polTeflions. 
 And, left the rich man fhould doubt the fecurity of the 
 poor, God himfelf becomes bail for the repayment, by an 
 exprefs bond. He that hath pity upon the poor, lendeth 
 unto the Lord ; and look whatfoever he layeth out., it fhall 
 he paid him again. What an ungrateful infidel is he, 
 who will not venture all he can fpare on fuch a fecurity ! 
 If they, who have more than their own reafonable wants 
 require, will not give to man, let them at leaft lend to 
 God. The fecurity is fo certain, and ^he intereft fo very 
 
 high^ 
 
He only faves^ who wifely gives away. 42^ 
 high, that they muft be miferably wanting to thcmfelves,^ 
 if they do not advance all they can upon it. 
 
 But although it is enough for us to be told in general, 
 that God will repay all our charities; yet, as this glorious 
 Debtor hath, in his word, given us Ibme intimation of the 
 manner in which he purpoles to clear accounts with us, it 
 is worth our while to hear it ; becaufe, perhaps we fhould 
 be lefs inclinable to lend, if the coin, and time, in which 
 we are to be paid, were not particularly fpecified to us. 
 
 In the firft place, alms-giving brings a blefling on every 
 thing we enjoy, and cleanfes it for our ufe. Give alms 
 tf fuch things as you havcy and behold all things are clean 
 unto you. In the next place, it will procure for us divine 
 affiftancc and comfort, in time of ficknefs and trouble. 
 Blejfed is the man that confidereth the -poor \ the Lord will 
 deliver him in the time of trouble. The Lord will jirengthen 
 him upon the bed of languijhing : thou wilt jnake all his 
 bed in his ficknefs. In the third place, it obtains for us 
 the pardon of our fins. By mercy and truth iniquity is 
 purged. Break off thy fins by right eoufnefs^ faith Daniel 
 to Nebuchadnezzar, and thy iniquities ^ by fhewing mercy tet 
 the poor. In the fourth place, it is imputed to us for 
 righceoufnels. He, faith David, fpeaking of the charita- 
 ble man, hath difperfed abroad, he hath given to the poor ; 
 and his right eoufnefs remaineth forever. In the fifth place, 
 God promifes luftre to the charadler, health to the body, 
 fatnefs to the bones, diredlion to the ways, and fuccefs to 
 the prayers, of him who is companionate to the poor. 
 Is not this thefajl that I have chofen ? Is it not to deal thy 
 bread to the hungry^ and that thou bring the poor that are 
 cajl out to thy houfe ? When thou feef^ the naked, that thou. 
 cover him •, and that thou hide not thyfelf from thine own 
 flejh. Then fh all thy light break forth as the morning, and 
 thy health Jhall fpring forth fpeedily. — Then fh alt thou call^ 
 and the Lord fh all anfwer. — If thou draw out thy foul to 
 the hungry, and fatisfy the affii£ied foul, then Jhall thy light 
 rife in obfcurity •, — the Lord fhall guide thee continually, and 
 fatisfy thy foul in drought, and make fat thy bones ; and 
 thou floalt be like a watered garden, and like a fpring of 
 watery whofe waters fail not. In the laft place, an heaven- 
 ly 
 
43 o '^'^ (>^^b y^'^'^-fj '^^0 wifely gives away, 
 ly treafure Is promifed to the friend of the poor. Jf thou 
 wit be perfeSf, faith Chrift, fell that thouhafi, and give 
 to the poor, and thou jhalt have treafure in heaven. Let 
 not that man, from whom thefe glorious promifes can 
 extort nothing for the poor, dare to fay, he beUeves, or 
 is a Chriftian. 
 
 God preffes the duty of alms-giving on us in a yet 
 clofer and tenderer manner. He reprefcnts man as formed 
 after his own image, and calls us his children. Nay, 
 Chrift hath connected us to himfeif, and made us mem- 
 bers of that myftical body of which he is the head, and 
 for which he was content his natural body fhould be cru- 
 cified. Let us remember now, that the poor man is God*s 
 image, and a limb of Chrift ; and then afk ourfelves, how 
 we can bear to fee this reprefentative of God, this part of 
 our Redeemer's body, through which he feels fo fenfibly, 
 pining for want of thofe neceflaries, which a fmall re- 
 trenchment from our idle expences, or a few pieces from 
 that hoard of wealth we even mean not to ufe, could pro- 
 cure. As if the pity of the poor, and the love of God, 
 were the fame thing, he fays to us, Whofohath this world* s 
 good, and feeth his brother have need, and fhutteth up his 
 compajfton from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him ? 
 Let us not fay, we love our poor brother, if we fhew no 
 compaffion for him in his diftrefs. You are to be judged 
 by your adions, not your profeffions. If a brother or 
 Jtfler be naked, or deflitute of daily food ; and one of you 
 fay unto them, depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled ; 
 notwithfianding ye give them not thofe things that be need- 
 ful to the body ; what doth it profit ? Or what other pur- 
 pofe doth it ferve, than to fhew your contempt of your 
 fellow-creature, and to infult the majefty of his Maker ? 
 Neither let us fay we love God, fince we will do nothing 
 for his fake. It is an impudent lye, to fay, we love God, 
 whom we have not feen, if we ftiew no love, no pity, to 
 our poor diftreffed neighbours, whom we fee every day, 
 ftruggling, fome with old-age, others with numerous fa- 
 milies, others with ficknefs, others in confinement, others 
 under opprelTion, and all in want of the common neceffa- 
 ries of life. He gives an ill account of his piety, who is 
 
 hard- 
 
 > 
 
He only faves^ who wifely gives away. 431 
 
 hard-hearted and clofe-handed to the poor; for Chrift 
 makes no difference in this refpeft between himfelfand the 
 indigent. /, that is, the diftrefled and miferable, was 
 hungry, and you fed me not j was thirfty, and you gave me 
 no drink -, was naked, and you c loathed me not ; was fick 
 and in frifon, and you neither viftted nor comforted me. 
 It will be in vain to fay, JVe never faw thee in this con- 
 dition ; for Chrift hath faid already, and will fay it 
 again, when it muft be minded. If you do it not to one of 
 thefe little ones, you do it not to me. He, whofe heart is 
 fhut againft the poor, may afTure himfelf, the ears of God 
 are (hut againft all his apphcations. How can his prayers 
 foUicit for profperity, who confines all he gets to his own 
 life, and furfeits on that furplus of God's bounty, which 
 ought to be imparted to the poor? How can he thank 
 God for his wealth, who renders that wealth a curfe to 
 himfelf, by an unfaithful management of it, in refpeft to 
 God the Proprietor -, and a cruel detention of it from the 
 necefiitous, for whofe relief it was put into his hands ? 
 How can he fue for mercy from God, when calamity, 
 when fear, when death, comes upon him, and drives the 
 fting of guilr, through his confcience, into his foul, who 
 is deaf to the diftrefstul cries of his own flefh and blood, 
 of God's image, of Chrifts member, imploring relief 
 from miferies, too affeding for a feeling heart to bear the 
 very fight of in another ? Nothing can be more evident, 
 than that a want of pity for the poor cuts off all religious 
 communication between God and the hard-hearted. He 
 is indeed too unlike the fountain of all goodnefs and pity, 
 to leave room for any connexion with him ; infomuch 
 that, it is to be feared, the very mercy of God, which 
 opens a door of pardon to other finners, will fhut it 
 againft this, in whom the beft, the moft lovely refemblance 
 of man to God, is totally defaced. How can infinite 
 pity ftiew itfelf to an heart that hath no pity, that is fo 
 oppofite to itfelf? No : even mercy will plead againft 
 him, and give him lefs indulgence than juftice itfelf. 
 
 There is one hindrance to the kind of charity I have 
 been fpeaking of, which I cannot pafs over unnoticed oa 
 this occafion. Many perfons, otherwife well-affed;ed to 
 
 the 
 
4^2 He 07ily faves, who wifely gives away, 
 
 tke poor, find their hearts cooled, and fhut againft real 
 objefts of compaffion, by the grofs abufe of their good- 
 nefs, often fhewn to idlers and thieves, who put on the 
 appearance of diftrefs. This unhappy turn of mind pro- 
 ceeds, in a great meafure, from want of due circum- 
 fpeftion J for, did the rich, who are difpofed to alms- 
 giving, take care to diftinguilh the pretended from the 
 real objedt of charity, they would hardly ever make a 
 wrong application of their alms. The diftrefles of their 
 poor neighbours, which might be eafily examined into^ 
 ought, for the moft part, to engrofs their pity, and leave 
 little for fuch vagrants, as exercife a motely trade, made 
 up of begging, pilfering, and fharping* 
 
 But there is little or no room for this abufe of charity, 
 in its application to fuch alms-houfes, and public contri- 
 butions for the education or fupport of the poor, as have 
 been well confidered, and are faithfully managed. Again, 
 of all thefe contributions, none feems to bid fo fair for doing 
 good, as that which is intended for feeding, cloathing, and 
 inftrufting, poor children •, becaufc, in the firft place, 
 there can be no miftake about their wants, nor doubts of 
 their innocence ; and, in the next, whatfoever is given for 
 this ufe, is expended on a manageable kind of poor, 
 whom the donor at once relieves, and renders deferving 
 of relief. Other charities but in part remove a calamity, 
 after it hath been feverely felt for fome time j this pre- 
 vents it, by enabling the objefl to fupport himfelf. Other 
 alms bring afllftance only to the body •, this to both body 
 and foul. Other alms Ibpply a temporal neceflity, thisj 
 as far as human means can contribute to fo great an end, 
 provides for eternal happinefs. Other alms are generally 
 given to perfons, already rendered ufelefs to m'ankind, 
 who have little left about them that concerns fociety, but 
 a mouth and ftomach ; this beftows on the community 
 a number of ufeful hands, which otherwife might have 
 been idle, or employed in doing mifchief. Other alms 
 are often expended on fuch as we can only pity, becaufe re- 
 duced to poverty by floth, extravagance, or wickednefs ; 
 this on innocent creatures, whom we ought to pity, be- 
 caufe, in themfelves, they are altogether helplefs j and, 
 I for 
 
He only faveSy who wifely gives away. 433 
 
 for whom, we ought to feel the greateft tendemefs, be- 
 caufe God and nature have rendered them exceedingly- 
 lovely in our eyes, for that very purpofe. 
 
 Confider you, whom the prelent charitable occafion 
 hath aflembled, what it is you are called upon to do. It 
 is to take a number of yet innocent young creatures out 
 of the hands of natural corruption, of vile company, of 
 temptations to idlenefs, lying, debauchery, drunkennefs, 
 theft, robbery ; to turn them from a courfe that tends, 
 through vice and infamy, to the gallows and damnation, 
 and to lead them, as it were, by the hand, thro' a regular 
 courfe of education and good principles, to fuch a fcheme 
 of life, as is mod likely to be ufeful and happy here, and 
 to end in eternal peace with God. Confider this, and you 
 will want no other motive to contribute to the prefent 
 charity. 
 
 I choofe to touch but briefly on thefe confiderations, 
 important as they are, knowing that the tender and ge- 
 nerous minds of thofe who hear me, are this moment 
 pleading the fame caufe, with the eloquence of the heart, 
 which is ftronger than that of words. It is almoft need- 
 lefs to remind an aflembly, coUeded, as this is, out of 
 a people already diftinguifhed for their compafTion to the 
 poor, that the gracious Father of us all will doubly blefs 
 thofe in their own children, whofe compafTion extends 
 itfelf to the children of their poor neighbours ; or that a 
 man can hardly do any thing more acceptable in the 
 fight of Chrift, than to cherifli in his charitable arms, as 
 he did, thofe engaging objefts, fo full of amiable inno- 
 cence and fweet fimplicity, that we need nothing more, 
 in order to enter into the kingdom of heaven, than to 
 refemble them. 
 
 Should I take up more of your time in endeavouring 
 to foften your hearts into a tendemefs for human nature, 
 in its moil lovely, but moft helplefs, circumftances ; I 
 fhould but wrong you, who had never come hither, on 
 this occafion, had not your hearts been previoufly afFe(5led 
 with that very tendemefs, from generous fenfations, and 
 beneficent motives of their own. Give way to this noble 
 
 Vol. II. F f turn 
 
43 4 ^^ ^^b fi'^-^y '^'^^ wi/ely gives away. 
 turn of mind ; let your hands be as open as your hearts, 
 that God, who is looking on, may lee your pity ; and 
 the poor, who look up to you for relief, may tafte the 
 fruits of your compaffion, and add their prayers to yours 
 for every divine blefling on you, and all you love or pof- 
 fefs. 
 
 The cry of the poor, that afcends dally before God, 
 and draws his peculiar attention, returns in bleflings on 
 the liberal hand, and in judgments on the hard heart. 
 Whofoever would choofe MeJJing, rather than curjing, lei 
 him not turn his face from the poor man^ and then the 
 face of the Lord fhall not he turned away from him, when 
 he becomes poor himfelf, and deftitute of righteoufnefs to 
 recommend him, fhall beg and fue for mercy at the hour 
 of death, and in the day of judgment. Let him provide 
 for the fick and needy, that the Lord may preferve him 
 alive y and hlefs him upon the earth. Let him deliver the 
 poor that cries, and the fatherlefs^ and him that hath none 
 10 help him •, let him be eyes to the blind, and feet to the 
 lame, and a father to the poor •, the caufe that he knows 
 not, let him fearch it out ; let him break the jaws of the 
 wicked, and pluck the fpoil out of his teeth, that the hlef 
 fing of him zvho was ready to perifh may come upon him, 
 and that the widow* s heart may fing for joy. Let him re- 
 folutely plead the caufe of the helplefs, without hire •, and 
 generoufly (land between him and his perfecutors of all 
 kinds, cold, hunger, and oppreffion ; and, for his re- 
 ward, he (hall not want an Advocate to plead an infinitely 
 more important caufe for him, againft his own fins, and 
 the acculations of his enemy. 
 
 Shall one man cry out in anguilh and mifery, and an- 
 other not feel } Shall one neighbour lee another finking 
 under afflidion, and not flretch out his hand to fupport 
 him? Shall one fiiiver with cold, and there be none to 
 cloath him ? Shall another pine away with hunger, and 
 there be none to feed him, of all thofe whole fortunes 
 enable them to riant in finery, and furfeit in luxury ? Shall 
 the poor call out for help, and humanity refufe it ? Shall 
 God fue [or a fhare oi his own, and religion give him a 
 
 denial ? 
 
 1 
 
He only fanjes, *who wifely gives away, 43 c 
 
 denial ? Shall heaven be fet to fale for a mite, and there 
 be none found to purchafe ? 
 
 Thefe things fhall not, cannot be, if there is the leall 
 remains of companion towards men, or love towards God, 
 or fenfe of our greateft intereft, left among us. If the 
 rich, who never felt the extremities of cold or hunger, 
 could conceive what they are, and fuppofe themfelves in 
 the places of the poor, they would be more ready to con- 
 form themfelves to the royal law, and to do as they would 
 be done by. But, though they have never been in this 
 fort of diftrefs, have they not eyes ? Can they not fee the 
 houfes of the poor, open to every injury of the weather ; 
 their wretched beds of ftraw, to which Heep and reft mufl 
 be ftrangers ; their tattered cloaths, hardly fufficient for 
 decency -, their fcanty meal of taftelefs and unwholfome 
 trafh ; their faces pale, and worn to the bone, for want 
 of bread ; their languid eyes, funk deep into their heads, 
 and dimmed, as it were, with the fhadows of death ? Can 
 they not hear the cries of their ftarving children, re- 
 echoed, in a melancholy concert, by the groans of pa- 
 rents, enfeebled, to an impoflibility of affording help, by 
 wantof nourifhment, or by diftempers, perhaps by both. 
 If they can fee and hear thefe things, have they not bow- 
 els to tell them, this is mifery ? Or have they neither 
 bowels nor confcience, to roufe them to the relief of this 
 mifery, fuffered by their poor fellow-creature, the creature 
 of that God who gave them all their wealth ? 
 
 I know the good-natured heart that hears me, not only 
 pardons the pains 1 take on this moft affed'ting fubjed:, 
 but melts at every touch of a difcourfe like this, and wifhes 
 for one of more power in fpeaking, who could force a 
 pafTage to hearts lefs fenfible and tender. I wiH not apo- 
 logize for what 1 have faid to the man of humanity, be- 
 caufe his goodnefs fuperfedes the necefTity of recommend- 
 ing the poor to his compaffion. And as for the hard and 
 the infenfible, for whom, I own, this difcourfe was in- 
 tended, he will hear my apology, and know my reafons 
 for thus fpeaking, when his poor brother and he meet 
 before the throne of God. 
 
 Ff 2 In 
 
43<^ H^ onlyfaves, who wifely gives away. 
 
 In the mean time, let us bcfeech the good God to take 
 from us the heart of Jione^ and to give us one of flejh, 
 that may feel the diftrefles of our fellow-creatures, for the 
 fake of Chrift Jefus our Redeemer ; to whom, with God 
 the Father of the poor, and God the Guardian and Com- 
 forter of the afflifted, be all might, majefty, dignity, 
 and dominion, now, and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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