:
་
محمد
ARTES
1817
LIBRARY
VERITAS
SCIENTIA
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
S PLUNTRUS VAL
TUEBOR
QUERIS PENINSULAM AMKI NAM
CIRCUMSPICE
SELECT
4.
PRACTICAL WORKS
OF
REV. JOHN HOWE,
AND
DR. WILLIAM BATES.
COLLECTED AND ARRANGED, WITH BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES,
BY JAMES MARSH,
PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VERMONT.
NEW YORK:
G. & C. & H. CARVILL.
BURLINGTON:
CHAUNCEY GOODRICH.
1830.
DISTRICT OF VERMONT, TO WIT:
BE it remembered, that on the sixth day of May, in the fifty-
L.Sfourth year of the Independence of the United States of
America, CHAUNCEY GOODRICH, of the said District, hath de-
posited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof he
claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit:
"Select Practical Theology of the Seventeenth Century, comprising the best
Practical works of the great English Divines, and other congenial authors of
that age. Collected and arranged, with biographical sketches and occasional
notes, by JAMES MARSH, President of the University of Vermont. In five Vol-
umes. Vol. I. containing The blessedness of the Righteous, and the Vanity of
Man as Mortal, by the REV. JOHN HOWE, and Discourses on the Four Last
Things, by DR. WM, BATES."
In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled
"An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of Maps,
Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the
times therein mentioned."
JESSE GOVE,
Clerk of the District of Vermont.
A true Copy of Record. Examined and sealed by me,
J. GOVE, Clerk.
CHAUNCEY GOODRICH, Printer, Burlington, Vt.
7-7-41 (5
English
are
4-15-41
43042
CONTENTS.
PREFACE BY THE EDITOR,
BIOGRAPHY OF THE REV. JOHN HOWE, BY THE EDITOR,
TO THE REAder,
THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS,
Dedication,
THE VANITY OF MAN AS MORTAL,
•
BIOGRAPHY OF DR. WILLIAM BATES, BY THE EDITOR,
DEDICATION,
THE FOUR LAST THINGS.-Of Death,
OF ETERNAL Judgment,
OF HEAVEN,
OF HELL,
•
·
PAGE.
iii.
ix.
3.
11.
. 261.
267.
317.
325.
329.
389.
439.
529.
PREFACE.
The general object aimed at, in republishing the works here-
with offered to the public, is sufficiently obvious, and, it is hoped,
will meet the approbation of every enlightened christian. Ef-
forts, before unexampled in the history of the church, are made,
at the present time, to promote the diffusion of the scriptures;
and we hope soon, by the blessing of God, to be assured, that
this most important means of grace and of spiritual improvement
has been brought to the threshold of every family throughout
our extended country. But, although we hold, as all protestants
profess to do, that the Word of God is alone a sufficient rule of
faith and practise, and though it might be wished, that every
christian would so read and contemplate its instructions, as to
need no other aid; experience teaches us, that even in the most
enlightened communities, other aids are thought necessary and
resorted to. Most christians not only depend on their appointed
spiritual guide to explain to them the truths of the gospel, but
in their most retired and serious hours of meditation upon those
truths seek assistance from the meditations of others.
Nor can
it be doubted, indeed, that men of undisciplined minds are es-
sentially benefited by such recourse to works judiciously pre-
pared to aid their reflections, and may thereby elevate their de-
votional feelings and enlarge their views of spiritual things be-
yond what they would be able to do by their own unassisted ef-
forts. Works of this kind have been produced in greater or less
abundance, and with different degrees of excellence, in almost
every age of the Church; and it needs but little consideration
to be convinced, that they must exert an influence in the reli-
gious education of the community, scarcely inferior to the in-
structions of the pulpit itself. If such be the fact, it becomes a
matter of practical importance to make a wise selection of such
works, as are best fitted in this way to promote the spiritual im-
provement of christians, and to bring them, as far as may be, to
the knowledge of the public and into general use. In contem-
plating the character and productions of the Church, in former
periods of its history, and comparing them with those of our own
age, it becomes us, as far as possible, to recall whatever of good
iv
PREFACE.
has fallen into disuse or been superseded by what is inferior, to
make the labors of the past contribute to the improvement of the
present and the future, and thus, as successive generations pass
away and their works follow them, endeavor to "hold fast that
which is good," to gather and treasure up the choicest "fruits of
the spirit." We cannot however suppose, that all christians
would agree in their judgment of the merits of different works,
or would be guided by the same taste in making a selection of
this kind, and it may be proper to state more definitely the views,
by which I have been determined in the choice of materials for
these volumes, and the general character of the treatises which
they will contain.
In examining the practical and devotional works, which have
been published and most generally circulated during the last cen-
tury, there has seemed to me and to many others, in whose
judgment I confide, to be a great deficiency of depth and spirit-
uality. Instead of aiding reflection and meditation, and guiding
the humble christian to a spiritual acquaintance with the things
of the spirit, to a knowledge of "the deep things of God," and
thus carrying him in his contemplations among those appropriate
objects of faith and spiritual discernment, "which eye hath not
seen nor ear heard," they too often tend rather to produce low
and narrow conceptions of those objects themselves, and to limit
the aspirations of the mind to attainments far short of our duty
and our happiness. Many of them, too, are designed with refer-
erence to the peculiarities of this or that scheme of theology,
and have more influence to awaken a speculative and controver-
sial disposition of mind, than to cherish a contemplative spirit, and
fix the thoughts on those great and undisputed truths, which are,
after all, most effectual in promoting spiritual growth.
-
Again, in contemplating the religious character of the present
age, and of our own churches, with much to admire and to be
thankful for in the spirit of active benevolence, which pervades
them, we find not a little to regret in the superficial and inade-
quate views, which prevail, with regard to the nature of the
Christian system, and in the want of that profound love of truth
for the truth's sake, which ought to characterize the enlightened
christian. We need more of that intense and sustained interest
in the truths and aims of religion, of that earnest seeking after
knowledge and personal holiness, which, during the 17th centu-
ry not only secured the attention, but lent a fascination, to ser-
mons and other religious exercises of such length and in such
style, as could not now be hazarded even by the most able and
popular preacher. It is in a word the clear conviction of many,
who are well qualified to judge in matters of this sort, that while.
we are carrying into effect some of the benevolent principles and
external duties of Christianity with a degree of enterprise and
success, for which the age immediately succeeding the Reforma-
PREFACE.
V
tion was unprepared, we at the same time fall far below
christians of that period in their sublime views of religious truth,
the extent and intimacy of their habitual intercourse with the
great objects of spiritual contemplation, and in the consistent ele-
vation and dignity of their christian character. If these views
have any foundation in truth, it is an object worthy of the atten-
tion and the serious efforts of those who labor for the interests
of true religion, to put again in circulation among us such works.
of that age, as are best calculated to exhibit and to reproduce the
characteristics, in which it so much excelled.
The treatises contained in these volumes, though they may not
in all cases be the best, that it would be possible under more fa-
vorable circumstances to select, it is hoped may prove a valuable
contribution to the object in view, and prepare the way among
those, who have the means of obtaining them, for a more exten-
sive acquaintance with the writers of a period prolific in works of
this class. I have endeavored, as far as it could be done, to con-
fine the selection to what is purely practical and spiritual, and to
avoid the introduction of any thing, that could be suspected of a
design to favor the peculiarities of a party. In saying this, how-
ever, I would not be understood to mean, that no sentiments or
views of religious truth will be expressed or implied, but those
in which the advocates of all our various systems are agreed. It
would probably be impossible to find a single treatise in the lan-
guage of any value, of which this would be true. But, although
in a work of a practical nature, a writer may introduce, and al-
most unavoidably will betray, more or less clearly the speculative
system which he holds, he may not introduce it for speculative
and controversial purposes, or make such use of it, as essentially
to injure the practical utility of his work for those, who hold a dif-
ferent system.
The most general criterion of the class of works, from which
the selection is made is, that they are designed not to investigate
or defend the truth, but to excite and elevate the mind to the
contemplation of truths, which both the writer and reader are
supposed to admit, or which commend themselves at once to the
reason of all men. It is the great excellence, if I mistake not, of
the writers from whom I have selected, that their minds were
raised above the narrow peculiarities of a speculative system by
a more habitual contemplation of the great fundamental truths of
reason and revelation. They had formed themselves, and aimed
to form others, to the habit of intense and earnest reflection up-
on their own moral and spiritual being. They retired inward
in order to ascend upward. They sought, not so much to
gratify the pride of the understanding, by attempts to comprehend
what is placed beyond its reach, as to make a direct and practical
application of the acknowledged law and will of God to their own
inward being, that they might experience their assimilating and
vi
PREFACE.
transforming influence. In their works designed for the aid of
others in their spiritual improvement, although theological views
of questionable authority are sometimes introduced and language
employed, as it is indeed in some of the treatises in these vol-
umes, which few if any writers of the present day would adopt,
they need not, and, for a serious christian of candid and tolerant
disposition, I should presume would not, much affect the influ-
ence of the more general and admitted truths with which they
are associated.
In general I believe it will be felt, and acknowledged by all,
who become acquainted with these writers, that they possess a
depth and spirituality, which does not belong to the writers who
have succeeded them, and that such a selection from their writ-
ings, as is here offered to the public, cannot fail, if generally
circulated, to be a great and lasting benefit to our Churches.
Could these and similar treatises gain such acceptance and such
influence, as they would seem calculated to secure in a commu-
nity like ours, they might be hoped to introduce along with them a
more truly rational, a more elevated, and manly style of think-
ing and writing on subjects both of religion and philosophy.
In preparing them for the press I have made no alterations in
the works selected, which in any way affects the views of the
writer. The orthography, where it was obsolete, is modernized,
and occasionally a note omitted, when unnecessary to explain the
text of the work. My design has been in every case to publish
entire treatises, and this will not probably be varied from. If in
any instance in the subsequent volumes it should be thought best
to vary from it, the reasons for doing so will be explained.
The biographical notices inserted will in general be brief, as
they are not expected to possess any other value, than merely
to gratify the general curiosity, that is felt to know something of
the authors, whose works we read and admire. I hardly need
to say, that in judging of the men of that age and of their works,
no regard will be had to the party distinctions, which then pre-
vailed with so much animosity, and which even to our own
times too often influence our judgment respecting them. The
individuals indeed, whether churchmen or dissenters, of whom
I shall have occasion to speak, are for the most part such, as
amidst all the violence of the times stood aloof, as far as possible,
from the interests of party, and aimed at those great objects, in
which all good men might unite. No candid descendant and fol-
lower of the Puritans will at this day less cordially admire Leigh-
ton, or be less benefited by his writings, because he was an Arch-
bishop, nor will any rational and temperate churchman allow
himself to indulge a prejudice against the character and the
works of such a man as John Howe, because he was the chap-
lain of the Cromwells, and could not take the oath of conformity.
Men of this stamp were even then, however divided by party
PREFACE.
vii
in their public relations, not unfrequently personal, and some-
times intimate friends, mutually lamenting the causes, that pre-
vented their christian fellowship. The great characteristic prin-
ciples, the sublime philosophical views, the true spirituality and
aloofness from all narrow and secular views, which belong in
common to many of the writings of men belonging to each of the
two parties, show in a striking manner, how far the essential
spirit of religion is elevated above the interests and opinions,
with which it is too often associated. That these volumes may
be instrumental in cherishing the same spirit among the churches
of our land, enlarging their views of divine truth, building
them up in the most holy faith, and imparting to them abundant-
ly, the riches of spiritual understanding, is the earnest wish and
prayer of
THE EDITOR.
BIOGRAPHY
OF THE
REV. JOHN HOWE.
1
In giving such a sketch of the life and character of the Rev.
John Howe, as corresponds with the plan of this work, I can
hardly hope to satisfy the curiosity respecting him, which the fol-
lowing treatises will excite. The history of his life, indeed, was
such as might have furnished materials for a biography excelling
in its general interest that of most literary men and theological
writers even of the first rank in talents and reputation. The dis-
tinguished literary men with whom he was intimately connect-
ed, at a most interesting period in the history of English literature
and philosophy, and, more especially, the place which he held for
so long a time at the court of the Cromwells, must have given
him the means of preparing a "memoir of his own life and
times," not less instructive than any other work of the kind
which that age has furnished. I mention this, because it
appears that he accumulated a mass of papers for an object of this
sort, but unfortunately for us, when near his death, required his son
to commit them to the flames. The memoirs of his life, collected
by Calamy and contained in the folio edition of his works, though
scanty and unsatisfying, still contain much that is valuable, and
nearly all that can now be known of one of the greatest men of
the age in which he lived.
The Rev. John Howe was born at Loughborough, in Leicester-
shire, May 17, 1630. His father was for sometime the minister
of the town, a man of great piety and worth, and his mother is
mentioned as a woman of distinguished abilities, whose influence
was undoubtedly much felt in forming the character of her son.
While he was yet very young his father, who had received the
parish of Loughborough from Archbishop Laud, was ejected for
siding with the Puritans, and went into Ireland with his family.
After residing here for some time, and narrowly escaping with
their lives during the rebellion of the Papists, the family returned
and settled in Lancaster, where the subject of this memoir recei-
VOL. I.
B
X
BIOGRAPHY OF
ved his early education and was prepared for the university. He
first entered at Christ's College, Cambridge, in what year is un-
certain, though it must have been at a very early age, as he took
his degree and removed to Brazen Nose College, Oxford, as early
as 1648, when he was but 18 years of age. Here, in the next
year, he was admitted to the same degree of Bachelor of Arts,
which he had taken at Cambridge, was not long after elected a
fellow of Magdalen College, and took the degree of M. A. in
1652.
Soon after taking his second degree, Mr. Howe returned to
the county in which his family resided, and was ordained, by Mr.
Charles Herle, in what he considered the primitive mode of or-
dination, believing, as he said, that Mr. Herle was a scriptural
bishop, and that the concurrence of the ministers, who assisted
him, was the laying on of the hands of the Presbytery. Being
now regularly devoted to the labors of the ministry, he was soon
called to a distant part of the island, and settled as pastor of a
congregation at Great Torrington in Devonshire. Here he de-
voted himself with unsparing labor and zeal and with great suc-
cess to the duties of his office, and acquired the respect and con-
fidence of the neighboring churches and clergy. Among the lat-
ter he became particularly intimate in the family of Mr. George
Hughes of Plymouth, the most distinguished minister in those
parts, and married his daughter March 1, 1654, a connexion which
resulted it seems to his great happiness, and which he never had
occasion to regret.
It could not have been long after this event, that his situa-
tion and sphere of usefulness were suddenly and unexpect-
edly changed. Having occasion to go to London, on busi-
ness, he was detained longer than he expected, and being
there on the Sabbath gratified his curiosity by going to the chap-
el at Whitehall. While there," Cromwell, who," as Calamy
observes, "
generally had his eyes everywhere, spied out Mr.
Howe in the auditory, knew him by his garb to be a country
minister, and thinking he discerned something more than ordin-
ary in his countenance, sent a messenger to him to desire to
speak with him, when the worship of God was over." Such was
his introduction to Cromwell, and the result of it was, that, not-
withstanding his surprise and his efforts to excuse himself, his ob-
jections were overruled, and after preaching two or three times
before the Protector, and much free conversation in private, he
was at length prevailed upon, though with great reluctance, to
leave his charge at Torrington, which Cromwell undertook to
have supplied to their satisfaction, and became established as do-
mestic chaplain, at the seat of government.
In this most trying and critical situation, considering the char-
acter of the times, Mr. Howe continued till the death of Crom-
well, and through the protectorate of his son, exhibiting many
REV. JOHN HOWE.
xi
examples of that prudence, moderation and good will to all par-
ties, so necessary in his circumstances, both for his usefulness and
his personal tranquillity. Several instances are mentioned, in
which he employed his influence with the court for the benefit of
those who differed from him in their views of church and state, and
among the rest, in 1657, Dr. Seth Ward, afterwards bishop of Ex-
eter. As a proof of his disinterestedness, and that he used his
influence more for others, than for himself, it is related that
Cromwell once said to him," Mr. Howe, you have obtained ma-
ny favors for others, I wonder when the time is to come, that
you will ask any thing for yourself or your own family." So lit-
tle of the courtier had he indeed, that on one occasion he preach-
ed expressly against a favorite notion of Cromwell's respecting
particular faith in prayer, and was supposed to have produced a
coolness between himself and the Protector by so doing. Crom-
well however had too high a value for his integrity and too much
good sense to break with him for such a cause.
During the protectorate of Richard, Mr. Howe, assisted with
Dr. Owen, and other leaders of the same persuasion, at the meet-
ing of the Independents at the Savoy, in October, 1658. It was
here that, with unexpected unanimity, they agreed upon articles
of faith; which, however, were afterwards silently abandoned for
the Assembly's Catechism.
On the removal of Richard Cromwell, Mr. Howe returned to
his former charge at Torrington, and continued his labors in
peace, till some months after the restoration. He was informed
against for preaching seditious and treasonable sentiments, in Oc-
tober, 1660; but, proving his innocence, was discharged, and con-
tinued to preach to his people till the act of uniformity went into
effect, Aug. 24, 1662. On that day he took a final leave of his
congregation at Torrington, in a farewell sermon and parting ad-
dresses, deeply affecting to his congregation. Being now ejected
from consecrated walls, he preached occasionally in the houses
of his friends; but, a citation being out against him, he was obliged
to desist, and seems to have been saved from further trouble from
the citation by Dr. Ward, now bishop of Exeter, who it will be
recollected had formerly been under obligations to Mr. Howe. In
1665 he took the oath under the "five mile act," but was still obli-
ged to shift from place to place in order to avoid persecution, and it
is supposed by his biographer, though he could not ascertain the
circumstances of it, was imprisoned for two months, during the
same year, in the isle of St. Nicholas. He still continued among
his friends in the western counties, rendering himself as useful as
the times would permit, and, while in this unsettled state, publish-
ed, in 1668, the treatise on "the Blessedness of the Righteous,"
the substance of which it seems had been preached in a course
of sermons at Torrington.
Being now out of regular employment, with a family dependen-
xii
{
}
BIOGRAPHY OF
dent on him, he accepted an invitation in the year 1671, to re-
move to Ireland, and lived as chaplain to Lord Massarene in An-
trim. Here he enjoyed the respect and confidence of all, the
Metropolitan and Bishop of the diocese requiring no conformity,
but giving him leave to preach in the pulpits under their control.
During the first year of his residence here he published the dis-
course on "the Vanity of man as mortal," which, with the trea-
tise before mentioned, is contained in this volume.
Mr. Howe continued at Antrim till December, 1675, when he
was invited to take charge of a congregation in London, made
vacant by the death of Dr. Seaman, a non-conformist divine. In
this charge he continued till 1685, and, during this period, was
much occupied, beside his regular employment as pastor, with
the public interests of the dissenters, as well as some controver-
sial discussions on doctrinal subjects, and published many both of
his larger and smaller works. During much of the time, howev-
er, his situation was rendered unquiet by the spirit of persecu-
tion, so that he sometimes could not walk the streets of London
in safety. At length in 1685, being worn out with the vexations,
to which the dissenters were exposed, he accepted an invitation
of Lord Wharton to travel with him in foreign parts, and sailed
with him in August. After visiting many places on the contin-
ent, and forming many valuable acquaintances among the wise
and good, he settled in Utrecht, in 1686, surrounded by English
acquaintances and friends, who were there for similar reasons
with himself. Here he took his turn with other English clergy-
men, among whom was Dr. Burnet, afterwards bishop of Salisbu-
ry, in preaching in the English church, and gave occasional in-
struction to the English students, who were in the University of
that place.
With Dr. Burnet he had occasional interviews and
much conversation on the public concerns of religion in England;
and on Burnet's expressing a belief, that when he, Mr. Baxter,
and Dr. Bates, with a few more, should pass off the stage, noncon-
formity would come to an end, Mr. Howe declared his full con-
viction, that it did not depend on men, but on principle, and, as
its present supporters passed off, others would rise up in their
place, a prediction of which Burnet afterwards acknowledged the
truth. While here, Mr. Howe had also frequent interviews with
William, afterwards king of England, who was free in his con-
versation with him, and asked him many questions respecting
Cromwell, of whom Mr. Howe had of course an intimate know-
ledge.
In 1687 king James published a "declaration for liberty of
conscience," and at the earnest request of his people in London
for his return to them, Mr. Howe complied, and after waiting
upon the prince, who gave him very kind advice upon the occasion,
returned to London, and was gladly received by his friends in
May of this year. In the following year, 1688, upon the arrival
of the Prince of Orange at St. James' palace, Mr. Howe had the
REV. JOHN HOWE.
xiii
honor of addressing him at the head of the dissenting clergy, and
expressing their views of the revolution which had taken place
in his favor. It was now very naturally expected by him and
his friends, that the terms of conformity would be so modified, as
to give them no farther trouble; but when, to his surprise and
mortification, he found that many dignitaries of the establishment
were hostile to such a measure, notwithstanding the court paid
to the dissenters during the reign of James, he drew up and pub-
lished a piece entitled, "The case of the Protestant Dissenters
represented and argued." At length in May, 1689, the Act of
Uniformity gave them much of what they had desired; and, al-
though still excluded from the establishment, they were content
with toleration. Many of the Church party it seems, however,
thought more severity should have been exercised; and, on the pub-
lication of some things of this sort, Mr. Howe, to prevent further
collision, published an "Address to Conformists and Dissenters,"
in which the catholicism and benevolence of his spirit, as well as
his great wisdom, are clearly exhibited. This, with the other
piece just mentioned, is preserved in his memoirs by Dr. Cala-
my.
Not long after this, divisions arose among the dissenters them-
selves, which greatly tried the patience of Mr. Howe and others
of a kindred spirit. An attempt it seems was made to unite
more closely in one body those who were Presbyterian with
those who were Congregational among them, and Mr. Howe,
with others, was concerned in drawing up
"Heads of Agree-
ment," which were generally assented to by the united minis-
ters in and about London. Some, however, refused to subscribe,
and discussions were occasioned, which finally ended in break-
ing up the proposed union, and what was intended for concord
produced greater discord. Mr. Howe in the course of these de-
bates was drawn in to write occasionally on the matters at issue,
but with a view to make peace, and cool the heat of the parties.
It was with this view, that he published "The carnality of Chris-
tian contention" in two sermons, in 1693, the preface to which,
as well as the sermons, breathes a heavenly charity and truly
pious concern for the real interests of religion. His efforts were
unavailing, and in 1694 there was a division of those who had
been united in the Lecture at Pinner's Hall, a new one being
established at Salters' Hall, in which Mr. Howe, Dr. Bates, and
Mr. Alsop joined with Mr. Williams, who had been excluded
from the other.
About the same time there was also much discussion of the
doctrine of the Trinity, occasioned by the writings of Dr. Wallis,
Dr. Sherlock, Dr. South, and Dr. Cudworth on that subject, and
Mr. Howe published "An Inquiry into the possibility of a Trin-
ity in the Godhead," which is perhaps as well deserving the
attention of the student, as any thing written on the subject.
since.
xiv
BIOGRAPHY OF
The only public discussion which Mr. Howe seems to have
engaged in after this, was that respecting occasional conformity.
He was led into this by the circumstance, that Sir Thomas Ab-
ney, a member of his congregation, while Mayor of London in
1701, attending public worship sometimes in the established
church and sometimes among the dissenters, was publicly assailed
for so doing in a pamphlet, with a preface, in which Mr. Howe
was called on either to vindicate or condemn it. A part of what
he wrote on this occasion is preserved by Calamy, and shows the
acuteness as well as the liberal character of his mind in his
now advanced age.
But Mr. Howe, as may be supposed, was tired of the narrow-
minded contentions of the world, and conscious that his own
spirit was above them, and that the time of its deliverance could
not be far distant, he seemed fast ripening for a better world, and
impatient for that blessedness, the nature of which he so well
understood. During the latter years of his life he published a
number of sermons on various occasions, and in 1702 the second
part of his Living Temple, the first part of which had been pub-
lished soon after his settlement in London, in 1675, and which
is the most elaborate and systematic of his theoretical works.
The last work of his, published during his life, was a discourse
on "Patience in expectation of future blessedness," which ap-
peared in 1705, "and this," says Calamy, "was what he now had
particular occasion for. For having employed his time, strength,
and interest in the most valuable services, he by this time was
wasted with several diseases, which he bore with great patience
and resigned submission to the will of his heavenly Father. He
discovered no fear of dying, but, even when his end drew near, was
very serene and calm. He seemed indeed sometimes to have
been got to heaven, even before he had laid aside that mortality,
which he had been long expecting to have swallowed up of life. It
was observed, and is, I believe, to this day remembered by some of
his flock, that in his last illness, and when he had been declining
for some time, he was once in a most affecting, melting, heavenly
frame at the communion, and carried out into such a ravishing
and transporting celebration of the love of Christ, that both he
himself, and they, who communicated with him, were appre-
hensive he would have expired in that very service."
During his last sickness he was visited by many of all ranks,
and conversed with them freely and cheerfully. Among the
rest Richard Cromwell, now himself grown old in retirement,
came to make him a last visit, and pay his respects to him be-
fore he died. There was much serious conversation between
them, and the parting was very solemn and affecting to both.
To the young ministers, who visited him, he talked much, and
like one of another world. His strength being at length quite ex-
hausted, he died in peace and in full expectation of the blessed-
REV. JOHN HOWE.
XV
ness of the righteous, April 2. 1705. He was buried in the parish
church of St. Alhallows, Bread street, and his funeral sermon
preached by his great admirer Mr. John Spademan.
Such are the leading incidents in the life of Howe, and my
limits will only permit me to add a few paragraphs respecting
his character. In his person he is represented by Dr. Calamy,
as "very tall and exceeding graceful," and the portaits, that are
preserved of him, fully correspond with what the same writer
says of the expression of his countenance, as indicating some-
thing uncommonly great and tending to excite veneration.
In regard to his intellectual powers the history of his early
scholarship, as well as his writings, gives proof, that they were
of the highest order and applied with exemplary diligence. Be-
fore taking his second degree at the University, at the age of 22,
"he had not only gone through a course of philosophy, convers-
ed closely with the heathen moralists, read over the accounts we
have remaining of Pagan theology, the writings of the school-men,
and several systems and common places of the Reformers, and
the divines that succeeded them, but had thoroughly studied the
Sacred Scriptures, and from thence drawn up a body of divinity
for himself and his own use, which he saw very little occasion af-
terwards to vary from." His character at the Universities, too,
is indicated by the intimacy which he enjoyed with such men as
Dr. Henry More and Dr. Cudworth, at Oxford, both of whom
were over 30 years old, while he was but a boy; and with Mr.
Gale and others, who were afterwards distinguished, at Cambridge.
His distinguished Oxford friends, especially More, kept up habits
of intimacy with him, frequently visiting him during his residence
in London; and to his intercourse with these men has been as-
cribed the tincture of Platonism, which is so apparent in his
writings.
His ministerial qualifications seem to have been remarkable
even in that age of sound scholarship, and unsparing diligence.
Such were his stores of thought, and so thoroughly were they
digested, that he could preach as methodically without prepara-
tion, as others after the closest study, usually delivered his ser-
mons without notes, and had great copiousness and fluency in
prayer. The following is the account, which he gave Dr. Cala-
my, of his customary services in the pulpit at Torrington, on the
public fasts, which, in those days, were frequent, and kept with
great strictness and solemnity. He began "about nine in the
morning with a prayer for about a quarter of an hour, in which
he begged a blessing on the work of the day, and afterwards read
and expounded a chapter or psalm, in which he spent about three
quarters, then prayed for about an hour, preached for another
hour, and prayed for about half an hour. After this he retired, and
took some little refreshment, for about a quarter of an hour, or
more, the people singing all the while, and then came again into
the pulpit, and prayed for another hour, and gave them another
xvi
BIOGRAPHY OF REV. JOHN HOWE.
sermon of about an hour's length, and so concluded the service
of the day at about four in the evening, with about half an hour
or more in prayer-a sort of service," as Calamy observes,
"that few could have gone through without inexpressible weari-
ness both to themselves and their auditories."
The great firmness, consistency, and inflexible integrity of Mr.
Howe's character, were exhibited on many occasions, which
would have shaken men of ordinary principles. No suspicion of
a self-seeking disposition appears to have attached to him during
his connexion with those in power, and when upon his refusing to
assent to the terms of conformity, his friend Dr. Wilkins, now
bishop of Chester, expressed his surprise, that a man of his "lati-
tude" should be scrupulous in that matter, Mr. Howe assured him,
"that that latitude of his, which he was pleased to take notice
of, was so far from inducing him to conformity, that it was the ve-
ry thing, that made and kept him a non-conformist."
His general views of religion were, in the highest and best
sense, liberal and rational. He considered Christianity, not so
much a system of opinions, and a set of forms, as a divine disci-
pline for the heart and life, a living power, which must be felt,
and become the actuating principle of our own spiritual being.
He seems to me to have made his views of philosophy and of
Christianity a more perfectly harmonious and consistent whole,
than any other distinguished theologian, even of that philosophi-
cal age.
It was the largeness and comprehensiveness of his
views, as well as the native temper of his mind, that made him
liberal and tolerant to the views of others, and a firm and con-
stant supporter of generous and catholic principles.
His writings are numerous, and were first collected and pub-
lished in 2 vols. fol., at London, in 1724, with a dedication to the
King, by Samuel Chandler, and memoirs by Dr. Calamy. Within a
few years past they have been recalled into circulation, and several
editions published in England, with large additions of posthumous
matter. Other practical treatises, and many of his sermons are lit-
tle, if at all, less worthy of a place in this selection, than those which
are inserted, and my first intention was to fill the first volume from
his writings. The wish to secure variety, and bring other writers
into notice, has induced a different course. The late editions of
his writings occupy eight octavo volumes, but large as the whole
work is, there are few of the old authors, whose entire practical and
theoretical works are equally deserving of a republication in this
country. So profound and rational are his philosophical and the-
ological views, and so free from the peculiar tones and phraseolo-
gy of a sect, or an age, are his practical and devotional writings,
that they can neither grow old by time, nor lose their power over
the minds of thinking and pious men, so long as the essential
principles of reason and religion remain unchanged.
THE EDITOR.
THE
BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
A TREATISE
ON PSALM 17: 15.
When he shall appear, we shall be like him, for we shall see
him as he is, 1. John 3. 2.
VOL. I.
1
;
Αλλὰ τὰ κακὰ οὐ δυνατὸν ἐν θεοῖς ἵδρυσθαι τὴν δὲ θνητὴν φύσιν, και τόνδε τὸν
τόπον περιπολεῖ ἐξ ἀνάγκης. Διὸ καὶ πείρασθαι χρὴ ἐνθένδε ἐκεῖσε φεύγειν ὅτι τά-
χιςα. Φυγὴ δὲ ὁμοίωσις θεῷ κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν, ὁμοίωσις δὲ δικαιὸν καὶ ὁσιόν με
τὰ φρονησεως γένεσθαι.
It is impossible that vice should find a place in the abode of
the Gods; but it necessarily adheres to a mortal nature, and to
the present world. It is therefore our duty to shun it with the
utmost eagerness, or, in other words to seek the highest possible
resemblance to God, which resemblance consists in rectitude, ho-
liness and wisdom. Plat. in Theæt.
TO THE READER.
I am not at all solicitous, that the world should know the his-
tory of the conception of this treatise. If there be any thing
that shall recompense the pains of such as may think fit to give
themselves the trouble of perusing it, in the work itself, I should
yet think it too much an undervaluing of them, if I did reckon
the minuter circumstances relating thereto, fit for their enter-
tainment. Nor am I more concerned to have it known what
were the inducements to the publication of it. Earnest protest-
ations and remonstrations of our good intentions in such under-
takings, as they leave men still at liberty to believe or doubt at
their pleasure; so they gain us little if they be believed. It is
no easy matter, to carry one even, constant tenor of spirit
through a work of time. Nor is it more easy to pass a settled
invariable judgment concerning so variable a subject; when a
heart that may seem wholly framed and set for God this hour,
shall look so quite like another thing the next, and change figures
and postures almost as often as it doth thoughts.
And if a man
should be mistaken in judging himself, it would little mend the
matter, to have deceived others also into the opinion of him.
But if he can approve himself to God in the simplicity of an
honest and undeceived heart, the peace that ensues, is a secret
between God and him. They are theatre enough to one ano-
ther, as he (Seneca) said to his friend. It is an inclosed plea-
sure a joy which the stranger cannot intermeddle with.
It is therefore any man's concernment herein rather to satisfy
Amself than the world. And the world's rather to understand
the design of the work than the author's; and whither it tends,
rather than whereto he meant it. And it is obvious enough, to
what good purposes discourses of this nature may serve. This
is, in the design of it, wholly practical; hath little or nothing to
do with disputation. If there be any whose business it is to pro-
mote a private, divided interest; or who place the sum of their
religion in an inconsiderable and doubtful opinion; it doth not
4
TO THE READER.
unhallow their altars, nor offer any affront to their idol. It in-
tends no quarrel to any contending, angry party but deals upon
things in the substance whereof christians are at a professed
agreement. And hath therefore the greater probability of do-
ing good to some, without the offence of any. It is indeed equally
matter of complaint and wonder, that men can find so much lei-
sure to divert from such things, wherein there is so much both
of importance and pleasure, unto (what one would think should
have little of temptation or allurement in it) contentious jang-
ling. It might rather be thought its visible fruits and tenden-
cies should render it the most dreadful thing to every serious
beholder. What tragedies hath it wrought in the Christian
church! Into how weak and languishing a condition hath it
brought the religion of professed Christians! Hence have risen
the intemperate, preternatural heats and angers that have spent
its strength and spirits, and make it look with so meagre and
pale a face. We have had a greater mind to dispute than live;
and to contend about what we know not, than to practice the ſar
greater things we know; and which more directly tend to nour-
ish and maintain the divine life. The author of that ingenious
sentence, pruritus disputandi scabies Ecclesia, the itch of dis-
puting is the distemper of the church, (whoever he were) hath
fitly expressed what is the noisome product of the itch of dis-
puting. It hath begot the ulcerous tumors, which, besides their
own offensive soreness, drain the body, and turn what should
nourish that into nutriment to themselves. And its effects are
not more grievous than the pleasures which it effects and pur-
sues are uncouth and unnatural: ut ulcera quædam nocituras
manus appetunt et tactu gaudent, et fædam corporum scabiem
delectat quicquid exasperat: Non aliter dixerim his mentibus in
quas voluptates, velut mala ulcera eruperunt, voluptati esse la-
borem, vexationemque: as ulcers of a rough kind invite and
are pleased with the touch of a rough and injurious hand, and
as that only gratifies which irritates a body covered over with a
loathsome eruption, so to those minds which are afflicted with
the noxious ulcer of forbidden pleasure, labor and vexation are
the only delight. Sen de tranquillitate animi. That only
pleases which exasperates, (as the moralist aptly expresses some
like disaffection of diseased minds.) What to a sound spirit
would be a pain, is to these a pleasure.
Which is, indeed, the triumph of the disease, that it adds unto
torment, reproach and mockery, and imposes upon men by so
ridiculous a delusion (while they are made to take pleasure in
punishing themselves) that even the most sober can scarce look
on in a fitter posture, than with a compassionate smile. All
which were yet somewhat more tolerable, if that imagined, van-
ishing pleasure were not the whole of their gain; or if it were
to be hoped, that so great a present real pain and smart, should
TO THE READER.
5
be recompensed with as real a consequent fruit and advantage.
But we know, that generally by how much any thing is more
disputable, the less it is necessary or conducible to the Christian
life. God hath graciously provided that what we are to live by,
should not cost us so dear. And possibly, as there is less occa-
sion of disputing about the more momentous things of religion; so
there may be somewhat more of modesty and awe in reference
to what is so confessedly venerable and sacred, (though too many
are over bold even here also) than so foolishly to trifle with such
things. Therefore more commonly, where that humor prevails,
men divert from those plainer things, with some slighter and su-
perficial reverence to them, but more heartily esteeming them
jejune, because they have less in them to gratify that appetite,
and betake themselves to such things about which they may
more plausibly contend; and then, what pitiful trifles oftentimes
take up their time and thoughts; questions and problems of like
weighty importance, very often, with those which, the above-
named author (Sen. de Brev. vit.) tells us, this disease among
the Greeks prompted them to trouble themselves about, as,
"What number of rowers Ulysses had? which was written first,
the Iliad or the Odysses, &c.? So that (as he saith) they spent
their lives very operously doing nothing. Their conceits being
such, that if they kept them to themselves, they could yield them
no fruit; and if they publish them to others, they should not
seem thereby the more learned, but the more troublesome":—to
this purpose he truly speaks. And is it not to be resented, that
men should sell away the solid strength and vital joy which a se-
rious soul would find in substantial religion, for such toys! Yea,
and not only famish themselves but trouble the world, and embroil
the church with their impertinences! If a man be drawn forth
to defend an important truth against an injurious assault, it were
treacherous self-love to purchase his own peace by declining it.
Or if he did sometimes turn his thoughts to some of our petty
questions, that with many are so hotly agitated, for recreation-
sake, or to try his wit and exercise his reason, without stirring
his passions to the disturbance of others or himself; it were an
innocent divertisement, and the best purpose that things of that
nature are capable of serving. But when contention becomes a
man's element, and he cannot live out of that fire, strains his
with and racks his invention to find matter of quarrel; is resol-
vou, nothing said or done by others shall please him, only be-
cause he means to please himself in dissenting; disputes only
that he may dispute, and loves dissension for itself: this is the
unnatural humor that hath so unspeakably troubled the church,
and dispirited religion, and filled men's souls with wind and
vanity; yea, with fire and fury. This hath made Christians gla-
diators, and the Christian world a clamorous theatre, while men
have equally affected to contend, and to make ostentation of
their ability so to do.
6
TO THE READER.
i
And, surely, as it is highly pleasurable to retire oneself, so
it is charitable to call aside others out of this noise and throng,
to consider silently and feed upon the known and agreed things
of our religion; which immediately lead to both the duties and
delights of it. Among which there are none more evident and
undoubted, none less entangled with controversy, none more
profitable and pleasant than the future blessedness of the right-
eous, which this discourse treats of. The last end is a matter
so little disputable, that it is commonly thought (which is else-
where more distinctly spoken to) not to be the object of elec-
tion, and so not of deliberation consequently, but of simple
intention only, because men are supposed to be generally agreed
as touching that. And the knowledge and intention of it is ap-
parently the very soul of religion; animates, directs, enlivens,
and sweetens the whole thereof. Without which, religion were
the vainest, most unsavory thing in the world. For what were
there left of it, but an empty unaccountable formality, a series of
spiritless and merely scenical observances and actions without a
design? For whereas all men's actions else, mediately tend to
the last end, but that not being in view with the most, they
pitch upon other intervenient ends; which, though abstracted
from the last, should not be; yet they are actually to them the
reason of their actions, and infuse a vigor and liveliness into
them: religion aiming immediately at the last end, that being
taken away, hath no rational end or design at all. And it cannot
but be an heartless business, with great solemnity, in a constituted
course, to do nothing but professedly trifle, or keep up a custom
of certain solemn performances which have no imaginable scope
or end.
And because the more clearly this our last end is un-
derstood, the more powerfully and sweetly it attracts and moves
the soul, this treatise endeavors to give as plain and positive a
state and notion of it as the text insisted on, compared with
other scriptures, would afford to so weak an eye.
And because men are so apt to abuse themselves with the
vain and self-contracting hopes of attaining this end, without
ever having their spirits framed for it, or walking in the way that
leads thereto, as if they could come to heaven by chance, or
without any design or care of theirs; the proportion is endea-
vored to be shewn, between that divine likeness, in the vision
and participation whereof this blessedness consists, and the
righteousness that disposes and leads to it.
Which may
monitory to the ungodly and profane, who hate and scorn the
likeness of God wherever they behold it. And let me tell such
from (better-instructed) pagans, Nihil est Deo similius aut gra-
tius quam vir animo perfecte bonus, &c. that there is nothing
more like or more acceptable to God, than a man that is in the
temper of his soul truly good, who excels other men, as he is
himself excelled (pardon his hyperbole) by the immortal God.
De
TO THE READER.
Apul. de Deo Socratis. Inter bonos viros ac Deum amicitia est,
conciliante virtute-amicitiam dico? etiam necessitudo, et simili-
tudo, &c. that between God and good men there is a friendship,
by means of virtue; a friendship, yea, a kindred, a likeness ;
in as much truly as the good man differs from God but in time
(here sprinkle a grain or two) being his disciple, imitator and
very off-spring. (Sen. de pro.) Nepéra yag & deos ÖTAV TIS LÉY? TOV
Νεμέσα γὰρ θεὸς ὅταν τις ψέγῃ τὸν
ἑαυτῷ ὅμοιον ἢ ἐπαίνῃ τὸν ἑαυτῷ ἐναντίως ἔχοντα, ἐςι δ' οὗτος ὁ ἀγαθός. πάντων
ἱερότατόν ἐσιν ἄνθρωπος ἀγαθὸς, καὶ μιαρώτατον ὁ πονηρός: that God is full
of indignation against such as reproach one that is like to him,
or that praise one that is contrarily affected (or unlike); but
such is the good man (that is, that he is one like God.) A good
man (as it shortly after follows) is the holiest thing in the world,
and a wicked man the most polluted thing.-Plat. in Minoe.
And let me warn such haters of holiness and holy men in the
words of this author immediately subjoined; Τούτου δ' ἕνεκα φράσω,
ἵνα μὴ ἄνθρωπος ὢν ἄνθρωπου, εἰς ἥρω Διὸς υἱον λογῷ ἐξαμαρτάνης: and this
I say for this cause, that thou being but a man, the son of a man,
no more offend in speaking against a hero, one who is a son of
God.
Methinks men should be ashamed to profess the belief of a
life to come, while they cannot behold without indignation, nor
mention but with derision, that holiness without which it can
never be attained, and which is indeed the seed and principle of
the thing itself. But such are not likely much to trouble them-
selves with this discourse. There is little in it indeed of art
and ornament to invite or gratify such as the subject itself in-
vites not. And nothing at all but what was apprehended might
be some way useful. The affectation of garnishing a margin
with the names of authors, I have ever thought a vain pedantry;
yet have not declined the occasional use of a few that occurred.
He that writes to the world, must reckon himself debtor to the
wise and unwise. If what is done shall be found with any to
have promoted its proper end; his praises to God shall follow it
(as his prayers do that it may) who professes himself,
A well-willer to the souls of men.
J. HOWE.
7
CHRISTIAN READER.
You whose hearts are set on heaven, who are daily laying up
a treasure there, here is a welcome messenger, to tell you more
than perhaps you have well considered, of the nature of your
future blessedness, and to illustrate the map of the land of pro-
mise, and to bring you another cluster of its grapes: here is a use-
ful help to make you know that holiness doth participate of glo-
ry, and that heaven is at least virtually in the seed of grace.
Though this life be properly called a life of faith, as contradis-
tinct from the intuition and fruition hereafter, as well as from the
lower life of sense; yet is it a great truth, and not sufficiently
considered and improved, that we have here more than faith, to
acquaint us with the blessedness expected. Between faith and
glory, there is the spirit of holiness, the love of God, the hea-
venly desires, which are kindled by faith, and are those branch-
es on which the happy flower and fruit must grow: they are the
name and mark of God upon us: they are our earnest, our
pledge and the first fruits. And is not this more than a word of
promise only? Therefore though all christians must live by faith,
marvel not that I tell you, that you may, you must have more
than faith. Is not a pledge and earnest, a first-fruits more?
Therefore have christians, not only a Spirit to evidence their
title, but also some foretaste of heaven itself. For faith in
Christ is to recover us to God, and so much as we have of God,
so much of fruition; and so much as faith hath kindled in you of
the love of God, so much foretaste you have of heaven; for you
are deceived, if you think, that any one notion speaketh more to
you of heaven and of your ultimate end, than the love of God.
And though no unsound, ill-grounded faith will serve to cause
this sacred love, yet when it is caused, it over-tops this cause;
and he that perceiveth the operation of a strong effectual love,
hath an acquaintance with God and heaven which is above that
of believing. Faith seeth the feast, but love is the tasting of it.
And therefore it is, that the holiest souls stick closest unto God,
because (though their reasoning faculty may be defective) they
know him by the highest and most tenacious kind of knowledge
which this world affordeth, (as I have lately shewed elsewhere.)
Here you have described to you, the true witness of the Spirit;
not that of supposed internal voices, which they are usually
most taken up with, who have the smallest knowledge and faith,
VOL. I.
2
10
CHRISTIAN READER.
and love, and the greatest self-esteem, or spiritual pride, with
the strongest phantasies and passions: but the objective and the
sealing testimony, the divine nature, the renewed image of God,
whose children are known by being like to their heavenly Fa-
ther, even by being holy as he is holy. This is the Spirit of
adoption, by which we are inclined, by holy love to God and
confidence in him, to cry Abba Father, and fly unto him: the
Spirit of sanctification is hereby in us the Spirit of adoption :
for both signify but the giving us that love to God, which is the
filial nature, and our Father's image.
And this treatise doth happily direct thee to that faithful be-
holding God in righteousness, which must here begin this bless-
ed assimilation, which full intuition will forever perfect. It is a
happy sign that God is about to repair our ruins and divisions,
when he stirreth up his servants to speak so much of heaven,
and to call up the minds of impatient complainers, and conten-
tious censurers, and ignorant self-conceited dividers, and of
worldly, unskilful, and unmerciful pastors, to look to that state.
where all the godly shall be one, and to turn those thoughts to the
furtherance of holiness, to provoke one another to love and to
good works, which too many lay out upon their hay and stubble,
and to call men from judging and despising each other (and
worse than both these) about their meats and drinks, and days,
to study righteousness and peace, and joy in the holy Ghost.
For he that in these things serveth Christ (in which his king-
dom doth consist) is acceptable to God, and approved of men,
that are wise and good. Let us therefore follow after the
things which make for peace, and things wherewith one may
edify another. While the contentious for meats will destroy the
work of God, (Rom. 14. 17. 20.) the union between peace and
holiness is so strict, that he that truly promoteth one promote th
both, Heb. 12. 14. Jam. 3. 17. The true way of our union is
excellently described, Eph. 4. 11,-16. If any plain, un-
learned readers shall blame the accurateness of the style, they
must remember, that those persons have not the least need to
hear of heaven, and to be drawn up from the vanities of earth
who cannot digest a looser style. As God hath endued the wor-
thy author with a more than ordinary measure of judiciousness,
even soundness and accurateness, of understanding, with seri-
ousness, spirituality, and heavenly mind; so we have for our
common benefit, the effects of all these happy qualifications, in this
judicious, heavenly discourse. And if my recommendations may
in any measure further your acceptance, improvements and prac-
tising of so edifying a treatise, it will answer the ends of him
who waiteth with you in hope for the same salvation.
RICHARD BAXTER.
THE
BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
PSALM XVII. 15.
As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall
be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness.
CHAP. I.
1. A proemial discourse. II. A reflection upon some foregoing verses of
the psalm, by way of introduction to the text. III. A consideration of its
somewhat various readings, and of its literal importance. IV. A discussion
of its real importance so far as is necessary to the settling the subject of the
present discourse.
I. The continual mixture of good and evil in this present
state of things, with its uncertain fluctuations, and subjection to
perpetual changes; do naturally prompt a considering mind to
the belief and hope of another, that may be both more perfect,
and more permanent. For certainly it could never be a design
adequate (or any way agreeable) to the divine wisdom and
goodness, that the blessed God should raise such a thing as this
lower creation out of nothing, only to give himself the tempora-
ry pleasure of beholding the alternate joys and sorrows of (the
best part thereof) his reasonable creature seated in it: nor a
delight at all proportionable to an eternally happy Being, when
he hath connaturalized such a creature to this sensible world;
only to take notice how variously the passions he hath planted
in him, may be moved and stirred by the variety of occasions
which he shall thence be presented with; and what sudden and
contrary impressions may be made upon his easy passive senses,
by the interchanged strokes and touches of contrary objects;
how quickly he can arise him into a transport of high content-
ment and pleasure, and then how soon he can again reduce him
to a very paroxysm of anguish and despair. It would discover
us to have very vile and low thoughts of God, if we did not judge
12
THE BLESSEDNESS
it altogether unanswerable to his perfections, to design no fur-
ther thing in creating this world, and placing such a creature as
man in it, than only to please himself for a while with such a
spectacle, and then at last clear the stage, and shut up all again
in an eternal, silent darkness. If we could suppose a man fur-
nished with such power, he would surely add little to the repu-
tation of his being wise or good beyond other men, by a design
so to use it. Much less can we think it worthy of God to per-
petuate such a state of things as this, and continue a succession
of such persons and actions as we now behold in the world,
through eternal generations, only to perpetuate to himself the
same pleasure in the exercise of his immense power upon crea-
ted natures, over which he hath so infinite advantage.
And indeed nothing can be more unconceivable, than that the
great Creator and Author of all things, should frame a creature
of so vast comprehension as the spirit of man, put into it a ca-
pacity of knowing and conversing with himself, give it some
prospect of his own glory and blessedness; raise thereby, in
many, boundless unsatisfied desires after him, and unexpressible
pleasure in the pre-conceived hope of being received into the
communion of that glory and blessedness; and yet defeat and
blast so great an expectation, by the unsuspected reducement of
the very subject of it again to nothing. Yea, and that he should
deal herein (as in that case he must) the most hardly with the
best and that such souls, whose mere love and devotedness to
him, had made them abandon the pleasures of this life, and run
through whatsoever difficulties for his sake, should fare worse.
than the very worst; were beyond all the rest, most utterly un-
imaginable, and a thought which pagan-reason hath not known
how to digest or entertain. If (saith one, and he speaks the
sense of many others, as well as his own) Ei pèv âv äµa soIS
σώμασι διαλυομένοις καὶ τὸ τῆς ψυχῆς ὅ τι δέ ποτε ὅ εςιν εκεῖνο συνδιαλύεται,
&c. with the dissolution of our bodies, the essence of the soul,
whatsoever that be, should be dissolved too, and forever cease to
be any thing; I know not how I can account them blessed, that
never having enjoyed any good as the reward of their virtue,
have even perished for virtue itself. Dionys. Halicar. Antiq.
Rom. lib. 8.
"
Wherefore it is consequent, that this present state is only in-
tended for trial to the spirits of men, in order to their attain-
ment as of a better state in a better world: that is, inasmuch as
the infinitely wise and blessed God had given being to such a
creature as man, in which both worlds (the material and the im-
material) did meet; and who, in respect of his earthly and spi-
ritual natures, had in him somewhat suitable to each. And
whereas this creature had lost (with his interest) his very in-
clination to the spiritual objects, enjoyments of the purer, im-
material world (wherein alone his true blessedness could con-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
13
sist,) suffered a vile depression of his spirit unto this gross cor-
poreal world, and hereby brought himself under a necessity of
being miserable, his nobler part having nothing now to satisfy it,
but what it was become unsuitable and disaffected to. His mer-
ciful Creator, being intent upon his restitution, thought fit not
to bring it about by a sudden and violent hand (as it were to
catch him into heaven against his will:) but to raise his spirit
into its just dominion and sovreignty in him, by such gradual
methods as were most suitable to a rational, intelligent nature;
that is, to discover to him, that he had such a thing as spirit
about him; whence it was fallen, how low it was sunk, to what
state it was capable to be raised, and what he had designed and
done for its happy recovery. And hence by the secret and
powerful insinuations of his own light and grace, to awaken his
drowsy and slumbering reason, and incline his perverse and
wayward will to the consideration and choice of such things as
that felicity consists in; which that better world can afford, and
his better part enjoy.
And while he propounds such things to him, how reasonable
and agreeable was it, that he should keep him sometime under a
just probation (yea, how much was there in it of a gracious and
compassionate indulgence, often to renew the trial,) whether he
would yet bestir himself, and (having so great hopes before him,
and such helps and aids afforded him, and ready to be afforded)
apply, at last, his intellectual and elective powers, to mind and
close with so gracious overtures, in order to his own eternal ad-
vancement and blessedness? Nor was it an unreasonable ex-
pectation that he should do so. For, however the temporal
good and evil that may constantly affect his sensitive part and
powers, be present and near; but the eternal misery or blessed-
ness of his soul, future and remote; yet inasmuch as he is capa-
ble of understanding the vast disproportions of time and eterni-
ty; of a mortal flesh and an immortal spirit; how preposterous
a course were it, and unworthy of a man; yea, how dishonora-
ble and reproachful to his Maker, should he prefer the momen-
tary pleasures of narrow, incapacious sense, to the everlasting
enjoyments of an enlarged comprehensive spirit? Or, for the
avoiding the pains and miseries of the former kind, incur
those of the latter? Whence also the Holy God doth not ex-
pect and require only, that men should make that wiser choice ;
but doth most justly lay the weight of their eternal states upon
their doing, or not doing so. And in that day when he shall
render to every one according to his works, make this the rule
of his final judgment, to allot to them, who by a patient continu-
ance in well-doing, seek for honor, glory, and immortality, eter-
nal life. To the rest, indignation and wrath, tribulation and an-
guish, &c. and that whether they be Jews or Gentiles. Rom. 2.
6,-9. Nor is it a new thing in the world, that some among the
14
THE BLESSEDNESS
children of men should in this comply with the righteous will of
God, and so judge and choose for themselves, as he is pleased to
direct and prescribe, it is a course approved by the concurrent
suffrage of all them, in all times and ages, into whose minds the
true light hath shined, and whom God hath inspired with that
wisdom whereby he maketh wise to salvation. That numerous
assembly of the perfected spirits of the just, have agreed in this
common resolution; and did in their several generations, before
they had passed this state of trial, with an heroic magnanimity
trample this present world under their feet, and aspire to the
glory of the world to come; relieving themselves against all the
grievances they have suffered from such whose portion is in this
life with the alone hope and confidence of what they were to
enjoy in another.
II. And hereof we have an eminent and illustrious instance
in this context, where the ground is laid of the following dis-
course. For introduction whereto, observe that-the title
speaks the psalm a prayer of David. The matter of the prayer
is, preservation from his enemies. Not to go over the whole
psalm, we have in the 13 and 14 verses, the sum of his desires,
with a description of the persons he prays to be delivered from:
in which description every character is an argument to enforce
his prayer.
From the wicked: as though he had said they are equally
enemies to thee and me; not more opposite to me by their cru-
elty, than by their wickedness they are to thee. Vindicate then,
at once, thyself, and deliver me.
Thy sword, thy hand. Thou canst as easily command and
manage them, as a man may wield his sword, or move his hand.
Wilt thou suffer thine own sword, thine own hand, to destroy
thine own servant?
Men of the world, which have their portion in this life: time
and this lower world, bound all their hopes and fears. They
have no serious believing apprehensions of any thing beyond this
present life therefore have nothing to withhold them from the
most injurious violence, if thou withhold them not; men that
believe not another world, are the ready actors of any imagina-
ble mischiefs and tragedies in this.
:
Whose belly thou fillest. That is, their sensual appetite; (as
oftentimes that term is used, Rom. 16. 18. Phil. 3. 19.) with thy
hid treasures, namely, the riches which either God is wont to
hide in the bowels of the earth, or lock up in the repository of
providence, dispensing them at his own pleasure.
They are full of children. So it appears by that which fol-
lows, it ought to be read, and not according to that gross, but
easy (iv for viv) mistake of some transcribers of the seventy.
As if in all this he had pleaded thus; "Lord, thou hast abun-
dantly indulged those men already, what need they more? They
have themselves, from thy unregarded bounty, their own vast
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
15
swollen desires sufficiently filled, enough for their own time;
and when they can live no longer in their persons, they may in
their posterity, and leave not strangers, but their numerous off-
spring, their heirs. Is it not enough that their avarice be grati-
fied, except their malice be also? that they have whatsoever
they can conceive desirable for themselves, unless they may also
infer whatever they can think mischievous on me? To this de-
scription of his enemies, he, ex opposito, subjoins some account
of himself in this his closure of the psalm: As for me, here he
is at his statique point; and, after some appearing discomposure,
his spirit returns to a consistency, in consideration of his own
more happy state, which he opposes and prefers to theirs, in the
following respects. That they were wicked, he righteous. "I
will behold thy face in righteousness." That their happiness
was worldly, terrene, such only as did spring from the earth;
his, heavenly and divine, such as should result from the face and
image of God. Theirs, present, temporary, compassed within
this life; his, future, everlasting, to be enjoyed when he should
awake. Theirs, partial, defective, such as would but gratify
their bestial part, fill their bellies; his, adequate, complete (the
evdamovía ty duvers a happiness of proportion) such as should satis-
fy the man. “I shall be satisfied, &c.
III. The variety in rendering this verse (to be seen by com-
paring the original and translation) need not give us any trouble,
the differences not being of great moment, nor our own reading
liable to exception. The word about which is the greatest di-
versity, hath the significancy we here give it, in the second com-
mandment, and constantly elsewhere. And then, what more
proper English can this text, be capable of, than it hath in our bi-
bles? Each word hath its true and genuine import; and the
syntax is sufficiently regular, and grammatical of the whole.
IV. In the mean time, the real importance of this scripture
more calls for discussion than the literal; concerning which, a
threefold inquiry will be necessary for the settling the subject of
the following discourse.-What relation this righteousness must
be understood to have to the vision of God's face, and the other
consequent blessedness.-What time or state awaking refers to,
and-What is intended by the likeness of God. To the first of
these. It is only necessary to say at present, that the already
noted import of the preposition in being supposed most suitable
to this text (as apparently it is) righteousness must be looked
upon in reference to this vision, not as in an idle or merely ca-
sual concomitancy, or as an unconcerned circumstance, that hath
nothing to do with the business spoken of; but as in a close and
intimate connexion therewith; being, first antecedent, secondly
conducible, thirdly necessary thereto. Nor can I better express
its place, and reference to it, generally and in one word, than in
saying it qualifies for it; which how it doth, will be more proper
16
THE BLESSEDNESS
to consider hereafter. It may now suffice to say, those words
give us the qualified subject of this blessedness "I; in right-
eousness," a righteous person as such. To the Second; Taking
it for granted, that none will understand this awaking as opposed
to natural sleep: in the borrowed or tropical sense, it must be
understood to intend either some better state in this life, in com-
parison whereof the Psalmist reckons his present state but as a
sleep; or the future state of blessedness in the other life.
There have been some who have understood it of the former,
and thought the Psalmist to speak only of an hoped freedom
from his present temporal afflictions; but then, that which will
be implied, seems not so specious; that trouble and affliction
should be signified by the necessarily pre-supposed sleep, which
sure doth more resemble rest than trouble.
I conceive it less exceptionable to refer awaking, to the bles-
sed state of saints after this life. For, that saints, at that time
when this was written, had the knowledge of such a state (in-
deed a saint not believing a life to come, is a perfect contradic-
tion) no doubt can be made by any that hath ever so little read
and compared the old and new testament. We are plainly told,
that those excellent persons mentioned in the famous roll, (Heb.
11. v. 1. 16.) lived by that faith which was the substance of things
hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen. That of them,
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, while they lived in Canaan, yet sought
a better, a heavenly country; confessing themselves pilgrims and
strangers on earth. We know it was the more general belief of
the Jews in our Saviour's time. And whence should they have
it, but from the old Testament thither our Saviour remits them
Joh. 5. 39. to search it out, and the way to it. The Apostle
saint Paul, Acts 26, and 6. 7. compared with the 8. gives it as
the common faith of the twelve tribes, grounded upon the pro-
mise made to their forefathers; and thence prudentially he herein
states the cause wherein he was now engaged; supposing it
would be generally resented, that he should be called in ques-
tion for avowing (only) so known and received a truth. Sure
they were beholden to these sacred writings they had then among
them, for so common a belief; and since it is out of question,
from our Saviour's express words, they do contain the ground
of that belief; what cause have we to be so shy of so interpre-
ting scriptures that have a fair aspect that way? Is it, that we
can devise to fasten here and there another sense upon divers
such? I wonder what one text can be mentioned in all the old
testament to this purpose, wherein one may not do so: And
what then would be the tendency of this course, but to deny in
all the particulars, what, upon so clear evidence, we are in the
general forced to admit? and to put Moses, and Abraham, and
David, in a lower class than Pythagoras, and Socrates, and Plato?
And I think it would not be easy to find one text in all that part
14
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
17
of the Bible, where both the words thereof, and the context, do
more fairly comply, that in this, so as not only to admit, but even
to invite that interpretation.
For the term awake about which the present inquiry is, how
apt and obvious is the analogy between our awaking out of na-
tural sleep, and the holy soul's rising up out of the darkness and
torpor of its present state, into the enlivening light of God's
presence? It is truly said so to awake, at its first quitting these
darksome regions, when it lays aside its cumbersome night-vail.
It doth so more perfectly, in the joyful morning of the resurrec-
tion-day when mortality is swallowed up in life, and all the yet
hovering shadows of it are vanished and fled away. And how
known and usual an application this is of the metaphorical terms
of sleeping and awaking in holy writ, I need not tell them who
have read the Bible. Nor doth this interpretation less fitly ac-
cord to the other contents of this verse: For to what state do
the sight of God's face, and satisfaction with his likeness, so fully
agree, as to that of future blessedness in the other world? But
then the contexture of discourse in this and the foregoing verse
together, seems plainly to determine us to this sense for what
can be more conspicuous in them, than a purposed comparison, an
opposition of two states of felicity mutually to each other? That
of the wicked, whom he calls men of time, and whose portion,
he tells us, is in this life and the righteous man's, his own;
which he expected not to be till he should awake, that is, not till
after this life.
It is further to be inquired, thirdly, how we are here to under-
stand the likeness of God? I doubt not but we are to under-
stand by it, his glory. And the only difficulty which it will be
necessary at present to consider about it, is, whether we are to
take it objectively, or subjectively; for the glory to be repre-
sented to the blessed soul, or the glory to be impressed upon it;
the glory which it is to behold, or the glory it shall bear. And
I conceive the difference is more easily capable of accommoda-
tion, than of a strict decision on either part. By face is un-
doubtedly meant objective glory, and that in its most perfect re-
presentation, the face being, as we know with men, the chief
seat of aspectable majesty and beauty. Hence when Moses de-
sires to see God's glory, though he did vouchsafe some discovery
of it, yet he tells him his face cannot be seen. Hereupon, there-
fore, the next expression thy likeness might the more plausibly
be restrained to subjective glory, so as to denote the image of
God now in its most perfect impression on the blessed soul. But
that I insist not on. Supposing therefore, that what is signified
by face, be repeated over again in this word likeness, yet I con-
ceive the expression is not varied in vain; but having more to
say than only that he expected a state of future vision, namely,
that he assured himself of satisfaction too, another word was
VOL. I.
3
18
THE BLESSEDNESS
|
""
thought fit to be used that might signify also somewhat that must
intervene in order to that satisfaction. It is certain the mere ob-
jective representation and consequent intuition of the most ex-
cellent (even the divine) glory, cannot satisfy a soul remaining
disaffected and unsuitable thereunto. It can only satisfy, as, be-
ing represented; it forms the soul into the same image, and at-
tempers it to itself, as if he had said "I expect hereafter to see
the blessed face of God, and to be myself blessed or satisfied by
his glory, at once appearing to me, and transfusing itself upon me.
In short therefore, I understand by that term, the glory of God
as transforming, or as impressive of itself. If therefore, glory,
the object of the soul's vision, shall by any be thought to be in-
tended in it, I contend not; supposing only, that the object be
taken not materially, or potentially only, for the thing visibly in
itself considered; but formally, and in esse actuali objecti; that
is, as now, actually impressing itself, or as connoting such an
impression upon the beholding soul; for so only is it productive.
of such a pleasure and satisfaction to it, as must ensue. As in
this form of speech "such a man takes pleasure in knowledge."
It is evident knowledge must be taken there both objectively, for
the things known; and subjectively, for the actual perception of
the things; inasmuch as, apparently, both must concur to work
him delight. So it will appear, to any one that attentively con-
siders it, glory must be taken in that passage, "We rejoice in
hope of the glory of God." Rom. 5. 2. It is divine glory both
revealed and received; his exhibition and communication of it,
according to his immensity; and our participation of it, accord-
ing to our measure, that must concur to our eternal satisfaction.
Herein the platonic adage hath evident truth in it; Voluptatis
generatio est ex infiniti et finiti copulatione. Pleasure is here cer-
tainly made up of something finite and something infinite, meeting
together. It is not (as the philosopher speaks) a xwpigòv, but a xenróv
TI, not any thing separate from the soul, but something it pos
sesses, that can make it happy. It is not happy by an incommu-
nicate happiness, nor glorious by an incommunicate glory. In-
deed, the discovery of such a glory to an inglorious, unholy soul;
must rather torment than satisfy. The future glory of saints is
therefore called (Rom. 8. 18. εis hµãs, a glory to be revealed in
them (or into them, as the word signifies,) And in the foregoing
words, the apostle assures Christ's fellow-sufferers, that they
shall be glorified together with him. Surely the notation of that
word, the formal notion of glorification, cannot import so little as
only to be a spectator of glory; it must signify a being made glo-
rious.
Nor is the common and true maxim otherwise intelligible, that
grace and glory differ only in degree. For certainly it could ne-
ver enter into the mind of a sober man (though how dangerously
some speak, that might possibly have been so if too much learn-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
19
ing hath not made them mad, will be animadverted in its place,)
that objective glory, and grace in saints, were the same specific,
much less the same numerical, thing. It is true, that Scripture
often expresses the future blessedness, by vision of God.
But
where that phrase is used to signify it alone, it is evident (as
within the lower region of grace, words of knowledge do often
imply affection, and correspondent impressions on the Soul) it
must be understood of affective transformative vision, such as
hath conformity to God most inseparably conjunct with it. And
that we might understand so much, they are elsewhere both ex-
pressly mentioned together, as joint ingredients into a saint's
blessedness; as in those words so full of clear and rich sense :
"When he shall appear, we shall be like him: for we shall see
him as he is." Which text I take for a plain comment upon this:
and methinks it should not easily be supposable, they should both
speak so near the same words, and not intend the same sense.
You have in both, the same season, "when he shall appear,"
when I shall awake: the same subject the righteous person born
of God (compare the close of the former chapter with the begin-
ning of this); and I in righteousness :" the same vision we
shall see him as he is: "I shall behold his face :" the same as-
similation, "We shall be like him," I shall be satisfied with his
likeness; (concerning the oxidis or habitude this vision and as-
similation mutually have to one another, there will be considera-
tion had in its place). I therefore conceive neither of these no-
tions of the divine likeness, do exclude the other. If it be inquir-
ed, which is principally meant? That need not to be determined:
If the latter, it supposes the former; if the former, it infers the
latter. Without the first, the other cannot be; without this oth-
er, the first cannot satisfy.
66
If any yet disagree to this interpretation of this text, let them
affix the doctrine propounded from it, to that other last mentioned
(which only hath not the express mention of a consequent satis-
faction, as this hath; whence therefore, as being in this respect
fuller, my thoughts were pitched upon this.) Only withal let it
be considered, how much more easy it is, to imagine another
sense, and suppose it possible, than to disprove this, or evince it
impossible. How far probable it is, must be left to the judg-
ment of the indifferent: with whom it may not be insignificant
to add, that thus it hath been understood by interpreters (I might
adventure to say the generality) of all sorts.
20
THE BLESSEDNESS
CHAPTER II.
I. A summary proposal of the doctrine contained in this scripture: a distribu-
tion of it into three distinct heads of discourse. First. The qualified sub-
ject. Secondly. The nature. Thirdly. The season of the blessedness here
spoken of. II. The first of these taken into consideration, where the qual-
ification, righteousness, is treated of. About which is shewn. First. Ŵhat
it is. Secondly. How it qualifies.
I. Now the foregoing sense of the words being supposed, it ap-
pears that the proper argument of this scripture is,-The bless-
edness of the righteous in the other life, consisting in the vision
and participation of divine glory, with the satisfaction that re-
sulteth thence. In which summary account of the doctrine here
contained, three general heads of discourse offer themselves to
our view :-The subject, the nature, and the season of this bles-
sedness-Or to whom it belongs,-wherein it consists, and when
it shall be enjoyed.
II. We proceed to illustrate each of these.
First. We begin with the consideration of the subject, unto
whom this blessedness appertains. And we find it expressed
in the text, in these only words, "I; in righteousness;" which
amounts to as much as, a righteous person as such. They re-
present to us the subject of this blessedness in its proper quali-
fications: wherein, our business is to consider his qualification,
righteousness, under which notion only, he is concerned in the
present discourse; and about which, two things are to be in-
quired: namely—what it imports, and-how it qualifies.
1. What it imports. I take righteousness here to be opposed
to wickedness in the foregoing verse (as was intimated before);
and so understand it in an equal latitude, not of particular, but of
universal righteousness. That is, not that particular virtue which
inclines men to give every one their right (unless in that every
one, you would include also the blessed God himself, the sove-
reign, common Lord of all) but a universal rectitude of heart
and life, comprehending not only equity towards men, but piety
towards God also. A conformity to the law in general, in its
utmost extent, adequately opposite to sin (which is indeed of
larger extent than wickedness; and in what different respects
righteousness is commensurate to the one and the other, we
shall see by and by) as that is, generally, said to be dvouía, a
transgression of the law. (1. John, 3, 4.) Among moralists,* such
* Ἐν δὲ δικαιοσύνῃ συλλήβδην πᾶς ἀρετή εστι. Righteousness comprises
every virtue.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
21
a comprehensive notion of righteousness as is inclusive of all
other virtues, is not unknown. But in Scripture, it is its much
more ordinary acceptation. To give instances, were to suppose
too much ignorance in the reader; and to enumerate the passa-
ges in which this term is taken in that extensive sense, were too
great an unnecessary burden to the writer. It were indeed to
transcribe a great part of the Bible. How familiar is the oppo-
sition of righteous and wicked, and righteous and sinners, in sa-
cred language! And how fully co-extent righteousness is in
the Scripture notion of it, to the whole law of God, that one pas-
sage sufficiently discovers; where it is said of Zacharias and
Elizabeth, that they were both righteous before God, walking in
all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless.
Luke 1.5, 6. It is true indeed, that when the words godliness
or holiness are in conjunction with this term, its significancy is
divided and shared with them, so as that they signify, in that
case, conformity to the will of God in the duties of the first ta-
ble, and this is confined to those of the second: otherwise, be-
ing put alone, it signifies the whole duty of man, as the other
expressions also do in the same case especially the latter of them.
As it seems not to be within the present design of the context
to take notice of any imputed wickedness of the opposite sort of
persons, other than what was really in them, and whereby
they might be fitly characterized so, I conceive, that imputed
righteousness is not here meant, that is inherent in the person
of the Mediator; but that which is truly subjected in a child of
God, and descriptive of him. Nor must any think it strange,
that all the requisites to our salvation, are not found together in
one text of Scripture. The righteousness of him, whom we are
to adore as made sin for us, that we might be made the righte-
ousness of God in him; hath a much higher sphere peculiar and
appropriate to itself. This of which we now speak, in its own
inferior and subordinate place, is necessary also to be both had
and understood. It must be understood by viewing it in its
rule, in conformity whereto it stands; which must needs be
some law of God. There hath been a twofold law given by God
to mankind, as the measure of a universal righteousness, the one
made for innocent, the other for lapsed man; which are dis-
tinguished by the apostle under the names of the law of works,
and the law of faith. Rom. 3. 27. It can never be possible,
that any of the apostate sons of Adam should be denominated
righteous by the former of these laws, the righteousness thereof
consisting in a perfect and sinless obedience. The latter there-
fore is the only measure and rule of this righteousness, namely,
the law of faith; or that of the gospel-revelation which con-
tains and discovers our duty, what we are to be and do in order
to our blessedness; being, as to the matter of it, the whole mo-
rał law, before appertaining to the covenant of works, attem-
22
THE BLESSEDNESS
pered to the state of fallen sinners, by evangelical mitigations
and indulgence, by the super-added precepts of repentance and
faith in a Mediator, with all the other duty respecting the Me-
diator, as such; and clothed with a new form as it is now taken
into the constitution of the covenant of grace. This rule, though
it be in the whole of it capable of coming under one common
notion, as being the standing, obliging law of Christ's mediatory
kingdom; yet according to the different matter of it, its obliga-
tions and annexed sanctions are different. As to its matter, it
must be understood to require :
(1.) The mere being and sincerity of those gracious principles,
with their essential acts (as there is opportunity) expressed there-
in, in opposition to the nullity and insincerity of them.
(2.) All the possible degrees and improvments of such prin-
ciples and acts, in opposition to any the least failure or defect.
In the former respect, it measures the very essence of this
righteousness, and enjoins what concerns the being of the right-
eous man as such. In the latter, it measures all the super-ad-
ded degrees of this righteousness (which relations, where they
have a mutable foundation, admit,) enjoining what concerns the
perfection of the righteous man. In the former respect, right-
eousness is opposed to wickedness, as in that of the Psalmist,
I have kept the ways of the Lord, and have not wickedly depart-
ed from my God-therefore hath the Lord recompensed me ac-
cording to my righteousness. (Ps. 18. 21. 24.) In the latter to
sin, with which the apostle makes unrighteousness co-extent, in
these words, If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, &c.
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our
sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Accordingly
are its sanctions divers. For wherein it enjoins the former of
these, the essence of this righteousness, in opposision to a total
absence thereof, it is constitutive of the terms of salvation, and
obligeth under the penalty of eternal death. So are faith, re-
pentance, love, subjection, &c. required: If ye believe not
that I am he, ye shall die in your sins, He that believeth not, is
condemned already.-The wrath of God abideth on him. (Joh.
8. 24. Chap. 3. 18, 36.)—If ye repent not, ye shall all likewise
perish. Repent, that your sins may be blotted out.-Him hath
God exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour to give repentance and
remission of sins. (Luke 13. 3, 5. Act. 3. 19. c. 5. 31.) If any
man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema maran-
atha. (1 Cor. 16. 22.) He that loveth father or mother more
than me, is not worthy of me, &c. (Matt. 10. 27.) If any
man come to me, and hate not his father and mother, and wife
and children, and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also,
(that is, as the former scripture expounds this, loves them not
less than me,) he cannot be my disciple (Luke 14. 26.) that is
while he remains in that temper of mind he now is of, he must
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
23
needs be wholly unrelated unto me, and uncapable of benefit
by me, as well as he is indocible, and not susceptible of my
further instructions, neither capable of the precepts or priv-
leges belonging to discipleship. He is the author of eternal
salvation to all them that obey him, and will come in flaming fire
to take vengeance of those that know not God, and obey not his
Gospel; who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from
the presence of the Lord, &e. Heb. 5. 9. 2 Thes. 1. 8, 9. &c.
Where it is only the sincerity of those several requisites, that is
under so severe penalty exacted and called for; inasmuch as he
that is sincerely a believer, a penitent, a lover of God or Christ,
an obedient subject, is not capable of the contrary denomination,
and therefore not liable, according to the tenor of this law, to be
punished as an infidel, an impenitent person, an enemy, a rebel.
When it enjoins the latter, namely all the subsequent duty,
through the whole course whereof the already sincere soul must
be tending towards perfection; though it bind not thereto under
pain of damnation, further than as such neglects and miscarria-
ges, may be so gross and continued, as not to consist with sinceri-
ty yet such injunctions are not wholly without penalty; but
here it obliges, under less penalties, the hiding of God's face and
other paternal severities and castigations. They that thus only
offend, are chastened of the Lord, that they may not be con-
demned with the world. 1 Cor. 11. 32. Their iniquity is vis-
ited with the rod, and their transgression with stripes, though
loving-kindness be not taken away. Ps. 89. 32, 33. Yea, and
while they are short of perfect holiness, their blessedness is im-
perfect also; which is to be acknowledged a very grievous pen-
alty, but unconceivably short of what befalls them that are sim-
ply unrighteous. That it obliges thus diversly, is evident; for
it doth not adjudge unto eternal death without remedy, for the
least defect; for then what other law should relieve against the
sentence of this? or wherein were this a revealing law? Yet
doth it require perfection, that we perfect holiness in the fear of
God; 2. Cor. 7. 1. that we be perfect as our Father in heaven is
perfect. Mat. 5. 48. And otherwise, did it bind to no other
duty than what it makes simply necessary to salvation; the defects
and miscarriages that consist with sincerity, were no sins, not
being provided against by any law that is of present obligation
(unless we will have the law of nature to stand by itself as a
distinct law, both from that of works, and of grace; which is
not necessary; but as it did at first belong to the former, so it
doth now to the latter, as shall further be shown by and by.)
For to suppose the law of works in its own proper form and tenor,
to be still obliging, is to suppose all under hopeless condemnation,
inasmuch as all have sinned. And besides, it should oblige to cast
off all regard to Christ, and to seek blessedness without him; yea,
and it should oblige to a natural impossibility, to a contradiction,
24
THE BLESSEDNESS
to make that not to have been, which hath been; a sinner to seek
happiness by never having sinned. It cannot therefore entirely,
it its own form, as it was at first made and laid upon man, be of
present and continuing obligation to him. But in what part
aud respect it is or is not; comes now more distinctly to be
shown. Here know, the law of nature, with fit additionals, be-
came one formed constitution; which being violated by the apos-
tacy, became unuseful to the end it was made for, the contain-
ing of man within the bounds of such duty as should be con-
junct with his blessedness. Therefore was the new constitution
of the law of grace made and settled, which alters, adds to, takes
from it, relaxes, or re-enforces it, according as the matter of it,
the exigency of man's case, and God's gracious purpose and de-
sign could admit, and did require. For the promise (implied in
the threatening) it ceased; sin having disobliged the promiser.
For the precept the expressed positive part is plainly abrogate,
1 Tim. 4. For the natural part as it was not necessary, so nor
was it possible it should be so; its foundations being more stable
than heaven and earth. For the commination, we must un-
derstand two things in it first, that for every transgression, a
proportionable punishment must become due: secondly, that this
debt be in the event exacted: or, that God do actually inflict the
deserved penalty entirely and fully upon the offending person.
The former of these is in the strictest and most proper sense
natural, and therefore also unalterable. This dueness arising im-
mediately from the relation of a reasonable creature offending,
to his Maker. Whence also it is discernible to mere natural
light. Pagans are said (Rom. 1. 32.) to have known the right-
eous judgment of God, that they who commit such things (as
are there mentioned) are worthy of death. And hence was the
mention and dread of a Nemesis, and an exdıxov öppa a vindictive
Deity, and a revengeful eye over them so frequent with them.
"If therefore (as the learned Grotius speaks) there had never
been a penal law; yet a human act, having in itself a pravity,
whether intrinsical, from the immutable nature of the thing; or
even extrinsical, from the contrary command of God, had de-
served pnnishment, and that very grievous." Now what an ar-
bitrary constitution did not create, it could not nullify; but might
add strength, and give a confirmation to it. But now for the
latter, that this debt be entirely and fully exacted of the sinner
himself; though that be also natural, yet not in the strictest and
most proper sense. That is, it is convenient and agreeable to
the nature of the thing; not what it doth so necessarily require,
that it can upon no terms be dispensed with. It is so natural, as
that the son inherit from his father, which yet may, sometimes,
for just causes be ordered otherwise. It is what, if it were done,
justice could not but approve: not what it doth strictly and in-
dispensably require; or, is a debt which it might exact, but which
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
25
}
may, without injustice, upon valuable considerations be remitted.
The former of these, therefore, the new constitution doth no way
infringe or weaken, but confirm and reinforce. The latter it so far
dipenses with, as that, for the satisfaction made by the Redeemer,
the debt incurred by sin, be remitted to the sinner that truly repents
and believes, and continues sincerely (though imperfectly) to
obey for the future. So that his after-delinquencies, consisting
with such sincerity, do not actually, or in event, subject him to
other penalties, than the paternal rebukes and chastenings be-
fore-mentioned. But this latter part, considerable in the com-
mination, the determination of the full penalty, to the very per-
son of the transgressor, it doth not dispense with to others
(that is of the adult, and of persons in a present natural possibili-
ty of understanding the Law-giver's pleasure herein) than such
before described; but says expressly, he that believeth not the
Son, shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on him
(Joh. 3. 36.) That indignation and wrath, tribulation and an-
guish, shall be upon every soul of man that doth evil.-Rom. 2.
8. 9.
Therefore the morally preceptive part of the law of works, is
not in force as man's rule of duty, considered in conjunction with
the promise; that is, it doth not now say to any man, “Do this,
that is, perfectly obey without ever having sinned, that thou
may'st live." Both which he was obliged to eye conjunctly; the
former, as containing the rule; the other the end, in part, of his
obedience but it is in force even by the new constitution itself
as God's rule of judgment, considered in conjunction with the
commination, upon all whom the law of grace relieves not, as not
coming up to the terms of it; whom also this supervening law
brings under a supervening aggravated condemnation. For where
the obligation to obedience is violated, the obligation to punish-
ment naturally takes place. We see then how far the law of
works is in force, it is to be looked on as taken into the new con-
stitution of the law of grace, is evident. For it is new modifi-
ed, and hath received a new mould and stamp by this law: which
is now become (so far as it is promulgate) the standing rule of
government over the lapsed world. The principal modifying act
herein, is dispensation. Now this, it is true, may be so under-
stood, or may be taken in such a sense, as wherein it will only
belong to the executive part of government: that is, when it is
not the act of the same power that made the law; as where only
the execution of a deserved penalty is dispensed with, which may
be done, in some cases, by a Judge that is only a minister of the
law, and not the maker of it; being (as may be supposed) ena-
bled thereto by that law itself or by an authority annexed to his
office; or by virtue of instructions, which leave to him some lat-
itude of managing the affairs of his judicature in a discretionary
way, as present occasions shall dictate. And yet by none of
VOL. I.
4
26
THE BLESSEDNESS
these would any change be made in the law; but this is dispen-
sation in a less proper sense. In the proper and more famous
sense, dispensation belongs to the legislative part of government,
being the act of the same power that made the former law, now
dispensed with; and an act of the same kind, namely, legislation;
the making of a new law that alters the former which it hath re-
lation to whence it was wont to be reckoned amongt hose things
that make a change in a law. And so the case is here. (Vid.
Suarez de Legibus.) The former law is dispensed with by the
making of a new one; which so alters and changes it in its mat-
ter and frame, and more immediate end, as hath been shewn: and
a changed law is not the same.
Nor is it at all strange, that the minatory part of the law of
works related to the preceptive so as with it to constitute the
debt of punishment, should be now within the compass of the
Redeemer's law. For by this applied, and urged on the con-
sciences of sinners, he performs a necessary preparatory part of
his work for their recovery, namely, the awakening, the humbling
them; and reducing them to a just and useful despair of relief
and help, otherwise than by his merciful hand and vouchsafe-
ment; and the rendering them hereby capable of his following
applications. Cutting or lancing, with other such severities, are
as proper and useful a part of the chirurgeon's business, as the
applying of healing medicines: nor have they the same design
and end for which wounds are inflicted by an enemy, the taking
away of life, but the saving of it. And the matter is out of doubt
that the most rigorous determination of the penalty that shall be
understood duly belonging to the least sin, hath a place, and
doth stand visibly extant to view in the publicly avowed declar-
ation, and among the placita or decretals of the Redeemer. We
there read, that whosoever shall say to his brother, fool, shall be
in danger of hell-fire: (Mat. 5. 22.) (yea, and the lower degrees
of the same kind of sin, do expose to lower degrees of the same
kind of punishment, as our Saviour's words must be understood
if we attend the plain meaning of his allusive and borrowed
phrase of speech:) That the wages of sin is death: Rom. 6.
23. That as many as are of the works of the law, are under
the curse for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth
not in all things written in the book of the law to do them. Gal.
3. 10. 22. And we are told, that the Scripture (which is the
word of Christ, and was written not for innocent, but lapsed
man) hath concluded all under sin. Where also we find what is
the true intent and end of this rough and sharp dealing with
men, the shutting them up, like sentenced malefactors, as in or-
der to execution (which seems to be the import of the word
duVéxλside here used) namely, that the promise by faith of Jesus
Christ might be given to them that believe (or to them believ-
ing, as the words may be read.) And moreover the Spirit, which
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
27
breathes not in the law of works, as such, but in the law of
grace, performs that operation which belongs to it, as it hath the
name of the spirit of bondage, by applying and binding on the
sentence of death, as due to the guilty person.
Therefore we must understand the Redeemer's Constitution to
have two parts. First, An assertion and establishment of the
ancient determined penalty due for every transgression; and to
be certainly inflicted on all such as accept not the following offer
of mercy upon the terms prescribed. Whereby the honor and
justice of the Creator is saved and vindicated, in reference to
the first covenant made with man. And the case of the sinner is
plainly stated before him, that he may have a distinct and right
apprehension of it. Secondly, The grant of pardon and eternal
life to those that repent unfeignedly of their sins, and turn to
God; believing in the Mediator, and resigning themselves to his
grace and government, to be by him conducted, and made accept-
able to God in their return, and that continue sincere herein to
the end. Whereby the wonderful mercy of God in Christ is
demonstrated, and the remedy is provided and ascertained to the,
otherwise, lost and hopeless sinner. And these two parts there-
fore are to be looked on in this constitution, though distinct-
ly, yet not separately. The sinner is, at once to consider the
same penalty as naturally, and by divine sanction, due to him;
but now graciously to be remitted; the same blessedness as just-
ly lost, but mercifully to be restored, with a high improvement.
And to own both these jointly, as the voice of the Redeemer in
his gospel. Death is due to thee; blessedness forfeited by thy
having sinned: but if thou sincerely repent, believe and obey
for the future, thou art pardoned, and entitled to everlasting life.
It therefore now appears, that as the law or dictates of pure
nature, comprehended together with other fit additionals, became
at first one entire constitution aptly suited to the government of
man in his innocent state, unto which the title did well agree of
the law or covenant of works: so the same natural dictates,
transcribed and made express (because now sullied, and not so
legible in the corrupted nature of man) do, with such allays and
additions as the case required, compose and make up the consti-
tution which bears the title of the law or covenant of grace,
or the law of faith, or the gospel of Christ, and is only suit-
able to the state of man lapsed and fallen; as the measure
of that righteousness which he is now to aim at, and aspire
unto. The rule of this righteousness therefore being evidently
the law of faith, the gospel-revelation, wherein it is preceptive
of duty this righteousness can be understood to be nothing but
the impress of the gospel upon a man's heart and life: a confor-
mity in spirit and practice to the revelation of the will of God
in Jesus Christ; a collection of graces exerting themselves in
suitable actions and deportments towards God and man; Christ
28
THE BLESSEDNESS
formed in the soul, or put on; the new creature in its being and
operations; the truth learned as it is in Jesus, to the putting off
the old man, and the putting on the new. More distinctly, we
may yet see wherein it lies, upon a premised view of some few
things necessary to be fore-known in order thereunto. As,
that this righteousness is a renewing righteousness, or the right-
eousness of one formerly a sinner, a lapsed perishing wretch,
who is by it restored into such a state towards God, as he was in
before that lapse (in respect of certain great essentials, though
as yet his state be not so perfectly good, while he is in his ten-
dency and motion; and shall, by certain additionals, be unspeak-
ably better, when he hath attained the end and rest he is tend-
ing to.)
That a reasonable creature, yet untainted with sin, could not
have a temper of mind suitable to such apprehensions as these,
namely, That as it was not the author of being to itself, so it
ought not principally to study the pleasing and serving of itself,
but him who gave it being; that it can no more continue and
perfect itself unto blessedness, than it could create itself; and
can therefore have no expectation hereof, but from the same
author of its being; and hence, that it must respect and eye the
great God, its Creator and Maker: as, The sovereign authority
whom it was to fear and obey, and the sovereign good whom it
was to love and enjoy. But because it can perform no duty to
him, without knowing what he will have it to do: nor have any
particular expectation of favors from him, without knowing what
he will please to bestow; and is therefore obliged to attend to
the revelations of his will concerning both these: it is therefore
necessary, that he eye him under a notion introductive and sub-
servient to all the operations that are to be exerted towards him,
under the two former notions; that is, as the eternal never-fail-
ing truth, safely to be depended on, as intending nothing of
deceit in any the revelations, whether of his righteous will, con-
cerning matter of duty to be done; or of his good will concern-
ing matter of benefit to be expected and enjoyed:-That man
did apostatize and revolt from God, as considered under these
several notions; and returns to him, when a holy rectitude is
recovered, and he again becomes righteous, considered under the
same: That it was not agreeable to God's wisdom, truth, and le-
gal justice, to treat with man a sinner in order to his recovery,
but through a mediator; and that therefore he was pleased in
wonderful mercy to constitute and appoint his own Son Jesus
Christ, God-man, unto that office and undertaking; that through
him, man might return and be reconciled to himself, whom he
causelessly forsook; designing that he shall now become so af-
fected towards himself, through the mediator; and firstly there-
fore towards the mediator's own person, as he was before, and
ought to have been towards himself immediately.
THE RIGHTEOUS.
29
:
Therefore, whereas God was considerable in relation to man,
both in his innocency and apostacy, under that fore-mentioned
twofold notion of the supreme authority and goodness; He hath
also set up and exalted our Lord Jesus Christ, and represent-
ed him to sinners under an answerable two-fold notion of a Prince
and a Saviour. That is a mediating Prince and Saviour to give
repentance first; to bow and stoop the hearts of sinners, and re-
duce them to a subject posture again, and then by remission of
sins to restore them to favor, and save them from the wrath to
come. Him hath the Father clothed with his own authority,
and filled with his grace; requiring sinners to submit themselves
to his ruling power, and commit themselves to his saving mercy;
now both lodged in this his Son to pay him immediately all
homage and obedience, and through him ultimately to himself;
from him immediately to expect salvation and blessedness, and
through him ultimately from himself. That whereas the spirits
of men are not to be wrought to this temper, but by the inter-
vention of a discovery and revelation of the divine will to this
purpose; our Lord Jesus Christ is further appointed by the Fa-
ther to reveal all this his counsel to sinners: and is eminently
spoken of in Scripture upon this account, under the notion of the
truth; in which capacity he more effectually recommends to sin-
ners both his authority and his grace. So that his threefold (so
much celebrated) office of King, Priest, and Prophet, (the dis-
tinct parts of his general office as mediator) which he manages
in order to the reducement of lost sinners, exactly correspond
(if you consider the more eminent acts and properties of each
office) to that threefold notion under which the spirit of man
must always have eyed and been acted towards God, had he ne-
ver fallen; and hence this righteousness, which consists in con-
formity to the gospel, is the former righteousness, which was
lost; with such an accession as is necessary, upon consideration
that it was lost, and was only to be recovered by a mediator.
Therefore you may now take this short, and as compendious an
account as I can give of it, in what follows. It includes so firm
and understanding an assent to the truth of the whole gospel re-
velation, as that the soul is thereby brought, through the power
of the Holy Ghost, sensibly to apprehend its former disobe-
dience to God, and distance from him, the reasonableness of sub-
jection to him, and desirableness of blessedness in him; the ne-
cessity of a Redeemer to reconcile and recover it to God; the
accomplishments and designation of the Lord Jesus Christ to
that purpose: and hence, a penitent and complacential return to
God, as the supreme authority, and sovreign Good, a humble
and joyful acceptance of our Lord Jesus Christ as its Prince and
Saviour, with submission to his authority, and reliance on his
grace (the exercise of both which are founded in his blood,)
looking and pitching upon him, as the only medium, through
30
THE BLESSEDNESS
which he and his duties can please God, or God and his mercies.
approach him; and through which he hath the confidence to ven-
ture upon a covenant-acceptance of God, and surrender of him-
self to him, afterwards pursued to his uttermost, by a continued
course of living in his fear and love, in obedience to him, and
communion with him through the Mediator, always, while he is
passing the time of his pilgrimage in this world, groaning under
remaining sin, and pressing after perfect holiness; with an ear-
nest expectation (animating him to a persevering patience
through all difficulties) of a blessed eternity in the other world.
That such a conformity to the gospel should be expressed by the
name of righteousness, cannot seem strange to such as acquaint
themselves with the language of the Scripture. That gracious
frame which the gospel (made effectual) impresses upon the soul,
is the kingdom of God, in the passive notion of it, his kingdom
received, and now actually come with power upon our spirits.
And this kingdom (sometimes also by an apt synecdoche called
judgment in the same notion) is said to consist in rightghteous-
ness; whence then result also, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.
Rom. 14. 17. The same holy impressions and consequent ope-
rations are mentioned by the apostle under the name of fruits of
righteousness, wherewith he prays his Philippians might be fil-
led. (Phil. 1. 11.) It was Elymas's opposition to the gospel,
that stigmatized him with that brand, "Thou enemy of all right-
eousness." To yield ourselves servants to righteousness, in op-
position to a former servitude to sin, is obeying from the heart
the doctrine of the gospel, into the type or mould whereof we
have been cast or delivered. Rom. 6. 17. And sure, both the
seal and the impression, God's revelation, and holiness (however
A now more explicit and distinctly conspicuous in all their parts)
are the same, with us substantially, and in David's time; whence
we need make no difficulty to own this latter, when we meet
with it, as here, under the same name. By what hath hitherto
been said, it may be already seen in part, how exactly this right-
eousness corresponds to the blessedness for which it qualifies;
whereof we shall have occasion hereafter to take further notice.
In the mean time, it will be requisite to shew which was promis-
ed to be done in the next place.
Secondly. How it qualifies. To which I say (very briefly)
that it qualifies for this blessedness two ways:
1. Legally, or in genere Morali, as it describes the persons,
who by the gospel-grant have, alone, title thereunto.-The
righteous into life eternal, (Mat. 25. 26.)-The unrighteous
shall not inherit the kingdom of God. (I. Cor. 6. 9.) Say to
the righteous, it shall be well with them. (Isa. 3. 10.) The
righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him.—In his right-
eousness he shall live. (Ezek. 18. 23.) In which last words,
how this righteousness conduceth to life, is expressed by the
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
31
same proposition as in the text.
In this kind it is not at all cau-
sal of this blessedness, but it is that which the free, and wise,
and holy Law-giver thought meet, by his settled constitution
(besides what necessity there is of it upon another account) to
make requisite tbereto. The conformity of our Lord Jesus
Christ to that severer law, under which he is said to have been
made, is that which alone causes, merits, purchases this blessed-
ness; which yet is to be enjoyed, not by all indiscriminatim, or
without distinction, but by such alone, as come up to the terms
of the gospel; as he did fully satisfy the strict exactions of that
other rigid law, by doing and suffering for their sakes.
2. Naturally, or in genere Physico. In this kind it may be
said to be some way causal, that is, to be causa materialis dispo-
sitiva, by a proper positive influence, disposing the subject unto
this blessedness, which that it shall, yet, enjoy, is wholly to be
resolved into the divine good pleasure, but it is put by this holy
rectitude in that temper and posture that it may enjoy it through
the Lord's gracious vouchsafement; when without it, it were
naturully impossible that any should. An unrighteous impure
soul, is in a natural indisposition to see God, or be blessed in
him. That depraved temper averts it from him, the steady bent
of its will is set another way, and it is a contradiction that any
(in sensu composito) should be happy against their wills, that is
while that aversion of will yet remains. The unrighteous ban-
ish themselves from God, they shun and hate his presence.
Light and darkness cannot have communion. The sun doth
but shine, continue to be itself, and the darkness vanishes, and is
fled away. When God hath so determined, that only the pure in
heart shall see him; that without holiness none shall; he lays no
other law upon holy souls, than what their own impure natures
lay upon themselves. If therefore it should be inquired, Why
may not the unrighteous be subjects of this blessedness, see God,
and be satisfied with his likeness, as well as the righteous? the
question must be so answered, as if it were inquired, Why doth
the wood admit the fire to pass upon it, suffer its flames to in-
sinuate themselves till they have introduced its proper form, and
turned it into their own likeness: but we see water doth not so,
but violently resists its first approaches, and declines all com-
merce with it? The natures of these agree not. And is not
the contrariety here as great. We have then the qualified sub-
jects of this blessedness, and are next to consider this blessed-
ness itself.
32
THE BLESSEDNESS
CHAPTER III.
I. The next thing proposed in the preceding chapter which was Secondly,
to show the nature of this blessedness, which is considered, in the three in-
gredients (here mentioned) whereof it consists. 1. Vision of God's face. 2.
Assimilation to him. 3. The satisfaction resulting thence. II. These pro-
pounded to be considered, First. Absolutely and singly each by itself. Se-
condly. Relatively, in their mutual respects to each other. The first of
these, Vision of God's face, discoursed of. 1. The Object. 2. The Act.
I. Now for the nature of this blessedness, or the inquiry
wherein it lies, so far as the text gives us any account of it,
we are here invited to turn our thoughts and discourse to it.
And we have it here represented to us in all the particulars that
can be supposed to have any nearer interest in the business of
blessedness, or to be more intimate and intrinsical thereunto.
For (the beatific object supposed) what more can be necessary to
actual, complete, formal blessedness, than the sight of it, an
adaption or assimilation to it, (which is nothing else but its being
actually communicated and imparted to the soul, its being united
and made as it were one with it) and the complacential fruition
the soul hath of it so communicated, or having so transformed it
into itself?
tr
And these three are manifestly contained in the text (the bea-
tific object being involved with them) the first in the former
clause; "I shall behold thy face;" the second and third in the
latter, "I shall be satisfied with thy likeness;" where, being
made like to God hath been discovered to be supposed; and the
satisfaction, the pleasant contentful relishes consequent thereto,
plainly expressed. We shall therefore have stated the entire na-
ture of this blessedness in the handling of these three things;
-vision of the face of God:-participation of his likeness, and
-satisfaction therein.
II. And I shall choose to consider them absolutely, and singly,
each by itself, and relatively, in the mutual respects (by way of
influence and dependance) they may be found to have towards
each other. Therefore,
First, in the absolute consideration of them severally we be-
gin with
1. The vision of God's face, where—the object; The face of
God, and, the act of seeing and beholding it, are distinctly to
be spoken to.
!
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
33
(1.) The object of this vision, the face of God which is his
glory represented, offered to view. And this objected or exhi-
bited glory is twofold :-sensible, such as shall incur and gratify
(after the resurrection) the bodily eye, and-intellectual, or in-
telligible; that spiritual glory that only comes under the view
and contemplation of the glorified mind.
[1.] A sensible glory (to begin with what is lower) is fitly in
our way to be taken notice of, and may well be comprehended
(as its less principal intendment) within the significancy of the
expression; the face of God. So indeed it doth evidently signi-
fy, Exod. 33. 11. And if we look to the notation of the word,
and its frequent use as applied to God, it may commodiously
enough, and will often be found to signify, in a larger and more
extended sense, any aspect or appearance of God. And though
it may be understood (ver. 23.) of that chapter, to signify an
over-coming spiritual glory, as the principal thing there intended,
such as no soul dwelling in flesh could behold, without rending
the vail, and breaking all to pieces; yet, even there also, may
such a degree of sensible glory be secondarily intended, as it was
not consistent with a state of mortality to be able to bear. And
supposing the other expression "Thy likeness;" to signify, in
any part, the objective glory saints are to behold; it is very ca-
pable of being extended so far, as to take in a sensible appearance
of glory also, which it doth in these words, "The similitude of
the Lord shall he behold :" (Numb. 12. 8.) yet even that glory
also was transformative and impressive of itself: Moses so long
conversed with it, till he became uncapable, for the present, of
conversing with men, as you know the story relates. ` Ezek. 1.
28. Exod. 34, 35, &c.
Such a glory as this, though it belong not to the being of God,
yet it may be some umbrage of him, a more shadowy representa-
tion, as a man's garments are of the man, which is the allusion
in that of the Psalmist, That art clothed with majesty and honor:
Thou coverest thyself with light as with a garment. Psal. 104.
1, 2. And inasmuch as that spiritual body (the house not made.
with hands, 2, Cor. 5. 1.) wherewith the blessed are to be cloth-
ed upon, must then be understood to have its proper sensitive
powers and organs *refined to that degree, as may be agreeable
to a state of glory; so must these have their suitable objects to
converse with. A faculty without an object, is not possible in
nature, and is altogether inconsistent with a state of blessedness.
The bodies of saints will be raised in glory, fashioned like
Christ's glorious body; must bear the image of the heavenly;
(1. Cor. 14. 43. Phil. 3. 21.) and this will connaturalize them to
a region of glory, render a surrounding, sensible glory necessary
* Cuilibet potentiæ activæ respondet passiva, sive objectiva: To every active
faculty, there corresponds a passive or objective one.
VOL. I.
5
34
THE BLESSEDNESS
and natural to them, their own element: they will, as it were,
not be able to live but amidst such a glory. Place is conserva-
tive of the body placed in it, by its suitableness there. Indeed
every created being (inasmuch as it is not self-sufficient, and is
obliged to fetch in continual refreshings from without) must al-
ways have somewhat suitable to itself to converse with, or it
presently languishes. By such a harmony of actives and pas-
sives, the world consists and holds together. The least defect
thereof then, is least of all supposable in the state of blessedness.
The rays of such a glory have often shone down into this lower
world. Such a glory we know shewed itself upon the Mount
Sinai afterwards often about the tabernacle, and in the temple;
such a glory appeared at our Saviour's birth, baptism, and trans-
figuration; and will do at his expected appearance; which leaves.
it no unimaginable thing to us, and shews, how facile it is to God
to (do that which will then be, in some soit necessary) create a
glory meet for the entertainment and gratification of any such
faculty, as he shall then continue in being. But,
[2.] The intellectual glory, That which perfected spirits shall
eternally please themselves to behold, calls for our more especial
consideration. This is the glory that excelleth, hyperbolical glo-
ry, as that expression regßasons dóğns (2. Cor. 3. 10.) imports;
such, as in comparison whereof, the other is said to be no glory:
as the apostle speaks, comparing the glory of the legal with that
of the evangelical dispensation, where the former was, we must
remember, chiefly a sensible glory, the glory that shone upon
Mount Sinai; the latter a purely spiritual glory; and surely, if
the mere preludes of this glory, the primordia, the beginnings
of it, the glory-yet shining but through a glass, (as he there
also speaks of his glory) were so hyperbolically glorious, what
will it be in its highest exultation, in its perfected state? The
apostle cannot speak of that, but with hyperbole upon hyperbole
in the next chapter. Kab' inspßoλnv εis væεpßoλýv. (2. Cor. 4. 17.)
as though he would heap up words as high as heaven to reach it,
and give a just account of it. Things are as their next originals.
This glory, more immediately rays forth from God, and more
nearly represents him. It is his more genuine production. He
is styled the Father of Glory: (Eph. 1. 17.) every thing that is
glorious is some way like him, and bears his image. But he is
as well the Father of Spirits, (Heb. 12. 9.) as the Father of Glo-
ry; and that glory, which is purely spiritual, hath most in it of
his nature and image as beams but in the next descent from the
body of the sun. This is his unveiled face, and emphatically, the
divine likeness. Again, things are as the faculties which they
are to exercise and satisfy; this glory must exercise and satisfy
the noblest faculty, of the most noble and excellent creature.
Intellectual nature, in the highest improvement it is capable of
in a creature, must here be gratified to the uttermost; the most
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
35
enlarged contemplative power of an immortal spirit find that
wherein it terminates here, with a most contentful acquiescence.
It is true it must be understood not totally to exceed the capaci-
ty of a creature, but it must fully come up to it. Should it quite
transcend the sphere of created nature, and surpass the model
of a human understanding (as the divine glory undoubtedly
would, did not God consider us in the manner of exhibiting it
to our view) it would confound, not satisfy. A creature even
in glory is still a creature, and must be treated as such. After
the blessed God hath elevated it to the highest pitch, he must
infinitely condescend: it cannot otherwise know or converse
with him. He must accommodate his glory to the weaker eye,
the fainter and more languid apprehensions of a poor finite thing.
I had almost said nothing, for what is any creature, yea, the whole
creation in its best state, compared with the I AM, the being (as he
justly appropriates to himself that name) the Ail in All. We
must be careful then to settle in our own thoughts such a state
of this glory (in forming that indeterminate notion we have now
of it) as may render it (though confessedly above the measure
of our present understandings as to a distinct knowledge of it)
not manifestly incompetent to any created understanding what-
soever, and as may speak us duly shy of ascribing deity to a
worm, of affixing any thing to the creature, which shall be found
agreeing to the blessed God himself alone. Their expressions.
therefore who over-magnify (even deify) the creature assumed
into glory, must be heard and read with caution and abhorrency,
as the high-swelling words of blasphemous vanity. Is it not
enough that perishing wretches, that were within one hand's
breadth of hell, are saved, except they be also deified too? that
they become happy, unless they also become gods? The dis-
tance even of a glorified creature from the glorious God, is still
infinitely greater, than between it and the silliest worm, the minu-
test attom of dust.
And by how much more we shall then know of his glory, so
much more shall we understand that distance. Yet as he shall
then enlarge the capacity of the soul he glorifies, to a very vast
comprehension, so shall the exhibition of his glory to it, be fully
adequate to its most enlarged capacity. They are as yet but ob-
scure glimmerings, we can have of this glory; but so far as,
without too bold curiosity, we may, and wherein Scripture-light
will give us any pre-apprehension of it, let us consider a while,
the nature and the excellency of it. We cannot indeed consider
these separately; for we can no sooner understand it to be glory,
than we conceive it excellent; glory, in the proper notion of it,
being nothing else but resplendent excellency, the lustre of ex-
cellency, or real worth made conspicuous. Yet as there is an
excellency conceivable in the nature of it, that excellency
whereof it is the splendor and brightness; so we must conceive
•
36
!
THE BLESSEDNESS
a peculiar excellency of that very radiation, that splendor itself,
wherewith it shines unto blessed souls. In its very nature it is
the brightness of divine excellencies: in its present appearance,
it shines in the highest excellency of that brightness; in its na-
ture it excelleth all things else: in its present exhibition, com-
pared with all its former radiations, it excelleth itself.
As to the nature of this glory, it is nothing else but the con-
spicuous lustre of divine perfections. We can only guide our
present conceptions of it, by the discovery God hath already
given us of himself, in those several excellencies of his being,
the great attributes that are convertible and one with him. When
Moses besought him for a sight of his glory, he answers him
with this, "I will proclaim my name before thee."
His name,
we know, is the collection of his attributes. The notion there-
fore we can hence form of this glory, is only such as we may
have of a large volume by a brief synopsis or table; of a mag-
nificent fabric, by a small model or platform; a spacious country,
by a little landscape. He hath here given us a true representa-
tion of himself, not a full; such as will secure our apprehen-
sions, being guided thereby, from error, not from ignorance. So
as they swerve not in apprehending this glory, though they still
fall short. We can only apply our minds to contemplate the
several perfections which the blessed God assumes to himself,
and whereby he describes to us his own being; and can in our
thoughts attribute them all to him, though we have still but low
defective conceptions of each one. As if we could at a distance
distinguish the streets and houses of a great city; but every
one appears to us much less than it is.
is. We can apprehend some-
what of whatsoever he reveals to be in himself; yet when all is
done, how little a portion do we take up of him! Our thoughts
are empty and languid, straight and narrow, such as diminish and
limit the Holy One. Yet so far as our apprehensions can corres-
pond to the discovery he affords us of his several excellencies,
we have a present view of the divine glory. Do but strictly
and distinctly survey the many perfections comprehended in his
name, then gather them up, and consider how glorious he is!
Conceive one glory resulting from substantial wisdom, goodness,
power, truth, justice, holiness, that is, beaming forth from him
who is all these by his very essence, necesssarily, originally, in- '
finitely, eternally, with whatsoever else is truly a perfection.
This is the glory blessed souls shall behold for ever.
For the excellency of it, it is called by way of discrimination,
"The excellent glory." 2. Pet. 1. 17. There was glory put
upon Christ in the transfiguration; of which, when the apostle
speaks, having occasion to mention withal the glory of heaven
itself, from whence the voice came; he adds to this latter, the
distinguishing note of the excellent. He himself was eye-wit-
ness of the honour, and majesty, and glory, which the Lord Je-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
37
sus then received; but beyond all this, the glory from whence
the voice came, was the excellent or stately glory, as the word
Meyaλorgerous imports. It is a great intimation how excellent a
glory this is, that it is said to be a glory yet to be revealed; (1.
Pet. 4. 13.) as if it had been said, whatever appearances of the
divine glories are now offered to your view, there is still some-
what undiscovered, somewhat behind the curtain that will out-
shine all. You have not seen so much, but you are still to ex-
pect unspeakably more. Glory is then to shine in its noon-day
strength and vigor: it is then in its meridian. Here, the riches
of glory are to be displayed, certain treasures of glory, the plen-
itude and magnificence of glory. We are here to see him as he
is; to know him as we are known of him. Certainly, the dis-
play of himself, the rays of his discovered excellency, must hold
proportion with that vision, and be therefore exceeding glorious.
It is the glory Christ had with the Father before the foundations
of the world were laid; (John 1. 5.) into the vision and com-
munion whereof holy souls shall now be taken, according as their
capacities can admit; that wherewithal his great achievements
and high merits shall be rewarded eternally; that wherewith he
is to be glorified in heaven, in compensation of having glorified
his Father on earth, and finished the work whereto he was ap-
pointed. This cannot but be a most transcendent glory. It is
in sum, and in the language of the text, the glory of God's own
face, his most aspectable, conspicuous glory. Whose transform-
ing beams are productive of the glory impressed, the next in-
gredient into this blessedness, which will presently come to be
spoken of, after we have given you some short account of,
(2.) The act of beholding: the vision or intuition itself, by
which intervening the impression is made. Glory seems to car-
ry in it a peculiar respect to the visive power (whether corpo-
real or mental, as it is itself of the one kind or the other); it is
something to be contemplated, to be looked upon. And being
to transmit an impression, and consequent pleasure to another
subject, it must necessrily be so, it can neither transform nor sa-
tisfy but as it is beheld. And here the sensitive intuition I shall
not insist on, as being less intended in the text, and the discourse
of it less suitable to such as with a spiritual mind and design set
themselves to inquire into the nature of the saints' blessedness.
Yet, as this is the most noble, comprehensive, quick, and spright-
ly sense, so is the act of it more considerable, in the matter of
blessedness, than any other of the outward man, and the most
perfect imitation of the act of the mind; whence also this so
often borrows the name of the other, and is called seeing. It is
an act indeed very proper and pertinent to a state of glory. By
how much more any sensible object is glorious (supposing the
sensorium to be duly disposed and fortified, as must be here sup-
posed), so much it is the fitter object of sight; hence when we
38
THE BLESSEDNESS
5
22
would express a glorious object, we call it conspicuous; and the
less glorious, or more obscure any thing is, the less visible it is,
and the nearer it approaches to invisibility; whence that saying
in the common philosophy, "To see blackness is to see nothing.
Arist. in 3. Meteorolog. Cap. de Iride. Whatsoever a glorified
eye, replenished with a heavenly vitality and vigor, can fetch in
from the many glorified objects that encompass it, we must sup-
pose to concur to this blessedness. Now is the eye satisfied with
seeing, which before never could.
But, it is intellectual sight we are chiefly to consider here,
that, whereby we see him that is invisible, and approach the in-
accessible light. The word here used, some critics tell us, more
usually signifies the sight of the mind. And then, not a casual,
superficial glancing at a thing, but contemplation, a studious, de-
signed viewing of a thing when we solemnly compose and apply
ourselves thereto; or the vision of prophets, or such as have
things discovered to them by divine revelation, (thence called
chozim, seers,) which imports (though not a previous design,
yet) no less intention of mind in the act itself. And so it
more fitly expresses that knowledge which we have, not by dis-
course and reasoning out of one thing from another, but by im-
mediate intuition of what is nakedly, and at once offered to our
view, which is the more proper knowledge of the blessed in
heaven. They shall have the glory of God so presented, and
their minds so enlarged, as to comprehend much at one view; in
which respect they may be said, in a great degree, to know as
they are known, inasmuch as the blessed God comprehends all
things at once, in one simple act of knowing. Yet that is not to
be understood as if the state of glory should exclude all ratio-
cination, more than our present state doth all intuition, (for first
and indemonstrable principles we see by their own light, with-
out illation or argument); nor can it be inconvenient to admit,
that while the knowledge the blessed have of God is not infinite,
there may be use of their discursive faculty with great fruit and
pleasure. Pure intuition of God, without any mixture of rea-
soning, is acknowledged (by such as are apt enough to be over-
ascribing to the creature) peculiar to God alone. But as the
blessed God shall continually afford (if we may speak of con-
tinuity in eternity, which yet we cannot otherwise apprehend)
a clear discovery of himself, so shall the principal exercise, and
felicity of the blessed soul consist in that less laborious and more.
pleasant way of knowing, a mere admitting or entertaining of
those free beams of voluntary light, by a grateful intuition;
which way of knowing, the expression of sight, or beholding,
doth most incline to; and that is, we are sure, the ordinary lan-
guage of Scripture about this matter. Matt. 5. 8. 12. 14) Cog-
noscere Deum clare et intuitive est proprium et naturale soli
Deo, sicut est proprium igni calefacere et soli illuminare: to
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
39
know God clearly and intuitively is peculiar and natural to
God alone; as it is peculiar to fire to give warmth and to the
sun to give light. Ledesm. de divin. perfect. p. 8. Art. 7.
CHAPTER IV.
I. Having considered the 1. ingredient of this blessedness, "Vision of God's
face," we pass on to the next, that is, 2, Assimilation to God, or his glory
impressed. Wherein it consists, discovered in sundry propositions. II.
The last ingredient, which is, 3, The satisfaction and pleasure which re-
sults, stated and opened.
I. And now, upon this vision of the blessed face of God next
follows, in the order of discourse,
2. The soul's perfect assimilation unto that revealed glory, or
its participation thereof (touching the order of the things them-
selves have one to another, there will be consideration had in its
proper place) and this also must be considered as a distinct and
necessary ingredient into the state of blessedness we are treat-
ing of. Distinct it is, for though the vision now spoken of, doth
include a certain kind of assimilation in it, as all vision doth, be-
ing only a reception of the species or likeness of the object seen;
this assimilation we are to speak of, is of a very different kind.
That, is such as affects only the visive or cognitive power, and
that not with a real change, but intentional only, nor for longer
continuance than the act of seeing lasts; but this, is real, total,
and permanent. And surely it is of equal necessity to the soul's
blessedness, to partake the glory of God, as to behold it; as well
to have the divine likeness impressed upon it, as represented to
it. After so contagious and over-spreading a depravation as sin
hath diffused through all its powers, it can never be happy with-
out a change of its very crasis and temper throughout. A dis-
eased, ulcerous body would take little felicity in gay and glori-
ous sights: no more would all the glory of heaven signify to a
sick, deformed, self-loathing soul.
It must therefore be all glorious within, have the divine nature
more perfectly communicated, the likeness of God transfused
and wrought into it. This is the blessed work begun in regen-
eration; but how far it is from being perfected, we may soon
find by considering, how far short we are of being satisfied in
our present state, even in the contemplation of the highest and
most excellent objects. How tasteless to our souls are the
thoughts of God! How little pleasure do we take in viewing
40
THE BLESSEDNESS
:
over his glorious attributes! the most acknowledged and adora-
ble excellencies of his being! And whereunto can we impute it
but to this, that our spirits are not yet sufficiently connaturalized
to them? Their likeness is not enough deeply instamped on our
souls. Nor will this be, till we awake. When we see better
we shall become better; when he appears, we shall be like him,
for we shall see him as he is. But do we indeed pretend to such
an expectation? Can we think what God is, and what we are
in our present state, and not confess these words to carry with
them an amazing sound, "we shall be like him! How great a
hope is this! How strange an errand hath the gospel into the
world! How admirable a design! to transform men and make
them like God! Were the dust of the earth turned into stars in
the firmament! were the most stupendous, poetical transforma-
tions assured realities; what could equal the greatness and the
wonder of this mighty change! Yea, and doth not the expecta-
tion of it seem as presumptuous, as the issue itself would be
strange; is it not an over-bold desire; too daring a thought; a
thing unlawful to be affected, as it seems impossible to be attain-
ed? It must be acknowledged there is an appearance of high
arrogance in aspiring to this, to be like God. And the very
wish or thought of being so, in all respects, were not to be en-
tertained without horror. It is a matter therefore that requires
some disquisition and explication, wherein that impressed like-
ness of God consists, which must concur to the saints' blessed-
ness. In order hereunto then take the following propositions :
(3.) There is a sense wherein to be like God is altogether
impossible, and the very desire of it the most horrid wickedness.
The prophet in the name of God charges the proud prince of Tyre
with this, as an inexpiable arrogance that he did set his heart as
the heart of God, and upon this score challenges and enters the
list with him: Come, you that would fain be taken for a God, I
will make a sorry God of thee before I have done; Because
thou hast set thy heart as the heart of God, I will set those upon
thee, that shall draw their swords against the beauty of thy wis-
dom, and that shall defile thy brightness; And what! Wilt thou
yet say in the hand of him that slayeth thee, I am a God? Thou
shalt be a man, and no God, in the hand of him that slayeth thee;
I have spoken it saith the Lord God. Ezek. 28. 6-10. He will
endure no such imitation of him, as to be rivalled in the point
of his Godhead. This is the matter of his jealousy; "They
have moved me to jealousy with not-God," (Deut. 32. 21.) so it
is shortly and more smartly spoken in the original text.
see how he displays his threats and terrors hereupon in the fol-
lowing verses. This was the design and inducement of the first
transgression, to be as gods. And indeed all sin may be reduced
hither. What else is sin (in the most comprehensive notion)
but an undue imitation of God? an exalting of the creature's will
And
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
41
into a supremacy, and opposing it as such to the divine? To
sin, is to take upon us, as if we were supreme, and that there
were no Lord over us; it is to assume to ourselves a deity, as if
we were under no law or rule; as he is not under any, but what
he is to himself. Herein, to be like God, is the very core and
malignity of sin.
(2.) There is a just and laudable imitation of God, a likeness
to him, that is matter of command, praise and promise, as wherein
both the duty, excellency and blessedness of the reasonable
creature doth consist; and which is in some respect inseparable
from the nature of man. We are required to be followers of
God, as dear children, (Eph. 1. 5. μsai) imitators the word is.
David is commended as a man after God's own heart; though
but now, we saw in another, with what disdain and indignation
it was resented, that he did set his heart, as the heart, of God.
The new creature, the new man, the first fruits, as he is called,
the flower of the creation, is made after God. Jam. 1. 18. Eph.
4. 24. Saints expect, upon the assurance of his word, to be
more fully like him, as we see in the text, and parallel places.
Yea, man was made at first with a concreate similitude to God,
which we know was the counsel of heaven, and the result and
issue of that counsel, Gen. 1. 26. 27. This is evident enough in
itself, and needs no more words. But to make a further step in
this business, observe next,
(3.) There can be no allowable imitation of any one, but with
an exception, as to some peculiarities that may belong to his spe-
cial station, relation, and other circumstances of the condition in
which he is; or with limitation to such things as are of common
concernment unto both.* It is commonly observed, how natu-
rally a people form their manners and fashions to the example of
the prince; and there is no well-disposed ruler, but would take
it well, to be imitated in things that are of common concernment
to him and his subjects, that is, that concern him, not as he is a
king, but as he is a man, or a christian. To behold the trans-
forming power of his own example; where it is such as begets
a fair and unreproachful impress; how his virtues circulate (his
justice, temperance, love of religion,) and produce their likeness
among his people; it will be a glory, and cannot but be resented
with some delight. We cast an honor upon them whom we im-
itate for we acknowledge an excellency in them (which is all
that honoring imports in the first notion of it,) and that natural-
ly is received with pleasure. But now, should subjects aspire to
:
*Regis ad exemplum totus componitur orbis; the whole nation is conform-
ed to the example of the King.
Nam facere rectè bonus princeps faciendo docet. Cumque sic imperio
maximus, exemplo major est: for a good prince teaches virtue by his own
practice. And thus while he is supreme in authority, he is superior in exam-
ple. Velleius Paterculus, Rom. Hist. 1. 2.
VOL. I.
6
;
42
8
THE BLESSEDNESS
a likeness to their prince, in the proper appendages and acts of
sovereignty; and because he is a glorious king, they will be such
too; and assume the peucliar cognizances of regality; ascend the
throne, sway the sceptre, wear the crown, enact laws, &c. There
cannot be more of dutifulness and observance in the former imi-
tation, than there is of disloyalty and treason in this. A father
is pleased, to have his son imitate him, within such limits before-
mentioned; but, if he will govern the family, and fill up his room
in all relations, this will never be endured.
(4.) There are some things to be found in the blessed God,
not so incommunicable and appropriate, but that his creatures
may be said to have some participation thereof with him and
so far, to be truly like him. This participation cannot be univo-
cal; as the nature of a living creature in general, is equal in men
and brutes; so, it is a self-evident principle, that inter Deum et
creaturam nihil est commune, nothing can be common to God
and an inferior being. Nor is it only an equivocal, a participa-
tion of the same name, when the natures signified thereby are
altogether diverse: but analogical, in as much as the things spo-
ken, under the same names, of God and the creature, have a
real likeness, and conveniency in nature with one another and
they are in God, primarily; in the creature, by dependance, and
derivation in him, essentially, as being his very essence; in
them, but as accidents, (many of them) adventitious to their be-
ings; and so while they cannot be said to be the same things in
them, as in him, are fitly said to be his likeness.
(5.) This likeness, as it is principally found in man, among all
the terrestrial creatures; so hath it, in man, for its seat and sub-
ject, his soul or spiritual part. The effects of divine wisdom,
power, goodness, are every-where visible, throughout the whole
creation; and as there is no effect, but hath something in it, cor-
responding to its cause (wherein it was the cause ;) so, every
creature doth, some way or other, represent God. Some in vir-
tues, some in life, some in being* only. The material world re-
presents him, as a house does the builder; but spiritual beings,
as a child does the father r yag yévos soμev, for we are his offspring.
Other creatures (as one, P. Fclineus de cognitione Dei, fitly
expresses it) carry his footsteps; these, his image; and that, not
as drawn with a pencil, which can only express figure and color;
but as represented in a glass, which imitates action and motion.
*Multis enim modis dici res possunt similes Deo; aliæ secundúm virtutem,
& sapientiam, factæ; quia in ipso est virtus & sapientia non facta; aliæ in
quantum solum vivunt, quia ille summé & primò vivit; aliæ in quantum
sunt, quia ille summé ? et primitus est. For there are many respects in
which creatures may be said to be like God: some with regard to virtue and
wisdom, inasmuch as there are in him, virtue and wisdom, uncreated; others
merely from their possession or share of life, whereas he possessess life in
the highest and first sense; others in being only, but he is the highest and
first of beings. Aug. 80 quest. q. (nibi) 211.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
43
To give the pre-eminence therefore, in this point to the body
of man, was a conceit so gross, that one would wonder how it
should obtain; at least in the Christian world.
Yet we find it expressly charged by St. Augustine upon the
anthropomorphites of old (or melitonians, as he calls them, from
one Melito the father of them) not only, that they imagined God
in a human shape (which was their known conceit) but that they
stated God's image in man, in his body, not his soul. Nor
are Van Helmont's fancies, about corporeal likeness, capable
of excuse by any thing, but that they were a dream (as they
are fitly stiled) and not likely to impose upon the waking reason
of any man.
(6.) This image or likeness of God in the spirit of man, re-
presenting what is communicable in him, is either natural or mo-
ial. There is first, a natural image of God, in the soul of man,
which is inseparable from it; and which it can never divest itself
of. Its very spiritual, immortal nature itself, is a representa-
tion of his. Its intellective and elective powers are the image
of what we are constrained to conceive under the notion of the
same powers in him. Yea, the same understanding with the me-
+
+
*Heathens have disdained and declaimed against so unworthy thoughts of
God. Το δὲ θεῖον αυ το α' σρατον οφθαλμοίς, αῤῥητον φωνή, αναφὲς
σagni, &c. the divine essence itself is not to be seen by the eye, uttered by the
voice, shewn in the flesh, &c. Maximus Tyr. Dissert. 1. The same author
warns us to take heed, that we ascribe to God, Μήτε μέγεθος, μήτε χρώμα,
μήτε χρήμα, μήτε άλλο τι ύλης πάθος, neither size, nor colour, nor form,
nor any other property of matter. Ibid.
Unto which purpose is that decantate distich of Homer, Ov' ya'g Oitor,
&c. And that saying of Pliny, Quam propter effigiem Dei formamque quærere;
imbecillitatis humanæ reor, applied by Zanc. de operibus Dei. Wherefore I think
it a proof of human weakness to seek after any image or form of God. And
we may see much of like import alleged by Natal. Com. lib. 1. p. 13. Which
(by the way) discovers how flatly opposite the idolatry, forbidden in the se-
cond commandment, is to the light of nature itself. Which hath been also
the just apology of the ancient patrons of the Christian cause, for the simpli-
city of their worship in this respect; and their not imitating the pompous
vanity of pagan image-worship.
Οὐδὲ θείας εικονας υπολαμβάνομεν
εἶναι τα αγάλματα, άτε μορφήν αόρατες θες καὶ ασωμάτε μη διαγράφ
OrTES, &c. we do not esteem images of God to be proper ornaments, because we
cannot delineate the form of the invisible and spiritual Deity. Origen contr.
Celsum. lib. 7.
To which purpose see at large, Min. Felix, Quod simulacrum Deo fingam?
&c. what image shall I make for God?
And surely it is as improveable against the same piece of Christian pagan-
ism. The usually assigned differences would easily be shewn to be trifling
impertinencies.
+Corpus hominis non animum esse imaginem Dei; not the soul but the
body of man is the image of God. Aug. (if it be Augustine's) lib. de hæresi-
bus. See Dr. Charleton of his image of God in man.
Est Dei similitudo quædam, quam nemo vivens, nisi cum vita exuit: quam
habet homo et volens, et nolens, &c. there is a certain likeness of God which
no man living divests himself of, but with life, which every man has wheth-
er willing or not. Bernard, de vita Solitar.
44
THE BLESSEDNESS
mory and will, in one soul, are thought a lively resemblance of
the* triune Deity. But there is further a similitude of him in
respect of moral virtues or perfections answering to what we
conceive in him, under that notion: his wisdom (so far as it hath
the nature of a moral virtue) his mercy, truth, righteousnesss,
holiness, &c. These two kinds or parts (as they may be called)
of the divine impress upon the spirits of men, are distinguished
by some (I see not how properly) by the distinct names of im-
age, denoting the former; and similitude the latter: answering,
as is thought, to two Hebrew words, (Zanc.) of the like import:
but the things themselves are evidently enough distinct, namely,
what perfects the nature of man in genere physico, as he is such
a particular being in the universe: and what perfects him, in ge-
nere morali, as he is considerable in reference to a law or rule
guiding him to blessedness, as his end.
(7.) It is a likeness to God in respect of those moral excel-
lencies or perfections, that is especially considerable by us, in
reference to our present purpose; as more immediately relating
to the soul's blessedness in God. By the former it hath a poten-
tiality, by the latter an habitude in reference thereunto. Or (to
use terms, more liable to common apprehension) by the former
it hath a remoter capacity, by the latter a present fitness: or
as the apostle expresses it, is made meet to be partaker of the
inheritance of the saints in light, that is, considering this like-
ness as begun in the soul.
(8.) Besides what is thus (in the sense before expressed) com-
municable between God and man, there are some things so pe-
culiarly appropriate to God, as that, in respect of them, there
can be no formal likeness in the creature: and it would be im-
pious boldness to aspire thereto. Many things of this kind might
be mentioned: I shall only instance in two, wherein there is a
manifest competition of the apostate world with him; and which
are therefore more relative to practice; his sovereign authority,
and his independency. In these while men affect to imitate,
they wickedly affront him. And here is the great controversy
between the glorious God, and the degenerous children of men.
Every man would catch at a Godhead, and either assume it to
himself, or cast it, many times, upon other creatures viler and
more ignoble than himself; snatch the reins of government out
of God's hand; and exalt their own wills into an absoluteness,
as liable to control from none place and settle their dependance.
on their own wit, power, fortitude, industry; or, if that be a
more hopeless course (for they often find an entire Godhead too
much for one creature, and are therefore constrained to parcel it
*D. Aug. (fuse) lib. 10. de Trinitat.
†Sed est alia, magis Deo propinqua, similitudo, quæ in virtutibus consistit :
but there is another more intimate resemblance to God which consists in vir-
tue.
Bernard.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
45
1
out among many) place their confidences and expectations in
something else without them: do often, that ridiculous thing, so
worthy to be hooted at, make the congested dirt of the earth
their trust, (the righteous shall laugh at him, and say, Lo! this
is the man that trusted in riches. Psal. 52. 6. 73.); their wealth
their strong tower; which only the name of the Lord is to his
righteous ones. Yet, all the while, self is the centre and end
in which all must meet and terminate. This at last carries away
the assumed fictitious deity. And this thing, that is thus now
made like God, is an idol (which indeed signifies so much) and
this imitation of him, wicked idolatry; than which nothing more
debases a reasonable soul, or divests man of himself, that till
they redress this, they give no proof of their being men. Isa.
46. 8. This assimilation of ourselves to God is very remote
then from being a perfection: it is a most reproachful deformity:
as we know imitations, if they be visibly affected, and strained
too far, are always thought ridiculous by wise men.
(9.) Though, in respect of these incommunicable things, there
cannot be a proper, formal, immediate similitude to God; yet,
there ought to be a correspondency; which must be measured
and estimated by the consideration of his state, and ours;
whence it will appear, that what so properly appertains to him,
and what ought to correspond thereto in us, do agree to each,
upon one and the same intervening reason.
For instance, is he absolutely supreme in as much as he is the
first being. The correspondent impression with us, and upon
the same reason, must be a most profound, humble self-subjec-
tion, disposing our souls to constant obedience to him. Again,
is he simply independent; as being self-sufficient and all in all.
The impression with us must be a nothingness, and self-empti-
ness, engaging us to quit ourselves, and live in him. This is
the only conformity to God, which with respect to his incom-
municable excellencies, our creature-state can admit. It may be
also stiled a likeness to him, being a real conformity to his will
concerning us, and his very nature as it respects us.
We may
conceive of it, as of the likeness between a sea!, and the stamp
made by it; especially, supposing the inequality of parts in the
seal to be by the protuberancy of what must form the signature.
In that case there would be a likeness, aliquatenus, that is an
exact correspondency but what would then be convex or bulg-
ing out in the seal, would be, as we know, concave or hollow in
the impression. Such is the proportion between sovereignty
and subjection, between self-fulness and self-emptiness. Where-
as a similitude to God, in respect of his communicable perfec-
tions, is as that, between the face and its picture; where no such
difference is wont to appear.
:
(10.) Assimilation, or conformity to God, in both these re-
spects, composes that excellent frame of moral perfections, which
46
THE BLESSEDNESS
""
the divine glory, beheld, impresses upon the soul; and which
immediately conduces to its satisfaction and blessedness. I say,
moral perfection, because that only is capable of being impress-
ed by the intervening ministry of our own understanding;
namely, by its vision, intimated, as was formerly observed, in
that of the apostle," We shall be like him—for we shall see him,'
&c. Its natural perfections are antecedent and presupposed,
therefore not so fitly to be understood here. And I say, both
these ways; for, as we cannot form an entire idea of God, with-
out taking in, together, his perfections of both sorts, communi-
cable, and incommunicable, (the former whereof must serve in-
stead of a genus; the latter of a differentia,) in composing the
notion of God, Thes. (Salmu. de Deo immenso :) so nor will his
impress on us be entire, without something in it respecting both;
in the senses already given. What it will contribute to future
blessedness, we shall shortly see, in its place, when we have
made a brief inquiry (which is the next thing, according to our
order proposed) concerning,
Where it will
3. The satisfaction that shall hence accrue.
not be beside our purpose, to take some notice of the signifi-
cancy of the word. And not to insist on its affinity to the word
used for swearing, or rather, being sworn, (which; an oath be-
ing the end of controversies, and beyond which we go no fur-
ther, nor expect more, in way of testifying; would, the more
fitly here represent to us the scul in its non-ultra: having at-
tained the end of all its motions, and contentions,) its equal
nearness to the word signifying the number of seven, is not al-
together unworthy observations. That number is, we know,
often used in Scripture, as denoting plenitude and perfection;
and God hath, as it were signalized it, by his rest on the seventh
day: * and if this were not designedly pointed at here in the
present use of this word, (as it must be acknowledged to be fre-
quently used where we have no reason to think it is with such
an intendment) it may yet occasion us to look upon the holy soul
now entered into the eternal sabbath † the rest of God: which,
(secluding all respect to that circumstance) is, yet, the very
* How fit a Symbol it is of God's Sabbatic rest, see Dr. More's defence of
his Philosophical Cabbala from Philo. Judæus.
† Erit ibi verè maximum Sabbatumi, non habens vesperam, quod commen-
davit Dominus in primis operibus mundi; ut legitur, et requievit die Septi-
mo-Dies enim Septimus etiam nos ipsi erimus, quando ipsius fuerimus ben-
edictionum et sanctificationum pleni atque referti; ibi vacabimus et videbi-
mus, videbimus et amabimus, amabimus, laudabimus, &c. There shall be in
reality a great sabbath having no evening, which God distinguished at th e
very creation of the world; as it is written "and he rested on the seventh
day.' For the seventh day sha'l be ever with us, when we shall be com-
pletely filled with blessings and graces. There we shall rest and contem-
plate; contemplate and love; love and praise. Aug. de civit Dei lib: 22, c.
38, vid. eund. de civit. Dei 1. 17, c. 4.
""
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
47
substance and true notion of the thing itself (to the consideration
For this
whereof I now pass) under the word held forth to us.
satisfaction, is the soul's rest in God; its perfect enjoyment of
the most perfect good: the expletion of the whole capacity of
its will; the total filling up of that vast enlarged appetite; the
perfecting of all its desires in delight and joy. Now delight or
joy (for they differ not, save that the latter word is thought
something more appropriate to reasonable nature) is fitly defined
Quies appetitus in appetibili: the rest of the desiring faculty in
the thing desired. (Abuin. Sum.) Desire and delight, are but
two acts of love, diversified, only by the distance, or presence
of the same object: which, when it is distant, the soul, acted
and prompted by love, desires, moves towards it, pursues it;
when present and attained, delights in it, enjoys it, stays upon it,
satisfies itself in it, according to the measure of goodness it finds
there. Desire, is therefore, love in motion: delight, is love in
rest. And of this latter delight or joy, Scripture evidently gives
us this notion, he will rejoice over thee with joy, (unto which
is presently added as exegetical,) he will rest in his love:
(Zeph. 3. 17.) which resting can be but the same thing with be-
ing satisfied. This satisfaction then is nothing else but the re-
pose and rest of the soul amidst infinite delights: its peaceful
acquiescence, having attained the ultimate term of all the motions,
beyond which it cares to go no further: the solace it finds in an
adequate, full good; which it accounts enough for it, and beyond
which, it desires no more; reckons its state as good as it can be,
and is void of all hovering thoughts, (which perfect rest must
needs exclude,) or inclination to change.
And so doth this being satisfied, not only generally signify the
soul to be at rest; but it specifies that rest; and gives us a dis-
tinct account of the nature of it. As, that it is not a forced, vio-
lent rest; such as proceeds from a beguiled ignorance, a drowsy
sloth, a languishing weakness, or a desire and hope of happiness,
by often frustrations baffled into despair, (to all which, the native
import and propriety of that word satisfaction doth strongly re-
pugn.) But it discovers it to be a natural rest: I mean, from an
internal principle. The soul is not held in its present state of
enjoyment by a strong and violent hand; but rests in it by a
connaturalness thereunto: is attempered to it, by its own inward
constitution and frame. It rests not as a descending stone, inter-
cepted by something by the way, that holds and stops it; else it
would fall further; but as a thing would rest in its own centre ;
with such a rest as the earth is supposed to have in its proper
place; that being hung upon nothing, is yet unmoved ponderi-
bus librata suis, equally balanced by its own weight every way.
It is a rational, judicious rest; upon certain knowledge that
its present state is simply best, and not capable of being chan-
ged for a better. The soul cannot be held under a perpetual
48
THE BLESSEDNESS
cheat, so as always to be satisfied with a shadow. It may be so
befooled for a while, but if it remain satisfied, in a state that
never admits of change; that state must be such, as commends
itself to the most thoroughly informed reason and judgment. It
is hence a free, voluntary, chosen rest: such as God professes his
own to be in Zion; this is my rest, here will I dwell, for I have
desired it. Psal. 123. 14. It is a complacential rest, wherein
the soul abides steady, bound only by the cords of love; a rest
in the midst of pleasantness; Psal. 16. 6. The Lord is my por-
tion, the lots are fallen to me in amanitatibus; it cannot be
more fitly expressed than amidst pleasantness: and this speaks
not only what the Psalmist's condition was, but the sense, and
account he had of it. That temper of mind gives us some idea
of that contentful, satisfied abode with God, which the blessed
shall have. He intimates, how undesirous he was of any
change. Their sorrows (he told us above) should be multiplied
that hasten after another God. (Ver. 4.) Hereafter there will
be infinitely less appearance of reason for any such thought.
Now, it is the sense of a holy soul, "Whom have I in heaven
but thee? and there is none I desire on earth besides the :" as
if he said, Heaven and earth yield not a tempting object, to di-
vert me from thee it is now so, at sometimes, when faith and
love are in their triumph and exaltation (but the Lord knows how
seldom!) but much more when we see him as he is, and are sa-
tisfied with his likeness! It is an active, vigorous rest. Action
about the end, shall be perpetuated here, though action towards
it, ceases. It is the rest of an awakened, not of a drowsy, slug-
gish soul; of a soul satisfied by heavenly sensations and fruitions:
not uncapable of them; or that hath its powers bound up by a
stupifying sleep. It is the rest of hope, perfected in fruition, not
lost in despair; of satisfied, not defeated expectation. *Despair
may occasion rest to a man's body, but not to his mind; or a
cessation from further endeavors, when they are constantly found
vain, but not from trouble and disquiet; it may suspend from ac-
tion, but never satisfy. This satisfaction therefore speaks both
the reality and nature of the soul's rest in glory: that it rests;
and with what kind of rest.
:
* I think it not worth the while to engage in the dispute (so much agitated
between the Thomists ond Scotists) whether blessedness do formally consist
in this satisfying fruition, or in the antecedent vision: this satisfaction is cer-
tainly inseparable from it, and I see not how to be excluded out of its formal
notion: it is not vision, as vision; but as satisfying, that makes us happy
and to talk of the satisfaction or pleasure which the understanding hath in
knowing is insipid: while the soul understanding, that is, the mind, knows it
is the soul enjoying, that is, the will, is pleased and finds content: and till the
soul be fully contented, it is not blessed, and it is, by being so, when it saith,
"Now am I fully satisfied. I have enough, I desire no more."
OF THE RIGHTEOUS,
49
2
+
CHAPTER V.
1. The three ingredients of this blessedness having been considered abso-
lutely, we come-Secondly. To their relative consideration; where it is pro-
pounded to shew particularly: 1. What relation vision hath to assimilation.
2. What both these have to satisfaction. The relation between the two
former, inquired into. An entrance upon the much larger discourse, what
relation and influence the two former have towards the third: What vision
of God's face or glory, contributes towards satisfaction, estimated from the
consideration, 1. Of the object, the glory to be beheld; as it is divine, entire,
permanent, appropriate.
I. Thus far have we viewed the parts or necessary concur-
rence, of which the blessedness of the saints must be composed
absolutely and severally each from other: we proceed,
Secondly. To consider them relatively, namely, in the mutu-
al respects they bear one to another; as they actually compose
this blessed state. Wherein we shall shew particularly the re-
lation, by way of influence, and dependance, between vision, and
assimilation and-Between both these and the satisfaction,
that ensues: which latter I intend more to dwell upon; and on-
ly to touch the former, as a more speculative and less improvea-
ble subject of discourse, in my way to, this.
I. It may be considered-What relation there may be between
vision of God, and assimilation, or being made like to him; and
it must be acknowledged (according to what is commmonly ob-
served of the mutual action of the understanding and will) that
the sight of God, and likeness to him, do mutually contribute
each towards other. The sight of God assimilates, makes the
soul like unto him; that likeness more disposes it for a continued
renewed vision. It could never have attained the beatifical vi-
sion of God, had it not been prepared thereto, by a gradual pre-
vious likeness to him.* For righteousness (which we have
shewn qualifies for this blessedness) consists in a likeness to
God and it could never have been so prepared, had not some
knowledge of God introduced that conformity and yielding bent
*Which necessity of a likeness to God to dispose for the vision of him, is
excellently expressed by a platonic philosopher. The divine nature, the
το θεῖον, which he saith, is liable to no sense, μόνῳ δὲ τῷ τῆς ψυχῆς καλ
λίζω και καθαρωτάτῳ, καὶ νοερωτάτῳ, καὶ κεφοτάτῳ καὶ πρεσβυτάτω,
oʻqaro`r di oʻμolo'tηtα, &c. is yet visible, to that in the soul whic his most beau-
tiful, most pure, most perspicuous, most sublime, most noble, in respect of a cer-
tain similitude and cognition that is between them. Max. Tyr.
VOL. I.
7
50
THE BLESSEDNESS
of heart towards him. For the entire frame of the new man,
made after the image of God, is renewed in knowledge. Col. 3.
:
But as, notwithstanding the circular action of the under-
standing and will upon one another, there must be a beginning of
this course somewhere, and the understanding is usually reckon-
ed the yeμovxov, the first mover, the leading faculty: so, notwith-
standing the mutual influence of these two upon each other,
seeing hath a natural precedency, and must lead the way unto
being like; which is sufficiently intimated in the text, "I shall
behold thy face," and then "I shall be satisfied with thy
likeness;" and more fully in that parallel scripture: "We shall
be like him, for we shall see him," &c. From whence also,
and from the very nature of the thing, we may fitly state the re-
lation of the first of these to the second, to be that of a cause to
its effect sight begets likeness, is antecedent to it, and produc-
tive of it. That is, the face or glory of God seen; that glory in
conjunction with our vision of it: for the vision operates not,
but according to the efficaciousness of the thing seen; nor can
that glory have any such operation, but by the intervention of
vision. It is therefore the glory of God seen, as seen, that assi-
milates, and impresses its likeness upon the beholding soul and
so its causality is that of an objective cause (which whether it
belong to the efficient or final, I shall not here dispute) that
operates only as it is apprehended: so introducing its own form,
and similitude into the subject it works upon. Such a kind of
cause were Jacob's streaked rods of the production that ensued ;
and such a cause is any thing whatever, that begets an impression
upon an apprehensive subject, by the mediation and ministry, whe-
ther of the fancy or understanding. This kind of causalty the
word hath in its renewing, transforming work; and the sacra-
ments, wherein they are causal of real physical mutations on the
subjects of them. So much of the image of God as is here im-
pressed upon souls by gospel-dispensations, so much is impressed
of his glory. The work of grace is glory begun. And now,
as glory initial, and progressive in this life enters at the eye-
(beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, we are changed,
2. Cor. 3. 18.) so doth perfect and consummate glory in the
other life. For we have no reason to imagine to ourselves any
alteration in the natural order the powers of the soul have to-
wards each other, by its passing into a state of glory.
The object seen, is unspeakably efficacious; the act of intui-
tion is full of lively vigor; the subject was prepared, and in a
disposition before; and what should hinder, but this glorious
effect should immediately ensue? as the sun no sooner puts up
his head above the hemisphere, but all the vast space, whither it
can diffuse its beams, is presently transformed into its likeness
and turned into a region of light. What more can be wanting to
cause all the darkness of atheism, carnality, and every thing of
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
51
sin, forever to vanish out of the awaking soul; and an entire
frame of holiness to succeed: but one such transforming sight of
the face of God? One sight of his glorious majesty presently
subdues, and works it to a full subjection: one sight of his puri-
ty makes it pure; one sight of his loveliness turns it into love;
and such a sight always remaining, the impress remains always
actually (besides that it is in itself most habitual and permanent
in the soul's now confirmed state) fresh and lively.
The object hath quite another aspect upon a wicked soul,
when it awakes; and the act of seeing is of another kind; there-
fore no such effect follows. Besides, the subject is otherwise
disposed, and therfore as the sun enlightens not the inward parts
of an impervious dung-hill, but it enlightens air; so the sight of
God transforms and assimilates at last, not a wicked, but it doth
a godly soul. That which here makes the greatest difference,
in the temper of the subject, is love. I look upon the face of a
stranger and it moves me not; but upon a friend and his face
presently transforms mine into a lively cheerful aspect. As iron
sharpens iron, so doth the face of a man his friend, (Prov. 27. 17.)
puts a sharpness and a quickness into his looks. The soul that
loves God, opens itself to him, admits his influences and impres-
sions, is easily moulded and wrought to his will, yields to the
transforming power of his appearing glory. There is no resist-
ant principle remaining, when the love of God is perfected in it;
and so overcoming is the first sight of his glory upon the awa-
king soul, that it perfects it, and so his likeness, both at once.
But enmity fortifies the soul against him, as with bars and doors;
averts it from him; carries with it a horrid, guilty conscious-
ness; which fills it with eternal despair and rage, and inwraps it
in the blackness of darkness forever.
2. Both the vision of God, and likeness to him, must be con-
sidered in their relation to the consequent satisfaction, and the
influence they have in order thereto. I say both; for though
this satisfaction be not expressly and directly referred by the
letter of the text, to the sight of God's face; yet its relation
thereto, in the nature of the thing, is sufficiently apprehensible
and obvious: both mediate, in respect of the influence it hath
towards the satisfying assimilation; and immediate, (which we
are now to consider,) as it is so highly pleasurable in itself; and
is plainly enough intimated in the text: being applied, in the
same breath, to a thing so immediately and intimately conjunct
with this vision, as, we find it is. Moreover, supposing, that
likeness here, do (as it hath been granted it may) signify objec-
tive glory, as well as subjective glory, and repeat what is con-
tained in the former expression, "the face of God," the reference
satisfaction hath to this vision, (which the re-mention of its ob-
ject, though under a varied form of expression, supposes) will be
more express therefore we shall shew-what the vision of the
52
THE BLESSEDNESS
divine glory contributes to the satisfaction of the blessed soul,
and what felicity it must needs take herein: which cannot but
be very great, whether we respect-the glory seen, the object
of this vision: or-the act of vision, or intuition itself.
(1.) The object, the glory beheld. What a spring of plea-
sure is here? What rivers of pleasures flow hence? In thy pre-
sence (saith the Psalmist) is fulness of joy: at thy right hand
are pleasures for evermore. Psal. 16. 11. The awaking soul,
having now passed the path of life, (drawn through Sheol itself,
the state of deadly-head,) appears immediately in this presence;
and, what makes this presence so joyous, but the pleasant bright-
ness of this face? To be in the presence of any one, and be-
fore his face, in conspectu, are equivalent expressions: there.
fore the apostle quoting this passage, renders it thus, Thou hast
filled me with gladness, by thy (countenance ;) now in this glo-
rious presence, or within view of the face of God, is fulness of
joy, that is, joy unto satisfaction*. And the apostle Jude speak-
ing of this presence under this name (a presence of glory) tells
us of an exceeding joy, κατενώπιον της δόξης a jubilation (an αγαλλ
iaris) that shall attend the presentment of saints there. The
holy soul now enters the divine Shechinah, the chamber of pre-
sence of the great king, the habitation of his holiness and glory,
the place where his honor dwelleth. ver. 24. Here his glory
surrounds it with encircling beams; it is beset with glory, there-
fore surely also filled with joy. When the vail is drawn aside;
or we are within the vail; in that very presence whither Jesus
the forerunner is for us entered (through the path of life,) O
the satisfying overcoming pleasure of this sight! Now that is
to us revealed, or unveiled glory, which was hidden before.
Here the glory set in majesty (as the expression is, concerning
the glory of the temple, Ezek. 7. 20.) is presented to view open-
ly and without umbrage. God is now no longer seen through an
obscuring medium. They are not now shadowed glimmerings,
transient, oblique glances, but the direct beams of full-eyed glo-
ry that shine upon us. The discovery of this glory is the ulti-
mate product of that infinite wisdom and love, that have been
working from eternity, and for so many thousand years, through
all the successions of time, towards the heirs of salvation. The
last and complete issue of the great achievements, sharp conflicts,
glorious victories, high merits of our mighty Redeemer. All
these end in the opening of heaven (the laying of this glory as
it were common) to all believers. This is the upshot, and closc
of that great design will it not think ye be a satisfying glory!
The full blessedness of the redeemed, is the Redeemer's reward.
He cannot be satisfied in seeing his seed, if they should be un-
:
*Act: 2. 28. which indeed is the Seventies' reading of the Psalmist's
words.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
53
satisfied. He cannot behold them with content if his heart tell
him not, that he hath done well enough for them. God would
even be ashamed (Heb. 11. 16.) to be called their God; had he
not made provision for their entertainment worthy of a God. It
is the season of Christ's triumphs, and saints are to enter into his
joy. It is the appointed jubilee, at the finishing of all God's
works from the creation of the world, when he shall purposely
shew himself in his most adorable majesty, and when Christ shall
appear in his own likeness (he appeared in another likeness
before;) surely glory must be in its exaltation in that day. But
take a more distinct account, how grateful a sight this glory will
be, in these following particulars.
[1.] It is the divine glory. Let your hearts dwell a little upon
this consideration. It is the glory of God, that is the glory
which the blessed God both enjoys and affords, which he contem-
plates in himself, and which rays from him to his saints; it is the
felicity of the divine Being. It satisfies a Deity, will it not a
worm? It is a glory that results and shines from him; and in that
sense also divine (which here I mainly intend ;) the beauty of
his own face, the lustre of divine perfections; every attribute
bears a part; all concur to make up this glory. And here pre-
termitting those which are less liable to our apprehension; his
eternity, immensity, simplicity, &c. (of which, not having their
like in us,) we are the more uncapable to form distinct concep-
tions, and consequently of perceiving the pleasure, that we may
hereafter upon the removal of other impediments, find in the
contemplation of them, let us bethink ourselves, how admirable
and ravishing the glory will be,
First. Of his unsearchable wisdom, which hath glory pecu-
liarly annexed and properly belonging to it. Glory is as it were,
by inheritance, due to wisdom. The wise shall inherit glory.
Prov. 3. 36. And here, now, the blessed souls behold it in its
first seat, and therefore in its prime glory: wisdom, counsel, un-
derstanding, are said to be with him; as if no where else. Job
12. 13. Twice we have the apostle describing glory to God,
under the notion of only wise; (Rom. 16. 27. I. Tim. I. 17.)
Wisdom, we know is the proper and most connatural glory of
intellectual nature: whether as it relates to speculation, when we
call it knowledge; or action, when it is prudence. How plea-
sant will the contemplation be, of the divine wisdom, in that
former notion! When in that glass, that speculum aternitatis,
mirror of eternity, we shall have the lively view of all that truth,
the knowledge whereof can be any way possible and grateful to
our natures; and in his light, see light! When all those vast
treasures of wisdom and knowledge, (Col. 2. 3.) which already
by their alliance to Christ, saints are interested in shall lie open
to us! When the tree of knowledge shall be without enclosure;
and the most voluptuous epicurism, in reference to it, be inno-
54
THE BLESSEDNESS
cent! Where there shall neither be lust, nor forbidden fruit ;
no withholding of desirable knowledge, nor affectation of unde-
sirable! When the pleasure of speculation shall be without the
toil; and that maxim he eternally antiquated, that increased
knowledge increases sorrow! As to the other notion of it; how
can it be less grateful to behold the wisdom that made, and gov-
erned the world; that compassed so great designs: and this, no
longer in its effects, but in itself? Those works were honorable
and glorious, sought of all them that have pleasure in them.
What will be the glory of their cause? It would gratify some
men's curiosity to behold the unusual motion of some rare auto-
maton; but an ingenious person would, with much more plea-
sure, pry into the secret springs of that motion; and observe its
inward frame and parts, and their dependance, and order to each
other. It is comely to behold the exterior economy of a well-
governed people; when great affairs are, by orderly conduct,
brought to happy issues; but to have been at the helm; to have
seen the pertinent, proper application of such and such maxims to
the incident cases; to have known all the reasons of state; heard
debates; observed, with what great sagacity, inconveniencies
have been foreseen, and with what diligence prevented: would
much more gratify an inquiring genius. When the records of
eternity shall be exposed to view; all the counsels and results
of that profound wisdom looked into; how will it transport!
when it shall be discerned, Lo! thus were the designs laid here ;
were the apt junctures, and admirable dependencies of things,
which when acted upon the stage of the world, seemed so per-
plexed and cross, so full of mysterious intricacy? If St. Paul
were so ravished at those more obscure appearances of divine
wisdom, which we find him admiring, (Rom. 11. 33.) O the
depths, &c. what satisfaction will it yield, to have a perfect mo-
del, of the deep thoughts and counsels of God, presented to open
view! How is the happiness of Solomon's servants magnified,
that had the privilege continually to stand before him, and hear
his wisdom! But this happiness will be proportionably greater,
as Solomon's God is greater than he.
Secondly. The glory of his power will add comeliness to the
object of this vision. Power duly placed and allayed is lovely.
Beauty consists much in a symmetry or proportion of parts. So
must there be a concurrence of divine perfections, to compose
and make up the beautiful complexion of his face; to give us a
right aspect, the true idea of God, and here his power hath a
necessary ingrediency. How incoherent, and disagreeing with
itself, were the notion of an impotent God? His power xguros ris
dóns gives lively strokes to his glory. It is called glorious pow-
er or the power of glory: (Col. 1. 11.) yea, it is simply called
glory itself; (Rom. 6. 4.) the apostle tells us Christ was raised
from the dead by the glory of the Father, when it is plain he
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
55
means power. And the same apostle prays on the behalf of the
Ephesians, that God would grant them according to the riches of
his glory to be strengthened with might, &c. chap. 3. 16. How
frequently are power and glory ascribed to him in conjunction?
intimating that, as he is powerful, he is glorious. And certainly
even this glory, cannot but cast a grateful aspect upon the bles-
sed soul, and be infinitely pleasant to behold. What triumphs
doth it now raise in gracious spirits, to behold the exertions of it
in his works; to read its descriptions in his word; while as yet.
he holds back the face of his throne, (Job. 26. 9.) while the
countenance of enthroned majesty cannot be seen; when so lit-
tle a portion is heard of him, and the thunder of his power (ver.
14.) so little understood! The infinitely fainter rays of this pow-
er in a creature; power in that unspeakable diminution and
abatement; that derived, precarious power, when it is innocent-
ly used, is observed with pleasure. Here is power in the throne,
power in its chief and highest seat; essential, and self-originated
power; the root and fountain, the very element of power; pow-
er in its proper situation, in its native place to which it belongs.
God hath spoken once, twice have I heard this, that power be-
longeth unto God. Ps. 62. 11. Power to God it is in the Hebrew.
It languishes in a creature, as in an alien subject. If I speak of
strength; Lo he is strong in power (saith Job. ch. 26.) it as
though he had said "Created power is not worth the speaking
of; here is the power that deserves the name, that is so indeed."
How satisfying a pleasure will this afford, to contemplate this
radical power? this all-creating, all-ruling power, the principle
of all action, motion and life, throughout the whole creation?
This will be as natural a pleasure, as the child takes in the mo-
ther's bosom, and in embracing the womb that bare it. How
grateful to behold, whence the vast frame of nature sprang!
what stretched out the heavens, established the earth, sustained
all things! what turned the mighty wheels of providence,
throughout all the successions of times and seasons; chained up
devils, restrained the outrages of a tumultuous world, preserved
God's little flock! especially, what gave being to the new crea-
tion, (The exceeding greatness of power that wrought in them
that believed, &c. Eph. 1. 19. 20.) what made hearts love God,
embrace a Saviour! what it was that overcame their own, and
made them a willing people in that memorable day! Psal. 110. 3.
How delightful a contemplation to think, with so enlarged an un-
derstanding, of the possible effects of this power; and so far as
a creature can range into affinity, to view innumerable creations,
in the creative power of God! And yet how pleasant to think,
not only of the extents, but of the restraints of this power; and
how, when none could limit, it became ordinate, and did limit
itself; that, since it could do so much, it did no more; turned
from premature revenge, that had abortived the womb of love,
56
THE BLESSEDNESS
and cut off all the hopes of this blessed eternity that is now at-
tained! Posse et nolle, nobile, to possess power and to forbear
its exercise is noble. This also speaks the greatness of power:
let the power of my Lord be great, according as thou hast spo-
ken, the Lord is gracious, long-suffering, &c. Numb. 14. 17, 18.
This was his mightiest power, whereby he overcame himself:
Fortior est qui se, &c. he is stronger who governs himself, &c.
Thirdly. And what do we think of the ravishing aspects of
his love! when it shall, now, be open-faced, and have laid
aside its vail! when his amiable smiles shall be checkered with
no intermingled frowns; the light of that pleasing countenance
be obscured by no intervening cloud! when goodness, which is
love issuing into benefaction, or doing good: grace, which adds
freeness unto goodness; mercy, which is grace towards the mi-
serable; shall conspire in their distinct, and variegated appear-
ances to set off each other, and enhance the pleasure of the ad-
miring soul! when the wonted doubts shall all cease, and the
difficulty vanish, of reconciling (once necessary) fatherly seve-
rity with love! when the full sense, shall be unfolded to the life,
of that description of the divine nature, "God is love :" and the
soul be no longer put to read the love of God in his name (as
Moses was when the sight of his face could not yet be obtain-
ed;) shall not need to spell it by letters and syllables; but be-
hold it in his very nature itself, and see how ultimately essential
it is to the divine Being! how glorious will this appearance of
God be, (we now, hear something of the glory of his grace Eph.
1. 6.) and how satisfying the tuition of that glory! Now is the
proper season for the full exercise and discovery of love. This
day hath been long expected, and lo, now it is dawned upon the
awakening soul; it is now called forth; its senses unbound; all
its powers inspirited, on purpose, for love-visions and enjoy-
ments; it is now to take its fill of loves. The apostle's extatical
prayer is now answered to the highest degree possible with res-
pect to such a one. Eph. 3. 16. 17. 18. 19. He is now, accor-
ding to the riches of divine glory, strengthened with might, by the
Spirit, in the inner man-to comprehend with all saints, what is
the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; to know that
love that passeth knowledge &c. He shall now no longer stand
amazed, spending his guesses, what manner of love this should
be; and expecting fuller discoveries, further effects of it, that
did not yet appear: but sees the utmost, all that his soul can
bear, or wish to see. He hath now traced home the rivulets
to their fountain, the beams to the very sun of love. He hath
got the prospect, at last, in that heart, where the great thoughts
of love were lodged from everlasting; where all its counsels and
designs were formed. He sees what made God become a man;
what clothed a Deity with human flesh; what made eternity be-
come the birth of time (when come to its parturient fulness;
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
57
Gal. 4. 4.) what moved the heart of the Son of God to pitch his ta-
bernacle among men ; what engaged him to the enterprize of re-
deeming sinners; what moved him so earnestly to contest with a
perishing world, led him at last to the cross, made him content to
become a sacrifice to God, a spectacle to angels and men, in a bit-
ter reproachful death, inflicted by the sacrilegious hands of those
whom he was all this while designing to save. The amazed soul
now sees into the bottom of this design; understands why itself
was not made a prey to divine revenge: whence it was, that it
perished not in its enmity against God; that he was not provoked
by the obstinacy of its disobedience, and malice of its unbelief, be-
yond the possibility of an atonement; why he so long suffered its
injurious neglects of him, and unkind repulses of a merciful Sa-
viour; and persuaded, till at last he overcame, made the averse
heart yield, the careless disaffected soul cry out, "Where is my
God?" Now a Christ or I perish! All this is now resolved into
love and the adoring soul sees how well the effects agree to
their cause, and are owned by it. Nothing but heaven itself that
gives the sense, can give the notion of this pleasure.
Fourthly. Nor will the glory of holiness be less resplendent;
that great attribute which even in a remote descent from its ori-
ginal, is frequently mentioned with the adjunct of beauties. Psal.
110. 3. &c. What loveliness will those beauties add to this
blessed face! Not here to insist (which is besides my purpose)
upon the various notions of holiness: real holiness Scripture
states in purity, (2. Cor. 7. 1.) an alienation from sin: it is set in
opposition to all filthiness, to all moral impurity; and in that no-
tion it best agrees to God; and comprehends his righteousness
and veracity, and indeed, whatever we can conceive in him, un-
der the notion of a moral excellency. This may therefore be
styled a transcendental attribute, that as it were runs through the
rest, and casts a glory upon every one; it is an attribute of attri-
butes. Those are fit predications, holy power, holy truth, holy
love, &c. And so it is the very lustre, and glory of his other
perfections; he is glorious in holiness. Exod. 15. 11. Hence in
matters of greatest moment, he is sometimes, brought in swear-
ing by his holiness, Psal. 89. 35. Amos. 14. (which he is not
wont to do by any one single attribute,) as though it was an ad-
æquatior conceptus, a fuller expression of himself, than any of
the rest.
What is of so great an account with him, will not be of least
account with his holy ones, when they appear in his glorious
presence. Their own holiness is a conformity to his; the like-
ness of it. And as their beholding it, forms them into that like-
ness; so that likeness makes them capable of beholding it with
pleasure. Divine holiness doth now, more ravish than affright.
This hath been the language of sinful dust. Who can stand be-
fore this holy God? (I. Sam. 6.) when holiness hath appeared
VOL. I.
S
58
THE BLESSEDNESS
armed with terrors, guarded with flames, and the divine majesty
been represented as a consuming fire. Such apprehensions sin
and guilt naturally beget: the sinners of Sion were afraid. But
so far as the new man is put on, created after God, and they, who
were darkness, are made light in the Lord, he is not under any
notion more acceptable to them, than as he is the holy one.
They love his law, because holy; and love each other, because
holy; and hate themselves, because they are no more so. Ho-
liness hath still a pleasing aspect when they find it in an ordi-
nance, meet it in a sabbath: every glimpse of it is lovely. But
with what triumphs hath the holiness of God himself been ce-
lebrated even by saints on earth? Who is a God like unto thee,
glorious in holiness! There is none holy as the Lord, for there
is none besides thee. Sing unto the Lord, all ye saints of his,
and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness. Exod. 15.
11. I. Sam. 2. 2. Psal. 30. 4.-97. 12. What thoughts will they
1.
have of it,* when their eyes can behold that glory; when they
immediately look on the archetypal holiness, of which their own
is but the image; and can view that glorious pattern, they were
so long in framing to? How joyfully will they then fall in with
the rest of the heavenly host; and join in the same adoration
and praise, in the same acclamation, and triumphant Holy, holy,
holy, Lord God of Sabaoth! How unconceivable is the pleasure
of this sight; when the airò xahov, the first pulchritude, the ori-
ginal beauty offers itself to view! Holiness is intellectual beau-
ty: divine holiness is the most perfect and the measure of all
other and what is the pleasure and satisfaction, of which we
speak, but the perfection and rest of love? Now love, as love,
respects and connotes, a pulchritude in its object. Max. Tyr.
dissert. 11. And then the most perfect pulchritude, the ineffa-
ble, and immortal pulchritude, that cannot be declared by words,
or seen with eyes, (they are a heathen's expressions concerning
it,) how can it but perfectly, and eternally please and satisfy?
Ibid.
And we are told by the great Pagan theologue,† in what state
we can have the felicity of that spectacle. Not in our present
* Si ergo pulchritudo divina nondum visa, sed solum credita et sperata,
tantum ignem desiderii excitat: Quid faciet cum, remote velo, ut est in se,
conspicitur? Omnino id faciet ut torrente voluptatis illius inebriati, neque ve-
limus, neque possimus, vel ad punctum temporis, oculos ab ea divertere : it then
the divine beauty, while not as yet seen, but only believed and hoped for, ex-
cites such a flame of desire after it, what will be its effect, when the vail being
drawn aside, it shall be immediately and distinctly perceived? Certainly it
will affect us with such an intoxication of delight, that we shall neither be
willing nor able, even for a single moment, to divert our attention from it.
Bellarmine on the ascent of the mind to God.
Plato in Phædo passim. (Though he there speaks these things as the
memoirs of his supposed pre-existent soul.)
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
59
state; when we have, indeed, but obscure representations, of
such things as are, with souls of highest excellency: But when
we are associated to the sudaíuovi xog blessed quire: when we are
delivered from the body, (which we now carry about, isgés gómov,
as the oyster doth its shell. When we are no longer sensible of
the evils of time. When we wholly apply ourselves to that
blessed vision; are admitted to the beholding of the simple per-
manent sights; and behold them, being ourselves pure, in the
pure light then have we the view of the v avyý xatagā, natagoi
övres, xáλλos haµægóv, bright shining pulchritude, &c.
[2.] It is an entire or united glory. We have something of the
divine glory shining, now upon us: but the many interpositions
cause a various refraction of its light. We have but its dispers-
ed rays, its scattered, dishevelled beams: we shall then have it
perfect and full. It is the eternal glory we are hereafter to be-
hold. Eternity (as the notion of it is wont to be stated) is a
duration that excludes both succession, and end. And if it be an
unsuccessive duration, (though it is more difficult to apprehend
how the being or enjoyments of a creature can come under that
mensuration, or how there can be any such) the glory presented
to the view of a blessed soul, cannot be presented by parcels,
but at once. Æternitas est interminabilis vitæ tota simul et per-
fecta possessio: eternity is the boundless, simultaneous, perfect
possession of life. Boeth. In our temporary state, while we are
under the measure of time, we are not capable of the fulness of
blessedness, or misery; for time exists not all together, but by
parts. And indeed we can neither enjoy, nor suffer more, at
once, than can be compassed within one moment; for no more
exists together. But our relation to eternity (according to this
notion of it) will render the same invariable appearance of glory,
always presentaneous to us, in the entire fulness of it. We read
indeed (1 Thes. 3. 10.) of certain issguara Tissus, afterings of
faith (as it may be significantly enough rendered, let but the
novelty of the expression be pardoned), things lacking we read
it but there will be here no seghuara diğns, afterings of glory.
What is perfect admits no increase; it is already full: and, why
should not a full glory satisfy? There is here no expectation of
(greater) future, to abate the pleasure of present discoveries.
Why therefore shall not this satisfaction be conceived full and
perfect? It must be the fulness of joy.
[3.] It is permanent glory; a never fading, unwithering glory,
(apbagrov dµágavrov. 1 Pet. 1. 4.) glory that will never be sullied,
or obscured, never be in a declination. This blesed face never
grows old; never any wrinkle hath place in it. It is the eternal
glory, 2 Cor. 4. 17. 2 Tim. 2. 10. 1 Pet. 5. 10. (in the other part
of the notion of eternity), as it imports an endless duration,
neither subject to decay, in itself, nor to injury, or impairment
from without. As stable as the divine Being; Thy God, thy
60
THE BLESSEDNESS
glory; the Lord thy everlasting light; Isa. 60. 19. If that have
a true sense with respect to any of the church militant on earth,
it must needs have a more full sense, in reference to it triumph-
ing in heaven. As, therefore, full entire glory affords fulness of
joy; permanent, everlasting glory affords pleasures for ever-
more. Psal. 16. 11.
[4.] An appropriate glory, even to them it is so a glory
wherein they are really interested. It is the glory of their God,
and their happiness is designed to them from it. They are not
unconcerned in it, as the glory of God. It cannot but be grate-
ful to them to behold the shining glory of their God; whom
they feared and served before while they could have no such
sight of him. That glory of his was once under a cloud, con-
cealed from the world, wrapt up in obscurity: it now breaks the
cloud and justifies the fear and reverence of his faithful and
loyal servants, against atheistical rebels, that feared him not. It
is infinitely pleasing to see him now so glorious, whom they
thought to have a glory beyond all their conceptions before;
while others would not think so of him, but judged it safe to
slight, and set him at nought. Subjects share in their prince's
glory, children in their father's. But besides that collateral in-
terest, that interest by reflection, they have a more direct in-
terest in this glory. A true and real right: upon a manifold
title, the father's gift, son's purchase, Holy Ghost's obsignation,
and earnest; the promises, tender; their faith's acceptance; their
fore-runner's prepossession; yea, it is their inherritance; (Rom.
8. 17.) they are children, and therefore heirs, heirs of God, and
joint-heirs with Christ, to the same glory with him, (ch. 15. 7.)
They are, by him, received to the glory of God, called to his
kingdom and glory. 1. Thes. 2. 12. Will it not contribute ex-
ceedingly to their satisfaction, when they shall look upon this
glory, not as unconcerned spectators, but as interested persons?
This is my happiness, to behold and enjoy this blessed God;
What a rapturous expression is that, God our own God shall
bless us; and that, Thy God thy glory! (Psal. 67. 6.) Upon
interest in God, follows their interest in his glory and blessed-
ness which is so much the dearer, and more valuable, as it is
theirs their glory from their God. They shall be blessed by
God, their own God; drink waters out of their own well. How
endearing a thing is propriety? Another man's son is ingenious,
comely, personable, this may be a matter of envy; but mine own
is so, this is a joy. I read in the life of a devout nobleman of
France, (Monsieur de Renti,) that receiving a letter from a
friend, in which were inserted these words, Deus meus, et om-
nia: my God, and my all; he thus returns back to him, “I
know not what your intent was, to put into your letter these
words, Deus meus, et omnia: My God, and my all; only you
invite me thereby to return the same to you, and to all creatures;
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
61
My God, and my all; my God, and my all; my God, and my
all; If perhaps you take this for your motto, and use it to ex-
press how full your heart is of it; think you it possible, I should
be silent upon such an invitation, and not express my sense
thereof? Likewise, be it known unto you therefore, that he is
my God, and my all; and if you doubt of it, I shall speak it a
hundred times over. I shall add no more; for any thing else is
superfluous, to him that is truly penetrated with my God, and my
all: I leave you therefore in this happy state of jubilation; and
conjure you, to beg for me, of God, the solid sense of these
words," and do we think, My God, and my all; or my God and
my Glory, will have lost its emphasis in heaven? or that it will
be less significant among awaked souls? These things concur
then, concerning the object: it is most excellent, even divine,
entire, permanent, and theirs: how can it but satisfy!
CHAPTER VI.
What the vision of God's face contributes to the soul's satisfaction estima-
ted (2.) From the consideration of the act of vision itself. Wherein this
pleasure surpasses that of sense. A comparison pursued more at large. [1]
Between this intuition and discourse. [2] Between it and faith. This intui-
tion more absolutely considered: Its characters, and what they contribute to
the satisfaction of the blessed soul: That it is (namely) efficacious, compre-
hensive, fixed, appropriative.
It
(2) The act of vision or intuition itself. How great the plea-
sure will be that accrues to the blessed from this sight of God's
face, is very much also to be estimated from the nature of the
act, as well as the excellency of the object. Inasmuch as every
vital act is pleasant, the most perfect act of the noblest faculty
of the soul, must needs be attended with highest pleasure.
is a pleasure that most nearly intimates divine pleasure. And
every thing is more perfect, as it more nearly approaches divine
perfections.* Intellectual pleasure is as much nobler than that
of sense, as an immortal spirit is more noble than a clod of earth.
The pleasure of sense is drossy, feculent, the pleasure of the
mind refined and pure; that, is faint and languid, this, lively
and vigorous; that, scant and limited, this, ample and enlarged;
that, temporary and fading, this durable and permanent; that,
*Res sunt perfectiores vel imperfectiores prout à summa perfectione magis
vel minimè abscedunt. All things are more or less perfect in proportion as
they more or less nearly approach to the supreme perfection.
62
THE BLESSEDNESS
flashy, superficial, this, solid and intense; that, raving and dis-
tracted, this, calm and composed.* Whence even that great re-
puted sensualist, Epicurus himself, professedly disclaims or is
represented as disclaiming, the conceit of placing happiness in
sensual delights.
And as the pleasure of intellection excels all the pleasure of
sense; so doth the pleasure of intuition, excel all other intellect-
ual pleasure. Let us to this purpose, but consider, generally,
this way of knowing things, and compare it with those two other
ways, by-discourse and by faith.
[1.] By discourse. I mean (that I be not mistaken by the
vulgar reader) the discourse of the mind or ratiocination; that
way of attaining the knowledge of things, by comparing one
thing with another, considering their mutual relations, connex-
ions, dependencies; and so arguing out, what was more doubt-
ful and obscure, from what was more known and evident. To
the altogether unlearned it will hardly be conceivable; and to
the learned it need not be told how high a gratification this em-
ployment of his reason naturally yields to the mind of a man ;
when the harmonious contexture of truths with truths; the apt
coincidence, the secret links and junctures of coherrent notions,
are clearly discerned; when effects are traced up to their cau-
ses;* properties lodged in their native subjects; things sifted
to their principles. What a pleasure is it, when a man shall ap-
prehend himself regularly led on (though but by a slender thread
of discourse) through the labyrinths of nature; when still new
discoveries are successfully made, every further inquiry ending
in a further prospect, and every new scene of things entertain-
ing the mind with a fresh delight! How many have suffered a
voluntary banishment from the world, as if they were wholly
*Pet. Molin. de cognitione Dei. See Culverwel of the light of nature,
speaking (as I remember) to this purpose, c. 17. Quocirca et cum universe
voluptatem beatæ vitæ esse finem dicimus; longe profecto absumus, ut eas
voluptates, quæ sunt virorum luxu diffluentium, aut aliorum etiam, quatenus
spectantur in ipsa motione, actioneve fruendi: qua nimirum sensus jucunde
dulciterque afficitur, intelligamus; veluti quidam rem ignorantes, aut a nobis
dissentientes, aut alioquin adversum nos male affecti, interpretantur; sed il-
lud duntaxat (ut res iterum dicatur) intelligimus: non dolere corpore; animo
non perturbari; wherefore while we say in general, that pleasure is the end
of a well spent life, we are very far from ineaning that pleasure which is
enjoyed only by persons of luxurious and dissolute habits, or by others only
so long as they are in the very act or instant of gratification-a pleasure which
consists in the voluptuous emotion of the senses; (though this is the idea
which some, whether from ignorance, party spirit or ill-will, give our system)
but we mean as has been said before, the freedom of the body from pain and
the mind from perturbation. Gassend: Syntag. Philos Epicur: See his
epistle to Manoceus in D. Laert.
*Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere caûsas: happy the man who can trace
the effects of things to their causes.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
63
strangers, and unrelated to it rejected the blandishments of
sense; macerated themselves with unwearied studies, for this
pleasure; making the ease and health of their bodies, to give
place to the content and satisfaction of their minds! But how
much intuition hath the advantage, above this way of knowledge,
may be seen in these two obvious respects.
Here is no need
First. It is a more facile way of knowing.
of a busy search, a tiresome indagation, (the difficulty whereof
makes the more slothful, rather trust than try) a chaining toge-
ther of consequences. The soul hath its clothing (its vestment
of light) upon as cheap terms as the lilies theirs; doth neither
toil nor spin for it: and yet Solomon, in all the glory of his
famed wisdom, was not arrayed like it. This knowledge saves
the expense of study; is instantaneous, not successive. The
soul now sees more, at one view, in a moment, than before in a
life's time as a man hath a speedier, and more grateful prospect
of a pleasant country, by placing himself in some commodious
station, that commands the whole region, than by travelling
through it. It is no pains to look upon what offers itself to my
eye. Where there is a continued series of consequences, that
lie naturally connected, the soul pleasingly observes this contin-
uity; but views the whole frame, the whole length of the line,
at once (so far as its limited capacity can extend) and needs not
discuss every particle, severally, in this series of truths, and
proceed gradatim, from the knowledge of one truth to another;
in which case only one, at once, would be present to its view.
It sees things that are connected, not because they are so at-
que ut homini sedenti ad ripum fluminis, sola aqua presens est
quæ ei hoc temporis punctulo observatur; eidem vero homini,
totum flumen presens esset, si supra summam acris regionem erec-
tus, uno aspectu fontem et ostium fluminis posset aspicere: Ita
oculo Dei, &c, as a man, conveniently placed in some eminent
station, may possibly see, at one view, all the successive parts of
a gliding stream: but he that sits by the water's side, not chang-
ing his place, sees the same parts, only because they succeed;
and these that pass, make way for them that follow, to come
under his eye: so doth a learned man describe the unsuccessive
knowledge of God; of which the glorified souls way of know-
ing, is an imitation; as the very words seeing and beholding
(which it is so frequently set forth by in scripture) do naturally
import. Yet that, as to them, all ratiocination shall be excluded
that state, I see no reason to admit; though with God it can have
no place. And as he is reckoned to live a pleasanter life, that
Nonnulli tædio investigandæ veritatis, cuilibet opinioni potius ignavi suc-
cumbunt; quam in exploranda veritate, pertinaci diligentia, perseverare vo-
lunt: there are some men who from the difficulty of investigating truth, in-
dolently fall in with any sentiment proposed to them, rather than persevere in
the research with a determined diligence. Min: Felix Oct. 9.
}
64
THE BLESSEDNESS
spends upon a plentiful estate; than he that gets his bread by
the sweat of his brows: so this more easy way of knowing, must
needs be reckoned more pleasing. This knowledge is as Ja-
cob's venison, not hunted for but brought to hand. The race is
not here to the swift. The unlearned ideot knows as much as
the profoundest Rabbi (at least with as much satisfaction;) and
all arms are of an equal size; or are content with their own
measure.
Secondly. It is more certain. For what do we use to reckon
so certain as what we see with our eyes? Better (even in this
respect) is the sight of the eyes, than the wandering of the de-
sire. While here, the mind is carried, with most earnest desire,
to pursue knowledge, it very often mistakes its way, and misera-
bly wanders. In our most wary ratiocinations, we many times.
shoot at rovers but when we know by this vision, our mark is
immediately presented to our eye. We are in danger to be im-
posed upon by delusive appearances of things. We look through
no fallacious mediums, are held in no suspense; puzzled with
no doubts, whether such consequences will hold, such conclu-
sions be rightly inferred; and so are not retarded from giving a
present unwavering assent. Here are no perplexing intricacies,
no dubious hallucinations, or uncertain guesses. We see things,
as they are, by a simple and undeceiving light, with both sub-
jective, and objective certainty, being secure both from doubt,
and error.
[2.] Faith. How magnificent things doth scripture speak of
this grace! which the experience also of such as have been wont
to live by it (that is to make it the governing principle of their
lives) doth abundantly confirm. How clear are its apprehen-
sions! it is the syXos (Heb. 11. 1.) evidence of things not seen:
how sweet its enjoyments! whom not seeing ye love; and though
now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice, with joy unspeak-
able, and full of glory. 1. Pet. 1. 8. Even the heathen theolo-
gy hath magnified it above knowledge, "What is it (saith one)
that unites us with the self-goodness, and so joins us thereto, that
it quiets or gives rest to all our actions and motions? I will ex-
press it in one word; it is faith itself, which unspeakably and
after a hidden manner, doth unite and conjoin happy souls with
the self-good. For (saith he) it concerns us not, either in a way
of science, 3 γνωςικῶς, ἐδὲ ἀτελώς, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπίδοντας ἑαυτὸς τῷ θειῷ φωτί, &c.
or with any imperfection, to inquire after the good; but to be-
hold ourselves in the divine light, and so shutting our eyes, to be
placed in the unknown and secret unity of beings. Proclus in
Plat. Theol. And a later writer (Picus Mirand.) gives us this,
as a conclusion from that former author, that as faith, which is
credulity, is below science; so that faith, which is truly so called,
is, super-substantially, above science and intelligence, imme-
diately uniting us to God. But it is evident, intuitive knowledge
far exceeds even faith also.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
65
First, It is more distinct and clear. Faith is taking a thing
upon report; (Isa. 53. 1.) Who hath believed our report? And
they are more general, languid apprehensions, we have of things
this way. Faith enters at the ear; it comes by hearing. Rom.
10. 17. And if we compare the perceptions of those two exter-
nal senses, that of hearing, and sight: the latter is unspeakably
more clear and satisfying. He that hath knowledge of a foreign
country, only by report of another, hath very indistinct appre-
hensions of it, in comparison of him who hath travelled it him-
self. While the queen of Sheba only heard of Solomon's glory,
she could not satisfy herself, without an auroia the sight of her
own eye; and when she saw it, she saith, the one half was not
told her of what she now beheld. The ear more slowly and
gradually receives, and the tongue more defectively expresses to
another, an account of things: than one's ocular inspection would
take it in. But, as to the excellency of this intuitive knowledge
above faith; the comparison lies not, between knowing by the
ministry of a more noble sense, and a less noble; but knowing
by dependance on a less noble, and without dependance upon
any at all. When God hath been pleased to afford discoveries,
in that way of vision, to men in the body, (his prophets, &c.) he
hath usually bound up their senses, by sleep, or trances; sense
hath had no part or lot in this matter; unto believing it must ne-
cessarily concur.
Secondly. More effective. What we see, even with our ex-
ternal eye, much more powerfully moves our heart, than what
we only give credit to, upon hearsay. The queen of Sheba much
admired, no doubt, Solomon's famed splendor, and magnificence,
while she only heard of it; but when she saw it, it puts her in-
to an ecstacy; it ravished away her soul; she had no more spirit,
&c. What would the sight of the divine glory do, if God did
not strengthen with all might: were there not as well glorious
power to support, as powerful glory to transform! Job had heard
of God, by the hearing of the ear, but when once his eye saw
him, (whether that were by the appearance of any sensible glo-
ry: which is probable enough, for it is said, the Lord answered
him out of the whirlwind: or whether by a more immediate re-
velation, it is less-material) what work did it make in his soul!
The devils believe, and tremble; so impressive are the pre-ap-
prehensions of judgment to come, and the consequents thereof,
with them; yet their present torment, thence, is no torment, in
comparison ("art thou come to torment us before the time ?") of
what they expect. Let wicked men consider this, (they will
have their intuition in hell too ;) were your belief, and terror
thereupon, with reference to the eternal judgment, and the im-
pendent wrath of God, equal to what the devils themselves have,
upon the same account; actual sensation will make you more ex-
ceed yourselves in point of misery, than the devils do now exceed
VOL. I.
9
66
THE BLESSEDNESS
you. There is, no doubt, a proportionable difference between
the impressions of present faith, and future vision with holy
souls. Now, not seeing, yet believing, they rejoice, with joy
unspeakable. Their present joy cannot be spoken; their future
then cannot be thought! Experience daily tells us; how greatly,
sensible, present objects have the advantage upon us, beyond
those that are spiritual and distant, though infinitely more excel-
lent and important. When the tables are turned, the now sensi-
ble things disappear; a new scene of things invisible and eter-
nal, is immediately presented to our view; when the excel-
lency of the objects, the disposedness of the subjects, the na-
ture of the act, shall all multiply the advantages, on this part,
how affective will this vision be, beyond what we have ever
found the faint apprehensions of our so much disadvantaged faith
to amount to; a kind message from an indulgent father, to his
far-distant son, informing of his welfare, and yet continuing love,
will much affect; but the sight of his father's face, will even
transport, and overcome him with joy.
But further consider this intuition a little more particularly and
absolutely in itself. So, you may take this somewhat distincter
account of it, in some few particulars, corresponding to those,
by which the object (the glory to be beheld,) was lately charac-
terized.--It will be a vigorous, efficacious, intuition; as that
which it beholds is the most excellent, even the divine, glory.
Such an object cannot be beheld, but with an eye full of lively
vigor; a sparkling, a radiant eye: a weak eye would be struck
blind, would fail, and be closed up at the first glance. We must
suppose, then, this vision to be accompanied with the highest vi-
tality, the strongest energy, a mighty plenitude of spirit and
power no less than the divine: nothing but the divine power can
sufficiently fortify the soul to behold divine glory. When the
apostle speaks only of his desire of glory, he that hath wrought
us to this selfsame thing (saith he) is God, he that hath moulded
us, suitably framed us (as the word signifieth) for this thing, is
God it is the work of a Deity to make a soul desire glory:
certainly then, it is his work to give the power of beholding it.
And by how much the more of power, so much the more of
pleasure in this vision. Weak sight would afford but languid
joy: but when the whole soul, animated with divine power and
life, shall seat itself in the eye; when it shall be as it were, all
eye, (as one said of God, whom now it perfectly imitates) and
be wholly intent upon vision; apply itself thereto with all its
might, as its only business; (S. Hieronym;) what satisfying
joys doth it now taste! renewed by every repeated view! how
doth it now, as it were, prey upon glory; as the eye of the ea-
gle upon the beams of the sun! We meet with the expression
of aures bibula; thirsty ears; here will be oculi bibuli, thirsty
eyes: a soul ready to drink in glory at the eye. If vision be by
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
67
intromission, what attractive eyes are here, drawing in glory,
feeding upon glory? If by extramission, what piercing darting
eyes, sending forth the soul at every look to embrace the glori-
ous object.
There is great power that now attends realizing thoughts of
God whether it appear in the consequent working of the soul
directly towards God; or by way of reflection upon itself. If
directly towards God; how mightily is he admired! "Who is a
God like unto thee?" If by reflection upon our own sin, and
vileness; how deeply doth it humble !" Now mine eye seeth
thee, therefore I abhor myself-Woe is me, I am undone,-Mine
eyes have seen the Lord of glory." If by way of reflection,
upon our interest in him, or relation to him; how mightily doth
it support and comfort! "I will look to the Lord-my God will
hear me." Mic. 7. 7. How full of rich sense is that scripture,
They looked to him and were lightened! Psal. 34. 5. One look
clothed them with light, cast a glory upon their souls, filled them
with life and joy; it was but a thought, the cast of an eye, and
they were as full as hearts could hold. Oh the power then of
these heavenly visions! when we dwell in the views of that
transforming glory!-This will be a comprehensive intuition; as
its object is entire glory. I mean comparatively, not absolutely
comprehensive. More of the divine glory will be comprehend-
ed, unspeakably, than before. It is called, we know by the
schoolmen, the knowledge of comprehensors, in contradiction to
that of viators. We shall better be able to discern the divine
excellencies together; have much more adequate conceptions ;
a fuller, and more complete notion of God: we shall see him as
he is. It is too much observable, how in our present state, we
are prejudiced by our partial conceptions of him; and what an
inequality they cause in the temper of our spirits. For wicked
men, the very notion they have of God, proves fatal to their
souls, or is of a most destructive tendency; because they com-
prehend not together what God hath revealed of himself. Most
usually, they confine those few thoughts of God they have, only
to his mercy; and that exclusively, as to his holiness and jus-
tice; hence their vain and mad presumption. The notion of an
unholy (or a not-holy, and not-just) God, what wickedness would
it not induce? "Thou thoughtest I was altogether such a one
as thyself:" a God after their own hearts; then the reins
are let loose. More rarely, when the conscience of guilt hath
arrested the self-condemned wretch, God is thought of, under
no other notion, than of an irreconcilable enemy and avenger ;
as one thirsting after the blood of souls, and that will admit of
no atonement. So without all pretence, and so flatly contrary
to all his discoveries of himself, do men dare to affix to him black
and horrid characters, forged only out of the radicated and in-
veterate hatred of their own hearts against him, (ihat never take
68
THE BLESSEDNESS
up good thoughts of any one:) only because they have no mind
to acquaint themselves with him; and that they may have some
colour for their affected distance: and so, perhaps, never return ;
but perish under a horrid wilful despair. And even the people
of God themselves are too apt sometimes, so wholly to fix their
eye upon love and grace, that they grow into an unbecoming, un-
creaturely familiarity; while the thoughts of infinite majesty,
adorable greatness and glory are asleep. Sometimes possibly, they
apprehend vindictive justice, the indignation and jealousy of
God against sin, (precluding meanwhile, the consideration of his
indulgent compassions towards truly humble and penitent souls)
to that degree of affrightment and dread, that they grow into an
unchildlike strangeness towards him, and take little pleasure in
drawing nigh to him. But when, now our eye shall take in the
discovery of divine glory equally; how sweet and satisfying a
pleasure will arise from that grateful mixture of reverent love,
humble joy, modest confidence, meek courage, a prostrate mag-
nanimity, a triumphant veneration; a soul shrinking before the
divine glory into nothing, yet not contenting itself with any less
enjoyment, than of him, who is all in all!
There is nothing here in this complexion, or temper of soul,
but hath its warrant, in the various aspect of the face of God
comprehensively beheld; nothing but what is (even by its suit-
ableness) highly grateful, and pleasing. It will be fixed, steady
intuition, as its object is permanent glory. The vision of God
can neither infer, nor admit weariness. The eye cannot divert ;
its act is eternally delectable, and affords an unvariable, unde-
caying pleasure. Sensual delights soon end in loathing; quick-
ly bring a glutting surfeit; and degenerate into torments, when
they are continued and unintermittent. A philosopher in an
epistle which he writes to a friend, from the court of Dionysius,
where he was forcibly detained, thus bemoans himself, Kaxoda-
μονέμεν, ὦ ᾿Αντισθενές, οι μετρίως, &c. " We are unhappy, O Antisthe-
nes, beyond measure; and how can we but be unhappy, that are
burdened by the tyrant every day with sumptuous feasts, plenti-
ful compotations, precious ointments, gorgeous apparel? and I
knew as soon as I came into this island and city, how unhappy
my life would be." Socratico rum. Epis. 9. This is the nature
and common condition of even the most pleasing sensible ob-
jects; they first tempt, then please a little, then disappoint, and
lastly vex. The eye that beholds them, blasts them quickly, rifles
and deflowers their glory; and views them with no more delight at
first, than disdain afterwards. Creature-enjoyments have a bot-
tom, are soon drained and drawn dry; hence there must be fre-
*Proba istas, quæ voluptates vocantur, ubi modum transcenderint, pænas
esse: prove by experience that what are called pleasures when they exceed
proper bounds become pains. Sen. Ep. 83.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
69
quent diversions; other pleasures must be sought out; and are
chosen, not because they are better, but because they are new.
sue.
This demonstrates the emptiness, and vanity of the creature.
Affection of variety only proceeds from sense of want; and is a
confession, upon trial, that there is not in such an enjoyment
what was expected. Proportionably, in the state of glory, a con-
stant indeficient fulness, renders the blessed soul undesirous of
any change. There is no need of varieties, of diversions: what
did once please, can never cease to do so. This glory cannot
fade or lose any thing of its attractive power. The faculty can-
not languish, or lose the disposition, by which it is contempered
and made proportionable thereto. Hence no weariness can en-
What! a soul in which the love of God is perfected grow
weary of beholding him! The sun will sooner grow weary
of
shining; the touched needle of turning itself to its wonted point;
every thing will sooner grow weary of its centre; and the most
fundamental laws of nature be sooner antiquated and made void
for ever.
The eye of the fool, Solomon tells us, is in the ends
of the earth; (Prov. 17. 24.) His only, is a rolling wandering
eye, that knows not where to fix. Wisdom guides, and fixes the
eye of the holy soul; determines it unto God only: I will bless
the Lord, who hath given me counsel, my reins also instruct
me,—I have set the Lord always before me. Psal. 16. 7. 8.
Surely heaven will not render it less capable of dijudication;
of passing a right judgment of the excellency and worth of things.
And here, a rational judgment will find no want; and irra-
tional will find no place. Therefore, as permanent glory will
certainly infer a perpetual vision; perpetuated vision will as
certainly perpetuate the soul's satisfaction, and blessedness.-It
will be a possessive intuition as it is an appropriate glory which
it pitches upon. It will be the language of every look, "This
glory is mine." The soul looks not upon it shyly, as if it had
nothing to do with it; or with slight and careless glances: but
the very posture of its eye, speaks its interest, and proclaims
the pretentions it hath to this glory. With how different an as-
pect, doth a stranger passing by, and the owner, look upon the
same house, the same lands; A man's eye lays his claim for him,
and avows his right. A grateful object that one can say is his
own, he arrests it with his eye; so do saints with appropriative
looks behold their God, and the divine glory. Even with such
an eye as he was wont to behold them; To this man will I look,
&c. (Isa. 66. 1. 2.) that is, as the place of my rest, mentioned
before; he designs him with his eye. Which is the import of
that expression, The Lord knows who are his; (2. Tim. 2. 19.)
his eye marks them out; owns them as his own; as concerning
others, whom he disowns, the phrase is, I know you not. And
how vastly different is such an intuition, from that, when I look
upon a thing, with a hungry, lingering eye, which I must never
70
THE BLESSEDNESS
enjoy or never expect to be the better for? This vision is frui-
tive, unites the soul with the blessed object which kind of sight
is meant, when actual blessedness, is so often expressed by see-
ing God.
We see then what vision, the sight of God's face
contributes to the satisfaction of blessed souls.
CHAPTER VII.
Having considered in the preceding chapters, what vision contributes to sat-
isfaction in reference to the object and the act of vision, we come now to in-
quire Secondly, Wherein assimilation (the likeness or glory of God impress-
ed) contributes unto satisfaction: where is particularly propounded to be
shewn. 1, What pleasure it involves. 2. What it disposes to. (1) What it
involves in the esse, being of it. (2) What in the cognosci, knowledge of it.
The pleasure of being like God discovered, shewing concerning the image
of God [1] Generally, that it is the sonl's health and soundness restored;
that it is a vital, an intimate, a connatural, a perfect image.
Our next business, is to discover,
Secondly. What assimilation, or the impressed likeness of
God, may further add to this satisfied state; or, what satisfying
pleasure the blessed souls find in this, that it is like God. And
here we are distinctly to inquire into the pleasure which such
an assimilation to God involves in itself, and that which it tends
to or disposes.
1. The pleasure it involves in itself; or, which is taken in it
abstractly considered; which we may more particularly unfold
by shewing-the pleasure involved, in being like God: and-in
knowing or reflecting upon the same: the esse and the cognosci
of this assimilation.
(1.) The pleasure in being like God; which may be discov-
ered both by a general consideration hereof, and by instancing in
some particulars, wherein blessed souls shall be like him.
[1] It is obvious to suppose an inexpressible pleasure, in the
very feeling, the inward sensation, the holy soul will have of
that happy frame in general, whereinto it is now brought; that
joyful harmony, that entire rectitude it finds within itself. You
may as soon separate light from a sun-beam, as pleasure from
such a state. This likeness or conformity to God is an suxgaría
a perfect temperament; an athletic healthiness; a strong sound
constitution of soul. Do but imagine, what it is to a man's body,
after a wasting sickness, to find himself well. Frame a notion
of the pleasure of health and soundness, when, both, all the
parts and members of the body are in their proper places and
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
71
proportions; and a lively, active vigor, a sprightly strength pos-
sesses every part, and actuates the whole; how pleasant is this
temper! If we were all body, there could be no greater felici-
ty than this. But by how much the more noble any creature is,
so is it capable of more exquisite pains, or pleasures.
* Sin is
the sickness and disease of the soul; enfeebles all its powers,
exhausts its vigor, wastes his strength. You know the restless
tossings, the weary rollings to and fro, of a diseased languishing
body; such is the case of a sinful soul. Let it but seriously be-
think itself, and then speak its own sense, (but here is the ma-
lignity of the disease, it cannot be serious, it always raves ;)
What will it be? "O I can take no rest!" The way of wicked-
ness is called a way of pain: Psal. 139. 24. Sinners would find
it so, if the violence of the disease had not bereft them of sense.
Nothing savours with me; I can take comfort in nothing. The
wicked are as a troubled sea, (as their name imports) that can-
not rest, whose waters, &c. Isa. 56. 20. The image of God, re-
newed in holiness and righteousness, is health restored, after
such a consuming sickness; which, when we awake, when all
the drowsiness that attends our disease is shaken off, we find to
be perfect. The fear of the Lord (an ordinary paraphrase of
holiness or piety) is said to be health to the navel, and marrow
to the bones. Our Lord Jesus invites wearied sinners to come
to him, to take his yoke on them, to learn of him, (Matt. 11. 28.)
that is to imitate him, to be like him, and promises they shall
find rest to their souls. How often do we find grace and peace,
in conjunction, in the apostles' salutations and benedictions? We
are told that the ways of divine wisdom (that is which it pre-
scribeth) are all pleasantness and peace; (Prov. 3. 13.) that in
keeping the commandments of God, there is great reward, (Psal.
19. 11.) that they are not grievous, (1 John, 5. 3.) that is (for
there seems to be a meiosis in the expression) are joyous, plea-
sant. And what are his commandments, but those expresses of
himself, wherein we are to be like him, and conform to his will?
The kingdom of God (that holy order which he settles in the
spirits of men; his law transcribed and impressed upon the soul;
which is nothing else but its conformation and likeness to him-
C
>
,
* Τιμιωτερον ψυχή σώματος, το δὲ τιμιωτερον αγαθόν μειζον· το
δὲ τῷ μείζονι, αγαθῷ ἐναντίον, μεῖζον κακόν· αγαθον δὲ μεῖζον υγεία
ψυχής υγείας σωματος· μείζον ἐν κακὸν, νόσος ψυχῆς, να σε σωματος
voσos yvyn's poxoneiu, &c. The mind is more noble than the body and as it
is more noble it contains the greater good, while whatever is contrary to it must
be the greater evil. Now the health of the soul is a greater good than that
of the body; consequently the sickness of the soul is a greater evil than that
of the body. The sickness of the soul is sin, &c. Max. Tyr. dissert. 41.
Hinc illud et tædium et displicentia sui, et nusquam residentis animi volu-
tatio, &e. hence that weariness that internal disgust and agitation of the per-
petually unsettled mind, &c. Sen. de Tranquanimi.
72
THE BLESSEDNESS
self:) is righteousness, and then peace. Rom. 14. 17. The
ogóvnμa IIvεúμasos, (Rom. 8. 6.) that notion and judgment, and
savour of things; that excellent temper of mind and heart; (for
that is the extent of the expression) whereof the holy Spirit of
God is both the author and pattern, is life and peace; involves
them in itself. When one thing is thus, in casu recto, predica-
ted of another, it speaks their most intimate connexion, as Rom.
14. 17. above: so 1 John. 5. 3. This is love that, &c. So here,
such a mind is life and peace, though the copula be not in the
original, it is fitly supplied in the translation ;) You cannot sepa-
rate life and peace from such a mind: it hath no principle of
death or trouble in it. Let such as know any thing of this bless-
ed temper and complexion of soul, compare this scripture and
their own experience together; when, at any time, they find
their souls under the blessed empire and dominion of a spiritual
mind; when spirituality wholly rules and denominates them :
are not their souls the very region of life and peace? both these
in conjunction, life and peace? not raging life, not stupid peace;
but a placid, peaceful life, a vital vigorous rest and peace it is
not the life of a fury, nor peace of a stone: life that hath peace
in it, and peace that hath life in it. Now can the soul say, "I
feel myself well; all is now well with me." Nothing afflicts
the spiritual mind, so far, and while it is such it is wrapt up,
and clothed in its own innocency and purity; and hereby become
invulnerable, not liable to hurtful impressions.* Holiness (un-
der the name of light, for that is, by the context, the evident
meaning of the word there) is by the apostle spoken of as the
christian's armour. (Rom. 13. 12.) Put on, saith he, the armour
of light, in opposition to the works of darkness, which he had
mentioned immediately before. Strange armour! that a man
may see through. A good man's armour is, that he needs none :
his armour is an open breast; that he can expose himself; is
fearless of any harm. Who is he that shall harm you, if ye be
followers of that which is good? It should be read imitators;
so the word signifiest; and so, whereas following is either of a
pattern, or an end; the former must be meant here, by the nat-
ural importance of that word. And hence, by
And hence, by "that which is
good" (Ts a'ya) is not to be understood created goodness; for
it is not enough- to imitate that goodness; for so we must be
good; but the words are capable of being read, him that is good,
*Invulnerabile est non quod non feritur, sed quod non læditur. Sen de
constantia sapientis, sive quod in sapientem non cadit injuria; to be invulne-
rable is not to be free from all attacks, but to be uninjured by them. Sene-
ca on the constancy of the wise man or his superiority to injuries.
Integer vitæ scelerisque purus, &c. He that is of an upright life and
free from vice. Hor. Muntai.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
73
or (which is all one) the good. *And so it is the increate good,
the blessed God himself, formally considered under the notion of
good. Nothing can harm you if you be like God, that is the
plain sense of this scripture. Likeness to God, is armour of
proof, that is an imitation of him, namely in his moral goodness;
which holiness as a general name of it comprehends. A person
truly like God, is secure from any external violence; so far as
that it shall never be able to invade his spirit. He is in spirit
far raised above the tempestuous, stormy region, and converses
where winds and clouds have no place.
Nor can, so far as this temper of soul prevails, any evil grow
upon such a mind within itself. It is life and peace; it is light
and purity; for it is the image, the similitude of God. God is
light, and with him is no darkness at all. 1 John. 1. 5. Holy
souls were darkness, but they are light in the Lord. Eph. 5. 8.
He the Father of light, they the children of light. Jam. 1. 19.
They were darkness: not in the dark; but, in the abstract "dark-
ness :" as if that were their whole nature; and they nothing
else but an impure mass of conglobated darkness. So, ye are
light as if they were that, and nothing else; nothing but a
sphere of light. Why suppose we such a thing, as an entire
sphere of nothing else but pure light? What can work any dis-
turbance here or raise a storm within it? A calm, serene thing;
perfectly homogeneous, void of contrariety, or any self-repug-
nant quality how can it disquiet itself? We cannot yet say,
that thus it is with holy souls in their present state, according to
the highest literal import of these words, Ye are light but thus
it will be when they awake; when they are satisfied with this
likeness. They shall then be like God fully, and throughout. O
the joy and pleasure of a soul made after such a similitude!
Now glory is become as it were their being; they are glorified.
Glory is revealed into them, transfused throughout them. Eve-
ry thing that is conceivable under the notion of an excellency
competent to created nature, is now to be found with them; and
they have it in-wrought in their very beings. So that in a true
sense it may be said, that they are light; they not only have.
such excellencies, but they are them as the moralist saith of
the wise, or virtuous man, Omnia non tam habere quam esse,
that he not so properly hath all things, as is all things. Sen. It
is said of man,-in respect of his naturals, he is the image and glo-
ry of God. 1 Cor. 11. 7. As for his supernatural excellencies,
* As Plato and his followers used the expression to"«¡aðo`r, fully accord-
ing to the sense of Mat. 19. 17.
+
>
M
† Σφαίρα ψυχής αυτοειδής, "οταν μήτε ἐκτείνηται ἐπί τι, μήτε εσω
συντρέχη, μήτε συνιζάνη, αλλα φωτι λαμπηται, &c. the mental sphere is
harmonious; when it is susceptible neither of attraction from without nor of
confusion within, but is irradiated with light. Marc. Antonian. lib. 11.
VOL. I.
10
}
74
THE BLESSEDNESS
though they are not essential to man, they are more expressive
of God; and are now become so inseparable from the nature of
man too, in this his glorified state, that he can as soon cease to
be intelligent, as holy. The image of God, even in this respect,
is not separable from him: nor blessedness (surely) from this
image. As the divine excellencies, being in their infinite ful-
ness in God, are his own blessedness: so is the likeness, the
participation of them in the soul, that now bears this image, its
blessedness. Nothing can be necessary to its full satisfaction,
which it hath not in itself, by a gracious vouchsafement and
communication. The good man (in that degree which his pre-
sent state admits of,) Solomon tells us, is satisfied from himself:
(Prov. 14. 14.) he doth not need to traverse the world, to seek
his happiness abroad; he hath the matter of satisfaction, even
that goodness which he is now enriched with, in his own breast
and bosom yet he hath it all by participation from the fountain-
goodness. But that participated goodness is so intimately one
with him, as sufficiently warrants and makes good the assertion,
he is satisfied from himself: namely from himself, not primarily
or independently; but by derivation from him, who is all in all,
and more intimate to us, than we to ourselves. And what is that
participated goodness, but a degree of the divine likeness? But
when that goodness shall be fully participated: when this image
and imitation of the divine goodness, shall be complete and en-
tire; then shall we know the rich exuberant sense of those
words. How fully will this image or likeness satisfy them! And
yet more distinctly, we may apprehend how satisfying this like-
ness or image impressed will be, if a little further deferring the
view of the particulars of this likeness which we have designed
to instance in, we consider these general properties of it.
*
First. It is a vital image: not the image only of him that lives,
the living God: but it is his living and soul-quickening image.
It is the likeness of him, in that very respect; an imitation and
participation of the life of God; by which, once revived, the
soul lives that was dead before. It is not a dead picture, a dumb
shew, an unmoving statue; but a living, speaking, walking, im-
age; that wherewith the child is like the father: the very life of
the subject where it is; and by which it lives as God, speaks
and acts conformably to him. An image, not such a one as is
drawn with a pencil, that expresses only color and figure; but
such a one as is seen in a glass that represents life and motion,
as was noted from a worthy author before. It is even, in its first
*Intimo nostro intimior. Esse nostrum laudabile: more intimate than
our inmost soul. The very possession is an honor. Gibeut. de libertate, ex.
Plat. and Aug.
† Sic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat: just so did he carry his eyes,
his hands, his countenance.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
75
and more imperfect draught, an analogical participation (as we
must understand it) of the divine nature; (2 Pet. 1. 4.) before
which first tincture, those preludious touches of it upon the spi-
rit of man, his former state is spoken of as an alienation from the
life of God; (Eph. 4. 18.) as having no interest, no communion
therein. The putting on of the new man, which after God is
created in righteousness and true holiness, (ver. 23. 34.) is pre-
sently mentioned, in direct opposition to that dismal state, imply-
ing that to be a participation of the divine life and certainly, so
far as it is so, it is a participation of the divine blessedness too.
Secondly. It is an image most intimate, therefore, to its sub-
ject. Glory it is: but not a superficial skin-deep glory; such as
shone in Moses' face which he covered with a vail. It is thor-
oughly transformative; changes the soul throughout; not in ex-
ternal appearance, but in its very nature. All outward embel-
lishments would add little felicity to a putrid, corrupt soul. That,
would be but painting a sepulchre: This, adds ornament unto
life; and both, especially to the inward man. It is not paint in
the face, while death is at the heart; but it is the radication of
such a principle within as will soon form and attemper the man
universally to itself. It is glory: blessedness participated, brought
home and lodged in a man's own soul, in his own bosom; he can-
not then but be satisfied. A man may have a rich stock of out-
ward comforts, and while he hath no heart to enjoy them, be
never the happier. But it is impossible, that happiness should
be thus lodged in his soul, made so intimate, and one with him ;
and yet, that he should not be satisfied, not be happy.
Not a
Thirdly. An image connatural to the spirit of man.
thing alien, and foreign to his nature, put into him purposely, as
it were, to torment and vex him; but an ancient well-known in-
habitant, that had place in him from the beginning. Sin is the
injurious intruder; which therefore puts the soul into a commo-
tion, and permits it not to rest, while it hath any being there.
This image calms it, restores it, works a peaceful, orderly com-
posure within; returns it to itself, to its pristine, blessed state;
being re-seated there, as in its proper, primitive subject. For
though this image, in respect of corrupted nature be supernatu-
ral; in respect of institute, and undefiled nature, it was in a true
sense natural, as hath been demonstrated by divers of ours against.
the papists; and upon the matter, yielded by some of the more
moderate among themselves.* At least it was connate with hu-
man nature, consentaneous to it, and perfective of it. We are
speaking, it must be remembered, of that part of the divine im-
age, that consists in moral excelicncies; there being another part
*As may be seen by comparing what Estius says to the two questions, 1.
An gratia fuerit primo homini naturalis? 2. Utrum originalis justitia fuerit
homini supernaturalis? 1. Whether grace was natural to the first man?
2.Whether original righteousness was supernatural to man? 1. 2. dist. 25.
76
THE BLESSEDNESS
of it, as hath been said, that is, even in the strictest sense, natu-
ral. There is nothing in the whole moral law of God, (in con-
formity whereunto this image did, ab origine, originally, consist)
nothing of what he requires from man, that is at all destructive
of his being, prejudicial to his comforts, repugnant to his most
innate principles: nothing that clashes with his reason, or is con-
trary to his interest: or that is not, most directly, conservative
of his being and comforts agreeable to his most rational princi-
ples, subservient to his best and truest interest. For what doth
God the Lord require, but fear and love, service, (Deut. 10. 12.
Mic. 6. 8.) and holy walking from an entire and undivided soul?
what, but what is good; not only in itself, but for us; and in re-
spect whereof, his law is said to be holy, just and good? Rom. 7.
12. And what he requireth, he impresseth. This law, written
in the heart, is this likeness. How grateful then will it be, when
after a long extermination and exile, it returns and re-possesses
the soul, is recognized by it, becomes to it a new nature, (yea,
even a divine) a vital, living law, the law of the spirit of life in
Christ Jesus? Rom. 8. 2. What grievance, or burden, is it to do
the dictates of nature? actions that easily and freely flow from
their own principles? and when blessedness itself is infolded in
those very acts and inclinations? How infinitely satisfying and
delightful will it be, when the soul shall find itself connaturalized
to every thing in its duty and shall have no other duty incumb-
ent on it than to be happy! when it shall need no arguments,
and exhortations to love God; nor need be urged and pressed,
as heretofore, to mind him, to fear before him! when love, and
reverence, and adoration, and praise; when delight, and joy,
shall be all natural acts: can you separate this, in your own
thoughts, from the highest satisfaction?
Fourthly. This image will be now perfect: every way, fully
perfect.—In all its parts; as it is in the first instant of the soul's
entrance into the state of regeneration; the womb of grace
knows no defective maimed births. And yet here is no little
advantage, as to this kind of perfection. For now those lively
lineaments of the new creature all appear, which were much ob-
scured before; every line of glory is conspicuous, every charac-
ter legible, the whole entire frame of this image is, in its exact
symmetry and apt proportions, visible at once. And it is an un-
speakable addition to the pleasure of so excellent a temper of
spirit, that accrues from the discernible entireness of it. Here-
tofore, some gracious dispensations have been to seek, (through
the present prevalence of some corruption or temptation) when
there was most need and occasion for their being reduced into
act. Hence the reward and pleasure of the act, and improve-
ment of the principle, were lost together. Now, the soul will
be equally disposed, to every holy exercise that shall be suita-
ble to its state. Its temper shall be even and symmetral; its
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
77
motions uniform, and agreeable: nothing done out of season;
nothing seasonable omitted, for want of a present disposition of
spirit thereto. There will be not only an habitual, but actual
entireness of the frame of holiness in the blessed soul.—Again
this image will be perfect in degree; so as to exclude all degrees
of its contrary, and to include all degrees of itself. There will
now be no longer any colluctation with contrary principles; no
law in the members warring against the law of the mind; no
lustings of the flesh against the spirit. That war is now ended
in a glorious victory, and eternal peace. There will be no re-
maining blindness of mind, nor error of judgment, nor perverse-
ness of will, nor irregularity or rebellion of affections: no igno-
rance of God, no aversation from him, or disaffection towards
him. This likeness removes all culpable dissimilitude or un-
likeness. This communicated glory fills up the whole soul,
causes all clouds and darkness to vanish, leaves no place for any
thing that is vile or inglorious; it is pure glory, free from mix-
ture of any thing that is alien to it. And it is itself full. The
soul is replenished, not with airy, evanid shadows; but with
substantial, solid glory, a massive, weighty glory, (2 Cor. 4. 17.)
for I know not but subjective glory may be taken in within the
significancy of that known scripture, if it be not more princi-
pally intended in as much as the text speaks of a glory to be
wrought out by afflictions, which are the files and furnaces, as it
were, to polish or refine the soul into a glorious frame. It is
cumulated glory, glory added to glory. Here it is growing pro-
gressive glory, we are changed into the same image from glory
to glory. 2 Cor. 3. 18. It shall, now, be stable, consistent
glory that carries a self-fulness with it (which some include
also in the notion of purity* :) it is full of itself, includes every
degree requisite to its own perfection. God hath now put the
last hand to this glorious image, added to it its ultimate accom-
plishments. Now, a conformity to Christ, even in the resurrec-
tion from the dead, in his glorious state, is fully attained. That
prize of the high calling of God is now won. And the humble
sense of not having attained as yet, and of not being already
perfect (in which humility, the foundation of the temple of God
in a saint is laid, and the building raised) is turned into joyful
acclamations, "Grace, grace!" for the laying on of the top-
stone, the finishing of this glorious work. And when this tem-
ple is filled with the glory of the Lord, the soul itself replenish-
ed with the divine fulness, will not its joys be full too? For here
is no sacrifice to be offered but that of praise, and joy is the
proper seasoning for that sacrifice.
:
*Purum est quod est plenum sui, et quod minimum habet alieni: that is
pure which possesses a self-fulness, and which has the least of what is for-
eign to itself.
78
THE BLESSEDNESS
Now, the new creature hath arrived to the measure of the
stature of a perfect man in Christ Jesus. The first formation of
this spiritual, as well as of the natural man, was hidden and se-
cret; it was curiously wrought, and in a way no more liable to
observation, than that of framing the child in the womb; as that
is as hidden as the concoction of minerals, or precious stones, in
the lower parts of the earth. No secrets of nature can outvie
the mysteries of godliness. Its growth is also by very insensi-
ble degrees, as it is with the products of nature; but its arrival
to perfection is infinitely more strange, than any thing in nature
ever was. How sudden and wonderful is the change; when, in
the twinkling of an eye, the blessed soul instantly awakes out
of drowsy languishings, and miserable weakness, into perfect
strength and vigor! As a man is, so is his strength; and as his
strength is, so is his joy and pleasure. The sun is said to go
forth as a strong man, rejoicing to run his race. Psal. 19. 5.
When a man goes, in the fullness of his strength, upon any en-
terprize; how do his blood and spirits triumph beforehand! no
motion of hand, or foot, is without a sensible delight. The
strength of a man's spirit is, unspeakably, more than that of the
outward man; its faculties and powers more refined and raised :
and hence are rational or intellectual exercises and operations,
much more delightful than corporal ones can be. But (still, as
the man is, so is his strength) it is an incomparably greater
strength that attends the heaven-born man. This man born of
God, begotten of God, after his own likeness; this hero this
Son of God, was born to conflicts, to victories to triumphs. While
he is yet but in his growing age, he overcomes the world (as
Hercules the serpents in his cradle ;) overcomes the wicked one,
and is at last more than conqueror. A mighty power attends
godliness; "a spirit of power, and of a sound mind;" but how
much this divine creature grows, so much the more like God:
and, being perfect, conflicts cease; he had overcome and won
the crown before. And now all his strength runs out into acts
of pleasure. Now when he shall go forth in his might to love
God, (as we are required to love him now with all our might)
and every act of praise shall be an act of power, done with a
fulness of strength (as it is said their praises, at the bringing
home of the ark, were with all their might) O! what will the
pleasure be that shall accompany this state of perfection! Per-
fect power, and perfect pleasure are here met, and shall for ever
dwell together, and be always commensurate to one another.
They are so, here, in their imperfect state: our feeble, spiritless
duties, weak, dead prayers: they have no more sweetness than
strength, no more pleasure than power in them. Therefore we
are listless, and have no mind to duties, as we find we are more
frequently destitute of a spiritual liveliness and vigor therein.
When a spirit of might and power goes on with us in the wont-
te
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
79
ed course of our converses with God, we then forecast oppor-
tunities, and gladly welcome the season, when it extraordinarily
occurs, of drawing nigh to him. It cannot be thought, that the
connexion and proportion between these should fail in glory;
or that, when every thing else is perfect, the blessed soul itself
made perfect, even as God himself is perfect, in this bearing his
likeness, should be unlike him in bliss; or its satisfaction be im-
perfect.
CHAPTER VIII.
The satisfaction carried in the glory of God impressed, having been consid-
ered in the preceding chapters generally, it is now [2] shown by instances;
certain particulars of this impression instanced in a dependent frame of
spirit, subjection or self-devoting; love, purity, liberty, tranquillity.
But besides the general consideration of this likeness, we
shall instance,
[2.] In some of the particular excellencies comprehended in
it, wherein the blessed shall imitate and resemble God; whence
we may further estimate the pleasure and satisfaction, that being
like God will afford. Only here let it be remembered, that as
we all along in this discourse, speak of likeness to God in respect
of moral excellencies; so by likeness to him, in respect of these,
we understand, not only a participation of those which are com-
municable; but a correspondent impress also, as to those that
are incommunicable; as hath been more distinctly opened in the
propositions concerning this likeness. Which being premised, I
shall give instances of both kinds, to discover somewhat of the
inexpressible pleasure of being thus conformed to God. And
here, pretermitting the impress of knowledge of which we have
spoken under the former head of vision; we shall instance,
First. In a dependent frame of spirit: which is the proper im-
press of the divine all-sufficiency, and self-fulness, duly appre-
hended by the blessed soul. It is not easy to conceive a higher
pleasure, than this, compatible to a creature, the pleasure of de-
pendence; yea, this is a higher than we can conceive. Depend-
ence (which speaks the creature's axis or habitude to its princi-
ple, as the subserviency which imports its habitude to its end) is
twofold:-Natural: which is common and essential to all crea-
tures; even when no such thing is thought on, or considered by
them. The creatures live, move, and have their beings in God,
whether they think of it or no.-Voluntary, or rational: which is
į
80
THE BLESSEDNESS
as such.
de facto, peculiar; and de jure, common, to reasonable creatures
A dependence that is, έx wgoaigedéws, elective; and, with
a foregoing reason, (which I understand by elective, not a
liberty of doing, or not doing it) and concomitant conside-
ration of what we do, and animadversion of our own act: when
knowingly and willingly, understanding ourselves in what we
do, we go out of ourselves, and live in God. This is the de-
pendance of which I speak. And it cannot but be attended
with transcendent pleasure in that other state, when that knowl-
edge and animadversion shall be clear and perfect: both, as this
dependance imports,-A nullifying of self: and magnifying (I
may call it omnifying) of God, a making him all in all. As it
imports (which it doth most evidently) a self-annihilation, a pure
nullifying of self, it is a continual recognition of my own noth-
ingness, a momently, iterated confession, that my whole being is
nothing, but a mere puff of precarious breath, a bubble raised
from nothing by the arbitrary fiat of the great Creator; reduci-
ble, had he so pleased, any moment, to nothing again. These
are true and just acknowledgments, and to a well tempered soul
infinitely pleasant, when the state of the case is thoroughly un-
derstood (as now it is) and it hath the apprehension clear; how
the creation is sustained, how, and upon what terms its own be-
ing, life and blessedness are continued to it; that it is, every mo-
ment, determinable upon the constancy of the Creator's will,
that it is not simply nothing. It is not possible, that any thing
should hinder this consideration from being eternally delightful;
but diabolical uncreaturely pride, that is long since banished
heaven, and that banished its very subjects thence also. Noth-
ing can suit that temper, but to be a God; to be wholly inde-
pendent; to be its own sufficiency. The thoughts of living at
the will and pleasure of another, are grating; but they are only
grating to a proud heart, which, here, hath no place. A soul
naturalized to humiliations, accumstomed to postrations, and self-
abasements, trained up in acts of mortification, and that was
brought to glory, through a continued course and series of self-
denial; that ever since it first came to know itself, was wont to
depend for every moment's breath, for every glimpse of light,
for every fresh influence (I live, yet not I-Gal. 2. 20.) with
what pleasure doth it, now, as it were vanish before the Lord!
what delight doth it take to diminish itself, and as it were disap-
pear; to contract and shrivel up itself, to shrink even into a
point, into a nothing, in the presence of the divine glory; that
it may be all in all! Things are now pleasant (to the soul, in its
right mind) as they are suitable; as they carry a comeliness and
congruity in them and nothing, now appears more becoming,
than such a self-annihilation. The distances of Creator and
creature, of infinite and finite, of a necessary and arbitrary being,
of self-originated and a derived being, of what was from ever-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
81
lasting and what had a beginning; are now better understood
than ever. And the soul by how much it is, now, come nearer
to God, is more apprehensive of its distance. And such a frame
and posture doth hence please it best, as doth most fitly corres-
pond thereto. Nothing is so pleasing to it, as to be as it ought.
The temper is most grateful that is most proper, and which best
agrees with its state. Dependence therefore is greatly pleasing,
as it is a self-nullifying thing. And yet it is, in this respect,
pleasing, but as a means to a further end. The pleasure that at-
tends it, is higher and more intense, according as it more imme-
diately attains that end, namely-The magnifying and exalting of
God which is the most connatural thing to the holy soul; the
most fundamental and deeply impressed law of the new creature.
Self gives place, that God may take it; becomes nothing, that
he may be all it vanishes, that his glory may shine the brighter.
Dependance gives God his proper glory. It is the peculiar hon-
or and prerogative of a Deity, to have a world of creatures hang-
ing upon it, staying themselves upon it; to be the fulcrum, the
centre of a lapsing creation. When this dependance is voluntary
and intelligent, it carries in it a more explicit owning and acknowl-
edgment of God. By how much more this is the distinct and ac-
tual sense of my soul, Lord, I cannot live but by thee; so much
the more openly and plainly do I speak it out, Lord, thou art
God alone thou art the fulness of life and being; The only root
and spring of life; The everlasting I AM; The Being of beings.
How unspeakably pleasant, to a holy soul, will such a perpet-
ual agnition or acknowledgment of God be! when the perpetua-
tion of its being, shall be nothing else than a perpetuation of
this acknowledgment; when every renewed aspiration, every
motion, every pulse of the glorified soul, shall be but a repeti-
tion of it; when it shall find, itself, in the eternity of life, that
everlasting state of life which it now possesses, to be nothing else
than everlasting testimony that God is God: He is so; for, I am,
I live, I act, I have the power to love him; none of which could
otherwise be. When amongst the innumerable myriads of the
heavenly host, this shall be the mutual, alternate testimony of
each to all the rest throughout eternity, will not this be pleasant?
When each shall feel continually the fresh illapses and incomes
of God, the power and sweetness of divine influences, the en-
livening vigor of that vital breath, and find in themselves, thus
we live and are sustained and are yet as secure, touching the
continuance of this state of life, as if every one were a God to
himself; and did each one possess an entire God-head. When
their sensible dependance on him, in their glorified state, shall be
his perpetual triumph over all the imaginary deities, the fancied
Numina, wherewith he was heretofore provoked to jealousy;
and he shall now have no rival left, but be ackowledged and
known, to be all in all. How pleasant will it then be, as it were,
VOL. I.
11
82
THE BLESSEDNESS
to lose themselves in him! and to be swallowed up in the over-
coming sense of his boundless, all-sufficient, every-where flow-
ing fulness! And then add to this; they do by this dependance
actually make this fulness of God their own. They are now met
in one common principle of life and blessedness, that is sufficient
for them all. They no longer live a life of care, are perpetually
exempt from solicitous thoughts, which here they could not per-
fectly attain to in their earthly state. They have nothing to do
but to depend: to live upon a present self-sufficient good, which
alone is enough to replenish all desires: else it were not self-
sufficient. *How can we divide, in our most abstractive thoughts,
the highest pleasure, the fullest satisfaction, from this depend-
ance? It is to live at the rate of a God; a God-like life a liv-
ing upon immense fulness, as he lives.
Secondly. Subjection; which I place next to dependance, as
being of the same allay; the product of impressed sovereignty;
as the other, of all sufficient fulness. Both impressions upon
the creature, corresponding to somewhat in God, most incommu-
nicably appropriate to him. This is the soul's real and practical
acknowledgment of the supreme Majesty; its homage to its Ma-
ker; its self-dedication: than which nothing more suits the state
of a creature, or the spirit of a saint. And as it is suitable, it is
pleasant. It is that by which the blessed soul becomes, in its own
sense, a consecrated thing, a devoted thing, sacred to God;
its very life and whole being referred and made over to him.
With what delightful relishes, what sweet gusts of pleasure is
this done! while the soul tastes its own act; approves it with a
full ungainsaying judgment; apprehends the condignity and fit-
ness of it; assents to itself herein; and hath the ready suffrage;
the harmonious concurrence of all its powers! When the words
are no sooner spoken, "Worthy art thou, O Lord, to receive
glory, honor and power, for thou hast created all things, and for
thy pleasure they are and were created;" but they are re-
sounded from the penetralia, the inmost bowels, the most inti-
mate receptacles, and secret chambers of the soul, O Lord, thou
art worthy worthy, that I, and all things should be to thee:
worthy, to be the Omega, as thou art the Alpha, the last, as
thou art the first; the end, as thou art the beginning of all
things; the ocean into which all being shall flow, as the fountain
from which it sprang. My whole self, and all my powers, the
excellencies now implanted in my being, the privileges of my
now glorified state, are all worth nothing to me but for thee;
please me only, as they make me fitter for thee. O the pleasure
of these sentiments, the joy of such raptures! when the soul
* Τὸ δὲ ἀυτάρκες τίθεμεν, ὅ μονόμενον αἱρετὸν ποιεῖ τὸν βίον, και μηδενὸς ἐνδέα :
we esteem that to be self-sufficient, which of itself makes life desirable, and
leaves no want. Arist. de mor. lib. 1. c. 4.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
83
shall have no other notion of itself, than of an everlasting sac-
rifice, always ascending to God in its own flames.
ર
:
For, this devotedness and subjection speak not, barely an act,
but a state; a being to the praise of grace a living God.
(Rom. 12. 1.) And it is no mean pleasure that the sincere soul
finds, in the imperfect beginnings, the first essays of this life, the
initial breathings of such a spirit, its entrance into this blessed
state when it makes the first tender and present of itself to God
(as the apostle expresses it:) when it first begins to esteem it-
self an hallowed thing; separate and set apart for God: its first
act of unfeigned self-resignation; when it tells God from the
very heart, "I now give up myself to thee to be thine." Never
was marrirge-covenant made with such pleasure, with so com-
placential consent. This quitting claim to ourselves, parting with
ourselves upon such terms, to be the Lord's for ever: O the
peace, the rest, the acquiescence of spirit that attends it! When
the poor soul that was weary of itself, knew not what to do with
itself, hath now on the sudden found this way of disposing it-
self to such an advantage; there is pleasure in this treaty. Even
the precious breakings and relentings of the soul towards God are
pleasant. But O the pleasure of consent! of yielding ourselves
to God, as the apostle's expression is, Rom. 6. 13. When the
soul is overcome, and cries out, "Lord, now I resign, I yield,
possess now thy own right, I give up myself to thee. That
yielding is subjection, self-devoting; in order to future service
and obedience, To whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey
&c. ver. 16. And never did any man enrol himself, as a ser-
vant to the greatest prince on earth, with such joy. What
pleasure is there in the often iterated recognition of these trans-
actions in multiplying such bounds upon a man's own soul
(though done faintly, while the fear of breaking, checks its joy
in taking them on!) When in the uttering of these words, I am
thy servant, O Lord thy servant, the son of thine hand-maid,
(Psal. 116. 16.) that is, thy born-servant, (alluding to that cus-
tom and law among the Jews,) thy servant devoted to thy fear;
(Psal. 119. 38.) a man finds they fit his spirit, and are aptly ex-
pressive of the true sense of his soul, is it not a grateful thing?
And how pleasant is a state of life consequent and agreeable to
such transactions and covenants with God! When it is meat and
drink to do his will! When his zeal eats a man up; and one
shall find himself secretly consuming for God! and the vigor of
his soul exhaled in his service! Is it not a pleasant thing so to
spend and be spent? When one can in a measure find that his
will is one with God's, transformed into the divine will that
there is but one common will and interest, and end between him
and us and so, that in serving God we reign with him; in
spending ourselves for him, we are perfected in him. Is not this
a pleasant life? Some heathens have spoken at such a rate of
i
84
1
THE BLESSEDNESS
this kind of life, as might make us wonder and blush. One
speaking of a virtuous person, (Seneca de vita beata, lib. 15. )
saith; et ut bonus miles feret vulnera, &c. he is as a good sol-
dier that bears wounds, and numbers scars; and last, smitten
through with darts, dying, will love the emperor for whom he
falls; he will (saith he) keep in mind that ancient precept, fol-
low God. But there are that complain, cry out and groan, and
are compelled by force to do his commands, and hurried into
them against their will, and what a madness is it (saith he) to
be drawn rather than follow? And presently after subjoins,
(Epist. 96.) "We are born in a kingdom; to obey God is liber-
ty." The same person writes in a letter to a friend: "If thou
believe me when I most freely discover to thee the most secret
fixed temper of my soul, in all things my mind is thus formed :
I obey not God so properly as I assent to him. I follow him
with all my heart, not because I cannot avoid it.” And another.
(Epictet. Enchir.) "Lead me to whatsoever I am appointed, and
I will follow thee cheerfully; but if I refuse, or be unwilling, I
shall follow notwithstanding."
A soul cast into such a mould, formed in an obediential subject
frame, wbat sweet peace doth it enjoy! how pleasant rest! Ev-
ery thing rests most composedly in its proper place. A bone
out of joint knows no ease, nor lets the body enjoy any. The
creature is not in its place but when it is thus subject, is in this
subordination to God. By flying out of this subordination, the
world of mankind is become one great disjointed body, full of
weary tossings, unacquainted with ease or rest. That soul that
is, but in a degree, reduced to that blessed state and temper, is
as it were in a new world; so great and happy a change doth it
now feel in itself. But when this transformation shall be com-
pleted in it; and the will of God shall be no sooner known than
rested in with a complacential approbation; and every motion of
the first and great mover shall be an efficacious law, or guide and
determine all our motions; and the lesser wheels shall presently
at the first impulse of the great and master-wheel, without the
least rub or hesitation; when the law of sin shall no longer check
the law of God; when all the contentions of a rebellious flesh;
all the counter-strivings of a perverse, ungovernable heart shall
cease for ever; O unconceivable blessedness of this consent, the
pleasure of this joyful harmony, this peaceful accord! Obedi-
ence, where it is due but from one creature to another, carries
its no small advantages with it, and conducibleness to a pleasant
unsolicitious life. To be particularly prescribed to, in things,
about which our minds would otherwise be tost with various ap-
prehensions, anxious, uncertain thoughts; how great a privilege
is it! I cannot forget a pertinent passage of an excellent person
of recent memory. "And (saith he) for pleasure, I shall pro-
*
*Dr. Hammond's sermon of Christ's easy yoke.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
85
fess myself so far from doting on that popular idol, liberty, that I
hardly think it possible for any kind of obedience to be more
painful than an unrestrained liberty. Were there not true bounds
of magistrates, of laws, of piety, of reason in the heart, every
man would have a fool, I add, a mad tyrant to his master, that
would multiply more sorrows, than briars and thorns did to Adam,
when he was freed from the bliss at once, and the restraint of
paradise; and was sure greater slave in the wilderness, than in
the inclosure. Would but the Scripture permit me that kind of
idolatry, the binding my faith and obedience to any one visible
infallible judge or prince, were it the pope, or the mufti, or the
grand Tartar; might it be reconcileable with my creed, it would
certainly be with my interest, to get presently into that posture
of obedience. I should learn so much of the Barbarian Ambas-
sadors in Appian, which came on purpose to the Romans to ne-
gociate for leave to be their servants. It would be my policy if
not my piety and may now be my wish, though not my faith,
that I might never have the trouble to deliberate, to dispute, to
doubt, to choose, (those so many profitless uneasinesses) but only
the favor to receive commands, and the meekness to obey them.
How pleasureable then must obedience be to the perfect will of
the blessed God, when our wills shall also be perfectly attemper-
ed and conformed thereunto! Therefore are we taught, Thy will
be done in earth as it is in heaven. Perfectissimum in suo genere
est mensura reliquorum: what is most perfect in its kind, gives
rule to the rest.
:
Thirdly. Love. This is an eminent part of the image or like-
ness of God in his saints; as it is that great attribute of the di-
vine being that is, alone, put to give us a notion of God; God is
love (1 John 4. 8. 16.) This is an excellency (consider it whe-
ther in its original, or copy) made up of pleasantness. All love
hath complacency or pleasure in the nature and most formal no-
tion of it. To search for pleasure in love is the same thing as if
a man should be solicitous to find water in the sea, or light in
the body of the sun. Love to a friend is not without high plea-
sure, when especially he is actually present, and enjoyed, love
to a saint rises higher in nobleness and pleasure, according to the
more excellent qualification of its object. It is now in its high-
est improvement, in both these aspects of it; where whatsoever
tends to gratify our nature, whether as human, or holy, will be
in its full perfection. Now doth the soul take up its stated dwell-
ing in love, even in God who is love; and as he is love: it is
now enclosed with love, encompassed with love, it is conversant
in the proper region, and element of love. The love of God is
now perfected in it. That love which is not only participated
from him, but terminated in him, that perfect love (1 John. 4.
18.) casts out tormenting fear: so that here is pleasure without
mixture. How naturally will the blessed soul now dissolve and
86
THE BLESSEDNESS
melt into pleasure! It is new framed on purpose for love-embra-
ces and enjoyments. It shall now love like God, as one compo-
sed of love. It shall no longer be its complaint and burden, that
it cannot retaliate in this kind; that being beloved it cannot love.
Fourthly. Purity. Herein also must the blessed soul resem-
ble God, and delight itself. Every one that hath this hope,
(namely of being hereafter like God, and seeing him as he is)
purifieth himself as he is pure. A god-like purity is intimately
connected with the expectation of future blessedness, much more
with the fruition. "Blessed are the pure in heart; besides the
reason there annexed, for they shall see God," (which is to be
considered under the other head, the pleasure unto which this
likeness disposes) that proposition carries its own reason in itself.
It is an incomparable pleasure that purity carries in its own na-
ture as sin hath in its very nature, besides its consequent guilt
and sorrow, trouble and torment beyond expression. Whatso-
ever defiles, doth also disturb: nor do any but pure pleasures de-
serve the name. *An Epicurus himself will tell us, there can-
not be pleasure without wisdom, honesty and righteousness. It
is least of all possible there should, when once a person shall
have a right knowledge of himself, and (which is the moral im-
purity whereof we speak) the filthiness of sin. I doubt not but
much of the torment of hell, will consist in those too late, and
despairing self-loathings, those sickly resentments, the impure
wretches will be possessed with, when they see what hideous de-
formed monsters their own wickedness hath made them. Here
the gratifications of sense that attend it, bribe and seduce their
judgments into another estimate of sin: but then it shall be no
longer thought of under the more favorable notion of a yλuxúπixgov
they shall taste nothing but the gall and wormwood. It is cer-
tainly no improbable thing, but that reason being now so fully
rectified and undeceived, vízors torn off, and things now appear-
ing in their own likeness; so much will be seen, and apprehend-
ed of the intrinsic evil and malignity of their vitiated natures, as
will serve for the matter of further torment; while yet such a
sight can do no more to a change of their temper, than the devil's
faith doth to theirs. Such sights being accompanied with their
no-hope of ever attaining a better state, do therefore no way
tend to mollify or demulce their spirits, but to increase their rage
and torment. It is however out of question, that the purity of
heaven will infinitely enhance the pleasure of it: for it is more
certain, the intrinsical goodness of holiness (which term I need
not among these instances; inasmuch as the thing admits not of
one entire notion, but lies partly under this head, partly under
*Whose doctrine as to this matter of pleasure, is not so much to be blamed
as his practice; if both be rightly represented to us.
(Ex. Cicer. 1. de Fin,) > Ου' κ ἐστιν ηδέως ζην ανευ τα φρονησεως καὶ
δικαιωσέως,
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
87
the second, that of devotedness to God) will be fully understood
in heaven, than the intrinsical evil of sin in hell: and when it is
understood, will it not effect? will it not please? Even here,
how pleasing are things to the pure (but in degree so) that partici-
pate of the divine purity! Thy word is very pure, saith the
psalmist, Psal. 117, 140. therefore thy servant loveth it. Under
this notion do holy ones take pleasure in each other; because
they see somewhat of the divine likeness, their Father's image,
in one another: will it not be much more pleasing to find it each
one perfect in himself? to feel the ease and peace, and rest, that
naturally goes with it? A man that hath any love of cleanli-
ness, if casually plunged into the mire, he knows not what to do
with himself, he fancies his own clothes to abhor him (as Job
rhetorically speaks, Job. 9.) so doth as natural a pleasure attend
purity; it hath it even in itself. The words of the pure (saith
the wise man) are pleasant words (Prov. 15. 20.) words of plea-
santness it might be read. That pure breath that goes from him,
is not without a certain pleasurableness accompanying it. And
if so to another, much more to himself, especially when every
thing corresponds; and (as the expression is) he finds himself
clean throughout.
Fifthly. Liberty, another part of the divine likeness, wherein
we are to imitate God, cannot but be an unspeakable satisfaction.
Supposing such a state of the notion of the liberty as may render
it really a perfection; which otherwise it would be a wickedness:
to impute to God, and an impossibility to partake from him. I
here speak of the moral liberty of a saint, as such; not of the
natural liberty of a man, as a man: and of the liberty consum-
mate of saints in glory not of the inchoate imperfect liberty
of saints on earth. And therefore the intricate controver-
sies about the liberty of the human will, lie out of our way, and
need not give us any trouble. It is out of question that this li-
berty consists not (what ever may be said of any other) in an
equal propension to good or evil; nor in the will's independency
on the practical understanding; nor in a various uncertain muta-
bility, or inconstancy; nor is it such as is opposed to all necessi-
ty; it is not a liberty from the government of God,* nor from a
determination to the simply best, and most eligible objects. But
it is a liberty from the servitude of sin, from the seduction of a
misguided judgment, and the allurement of any insnaring for-
bidden object: consisting in an unbounded amplitude and en-
largedness of soul towards God, and indetermination to any infe-
rior good resulting from an entire subjection to the divine will,
a submission to the order of God, and steady adherence to him.
*Which is a no more desirable state than that which, I remember, the histo-
rian tells us was the condition of the Armenians; who having cast off the gov-
ernment that was over them, became Incerti, solutique et magis sine Domino
quam in libertate. Unsettled, licentious, and rather in a state of anarchy than
of freedom.
88
THE BLESSEDNESS
And unto which the many descriptions and elogies agree most
indisputably, which from sundry authors are congested together
by Gibieuf,* in that ingenious tractate of liberty. As that, he is
free that lives as he will, (from Cicero insisted on by S. Aug. de
Civit. Dei lib. 14. c. 25.) that is who never wishes any thing, nor
fears any thing; who in all things acquiesces in the will of God;
who minds nothing but his own things, and accounts nothing his
own but God; who favors nothing but God; who is moved only
by the will of God. Again; he is free, that cannot be hindered,
being willing, nor forced being unwilling (from Epictetus) that is
who hath always his will; as having perfectly subjected it to the
will of God, as the same author explains himself. Again; he is
free that is master of himself (from the Civilians) that is (as that
liberty respects the spirit of a man) that hath a mind independ-
ent on any thing foreign and alien to himself. That only follows
God (from Philo Judeus;) that lives according to his own reason
(from Aristotle :) with many more of like import; that alone
does fully and perfectly suit that state of liberty the blessed soul
shall hereafter eternally enjoy; as that author often acknowl-
edges.
This is "the glorious liberty of the children of God; the li-
berty wherewith the Son makes free. Liberty indeed, measured
and regulated by the royal law of liberty, and which is perfected
only in a perfect conformity thereto. There is a most servilef
liberty, a being free from righteousness, which under that spe-
cious name and show, enslaves a man to corruption : and there
is as free service, by which a man is still the more free, by how
much the more he serves, and is subject to his superior's will,
and governing influences; and by how much the less possible it
is, he should swerve therefrom.§ The nearest approaches there-
*Libertas nostra non est subjectio ad Deum formaliter, sed amplitudo con-
sequens eam. Our liberty consists formally not in our subjection unto God,
but in that enlargedness of soul which is its result. Gibieuf, De libert. Dei et
creaturae, lib. 1. c. 32.
+Quam invexere sibi, adjuvant servitutem. Et sunt, quodammodo, proprià
Libertate captivi. They promote the servitude which they have brought up-
on themselves. And they are in a sense slaves to their liberty. (Boeth. ex.
Gib.) Nectit quà valeat trahi catenam. He forges his own chain. Sen. Trag.
‡Rom. 6. 20.
||2 Pet. 2.
§Liberior quo diviniæ gratiæ subjectior. Primum Liberum arbitrium, quod
homini datum est, quando primum creatus est rectus, potuit non peccare; sed
potuit et peccare. Hoc autem novissimum eò potentius erit, quo peccare non
potuit. The more subject to divine grace the more free. That original free
will which was given to men when he was created in rectitude gave the pow-
er of avoiding sin; but it also gave the power of committing it; whereas that
which is now bestowed is inferior to the former as it includes the possibility
of sinning. Aug. de Civitat. Dei lib. 22. c. 30.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
89
1
fore of the soul to God; its most intimate union with him, and
entire subjection to him in its glorified state, makes its liberty
consummate. Now is its deliverance complete, its bands are
fallen off; it is perfectly disentangled from all the snares of death,
in which it was formerly held; it is under no restraints, oppress-
ed by no weights, held down by no clogs; it hath the free exer-
cise of all its powers; hath every faculty aud affection at com-
mand. How unconceivable a pleasure is this? With what de-
light doth the poor prisoner entertain himself, when his manacles
and fetters are knocked off! when he is enlarged from his loath-
some dungeon, and the house of his bondage; breathes in a free
air; can dispose of himself, and walk at liberty whither he will!
The bird escaped from his cage, or freed from his line and stone,
that resisted its vain and too feeble strugglings before; how
pleasantly doth it range! with what joy doth it clap its wings,
and take its flight! A faint emblem of the joy, wherewith that
pleasant cheerful note shall one day be sung and chanted forth,
Our soul is escaped, as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; the
snare is broken, and we are escaped. There is now no place for
such a complaint, I would, but I cannot; I would turn my thoughts
to glorious objects, but I cannot. The blessed soul feels itself free
from all confinement: nothing resists its will, as its will doth
never resist the will of God. It knows no limits, no restraints;
is not tied up to this or that particular good; but expatiates free-
ly in the immense universal all-comprehending goodness of God
himself.* And this liberty is the perfect image and likeness of
the liberty of God, especially in its consummate state. In its
progress towards it, it increases as the soul draws nearer to God;
which nearer approach is not in respect of place or local near-
ness, but likeness and conformity to him; in respect whereof, as
God is most sublime and excellent in himself, so is it in him. Its
consummate liberty is, when it is so fully transformed into that
likeness of God, as that he is all to it, as to himself: so that
as he is an infinite satisfaction to himself; his likeness in this re-
spect, is the very satisfaction itself of the blessed soul.
* Libertas nostra inhæret divinæ, ut exemplari et in perpetua ejus imitatio-
ne versatur, sive ortum, sive progressum, sive consummationem ejus intu-
earis: Libertas nostra, in ortu, est capacitas Dei. In progressu, libertas res
est longe clarior: progressus enim attenditur penes accessum hominis ad De-
um; qui quidem non locali propinquitate, sed imitatione, et assimmilatione
constat, et ea utique imitatione et assimilatione secundum quam, sicut Deus
est sublimis, et excelsus seipso ita homo est sublimis, et excelsus Deo, et alti-
tudo ejus Deus est ut inquit D. Augustinus. Our liberty follows the liberty
of God as its pattern, and consists in the perpetual imitation of him, whether
you consider its rise, or progress, or consummation. Our liberty in its rise is
the power of God: in its progress, liberty is a thing greatly increasing in
brightness; for that progress is according to the nearer approach of man to
God, which consists not in local nearness, but an imitation and conformity to
him, so that as God is sublime and excellent in himself; so man is sublime
and excellent in God: and God is his exaltation as saith Augustine. Con-
12
VOL. I.
90
THE BLESSEDNESS
Sixthly. Tranquillity. This also is an eminent part of that
assimilation to God, wherein the blessedness of the holy soul
must be understood to lie: a perfect composure, a perpetual and
everlasting calm, an eternal vacancy from all unquietness or per-
turbation. Nothing can be supposed more inseparably agreeing
to the nature of God than this: whom scripture witnesses to be
without variableness or shadow of change. There can be no
commotion without mutation, nor can the least mutation have
place in a perfectly simple and uncompounded nature: whence
even pagan reason hath been wont to attribute the most undis-
turbed and unalterable tranquillity to the nature of God. Balaam
knew it was incompatible to him to lie, or repent. And (suppo-
sing him to speak this from a present inspiration) it is their com-
mon doctrine concerning God. Omnes turbulæ tempestates quæ
procul a Deorum cœlestium tranquillitate exulant, &c. (Apuleius
de Deo Socratis.) Any, the least troubles and tempests are far
exiled from the tranquillity of God; for all the inhabitants of
heaven do ever enjoy the same stable tenor, even an eternal equal-
ity of mind. And a little after speaking of God, saith he, it is
neither possible he should be moved by the force of another, for
nothing is stronger than God: nor of his own accord, for nothing
is more perfect than God. And whereas there is somewhat that
is mutable, and subject to change; somewhat that is stable and
fixed. Another saith-Ἐν ποτέρα τῶν φυσέων τάτων τὸν θεὸν τακτέον ;
ἄρα οὐκ ἐν ςασιμώτερα καὶ ἑδραιμότερα, καὶ ἀπηλλαγμένη τῇ ρεύματος τότε, &c.
In which of those natures shall we place God? must we not in
that which is more stable and fixed, and free from this fluidness
and mutability? For what is there among all beings, that can
be stable or consist, if God do not by his own touch stay and sus-
tain the nature of it? (Max. Tyr.) desert. 1.
Hence it is made a piece of conformity, of likeness to God, by
another who tells his friend, Quod desideras autem magnum,
summum est, Deoque vicinum; non concuti. It is a high and
great thing which thou desirest, and even bordering upon a Dei-
ty; not to be moved. (Sen. de tranquil. Animi.) Yea, so hath
summatio denique libertatis est, cum homo in Deum, felicissimo gloriæ cœles-
tis statu transformatur; et Deus omnia illi esse incipit. Qui quidem postre-
mus status, eo differt a priore ;-quippe homo tum non modo inalligatus est
creaturis, sed nec circa illas procedit, ut faciebat cum esset, in creaturis se
infundit, nec per illas procedit, ut faciebat cum esset, viator: sed in solo
Deo, et conquiescit et effundit se placidissime, et motus ejus, cum sit ad
presentissimum et conjunctissimum bonum, similior est quieti quam motui.
The consummation of liberty therefore is when man is transformed into the
likeness of God in the happy state of celestial glory, and when God begins to
be his all. Which last state is so different from the preceding, because then
man is not only unfettered from the creatures, but is not at all concerned
about them, even with respect to his final object, he neither immerges him-
self in them nor falls by them, as was the case when he was a pilgrim: but
in God alone he both rests and pours himself out with the greatest tranquilli-
ty; and the very motion of his soul as it is towards a most immediately and
perfect good is more like rest than motion.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
91
this doctrine been insisted on by them, that (while other divine
perfections have been less understood,) it hath occasioned the
stoical assertion of fatality to be introduced on the one hand,
and the Epicurean negation of providence on the other; lest any
thing should be admitted that might seem repugnant to the tran-
quillity of their Numina. But we know that our God doth what-
soever pleaseth him, both in heaven and earth; and that he doth
all according to the wise counsel of his holy will; freely, not
fatally, upon the eternal prevision, and foresight of all circum-
stances and events: so that nothing can occur that is new to him,
nothing that he knows not how to improve to good; or that can
therefore infer any alteration of his counsels, or occasion to him
the least perturbation or disquiet in reference to them.
Holy souls begin herein to imitate him, as soon as they first
give themselves up to his wise and gracious conduct. It is enough
that he is wise for himself and them. Their hearts safely trust
in him. They commit themselves, with unsolicitous confidence,
to his guidance; knowing he cannot himself be mis-led, and that
he will not mis-lead them: as Abraham followed him, not know-
ing whither he went. And thus, by faith, they enter into his
rest. They do now in their present state, only enter into it, or
hover about the borders: their future assimilation to God in this,
gives them a stated settlement of spirit in this rest. They be-
fore did owe their tranquillity to their faith: now to their actual
fruition. Their former acquiescency, and sedate temper was
hence, that they believed God would deal well with them at last :
their present, for that he hath done so. Those words have now,
their fullest sense (both as to the rest itself which they mention;
and the season of it) Return to thy rest, O my soul, for the
Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. Psal. 116. 7. The oc-
casions of trouble, and a passive temper of spirit are ceased to-
gether. There is now no fear without, nor terror within. The
rage of the world is now allayed, it storms no longer. Reproach
and persecution have found a period. There is no more drag-
ging before tribunals, nor haling into prisons; no more running
into dens and deserts; or wandering to and fro in sheepskins,
and goatskins. And with the cessation of the external occa-
sions of trouble, the inward dispositions thereto are also ceased.
All infirmities of spirit, tumultuating passions, unmortified corrup-
tions, doubts, or imperfect knowledge of the love of God, are
altogether vanished, and done away for ever. And indeed, that
perfect cure wrought within, is the soul's great security from all
future disquiet. A well tempered spirit hath been wont strange-
ly to preserve its own peace in this unquiet world. Philosophy
hath boasted much in this kind; and Christianity performed
more. The philosophical (yan, or) calmness of mind, is not
without its excellency and praise: "That stable settlement and
fixedness of spirit, that subuía (as the moralist tells us, it was
92
THE BLESSEDNESS
wont to be termed among the Grecians, and which he calls tran-
quillity;) when the mind is always equal, and goes a smooth,
even course, is propitious to itself, and beholds the things that
concern it with pleasure, and interrupts not this joy, but remains
in a placid state, never at any time exalting or depressing itself."
But how far doth the Christian peace surpass it! (Sen. de tran-
quil. anim.) that peace which passeth all understanding; Phil. 4.
7.) that amidst surrounding dangers, enables the holy soul to say
(without a proud boast) None of all these things move me:
Act. 20. 24.) the peace that immediately results from that faith,
which unites the soul with God, and fixes it upon him as its firm
basis: when it is kept in perfect peace, by being stayed upon
him, because it trusts in him: when the heart is fixed, trusting
in the Lord; filled full of joy and peace, or of joyous peace, (by
an ev dia duoiv) in believing, Isa. 26. 3. Psal. 112. 7. Rom. 15. 13.
And if philosophy and (which far transcends it) christianity, rea-
son and faith, have that statique power, can so compose the soul,
and reduce it to so quiet a consistency in the midst of storms and
tempests; how perfect and contentful a repose, will the immedi-
ate vision, and enjoyment of God afford it, in that serene and
peaceful region, where it shall dwell forever, free from any mo-
lestation from without, or principle of disrest within!
CHAPTER IX.
(2.) The pleasure arising from knowing, or considering ourselves to be like
God from considering it, [1.] Absolutely, [2.] Comparatively, or respective-
ly; First, To the former state of the soul. Secondly, To the state of lost
souls. Thirdly, To its pattern. Fourthly, To the way of accomplishment.
Fifthly, To the soul's own expectations. Sixthly, To what it secures. 2.
The pleasure whereto it disposes. (1.) Of Union, (2.) Communion—a com-
parison of this righteousness, with this blessedness.
(2.) Here is also to be considered, the pleasure and satisfac-
tion involved in this assimilation to God, as it is known or re-
flected on, or that arises from the cognosci of this likeness. We
have hitherto discoursed of the pleasure of being like God, as
that is apprehended by a spiritual sensation, a feeling of that in-
ward rectitude, that happy pleasure of souls now perfectly res-
tored: we have yet to consider a further pleasure, which accrues
from the soul's animadversion upon itself, its contemplating itself
thus happily transformed. And though that very sensation be
not without some animadversion (as indeed no sensible percep-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
93
tion can be performed without it,) yet we must conceive a con-
sequent animadversion, which is much more explicit and distinct;
and which therefore yields a very great addition of satisfaction
and delight as when the blessed soul shall turn its eye upon
itself, and designedly compose and set itself to consider its pre-
sent state and frame; the consideration it shall now have of itself
and this likeness impressed upon it, may be either absolute, or
comparative and respective.
[1] Absolute. How pleasing a spectacle will this be, when
the glorified soul shall now intentively behold its own glorious
frame? when it shall dwell in the contemplation of itself? view
itself round on every part, turn its eye from glory to glory, from
beauty to beauty, from one excellency to another and trace over
the whole draught of this image, this so exquisite piece of divine
workmanship, drawn out in its full perfection upon itself? when
the glorified eye, and divinely enlightened and inspirited mind,
shall apply itself to criticise, and make a judgement upon every
several lineament, every touch and stroke; shall stay itself, and
scrupulously insist upon every part; view at leisure every cha-
racter of glory the blessed God hath instamped upon it; how
will this likeness now satisfy! And that expression of the bless-
ed apostle (taken notice of upon some other occasion formerly)
"the glory to be revealed in us," seems to import in it a refer-
ence to such a self-intuition. What serves revelation for, but in
order to vision? what is it, but an exposing things to view? And
what is revealed in us, is chiefly exposed to our own view. All
the time, from the soul's first conversion till now, God hath been
as it were at work upon it, (He that hath wrought us to, &c. 2.
Cor. 5. 5.) hath been laboring it, shaping it, polishing it, spread-
ing his own glory upon it, inlaying, enameling it with glory: now
at last, the whole work is revealed, the curtain is drawn aside,
the blessed soul awakes. "Come now," saith God, "behold my
work, see what I have done upon thee, let my work now see the
light; I dare expose it to the censure of the most curious eye,
let thine own have the pleasure of beholding it." It was a work
carried on in a mystery, secretly wrought (as in the lower parts
of the earth, as we alluded before) by a spirit that came and
went no man could tell how. Besides, that in the general only
we knew we should be like him, it did not yet appear what we
should be; now it appears: there is a revelation of this glory.
O the ravishing pleasure of its first appearance! and it will be a
glory always fresh and flourishing, (as Job's expression is, "my
glory was fresh in me") and will afford a fresh, undecaying plea-
sure for ever.
[2.] The blessed soul may also be supposed to have a com-
parative and respective consideration of the impressed glory.
That is, so as to compare it with, and refer it to several things
that may come into consideration with it and may so heighten
its own delight in the contemplation thereof.
:
94
THE BLESSEDNESS,
1
First. If we consider this impression of glory, in reference to
its former loathsome deformities that were upon it, and which are
now vanished and gone: how unconceivable a pleasure will arise
from this comparison! When the soul shall consider at once what
it is, and what once it was, and thus bethink itself: I that did
sometimes bear the accursed image of the prince of darkness,
do now represent and partake of the holy, pure nature of the
Father of lights: I was a mere choas, a hideous heap of deform-
ity, confusion and darkness, but he that made light to shine out
of darkness, shined into me, to give the knowledge of the light
of his own glory in the face of Jesus Christ; (2. Cor. 4. 6.)
and since, made my way as the shining light, shining brighter
and brighter unto this perfect day. Prov. 4. 18.
Prov. 4. 18. I was a habi-
tation for dragons, a cage of noisome lusts, that as serpents and
vipers, were winding to and fro through all my faculties and
powers, and preying upon my very vitals; then was I hateful to
God, and a hater of him; sin and vanity had all my heart; the
charming invitations, and allurements of grace, were as music to
a dead man; to think a serious thought of God, or breathe forth
an affectionate desire after him, was as much against my heart,
as to pluck out mine own eyes, or offer violence to mine own
life; after I began to live the spiritual, new life, how slow and
faint was my progress and tendency towards perfection! how in-
disposed did I find myself to the proper actions of that life; to
go about any holy, spiritual work, was too often, as to climb a
hill, or strive against the stream; or as an attempt to fly without
wings. I have sometimes said to my heart, Come, now let us
go pray, love God, think of heaven; but O how listless to these
things! how lifeless in them, impressions made, how quickly
lost! gracious frames, how soon wrought off and gone! charac-
ters of glory razed out, and overspread with earth and dirt! di-
vine comeliness hath now at length made me perfect: the glory
of God doth now inclothe me; they are his ornaments I now
wear. He hath made me, who lately lay among the pots, as the
wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yel-
low gold; he hath put another nature into me, the true likeness
of his own holy divine nature; he hath now perfectly mastered
and wrought out the enmity of my heart against him: now to be
with God is my very element: loving, admiring, praising him,
are as natural as breathing once was. I am all spirit and life, I
feel myself disburdened, and unclogged of all the heavy, op-
pressive weights that hung upon me: no body of death doth now
incumber me, no deadness of heart, no coldness of love, no
drowsy sloth, no averseness from God, no earthly mind, no sen-
sual inclinations or affections, no sinful divisions of heart be-
tween God and creatures: he hath now the whole of me: I en-
joy and delight in none but him: O blessed change! O happy
day!
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
95
Secondly. If in contemplating itself, clothed with this like-
ness, it respects the state of damned souls, what transports must
that occasion! what ravishing resentments! when it compares
human nature in its highest perfection, with the same nature in
its utmost depravation, (an unspeakably more unequal compari-
son than that would be, of the most amiable lovely person,
flourishing in the prime of youthful strength and beauty, with a
putrified rotten carcass, deformed by the corruption of a loath-
some grave,) when glorified spirits shall make such a reflection
as this: Lo, here we shine in the glorious brightness of the di-
vine image; and behold yonder deformed accursed souls: they
were as capable of this glory as we; had the same nature with
us, the same reason, the same intellectual faculties and powers;
but what monsters are they now become? They eternally hate
the eternal excellency. Sin and death are finished upon them.
They have each of them a hell of horror and wickedness in itself.
Whence is this amazing difference! Though this cannot but be
an awful wonder, it cannot also but be tempered with pleasure
and joy.
Thirdly. We may suppose this likeness to be considered in
reference to its pattern, and in comparison therewith; which
will then be another way of heightening the pleasure that shall
arise thence. Such a frame and constitution of spirit is full of
delights in itself: but when it shall be referred to its original, and
the correspondency between the one and the other be observed
and viewed; how exactly they accord, and answer each other,
as face doth face in the water: this cannot still but add pleasure
to pleasure, one delight to another. When the blessed soul
shall interchangeably turn its eye to God, and itself; and con-
sider the agreement of glory to glory; the several derived ex-
cellencies to the original; He is wise, and so am I; holy, and so
am I: I am now made perfect as my heavenly Father is; this
gives a new relish to the former pleasure. How will this like-
ness please under that notion, as it is his; a likeness to him! O
the accent that will be put upon those appropriate words, to
be made partakers of his holiness, and of the divine nature!
Personal excellencies in themselves considered, cannot be re-
flected on, but with some pleasure; but to the ingenuity of a
child, how especially grateful will it be, to observe in itself such
and such graceful deportments, wherein it naturally imitates its
father! So he was wont to speak, and act, and demean himself.
How natural is it unto love to affect and aim at the imitation of
the person loved! So natural it must be to take complacency
therein; when we have hit our mark, and achieved our design.
The pursuits and attainments of love are proportionable and corres-
pondent each to other. And what heart can compass the great-
ness of this thought, to be made like God! Lord, was there no
lower pattern than thyself, thy glorious blessed self, according to
96
THE BLESSEDNESS
which to form a worm! This cannot want its due resentments in
a glorified state.
Fourthly. This transformation of the blessed soul into the
likeness of God, may be viewed by it, in reference to the way of
accomplishment: as an end, brought about by so amazing stupen-
dous means which will certainly be a pleasing contemplation.
When it reflects on the method and course insisted on, for
bringing this matter to pass; views over the work of redemption
in its tendency to this end, the restoring God's image in souls;
(Phil. 2. 7.) considers Christ manifested to us, in order to his
being revealed and formed in us: that God was made in the like-
ness of man to make men after the likeness of God; that he
partook with us of the human nature, that we might with him
partake of the divine; that he assumed our flesh, in order to
impart to us his Spirit when it shall be considered, for this end
had we so many great and precious promises; (2 Pet. 1. 4.) for
this end did the glory of the Lord shine upon us through the
glass of the gospel; (2 Cor. 3. 18.) that we might be made par-
takers, &c. that we might be changed, &c. Yea, when it shall
be called to mind, (though it be far from following hence, that
this is the only or principal way, wherein the life and death of
Christ have influence, in order to our eternal happiness) that
our Lord Jesus lived for this end, that we might learn so to walk,
as he also walked; that he died that we might be conformed to
his death; that he rose again that we might with him attain the res-
urrection of the dead; that he was in us the hope of glory, that he
might be in us (that is, the same image that bears his name) our
final consummate glory itself also: with what pleasure will these
harmonious congruities, these apt correspondencies, be looked into
at last! Now may the glorified saint say, I here see the end the
Lord Jesus came into the world for, I see for what he was lifted
up, made a spectacle; that he might be a transforming one:
what the effusions of his Spirit were for; why it so earnestly
strove with my wayward heart. I now behold in my own soul,
the fruit of the travail of his soul. This was the project of re-
deeming love, the design of all powerful gospel-grace. Glorious
achievements! blessed end of that great and notable undertak-
ing! happy issue of that high design!
Fifthly. With a reference to all their own expectations and
endeavors. When it shall be considered by a saint in glory; the
attainment of this perfect likeness to God, was the utmost mark
of all my designs and aims; the term of all my hopes and de-
sires this is that I longed and labored for; that which I prayed
and waited for; which I so earnestly breathed after, and rest-
lessly pursued: it was but to recover the defacedness of God:
to be again made like him, as once I was. Now I have attained
my end; I have the fruit of all my labor and travels; I see now
the truth of those (often) encouraging words, blessed are they
that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
97
Be not weary in well-doing, for ye shall reap, if ye faint not:
what would I once have given for a steady, abiding frame of ho-
liness, for a heart constantly bent and biased toward God; con-
stantly serious, constantly tender, lively, watchful, heavenly,
spiritual, meek, humble, cheerful, self-denying? how have I cried
and striven for this, to get such a heart! such a temper of spirit!
how have I pleaded with God and my own soul, in order hereto !
how often over have I spread this desire before the searcher and
judge of hearts; Turn me out of all my worldly comforts, so
thou give me but such a heart; let me spend my days in a prison,
or a desert, so I have but such a heart; I refuse no reproaches,
no lossess, no tortures, may I but have such a heart? How hath
my soul been sometimes ravished with the very thoughts of such
a temper of spirit, as hath appeared amiable in my eye, but I
could not attain? and what a torture again hath it been that I
could not? What grievance in all the world, in all the days of
my vanity, did I ever find comparable to this; to be able to frame
to myself by Scripture, and rational light and rules, the notion
and idea of an excellent temper of spirit; and then to behold it,
to have it in view, and not be able to reach it, to possess my
soul of it? What indignation have I sometimes conceived against
mine own soul, when I have found it wandering, and could not
reduce it; hovering, and could not fix it; dead, and could not
quicken it; low, and could not raise it? How earnestly have I
expected this blessed day, when all those distempers should be
perfectly healed, and my soul recover a healthly, lively, spiritual
frame? What fresh ebullitions of joy will here be, when all
former desires, hopes, endeavors are crowned with success and
fruit! This joy is the joy of harvest. They that have sown in
tears, do now reap in joy. They that went out weeping, bearing
precious seed; now with rejoicing, bring their sheaves with
them. Psal. 126. 6.
Sixthly. In reference to what this impressed likeness shall for
ever secure to it: an everlasting amity and friendship with God;
-that it shall never sin, nor he ever frown more.-That it shall
sin no more. The perfected image of God in it, is its security
for this for it is holy throughout; in every point conformed to
his nature and will; there remains in it nothing contrary to him.
It may therefore certainly conclude, it shall never be liable to
the danger of doing any thing, but what is good in his sight:
and what solace will the blessed soul find in this! If now an an-
gel from heaven should assure it, that from such an hour it should
sin no more, the world would not be big enough to hold such a
soul. It hath now escaped the deadliest of dangers, the worst
of deaths, (and which even in its present state, upon more de-
liberate calmer thoughts it accounts so) the sting of death, the
very deadliness of death; the hell of hell itself. The deliver-
ance is now complete which cannot but end in delight and praise.
VOL. I.
13
98
THE BLESSEDNESS
-That God can never frown more. This it is hence also as-
sured of. How can he but take perfect, everlasting complacen-
cy in his own perfect likeness and image; and behold with plea-
sure his glorious workmanship, now never liable to impairment
or decay? How pleasant a thought is this, "The blessed God
never beholds me but with delight! I shall always behold his
serene countenance, his amiable face never covered with any
clouds, never darkened with any frown! I shall now have cause
to complain no more; my God is a stranger to me, he conceals
himself, I cannot see his face; lo, he is encompassed with clouds
and darkness, or with flames and terrors." These occasions are
for ever ceased. God sees no cause, either to behold the blessed
soul with displeasure, or with displeasure to avert from it, and
turn off his eye. And will not this eternally satisfy! When
God himself is so well pleased, shall not we!
2. The pleasure it disposes to. Besides that the inbeing and
knowledge of this likeness are so satisfying; it disposes, and is
the soul's qualification for a yet further pleasure that of closest
union, and most inward communion with the blessed God.
(1.) Union: which (what it is more than relation) is not till
now complete. Besides relation it must needs import presence:
not physical, or local; for so nothing can be nearer God than it
is but moral and cordial, by which the holy soul with will and
affections, guided by rectified reason and judgment, closes with,
and embraces him; and he also upon wise forelaid counsel, and
with infinite delight and love embraceth it: so friends are said to
be one (besides their relation as friends) by a union of hearts.
A union between God and the creature, as to kind and nature
higher than this, and lower than hypostatical or personal union, I
understand not, and therefore say nothing of it. I would fain
know what the Tertium shall be, resulting from the physical un-
ion, some speak of.
:
But as to the union here mentioned: as, till the image of God
be perfected, it is not completed; so it cannot but be perfect
then. When the soul is perfectly formed according to God's
own heart, and fully participates the divine likeness, is perfectly
like him; that likeness cannot but infer the most intimate union
that two such natures can admit that is, (for nature) a love-un-
ion; such as that which our Saviour mentions, and prays to the
Father to perfect, between themselves and all believers, and
among believers, mutually with one another. Many much trouble
themselves about this scripture; (John 17. 21.) but sure that
can be no other than a love-union. For, it is such a union as
christians are capable of among themselves; for surely he would
never pray that they might be one with a union whereof they
are not capable. It is such a union as may be made visible to
the world. Whence it is an obvious corollary, that the union
between the Father and the Son, there spoken of as the pattern
#
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
99
of this, is not their union or oneness in essence (though it be a
most acknowledged thing, that there is such an essential union
between them ;) for, who can conceive that saints should be one
among themselves, and with the Father and the Son, with such
a union as the Father and the Son are one themselves, if the es-
sential union between Father and Son were the union here spok-
en of; but the exemplary or pattern-union, here mentioned be-
tween the Father and Son, is but a union in mind, in love, in
design, and interest; wherein he prays, that saints on earth
might visibly be one with them also, that the world might be-
lieve, &c. It is yet a rich pleasure that springs up to glorified
saints from that love-union (now perfected) between the blessed
God and them. It is mentioned and shadowed in Scripture, un-
der the name and notion of marriage-union; in which the great-
est mutual complacency is always supposed a necessary ingre-
dient. To be thus joined to the Lord, and made as it were one
spirit with him; (1 Cor. 6. 17.) for the eternal God to cleave
in love to a nothing-creature, as his likeness upon it engages him
to do; is this no pleasure, or a mean one?
(2.) Communion: unto which that union is fundamental and
introductive; and which follows it upon the same ground, from
a natural propensity of like to like. There is nothing now to
hinder God and the holy soul of the most inward fruitions and
enjoyments; no animosity, no strangeness, no unsuitableness on
either part. Here the glorified spirits of the just have liberty
to solace themselves amidst the rivers of pleasure at God's own
right hand, without check or restraint. They are pure, and these
pure. They touch nothing that can defile, they defile nothing they
can touch. They are not now forbidden the nearest approaches
to the once inaccessable Majesty; there is no holy of holies into
which they may not enter, no door locked up against them.
They may have free admission into the innermost secret of the
divine presence, and pour forth themselves in the most liberal
effusions of love and joy: as they must be the eternal subject of
those infinitely richer communications from God, even of im-
mense and boundless love and goodness. Do not debase this
pleasure by low thoughts, nor frame too daring, positive appre-
hensions of it. It is yet a secret to us. The eternal converses
of the King of glory with glorified spirits, are only known to
himself and them. That expression (which we so often meet in
our way) "It doth not yet appear what we shall be," seems
left on purpose to check a too curious and prying inquisitiveness
into these unrevealed things. The great God will have his re-
serves of glory, of love, of pleasure for that future state. Let
him alone awhile, with those who are already received into those
mansions of glory, those everlasting habitations: he will find a
time for those that are yet pilgrims and wandering exiles, to as-
cend and enter too. In the mean time, what we know of this
!
100
THE BLESSEDNESS
communion may be gathered up into this general account, the re-
ciprocation of loves; the flowing and reflowing of everlasting
love, between the blessed soul and its infinitely blessed God; its
egress towards him, his illapses into it. Unto such pleasure doth
this likeness dispose and qualify you can no way consider it,
but it appears a most pleasurable, satisfying thing.
Thus far have we shown the qualification for this blessedness,
and the nature of it; What it prerequires, and wherein it lies:
and how highly congruous it is, that the former of these should
be made a prerequisite to the latter, will sufficiently appear to
any one that shall, in his own thoughts, compare this righteous-
ness and this blessedness together. He will indeed plainly see,
that the natural state of the case and habitude of these, each to
other, make this connexion unalterable and eternal; so as that
it must needs be simply impossible, to be thus blessed without
being thus righteous. For what is this righteousness other than
this blessedness began, the seed and principle of it? And that
with as exact proportion (or rather sameness of nature) as is be-
tween the grain sown and reaped; which is more than intimat-
ed in that of the apostle, Be not deceived, God is not mocked;
for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap: (Gal. 6.
7. 8.) For he that soweth, to his flesh, shall of the flesh reap
corruption; (there is the same proportion too) but he that sow-
eth to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting: which
though it be spoken to a peculiar case, is yet spoken from a gen-
eral rule and reason applicable a great deal further. And as
some conceive (and is undertaken to be demonstrated) that the
seeds of things are not virtually, and formally the very things
themselves: (Dr. Harv. de Ovo.) so is it here also. The very
parts of this blessedness are discernible in this righteousness, the
future vision of God in present knowledge of him: for this
knowledge is a real initial part of righteousness; the rectitude
of the mind and apprehensions concerning God, consisting in
conformity to his revelation of himself: present holiness, in-
cluding also the future assimilation to God: and the contentment
and peace that attends it, the consequent satisfaction in glory.
But as in glory, the impression of the divine likeness, is that
which vision subserves, and whence satisfaction results; so is it
here (visibly) the main thing also. The end and design of the
Gospel revelation, *of whole Christianity (I mean systemalically
considered,) of all Evangelical doctrines and knowledge, is to
restore God's likeness and image, from whence joy and peace
>
Tí
* Πως ο υν γινόμεθα καθ' ομοίωσιν; διά των ευαγγελίων.
ἐςι χριςιανισμός; θεό ομοίωσίς: κατα το ἐνδεχόμενον ανθρώπι
qu'os; how then are we made after the likeness of God? By the gospel
What is Christianity? The likeness of God, so far as the nature of man ad-
mits of it. Greg. Nyss. in verba Faciamus hominem, &c. Gregory Nyssen
on the words "Let us make man," &c. Orat. 1.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
101
result of course, when once the gospel is believed. The gospel
is the instrument of impressing God's likeness, in order where-
unto it must be understood, and received into the mind. Being
so, the impression upon the heart and life is Christianity, habitu-
al and practical, whereupon joy and pleasure (the belief or
thorough reception of the gospel thus intervening) do necessa-
rily ensue, Rom. 15. 13. So aptly is the only way or method of
seeing God's face, so as to be satisfied with his likeness, said to
be, in or through righteousness.
CHAPTER X.
Having considered the qualified subject, and the nature of this blessedness
we come now as proposed in head of chapter II. to consider, Thirdly.
The season of this satisfaction, which is twofold; at death, and at the re-
surrection. 1. The former spoken to ; wherein is shown, (1.) That this life is
to the soul (even of a saint) but as a sleep: (2.) That at death it awakes.
2. As to the latter; that there is a considerable accession to its happiness at
the resurrection.
Thirdly. The season of this blessedness, comes next to be con-
sidered; which (as the words "when I awake," have been con-
cluded here to import) must, in the general, be stated, beyond
the time of this present life. Holy souls are here truly blessed,
not perfectly; or their present blessedness is perfect only in na-
ture and kind, not in degree. It is, in this respect, as far short
of perfection as their holiness is. Their hunger and thirst are.
present, their being filled is yet future. The experience of saints.
in their best state on earth, their desires, their hopes, their sighs
and groans do sufficiently witness they are not satisfied; or if
they be in point of security, they are not in point of enjoyment,
The completion of this blessedness is reserved to a better state,
as its being the end of their way, their rest from their labors, the
reward of their work, (Matt. 5. 6.) doth import and require.
Therefore many scriptures that speak of their present rest, peace
repose, satisfaction, must be understood in a comparative, not the
absolute highest sense. More particularly, in that other state,
the season of their blessedness is twofold; or there are two terms
from whence (in respect of some gradual or modal diversifica-
tions) it may be said severally to commence, or bear date, name-
ly-The time of their entrance upon a blessed immortality, when
they shall have laid down their earthly bodies in death; and—of
their consummation therein when they receive their bodies glo-
rified, in the general resurrection. Both these may not unfitly
102
¡
THE BLESSEDNESS
be signified by the phrase in the text "when I awake :" For,
though Scripture doth more directly apply the term of awaking
to the latter, there will be no violence done to the metaphor, if
we extend its signification to the former also. To which purpose
it is to be noted, that it is not death formerly, or the disanimating
of the body, we would have here to be understood by it,
(which indeed sleeping would more aptly signify than awaking)
but, what is co-incident therewith in the same period, the exus-
citation, and revival of the soul. When the body falls asleep,
then doth the spirit awake; and the eye-lids of the morning,
even of an eternal day, do now first open upon it.
1. Therefore we shall not exclude from this season the intro-
ductive state of blessedness, which takes its beginning from the
blessed soul's first entrance into the invisible state. And the
fitness of admitting it will appear by clearing these two things—
that its condition in this life, even at the best, is in some sort but
asleep and that when it passes out of it into the invisible re-
gions, it is truly said to awake.
(1.) Its abode in this mortal body, is but a continual sleep ;
its senses are bound up; a drowsy slumber possesses and sus-
pends all its faculties and powers. Before the renovating change,
how frequently do the Scriptures speak of sinners as men asleep?
Let not us sleep as do others. Awake thou that sleepest, and
stand up from the dead, &c. (1. Thes. 5. 6. Eph. 5. 14.) They
are in a dead sleep, under the sleep of death; they apprehend
things as men asleep. How slight, obscure, hovering notions.
have they of the most momentous things! and which it most
concerns them to have thorough real apprehensions of! All their
thoughts of God, Christ, heaven, hell, of sin, of holiness, are but
uncertain, wild guesses, blind hallucinations, incoherent fancies;
the absurdity and inconcinnity whereof, they no more reflect
upon than men asleep. They know not these things, but only
dream of them. They put darkness for light, and light for dark-
ness; have no senses exercised to discern between good and
evil. The most substantial realties are with them mere shadows
and chimeras; fancied and imagined dangers startle them (as it
is wont to be with men in a dream) real ones, though never so
near them, they as little fear as they. The creature of their
own imagination, the lion in the way, which they dream of in
their slothful slumber, affrights them; but the real roaring lion
that is ready to devour them, they are not afraid of.
And conversion doth but relax, and intermit; it doth not to-
tally break off this sleep: it, as it were, attenuates the consop-
iting fumes, doth not utterly dispel them. What a difficulty is it
to watch but one hour? There are some lucid and vivid inter-
vals, but of how short continuance? how soon doth the awa-
kened soul close its heavy eyes and fall asleep again? how often
do temptations surprise even such, in their slumbering fits, while,
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
103
no sense of their danger can prevail with them to watch and
pray (with due care and constancy) lest they enter thereinto.
So well doth the apostle's watch-word suit our case, Awake to
righteousness, and sin not, &c. 1 Cor. 15. 34. we keep not our
spirits in a watchful considering posture. Our eyes, that should
be ever towards the Lord, will not be kept open, and though we
resolve, we forget ourselves; before we are aware, we find our-
selves overtaken; sleep comes on upon us like an armed man and
we cannot avert it. How often do we hear, and read, and pray,
and meditate as persons asleep, as if we knew not what we were
about? How remarkable useful providences escape either our
notice or due improvement, amidst our secure slumbers? How
many visits from Heaven are lost to us, when we are, as it were
between sleeping and waking, I sleep, but my heart waketh,
(Cant. 5. 2.) and hardly own the voice that calls upon us, till
our beloved hath withdrawn himself? Indeed, what is the whole
of our life here but a dream? the entire scene of this sensible
world but a vision of the night; where every man walks but in a
vain show? (Psal. 39. 6.) where we are mocked with shadows,
and our credulous sense abused by impostures and delusive ap-
pearances? Nor are we ever secure from the most destructive,
mischievous deception, further than as our souls are possessed
with the apprehensions, that this is the very truth of our case;
and thence instructed to consider, and not to prefer the shadows
of time before the great realities of eternity.
Nor is this sleep casual, but even connatural to our present
state, the necessary result of so strict a union and commerce
with the body; which is to the in-dwelling spirit, as a dormitory
or charnel-house rather than a mansion. A soul drenched in
sensuality (a Lethe that hath too little of fiction in it,) and im-
mured in a slothful, putrid flesh, sleeps as it were by fate not by
chance, and is only capable of full relief by suffering a dissolu-
tion; which it hath reason to welcome as a jubilee, and the in-
stant of departure to sacrifice as he did, *(with that easy and
warrantable change, to make a heathen expression scriptural)
Jehova liberatori, to adore and praise its great deliverer; at
least (accounts being once made up, and a meetness in any mea-
sure attained for the heavenly inheritance, &c.) hath no reason
to regret or dread the approaches of the eternal day, more than
we do the return of the sun after a dark and longsome night.
But, as the sluggard doth nothing more unwillingly than forsake
his bed, nor bears any thing with more regret, than to be awa-
ked out of his sweet sleep, though you should entice him with
the pleasures of a paradise to quit a smoky, loathsome cottage;
*Viz. Seneca. Who at the time of his death sprinkled water upon the serv-
ants about him, addita voce, se liquorem illum libare Jovi liberatori. Saying
at the same time he designed that water as a libation to Jove his deliverer.
Tacit. Annal.
104
THE BLESSEDNESS
of
so fares it with the sluggish soul, as if it were lodged in an en-
chanted bed: it is so fast held by the charms of the body, all
the glory of the other world is little enough to tempt it out, than
which there is not a more deplorable symptom of this sluggish
slumbering state, So deep an oblivion (which you know is also
naturally incident to sleep) hath seized it of its own country,
its alliances above, its relation to the Father and world of spi-
rits; it takes this earth for its home, where it is both in exile
and captivity at once: and (as a prince, stolen away in his in-
fancy, and bred up in a beggar's shed) so little seeks, that it de-
clines a better state. This is the degenerous, torpid disposition
of a soul lost in flesh, and inwrapt in stupifying clay; which hath
been deeply resented by some heathens. So one brings in So-
crates pathetically bewailing this oblivious dreaming of his soul,
"which (saith he) had seen that pulchritude (you must pardon
him here the conceit of its pre-existence) that neither human
voice could utter, nor eye behold, but that now, in this life, it
had only some little remembrance thereof, as in a dream; being
both in respect of place and condition, far removed from so plea-
sant sights, pressed down into an earthly station, and there en-
compassed with all manner of dirt and filthiness." &c. And to
the same purpose Plato often speaks in the name of the same
person and particularly of the winged state of the good soul,
(régwua. In Phædro.) when apart from the body, carried in its
triumphant flying chariot (of which he gives a large description,
somewhat resembling Solomon's rapturous metaphor, "Before I
was aware, my soul made me as the chariots of Amminadib ;”
(Cant. 6. 12.) but being in the body, it is with it as with a bird
that hath lost its wings, it falls a sluggish weight to the earth.
Which indeed is the state even of the best, in a degree, within
this tabernacle. A sleepy torpor stops their flight; they can fall,
but not ascend; the remains of such drowsiness do still hang
even about saints themselves. The apostle therefore calls upon
such, to wake out of sleep; (Rom. 13. 11.) from that considera-
tion (as we know men are not wont to sleep so intensely towards
morning) that now their salvation was nearer than when they
believed, that is (as some judicious interpreters understand that
place, Aretius, Beza, &c.) for that they were nearer death and
eternity, than when they first became christians, though this
passage be also otherwise, and not improbably, interpreted.
However.
(2.) The holy soul's release and dismission from its earthly
body, which is that we propounded next to be considered, will
excuss and shake off this drowsy sleep. Now is the happy sea-
son of its awaking into the heavenly, vital light of God; the
blessed morning of that long desired day is now dawned upon it;
the cumbersome night-vail is laid aside, and the garments of sal-
vation and immortal glory are now put on. It hath passed through
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
105
the trouble and darkness of a wearisome night, and now is joy
arrived with the morning, as we may be permitted to allude to
those words of the Psalmist, (Psal. 30. 5.) though that be not
supposed to be the peculiar sense. I conceive myself here not.
concerned operously to insist in proving, that the souls of saints
sleep not in the interval between death and the general resurrec-
tion, but enjoy present blessedness. It being besides the design
of a practical discourse, which rather intends the propounding and
improvement of things acknowledged and agreed, for the advan-
tage and benefit of them with whom they are so; than the dis-
cussing of things dubious and controversible. And what I here
propound in order to a consequent improvement and application,
should methinks pass for an acknowledged truth, among them
that professedly believe, and seriously read and consider the Bi-
ble, (for mere philosophers that do not come into this account, it
were impertinent to discourse with them from a text of Scrip-
ture) and where my design only obliges me to intend the hand-
ling of that, and to deliver from it what may fitly be supposed to
have its ground there; unless their allegations did carry with
them the shew of demonstrating the simple impossibility of what
is asserted thence to the power of that God whose word we take
it to be; which I have not found any thing they say to amount
to. That we have reason to presume it an acknowledged thing,
among them that will be concluded by Scripture,* That the soul
* It is true, that divers of the fathers and others have spoken, some dubi-
ously, some very diminishingly of the blessedness of separate souls; many
of those words may be seen together in that elaborate tractate of the learn-
ed Parker, de descens. lib. secund. p. 77. Yea, and his own assertion in that
very page (be it spoken with reverence to the memory of so worthy a per-
son) argues something gross, and I conceive, unwarrantable thoughts of the
soul's dependance on a body of earth. His words are, Tertium vulnus (speak-
ing of the prejudices the soul receives by its separation from the body) omnes
operationes etiam suas, quæ sunt præsertim ad extra, extinguit: the third wound
of the soul destroys all its operations especially those which are towards exter-
nal objects. Where he makes it a difficulty to allow it any operations at all,
as appears by the præsertim inserted. He first indeed denies it all operations
and then more confidently and especially, those ad extra. And if he would
be understood to exclude it only from its operations ad extra (if he take ope-
rations ad extra as that phrase is wont to be taken) he must then mean by it,
all such operations as have their objects, not only those that have their
terms to which without the agent, that is, not only all transient but all
immanent acts that have their objects without them. As when we say,
all God's acts ad extra are free; we mean it even of his immanent acts
that have their objects without him, though they do not ponere terminum
extra Deum: place their term out of God; as his election, his love of the
elect. And so he must be understood to deny the separate souls, (and
that with a præsertim too) the operations of knowing God, of loving him,
and delighting in him; which are all operations ad extra, as having their ob-
jects extra animam, though their terminus ad quem be not so; which makes
the condition of the separate souls of saints unspeakably inferior to what it
was in the body, and what should occasion so dismal thought of that state of
separation, I see not. Scripture gives no ground for them, but evidently
14
VOL. I.
106
THE BLESSEDNESS
doth not sleep when it ceases to animate its earthly body, many
plain texts do evince, which are amassed together by the rever-
end Mr. Baxter; in his Saint's Rest, p. 2. c. 10. some of the
principal whereof I would invite any that waver in this matter
seriously to consider: as the words of our Saviour to the thief
on the cross, This day shalt thou be with me in paradise. (Luke
23. 43.) That of the apostle, we are willing rather to be absent
from the body, and present with the Lord. (2. Cor. 5. 8.) And
that, I am in a straight, having a desire to depart, and to be
with Christ. (Phil. 1. 23.) that passage, the spirits of just men
made perfect, &c. (Heb. 12. 23.) Which are expressions so
clear, that it is hard for an industrious caviller to find what to ex-
cept to them; and indeed, the very exceptions that are put in,
are so frivolous, that they carry a plain confession there is noth-
ing colorable to be said. Yea, and most evident it is from those
texts; not only that holy souls sleep not, in that state of sepera-
tion; but that they are awaked by it (as out of a former sleep)
into a much more lively and vigorous activity than they enjoyed
before; and translated into a state, as much better than their
former, as the tortures of a cross are more ungrateful than the
pleasures of a paradise; these joys fuller of vitality, than those
sickly, dying, faintings; as the immediate presence, and close
embraces of the Lord of life are more delectable than a mourn-
ful disconsolate absence from him (which the apostle therefore
tells us he desired as far better, and with an emphasis which our
enough speaks the contrary. Reason and philosophy offer nothing, that can
render the sense we put upon the fore-mentioned plain scriptures, self-con-
tradictions or impossible. Yea, such as had no other light or guide, have
thought the facility of the soul's operations, being separate from its earthly
body, much greater by that very separation. And upon this score doth saint
Augustine, with great indignation, inveigh against the philosophers (Plato
more especially) because they judged the separation of the soul from the bo-
dy necessary to its blessedness. Quia videlicet ejus perfectam beatitudinem tunc
illi fieri existimant cum omni prorsus corpore exuta, ad Deum simplex, et sola et
quodammodo nuda redierit: because indeed they think that its perfect blessedness
takes place, when having completely put off the body, it returns in its simple, sepa-
rate, and as it were naked form to God. De civit. Dei l. 13. c. 16. unto which
purpose the words of Philolaus Pythagoricus, of Plato, of Porphyrius, are
cited by Ludovicus Vives, in his comment upon that abovementioned passage.
The first speaking thus, Deposito corpore hominem Deum immortalem fieri: that
when the body is laid down man becomes the immortal God. The second thus-
Trahi nos a corpore ad ima, et a cogitatione superarum rerum subinde revocari,
ideo relinquendum corpus, et hic quantum possumus et in altera vita prorsum, ut
liberi et expediti, verum ipsi videamus et optimum amemus: that we are borne
down by the body to the earth, and are continually recalled from the contemplation
of higher things: the body must therefore be relinquished as much as possible even
here, and altogether in another life, that free and unincumbered, we may discern
truth and love goodness. The third denies Aliter fieri beatum quenquam posse,
nisi relinquat corpus et effigatur Deo that any one can otherwise become happy,
but by relinquishing the body, and being absorbed in God. I conceive it by the
way not improbable, that the severity of that pious father against that dogma
of the philosophers, might proceed upon this ground, that what they said of
the impossibility of being happy in an earthly body, he understood meant by
:
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
107
English too faintly expresses; for he uses a double comparative
woλλ µêλλov xgeiorov by much more better :) and, as a perfected,
that is a crowned triumphant spirit, that hath attained the end of
its race (as the words import in the agonistical notion*) is now
in a more vivid joyous state, than when, lately, toiling in a tire-
some way, it languished under many imperfections. And it is
observable, that in the three former scriptures that phrase, of be-
ing with Christ, or, being present with him, is the same which
is used by the apostle, (1 Thes. 4. 17.) to express the state of
blessedness after the resurrection; intimating plainly, the same-
ness of the blessedness before and after. And though this phrase
be also used to signify the present enjoyment saints have of
God's gracious presence in this life (which is also in nature, and
kind the same;) yet it is plainly used in these scriptures (the
two latter more especially) to set out to us such a degree of that
blessedness, that in comparison thereof. our present being with
Christ is a not-being with him; our presence with him, now, an
absence from him: While we are at home in the body, we are
absent from the Lord, and, I am in a strait betwixt two, desiring
to depart (or having a desire unto dissolution) and to be with
Christ, &c. How strangely mistaken and disappointed had the
blessed apostle been, had his absence from the body, his disso-
lution, his release, set him further off from Christ, or made him
less capable of converse with him, than before he was? And how
them of an impossibility to be happy in any body at all; when it is evidently
the common opinion of the Platonists, that the soul is always united with
somebody or other, and that even the dæmons have bodies (aerial or ætherial
ones ;) which Plato himself is observed by St. Augustine to affirm whence he
would fasten a contradiction on him, ibid. not considering (it is likely) that he
would much less have made a difficulty, to concede such bodies also to hu-
man souls after they had lost their terrestrial ones, as his sectators do not;
who hold they then presently become dæmons. In the mean time it is
evident enough, the doctrine of the separate soul's present blessedness, is not
destitute of the patronage and suffrage of philosophers. And it is indeed
the known opinion of as many of them as ever held its immortality (which
all of all ages and nations have done, a very few excepted) for inasmuch as
they knew nothing of the resurrection of the body, they could not dream of
a sleeping interval. And it is at least a shrewd presumption that nothing in
reason lies against it, when no one instance can be given, among them that
professedly gave up themselves to its only guidance, of any one, that granting
the immortality of the soul, and its separableness from its terrestrial body,
ever denied the immediate blessedness of good souls in that state of separa-
tion. Nor (if we look into the thing itself) is it at all more unapprehensible
that the soul should be independent of the body in its operations than in its
existence? If it be possible enough to form an unexceptionable notion of a
spiritual being, distinct and separable from any corporeal substance (which
the learned Doctor More kath sufficiently demonstrated in his treatise of the
immortality of the soul) with its proper attributes, and powers peculiar to
itself; what can reasonably withhold me from asserting, that being sep-
arate from the body, it may as well operate alone, (I mean exert such opera-
tions as are proper to such a being) as exist alone? That we find it here, de
*See Dr. Hammond's annot. in. loc.
108
THE BLESSEDNESS
1
absurd would it be to say, the spirits of the just are perfected,
by being cast into a stupifying sleep; yea, or being put into any
state not better than they were in before? But their state is
evidently far better. The body of death is now laid aside, and
the weights of sin, that did so easily beset, are shaken off; flesh
and sin are laid down together; the soul is rid of its burthen-
some bands and shackles, hath quitted its filthy darksome prison
(the usual place of laziness and sloth,) is come forth of its
drowsy dormitory, and the glory of God is risen upon it. It is
now come into the world of realities, where things appear as
they are, no longer as in a dream, or vision of the night. The
vital quickening beams of divine light are darting in upon it on
every side, and turning it into their own likeness. The shadows
of the evening are vanished, and fled away. It converses with
no objects but what are full themselves, and most apt to replen-
ish it with energy and life. This cannot be but a joyful awak-
ing, blessed season of satisfaction and delight indeed, to the en-
lightened, revived soul. But,
2. It must be acknowledged, the further and more eminent
season of this blessedness will be the general resurrection-day,
which is more expressly signified in Scripture by this term of
awaking; as is manifest in many plain texts, where it is either
expressly thus used, or implied to have this meaning in the oppo-
site sense of the word sleep. Dan. 12. 2. John. 14. 12. 2 Cor.
facto, in fact, in its present state, acting only with dependance on a body, will
no more infer, that it can act no otherwise, than its present existence in a
body will that it can never exist out of it, neither whereof amounts to more
than the trifling exploded argument a non esse ad non posse, that because a thing
is not it cannot be, and would be as good sense as to say, such a one walks in
his clothes, therefore out of them he cannot move a foot. Yea, and the very
use itself which the soul now makes of corporeal organs and instruments,
plainly evidences, that it doth exert some action wherein they assist it not.
For it supposes an operation upon them antecedent to any operation by them.
Nothing can be the instrument which is not first the subject of my action; as
when I use a pen, I act upon it in order to my action by it, that is, I impress
a motion upon it, in order whereunto I use not that or any other such instru-
ment; and though I cannot produce the designed effect, leave such charac-
ters so and so figured, without it; my hand can yet, without it, perform its
own action, proper to itself, and produce many nobler effects. When there-
fore the soul makes use of a bodily organ, its action upon it must needs at
last be without the ministry of any organ, unless you multiply to it body upon
body in infinitum. And if possibly, it perform not some meaner and grosser
pieces of drudgery when out of the body, wherein it made use of its help
and service before; that is no more a disparagement or diminution, than it is
to the magistrate, that law and decency permit him not to apprehend or exe-
cute a malefactor with his own hand. It may yet perform those operations
which are proper to itself; that is, such as are more noble and excellent, and
immediately conducive to its own felicity. Which sort of actions, as cogita-
tion for instance, and dilection, though being done in the body, there is con-
junct with them an agitation of the spirits in the brain and heart; it yet
scems to me more reasonable, than as to those acts, the spirits are rather sub-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
109
15. 2 Thes. 4. &c. What additions shall then be made to the
saints' blessedness, lies more remote from our apprehension; in
as much as Scripture states not the degree of that blessedness
which shall intervene. We know, by a too sad instructive ex-
perience, the calamities of our present state, and can therefore
more easily conceive, wherein it is capable of betterment, by
the deposition of a sluggish, cumbersome body, where those ca-
lamities mostly have their spring: but then we know less where
to fix our foot, or whence to take our rise, in estimating the ad-
ditional felicities of that future state, when both the states to be
compared are so unknown to us. But that there will be great
additions is plain enough. The full recompense of obedience,
and devotedness to Christ, of foregoing all for him, is affixed by
his promise to the resurrection of the just; The judgment-day
gives every one his portion according to his works. Then must
the holy, obedient christian hear from his Redeemer's mouth,
Come ye blessed of the Father, inherit the kingdom, &c. Till
then the devils think their torment to be before their time. It
is when he shall appear we shall be like him, and see him as he
is. That noted day is the day of being presented faultless with
jects than instruments at all of them; that the whole esence of these acts is
antecedent to the motion of the spirits; and that motion certainly (but acci-
dently) consequent, only by reason of the present, but soluble union the soul
hath with the body. And that the purity and refinedness of those spirits
doth only remove what would hinder such acts, rather than contribute posi-
itively thereto. And so little is the alliance between a thought, and any bo-
dily thing, even those very finest spirits themselves; that I dare say, whoever
sets himself closely and strictly to consider and debate the matter with his
own faculties, will find it much more easily apprehensible, how the acts of
intellection and volition may be performed without those very corporeal spi-
rits than by them. However suppose them never so indispensibly necessary
to those more noble operations of the soul, it may easily be furnished with
them, and in greater plenty and purity, from the ambient air, (or æther) than
from a dull torpid body; with some part of which air, if we suppose it to
contract a vital union, I know no rational principle that is wronged by the
supposition, though neither do I know any that can necessarily infer it. As
therefore the doctrine of the soul's activity out of his earthly body, hath fa-
vor and friendship enough from philosophers; so I doubt not, but upon the
most strict and rigid disquisition, it would be as much befriended (or rather
righted) by philosophy itself; and that their reason would afford it as direct
and more considerable defence than their authority.
In the mean time, it deserves to be considered with some resentment, that
this doctrine should find the generality of learned pagans more forward ad-
vocates than some learned and worthy patrons of the Christian faith; which
is only imputable to the undue measure and excess of an, otherwise, just zeal,
in these latter, for the resurrection of the body; so far transporting them, that
they became willing to let go one truth, that they might hold auother the
faster; and to ransom this at the too dear (and unnecessary) expence of the
former accounting, they could never make sure enough the resurrection of
the body, without making the soul's dependance on it so absolute and neces-
sary, that it should be able to do nothing but sleep in the mean while Whereas
it seems a great deal more unconceivable, how such a being as the soul is,
once quit of the entanglements and encumbrances of the body, should sleep
at all, than how it should act without the body.
110
THE BLESSEDNESS
exceeding joy. And divers things there are obviously enough
to be reflected on, which cannot but be understood to contribute
much to the increase and improvement of this inchoate blessed-
ness. The acquisition of a glorified body. For our vile bodies
shall be so far transfigured, as to be made like [conform to] the
glorious body of the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ: (peraoxn-
pasice, dúμpogpov. Phil. 3. 20. 21.) And this shall be when he
shall appear from heaven, where saints here below are required to
have their commerce, as the enfranchised citizens thereof, and
from whence they are to continue, looking for him in the mean
time. When he terminates and puts a period to that expectation
of his saints on earth, then shall that great change be made, that
is, when he actually appears, at which time the trumpet sounds,
and even sleeping dust itself awakes; (1 Thes. 4. 14. 15. 16.)
the hallowed dust of them that slept in Jesus first, who are then
to come with him. This change may well be conceived to add
considerably to their felicity. A natural congruity and appetite
is now answered and satisfied, which did either lie dormant, or
was under somewhat an anxious restless expectation before;
neither of which could well consist with a state of blessedness,
every-way already perfect. And that there is a real desire and
expectation of this change, seems to be plainly intimated in those
words of Job, All the days of my appointed time will I wait till
my change come: (chap. 14. 14.) Where he must rather be un-
derstood to speak of the resurrection than of death (as his words
are commonly mistaken, and misapplied;) as will appear by set-
ting down the context from the seventh verse, for there is hope
of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the
tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof
wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground:
yet through the scent of water, it will bud and bring forth boughs
like a plant. But man dieth and wasteth away; yea, man giveth
up the ghost, and where is he? As the waters fail from the sea,
and the flood decayeth, and dryeth up; so man lieth down, and
riseth not till the heavens be no more: they shall not be awaked
nor raised out of their sleep. O that thou wouldest hide me in
the grave, that thou wouldest keep me secret till thy wrath be
past, that thou wouldest appoint me a set time, and remember
me! If a man die, shall he live again? All the days of my ap-
pointed time will I wait till my change come. Thou shalt call,
and I will answer thee; thou wilt have a desire to the work of
thy hands. He first speaks according to common apprehension,
and sensible appearance, touching the hopeless state of man in
death; as though it were less capable of reparation than that of
some inferior creatures, unto the end of ver. 10. And then
gradually discovers his better hope; betrays this faith, as it were
obliquely, touching this point; lets it break out, first, in some
obscure glimmerings, (ver. 11. 12) giving us, in his protasis, a
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
111
similitude not fully expressive of his seeming meaning, for wa-
ters and floods that fail may be renewed; and in his Apodosis
more openly intimating, man's sleep should be only till the heav-
ens were no more: which till might be supposed to signify never,
were it not for what follows, ver. 13. where he expressly speaks
his confidence by way of petition, that at a set and appointed time,
God would remember him, so as to call him out of the grave:
and at last, being now minded to speak out more fully, puts the
question to himself, If a man die, shall he live again? and an-
swers it, All the days of my appointed time, that is of that ap-
pointed time which he mentioned before, when God should re-
vive him out of the dust; will I wait till my change come; that
is, that glorious change, when the corruption of a loathsome
grave should be exchanged for immortal glory; which he ampli-
fies, and utters more expressly, ver. 15. Thou shalt call, and I
will answer; thou shalt have a desire to the work of thy hands:
Thou wilt not always forget to restore and perfect thy own
creature.
And surely that waiting is not the act of his inanimate sleep-
ing dust; but though it be spoken of the person totally gone in-
to hades, into the invisible state; it is to be understood of that
part that should be capable of such an action; as though he had
said I, in that part that shall be still alive, shall patiently await
thy appointed time of reviving me in that part also, which death
and the grave shall insult over (in a temporary triumph) in the
mean time; and so will the words carry a facile, commodious
sense, without the unnecessary help of an imagined rhetorical
scheme of speech. And then, that this waiting carries in it a
desirous expectation of some additional good, is evident at first
sight; which therefore must needs add to the satisfaction and
blessedness of the expecting soul. And wherein it may do so,
is not altogether unapprehensible. Admit that a spirit, had it
never been embodied, might be as well without a body, or that
it might be as well provided of a body out of other materials;
it is no unreasonable supposition, that a connate aptitude to a
body, should render human souls more happy in a body sufficient-
ly attempered to their most noble operations. And how much
doth relation and propriety endear things, otherwise mean and
inconsiderable? or why should it be thought strange, that a soul
connaturalized to matter, should be more particularly inclined to
a particular portion thereof? so as that it should appropriate such
a part, and say it is mine? And will it not be a pleasure, to have
a vitality diffused through what even more remotely appertains
to me, have every thing belonging to the suppositum perfectly
vindicated from the tyrannous dominion of death? The returning
of the spirits into a benumbed or sleeping toe or finger, adds a
contentment to a man which he wanted before. Nor is it hence
necessary the soul should covet a re-union with every effluvious
- ."
112
THE BLESSEDNESS
particle of its former body: a desire implanted by God in a rea-
sonable soul will aim at what is convenient, not what shall be
cumbersome or monstrous. And how pleasant will it be to con-
template and admire the wisdom and power of the great Creator
in this so glorious a change, when I shall find a clod of earth, a
heap of dust, refined into a celestial purity and brightness? when
what was sown in corruption shall be raised in incorruption;
what was sown in dishonor, is raised in glory; what was sown
in weakness, is raised in power; what was sown a natural body,
is raised a spiritual body? when this corruptible shall have put
on incorruption, and this mortal, immortality, and death be whol-
ly swallowed up in victory? So that this awakening may well be
understood to carry that in it, which may bespeak it the proper
season of the saints' consummate satisfaction and blesssedness.
But besides what it carries in itself, there are other (more ex-
trinsical) concurrents that do further signalize this season, and
import a greater increase of blessedness then to God's holy ones.
The body of Christ is now completed, the fulness of him that
filleth all in all, and all the so nearly related parts cannot but par-
take in the perfection and reflected glory of the whole. There
is joy in heaven at the conversion of a sinner though he have a
troublesome scene yet to pass over afterwards, in a tempting,
wicked, unquiet world; how much more when the many sons
shall be all brought to glory together? The designs are all now
accomplished, and wound up into the most glorious result and
issue, whereof the divine providence had been, as in travail, for
so many thousand years. It is now seen how exquisite wisdom
governed the world, and how steady a tendency the most intri-
cate and perplexed methods of providence had, to one stated and
most worthy end. Especially the constitution, administration,
and ends of the Mediator's kingdom, are now beheld in their
exact aptitudes, order and conspicuous glory; when so blessed
an issue and success shall command and crown the whole under-
taking. The divine authority is now universally acknowledged
and adored; his justice is vindicated and satisfied; his grace de-
The whole assem-
monstrated and magnified to the uttermost.
bly of saints solemnly acquitted by public sentence, presented
spotless and without blemish to God, and adjudged to eternal
blessedness. It is the day of solemn triumph and jubilation,
upon the finishing of all God's works, from the creation of the
world, wherein the Lord Jesus appears to be glorified in his saints,
and admired in all that believe: (2 Thes. 1. 10.) upon which
ensues the resignation of the Mediator's kingdom (all the ends
of it being now attained) that the Father himself may be imme-
diately all in all. 1 Cor. 15. 28. How aptly then are the fuller
manifestations of God, the more glorious display of all his attri-
butes, the larger and more abundant effusions of himself, reserv-
ed (as the best wine to the last) unto this joyful day! Created
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
113
perfections could not have been before so absolute, but they
might admit of improvement; their capacities not so large, but
they might be extended further; and then who can doubt but
that divine communications may also have a proportionable in-
crease, and that upon the concourse of so many great occasions.
they shall have so?
CHAPTER XI.
I. An introduction to the use of the doctrine hitherto proposed. II. The use
divided into. First. Inferences of truth. Secondly. Rules of duty. 1.
Inference, That blessedness consists not in any sensual enjoyment. 2. In-
ference. The spirit of man (since it is capable of so high a blessedness) is
a being of high excellency.
I. And now is our greatest work yet behind; the improvement
of so momentous a truth, to the affecting and transforming of hearts:
that (if the Lord shall so far vouchsafe his assistance and bless-
ing) they may taste the sweetness, feel the power, and bear the
impress and image of it. This is the work, both of greatest ne-
cessity, difficulty, and excellency, and unto which, all that hath
been done hitherto, is but subservient and introductive. Give
me leave therefore, reader, to stop thee here, and demand of
thee before thou go further; Hast thou any design in turning
over these leaves, of bettering thy spirit, of getting a more re-
fined, heavenly temper of soul? art thou weary of thy dross and
earth, and longing for the first fruits, the beginnings of glory?
dost thou wish for a soul meet for the blessedness hitherto de-
scribed? what is here written is designed for thy help and further-
ance. *But if thou art looking on these pages with a wanton,
rolling eye, hunting for novelties, or what may gratify a prurient
wit, a coy and squeamish fancy; go read a romance, or some
piece of drollery; know here is nothing for thy turn; and dread
to meddle with matters of everlasting concernment without a se-
rious spirit; read not another line till thou have sighed out this
request, "Lord keep me from trifling with the things of eterni-
ty." Charge thy soul to consider, that what thou art now read-
ing must be added to thy account against the great day. It is
amazing to think, with what vanity of mind the most weighty
things of religion are entertained amongst christians. Things
*Dissoluti est pectoris in rebus scriis quærere voluptatem. It is a mark of
a trifling mind to seek amusement in serious things. Arnob.
VOL. I.
15
114
one.
THE BLESSEDNESS
that should swallow up our souls, drink up our spirits, are heard
as a tale that is told, disregarded by most, scorned by too many.
What can be spoken so important, or of so tremendous conse-
quence, or of so confessed truth, or with so awful solemnity and
premised mention of the sacred name of the Lord, as not to find
either a very slight entertainment or contemptuous rejection;
and this by persons avowing themselves christians? We seem
to have little or no advantage, in urging men upon their own
principles, and with things they most readily and professedly as-
sent to. Their hearts are as much untouched, and void of im-
pression by the Christian doctrine, as if they were of another
religion. How unlike is the Christian world to the Christian
doctrine? The seal is fair and excellent, but the impression is
languid, or not visible. Where is that serious godliness, that
heavenliness, that purity, that spirituality, that righteousness,that
peace, unto which the Christian religion is most aptly designed
to work and form the spirits of men? We think to be saved by
an empty name; and glory in the shew and appearance of that,
the life and power whereof we hate and deride. It is a reproach
with us not to be called a christian, and a greater reproach to be
If such and such doctrines obtain not in our professed be-
lief, we are heretics or infidels; if they do in our practice, we
are precisians and fools. To be so serious, and circumspect, and
strict, and holy, to make the practice of godliness so much our
business, as the known and avowed principles of our religion do
plainly exact from us (yea, though we come, as we cannot but do,
unspeakably short of that required measure) is to make one's
self a common derision and scorn. Not to be professedly reli-
gious is barbarous, to be so in good earnest ridiculous. In other
things men are wont to act and practice according to the known
rules of their several callings and professions, and he would be
reckoned the common fool of the neighborhood that should not
do so the husbandman that should sow when others reap, or
contrive his harvest into the depth of winter, or sow fitches, and
expect to reap wheat; the merchant that should venture abroad
his most precious commodities in a leaky bottom, without pilot or
compass, or to places not likely to afford him any valuable re-
turn. In religion only it must be accounted absurd, to be and do
according to its known agreed principles, and he a fool that shall
but practice as all about him profess to believe. Lord! whence
is this apprehended inconsistency between the profession and
practice of religion? what hath thus stupified and unmanned the
world, that seriousness in religion should be thought the character
of a fool? that men must visibly make a mockery of the most fun-
damental articles of faith only to save their reputation, and be
afraid to be serious, lest they should be thought mad! Were
the doctrine here opened, believed in earnest, were the due
proper impress of it upon our spirits, or (as the pagan moralist's
:
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
115
:
and
*expression is) were our minds transfigured into it; what man-
ner of persons should we be in all holy conversation and godli-
ness? But it is thought enough to have it in our creed, though
never in our hearts and such as will not deride the holiness it
should produce, yet endeavor it not, nor go about to apply and
urge truths upon their own souls to any such purpose. What
should turn into grace and spirit and life, turns all into notion and
talk; and men think all is well, if their heads be filled, and their
tongues tipt, with what should transform their souls, govern
their lives. How are the most awful truths, and that should have
greatest power upon men's spirits, trifled with as matters only of
speculation and discourse! They are heard but as empty, airy
words and presently evaporate, pass away into words again; like
food, as Seneca speaks, Non prodest cibus, nec corpori accedit,
qui statim sumptus emittitur: that comes up presently, the same
that it was taken in; which (as he saith) profits not, nor makes
any accession to the body at all. Sen. Epist. A like case (as
another ingeniously speaks,) Ἐπεὶ καὶ τὰ πρόβατα, ἐ χόρτον φέροντα
τοῖς ποίμεσιν ἐπιδεικνεύει πόσον ἔφαγεν, ἀλλὰ τὴν νόμην ἔσω πέψαντα, έριον ἔξω φέρει
καὶ γάλα· καὶ σὺ τοίνυν, μὴ ταχέως ῥήματα τοῖς ἰδιωταῖς ἑπιδείκνευε, ἀλλὰ ἀπ' αὐτῶν
TEQbéνTOV Tà Égya : as if sheep when they had been feeding, should pre-
sent their shepherds with the very grass itself which they have
cropt, and shew how much they had eaten. No, saith he, they con-
coct it, and so yield them wool and milk. Epietet. And so,
saith he, do not you (namely when you have been instructed)
presently go and utter words among the more ignorant (meaning
they should not do so in a way of ostentation, to shew how much
they knew more than others) "but works that follow upon the
concoction of what hath been by words made known to them."
Let christians be ashamed that they need this instruction from
heathen teachers.
Thy words were found, and I did eat them (saith the pro-
phet,) and thy word was to me the joy and rejoicing of my
heart. Divine truth is only so far at present grateful or useful
for future, as it is received by faith and consideration, and in the
love thereof into the very heart, and there turned in succum et
sanguinem into real nutriment to the soul: so shall man live
by the word of God. Hence is the application of it (both per-
sonal and ministerial) of so great necessity. If the truths of
the gospel were of the same alloy with some parts of philosophy
whose end is attained as soon as they are known; if the Scrip-
ture-doctrine (the whole entire system of it) were not a doctrine
after godliness; if it were not designed to sanctify and make
men holy; or if the hearts of men did not reluctate, were easily
*Scientiam qui didicit, et facienda et vitanda præcepit, nondum sapiens est,
nisi in ca quæ didicit transfiguratus est animus. Though a man have learned
moral science and may teach what is to be done, and what is to be avoided,
yet he is not a wise man unless his mind is transfigured into his doctrine.
1
116
THE BLESSEDNESS
receptive of its impressions; our work were as soon done, as
such a doctrine were nakedly proposed: but the state of the
case in these respects is known and evident. The tenor and
aspect of gospel truth speaks its end; and experience too plainly
speaks the oppositeness of men's spirits. All therefore we read
and hear is lost if it be not urgently applied: the Lord grant it
be not then too. Therefore, reader, let thy mind and heart con-
cur in the following improvement of this doctrine, which will be
wholly comprehended under these two heads. Inferences of
truth, and rules of duty that are consequent and connatural
thereto.
First. Inferences of truth deducible from it.
1. True blessedness consists not in any sensual enjoyment.
The blessedness of a man can be but one; most only one. He
can have but one highest and best good. And its proper charac-
ter is, that it finally satisfies and gives rest to his spirit. This
the face and likeness of God doth; his glory beheld and partici-
pated. Here then alone his full blessedness must be understood
to lie. Therefore as this might many other ways be evinced to
be true; so it evidently appears to be the proper issue of the
present truth, and is plainly proved by it. But alas! it needs a
great deal more to be pressed than proved. O that it were but
as much considered as it is known! The experience of almost
six thousand years, hath (one would think sufficiently) testified
the incompetency of every worldly thing to make men happy ;
that the present pleasing of our senses, and the gratification of
our animal part is not blessedness; that men are still left unsat-
isfied notwithstanding. But the practice and course of the world
are such, as if this were some late and rare experiment; which
(for curiosity) every one must be trying over again. Every age
renews the enquiry after an earthly felicity; the design is en-
tailed (as the Spanish designs are said to be,) and re-inforced
with as great confidence and vigor from age to age, as if none
had been baffled or defeated in it before; or that it were likely
to take at last. Had this been the alone folly of the first age, it
had admitted some excuse; but that the world should still be
cheated by the same so often repeated impostures, presents us
with a sad prospect of the deplorable state of mankind. This
their way is their folly, yet their posterity approve, &c. Psal. 49.
The wearied wits and wasted estates, laid out upon the phi-
losopher's stone, afford but a faint, defective representation of
this case.
What chemistry can extract heaven out of a clod of
clay? What art can make blessedness spring and grow out of
this cold earth? If all created nature be vexed and tortured
never so long, who can expect this elixir? Yet after so many
frustrated attempts, so much time and strength, and labor lost,
men are still as eagerly and vainly busy as ever; are perpetually
tossed by unsatisfied desires, laboring in the fire, wearying them-
13.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
117
selves for very vanity, distracted by the uncertain, and often con-
trary motions of a ravenous appetite, and a blind mind, that would
be happy, and knows not how. With what sounding bowels,
with what compassionate tears should the state of mankind be
lamented, by all that understand the worth of a soul? What se-
rious heart doth not melt and bleed for miserable men, that are
(through a just nemesis*) so perpetually mocked with shadows,
cheated with false, delusive appearances, infatuated and betrayed
by their own senses. They walk but in a vain shew, disquieting
themselves in vain; their days flee away as a shadow, their
strength is only labor and sorrow; while they rise up early and
lie down late, to seek rest in trouble and life in death. They
run away from blessedness while they pretend to pursue it, and
suffer themselves to be led down without regret to perdition,
as an ox to the slaughter, and a fool to the correction of the
stocks, till a dart strike through their liver :" descend patiently
to the chambers of death, not so much as once thinking, whither
are we going? dream of nothing but an earthly paradise, till
they find themselves amidst the infernal regions.
2. The spirit of man, inasmuch as it is capable of such a †bless-
edness, appears an excellent creature. Its natural capacity is
supposed; for the psalmist speaks of his own numerical person,
the same that then writ; I shall behold; shall be satisfied; take
away this suppositum, and it could not be so said; or as in Job's
words; I shall behold him, and not another for me; it would
certainly be another, not the same. Judge hence the excellency
of a human soul (the principal subject of this blessedness) with-
out addition of any new natural powers, it is capable of the vis-
ion of God; of partaking unto satisfaction the divine likeness.
And is not that an excellent creature, that is capable not only
of surveying the creation of God, passing through the several
ranks and orders of created beings; but of ascending to the Be-
ing of beings, of contemplating the divine excellencies, of be-
holding the bright and glorious face of the blessed God himself;
till it have looked itself into his very likeness, and have his en-
* Ira Dei est ista vita mortalis, ubi homo vanitati factus est, et dies ejus velut
umbra prætereunt, &c. The wrath of God is shewn in this mortal life, where-
in man is made like to vanity and his days pass away as a shadow. Aug. de
Civ. Dei. 1. 22. c. 24.
Not that this blessedness can be attained by mere human endeavors, (more
whereof see under the next inference) but there is an inclination, a certain pon-
dus naturæ ; a weight of nature (as some schoolmen speak) by which it propends
towards it; or there is the radix, root or fundamentum, foundation, or capacit-
as, capacity, (as some others) that is that it not only may receive it; but that it
may be elevated by grace, actively to concur, by its natural powers, as vital
principles towards the attainment of it, according to that known saying of
saint Augustine, Posse credere naturæ est hominis, the power of believing is na-
tural to man, &c.
118
THE BLESSEDNESS
tire image inwrought into it. The dignity then of the spirit of
man is not to be estimated by the circumstances of its present
state, as it is here clad with a sordid flesh, inwrapped in dark-
ness, and grovelling in the dust of the earth: but consider the
improveableness of its natural powers and faculties; the high
perfections it may attain, and the foundations of how glorious a
state are laid in its very nature. And then who can tell, whether
its possible advancement is more to be admired, or its present
calamity deplored. Might this consideration be permitted to set-
tle and fix itself in the hearts of men could any thing be so
grievous to them, as their so vast distance from such an at-
tainable blessedness; or any thing be so industriously avoid-
ed, so earnestly abhorred, as that viler dejection and abase-
ment of themselves, when they are so low already by divine
disposition, to descend lower by their own wickedness; when they
are already fallen as low as earth, to precipitate themselves as low
as hell. How generous a disdain should that thought raise in men's
spirits, of that vile servitude to which they have subjected them-
selves, a servitude to brutal lusts, to sensual inclinations and de-
sires; as if the highest happiness they did project to themselves
were the satisfaction of these! Would they not with a heroic scorn
turn away their eyes from beholding vanity, did they consider their
own capacity of beholding the divine glory? could they satisfy
themselves to become *like the beasts that perish, did they
think of being satisfied with the likeness of God? And who can
conceive unto what degree this aggravates the sin of man, that
he so little minds (as it will their misery, that shall fall short of)
this blessedness! They had spirits capable of it. Consider thou
sensual man whose happiness lies in colors, and tastes, and sounds,
(as the moralist ingeniously speaks) that herdest thyself with
brute creatures, and aimest no higher than they as little look-
est up, and art as much a stranger to the thoughts and desires
of heaven; thy creation did not see thee so low; they are
where they were; but thou are fallen from thy excellency. God
did not make thee a brute creature, but thou thyself. Thou hast
yet a spirit about thee, that might understand its own original,
and alliance to the Father of spirits; that hath a designation in
its nature to higher converses and employments. Many myriads
of such spirits, of no higher original excellency than thy own,
are now in the presence of the highest Majesty; are prying into
the eternal glory, contemplating the perfections of the divine na-
•* Voluptas bonum pecoris est-Hunc tu (non dico inter viros sed) inter
homines numeras? cujus summum bonum saporibus, ac coloribus, ac souis
constat? cxcedat ex hoc animalium numero pulcherrimo, ac diis secundo;
mutis aggregetur animal pabulo natum. Pleasure is the good of beasts-Do
you number such a creature (I will not say among men but) among human
beings whose chief good consists in tastes and colors and sounds! Let him
quit this class of the animate creation which is the fairest and next to God
himself. Let an animal made only for foddering herd with the brutes, &c.
Sen. Ep. 92.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
119
ture, beholding the unvailed face of God, which transfuses upon
them its own satisfying likeness. Thou art not so low-born, but
thou mightest attain this state also. That sovereign Lord and
Author of all things, calls thee to it; his goodness invites the e,
his authority enjoins thee to turn thy thoughts and designs this
way. Fear not to be thought immodest or presumptuous; *it is
but a dutiful ambition; and obedient aspiring. Thou art under
a law to be thus happy; nor doth it bind thee to any natural im-
possibility; it designs instructions to thee, not delusion; guid-
ance, not mockery. When thou art required to apply and turn
thy soul to this blessedness; it is not the same thing, as if thou
wert bidden to remove a mountain, to pluck down a star, or cre-
ate a world. Thou art here put upon nothing but what is agreea-
ble to the primeval nature of man; and though it be to a vast
height, thou must ascend; it is by so easy and familiar methods,
by so apt gradations, that thou wilt be sensible of no violence
done to thy nature in all thy way. Do but make some trials with
thyself; thou wilt soon find nothing is the hindrance but an un-
willing heart. Try however (which will suffice to let thee dis-
cern thy own capacity, and will be a likely means to make thee
willing) how far thou canst understand and trace the way (com-
plying with it at least as reasonable) that leads to this blessedness.
Retire a little into thyself; forget awhile thy relation to this sen-
sible world; summon in thy self-reflecting and considering pow-
ers thou wilt presently perceive thou art not already happy,
thou art in some part unsatisfied: and thence wilt easily under-
stand, inasmuch as thou art not happy in thyself, that it must be
something, as yet without thee, must make thee so and nothing
can make thee happy, but what is in that respect better than thy-
self; or hath some perfection in it, which thou findest wanting
in thyself. A little further discourse or reasoning with thyself,
will easily persuade thee, thou hast something better about thee
than that luggage of flesh thou goest with to and fro; for thou
well knowest, that fis not capable of reason and discourse; and
that the power of doing so is a higher perfection than any thou
canst entitle it to; and that therefore, besides thy bulky, materi-
* Hic Deos æquat, illo tendit, originis suæ memor. Nemo, improbe, eo
conatur ascendere unde descenderat socii eis sumus et membra, &c. This
man emulates the gods-mindful of his origin, he tends towards it. No one
is wicked in attempting to ascend thither from whence he had descended—
we are their companions and their fellow members. Sen. Ep. 92.
=
ว
>
ว
† Λογισμός δε και νές, εκέτι ταύτα σωματι δίδωσιν αυτά, και γαρ
το έργον αυτων & δι οργάνων τελεῖται τὸ σώματος· ἐμπόδιον τετο
ἑιτις αὐτῷ ἐν ταῖς σκέψεσι προχρωτω: Reason and intellect are not the na
tural powers or endowments of the body, for indeed their exercise is not per-
formed in perfection by means of its organs; it is rather found an impediment
than otherwise, if any one endeavor to employ it in intellectual contemplation.
Plotin. Enead 4. lib. 3.
120
THE BLESSEDNESS
al part, thou must have such a thing as a spirit or soul belong-
ing to thee to which, that and thy other perfections, not com-
patible to gross matter, may agree. Thou wilt readily assent,
that thou canst never be happy, while thy better and more noble
part is unsatisfied; and that it can only be satisfied with some-
thing suitable and connatural to it. That therefore thy happi-
ness must lie in something more excellent than this material or
sensible world, otherwise it cannot be grateful and suitable to
thy soul, yea, in something that may be better, and more excel-
lent than thy soul itself, otherwise how can it better and perfect
that. As thou canst not but acknowledge thy soul to be the
spiritual and immaterial, so if thou attend thou wilt soon see
cause to acknowledge a spiritual or immaterial being, better and
more perfect than thy own soul. For its perfections were not
self-originate, they were therefore derived from something, for
that reason confessedly more excellent; whence at last also thou
wilt find it unavoidably imposed upon thee, to apprehend and
adore a Being absolutely perfect, and than which there can-
not be a more perfect; the first subject and common fountain of
all perfections, which hath then underived in himself, and can
derive them unto inferior created beings. Upon this eternal
and self-essential Being, the infinitely blessed God, thou neces-
sarily dependest, and owest therefore constant subjection and
obedience to him. Thou hast indeed offended him, and art there-
by cut off from all interest in him, and intercourse with him; but
he hath proclaimed in his gospel, his willingness to be reconciled
and that through the sufferings, righteousness, and intercession
of his only begotten Son, thy merciful Redeemer, the way is
open for thy restitution and recovery; that thou mayst partake
from him whatever perfection is wanting to thy blessedness.
Nothing is required from thee in order hereunto, but that rely-
ing on and submitting to thy Redeemer's gracious conduct, thou
turn thy mind and heart towards thy God, to know him, and
conform to him; to view and imitate the divine perfections; the
* Sicut non est a carne, sed super carnem, quod carnem facit vivere: sic
non est ab homine, sed super hominem, quod hominem facit beate vivere: as
that which gives life to the flesh is not any thing proceeding from the flesh,
but above it, so that is not from man, but above him which endows him with
a life of happiness. D. Aug. de Divit. Dei. lib. 19. c. 25.
:
†Ut in ordine causarum efficientum, ita et in 'gradibus virtutis et perfection-
is, non datur progressus in infinitum: sed oportet sit aliqua prima et summa
perfectio as in the order of efficient causes so likewise in the degrees of
virtue and perfection there cannot be an infinite progression; but there must
be some primary and supreme perfection. Pet. Molin de cognitione Dei. Not
to insist upon what hath been much urged by learned men of former and lat-
ter, yea, and of the present time-that whosoever denies the existence of an
absolutely perfect being, contradicts himself in the denial, inasmuch as ne-
cessity of existence is included in the very subject of the negation some ac-
counting it a sophism, and it being unseasonable here to discuss it.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
121
faithful endeavor and inchoation whereof, will have this issue
and reward, the clear vision and full participation of them. So
that thy way and work differ not, in nature and kind, from thy
end and reward; thy duty from thy blessedness. Nor are ei-
ther repugnant to the natural constitution of thy own soul. What
violence is there done to reasonable nature in all this? or what
can hinder thee herein, but a most culpably averse and wicked
heart? Did thy reason ever turn off thy soul from God? was
it not thy corruption only? What vile images dost thou receive
from earthly objects, which deform thy soul, while thou industri-
ously avertest thy Maker's likeness that would perfect it? How
full is thy mind and heart of vanity! how empty of God! Were
this through natural incapacity, thou wert an innocent creature;
it were thy infelicity (negative I mean) not thy crime; and must
be resolved into the sovereign will of thy Creator, not thy own
disobedient will. But when this shall appear the true state of
thy case, and thou shalt hear it from the mouth of thy Judge,
"Thou didst not like to retain me in thy knowledge or love;
thou had reason and will to use about meaner objects, but none
for me; thou couldst sometimes have spared me a glance, a cast
of thine eye at least, when thou didst rather choose it should be
in the ends of the earth a thought of me had cost thee as little,
might as soon have been thought, as of this or that vanity; but
thy heart was not with me. I banish thee, therefore, that pre-
sence which thou never lovedst. I deny thee the vision thou
didst always shun, and the impression of my likeness which thou
didst ever hate. I eternally abandon thee to the darkness and
deformities which were ever grateful to thee. Thine is a self-
created hell; the fruit of thy own choice; no invitations or per-
suasions of mind could keep thee from it." How wilt thou ex-
cuse thy fault, or avert thy doom! what arguments or apologies
shall defend thy cause against these pleadings ? Nay, what armor
shall defend thy soul against its own wounding self-reflections
hereupon when every thought shall be a dart; and a convicted
conscience, an ever-gnawing worm, a fiery serpent with endless
involutions ever winding about thy heart?
It will now be sadly thought on, how often thou sawest thy
way and declinedst it, knewest thy duty and didst wave it; un-
derstoodest thy interest and didst slight it; approvedst the things
that were more excellent and didst reject them; How often
thou didst prevaricate with thy light, and run counter to thine
own eyes; while things, confessedly, most worthy of thy
thoughts and pursuits were overlooked; and empty shadows ea-
gerly pursued. Thy own heart will now feelingly tell thee, it
was not want of capacity, but inclination, that cut thee off from
blessedness. Thou wilt now bethink thyself, that when life and
immortality were brought to light before thy eyes in the gospel,
and thou wast told of this future blessedness of the saints, and
VOL. I.
16
122
THE BLESSEDNESS
pressed to follow holiness, as without which thou couldst not
see God; it was a reasonable man was spoken to, that had a
power to understand, and judge and choose; not a stone or a
brute. Thy capacity of this blessedness makes thee capable al-
so of the most exquisite torment; and reflected on, actually in-
fers it. How passionately, but vainly, wilt thou then cry out,
“O that I had filled up the place of any, the meanest creature
throughout the whole creation of God, that I had been a gnat,
or a fly, or had never been, rather than to have so noble, abused
powers eternally to reckon for? Yea, and thou must reckon for
not only the actual light, and good impressions thou hadst, but
even all thou wast capable of and mightest have attained. Thou
shalt now recount with anguish and horror (and rend thy own
soul with the thoughts) what thou mightest now have been;
how excellent and glorious a creature! hadst thou not contrived
thy own misery, and conspired with the devil against thyself,
how to deform and destroy thy own soul. While this remem-
brance shall always afresh return, that nothing was enjoined thee
as a duty, or propounded as thy blessedness, but what thou wast
made capable of; and that it was not fatal necessity, but a wilful
choice made thee miserable.
CHAPTER XII.
Inference 3. That a change of heart is necessary to this blessedness. The
pretences of ungodly men, whereby they would avoid the necessity of this
change. Five considerations proposed in order to the detecting the vanity
of such pretences. A particular discussion and refutation of those preten-
ces.
3. It is a mighty change must pass upon the souls of men in
order to their enjoyment of this blessedness. This equally fol-
lows from the consideration of the nature and substantial parts
of it, as of the qualifying righteousness pre-required to it. A
little reflection upon the common state and temper of men's spi-
rits, will soon enforce an acknowledgement that the vision of
God, and conformity to him, are things above their reach, and
which they are never likely to take satisfaction in, or at all to
savour, till they become otherwise disposed than before the
renovating change they are. The text expresses no more in
stating the qualified snbject of this blessedness in righteousness
than it evidently implies in the account it gives of this blessed-
ness itself, that it lies in seeing God, and being satisfied with his
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
123
likeness. As soon as it is considered, that the blessedness of
souls is stated here, what can be a more obvious reflection than
this; Lord, then how great a change must they undergo! what
such souls be blessed in seeing and partaking the divine likeness,
that never loved it! were so much his enemies! It is true they
are naturally capable of it, which speaks their original excellen-
cy; but they are morally uncapable, that is, indisposed and
averse, which as truly, and most sadly speaks their present vile-
ness; and the sordid, abject temper they now are of. They are
destitute of no natural powers necessary to the attainment of this
blessedness; but in the mean time have them so depraved by
impure and vicious tinctures that they cannot relish it, or the
means to it. They have reasonable souls furnished with intel-
lective and elective faculties, but laboring under a manifold dis-
temper and disaffection; that they cannot receive, they cannot
savour the things of God, or what is spiritual. Capax est noster
animus, perfertur illo, si vitia non deprimant: our mind is capa-
ble of any attainment were it not depraved by vice. Sen. epist.
29. 1. Cor. 2. 14. Rom. 8. 5. They want the sería (as we
may express it,) the well-disposedness for the kingdom of God,
intimated Luke. 9. 62. the ixavórns, the meetness, the aptitude,
or idoneity for the inheritance of the saints in light, Col. 1. 12.
A settled aversion from God hath fastened its roots in the very
spirit of their minds (for that is stated as the prime subject of
the change to be made Eph. 4. 23.) and how can they take
pleasure then in the vision and participation of his glory? Where-
as by beholding the glory of the Lord, they should be changed
into the same image: a vail is upon the heart till it turn to the
Lord, as was said concerning the Jews, 2. Cor. 3. 14. The God
of this world hath blinded their minds, lest (that transforming
light) the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image
of God, should shine unto them, chap. 4. 4. They are aliena-
ted from the life of God, through their ignorance and blindness
of heart. The life they choose is to be adeo ev xódu, atheists, or
without God in the world. Ephe. 2. 12. They like not to re-
tain God in their knowledge. (Rom. 1. 28.) are willingly igno-
rant of him, (2, Pet. 3. 5.) say to him, "Depart from us, we
desire not the knowledge of thy ways." (Job 21. 14.) The
Lord looks down from heaven upon the children of men, to see
if any will understand, if any will seek after God; and the result
of the inquiry is, there is none that doth good, no not one.
Psal. 53. 3. They are haters of God as our Saviour accused the
Jews, (John. 15. 23.) and saint Paul the Gentiles, are lovers of
pleasure more than lovers of God. (Rom. 1. 21.) their under-
standings are dark, their minds vain, their wills obstinate, their
consciences seared, their hearts hard and dead, their lives one
continued rebellion against God and a defiance to heaven. At
how vast a distance are such souls from such blessedness! The
124
THE BLESSEDNESS
4
notion and nature of blessedness must sure be changed, or the
temper of their spirits. Either they must have new hearts crea-
ted, or a new heaven, if ever they be happy. And such is the
stupid dotage of vain man, he can more easily persuade himself
to believe, that the sun itself should be transformed into a dung-
hill, that the holy God should lay aside his nature, and turn hea-
ven into a place of impure darkness; than that he himself
should need to undergo a change. O the powerful infatuation
of self-love, that men in the gall of bitterness should think it
is well with their spirits, and fancy themselves in a case good
enough to enjoy divine pleasure; that (as the toad's venom of
fends not itself) their loathsome wickedness, which all good men
detest, is a pleasure to them; and while it is as the poison of
asps under their lips, they roll it as a dainty bit, revolve it in
their thoughts with delight! Their wickedness speaks itself out
to the very hearts of others, (Psal. 36. 1. 2.) while it never af-
fects their own, and is found out to be hateful, while they still
continue flattering themselves. And because they are without.
spot in their own eyes; they adventure so high, as to presume
themselves so in the pure eyes of God too; and instead of de-
signing to be like God, they already imagine him such a one as
themselves. Psal. 50. Hence their allotment of time (in the
whole of it, the Lord knows little enough) for the working out
of their salvation spends apace; while they do not so much as
understand their business. Their measured hour is almost out;
an immense eternity is coming on upon them; and lo! they
stand as men that cannot find their hands. Urge them to the
speedy, serious endeavor of a heart-change, earnestly to intend
the business of regeneration, of becoming new creatures; they
seem to understand it is as little, as if they were spoken to in an
unknown tongue; and are in the like posture with the confound-
ed builders of babel, they know not what we mean, or would
put them upon. They wonder what we would have them do.
They are (say they) orthodox christians: they believe all the
articles of the Christian creed: they detest all heresy and false
doctrine they are no strangers to the house of God; but dili-
gently attend the enjoined solemnities of public worship: some
possibly can say, they are sober, just, charitable, peaceable; and
others that can boast less of their virtues, yet say, they are sor-
ry for their sins, and pray God to forgive them." And if we
urge them concerning their translation from the state of nature
to that of grace, their becoming new creatures, their implanta-
tion into Christ: they say they have been baptized, and therein
regenerate, and what would we have more?
66
But to how little purpose is it to equivocate with God? to go
about to put a fallacy upon the Judge of spirits? or escape the
animadversion of his fiery, flaming eye? or elude his determi-
nations, and pervert the true intent and meaning of his most es-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
125
tablished constitutions and laws? Darest thou venture thy soul
upon it? that this is all God means, by having a new heart crea-
ted, a right spirit renewed in us: by being made God's work-
manship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works: by becoming
new creatures, old things being done away, all things made new:
by so learning the truth as it is in Jesus, to the putting off the
old man, and putting on the new; which after God is created in
riohteousness and true holiness; by being begotten of God's own
will by the word of truth; to be (the drag) the chief excellen-
cy, the prime glory (as certainly his new creature is his best
creature,) the first fruits, or the devoted part of all his creatures;
by having Christ formed in us; by partaking the divine nature,
the incorruptible seed, the seed of God, by being born of God,
spirit of Spirit; as of earthly parents we are born flesh of flesh.*
When my eternal blessedness lies upon it, had I not need to be
sure that I hit the true meaning of these scriptures? especially,
that at least I fall not below it, and rest not in any thing short of
what Scripture makes indispensably necessary to my entering in to
the kingdom of God? I professedly wave controversies; and it
is pity so practical a business as this I am now upon, and upon
which salvation so much depends, should ever have been encum-
bered with any controversy. And therefore, though I shall not
digress so far, as to undertake a particular and distinct handling
here of this work of God upon the soul, yet, I shall propound
something in general, touching the change necessarily previous to
this blessedness, (wherein that necessity is evidenceable from the
nature of this blessedness which is the business I have in hand)
that I hope will pass among christians for acknowledged truth, not
liable to dispute, though the Lord knows it be little consider-
ed. My design being rather to awaken souls to the consideration
of known and agreed things, than to perplex them about un-
known. Consider therefore :
(1.) That the holy Scriptures, in the forementioned and other
like passages, do plainly hold forth the necessity of a real change,
to be made in the inward temper and dispositions of the soul;
and not a relative only, respecting its state. This cannot be
doubted by any that acknowledge a real inherent depravation,
propagated in the nature of man. No, nor denied by them that
grant such a corruption to be general and continued among men ;
whether by imitation only, or what way soever. And willing I
am to meet men upon their own principles and concessions, how-
ever erroneous or short of the truth they may be, while they
are yet improvable to their own advantage. Admit that regene-
ration, or the new birth includes a change of our relation and
state God-ward; doth it therefore exclude an intrinsic, subject-
*Psal. 51. Eph. 2. 10. 2 Cor. 5. 17. Eph. 4. 23. 24. Jam. 1. 18. Gal. 4. 19. 2
Pet. 1. 4. Pet. 1. Joh. 3. 6.
126
THE BLESSEDNESS
ive change of the inclinations and tendencies of the soul? And
if it did, yet other terms are more peculiarly appropriate to, and
most expressly point out this very change alone; as that of con-
version, or of turning to God; of being renewed in the spirit of
the mind; of putting off the old man that is corruptible &c. and
putting on the new man, which is created in righteousness and
true holiness, &c. of partaking the divine nature; it matters not
if this or that expression be understood by some, more princi-
pally in another sense, the thing itself, of which we speak, is as
clearly expressed, and as urgently pressed (as there was cause)
as any other matter whatsoever throughout the whole book of
God. But men are slower of belief, as to this great article of
the Christian doctrine, than to most (I might say any) other.
This truth more directly assaults the strong holds of the devil in
the hearts of men, and is of more immediate tendency to sub-
vert his kingdom; therefore they are most unwilling to have it
true, and most hardly believe it. Here they are so madly bold,
as to give the lie to all divine revelations; and though they are
never so plainly told without holiness none shall see God, they
will yet maintain the contrary belief and hope till, "Go ye curs-
ed” vindicate the truth of God, and the flame of hell be their eter-
nal confutation. Lord! that so plain a thing will not enter into the
hearts of men; that so urgent inculcations will not yet make
them apprehend that their souls must be renewed or perish! that
they will still go dreaming on with that mad conceit, that (what-
ever the word of God says to the contrary) they may yet with
unsanctified hearts get to heaven! How deplorable is the case,
when men have no other hope left them, but that the God of
truth will prove false, and belie his word; yea, and overturn the
nature of things to save them in their sins! Thou that livest un-
der the gospel, hast thou any pretence for thy seeming ignorance
in this matter? couldst thou ever look one quarter of an hour
into the Bible, and not meet with some intimation of this truth?
What was the ground of thy mistake? What hath beguiled thee
into so mischievous a delusion? How could such an imagination
have place in thy soul: that a child of wrath by nature could be-
come a child of God without receiving a new nature; that so
vast a change could be made in thy state, without any at all in
the temper of thy spirit.
(2.) Consider, that this change is in its own nature, and the de-
sign of God who works, it dispositive of the soul for blessedness.
It is sufficiently evident from the consideration of the state itself
of the unrenewed soul, that a change is necessary for this end;
such a soul in which it is not wrought, when once its drowsy,
stupifying slumber is shaken off, and its reflecting power awa-
kened, must needs be a perpetual torment to itself. So far it is
removed from blessedness, it is its own hell and can fly from mi-
sery and death no faster than from itself. Blessedness composes
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
127
the soul, reduces it to a csnsistency; it infers or rather is a self-
satisfaction, a well-pleasedness and contentment with ones self,
enriched and filled with duragxaia the divine fulness. Hence it is
at rest, not as being pent in, but contentedly dwelling with itself
and keeping within his own bounds of its own accord. The un-
renewed soul can no more contain itself within its own terms or
limits, is as little self-consistent, as a raging flame, or an impetu-
ous tempest. Indeed its own lusts perpetually, as so many vul-
tures, rend and tear it; and the more when they want external
objects; then, as hunger, their fury is all turned inward; and
they prey upon intestines, upon their own subject; but unto
endless torment, not satisfaction. In what posture is this soul
for rest and blessedness? The nature of this change sufficient-
ly speaks its own design. It is an introduction of, the primordia,
the very principles of blessedness. And scripture as plainly
speaks the design of God: He regenerates to the undefiled in-
heritance makes meet for it: (1 Pet. 1. 3. 4.) works, forms, or
fashions the soul unto that self-same thing, (Col. 1. 12.) namely
to desire and groan after that blessed state; (2 Cor. 5.5.) and
consequently to acquiesce and rest therein. Therefore, vain
man, that dreamest of being happy without undergoing such a
change; how art thou trying thy skill to abstract a thing from
itself? for the pre-required righteousness whereupon thou must
be changed, and this blessedness are in kind and nature the same
thing, as much as a child and a man. Thou pretendest thou
wouldst have that perfected which thou canst not endure should
ever be begun; thou settest thyself to prevent and suppress what
in its own nature, and by divine ordination tend to the accom-
plishment of thy own pretended desires. Thou wouldst have
the tree without ever admitting the seed or plant thou wouldst
have heat, and canst not endure the least warmth; so besotted a
thing is a carnal heart!
(3.) That inasmuch as this blessedness consists in the satisfac-
tory sight and participation of God's own likeness, unto whom
the soul is habitually averse, this change must chiefly stand in its
becoming holy or godly, or in the alteration of its dispositions
and inclinations as to God. Otherwise the design and end of it
is not attained. We are required to follow peace with all men,
but here the accent is put, and holiness, without which no man
shall see God, Heb. 12. 14. It is therefore a vain thing, in re-
ference to what we have now under consideration, namely the
possibility of attaining this blessedness, to speak of any other
changes that fall short of, or are of another kind from the right
disposition of heart God-ward. This change we are now con-
sidering, is no other than the proper adequate impress of the
gospel discovery upon men's spirits, as we have largely shewn
the righteousness is, in which it terminates. The sum of that
discovery is, that God is in Christ reconciling the world unto
128
THE BLESSEDNESS
himself, (2 Cor. 5. 18. 19.) the proper impress of it, therefore is
the actual reconciliation of the soul to God through Christ; a
friendly, well-affected posture of spirit towards God, our last end
and highest good; and towards Christ our only way, since the
apostacy, of attaining and enjoying it. To rest therefore in any
other good dispositions or endownents of mind, is as much be-
sides the business, as impertinent to the present purpose, as if
one designed to the government of a city, should satisfy himself
that he hath the skill to play well on a lute, or he that intends
physic, that he is well seen in architecture. The general scope
and tenor of the gospel tells thee, O man, plainly enough, what
the business is thou must intend (if thou wilfully overlook it not)
in order io thy blessedness. It is written to draw thee into fel
lowship with the Father and the Son, that thy joy may be full.
1 John. 1. 1. 4. It aims at the bringing of thee into a state of
blessedness in God through Christ; and is therefore the instru-
ment by which God would form thy heart thereto; the seal by
which to make the first impression of his image upon thee, which
will then as steadily incline and determine thy soul towards him:
sa the magnetic touch ascertains the posture of the needle. Where-
fore doth he there discover his own heart, but to melt and win,
and transform thine? The word of grace is the seed of the new
creature. Through the exceeding great and precious promises,
he makes souls partake of the divine nature. Grace is, firstly
revealed to teach the denial of ungodliness, &c.
Turn thy
thoughts hither then, and consider what is there done upon thy
soul by the gospel, to attemper and conform it to God? Wherein
has thy heart answered this its visible design and intendment?
Thou art but in a delirious dream till thou seriously bethinkest
thyself of this. For otherwise how can the aversion of thy
heart from him escape thy daily observation; thou canst not be
without evidences of it; what pleasure dost thou take in retiring
thyself with God; what care to redeem time only for converse
with him? hadst thou not rather be any where else? In a time
of vacancy from business and company, when thou hast so great
a variety of things before thee, among which to choose an object
for thy thoughts, do they not naturally fall upon any thing rather
than God? Nor do you think to shift off this by assigning the
mere natural cause; for if there were not somewhat more in the
matter, why is it not so with all? He upon whom this change had
passed could say; My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and
fatness; and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips, when I
remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night-
watches. My meditation of him shall be sweet; I will be glad
in the Lord. How precious are thy thoughts unto me, O God,
how great is the sum of them? If I should count them, they
are more in number than the sand; when I awake; I am still
Yea, in the way of thy judgments, O God, have
with thee.
1
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
129
we waited for thee; the desire of our soul is to thy name,
and to the remembrance of thee. With my soul have I desired
thee in the night, yea, with my spirit within me will I seek thee
early, &c.* Therefore plain it is, there is a sinful distemper to
be wrought out, an ungodly disposition of heart, which it con-
cerns thee not to rest till thou see removed.
(4.) Consider, that to become godly, or this change of incli-
nations and dispositions towards God, is that which of all others
the soul doth most strongly reluctate and strive against; and
which therefore it undergoes with greatest difficulty and regret.
It is a horrid and amazing thing it should be so, but Scripture
and experience leave it undoubted that so it is. What! that the
highest excellency, the most perfect beauty, loveliness, and love.
itself should so little attract a reasonabie, spiritual being that is-
sued thence? His own offspring so unkind! what more than
monstrous unnaturalness is this, so to disaffect one's own original!
It were easy to accumulate and heap up considerations that would
render this astonishingly strange. So things are reckoned upon
several accounts, either as they are more rare and unfrequent
(which is the vulgar way of estimating wonders) or as their
causes are of more difficult investigation; or (if they are mo-
ral wonders) as they are more unreasonable or causeless; upon
this last account, Christ marvelled at the Jews' unbelief: (Mark
6. 6.) and so is this hatred justly marvellous; as being altoge-
ther without a cause? But thence to infer there is no such thing,
were to dispute against the sun. No truth hath more of light
and evidence in it, though none more of terror and prodigy. To
how many thousand objects is the mind of men indifferent? can
turn itself to this or that; run with facility all points of the com-
pass, among the whole universe of beings: but assay only to
draw it to God, and it recoils: thoughts and affections revolt,
and decline all converse with that blessed object! Toward other
objects, it freely opens and dilates itself, as under the benign
beams of a warm sun; there are placid, complacential emotions;
amicable, sprightly converses and embraces. Towards God only
it is presently contracted and shut up; life retires, and it becomes
as a stone, cold, rigid and impenetrable: the quite contrary to
what is required (which also those very precepts do plainly im-
ply;) it is alive to sin, to the world, to vanity; but crucified,
mortified, dead to God and Jesus Christ. Rom. 6. 11.
The natures of many men that are harsh, fierce and savage,
admit of many cultivations and refinings; and by moral precept,
the exercise and improvement of reason, with a severe animad-
version and observance of themselves, they become mild, tract-
able, gentle, meek. The story of the physiognomist's guess at
the temper of Socrates is known. But of all other, the disaf-
*Psal. 63. 5. 6.—104, 34.—139. 17. 18. Isa. 26. 8.
VOL. 1.
17
130
THE BLESSEDNESS
fected soul is least inclinable ever to become good-natured to-
wards God, wherein grace or holiness doth consist. Here it is
most unpersuadable, never facile to this change. One would
have thought no affection should have been so natural, so deeply
inwrought into the spirit of man, as an affection towards the Fa-
ther of spirits; but here he most of all discovers himself to be
without natural affection: surely here is a sad proof, that such
affection doth not ascend. The whole duty of man, as to the
principle of it, resolves into love. That is the fulfilling of the
law. As to its object; the two tables divide it between God
and our neighbor; and accordingly divide that love. Upon those
two branches whereof; love to God, and love to our neighbor,
hang all the law and the prophets. The wickedness of the world
hath killed this love at the very root, and indisposed the nature
of man to all exercises of it, either way, whether towards God
or his neighbor. It hath not only rendered man unmeet for holy
communion with God, but in a great measure for civil society
with one another. It hath destroyed good nature; made men
false, envious, barbarous; turned the world; especially the dark
places of the earth, where the light of the gospel shines not, into
habitations of cruelty. But who sees not the enmity and disaf-
fection of men's hearts towards God is the more deeply rooted,
and less superable evil?
The beloved apostle gives us a plain and sad intimation how
the case is, as to this, when he reasons thus; He that loveth not
his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he
hath not seen? He argues from the less to the greater; and
this is the ground upon which his argument is built: that the lo-
ving of God is a matter of greater difficulty, and from which the
spirit of man is more remote, than loving of his neighbor. And
he withall insinuates an account why it is so; God's remoteness
from our sense, which is indeed a cause, but no excuse: it is a
peccant, faulty cause. For is our so gross sensuality no sin? that
nothing should affect our hearts, but what we can see with our
eyes? as if our sense were the only measure or judge of excel-
lencies. We are not all flesh, what have we done with our souls?
if we cannot see God with our eyes, why do we not with our
minds? at least so much of him we might, as to discern his ex-
cellency above all things else. How come our souls to lose their
dominion, and to be so slavishly subject to a ruling sense? but
the reason less concerns our present purpose; that whereof it is
the reason; that implied assertion, that men are in a less dispo-
sition to the love of God than their neigbors, is the sad truth we
are now considering. There are certain homiletical virtues, that
much adorn and polish the nature of man, urbanity, fidelity, jus-
tice, patience of injuries, compassion towards the miserable, &c.
and indeed without these, the world would break up, and all ci-
vil societies disband, if at least they did not in some degree ob-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
131
tain. But in the mean time men are at the greatest distance im-
aginable from any disposition to society with God. They have
some love for one another, but none for him. And yet it must
be remembered, that love to our neighbor, and all the consequent
exertions of it, becoming duty by the divine law, ought to be
performed as acts of obedience to God, and therefore ought to
grow from the stock and root of a divine love; I mean, love to
God. They are otherwise but spurious virtues, bastard fruits
(men gather not grapes of thorns, &c.) they grow from a tree
of another kind; and whatever semblance they may have of the
true, they want their constituent form, their life and soul. Though
love to the brethren is made a character of the regenerate state,
of having passed from death to life; 1 John. 3. 14. it is yet but
a more remote, and is itself brought to trial by this higher and
more immediate one, and which is more intimately connatural to
the new creature, even the love of God; By this we know we
love the children of God, when we love God, and keep his com-
mandments. chap. 5. 2. A respect to God* specifies every vir-
tue and duty. Whatever is loved and served, and not in him
and for him (servato ordine finis, keeping the chosen end in view,
as the school phrase is,) becomes an idol; and that love and ser-
vice is idolatry. And what a discovery is here of disaffection to
God; that in the exercise of such (the above-mentioned) virtues
one single act shall be torn from itself, from its specifying moral
form, only to leave out him. A promise shall be kept, but with-
out any respect to God, for even the promises made to him are
broken without any scruple. That which is another's shall be
rendered to him; but God shall not be regarded in the business.
An alms given, for the Lord's sake left out.
That which con-
cerns my neigbor often done, but what concerns God therein, as
it were studiously omitted. This is what he that runs may read,
that though the hearts of men are not to one another as they
should, they are much more averse towards God.
Men are easier of acquaintance towards one another, they slide
insensibly into each others bosom; even the most churlish, mo-
rose natures are wrought upon by assiduous repeated kindnesses,
gutta cavat lapidem, &c. as often-falling drops at length wear
and work into very stones: towards God their hearts are more
impenetrable than rocks, harder than adamants. He is seeking
with some an acquaintance all their days: they live their whole
age under the gospel, and yet are never won. They hearken to
one another, but are utterly unpersuadable towards God; as the
deaf adder that hears not the voice of the charmer though charm-
ing never so wisely. The clearest reason, the most powerful
*Proinde virtutes quas sibi videtur habere, nisi ad Deum retulerit, etiam
ipsa vitia sunt potius quam virtutes. Whatever virtues a man may seem to
himself to possess, if he do not refer them all to God, they are vices, rather
than virtues.
132
THE BLESSEDNESS
\
!
arguments move them not: no nor the most insinuative allure-
ments, the sweetest breathings of love: "How often would I
have gathered thee, as the hen her chickens under her wings,
and ye would not.” God draws with the cords of a man, with
the bands of love; but they still perversely keep at an unkind
distance.* Men use to believe one another (were there no cre-
dit given to each others words, and some mutual confidence in
one another, there could be no human converse, all must affect
solitude, and dwell in dens and deserts as wild beasts,) but how
incredulous are they of all divine revelations? though testified
with never so convincing evidence! who hath believed our re-
port! The word of the eternal God is regarded (O amazing
wickedness) as we would the word of a child or a fool; no so-
ber, rational man, but his narrations, promises or threatenings,
are more reckoned of. Men are more reconcilable to one ano-
ther when enemies, more constant when friends. How often
doth the power of a conquering enemy, and the distress of the
conquered, work a submission on this part, and a remission on
that. How often are haughty spirits stooped by a series of ca-
lamities, and made ductile: proud arrogants formed, by necessi-
ty and misery, into humble supplicants, so as to lie prostrate at
the feet of a man that may help or hurt them; while still the
same persons retain indomitable unyielding spirits towards God,
under their most afflictive pressures. Though his gracious na-
ture and infinite fulness promise the most certain and liberal re-
lief, it is the remotest thing from their thoughts to make any ad-
dress to him. They cry because of the oppression of the mighty
but none says Where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the
night? (Job. 35. 10.) rather perish under their burdens than look
towards God, when his own visible hand is against them, or
upon them, and their lives at his mercy; they stand it out to the
last breath; and are more hardly humbled than consumed; soon-
er burn than weep; shrivelled up into ashes sooner than melted
into tears; scorched with great heat yet repent not to give glo-
ry to God Rev. 16. 9. gnaw their tongues for pain, and yet
still more disposed to blaspheme than pray or sue for mercy.
Dreadful thought! as to one anothers reconciliations among men
are not impossible or unfrequent, even of mortal enemies; but
they are utterly implacable towards God! yet they often wrong
one another; but they cannot pretend, God ever did them the
least wrong, yea, they have lived by his bounty all their days.
They say to God, "Depart from us," yet he filleth their houses
"Ha-
with good things. So true is the historian's† observation,
tred is sharpest where most unjust.”
•
*Mat. 23. 37. See Psal. 81. 8. to 13. Prov. 1. 20. to 24. &c. Hos. 11. 4.
Tacitus speaking of the hatred of Tiberius and Augusta against German-
icus, the causers whereof, saith he, were acriores, quia iniquæ.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
133
Yea, when there seems at least to have been a reconciliation
wrought, are treacheries, covenant-breakings, revolts, strange-
ness, so frequent among men towards one another, as from them
towards God? How inconsistent with friendship is it, according
to common estimate, to be always promising, never performing;
upon any or no occasion to break off intercourses, by unkind ali-
enations, or mutual hostilities; to be morose, reserved each to
other; to decline or disaffect each others converse; to shut out
one another from their hearts and thoughts. But how common
and unregretted are these carriages towards the blessed God?
It were easy to expatiate on this argument, and multiply instan-
ces of this greater disaffection. But in a word, what observing
person may not see, what serious person would not grieve to see
the barbarous, sooner putting on civility; the riotous, sobriety;
the treacherous, fidelity; the morose, urbanity; the injurious,
equity; the churlish and covetous, benignity and charity; than
the ungodly man, piety and sincere devotedness unto God? Here
is the principal wound and distemper sin hath infected the na-
ture of man with: Though he have suffered a universal impair-
ment, he is chiefly prejudiced in regard of his tendency towards
God; and what concerns the duties of the first table. Here the
breach is greatest, and here is its greatest need of repair. True
it is; an inoffensive, winning deportment towards men, is not
without its excellency, and necessity too. And it doth indeed
unsufferably reproach Christianity, and unbecome a disciple of
Christ; yea it discovers a man not to be led by his Spirit, and so
to be none of his; to indulge himself in immoral deportment
towards men; to be undutiful towards superiors; unconversable
towards equals; oppressive towards inferiors; unjust towards
any. Yet is a holy disposition of heart towards God, most earn-
estly, and in the first place to be endeavored (which will then
draw on the rest) as having in it the highest equity and excel-
lency, and being of the most immediate necessity to our bless-
edness.
(5.) Consider, that there may be some gradual tendencies, or
fainter essays towards godliness, that fall short of real godliness,
or come not up to that thorough change and determination of
heart God-ward, that is necessary to blessedness. There may
be a returning, but not to the most high, wherein man may be
(as the prophet immediately subjoins Hos. 7. 16.) like a deceit-
ful bow, not fully bent, that will not reach the mark; they come
not home to God. Many may be almost persuaded; and even
within reach of heaven, not far from the kingdom of God; may
seek to enter, and not be able; their hearts being somewhat in-
clinable, but more averse; for they can only be unable as they
are unwilling. The soul is in no possibility of taking up a com-
placential rest in God, till it be brought to this, to move toward
him spontaneously and with, as it were, a self-motion.
And
134
THE BLESSEDNESS
then is it self-moved towards God, when its preponderating bent
is towards him. As a massy stone that one attempts to displace,
if it be heaved at till it preponderate, it then moves out by its
own weight; otherwise it reverts, and lies where as it did be-
fore. So it is with many men's hearts, all our lifting at them,
is but the rolling of the returning stone; they are moved, but
not removed: sometimes they are lifted at in the public ministry
of the word; sometimes by a private, seasonable admonition;
sometimes God makes an affliction his minister; a danger start-
les them; a sickness shakes them; and they think to change their
course but how soon do they change those thoughts, and are
where they were? what enlightenings and convictions, what
awakenings and terror, what remorses, what purposes, what
tastes and relishes do some find in their own hearts, that yet are
blasted and come to nothing? How many miserable abortions
after travailing pangs and throes, and fair hopes of a happy birth
of the new creature? Often somewhat is produced that much
resembles it, but is not it. No gracious principle but may have
its counterfeit in an ungracious heart; whence they deceive not
others only, but themselves, and think verily they are true con-
verts while they are yet in their sins. How many wretched
souls, that lie dubiously struggling a long time under the contrary
alternate impressions of the gospel on the one hand, and the
present evil world on the other; and give the day to their own
sensual inclinations at last, in some degree, escape the corrup-
tions of the world, by the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ, but are again entangled and overcome, so as their
latter end is worse than their beginning! 2. Pet. 2. 20. Such a
man is so far from being advantaged by his former faint inclina-
tions towards God, that he would be found at last under this ag-
gravated wickedness beyond all other men; that when others
wandered from God through inadvertency and inconsideration,
this man will be found to have been his enemy upon deliberation,
and against the various strivings of his convinced heart to the
contrary. This is more eminently victorious and reigning enmi-
ty; such a one takes great pains to perish. Alas! it is not a
slight touch, and overly superficial tincture, some evanid senti-
ments of piety, a few good thoughts or wishes, that bespeak a
new man, a new creature. It is a thorough prevailing change,
that quite alters the habitual posture of a man's soul, and de-
termines it towards God, so as that the after-course of his life
may be capable of that denomination, a living to God, a living
after the Spirit; that exalts the love of God unto that suprem-
acy in him, that it becomes the governing principle of his life,
and the reason and measure of his actions; that as he loves him
above all things else, better than his own life, so he can truly
(though possibly sometimes with a doubtful, trembling heart)
resolved the ordinary course of his daily walking and practice
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
135
into that love, as the directive principle of it. I pray, I read, I
hear, because I love God. I desire to be just, sober, charitable,
meek, patient because I love God. This is the perfection and
end of the love of God, (therefore that must needs be the prin-
ciple hereof) obedience to his will. 1 John. 2. 5. Τετελειώσαι.
Herein appears that power of godliness, denied (God knows)
by too many that have the form: the spirit of love, power, and
of a sound mind. 2. Tim. 3. 5. chap. 1. 7. That only is a
sound mind, in which such love rules in such power. Is not
love to God often pretended by such that, whenever it comes to
an actual competition, discover they love their own flesh a great
deal more; that seldom ever cross their own wills to do his? or
hazard their own fleshly interest to promote his interest? we
may justly say (as the apostle, in a case fitly enough reducible
hither,) how dwells the love of God in that man? Notwith-
standing such a subdued ineffectual love to God, such a one
shall be denominated and dealt with as an enemy. It is not
likely any man on earth hates God so perfectly as those in hell.
And is it not every quality, not yet perfect in its kind, and that
is yet growing more and more intense, in the mean time allayed
by some degree of its contrary? Yet that over-mastered de-
gree denominates not its subject, nor ought a man from such a
supposed love to God to have the name of a lover of him. That
principle is not only capable of denominating the man, that is
prevalent and practical, that hath a governing influence on his
heart and life. He in whom the love of God hath not such pow-
er and rule, whatever his fainter inclinations, may be, is an un-
godly man.
And now methinks these several considerations compared and
weighed together, should contribute something to the settling of
right thoughts in the minds of secure sinners, touching the na-
ture and necessity of this heart-change; and do surely leave no
place for the forementioned vain pretences that occasioned them.
For (to give you a summary view of what hath been propound-
ed in those foregoing considerations,) it now plainly appears,
That the holy Scripture requires in him that shall enjoy this
blessedness, a mighty change of the very temper of his soul,
as that which must dispose him thereto; and which must there-
fore chiefly consist, in the right framing of his heart towards God;
towards whom it is mostly, fixedly averse, and therefore not ea-
sily susceptible of such a change. And that any slighter or more
feeble inclination towards God, will not serve the turn; but such
only whereby the soul is prevalently and habitually turned to
him. And then what can be more absurd or unsavoury? what
more contrary to christian doctrine, or common reason, than in-
stead of this necessary heart-change, to insist upon so poor a
plea, as that mentioned above, as the only ground of so great a
hope? How empty and frivolous will it appear in comparison of
136
THE BLESSEDNESS
this great soul-transforming change, if we severally consider the
particulars of it. As for orthodoxy in doctrinals, it is in itself a
highly laudable thing; and in respect of the fundamentals (for
therefore are they so called) indispensably necessary to blessed-
ness. As that cannot be without holiness, so nor holiness with-
out truth. John. 17. 17. But, (besides that this is that which
every one pretends to) is every thing which is necessary, suffi-
cient? As to natural necessity (which is that we now speak to)
reason, and intellectual nature are also necessary; shall there-
fore all men, yea, and devils too, be saved? Besides, are you
sure you believe the grand articles of the Christian religion?
Consider a little,-the grounds and effects of that pretended
faith.
(1.) Its grounds; every assent is as the grounds of it are.
Deal truly here with thy soul. Can you tell wherefore you are
a christian? what are thy inducements to be of this religion? are
they not such as are common to thee with them that are of a
false religion? (I am here happily prevented by a worthy au-
thor,* to which I recommend thee, but at the present a little
bethink thyself,) Is it not possible thou mayst be a christian for
the same reasons for which one may be a Jew, or a Mahometan,
or a mere P agan ? as namely, education, custom, law, example, out-
ward advantage, &c. Now consider, if thou find this upon in-
quiry to be thy case, the motives of thy being a christian admit of
being cast together into this form of reasoning. That religion
which a man's forefathers were of, which is established by law,
or generally obtains in the country where he lives, the profession
whereof, most conduces to, or best consists with his credit, and
other outward advantages, that religion he is to embrace as the
true religion. But such I find the christian religion to be to me;
therefore, &c. The proposition here is manifestly false; for it
contains grounds common to all religions, publicly owned, and
professed throughout the world; and sure all cannot be true:
and hence the conclusion (though materially considered it be
true, yet) formally considered, as a conclusion issuing from such
premises, must needs be false; and what then is become of
thy orthodoxy; when, as to the formal object of thy faith, thou
believest but as Mahometans and Pagans do? when thou art
of this faith, by fate or chance only, not choice or rational in-
ducement?
(2.) As to the effects of thy faith: let them be inquired into
also, and they will certainly bear proportion to the grounds of
it. The gospel is the power of God to salvation to every one
that believes; (Rom. 1. 16. 1 Thes. 2. 13.) to them that be-
lieve, it not, it signifies nothing. The word of God received
with a vine faith, as the word of God, works effectually upon
* Mr. Pink's trial of sincere love to Christ.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
137
all that so receive it, that is, all that believe. What such effi-
cacious workings of it hast thou felt upon thy soul? Certainly,
its most connatural effect is that very change of heart, and in-
clination God-ward, of wich we have been speaking. What is
so suitable to the gospel-revelation, as a good temper of heart
God-ward? And how absurd is it to introduce the cause on
purpose to exclude its genuine inseparable effect? But evident
it is, (though true faith cannot,) that superficial, irrational as-
sent, in which alone many glory, may too well consist with a
disaffected heart towards God: and can it then signify any thing
towards thy blessedness? sure to be so a solifidian is to be a
nullifidian. Faith not working by love is not faith; at least
profits nothing. For thy outward conformity in the solemnities of
worship, it is imputable to so corrupt motives and principles, that
the thing itself, abstractively considered, can never be thought
characteristical and dististinguishing of the heirs of blessedness.
The worst of men, may perform the best of outward duties.
Thy most glorious boasted virtues, if they grow not from the
proper root, love to God, they are but splendid sins, as above
appears, and hath been truly said of old. Thy repentance is
either true or false; if true, it is that very change of mind and
heart I speak of, and is therefore eminently signalized by that
note, it is repentance towards God; if false, God will not be
mocked. For thy regeneration in baptism; what can it avail
thee, as to this blessedness, if the present temper of thy heart be
unsuitable, thereto? Didst thou ever know any that held, that
all the baptized should be saved? Will thy infant sanctity ex-
cuse the enmity and disaffection to God of thy riper age?
In short, if we seclude this work of God upon the soul, how
inconsiderable is the difference between the Christian and the
heathen world? wherein can it then be understood to lie, but in
some ineffectual notions, and external observances? And can
it be thought that the righteous, holy God will make so vast a
difference in the states of men hereafter, who differ so little here?
or that it shall so highly recommend a man to God, that it was
his lot to be born, and to have lived upon such a turf or soil, or
in such a clime or part of the world? His gracious providence
is thankfully to be acknowledged and adored, that hath assigned
us our stations under the gospel; but then it must be remember-
ed, the gospel hath the goodness, not of the end, but of the
means; which, as by our improvement or non-improvement, it
becomes effectual or ineffectual, doth acquit from, or aggravate
condemnation: and that it works not as a charm or spell, we
know not how, or why, or when we think not of it; but by
recommending itself in the demonstration and power of the
Holy Ghost, to our reason and consciences, to our wills and af-
fections, till we be delivered up into the mould or form of it.
Rom. 6. 17. Surely were it so slight a matter, as too many
VOL. I.
18
138
THE BLESSEDNESS
fondly dream, that must distinguish between them that shall be
saved and shall perish, there would need no striving to enter in
at the strait gate; and the disciples question would never have
been, who then shall be saved? but rather, who shall not be
saved? nor would it have been resolved by our Saviour into the
immediate power of him alone, to whom all things are possible
(Matt. 19. 26.) that any are saved at all; nor have been so
earnestly asserted by him, that none could come to him, but
whom his Father draws. John. 6. 44. The obvious import of
which passages is such, that if careless sinners could once obtain
of themselves seriously to consider them, methinks they would
find little rest in their spirits, till they might discern a work
wrought there, in some degree worthy of God, an impression
some way proportionable to the power of an almighty arm; and
that might speak God its author. For notwithstanding the soul's
natural capacities before asserted and inferred, its moral inca-
pacity, I mean its wicked aversation from God, is such as none but
God himself can overcome. Now is that aversation the less cul-
pable, for that it is so hardly overcome, but the more.
It is an
aversation of will; and who sees not, that every man is more
wicked, according as his will is more wickedly bent? Hence
his impotency or inability to turn to God, is not such as that
he cannot turn if he would; but it consists in this, that he is
not willing. He affects a distance from God. Which shews
therefore the necessity still of this change. For the possibility
of it, and the encouragement (according to the methods wherein
God is wont to dispense his grace) the sinner hath to hope
and endeavor it, will more fitly fall into consideration else-
where.
*That moral incapacity is also in some sense truly natural, that is, in the
same sense wherein we are said to be by nature the children of wrath, Eph.
2. 3. Therefore human nature must be considered as created by God, and
as propagated by man. In the former sense, as God is the author of it, it is
taken in this distinction, of moral and natural impotency, which needs not
further explication; yet you may take this account of it from Dr. Twisse,
Impotentia faciendi quod Deo gratum est et acceptum, non est impotentia
naturæ, sed morum. Nulla etenim nobis deest facultas naturæ per peccatum
originale, juxta illud Augustini; Nulli agnoscendi veritatis abstulit facultatem.
Adhuc remanet potentia, qua facere possumus quæcunque volumus: the ina-
bility to do what is pleasing and acceptable to God, is not a natural but mo-
ral inability. For no faculty of our nature is taken away from us by original
sin (as saith Augustine,) it has taken from no man the faculty of discerning
truth. The power still remains by which we can do whatsoever we choose.
Vind.. I. 3. errat. 9. sect. 6. Naturalem potentiam, quidlibet agendi pro arbi-
trio ipsorum, dicimus ad omnes transmitti, non autem potentiam moralem:
we say that the natural power of doing any thing according to our will is
preserved to all, but not moral power. Vindic. Criminat. 3. S. 1. digr. 2.
chap. 3.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
139
با
4 Inference.
CHAPTER XIII.
That the soul in which such a change is wrought, restlessly
pursues this blessedness till it be attained. 5 Inference. That the know-
ing of God, and conformity to him, are satisfying things, and do now in a
degree satisfy, according to the measure wherein they are attained. 6 In-
ference. That the love of God towards his people is great, that hath de-
signed for them so great, and even a satisfying good.
4. It is further to be inferred, that a soul wherein such a
change is wrought, pursues this blessedness with restless, su-
preme desire, till it attain to the fulness thereof. We have here
a plainly implied description of the posture and tendency of
such a soul (even of a sanctified holy soul, which had therefore
undergone this blessed change) towards this state of blessed-
ness. I shall (saith he) be satisfied with thy likeness, as though
he had said, I cannot be satisfied otherwise. We have seen how
great a change is necessary to dispose the soul to this blessed-
ness, which being once wrought, nothing else can now satisfy it.
Such a thing is this blessedness, (I speak now of so much of
it as is previous and conducing to satisfaction, or of blessedness
materially considered, the divine glory to be beheld and parti-
cipated:) it is of that nature, it makes the soul restless, it lets
it not be quiet, after it hath got some apprehension of it, till it
attain the full enjoyment. The whole life of such a one, is a
continual seeking God's face. So attractive is this glory of a
subject rightly disposed to it: while others crave corn and wine,
this is the sum of the holy soul's desires, Lord lift thou up the
light of thy countenance, &c. Psal. 4. 6. The same thing is
the object of its present desires that shall be of its eternal satis-
faction and enjoyment. This is now its one thing, the request
insisted on, to behold the beauty of the Lord, &c. (Psal. 27. 4.)
and while in any measure it doth so, yet it is still looking for this
blessed hope, still hoping to be like him, see him as he is. The
expectation of satisfaction in this state, implies the restless work-
ing of desire till then; for what is this satisfaction, but the ful-
filling of our desires, the perfecting of the soul's motions in a
complacential rest? Motion and rest do exactly correspond
each to other. Nothing can naturally rest in any place, to which
it was not before naturally inclined to move. And the rest is
proportionably more composed and steady, according as the mo-
tion was stronger and more vigorous. By how much the hea-
140
THE BLESSEDNESS
vier any body is, so much the stronger and less resistible is its
motion downward; and then accordingly it is less moveable
when it hath attained its resting place. It is therefore a vanity
and contradiction, to speak of the soul's being satisfied in that
which it was not before desirous of.* And that state which it
shall ultimately and eternally acquiesce in (with a rest that must
therefore be understood to be most composed and sedate,) to-
wards it, it must needs move with the strongest and most un-
satisfied desire, a desire that is supreme, prevalent, and triumph-
ant over all other desires, and over all other obstructions to it-
self; least capable of diversion, or of pitching upon any thing
short of the term aimed at. Ask therefore the holy soul, What
is thy supreme desire? and so far as it understands itself, it must
answer, "To see and partake the divine glory; to behold the
blessed face of God, till his likeness be transfused through all
my powers, and his entire image be perfectly formed in me:
present to my view what else you will, I can be satisfied in no-
thing else but this." Therefere this leaves a black note upon
those wretched souls that are wholly strangers to such desires;
that would be better satisfied to dwell always in dust; that shun
the blessed face of God as hell itself; and to whom the most
despicable vanity is a more desirable sight than that of divine
glory. Miserable souls! Consider your state, can that be your
blessedness which you desire not? or do you think God will re-
ceive any into his blessed presence, to whom it shall be a bur-
den! Methinks, upon the reading of this you should presently
doom yourselves, and see your sentence written in your breast.
Compare your hearts with this holy man's; see if there be any
thing like this in the temper of your spirits; and never think
well of yourselves till you find it so.
5. The knowledge of God, and conformity to him, are in their
own nature apt to satisfy the desires of the soul, and even now
actually do so, in the measure wherein they are attained. Some
things are not of a satisfying nature; there is nothing tending to
satisfaction in them. And then the continual heaping together
of such things, doth no more towards satisfaction, than the ac-
cumulating of mathematical points would towards the compact-
ing of a solid body; or the multiplication of cyphers only, to
the making of a sum. But what shall one day satisfy, hath in
itself a power and aptitude thereto. The act, whenever it is,
supposes the power. Therefore the hungry craving soul, that
would fain be happy, but knows not how, needs not spend its
days in making uncertain guesses, and fruitless attempts and
*Aptitudinally, I mean, and ex hypothesi,'that is supposing the knowledge of
the object: otherwise as to actual explicit desires, God doth give us beyond
what we can ask or think. But it is impossible the soul should rest satisfied
in that, which upon knowledge it is undesirous of, und doth or would re-
ject.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
141
+
trials: it may fix its hovering thoughts; and upon assurance
here given, say, I have now found at last where satisfaction may
be had; and have only this to do, to bend all my powers hither,
and intend this one thing, the possessing myself of this blessed
rest; earnestly to endeavor, and patiently to wait for it. Hap-
py discovery! welcome tidings! I now know which way to
turn my eye, and direct my pursuit. I shall no longer spend
myself in dubious, toilsome wanderings, in anxious, vain inqui-
ry. I have found! I have found! blessedness is here. If I can
but get a lively efficacious sight of God, I have enough-Shew
me the Father, and it sufficeth. Let the weary, wandering soul
bethink itself, and retire to God; He will not mock thee with
shadows, as the world hath done. This is eternal life, to know
him the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent.
Apart from Christ thou canst not know nor see him with fruit
and comfort; but the gospel revelation (which is the revelation
of God in Christ) gives thee a lovely prospect of Him. His
glory shines in the face of Jesus Christ; and when by behold-
ing it thou art changed into the same likeness, and findest thy-
self gradually changing more and more from glory to glory, thou
wilt find thyself accordingly in a gradual tendency towards sa-
tisfaction and blessedness: that is, do but seriously set thyself
to study and contemplate the being and attributes of God; and
then look upon him as through the Mediator, He is willing to be
reconciled to thee, and become thy God; and so long let thine
eye fix and dwell here, till it affect thy heart, and the proper
impress of the gospel be by the Spirit of the Lord instamped
upon it; till thou find thyself wrought to a compliance with his
holy will, and his image formed in thee; and thou shalt soon ex-
perience thou art entering into his rest; and wilt relish a more
satisfying pleasure in this blessed change, than all thy worldly
sensual enjoyments did ever afford thee before.
Surely, if the perfect vision and perception of his glorious
likeness will yield a complete satisfaction at last, the initial and
progressive tendencies towards the former, will proportionably
infer the latter. It is obvious hence to collect, who are in this
world (ordinarily and, cæteris paribus, where more unusual vio-
lent temptations hinder not) the most satisfied and contented
persons; even those that have most of the clarifying sights of
God, and that thence partake most of his image, (indeed Script-
ure only vouchsafes the name to such sights of God; He that
doth evil hath not seen God, 1 John. 3. 6. 3. John. 11.) such as
have most of a godly frame wrought into their spirits, and that
have hearts most attempered and conformed to God; these are
the most contented persons in the world. Content is part of the
gain that attends godliness; it conccurring, renders the other a
great gain; godliness with contentment; (1 Tim. 6. 6.) the form
of expression discovers how connatural contentment is to godli-
142
THE BLESSEDNESS
ness; as if they were not to be mentioned apart. Godliness, as
if he had said, is a very gainful thing, but if you would compre-
hend the gainfulness of it fully, do not abstract too curiously,
take in with it that which is of so near an alliance, that you will
hardly know how to consider them apart; let its inseparable ad-
junct, contentment, go along with it, and you will find it a gain-
ful thing indeed. The true knowledge of God so directly tends
to holiness, and that to contentation, that it may be too evidently
concluded, that a discontented person hath little of the one or the
other, not much knowledge and less grace; he is so far from be-
ing like God, that in the apostle's language above we may say,
he hath not seen him. Doth that person know God, or hath
ever seen him, that falls not into the dust, admiring so glorious a
Majesty that subjects not himself to him, with loyal affections,
accounting it his only grand concernment to please and serve
him? But the discontented person takes upon him, as if he were
God alone, and as if he expected every creature to do him hom-
age, and thought the creation were made for the pleasure and
service of none but him. Hath that person ever seen God, that
acknowledges him not a sufficient portion, a full, all-comprehend-
ing good? Hath he seen him, that sees not reason to trust him,
to commit all his concernments to him? Hath he seen him that
loves him not, and delights not in his love? Hath he seen him
that quits not all for him, and abandons not every private interest
to espouse his; and how evidently do these things tend to quiet
and compose the soul! Discontent proceeds from idolizing
thoughts of ourselves; it is rooted in self-conceit, in self-depend-
ance, self-love, self-seeking, all which despicable idols (or that
one great idol, self, thus variously served and idolized) one sight
of the divine glory would confound and bring to nothing. The
sights of God melt the heart, break it under a sense of sin, and
hence compose it to a meek, peaceful humility; but the discon-
tented spirit is an unbroken, proud, imperious spirit. The sights
of God purify the soul, refine it from the dross of this vile world,
make it daily aspire to a conformity unto the pure and spiritual
nature of God. But a discontented spirit, is a sensual, terrene
spirit (for what, but such objects are the usual matter of most
men's discontents?) taking sensuality in its just latitude, it is a
low dunghill spirit, fit for nothing but to rake and scrabble in the
dirt.
I insist upon this, apprehending (what deserves more lament-
ation than it hath observations,) that too many annex a profess-
ion of eminent godliness and spirituality, to an indulged, queru-
lous, impatient temper of spirit; join a splendid appearance of
piety, to an unreformed perverse frowardness (which agree as
well as a jewel of gold to a swine's snout) nothing pleases them;
their mercies are not worth the acknowledgement; their afflic-
tions intolerable, not to be borne. They fall out and quarrel with
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
143
all occurrences, actions, events; neither man, nor God doth any
thing good in their sight. The world is not well governed; no-
thing falls out well as to themselves. What can possibly be
thought on more repugnant to the knowledge of God, the grand
design of all religion, and the very spirit of the gospel, than this
temper? Which way do these tend and aim, but to lead souls to
blessedness; to bring them into a peaceful, happy, satisfied state
and frame? and must we, because that end cannot be attained
here, therefore go the quite contrary way? or pretend we are
going to heaven with our backs turned upon it? Sure the disco-
veries God now makes of himself to us, and by which he im-
presses his likeness upon his own (though they ultimately design
our satisfaction and blessedness in heaven, as intermediate there-
unto; they aim at the bringing us into a heaven upon earth; to
form us unto a life agreeable, and that hath analogy with that of
heaven; unto which nothing is more analogous in our present
state, than that peace and serenity which result from divine
knowledge and holiness; nothing more inconsistent, than a pee-
vish, fretful, turbulent spirit. The one is a participation of a
bright and mild light from heaven, the other, of a dark and ra-
ging fire from hell. It is only God's face, his glorious likeness
reflected on our souls, that shall satisfy hereafter, and make hea-
ven, heaven.
He doth not now wholly conceal himself from us,
not altogether hide his face. The shining of the same face (in
what degree he now vouchsafes it) will make this earth a heaven
One glance towards him may transmit a lively pleasant lus-
tre upon our spirits: they looked on him, and were lightened,
Psal. 34. 5. And we live in the expectation of clearer and more
impressive eternal visions. It will become us to express a pre-
sent satisfiedness, proportionable to our present sights and ex-
pectations; and to endeavor daily to see more, and to be more
like God: that we may be daily more and more satisfied; while
we cannot yet attain, to be making gradual approaches towards
that blessed state. By how much any have more of the vision
and likeness of God in their present state, so much they approach
nearer unto satisfaction.
too.
6. We infer; The love of God to his people is great, which
hath designed for them so great, and even a satisfying good. We
cannot overlook the occasion this doctrine gives us, to consider
and contemplate awhile the love of God. If this shall be the
blessedness of his saints, it is a great love that shall be the spring
and source of it. Two things here before our eyes, discover the
greatness of his love :-that it designs satisfaction to the persons
meant and that they shall be satisfied with the divine vision.
and likeness.
(1.) It designs their satisfaction. This is as far as love can
go. It is love to the uttermost: it doth not satisfy itself, till it
satisfy them. It is love to spare an enemy, to relieve a stranger;
144
THE BLESSEDNESS
but to satisfy for ever them that were both; this sure exceeds
all the wonted measures of love. Much love is shewn in the
forgiveness of sin in the supply of necessities; but herein (as the
apostle speaks in another case) is the love of God perfected,as to
its exercise: it hath now perfectly attained its end, when it hath
not left so much as a craving desire, not a wish unsatisfied; the
soul cannot say, "I wish it were better; O that I had but this one
thing more to complete my happiness." It hath neither pretence
nor inclination to think such a thought. Divine love is now at rest.
It was travailing big with gracious designs before; it hath now de-
livered itself. It would rather create new heavens every moment,
than not satisfy: but it hath now done it to the full; the utmost
capacity of the soul is filled up; it can be no happier than it is.
This is love's triumph over all the miseries, wants, and desires
of a languishing soul: the appropriate, peculiar glory of divine
love. If all the excellencies of the whole creation besides, were
contracted into one glorious creature, it would never be capable
of this boast, I have satisfied one soul. The love of God leaves
none unsatisfied, but the proud despisers of it. Now is the eter-
nal sabbath of love. Now it enters into rest, having finished all
its works; it views them over now with delight, for lo! they are
all good; its works of pardon, of justification and adoption; its
works of regeneration, of conversion, and sanctification; its es-
tablishing, quickening, comforting works; they are all good, good
in themselves, and in this their end, the satisfaction and repose
of blessed souls. Now divine love puts on the crown, ascends
the throne, and the many myriads of glorified spirits fall down
about it, and adore: all profess to owe to it the satisfying plea-
sures they all enjoy. Who can consider the unspeakable satis-
faction of those blessed spirits, and not also reflect upon this ex-
alted greatness of divine love!
The
(2.) It is again great love, if we consider wherewith they
shall be satisfied. The sight and participation of the divine glo-
ry, his face, his likeness, his represented and impressed glory.
There may be great love that never undertakes, nor studies to
satisfy all the desires of the persons we cast our love upon, es-
pecially where nothing will satisfy but high and great matters.
The love of God knows no difficulties; nor can be overset.
greater the performance or vouchsafement, the more suitable to
divine love. It hath resolved to give the soul a plenary satis-
faction, perfectly to content all its desires; and since nothing
else can do it, but an eternal beholding of the glorious face of
the divine majesty, and a transformation into his own likeness,
that shall not be withheld. Yea, it hath created, refined, enlarg-
ed its capacity on purpose, that it might be satisfied with nothing
less. Great love may sometimes be signified by a glance; the
offered view of a willing face. Thus our Lord Jesus invites his
church to discover her own love, and answer his, Let me see thy
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
145
face, &c. Cant. 2. 14. Love is not more becomingly expressed or
gratified, than by mutual looks, ubi amor, ibi oculus. How great
is that love that purposely lays aside the vail, that never turns
away its own, nor permits the aversion of the beholder's eye
throughout eternity. Now we see in a glass; then face to face
as if never weary of beholding on either part; but on that part
the condescension lies, is the transcendent admirable love. That
a generous beneficent, the other (till it be satisfied here) a cra-
ving, indigent love. And how inexpressible a condescension is
this? Poor wretches! many of whom, possibly, were once so
low, that a strutting grandee would have thought himself affront-
ed by their look, and have met with threatening rebukes by their
over-daring venturous eye; lo now they are permitted (to stand
before princes; that is a mean thing) to feed their eyes with di-
vine glory, to view the face of God. He sets them before his
face for ever. And that eternal vision begets in them an eternal
likeness; they behold not a glorious God with deformed souls;
that would render them a perpetual abomination and torment to
themselves. Love cannot permit that heaven should be their
affliction; that they should have cause to loath and be weary of
themselves in that presence. It satisfies them, by clothing and
filling them with glory; by making them partake of the divine
likeness, as well as behold it. It is reckoned a great expression
of a complying love, but to give a picture; when the parties loved
only permit themselves to view in a mute representation a vica-
rious face. This is much more a vital image (as before) God's
own living-likeness propagated in the soul; the inchoation of it is
called the divine love, the seed of God. What amazing love is
this, of the great God to a worm! not to give over till he have
assimilated it to his own glory; till it appear as a ray of light
begotten of the Father of lights! Every one, saith the apostle,
that doth righteousness is born of him; 1 John. 2. 29. and then
it follows, behold, what manner of love-3. 1. to be the sons of
God; to be like him, to see him as he is, &c. How great a word
is that (spoken in reference to our present state)—to make us
partakers of his holiness. Heb. 12. 10.
Heb. 12. 10. And (as well it might)
it is instanced as an effect and argument of love, (for sure chast-
ening itself, abstracted from that end of it, doth not import love)
whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth-and then by and by, in
the same series and line of discourse is added—to make us par-
takers of his holiness. Love always either supposes similitude,
or intends it; and is sufficiently argued by it either way. And
sure, the love of God cannot be more directly expressed, than
in his first intending to make a poor soul like him, while he loves
it with compassion; and then imprinting and perfecting that like-
ness, that he may love it with cternal delight. Love is here the
first and the last, the beginning and end in all this business.
VOL. I.
19
146
THE BLESSEDNESS
CHAPTER XIV.
7. Inference. That since this blessedness is limited to a qualified subject “I
"I
in righteousness," the unrighteous are necessarily left excluded. 8. Infer-
ence. That righteousness is no vain thing, in as much as it hath so happy
an issue, and ends so well.
7. Considering this blessedness is not common but limited to a
qualified subject "I in righteousness," a person clothed in right-
eousness it evidently follows, the unrighteous are necessarily
excluded and shut out, can have no part nor portion in this
blessedness. The same thing that the apostle tells us, without
an inference; Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not in-
herit the kingdom of God, &c. (1 Cor. 6. 9.) intimating that to
be a most confessed known thing: know ye not? is it possible
ye can be ignorant of this! The natural necessity of what hath
been here inferred, hath been argued already from the conside-
ration of the nature of this blessedness. The legal necessity of
it, arising from the divine will and law, is that I mainly intend at
present. By such a necessity also, they are excluded, who by
God's rule (according to which the supreme judgment must be
managed) shall be found unrighteous: those that come not up to
the terms of the gospel-covenant; never accepted the offers, nor
submitted to the commands of it; and that hence consequently
are unrelated to Christ, and ununited to him; no way capable
of advantage by his most perfect and all-sufficient righteousness,
that alone fully answers all the exactions and demands of the
covenant of works: and so, who are at last found unrighteous
by the old law and the new, the law both of the Creator and
Redeemer too. There is the same necessity these should be ex-
cluded, as that God should be just and true. The word is gone
forth of his mouth in righteousness, and cannot return. He did
not dally with sinners, when he settled those constitutions, whence
this necessity results. He is not a man, that he should lie; nor
the son of man, that he should repent. A heathen understood
so much of the nature of God.
I have thought sometimes, with much wonder, of the stupid
folly of unsanctified hearts; they are even confounded in their
own wishes; and would have (in order to their security) they
know not what. Were the question faithfully put to the very
heart of such a one, what wouldst thou have done in order to thy
eternal safety from divine wrath and vengeance? would not the
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
147
;
answer be, O that God would recall those severe constitutions he
hath made; and not insist so strictly on what he hath required
in the gospel, in order to the salvation of sinners. But foolish
wretch! dost thou know what thou sayest! wouldst thou have
God repeal the gospel, that thou mayest be the more secure? in
what a case art thou then? Hast thou no hope if the gospel
stand in force? what hope wilt thou have if it do not? Must
the hopes of all the world be ruined to establish thine? and yet
leave them involved in the common ruin too? What, but the
gospel gives the least hope to apostate sinners? There is now
hope for thee in the gospel-promise, if thou return to God. Let
the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
and let him turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him
and to our God, and he will abundantly pardon. Isa. 55. 7. But
take away the gospel, and where art thou? Were it possible for
thee to repent, and become a new man; what settles the connex-
ion between repentance and salvation, but the gospel promise?
Will the violated law of works accept thy repentance instead of
obedience? Doth it not expressly preclude any such expecta-
tion? Doth it give any ground to look for any thing but death
after sin? Thou must therefore fly to the gospel, or yield thy-
self lost. And know, it contains none but faithful and true say-
ings, that have more stability in them than the foundations of
heaven and earth: therefore expect nothing to be altered for
thy sake. The gospel constitution was settled long before thou
wast born: thou comest too late with thy exceptions (if thou
hadst any) against it. Remember therefore this is one of the
unalterable determinations of this gospel, without holiness thou
shalt never see God, or (which amounts to the same) thou
canst not behold his face but in righteousness. There is no word
in all the Bible of more certain truth than this. In this also how
apt are sinners foolishly to entangle themselves! The gospel is
true, and to be believed, till they meet with something that
crosses them, and goes against the hair, and then they hope it is
not so. But vain man! if once thou shake the truth of God,
what wilt thou stay thyself upon? Is God true when he promi-
ses? and is he not as true when he threatens? If that be a true
saying, "Say to the righteous, it shall be well with him,"—is not
that as much to be regarded, "Woe to the wicked, it shall be
ill with him? The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon
him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him."
Are not these of equal authority? If thou hadst any reason
to hope thou mayest be happy though thou never be right-
eous; is there not as much reason to fear thou mightest be mi-
serable though thou be; since the one is as much against the flat
express word of God as the other? Let not thy love to sin be-
tray thee out of all religion and thy wits together. Wherein.
wilt thou believe one upon the bare value of his word, that will
148
THE BLESSEDNESS
lie to thee in any thing? Yea, and as it is the same authority
that is affronted in every command, whence disobedience to one
is a breach of all; so is the same veracity denied in every truth,
and the disbelief of one belies all; and wilt thou believe him in
any thing, thou hast proclaimed a liar in every thing? Therefore,
so little hast thou gained by disbelieving the divine revelation in
this thing, that thou hast brought thyself to this miserable dilem-
ma; If the word of God be false, thou hast no foundation of any
faith left thee, if it be true, it dooms thee to eternal banishment
from his blessed face, while thou remainest in thy unrighteousness.
It will not be thy advantage then to disbelieve this gospel-record,
but to consider it, and take it to heart; it will prove never the
less true at last, for that thou wilt not believe it, Shall thy unbelief
make the truth of God of none effect? And if thou wouldst
but reasonably consider the case, methinks thou shouldst soon
be convinced. Since thou acknowledgest (as I suppose thee to
do) that there are two states of men in the other world, a state
of blessedness, and a state of misery; and two sorts of men in
this world, the righteous, and the unrighteous: let thy reason
and conscience now judge who shall be allotted to the one state
and who to the other. Sure, if thou acknowledge a righteous
Judge of all the world, thou canst not think he will turn men
promiscuously into heaven or hell at random, without distinction:
much less canst thou be so absurd and mad, as to think all the
unrighteous shall be saved, and the righteous perish. And then
what is left thee to judge but that which I am now urging upon
thee, that when the righteous shall be admitted to the vision of
God's blessed face, the unrighteous shall be driven forth into
outer darkness.
It may be some here will be ready to say, "But to what
pur-
pose is all this, they were of the same mind before, and cannot
think that any one would ever say the contrary." Nor do I
think so either; but it is one thing not to believe a conclusion
to be true, and another to profess a contrary belief: and one thing to
believe a conclusion, another to think we believe it. Men often
know not their own minds. In practical matters, it is best seen
what a man's belief is by practice: for when any profess to believe
this or that practical truth, relating to their salvation, if they be-
lieve it not practically, that is, with such a belief as will command
their suitable practice, it matters not what belief they are of, or
whether they were of that judgment or no : yea, it will prove in the
issue better for them they had been of another, when their own pro-
fessed belief shall be urged against them. But let us consider a
little, how in practical matters of less concernment we would esti-
mate a man's belief. You meet a traveller upon the way, who
tells you, the bridge over such an unpassable river is broken
down, and that if you venture you perish; if you believe him, you
return; if you hold on, he reasonably concludes you believe
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
149
him not; and will therefore be apt to say to you, if you will not
believe me you may make trial. Your physician tells you a dis-
ease is growing upon you, that in a short time will prove incura-
ble and mortal, but if you presently use the means he shall pre-
scribe, it is capable of an easy remedy: how would you your-
self have your belief of your physician judged of in this case?
Would you expect to be believed, if you should say, you do not
at all distrust your physician's integrity and judgment, but yet
you resolve not to follow his direction; unless you would have
us believe too, that you are weary of your life, and would fain
be rid of it? There is no riddle or mystery in this. How ri-
diculous would men make themselves, if in matters of common
concernment they should daily practice directly contrary to their
professed belief? How few would believe them serious, or in
their wits? But however, call this believing, or what you will,
we contend not about the name; the belief of such a thing can
no further do you good, you can be nothing the better for it,
further than as it engages you to take a course suitable and con-
sequent to such a belief. To believe that there is a hell, and
run into it; that unrighteousness persisted in will damn you, and
yet will live in it! To what purpose is it, to make your boasts
of this faith? But since you are willing to call this believing;
all the foregoing reasoning is to engage you to consider what
you believe. Do you believe that unrighteousness will be the
death of your soul; will eternally separate you from God, and
the presence of his glory? and when you have reasoned the
matter with yourself, you find it to be certainly so: should not
such a thing be more deeply pondered? The bare proposal
of an evident truth commands present assent; but if I further
bend my mind to reason out the same thing to myself, I am oc-
casioned to take notice of the grounds, dependencies, the habi-
tudes of it, what it rests upon, and whither it tends, and thence
more discern its importance, and of what moment it is, than I
should have done, if upon first view I had assented only, and
dismissed it my thoughts. And yet is it possible, you should
think this to be true, and not think it a most important truth? Is
it a small matter in your account, whether you shall be blesssed
or miserable for ever? whether you be saved or perish eternally?
Or is it considered by you, according as the weight of the mat-
ter requires, that as you are found righteous or unrighteous, so
will it everlastingly fare with you?
You may possibly say, you already conclude yourself righteous
therefore no further employ your thoughts about it. But me-
thinks, you should hardly be able however to put such a thing
out of your thoughts; while as yet the final determination is
not given in the case. If a man have a question yet pending,
concerning his life or estate; though his business be never so
clear, he will hardly forget it, the trial not being yet past. And
150
THE BLESSEDNESS
though in this matter, you have no reason to suspect error or
corruption in your Judge, (through which many honest causes
may miscarry in a human judicature) yet have you no reason to
suspect yourself? If the Holy Spirit hath assured you, he hath
not stupified you; but as you have then the less to fear, you have
the more of love and joy. Therefore you will not thence mind
such a concernment the less, but with the more delight; and there-
fore also, most probably, with the more frequency and intension.
What a pleasure will it be to review evidences, and say, Lo!
here are the mediums by which I make out my title to the eter-
nal inheritance. Such and such characters give me the confi-
dence to number myself among God's righteous ones. And do
you lead that heavenly raised life? do you live in those sweet
and ravishing comforts of the Holy Ghost, that may bespeak you
one whom he hath sealed up to the day of redemption? If you
pretend not to any such certainty, but rely upon your own judg-
ment of your case; are you sure you are neither mistaken in the
notion of the righteousness required, nor in the application of
it to your own soul? Possibly, you may think yourself, be-
cause in your ordinary dealing you wrong no man (yourself be-
ing judge,) a very righteous person. But evident it is, when
the Scripture uses this term as descriptive of God's own people,
and to distinguish between them that shall be saved and perish,
it takes it in that comprehensive sense before explained. And
however, it requires at least much more of thee, under other
expressions, as thou canst hardly be so ignorant but to know.
And do but use thy reason here a little, and demand of thyself;
is he to be accounted a righteous person, that thinks it fit to
avoid wronging a man, but makes no conscience at all of wrong-
ing God? More particularly: Is it righteous, to live all thy
days in a willing ignorance of the Author of thy being, never
once to inquire, Where is God my Maker? Job. 35. 10. Is
it righteous to forget him days without number, not to have him
from day to day in all thy thoughts? Is it righteous to estrange
thyself from Him, and live as without Him in the world, while
thou livest, movest and hast thy being in Him; not to glorify
Him in whose hands thy breath is? to be a lover of pleasure more
than God? a worshipper, in thy very soul, of the creature more
than the Creator! Is it righteous to harden thy heart against
his fear and love? to live under his power, and never rever-
ence it; his goodness and never acknowledge it? to affront his
authority, to belie his truth, abuse his mercy, impose upon
patience, defy his justice; to exalt thy own interest against his;
the trifling petite interest of a silly worm, against the great all-
comprehending interest of the common Lord of all the world?
to cross his will, to do thy own? to please thyself, to the dis-
ᎥᏝ
pleasing of Him? whence hadst thou thy measures of justice,
this be just?
his
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
151
Again, is it righteous to deny the Lord that bought thee, to
neglect that great salvation which He is the author of? And
whereas He came to bless thee in turning thee from thine iniqui-
ties, wilfully to remain still in an accursed servitude to sin?
when He was made manifest to destroy the works of the devil,
still to yield thyself a captive at his will? whereas He died that
thou mightest not any longer live to thyself, but to Him that died
for thee, and rose again; and that He might redeem thee from
thy vain conversation, and that thou art so expressly told, that
such as still lead sensual lives, mind earthly things, have not
their conversation in heaven, are enemies to the cross of Christ.
Is it no unrighteousness, that in these respects thy whole life
should be nothing else but a constant contradiction to the very
design of his dying? a perpetual hostility, a very tilting at his
cross? Is there no unrighteousness in thy obstinate infidelity,
that wickedly denies belief to his glorious truths, acceptance of
his gracious offers, subjection to his holy laws? No unrighteous-
ness in thy obstinate, remorseless impenitency? thy heart that
connot repent? that melts not, while a crucified Jesus, amidst
his agonies and dying pangs, cries to thee from the cross, O sin-
ner, enough, thy hard heart breaks mine! yield at last, and
turn to God. Is it righteous, to live as no way under law to
Christ? to persist in actual rebellion against his just government,
which he died, and revived, aud rose again, to establish over
the living and the dead? yea, and that while thou pretendest
thyself a christian? In a word: Is it righteous to tread under
foot the Son of God, to vilify his blood, and despise his Spirit;
Is this the righteousness that thou talkest of? Are these thy
qualifications for the everlasting blessedness? If thou say, thou
confessest thou art in thyself, in these several respects, alto-
gether unrighteous: but thou hopest the righteousness of Christ
will be sufficient to answer for all; no doubt Christ's righteous-
ness is abundantly available to all the ends for which it was
intended by the Father and Him; but it shall never answer all
the ends that a foolish wicked heart will fondly imagine to itself.
In short, it serves to excuse thy non-performance of, and
stands instead of thy perfect sinless obedience to, the law of
works; but it serves not instead of thy performance of what is
required of thee, as the condition of the gospel-covenant. That
is, It shall never supply the room of faith, repentance, regene-
ration, holiness, the loving of Christ above all, and God in
Him; so as to render these unnecessary, or salvation possible
without them. There is not one iota, or tittle in the Bible,
that so much as intimates an unregenerate person, an unbe-
liever, an impenitent or unholy person, shall be saved by
Christ's righteousness; but enough to the contrary, every one
knows that hath the least acquaintance with the Scriptures.
Vain man! what, is Christ divided and divided against Himself;
152
THE BLESSEDNESS
Christ without, against Christ within! His sufferings on the
cross and foregoing obedience, against his Spirit and government
in the soul? Did Christ die to take away the necessity of our
being christians? And must his death serve not to destroy sin
out of the world, but Christianity? Who hath taught thee so
wickedly to misunderstand the design of Christ's dying? And
when the Scripture so plainly tells thee, that God so loved the
world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever be-
lieveth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.
John. 3. 16. And that he became the author of eternal salva-
tion to them that obey Him; (Heb. 5. 9.) yea, and that He
will come in flaming fire to take vengeance on them that know
and obey Him not. What should induce thee to think thou
mayest be saved by Him, whether thou believest and obeyest or
not? No, if ever thou think to see God, and be happy in Him,
thou must have a righteousness in thee resembling his; the
very product, the thing wrought in the work of regeneration.
If ye know that He is righteous, ye know that every one that
doth righteousness is born of him. Whereupon follows the de-
scription of the blessedness of such righteous ones, in the be-
ginning of the next chapter,-They are sons-they shall be
like, &c.
So that in a word, without some sight of God here,
there is no seeing Him hereafter; without some likeness to Him
now, none hereafter. And such as are destitute of that heart-
conformity to the gospel, wherein the evangelical righteousness
stands, are so far from it, that we may say to them as our Sa-
viour to the Jews, Ye have neither heard his voice, nor seen
his shape, (John. 5. 37.) that is, you have never had a right no-
tion, or any the least true glimpse of him; your hearts are whol-
ly destitute of all divine impressions whatsoever.
8. We may further infer, from this qualification of the sub-
ject of blessedness, that righteousness is no vain thing. That
is not in vain, that ends so well, and hath so happy an issue at
last. Scripture tells us, that the labor of the righteous tendeth
to life: (Prov. 10. 16.) and that we may understand it of their
labor as they are righteous, we are more plainly told, that right-
eousness tendeth to life; (ch. 11. 19.) and that to them that
sow righteousness shall be a sure reward. (ver. 18.) that the
righteous shall shine as the sun in the kingdom of their Father.
(Matt. 13. 43.) the righteous into eternal life. Ch. 25. 46.
And we here see that righteousness ends in the blessed sight
of God's glorious face, in being satisfied with the divine like-
ness. Foolish sinners are justly upbraided that they spend
their labor for that which satisfies not; (Isa. 55. 2.) take much
pains to no purpose; such are all the works, of sin, toilsome,
fruitless; what fruit had ye of those things (namely, which ye
wrought when you were free from righteousness) whereof ye
are now ashamed; for the end of those things is death. But
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
153
(it follows) being now made free from sin, and become servants
to God (which is paraphased above by servants to righteousness)
ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life.
Rom. 6. 20-22. The fruit is a continual increase of holiness,
a growing more and more like God; till at last everlasting life,
satisfaction with his likeness, do crown and consummate all.
*
:
You have now what to answer to the atheist's profane query,
What profit is it to serve God? to what purpose to lead so strict
and precise a life? You may now see to what purpose it is;
and whereunto godliness (which righteousness here includes) is
profitable as having, besides what it entitles to here, the promise
of that life which is to come. There needs no more to discover
any thing not to be vain (inasmuch as nothing can be said to be
so, but in reference to an end, as being good for nothing) than
the eviction of these two things:-that it aims at a truly wor-
thy and valuable end; and-that its tendency thereto is di-
rect and certain. In the present case, both these are obvious
enough at the first view. For as to the former of them all
the world will agree, without disputing the matter, that the last
end of man (that is, which he ultimately propounds to himself)
is his best good: and that he can design no further good to him-
self than satisfaction; nothing after or beyond that and what
can afford it, if the vision and participation of the divine glory
do not? As to the latter: besides all that assurance given by
Scripture-constitution to the righteous man, concerning his fu-
ture reward, let the consciences be consulted of the most be-
sotted sinners, in any lucid interval, and they will give their
suffrage (Balaam, that so earnestly followed the reward of un-
righteousness, not excepted,) that the way of righteousness is
that only likely way to happiness; and would therefore desire to
die, at least the righteous man's death, and that their latter end
should be like his. So is wisdom (I might call it righteousness
too; the wicked man is the Scripture fool, and the righteous
the wise man) justified not by her children only, but by her
enemies also. And sure, it is meet that she should be more
openly justified by her children, and that they learn to silence
and repress those mis-giving thoughts; Surely I have washed
my hands in vain, &c. Psal. 73. 13. And be steadfast, un-
moveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch
as they know their labor is not in vain in the Lord. 1 Cor. 15.
58.
VOL. 1.
20
154
THE BLESSEDNESS
CHAPTER XV.
Two other inferences, from the consideration of the season of this blessed-
ness: The former, that inasmuch as this blessedness is not attained in this
life, the present happiness of saints must in a great part consist in hope.
The latter, that great is the wisdom and sagacity of the righteous man,
which waves a present temporary happiness and chooses, that which is
distant and future.
Inasmuch as the season of this blessedness is not on this side
the grave, nor expected by saints till they awake; we may fur-
ther infer,
9. That their happiness in the mean time doth very much
consist in hope; or that hope must needs be of very great ne-
cessity and use to them in their present state for their comfort
and support. It were not otherwise possible to subsist in the
absence and want of their highest good, while nothing in this
lower world is, as to kind and nature, suitable to their desires,
or makes any colorable overture to them of satisfaction and
happiness. Others (as the psalmist observes) have their por-
tion in this life; that good, which as to the species and kind of
it, is most grateful to them, is present, under view, within sight;
and (as the apostle Rom. 8. 24.) Hope that is seen is not
hope, for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for it? But
those whose more refined spirits, having received the first-fruits
of the Holy Spirit of God, prompt them to groan after some-
thing beyond time, and above this sublunary sphere; of them
the apostle there tells us, that they are saved by hope. They
(as if he should say) subsist by it; they were never able to
hold out, were it not for their hope; and that a hope too, be-
yond this life, as is the hope of a christian; if in this life only
we had hope in Christ, &c. 1 Cor. 15. 19. The hope of a
christian, as such, is suitable to its productive cause, the resur-
rection of Christ from the dead; begotten to a lively hope by
the resurrection, &c. 1 Pet. 1.3. Thence is it the hope of a
renewed, never-dying life, the hope of a blessed immortality;
whereof Christ's resurrection was a certain argument and
pledge.
Indeed the new creature is, ab origine, originally, and all
along a hoping creature, both in its primum and its porro esse ;
It is conceived, and formed and nursed up in hope. In its pro-
duction, and in its progress towards perfection, it is manifestly
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
155
influenced thereby. In the first return of the soul to God, hope
being then planted as a part of the holy, gracious nature, now
manifestly discovers itself, when the soul begins to act, (as turn-
ing after the reception of the divine influence, is its act) hope
insinuates itself into (or induces rather) that very act.
Re-
turning is not the act of a despairing, but hoping soul. It is
God apprehended as reconcileable, that attracts and wins it;
while he is looked upon as an implacable enemy, the soul natu-
rally shuns him, and comes not nigh, till drawn with those cords
of a man, the bands of love. Hos. 11. 4. While it says, there is
no hope, it says withal (desperately enough) I have loved stran-
gers, and after them will I go. But if there be any hope in Is-
rael, concerning this thing: if it can yet apprehend God willing
to forgive, then let us make a covenant, &c. Ezr. 10. 2. 3.
This presently draws the hovering soul into a closure and league
with him. And thus is the union continued. Unsteadfastness
in the covenant of God, is resolved into this not setting, (Psal.
78. 7—13.) or fixing of hope in him, or (which amounts to the
same) setting of hope in God is directed as a means to steadfast-
ness of spirit with him, and a keeping of his covenant. Re-
volting souls are encouraged to return to the Lord upon this
consideration, that salvation is hoped for in vain from any other.
(Jer. 3. 22. 23.) the case being indeed the same, in all after-
conversions as in the first. God as multiplying to pardon, and
still retaining the same name, the Lord, the Lord gracious and
merciful, Exod. 34. 6. (which name in all the severals that
compose and make it up, is in his Christ) invites back to him
the backsliding sinner, and renews his thoughts of returning.
And so is he afterwards under the teachings of grace led on by
hope, through the whole course of religion towards the future
glory. Grace appears, teaching sinners to deny ungodliness, &c.
(Tit. 2. 11. 12. 13.) and in the looking for the blessed hope,
the glorious appearing of the great God, &c. So do they keep
themselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our
Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. Thus is the new creature
formed in hope, and nourished in hope, and if its eye were upon
pardon at first, it is more upon the promised glory afterwards.
And yet that last end hath in a degree its attractive influence
upon it, from the first formation of it; it is even then taught to
design for glory. It is begotten to the lively hope, (where
though hope be taken objectively, as the apposition shews of the
following words, to an inheritance, yet the act is evidently con-
noted; for the thing hoped for, is meant under that notion, as
hoped for) and its whole following course is an aiming at glory;
a seeking glory, honor, immortality, &c. Rom. 2. 7. Thus is the
work of sanctification carried on; he that hath this hope puri-
fieth himself. 1 John. 3. 3. Thus are losses sustained; The
spoiling of goods taken joyfully through the expectation of the
156
THE BLESSEDNESS
better and enduring substance. Heb. 10. 34. The most ha-
zardous services undertaken, even an apostleship to a despised
Christ, In the hope of eternal life, which God that cannot lie
hath promised. Tit. 1. 1. 2. All difficulties encountered and
overcome, while the helmet is the hope of salvation. 1 Thes. 5.
3. All worldly evils are willingly endured; and all such good
things quitted and forsaken, for Christ's sake and his elects'.
And if the question be asked, (as it was once of Alexander,
when so frankly distributing his treasures among his followers)
what do you reserve for yourself? The resolved christian makes
(with him) that short brave reply, HOPE. He lives upon
things future and unseen. The objects any one converses with
most, and in which his life is as it were bound up, are suitable to
the ruling principles of life in him. They that are after the
flesh, do savour the things of the flesh; they that are after the
Spirit, the things of the Spirit. Rom. 8. 5. The principle of
the fleshy life is sense: The principle of the spiritual life is
faith. Sense is a mean, low, narrow, incomprehensive princi-
ple, limited to a point, this centre of earth, and rò vũv this now of
time; it can reach no higher than terrene things, nor further
than present things: so brutish is the life of him that is led by
it; wholly confined to matter and time. But the righteous live
by faith. Their faith governs and maintains their life. They
steer not their course according to what they see, but according
to what they believe and their daily sustenance is by the same
kind of things. Their faith influences not their actions only, but
their comforts and enjoyments. They subsist by the things they
believe, even invisible and eternal things; but it is by the inter-
vening exercise of hope, whose object is the same. The apostle
having told us from the prophet, that the just shall live by faith,
(Heb. 10. 38.) presently subjoins a description of that faith they
live by, namely, that it is the substance of things hoped for, and
the evidence of things not seen; (Heb. 11. 1.) it substantiates
and realizes, evidences and demonstrates those glorious ob-
jects, so far above the reach and sphere of sense. It is constant-
ly sent out to forage in the invisible regions for the maintenance
of this life; and thence fetches in the provisions upon which
hope feeds, to the strengthening of the heart, the renewing of
life and spirits. Our inward man (saith the apostle 2. Cor. 4.
16. 18.) is renewed day by day; while we look, or take aim
(which is next in the series of the discourse, for the interve-
ning verse is manifestly parenthetical) not at the things that are
seen, but at the things that are not seen; for the things that are
seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal.
And the word dxoroúvwv here rendered look doth plainly signify
the act of hope as well as that of faith; for it doth not import a
mere intuition or beholding, a taking notice or assenting only that
there are such things, but a designing or scoping at them (which
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
157
is the very word) with an appropriative eye; as things that not-
withstanding their distance, or whatsoever imaginable difficulty,
are hoped to be attained to and enjoyed. And here are evident-
ly the distinct parts of faith and hope in this business; faith, upon
the authority and credit of the divine word and promise, per-
suades the heart that there is such a glorious state of things re-
served for the saints in general, (faith can go no further for the
word of promise goes no further) and so serves instead of eyes
in the divine light, to view those glories; or it presents them
(as so many substantial realities,) demonstrates them, submits
them to view, whence hope reaches forth to them; contends
against and triumphs over all attending difficulties, and possesses
them; gives the soul an early anticipated fruition of them, for
its present support and relief. So that it rejoices in the hope of
the glory of God. Rom. 5. 2.—12. 12. It might well there-
fore be said, I had fainted, if I had not believed, (Psal. 27. 13.
14.) or who can express how sad my case had been, if I had not
believed? for there is an elegant aposiopesis in the Hebrew text,
the words "I had fainted" being supplied in the translation. If
I had not believed, what had become of me then? As though
he had said, Inasmuch as faith feeds, as it were, those hopes
which more immediately the Lord makes use of, for the strength-
ening his people's hearts, as it was intimated in the following
words, compared with Psal. 31. 24. In the present case; faith
ascertains the heart, of the truth of the promises, so that thus
the soul states the case to itself; Though I have not walked to
and fro in those upper regions, nor taken a view of the heavenly
inheritance; though I have not been in the third heavens, and
seen the ineffable glory; yet the gospel-revelation, which hath
brought life and immortality to light, the word of the eternal God,
who hath told me this is the state of things in the other world,
cannot but be true; my faith may therefore be to me instead of
eyes; and the divine testimony must supply the place of light;
both together give, methinks, a fair prospect of those far distant,
glorious objects which I have now in view. Now this awakens
hope, and makes it revive, and run to embrace what faith hath
discovered in the promise: In hope of eternal life, which God
that cannot lie hath promised. Tit. 1. 2. Psal. 119. 49. It is
the word of God that causes the soul to hope, (that is believed,
for disbelieved, it signifies nothing with it) and that not only as
it contains a narration, but a promise concerning the future es-
tate. I may without much emotion of heart, hear from a travel-
ler the description of a pleasant country, where I have not been;
but if the Lord of that country give me, besides the account of
it, an assurance of enjoying rich and ample possessions there,
this presently begets a hope, the pleasure whereof would much
relieve a present distressed estate; and which nothing, but that
of actual possession can exceed. That it is not more so with us
158
THE BLESSEDNESS
here, admits of no excuse.
Is God less to be believed than a
man? Will we deny him the privilege of being able to disco-
ver his mind, and the truth of things credible, which we ordina-
rily allow to any one that is not a convicted liar? Christ ex-
pects his disciples should very confidently assure themselves of
the preparations made for them in another world, upon that very
ground alone, that he had not told them the contrary: Let not
your hearts be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in me.
In my Father's house are many mansions, if it were not so, I
would have told you. I go to prepare, &c. (John 14. 1. 2.)
intimating to them, they ought to have that opinion of his plain-
ness and sincerity, as never to imagine he would have proselyted
them to a religion that should undo them in this world, if there
were not a sufficient recompense awaiting them in the other, but
he would certainly have let them known the worst of their
case: much more might he expect, they should be confident
upon his so often and expressly telling them, that so it is. If
his silence might be a ground of hope, much more his word.
And surely so grounded a hope cannot but be consolatory, and
relieving in this sad interval, till the awakening hour.
10. Since this blessedness of the righteous is, as to the season
of it, future, not expected till they awake, we may infer, that it
is great wisdom and sagacity that guides the righteous man's
choice; while he waves a present and temporary, and chooses
this future and expected blessedness. It is true, that philosophy
hath been wont to teach us, that choice or election hath no place
about the end, because that is but one, and choice always implies
a competition. But that very reason evinces, that in our present
state and case, choice must have place about the end. That
philosophy might have suited better the state of innocent Adam;
when there was nothing to blind and bribe a man's judgment, or
occasion it to deliberate about the supreme end, (then it might
be truly said, deliberation itself was a defection,) nor to pervert
and misincline his will; and so its action, in proposing its end,
would be simple intention, not choice. But so hath the apostacy
and sin of man blinded and befooled him, that he is at a loss
about nothing more than what is the chief good. And though
saint Augustine (De Civit. Dei. lib. 19.) reduce Varro's two
hundred and eighteen differing sects about it to twelve, that is
enough to prove (but daily experience doth it more convincingly
and sadly) a real, though most unjust competition. Therefore a
sinner can never be blessed without choosing his blessedness,
and therein it highly concerns him to choose aright, and that a
spirit of wisdom and counsel guide his choice. While man had
not as yet fallen, to deliberate whether he should adhere to God
or no, was a gradual declension, the very inchoation of his fall;
but having fallen, necessity makes that a virtue which was a
wickedness before. There is no returning to God without con-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
159
sidering our ways. The so much altered state of the case, quite
alters the nature of the things. It was a consulting to do evil
before; now to do good. And hence also, choosing the Lord to
be our God, Josh. 24. 15. becomes a necessary duty. Which is
to make choice of this very blessedness, that consists in the
knowledge, likeness, and enjoyment. And now, inasmuch as
the blessedness is not fully attained by the longing soul, till time
expire and its eternity commence; here is a great discovery of
that wisdom which guides this happy choice. This is great wis-
dom in prospection; in taking care of the future; and at how
much the further distance one can provide, so much the greater
reputation of wisdom is justly acquired to him; yea, we seem to
place the sum of practical wisdom in this one thing, while we
agree to call it providence, under the contracted name of pru-
dence. The wise man makes it at least an evidence or part of
wisdom, when he tells us, the prudent foreseeth, &c. Prov. 22. 3.
The righteous man so far excels in this faculty, as that his eye
looks through all the periods of time, and penetrates into eterni-
ty, recommends to the soul a blessedness of that same stamp and
alloy, that will endure and last for ever. It will not content him
to be happy for an hour, or for any space that can have an end;
after which it shall be possible to him to look back and recount
with himself how happy he was once: nor is he so much solicit-
ous what his present state be, if he can but find he is upon safe
terms as to his future and eternal state. As for me, saith the
psalmist, (he herein sorts and severs himself from them whose
portion was in this life,) I shall behold—I shall be satisfied, when
I awake; Est bene non potuit dicere, dicit erit, he could not say
it was well with him, but shall be, as though he had said, Let the
purblind, shortsighted sensualist embrace this present world, who
can see no further: let me have my portion in the world to come;
may my soul always lie open to the impression of the powers of
the coming world; and in this, so use every thing as to be under
the power of nothing. What are the pleasures of sin, that are but
for a season; or what the sufferings of this now, this moment of
affliction, to the glory that shall be revealed, to the exceeding
and eternal glory? He considers, patient afflicted godliness will
triumph at last, when riotous, raging wickedness shall lament for
ever. He may for a time weep and mourn, while the world re-
joices; he may be sorrowful, but his sorrow shall be turned into
joy, and his joy, none shall take from him. (John 16. 20, 22.)
Surely here is wisdom; this is the wisdom that is from above,
and tends thither. This is to be wise unto salvation. The right-
eous man is a judicious man; he hath in a measure that judgment
(wherein the apostle prays the Philippians might abound, Phil.
1. 6, 10.) to approve things that are excellent, and accordingly
to make his choice. This is a sense (little thought of by the
author) wherein that sober speech of the voluptuous philosopher
160
THE BLESSEDNESS
(Epicurus) is most certainly true, A man cannot live happily,
without living wisely. No man shall ever enjoy the eternal
pleasures hereafter, that in this acquits not himself wisely here,
even in this choosing the better part, that shall never be taken
from him. In this the plain righteous man out-vies the greatest
sophists, the scribe, the disputer, the politician, the prudent mam-
monist, the facetious wit; who in their several kinds, all think
themselves highly to have merited to be accounted wise: and
that this point of wisdom should escape their notice, and be the
principal thing with him, can be resolved into nothing else but
the divine good pleasure! In this contemplation our Lord Jesus
Christ is said to have rejoiced in spirit, (it even put his great
comprehensive soul into an ecstasy,) Father, I thank thee, Lord
of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise
and prudent, and revealed them to babes; even so Father, be-
cause it pleased thee! Luke 10. 21. Here was a thing fit to be
reflected on, as a piece of divine royalty; a part worthy of the
Lord of heaven and earth! And what serious spirit would it not
amaze, to weigh and ponder this case awhile; to see men excell-
ing in all other kinds of knowledge, so far excelled by those they
most contemn, in the highest point of wisdom; such as know
how to search into the most abstruse mysteries of nature; that
can unravel, or see through the most perplexed intrigues of state;
that know how to save their own stake, and secure their private
interest in whatsoever times; yet so little seen (often, for not
many wise) in the matters that concern an eternal felicity! It
puts me in mind of what I find observed by some, dementia
quoad hoc, particular madness as it is called; when persons, in
every thing else, capable of sober rational discourse, when you
bring them to some one thing (that in reference to which they
became distempered at first) they rave and are perfectly mad:
how many that can manage a discourse with great reason and
judgment about other matters, who when you come to discourse
with them about the affairs of practical godliness, and which
most directly tend to that future state of blessedness, they are
as at their wits end, know not what to say; they savour not
those things? These are things not understood, but by such to
whom it is given and surely that given wisdom is the most ex-
cellent wisdom. Sometimes God doth, as it were, so far gratify
the world, as to speak their own language, and call them wise
that affect to be called so, and that wisdom which they would
fain have go under that name; (Moses it is said was skilled in
all the wisdom of Egypt, &c. Acts. 7. 22.) but at other times he
expressly calls those wise men fools, and their wisdom, folly and
madness; or annexes some disgraceful adject for distinction
sake; or applies those appellatives ironically, and in manifest
derision. No doubt, but any such person as was represented in
the parable, would have thought himself to have done the part
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
161
of a very wise man, in entertaining such deliberation and re-
solves, as we find he had there with himself how strange was that
to his ears, Thou fool, this night shall they require thy soul. &c.
Luke. 12. 20. Their wisdom is sometimes said to be foolish; or
else called the wisdom of the flesh, or fleshly wisdom; said to
be earthly, sensual, devilish; they are said to be wise to do
evil; while to do good they have no understanding; they are
brought sometimes as it were upon the stage with their wisdom,
to be the matter of divine triumph; where is the wise? and
that which they account foolishness is made to confound their
wisdom. And indeed do they deserve to be thought wise, that
are so busily intent upon momentary trifles, and trifle with eter-
nal concernments? that prefer vanishing shadows to the ever-
lasting glory? that follow lying vanities, and forsake their own
mercies? Yea, will they not cease to be wise in their own eyes
also, when they see the issue, and reap the fruits of their foolish
choice? when they find the happiness they preferred before this
eternal one is quite over; and nothing remains to them of it,
but an afflictive remembrance? that the torment they were told
would follow, is but now beginning, and without end? when
they hear from the mouth of their impartial judge; Remember,
you in your life-time had your good things, and my faithful ser-
vants their evil; now they must be comforted, and you torment-
ed? when they are told, you have received (Luke 6. 24. 25.)
the consolation; you were full, ye did laugh, now you must
pine, and mourn and weep? Will they not then be as ready to
befool themselves, and say as they, (Wisd. 5. 4.) See those
righteous ones are they whom we sometimes had in derision,
and for a proverb of reproach; we fools counted their life mad-
ness, and that their end was without honor; but now, how are
they numbered among the sons of God, and their lot is among
the saints? They that were too wise before, to mind so mean
a thing as religion (the world through wisdom knew not God;
1 Cor. 1. 21. strange wisdom!) that could so wisely baffle con-
science, and put fallacies upon their own souls; that had so in-
genious shifts to elude conviction, and divert any serious thought
from fastening upon their spirits; that were wont so slily to jeer
holiness, seemed as they meant to laugh religion out of counte-
nance; they will now know, that a circumspect walking, a
faithful redeeming of time, and improving it in order to eternity,
was to do, not as fools, but as wise; and begin to think of them-
selves, now at last, as all wise and sober men thought of them
before.
*
*Folly is joy to him that is destitute of wisdom. Prov. 15.
VOL. 1.
·
21
162
}
THE BLESSEDNESS
CHAPTER XVI.
The other general head of the improvement or use of the doctrine pro-
pounded from the text, containing Secondly, Certain rules or prescrip-
tions of duty connatural thereto. I. That we settle to our minds the true
notion of this blessedness. 2. That we compare the temper of our own
spirits with it, and labor thence to discern whether we may lay claim to
it or no.
Thus far we have an account of the truths to be considered and
weighed that have dependence on the doctrine of the text. We
proceed,
Secondly. To the duties to be practiced and done in reference
thereto, which I shall lay down in the ensuing rules or prescrip-
tions,
1. That we admit and settle the distinct notion of this blessed-
ness in our minds and judgments: that we fix in our own souls,
apprehensions agreeable to the account this scripture hath
given us of it. This is a counsel leading and introductive to the
rest; and which if it obtain with us, will have a general influ-
ence upon the whole course of that practice which the doctrine
already opened calls for. As our apprehensions of this blessed-
ness are more distinct and clear, it may be expected more pow-
erfully to command our hearts and lives. Hence it is, in great
part, the spirits and conversations of christians have so little sa-
vour and appearance of heaven in them. We rest in some gene-
ral and confused notion of it, in which there is little either of
efficacy or pleasure; we descend not into a particular inquiry
and consideration what it is. Our thoughts of it are gloomy and
obscure; and hence it is our spirit is naturally listless and in-
different towards it, and rather contents itself to sit still in a re-
gion all lightsome round about, and among objects it hath some
present acquaintance with, than venture itself forth as into a
new world which it knows but little of. And hence our lives
are low and carnal; they look not as though we were seeking
the heavenly country; and indeed who can be in good earnest
in seeking after an unknown state? This is owing to our negli-
gence and infidelity. The blessed God hath not been shy and
reserved; hath not hidden or concealed from us the glory of the
other world; nor locked up heaven to us; nor left us to the un-
certain guesses of our own imagination, the wild fictions of an
unguided fancy; which would have created as a poetical heaven
only, and have mocked us with false elysiums: but though much
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
163
be yet within the vail, he hath been liberal in his discoveries to
us. Life and immortality are brought to light in the gospel.
The future blessedness (though some refined heathens have had
near guesses at it) is certainly apprehensible by the measure
only of God's revelation of it: for who can determine, with cer-
tainty, of the effects of divine good pleasure, (it is your Father's
good pleasure to give you a kingdom?) Who can tell before-
hand what so free and boundless goodness will do, further than
as he himself discovers it? The discovery is as free as the do-
nation. The things that eye hath not seen, and ear hath not
heard, and which have not entered into the heart of man, God
hath revealed to us by his Spirit: (1 Cor. 2. 6.) and it follows,
ver. 12, We have received the Spirit of God, that we might
know the things freely given us of God. The Spirit is both the
principle of the external revelation, as having inspired the scrip-
tures which foreshew this glory, and of the internal revelation
also, to enlighten blind minds that would otherwise (wagen)
never be able to discover things at so great a distance, see afar
off: therefore called the spirit of wisdom and revelation, by
which the eyes of the understanding are enlightened to know
the hope of that calling, and the riches of the glory of his in-
heritance among the saints, as the iv there is most fitly to be ren-
dered. Eph. 1. 17.
But this internal discovery is made by the mediation and in-
terveniency of the external: therefore having that before our
eyes we are to apply our minds to the study and consideration of
it; and in that way to expect the free illumination of the Holy
Spirit. In the mean time we must charge our ignorance, and
the darkness of our cloudy thoughts, touching these things, upon
our carelessness, that we do not attend; or our incredulity, that
we will not believe what God hath revealed concerning them:
it is therefore a dutiful attention, and reverential faith that must
settle and fix the notion of this blessedness. If we will not re-
gard nor give credit to what God hath discovered concerning it,
we may sit still in a torpid, disconsolate darkness, which we
ourselves are the authors of, or (which is no less pernicious)
compass ourselves with sparks beaten out of our own forge, walk
in the light of our own fire, cheat our souls with the fond dream
of an imagined heaven, no where to be found, till we at length
lie down in sorrow. How perverse are the imaginations of men
in this (as in reference to the way, so) in respect of the end al-
so; for as they take upon them to fancy another way to happi-
ness quite besides and against the plain word of God; so do they
imagine to themselves another kind of happiness, such as shall
gratify only their sensual desires; a Mahometan, indeed a fool's
paradise; or at best it is but a negative heaven; they many
times entertain in their thoughts (of which their sense too is the
only measure) a state wherein nothing shall offend or incommode
164
THE BLESSEDNESS
·
the flesh; in which they shall not hunger, nor thirst, nor feel
want and when they have thus stated the matter in their own
thoughts, we cannot beat them out of it, but that they desire to
go to heaven (namely, the heaven of their own making;) when,
did they conceive it truly and fully, they would find their hearts.
to abhor it, even as hell itself. Therefore here we should
exercise an authority over ourselves, and awaken conscience to
its proper work and business; and demand of it, is it not reason-
able these divine discoveries should take place with me; hath
not God spoken plainly enough? why should my heart any
longer hang in doubt with me, or look wishfully towards future.
glory, as if it were an uncouth thing? or is it reasonable to con-
front my own imaginations to his discoveries? Charge conscience
with the duty it owes to God in such a case; and let his reve-
lations be received with the reverence and resignation which
they challenge; and in them study and contemplate the blessed-
ness of awakened souls, till you have agreed with yourself fully
how to conceive it. Run over every part of it in your thoughts;
view the several divine excellencies which you are hereafter to
see and imitate: and think what every thing will contribute to
the satisfaction and contentment of your spirits. This is a mat-
ter of unspeakable consequence. Therefore, to be as clear as is
possible, you may digest what is recommended to you in these
more particular directions.
(1.) Resolve with yourselves, to make the divine revelation
of this blessedness the prime measure and reason of all your ap-
prehensions concerning it. Fix that purpose in your own hearts,
so to order all your conceptions about it, that when you demand
of yourselves, what do I conceive of the future blessedness?
and why do I conceive so? the divine revelation may answer
both the questions. I apprehend what God hath revealed, and
because he hath so revealed. The Lord of heaven sure best
understands it, and can best help us to the understanding of it.
If it be said of the origin of this world, rige vospev, it may much
more be said of the state of the other, we understand it by faith:
(Heb. 11. 5.) that must inform and perfect our intellectuals in
this matter.
(2.) Therefore reject and sever from the notion of this bles-
sedness, whatsoever is alien to the account Scripture gives us of
it, Think not that sensual pleasure, that a liberty of sinning,
that an exemption from the divine dominion, distance and es-
trangedness from God (which by nature you wickedly affect) can
have any ingrediency into, or consistency with, this state of bles-
sedness.
(3.) Gather up into it whatsoever you can find by the scrip-
ture-discovery to appertain or belong thereto. Let your notion
of it be to your uttermost, not only true, but comprehensive and
full, and as particular and positive, as God's revelation will war-
2
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
165
rant: especially remember it is a spiritual blessedness, that con-
sists in the refining and perfecting of your spirits by the vision
and likeness of the holy God, and the satisfying of them thereby
for ever.
(4.) Get the notion of this blessedness deeply imprinted in
your minds; so as to abide with you, that you may not be always
at a loss, and change your apprehensions every time you come
to think of it. Let a once well-formed idea, a clear, full state of
it be preserved entire, and be (as a lively image) always before
your eyes, which you may readily view upon all occasions.
2. That having well fixed the notion of this blessedness in
your minds, you seriously reflect upon yourself, and compare the
temper of your spirit with it; that you may find out how it is
affected thereto; and thence judge in what likelihood you are
of enjoying it. The general aversion of men's spirits to this so
necessary work of self-reflection, is one of the most deplorable
symptoms of lapsed degenerated humanity. The wickedness
that hath over-spread the nature of man; and a secret conscious-
ness and misgiving hath made men afraid of themselves, and
studiously to decline all acquaintance with their own souls; to
shun themselves as ghosts and spectres; they cannot endure to
appear to themselves. You can hardly impose a severer task
upon a wicked man, than to go retire an hour or two, and com-
mune with himself; he knows not how to face his own thoughts:
his own soul is a devil to him, as indeed it will be in hell, the
most frightful, tormenting devil. Yet, what power is there in
man, more excellent, more appropriate to reasonable nature, than
that of reflecting, of turning his thoughts upon himself? Sense
must here confess itself outdone. The eye that sees other ob-
jects cannot see itself: but the mind, a rational sun, cannot only
project its beams, but revert them; make its thoughts turn in-
ward. It can see its own face, contemplate itself. And how
useful an endowment is this to the nature of man? If he err, he
might perpetuate his error, and wander infinitely, if he had not
this self-reflecting power; and if he do well, never know with-
out it the comfort of a rational self-approbation: which comfort
paganish morality hath valued so highly, as to account it did as-
sociate a man with the inhabitants of heaven, and make him lead
his life as among the gods (as their pagan language is ;) though
the name of the reflecting power conscience, they were less ac-
quainted with; the thing itself they reckoned as a kind of in-
dwelling deity, as may be seen at large in those discourses of
Maximus Tyrius, and Apuleius, both upon the same subject, con-
cerning the god of Socrates. And another giving this precept.
Familiarize thyself with the gods, adds, Συζήν θεοῖς· Συζῆ δὲ θέοις ὁ
συνεχῶς δεικνὺς ἑαυτοῖς τὴν ἑαυτῇ ψύχην, ἀρεςκομένην μέντε τοῖς ἀπονεμομένοις,
ποιησαν δὲ ὅσα βέλεται ὁ δαίμων, ὃν ἐκάςῳ παραάς την &c.-έτος δέ ἐςιν ἑκάςε νος
xai λóyos. Marc. Anton. lib. " and this shalt thou do if thou bear
166
THE BLESSEDNESS
thy mind becomingly towards them, being well pleased with the
things they give, and doing the things that may please thy dœ-
mon or genius, whom (saith he) the most high God (which they
mean by Jupiter) hath put into every man, as a derivation or ex-
traction from himself (áñóóñαoμa) to be his president and guide ;
namely, every one's own mind and reason. And this mind or
reason in that notion of it, as we approve ourselves to it, and
study to please it, is the same thing we intend by the name of
conscience. And how high account they had of this work of
self-reflection, may appear in that they entitled the oracle to that
document, yvas deaurov know thyself, Ecælo descendit, came down
from heaven esteeming it above human discovery, and that it
could have no lower than a divine original; and therefore con-
secrating and writing it up in golden characters in their delphic
temple (as Pliny informs* us) for a heavenly inspired dictate.
Among christians that enjoy the benefit of the gospel-revela-
tion, in which men may behold themselves, as one may his na-
tural face in a glass, how highly should this self-knowledge be
prized, and how fully attained? The gospel discovers, at the
same time, the ugly deformities of a man's soul, and the means
of attaining a true spiritual comeliness; yea, it is itself the in-
strument of impressing the divine image and glory upon men's
spirits which when it is in any measure done, they became socia-
ble and conversable with themselves, and when it is but in doing
it so convincingly, and with so piercing energy, lays open the very
thoughts of men's hearts, (Heb. 4. 12.) so thoroughly rips up
and dissects the soul, so directly turns, and strictly holds a man's
eye intent upon himself; so powerfully urges and obliges the
sinner to mind and study his own soul; that where it hath effect-
ed any thing, been any way operative upon men's spirits, they
are certainly supposed to be in a good measure acquainted with
themselves, whatever others are. Therefore the apostle bids.
the Corinthians, if they desire a proof of the power and truth of
his ministry, to consult themselves, examine yourselves, and
presently subjoins, know ye not your own selves? (2 Cor. 13.
5.) intimating, it was an insupposable thing they should be igno-
rant. What! christians and not know yourselves? Can you
have been under the gospel so long, and be strangers to your-
selves? none can think it. Sure it is a most reproachful thing,
a thing full of ignominy and scandal, that a man should name
himself a christian, and yet be under gross ignorance, touching
the temper and bent of his soul. It signifies, that such a one
understands little of the design and tendency of the very reli-
gion he pretends to be of, that he was a christian by mere chance
that he took up and continues his profession in a dream. Chris-
* Hist. Mundi. The wisdom and significancy of which dedication Plato
also (in Alcibiad. 1.) takes notice of
&
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
167
tianity aims at nothing, it gets a man nothing, if it do not pro-
cure him a better spirit, it is an empty insignificant thing, it hath
no design in it at all, if it do not design this. It pretends to
nothing else. It doth not offer men secular advantages, emolu-
ments, honors; it hath no such aim to make men in that sense
rich, or great, or honorable, but to make them holy, and fit them
for God. He therefore loses all his labor and reward, and shows
himself a vain trifler in the matters of religion, that makes not
this the scope and mark of his christian profession and practice;
and herein he can do nothing without a constant self-inspection.
As it therefore highly concerns, it well becomes a christian under
the gospel, to be in a continual observation and study of himself,
that he may know to what purpose he is a christian; and take
notice, what (or whether any) good impressions be yet made
upon
his spirit; whether he can gain any thing by his religion.
And if a man enter upon an inquiry into himself, what more im-
portant question can he put than this, In what posture am I as to
my last and chief end? how is my spirit framed towards it?
This is the intendment and business of the gospel, to fit souls for
blessedness and therefore, if I would inquire, what am I the
better for the gospel? this is the sense and meaning of that very
question, Is my soul wrought by it to any better disposition for
blessedness? Upon which the resolution of this depends, Am I
ever likely to enjoy it, yea or no? That which may make any
heart not deplorably stupid, shake and tremble, that such a thing
should be drawn into question: but the case with the most re-
quires it, and it must be so. It is that therefore I would fain
here awaken souls to, and assist them in; that is, propound
something (in pursuance of the present direction) which might
both awaken them to move this great question, and help them in
discussing it. Both which will be done in shewing the impor-
tance of this latter ultimate question in itself, and then the sub-
serviency of the former subordinate one, towards the deciding it.
These two things therefore I shall a little stay upon :-to shew
and urge the requisiteness of debating with ourselves, the likeli-
hood or hopefulness of our enjoying this blessedness, and-to
discover that the present habitude, or disposedness of our spirits
to it, is a very proper apt medium, whereby to judge thereof.
(1.) As to the former of these. Methinks our business should
do itself: and that the very mention of such a blessedness,
should naturally prompt souls to bethink themselves. Doth it
belong to me? have I any thing to do with it? Methinks every
one that hears of it should be beforehand with me, and prevent
me here.
Where is that stupid soul that reckons it an indiffer-
ent thing to attain this blessed state, or fall short of it? When
thou hearest this is the common expectation of saints, to behold
the face of God, and be satisfied with his likeness, when they
awake; canst thou forbear to say with thyself, and what shall be-
!
168
THE BLESSEDNESS
骨
​come of me when I awake? what kind of awaking shall I have?
shall I awake amidst the beams of glory, or flames of wrath? If
thou canst be persuaded to think this no matter of indifferency,
then stir up thy drowsy soul to a serious inquiry, how it is likely
to fare with thee for ever; and to that purpose put thy conscience
to it, to give a free, sincere answer to these few queries.
1
Now
[1.] Canst thou say thou art already certain of thy eternal
blessedness? Art thou so sure, that thou needest not inquire? I
know not who thou art that now readest these lines, and there-
fore cannot judge of thy confidence whether it be right or
wrong ;only that thou mayst not answer too hastily, consider a lit-
tle, that certainty of salvation is no common thing; (Phil. 2.
12.) not among (I speak you see of subjective certainty) the
heirs of salvation themselves. How many of God's holy ones,
that cannot say they are certain; yea, how few that can say they
are? The exhortation to a church of saints, work out your sal-
vation with fear and trembling, (they of whom he expresseth
such confidence, chap. 1.6. over whom He so glories, chap. 4. 1.)
implies this to be no common thing; so doth Christ's advice to
his disciples, strive to enter in at the strait gate; and St. Peter
to the scattered Jews (that he saith had obtained like precious
faith, &c.) give diligence to make your calling and election sure;
with many more passages of like import. Yea, how full is the
Scripture of the complaints of such crying out of broken bones,
of festering wounds, of distraction by divine terrors.
what shall we say in this case, when so eminent saints have left
us records of the distresses and agonies of their spirits, under
the apprehended displeasure of God? May it not occasion us
to suspend awhile, and consider? have we much more reason
to be confident than they? and do we know none that lead
stricter and more holy lives than we, that are yet in the dark,
and at a loss in judging their spiritual states? I will not say,
that we must therefore think ourselves bound to doubt, because
another possibly better than we doth so. Unknown accidents
may much vary the cases. But who would not think, that rea-
son and modesty had quite forsaken the world, to hear (where
the odds is so vastly great) the vain boasts of the loose general-
ity, compared with the humble, solicitous doubts of many seri-
ous knowing christians? to see such trembling about their soul-
concernments, who have walked with God, and served him long
in prayers and tears? when multitudes that have nothing where-
on to bottom a confidence but pride and ignorance, shall pretend
themselves certain! If drawing breath awhile, thou wilt sus-
pect thou have reason not to be peremptory in thy confidence:
thou wilt sure think thyself concerned to inquire further. Urge
thy soul then with this question again and again, Art thou yet
certain, yea or no?
[2.] Is it a comfortable state to be uncertain, or to have before
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
169
thee apparent grounds of a rational and just doubt? For cause-
less doubts may sooner vanish, when their causelessness is once
discovered; and so they are less likely to keep a person that is
capable of understanding his own case, under a stated discomfort.
But I suppose thee, in order to the answering the foregoing query,
to have in some measure considered the case; and that with a
preponderating apprehension of danger in it, thou returnest it
uncertain. Uncertain, man! And what, wilt thou remain uncer-
tain! wilt thou sit still so, till thou perish? shall thy life hang in
doubt, and thy soul be in jeopardy every hour, till the everlast-
ing flames resolve the doubt, and put the matter out of question
with thee? What course canst thou apply thyself to, but to in-
quire and search further into thy own state, to avoid the torture
of thy own fears, and pangs and dreadful expectation of a pal-
pitating, mis-giving heart? It is true, that inquisitive diligent
doubtfulness hath hope and comfort in it, but doubtfulness join-
ed with a resolution of casting off all further care, is utterly des-
perate and disconsolate. What remains to thee in that case, but
a fearful looking for of fiery indignation? how canst thou pass an
hour in peace, while thou apprehendest it unlikely, thou shalt
see the face and be satisfied with the image of God? do not thy
own thoughts represent to thee, the amazing sights, the horrid
images which shall for ever entertain and possess thy soul? Art
thou not daily haunted with divine horrors? when thou sayest at
night, thy bed shall refresh thee, art thou not terrified with
dreams and affrighted with visions? Dost thou not say in the
morning, would to God it were evening; and in the evening say,
would to God it were morning? And while thou knowest not
what else to do, meditate only changes instead of remedies? or
if thou find no such trouble invading thy mind, let me further
ask:
[3.] Is it reasonable to be secure in such a state of uncertain-
ty Debate this matter a little while with thyself. Is it thy
reason, or thy sloth that makes thee sit still and forbear to look
into thy spiritual affairs? Is it any rational consideration, or
not rather the mere indisposition of a soul, afraid to know its
own state, that suspends thee from inquiring? What hast thou
to say, that looks like a reason? Is it that it will disturb thy
thoughts, interrupt thy pleasures, fill thee with anxious cares
and fears, which thou art as loth to admit, as burning coals into
thy bosom? Is it that thou canst not endure to look upon so
dreadful an object, as the appearing danger, or possibility of
thy being miserable to eternity? And art thou therefore resolv-
ed to shut thine eyes, and cry peace, peace? This is to avoid
a present inconvenience, by an eternal mischief, (a gross over-
straining the paradox!) for avoiding the present fear of hell to
run into it; as if because a man cannot bear the thoughts of dy-
ing, he should presently cut his own throat. Vain man? canst
VOL. I.
22
1
THE BLESSEDNESS
170
thou not bear the thoughts of eternal misery; how wilt thou
bear the thing? And how long-lived dost thou think that peace
shall be, that thou purchasest upon so dear and hard terms?
canst thou promise thyself an hour? mayst thou not lose thy
purchase and price together the next moment? canst thou defer
thy misery by forgetting it; or will thy judgment linger, and thy
damnation slumber, while thou securely lingerest and slumberest?
canst thou wink hell into nothing; and put it out of being, by
putting it out of thy thoughts? Alas man! open thy eyes when
thou wilt, thou shalt find thou hast not bettered thy case by hav-
ing them fast closed. The bitterness of death is not yet past.
The horrid image is still before thee. This is not a fancied evil,
which a man may dream himself into, and eadem opera, with as
little difficulty, dream himself out of it again: no, thy case is
miserable and dangerous when thou composest thyself to sleep;
if thou awakest thou wilt find it still the same; only thou didst
not apprehend it before, for then thou wouldst not have slept:
as the drunkard that kills a man, and after falls asleep in his
drunken fit, he awakes and understands his wretched case.
Would his sleeping on, till the officer's arrest had awaked him,
have mended the matter with him? But thou wilt possibly say,
Is it not better here to have a little quiet now, than to be mise-
rable by sad thoughts here, and miserable by actual suffering
hereafter too? Is not one death enough? why should one kill
himself so often over; and hasten misery, as if it came on too
slowly? Better, man! A hard choice. Supposing thou art to
be eternally miserable (if thou understandest that word eternity,)
the good or evil of this little inch of time, will signify so little
with thee, as hardly to weigh any thing in the scale of a ration-
al judgment. But what, art thou now dreaming while thou thus
reasonest? Dost thou yet no better understand thy case? art
thou not under the gospel? Is it not the day of thy hope, and
of the Lord's grace and patience towards thee? It was said,
that sleeping would not better thy case; but it was not said, that
awaking would not; but all that is here said, is designed to the
awakening of thee, that thou mayst know thy case, and endeavor
a redress. Dost thou think any man in his sober wits would take
all this pains thus to reason with thee, if that were the acknow-
ledged and agreed state of thy case, that it were already taken
for granted thou must perish? We might as well go preach to
devils, and carry down the gospel into hell. But dost thou think
the holy merciful God sent his Son and his ministers to mock
men; and to treat with them about their eternal concernments,
when there is no hope? Were that thy case, thou hadst as good
a pretence as the devil had, to complain of being tormented be-
fore thy time. But if thou be not wilfully perverse, in mista-
king the matter we are reasoning about, thou mayst understand,
thy reason is here appealed to in this; whether having so fair
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
171
hopes before thee, as the gospel gives, of this blessedness we
are discoursing of, it be reasonable from the apprehension of a
mere possibility of miscarrying, (which can only be through thy
wilful security and neglect,) to give up thyself to a supine neg-
ligence, and indulge that security which is so sure to ruin thee,
and exchange a possible hoped heaven for a certain hell; or
whether rather it be not reasonable to stir up thy soul to con-
sider in what posture thou art, towards the attainment of this
blessedness, that thou mayst accordingly steer thy course in or-
der to it? If an accusation, or a disease do threaten thy life
a suspected flaw thy title to thy estate, wouldst thou not think it
reasonable to inquire into thy case? And is it not much more
desirable, in a matter of this consequence, to be at some certain-
ty? and prudent to endeavor it, if it may possibly be attained?
Whence let me further ask:
or
[4.] Canst thou pretend it to be impossible? Hath God left
thee under a necessitated ignorance, in this matter? or denied
thee sufficient means of knowing how it is with thee in respect
of thy spiritual estate? Though he hath not given thee a list,
or told thee the number or names of his sanctified ones, yet hath
he not sufficiently described the person, and given the charac-
ters by which they may be known? And hath he not furnished
thee with a self-reflecting power, by which thou art enabled to
look into thyself, and discern whether thou be of them or no?
Doth he not offer and afford to serious, diligent souls, the assist-
ing light of his blessed Spirit to guide and succeed the inquiry?
And if thou find it difficult to come to a speedy, clear issue, to
make a present certain judgment of thy case; ought not that to
engage thee to a patient continued diligence, rather than in a rash
despairing madness to desist and cast off all? inasmuch as the diffi-
culty, though great, is not insuperable; and the necessity and ad-
vantage incomparably greater. And (though divers other things
do confessedly fall in) the principal difficulty lies in thy aversa-
tion and unwillingness. Thou art not put to traverse the crea-
tion, to climb heaven or dig through the earth; but thy work
lies nigh thee, in thy own heart and spirit; and what is so nigh,
or should be so familiar to thee, as thyself? it is but casting thy
eye upon thy own soul, to discern which way it is inclined and
bent, thou art urged to. Which is that we propounded next to
discover: namely,
(2.) That we are to judge of the hopefulness of our enjoying
this blessedness, by the present habitude or disposedness of our
spirits thereto. For what is that righteousness which qualifies
for it, but the impress of the gospel upon the minds and hearts
of men? The gospel-revelation is the only rule and measure of
that righteousness: it must therefore consist in conformity there-
to. And look to the frame and design of the gospel-revelation,
and what doth so directly correspond to it, as that very habitude
172
THE BLESSEDNESS
and disposedness of spirit for this blessedness whereof we speak?
Nothing so answers the gospel, as a propension of heart towards
God gratified in part now, and increasing till it find a full satis-
faction; a desire of knowing him and of being like him. It is
the whole design of the gospel, which reveals his glory in the
face of Jesus Christ, to work and form the spirits of men to this.
They therefore whose spirits are thus wrought and framed, are
righteous by the gospel-measure, and by that righteousness are
evidently entitled and fitted for this blessedness. Yea, that
righteousness hath in it (or rather) is the elements, the first
principles, the seed of this blessedness. There can therefore
be no surer rule or mark whereby to judge our states, whether
we have to do with this blessedness, may expect it yea or no,
than this. How stand we affected towards it; in what disposi-
tion are our hearts thereto? Those fruits of righteousness, by
which the soul is qualified to appear without offence in the day
of Christ, the several graces of the sanctifying Spirit, are noth-
ing else but so many holy principles, all disposing the soul to-
wards this blessedness, and the way to it; mortification, self-de-
nial, and godly sorrow, take it off from other objects, the world,
self and sin; repentance (that part of it which respects God)
turns the course of its motion towards God the end ; faith directs
it through Christ the way; love makes it move freely; desire,
earnestly; joy, pleasantly; hope, confidently; humility, even-
ly; fear, circumspectly; patience, constantly and preseveringly.
All conspire to give the soul a right disposition towards this
blessedness. The result of them all is heavenliness, a heavenly
temper of spirit. For they all (one way or other,) as so many
lines and rays have respect to a blessedness in God (which is
heaven) as the point at which they aim; and the cuspis, the
point in which they meet, in order to the touching of that ob-
jective point, is heavenliness. This is the ultimate and immedi-
ate disposition of heart for this blessedness; the result the ter-
minus productus of the whole work of righteousness in the
soul; by which it is said to be as it were, nata ad gloriam, be-
gotten to the eternal inheritance. Concerning this therefore.
chiefly institute thy inquiry. Demand of thyself, Is my soul yet
made heavenly, bent upon eternal blessedness, or no? And here
thou mayst easily apprehend, of how great concernment it is, to
have the right notion of heaven, or future blessedness, as was
urged under the foregoing rule. For if thou take for it another
thing, thou missest thy mark, and art quite beside thy business:
but if thou retain a right and scriptural notion of it, the rule thou
art to judge by is sure, they shall have heaven whose hearts are
intent upon it, and framed to it. Scripture is every where preg-
nant and full of this.
The apostle plainly intimates, this will be the rule of God's
final judgment. Certainly it cannot be unsafe for us to judge
}
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
173
ourselves by the same rule. He tells us, when God shall judge
every one according to his works (the great business of the judg
ment day,) eternal life shall be the portion of them, who by pa-
tient continuance in well-doing, sought glory, and honor, and im-
mortality (Rom. 2. 6. 7.) which are but other expressions of
the same thing. What can be more plain? They shall have
eternal life and glory that seek it; whose hearts are towards it.
Again, speaking of true christians, diaxgiris, (that is in a way of
contradistinction from Pseudo-christians, such as he saith were
enemies of the cross,) he gives us among other, this brand of
these latter, that they did mind earthly things, and tells us, their
end should be destruction; but gives us this opposite character
of the other, our conversation is in heaven; (Phil. 3. 18.-20.)
our trade and business, our daily negotiations, as well as the pri-
vileges of our citizenship lie there, as his expression imports,
and thence intimates the opposite end of such, whence we look
for a Saviour; not destruction, but salvation. And in the same
context of Scripture, where they that are risen with Christ, and
who shall appear with him in glory, are required to set their
mind on things above, and not on things on the earth: (Col. 3.
1, 2, 3, 4.) that we may understand this, not to be their duty
only, but their character, we are immediately told, they who fol-
low not this counsel, and mortify not their earthly members
(those lusts that dispose men towards the earth, and to grovel in
the dust, as the graces of the Spirit dispose them heavenward,
and to converse with glory) are the children of disobedience,
upon whom the wrath of God cometh. The faith, the just live
by, is the substance of things hoped for, &c. Heb. 1, 13, 16.
Such believers are confessed, avowed strangers on earth; and
seekers of the better, the heavenly country, whence it is said,
God will not be ashamed to be called their God; plainly imply-
ing, that as for low, terrene spirits, that love to creep on the
earth, and embrace dunghills, God will be ashamed of them; he
will for ever disdain a relation to them, while and as such. And
if we will be determined by the express word of our great Re-
deemer, to whom we owe all the hopes of this blessedness;
when he had been advising not to lay up treasure on earth, but
in heaven, he presently adds, Where your treasure is, there will
your hearts be also. Mat. 6. 19, 20, 21. If thy treasure, thy great
interest, thy precious and most valuable good be above, that will
attract thy heart, it will certainly be disposed thitherward.
Yet here it must carefully be considered, that inasmuch as this
blessedness is thy end, that is, thy supreme good (as the notion
of treasure also imports,) thy heart must be set upon it above
any other enjoyment; else all is to no purpose. It is not a faint,
slight, over-mastered inclination that will serve the turn, but
(as all the forementioned scriptures import) such as will bespeak
it a man's business to seek heaven, his main work; and give
174
THE BLESSEDNESS
ground to say of him, his heart is there. If two lovers solicit
the same person, and speaking of them in comparisons she say,
this hath my heart; is it tolerable to understand her, as meaning
him she loves less? so absurd would it be to understand scrip-
tures, that speak of such an intention of heart heaven-ward, as if
the faintest desire, coldest wish, or most lazy inconstant endea-
vor were all they meant. No, it is a steady, prevalent, victori-
ous direction of heart towards the future glory, in comparison
whereof, thou despisest all things else (all temporal, terrene
things,) that must be the evidential ground of thy hope to enjoy
it. And therefore in this, deal faithfully with thy own soul, and
demand of it; Dost thou esteem this blessedness above all things
else? Do the thoughts of it continually return upon thee, and
thy mind and heart, as it were naturally run out to it? Are thy
chiefest solicitudes and cares taken about it, lest thou shouldst
fall short and suffer a disappointment? Dost thou savour it with
pleasure; hath it a sweet and grateful relish to thy soul? Dost
thou bend all thy powers to pursue and press on towards it?
Urge thyself to give answer truly to such imquiries; and to con-
sider them seriously, that thou mayst do so. Such whose spirits.
are either most highly raised and lifted up to heaven, or most
deeply depressed and sunk into the earth, may make the clearest
judgment of themselves. With them that are of a middle tem-
per, the trial will be more difficult, yet not fruitless, if it be man-
aged with serious diligence, though no certain conclusion or
judgment be made thereupon. For the true design and use of
all such inquiries and reflections upon ourselves (which let it be
duly considered) is, not to bring us into a state of cessation from
further endeavors; as if we had nothing more to do (suppose
we judge the best of our state that can be thought,) but to keep
us in a wakeful temper of spirit; that we may not forget our-
selves in the great business we have yet before us, but go on
with renewed vigor through the whole course of renewed en-
deavors, wherein we are to be still conversant, till we have at-
tained our utmost mark and end. Therefore is this present in-
quiry directed, as introductive to the further duty, that in the fol-
lowing rules is yet to be recommended.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
175
CHAPTER XVII.
Rule 3. Directing such as upon inquiry find, or see cause to suspect, a total
aversation in themselves to this blessedness, to be speedy and restless in
their endeavors to have the temper of their spirits altered and suitable to
it. Doubts and objections concerning the use of such endeavors, in such
a case, answered. Some considerations to enforce this direction propound-
ed and pressed.
3. That if upon such reflection we find or suspect ourselves
wholly disaffected and unsuitable to this blessedness, we apply
ourselves to speedy, incessant endeavors to get the temper of
our spirits changed and fitted thereto. The state of the case
speaks itself, that there is no sitting still here. This is no condi-
tion, soul, to be rested in; unless thou art provided to encounter
the terrors of eternal darkness, and endure the torture of ever-
lasting burnings. Yet am I not unapprehensive how great a
difficulty a carnal heart will make of it to bestir itself in order to
any redress of so deplorable a case. And how real a difficulty
it is, to say any thing that will be thought regardable to such a
one. Our sad experience tells us, that our most efficacious
words are commonly wont to be entertained as neglected puffs of
wind; our most convictive reasonings and persuasive exhorta-
tions lost (yea, and though they are managed too in the name of
the great God) as upon the deaf and dead: which is too often
apt to tempt into that resolution, of "speaking no more in that
name." And were it not that the dread of, that great majesty
restrains us, how hard were it to forbear such expostulations;
"Lord, why are we commonly sent upon so vain an errand?
why are we required to speak to them that will not hear, and
expose thy sacred truths and counsels to the contempt of sinful
worms; to labor day by day in vain, and spend our strength for
nought?" Yea, we cannot forbear to complain, "None so labor
in vain as we: of all men none so generally improsperous and
unsuccessful. Others are wont to see the fruit of their labors,
in proportion to the expense of strength in them but our
strength is labor and sorrow (for the most part) without the re-
turn of a joyful fruit. The husbandman plows in hope, and
sows in hope, and is commonly partaker of his hope: we are
sent to plow and sow among rocks and thorns, and in the high-
way; how seldom fall we upon good ground? Where have we
any increase? Yea, Lord, how often are men the harder for all
:
176
THE BLESSEDNESS
our labors with them, the deader for all endeavors to quicken
them? Our breath kills them whom thou sendest us to speak life
to; and we often become to them a deadly savour. Sometimes,
when we think somewhat is done to purpose; our labor all re-
turns, and we are to begin again; and when the duties we per-
suade to, come directly to cross men's interests and carnal in-
clinations, they revolt and start back, as if we were urging them
upon flames, or the sword's point; and their own souls and the
eternal glory are regarded as a thing of nought: then heaven
and hell become with them fancies and dreams; and all that we
have said to them false and fabulous. We are to the most as
men that mock, in our most serious warnings and counsels; and
the word of the Lord is a reproach. We sometimes fill our
mouths with arguments, and our hearts with hope, and think,
sure they will now yield; but they esteem our strongest reason-
ings (as Leviathan doth iron and brass) but as straw and rotten
wood; and laugh at divine threatenings as he doth at the shak-
ing of the spear. Yea, and when we have convinced them, yet
we have done nothing; though we have got their judgments and
conscience on our side and their own, their lusts only reluctate
and carry all. They will now have their way though they pe-
rish. We see them perishing under our very eye, and we cry
to them (in thy name, O Lord) to return and live, but they re-
gard us not. For these things, sometimes we weep in secret,
and our eyes trickle down with tears; yea, we cry to thee, O
Lord, and thou hearest us not; thy hand seems shortened, that
it cannot save; it puts not on strength as in the days of old; it
hath snatched souls by thousands, as firebrands out of the fire;
but now thou hidest and drawest it back. Who hath believed
our report? To whom is the arm of the Lord revealed? Mean-
while even the devil's instruments prosper more than we and
he that makes it his business to tempt and entice down souls to
hell, succeeds more than we that would allure them to heaven.
But we must speak, whether men will hear or forbear; though
it concerns us to do it with fear and trembling. Oh, how solemn
a business is it to treat with souls! and how much to be dreaded,
lest they miscarry through our imprudence or neglect! I write
with solicitude what shall become of these lines; with what
effect they will be read (if they fall into such hands) by them
whom they most concern: yea, and with some doubt, whether
it were best to write on or forbear. Sometimes one would in-
cline to think it a merciful omission, lest we add to the account
and torment of many at last; but sense of duty towards all, and
hope of doing good to some must oversway. Considering there-
fore the state of such souls I am now dealing with, I apprehend
there may be obstructions to the entertainment of the counsel
here recommended, of two sorts; partly in their minds, partly
in their hearts; something of appearing reason, but more of
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
177
real perverse will. That which I shall do in pursuance of it,
will fall under two answerable heads :-A reply to certain doubts
and objections, wherein to meet with the former: and-the
proposal of some considerations, wherein to contend against the
latter.
(1.) It appears men are grown ingeniously wicked, and have
learned how to dispute themselves into hell; and to neglect what
concerns their eternal blessedness with some color and pretence
of reason. It will therefore be worth the while to discuss a lit-
tle their more specious pretences, and consider, their more ob-
vious (supposable) scruples, which will be found to concern ei-
ther the possibility, lawfulness, advantage or necessity of the
endeavors we persuade to.
[1.] Is it a possible undertaking you put us upon; or, is there
any thing we can do in order to the change of our own hearts?
We find ourselves altogether undesirous of those things wherein
you state blessedness, and they are without savour to us. If
therefore the notion you give us of blessedness be right, all the
work necessary to qualify us for it is yet to be done; we yet re-
main wholly destitute of any principle of life, that may dispose
us to such relishes and enjoyments. If the new creature (as
you say) consist in a suitable temper of spirit unto such a state
as this, it is as yet wholly unformed in us: And is there any
thing to be done by a dead man in order to life? Can a child
contribute any thing to its first formation? or a creature to its
coming into being? In answer to this, consider:
If you were serious in what you say, methinks you should
have little mind to play the sophisters, and put fallacies upon
yourselves, in the matter that concerns the life of your soul.
And what else are you now doing? For sure, otherwise one
would think it were no such difficulty to understand the differ-
ence between the esse simpliciter, the mere being of any thing,
and the esse tale, its being such or such; by the addition of
somewhat afterward to that being. Though nothing could con-
tribute to its own being simply; yet sure when it is in being, it
may contribute to the bettering or perfecting of itself, (even as
the unreasonable creatures themselves do :) and if it be a crea-
ture naturally capable of acting with design, it may act design-
edly in order to its becoming so or so qualified, or the attaining
of somewhat yet wanting to its perfection. You cannot be
thought so ignorant, but that you know the new creature is only
an addition to your former being: and though it be true, that it
can do no more to its own production than the unconceived child
(as nothing can act before it is) doth it therefore follow, that
your reasonable soul, in which it is to be formed, cannot use
God's prescribed means in order to that blessed change? You
cannot act holily as a saint; but therefore can you not act ration-
ally as a man! I appeal to your reason and conscience in some
VOL. I.
23
178
THE BLESSEDNESS
particulars. Is it impossible to you to attend upon the dispen-
sation of the gospel, which is God's power unto salvation, the
seal by which he impresses his image, the glass through which
his glory shines to the changing of souls into the same likeness?
Are you not as able to go to church as the tavern; and to sit in
the assembly of saints as of mockers? Is it impossible to you,
to consult the written word of God, and thence learn what you
must be, and do in order to blessedness? Will not your eyes
serve you to read the Bible as well as a gazette or play-book?
Is it impossible to inquire of your minister, or an understanding
christian neighbor concerning the way and terms of blessedness!
Cannot your tongue pronounce these words, what shall I do to be
saved, as well as those, pray what do you think of the weather;
or what news is there going? Yet further: Is it impossible to
apply your thoughts to what you meet with suitable to your case in
attendance upon preaching, reading, or discourse? Have all such
words a barbarous sound in your ear? Can you not consider
what sense is carried under them; what they import and sig-
nify? Can you not bethink yourself, Do the doctrines of God
and Christ and the life to come, signify something or nothing?
or do they signify any thing worth the considering, or that it is
fit for me to take notice of?
And yet to proceed a little further with you: I pray you once
more demand of yourselves, and put your consciences closely to
it, whether, when they have told you (as no doubt they will,)
that such things deserve your consideration, it be impossible to
you, to use your considering power thus, and employ it even
about these things? Do but make this easy trial, and then say,
whether it be impossible. See if you cannot select one hour on
purpose, wherein to sit down by yourselves alone, with this reso-
lution; Well, I will now spend this hour in considering my eter-
nal concernments. When you have obtained so much of your-
self; set your thoughts on work, (you will find them voluble
and unfixed, very apt to revolt and fly off from things you have
no mind to, but) use your authority with yourself, tell your soul
(or let it tell itself) these things concern thy life. At least, ta-
king this prepared matter along with thee (that thou mayst not
have this pretence, thou knowest not what to think of,) try if
thou canst not think of these things, now actually suggested and
offered to thy thoughts: as namely, Consider, that thou hast a
reasonable, immortal soul, which as it is liable to eternal misery,
so it is capable of eternal blessedness: that this blessedness thou
dost understand to consist only in the vision of the blessed God,
in being made like to him, and in the satisfastion that is thence
to result and accrue to thee. Consider (what thy very objec-
tion supposeth,) that thou findest the temper of thy spirit to be
altogether indisposed and averse to such a blessedness. Is it
not so? is not this thy very case? feel now again thy heart: try,
is it not at least coldly affected towards this blessed state?
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
179
}
Is it not then obvious to thee to considér, that the temper of
thy spirit must be changed, or thou art undone? that inasmuch
as thy blessedness lies in God, this change must lie in the alter-
ation of thy dispositions, and the posture of thy spirit towards
him. Further, Canst thou not consider the power and fixedness
of thy aversation from God; and with how mighty a weight thy
heart is carried and held down from Him? Try, lift at thy
heart, see if it will be raised God-ward and heaven-ward? Dost
thou not find, it is as if thou wert, lifting at a mountain, that it
lies as a dead weight and stirs not? Ponder thy case in this
respect. And then, Is it not to be considered, that thy time is
passing away apace? that if thou let thyself alone, it is likely to
be as bad with thee to-morrow as this day, and as bad next day
as to-morrow? And if thy time expire and thou be snatched
away in this state, what will become of thee? And dost thou
not therefore see a necessity of considering whatever may be
most moving, and most likely to incline thy heart God-ward, of
pleading it more loudly and importunately with thyself? And
canst thou not consider and reason the matter thus?
"O my
soul, what is the reason that thou so drawest back and hangest
off from thy God? that thou art so unwilling to be blessed in
him? that thou shouldst venture to run thyself upon eternal
perdition rather? What cause hath he ever given thee to dis-
affect Him? What is the ground of thy so mighty prejudice?
Hath he ever done thee hurt? Dost thou think He will not ac-
cept a returning soul? That is to give the lie to his gospel ;
and it becomes not a perishing wretch so to provoke Him in
whom is all its hope. Is the eternal glory an undesirable thing?
or the everlasting burnings tolerable? Canst thou find a way of
being forever blessed without God; or whether he will or no?
or is there a sufficient present pleasure in thy sinful distance
from God, to outweigh heaven and hell? Darest thou venture
upon a resolution of giving God and Christ their last refusal; or
say, thou wilt never hearken to, or have to do with them more,
or darest thou venture to do what thou darest not resolve? and
act the wickedness thou canst not think of? scorn eternal ma-
jesty and love? spurn and trample a bleeding Saviour?" Com-
mune thus awhile with thyself; but if yet thou find thy heart
relent nothing, thou canst yet further consider, that it lies not in
thy power to turn thy own heart, (or else how comest thou thus
to object?) And hence, canst thou avoid considering this is a
distressed case? that thou art in great straits; liable to perish
(yea, sure to do so, if thou continue in that ill temper of spirit,)
and wholly unable to help thyself? Surely thou canst not but
see this to be a most distressed case.
I put it now to thy conscience, whether being thus led on,
thou canst not go thus far? See whether upon trial thy con-
science give thee leave to say, I am not able thus to do or think:
1
180
THE BLESSEDNESS
There-
and be not here so foolish, as to separate the action of the first
cause and the second, in judging thy ability. Thou mayst say
no, I cannot think a good thought without God; true, so I know
thou canst not move a finger without God; but my meaning in
this appeal to thy conscience is, whether upon trial thou findest
not an assistance sufficient to carry thee thus far? Possibly thou
wilt say, yea, but what am I the better? I am only brought to
see myself in a distressed, perishing condition, and can get no
further. I answer, it is well thou art got so far, if thou indeed
see thyself perishing, and thy drowsy soul awake into any sense
of the sadness of thy case. But I intend not thus to leave thee
here; therefore let me furthermore demand of thee: What
course wouldst thou take in any other distress, wherein thou
knowest not what to do to help thyself? would not such an exi-
gency, when thou findest thyself pinched and urged on every
side, and every way is shut up to thee, that thou art beset with
calamities, and canst no way turn thyself to avoid them; would
not such an exigency force thee down on thy knees, and set thee
a crying to the God of mercy for relief and help? Would not
nature itself prompt to this? Is it not natural to lift up hands
and eyes to heaven when we know not what to do ?*
fore having thus far reasoned with thee about thy considering
power; let me demand of thee, if thou canst not yet go some-
what further than considering? that is, in short: Is it impossible
to thee to obey this dictate of nature? I mean, represent the
deplorable case of thy soul before Him that made it; and crave
his merciful relief? Do not dispute the matter; thou canst not
but see this is a possible and a rational course, as thy case is.
Should not a people seek unto their God? Fall down therefore
low before Him; prostrate thyself at the foot-stool of his mercy-
seat. Tell Him, thou understandest Him to be the Father of
spirits and the Father of mercies; that thou hast heard of his
great mercy and pity towards the spirits of men in their for-
lorn, lapsed state what a blessedness He hath designed for
them; what means he hath designed to bring them to it.
Tell Him, thou only needest a temper of spirit suitable to
the blessedness He invites thee to; that thou canst not mas-
ter and change thy sensual, earthly heart; thou knowest He
easily can; thou art come to implore his help, that his blessed
and Holy Spirit may descend and breathe upon thy stupid, dead
soul; and may sweetly incline and move it towards Him; that
it may eternally rest in Him; and that thou mayst not perish,
after so much done in order to thy blessedness, only for want of
a heart to entertain it. Tell Him, thou comest upon his gracious.
encouragement, having heard He is as ready to give his Spirit to
*Audio vulgus cum ad cœlum manus tendunt nihil aliud quam Deum
dicunt, vulgi iste naturalis est sermo; where the vulgar lift up their hands to
heaven, I seem to hear them addressing God himself, this is their natural
language.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
181
them that ask Him, as parents, bread to their craving children
rather than a stone that it is for life thou beggest that it is not
so easy to thee, to think of perishing for ever: that thou canst
not desist and give up all thy hopes that thou shalt be in hell
shortly, if He hear and help thee not. Lastly, If thus thou ob-
tain any communication of that holy, blessed Spirit, and thou
find it gently moving thy dead heart, let me once more demand
of thee: Is it impossible to forbear this or that external act of
sin at this time, when thou art tempted to it? sure thou canst
not say, it is impossible. What necessitates thee to it? And
then certainly thou mayst as well ordinarily withhold thyself
from running into such customary sensualities, as tend to grieve
the Spirit, debauch conscience, stupify thy soul, and hide God
from thee. And if thou canst do all this, do not fool thy sloth-
ful soul with as idle a conceit, that thou hast nothing to do, but
to sit still, expecting till thou drop into hell.
(2.) But have I not reason to fear, I shall but add sin to sin in
all this? and so increase the burden of guilt upon my own soul;
and by endeavoring to better my case, make it far worse. Two
things I consider, that suggest to me this fear,-the manner and
end, of the duties you put me upon, as they will be done by me
in the case wherein I apprehend myself, yet to lie.-The man-
ner (as to the positive action you advise to,) I have heard, the
best actions of an unregenerate person are sins, through the sin-
fulness of his manner of doing them; though as to the matter of
the thing done, they be enjoined and good: and though it be true,
that the regenerate cannot perform a sinless duty neither; yet
their persons and works being covered over with the righteous-
ness of Christ, are looked upon as having no sin in them, which
I apprehend to be none of my case.-And as to the end. You
put me upon these things in order to the attaining of blessed-
ness; and to do such things with intuition to a reward, is to be
(as may be doubted) unwariantable, mercenary, and servile.
[1.] As to this former reason of your doubt; methinks the
proposal of it answers it. Forasmuch as you acknowledge the
matter of these actions to be good and duty (and plain it is, they
are moral duties, of common perpetual concernment to all per-
sons and times,) dare you decline or dispute against your duty?
Sure, if we compare the evil of what is so substantially in itself,
and what is so circumstantially, only by the adherence of some
undue modus, or manner; it cannot be hard to determine which
is the greater and more dreadful evil. As to the present case;
shouldst thou, when the great God sends abroad his proclamation
of pardon and peace, refuse to attend it to consider the con-
tents of it, and thy own case in reference thereto, and thereupon
to sue to him for the life of thy own soul? Dost thou not plainly
see thy refusal must needs be more provoking than thy defective
performance? This, speaks disability, but that, rebellion and
182
THE BLESSEDNESS
Ne
contempt. Besides, dost thou not see, that thy objection lies
as much against every other action of thy life? The wise man
tells us, (Prov. 21. 4.) the plowing of the wicked is sin, (if that
be literally to be understood;) and what wouldst thou therefore
sit still and do nothing? Then how soon would that idleness draw
on gross wickedness? And would not that be a dreadful confuta-
tion of thyself, if thou who didst pretend a scruple, that thou
mightst not pray, read, hear, meditate, shalt not scruple to play
the glutton, the drunkard, the wanton, and indulge thyself in all
riot and excess? Yea, if thou do not break out into such exorbi-
tancies, would any one think him serious that should say, it were
against his conscience to be working out his salvation, and striv-
ing to enter in at the strait gate; seeking first the kingdom of
God, &c. Would not this sound strangely? And especially, that
in the mean time it should never be against his conscience, to
trifle away his time, and live in perpetual neglects of God, in
persevering atheism, infidelity, hardness of heart, never regret-
ed or striven against as if these were more innocent? And
what thou say st of the different case of the regenerate, is im-
pertinent; for as to this matter, the case is not different, they
that take themselves to be such, must not think that by their
supposed interest in the righteousness of Christ, their real sins
cease to be such, they only become pardoned sins; and shall
they therefore sin more boldly than other men, because they are
surer of pardon?
[2.] As to the other ground of this doubt, there can only be
a fear of sinning, upon this account, to them that make more
sins and duties than God hath made. The doubt supposes reli-
gion inconsistent with humanity and that God were about to
rase out of the nature of man one of the most radical and fun-
damental laws written there, a desire of blessedness :-and
supposes it against the express scope and tenor of his whole gos-
pel revelation. For what doth that design, but to bring men to
blessedness? And how is it a means to compass that design, but
as it tends to engage men's spirits to design it too? unless we
would imagine they should go to heaven blindfold, or be rolled
thither as stones that know not whither they are moved; in
which case the gospel, that reveals the eternal glory, and the
way to it, were a useless thing. If so express words had not
been in the Bible, as that Moses had respect to the recompense
of reward; yea, that our Lord Jesus himself, for the joy set be-
fore him endured the cross, &c. this had been a little more color-
able, or more modest. And what, do not all men, in all the or-
*Therefore as to that form of expression-that such acts of unregenerate
men are sins,-that is a catachrestical piece of rhetoric, which being so un-
derstood, is harmless; but to use it in propriety of speech, and thence to go
to make men believe, that it is a sin to do their duty, is void both of truth
and sense, and full of danger unto the souls of men.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
183
dinary actions of their lives, act allowably enough, with intui-
tion to much lower ends? even those particular ends which the
works of their several callings tend to, else they should act as
brutes in every thing they do. And would such a one scruple,
if he were pining for want of bread, to beg or labor for it for
this end, to be relieved? It is the mistaking of the notion of
heaven that hath also an ingrediency into this doubt, if it be
really a doubt. What! is it a low thing to be filled with the di-
vine fulness? to have his glory replenishing our souls? to be
perfectly freed from sin? in every thing conformed unto his holy
nature and will? That our minding our interest in this, or any
affairs, should be the principal thing with us, is not to be thought:
our supreme end must be the same with his, who made all things
for himself, of whom, through whom, and to whom all things are,
that he alone might have the glory. But subordinates need not
quarrel. A lower end doth not exclude the higher, but serves
it and is, as to it, a means. God is our end as he is to be glori-
fied and enjoyed by us our glorifying him is but the agnition of
his glory; which we do most in beholding and partaking it;
which is therefore in direct subordination thereto.
(3.) But it may further be doubted, What if it be acknowledg-
ed, that these are both things possible and lawful; yet to what
purpose will it be to attempt any thing in this kind? O what as-
surance have I of success! Is there any word of promise for the
encouragement of one in my case? Or is God under any obliga-
tion to reward the endeavors of nature with special grace?
Wherefore, when I have done all I can, he may withhold his in-
fluence, and then I am but where I was, and may perish not-
withstanding. And suppose thou perish notwithstanding? Do but
yet consult a little with thy own thoughts: which is more toler-
able and easy to thee to perish, as not attaining what thy fainter
strugglings could not reach; or for the most direct, wilful rebel-
lion, doing wickedly as thou couldst? Or who shall have, think-
est thou, the more fearful condemnation? He that shall truly say
when his master comes to judgment, "I never had indeed, Lord,
a heart so fully changed and turned to thee, as should denote me
to be the subject of thy saving, pardoning mercy; but thou
knowest (who knowest all things) I longed (and with some ear-
nestness) did endeavor it. Thou hast been privy to my secret
desires and moans, to the weak strivings of a listless distemper-
ed spirit, not pleased with itself, aiming at a better temper to-
wards thee. I neglected not thy prescribed means; only that
grace which I could not challenge, thou wast pleased not to give:
thou didst require what I must confess myself to have owed
thee; thou didst withhold only what thou owedst me not; there-
fore must I yield myself a convicted, guilty wretch, and have.
nothing to say why thy sentence should not pass." Or he that
shall as truly hear from the mouth of his Judge, "Sinner, thou
184
THE BLESSEDNESS
wast often fore-warned of this approaching day, and called upon
to provide for it; thou hadst precept upon precept, and line up-
on line. The counsels of life and peace were with frequent im-
portunity pressed upon thee, but thou rejectedst all with proud
contempt, didst despise with the same profane scorn the offers,
commands, and threats of him that made thee; hardenest thy
heart to the most obstinate rebellion against his known laws;
didst all the wickedness to which thy heart prompted thee, with-
out restraint; declinedst every thing of duty which his authori-
ty, and the exigency of thy own case did oblige thee to; didst
avoid as much as thou couldst to hear or know any thing of my
will; couldst not find one serious, considering hour in a whole
life-time, to bethink thyself, what was likely to become of thee
when thy place on earth should know thee no more.
mightst know, thou wast at my mercy, thy breath in my hand,
and that I could easily have cut thee off any moment of that
large space of time, my patience allowed thee in the world; yet
thou never thoughtest it worth the while to sue to me for thy
life. Destruction from the Lord was never a terror to thee.
Thou wouldst never be brought upon thy knees; I had none of
thy addresses; never didst thou sigh out a serious request for
mercy; thy soul was not worth so much in thy account. Thy
blood, wretch, be upon thy guilty head: Depart accursed into
everlasting flames, &c."
Thou
Come now, use thy reason awhile, employ a few sober
thoughts about this matter; remember, thou wilt have a long
eternity wherein to recognize the passages of thy life, and the
state of thy case in the last judgment. Were it supposable that
one who had done as the former, should be left finally destitute
of divine grace and perish: yet in which of these cases wouldst
thou choose to be found at last? But why yet shouldst thou ima-
gine so sad an issue, as that after thine utmost endeavors, grace
should be withheld, and leave thee to perish; because God hath
not bound himself by promise to thee? What promise have the
ravens to be heard when they cry? But thou art a sinner: true,
otherwise thou wert not without promise; the promises of the
first covenant would at least belong to thee. Yet experience
tells the world, his unpromised mercies freely flow every-
where; The whole earth is full of his goodness; yea, but his
special grace is conveyed by promise only, and that only through
Christ; and how can it be communicated through him to any but
those that are in him? What then, is the first in-being in Christ
no special grace? or is there any being in him before the first:
that should be the ground of that gracious communication? Things
are plain enough, if we make them not intricate, or entangle
ourselves by foolish subtilties. God promises sinners indefinite-
ly, pardon and eternal life, for the sake of Christ, on condition
that they believe on him. He gives of his good pleasure that
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
185
grace whereby he draws any to Christ, without promise directly
made to them, whether absolute or conditional; though he give
it for the sake of Christ also. His discovery of His purpose to give.
such grace to some, indefinitely, amounts not to a promise claima-
ble by any; for if it be said to be an absolute promise to particular
persons, who are they? whose duty is it to believe it made to
him? If conditional, what are the conditions upon which the
first grace is certainly promised? who can be able to assign them?
But poor soul! thou needest not stay to puzzle thyself about
this matter. God binds himself to do what he promises; but
hath he any where bound himself to do no more? Did he prom-
ise thee thy being; or that thou shouldst live to this day? did he
promise thee the bread that sustains thee, the daily comforts of
thy life? Yea, (what is nearer the present purpose,) did he
promise thee a station under the gospel? or that thou shouldst
ever hear the name of Christ? If ever his Spirit have in any de-
gree moved upon thy heart, inclined thee at all seriously to con-
sider thy eternal concernments, did he before-hand make thee
any promise of that? A promise would give thee a full certainty
of the issue, if it were absolute, out of hand; if conditional, as
soon as thou findest the condition performed. But what! canst
thou act upon no lower rate than a foregoing certainty, a pre-as-
surance of the event? My friend, consider a little, (what thou
canst not but know already) that it is hope (built with those that
are rational, upon rational probabilities, with many, oftentimes
upon none at all) is the great engine that moves the world, that
keeps all sorts of men in action. Doth the husbandman fore-
know when he plows and sows, that the crop will answer his
cost and pains? Doth the merchant foreknow, when he embarks
his goods, he shall have a safe and gainful return? Dost thou
foreknow, when thou eatest, it shall refresh thee? when thou
takest physic, that it shall recover thy health, and save thy life?
Yea further, can the covetous man pretend a promise, that his
unjust practices shall enrich him? the malicious, that he shall
prosper in his design of revenge? the ambitious, that he shall be
great and honorable? the voluptuous, that his pleasure shall be
always unmixed with gall and wormwood? Can any say, they
ever had a promise to ascertain them that profaneness and sensu-
ality would bring them to heaven? that an ungodly, dissolute life
would end in blessedness? Here the Lord knows men can be
confident and active enough without a promise, and against
many an express threatening. Wilt thou not upon the hope thou
hast before thee, do as much for thy soul, for eternal blessedness,
as men do for uncertain riches, short pleasures, an airy, soon
blasted name? yea, as much as men desperately do to damn
themselves, and purchase their own swift destruction? Or canst
thou pretend, thou hast no pre-assuring promise, thou hast no
hope? Is it nothing to have heard so much of God's gracious na-
VOL. I.
24.
186
THE BLESSEDNESS
ture? Is it suitable to the reports, and discoveries he hath made
of himself, to let a poor wretch perish at his feet, that lies pros-
trate there expecting his mercy? Didst thou ever hear he was
so little a lover of souls? Do his giving his Son, his earnest, un-
wearied strivings with sinners, his long patience, the clear beams
of gospel light, the amiable appearances of his grace, give
ground for no better, no kinder thoughts of him? yea, hath he
not expressly styled himself the God hearing prayers, taken a
name on purpose to encourage all flesh to come to him. Psal.
65. 2. Wilt thou dare then to adopt those profane words, What
profit is it to pray to him? (Job. 21. 15.) and say, it is better to
sit still, resolving to perish, than address to him, or seek his fa-
vor, because he hath not by promise assured thee of the issue,
and that, if he suspend his grace, all thou dost will be in vain ?
How wouldst thou judge of the like resolution, if the husband-
man should say, When I have spent my pains and cost in break-
ing up and preparing the earth, and casting in my seed; if the
sun shine not, and the rain fall not in season, if the influences of
heaven be suspended, if God withhold his blessing, or if an in-
vading enemy anticipate my harvest, all I do and expend is to
no purpose; and God hath not ascertained me of the contrary,
by express promise, it is as good therefore sit still? Censure and
answer him and thyself both together.
(4.) But thou wilt yet, it may be, say that though all this may
be possibly true, yet thou canst not all this while be convinced
of any need so earnestly to busy thyself about this affair. For
God is wont to surprise souls by preventing acts of grace, to be
found of them that sought him not, to break in by an irresistible
power, which they least thought of. And to go about to antici-
pate his grace, were to detract from the freeness, and so from
the glory of it. But art thou not in all this afraid of charging
God foolishly? When the merciful God, in compassion to the
souls of men, hath given his gospel, constituted and settled a
standing office to be perpetuated through all ages for the publi-
cation of it; invited the world therein to a treaty with him,
touching the concernments of their eternal peace required so
strictly their attendance to, and most serious consideration of his
proposals and offers; encouraged, and commanded their address-
es to him, set up a throne of grace on purpose, wilt thou dare
to say, All this is needless for thee to hear him, or regard what
he saith? or when he commands thee to pour forth thy soul to
him, wilt thou say, It is a needless thing? Dost thou not plainly
see, that the peculiar, appropriate aptitude of the things pressed
upon thee, speaks them necessitas medii, necessary, as means to
their designed end; whence they are fitly called means of grace
Is not the word of God the immortal seed? Are not souls begot-
ten by that word to be the first fruits of his creatures ?* Is it not
*1 Pet. 1. 23. Jam. 1. 18. Rom. 6. 17. John 17. 17.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
187
the type, the mould, or print by which divine impressions are
put upon the soul: the instrument by which he sanctifies. Are
not the exceeding great and precious promises, the vehicula, the
conveyancers of the divine nature? 2 Pet. 1. 4. And what can
be the means to mollify and melt the obdurate heart of a sinner,
to assuage its enmity, to overcome it into the love of God, to
transform it into his image, but the gospel discovery of God's
own gracious and holy nature? And can it operate to this pur-
pose without being heard, or read, or understood, and consider-
ed, and taken to heart? Do but compare this means God works
by, with the subject to be wrought upon, and the effect to be
wrought, and nothing can be conceived more adequate and fitly
corresponding. But inasmuch as there hath been an enmity be-
tween God and sinners, and that therefore the whole entire
means of reconciliation must be a treaty; and that a treaty can-
not be managed or conceived without mutual interlocution, there-
fore must the sinner have a way of expressing its own sense to
God, as well as he speaks his mind to it; which shews the ne-
cessity of prayer too and therefore, because the peace begins
on his part, (though the war began on ours,) he calls upon sin-
ners to open themselves to him; Come now, let us reason to-
gether Isa. 1. 18. He invites addresses; Seek the Lord while
he may be found, and call upon him while he is nigh, &c. chap.
55. 6. And doth not the natural relation itself between the Cre-
ator and a creature require this besides the exigency of our pre-
sent case? Every creature is a supplicant; its necessary depend-
ance is a natural prayer. The eyes of all things look up, &c. It
is the proper glory of a Deity to be depended on and addressed
Should not a people seek unto their God? Isa. S. 19. It is
an appeal to reason; is it not a congruous thing?
to.
Further, Dost thou not know, thy Maker's will made known
infers upon thee a necessitas præcepti, necessity of obeying; un-
less thou think the breach between God and thee is better to be
healed by rebellion; and that the only way to expiate wicked-
ness, were to continue and multiply it. Is it a needless thing to
comply with the will of him that gave thee breath and being?
And whose power is so absolute over thee, as to all thy concern-
ments, both of time and eternity? Again, while thou pretendest
these things are needless, come now, speak out freely; what are
the more necessary affairs wherein thou art so deeply engaged,
that thou canst not suffer a diversion? What Is the service and
gratification of thy flesh and sense so important a business, that
thou canst be at no leisure for that more needless work of sav-
ing thy soul? Where is thy reason and modesty? Dost thou
mind none other, from day to day, but necessary affairs? Dost
thou use, when thou art tempted to vain dalliances, empty dis-
courses, intemperate indulgence to thy appetite, so to answer
the temptation, Is it not necessary? Or art thou so destitute of
188
1
THE BLESSEDNESS
all conscience and shame, to think it unnecessary to work out
thy salvation, to strive to enter in at the strait gate that leads to
life? but most indispensably necessary to be very critically curi-
ous about what thou shalt eat and drink, and put on; and how
to spend thy time with greatest ease and pleasure to thy flesh,
that it may not have the least cause to complain it is neglected?
Thy pretence, that God is wont to be found of them that sought
him not, (Isa. 65. 1.) to the purpose thou intendest it, is a most
ignorant or malicious abuse of scripture. The prophet is, in the
text, foretelling the calling of the Gentiles, who, while they re-
mained such, did not (it is true) inquire after God; but then he
expressly tells us, (personating God, ) I am sought of them that ask-
ed not for me, (that is, after the gospel came among them,) and
then it is added, I am fouud (upon this seeking, plainly) of them
that sought me not, (that is, who once in their former darkness,
before I revealed myself in the gospel dispensation to them,
sought me not :) as though he had said, I am now sought of a
people that lately sought me not, nor asked after me, and I am
found of them. But what is this to thy case; whom God hath
been, in the gospel, earnestly inviting to seek after him, and thou
all this while refusest to comply with the invitation?
And suppose thou hear of some rare instance of persons, sud-
denly snatched by the hand of grace out of the midst of their
wickedness, as fire-brands out of the fire, Is it therefore the sa-
fest course to go on in a manifest rebellion against God, till pos-
sibly he may do so by thee also? How many thousands may
have dropped into hell since thou heardest of such an instance ?
as a worthy person speaks to that purpose.* If thou hast heard
of one Elijah fed by ravens, and of some thousands by our Sa-
viour's miracles, canst thou thence plead a repeal of that law to
the world, They that will not labor shall not eat? Or is it a
safer or wiser course to wait till food drop into thy mouth from
heaven, than to use a prudent care for the maintenance of thy
life? If thou say, thou hearest but of few that are wrought
upon in this way, of their own foregoing expectation and endea-
vor; remember, (and let the thought of it startle thee,) that
there are but few that are saved. And therefore are so few
wrought upon in this way, because so few will be persuaded to
it. But canst thou say (though God hath not bound himself to the
mere natural endeavors of his creature neither,) that ever any
took this course, and persist with faithful diligence, but they
succeeded in it? What thou talkest of the freeness of God's
grace, looks like a hypocritical pretence. Is there no way to
honor his grace, but by affronting his authority? but to sin,
that grace may abound? sure grace will be better pleased by
obedience, than by such sacrifice. For a miserable, perishing
*Mr. Baxter.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
189
wretch to use God's means to help itself, doth that look like
merit? Is the beggar afraid thou shouldst interpret his coming
to thy door and seeking thy alms, to signify, as if he thought he
had deserved them? I hope thou wilt acknowledge thyself less
than the least of all God's mercies, and that thou canst not de-
serve from him a morsel of bread; mayst thou not therefore in
thy necessity labor for thy living, lest thou shouldst intrench
upon the freeness of divine bounty? With as much wisdom and
reason mightest thou decline the use of all other means to pre-
serve thy life, (which thou must owe always to free mercy,) to
eat when thou art hungry, to take physic when thou art sick,
lest thou shouldst intimate thyself to have merited the strength
and health sought thereby. Nor can I think of any rational pre-
tence that can more plausibly be insisted on, than these that have
been thus briefly discussed. And it must needs be difficult to
bring any appearance of reason for the patronage of so ill a
cause, as the careless giving up of a man's soul to perish eter-
nally, that is visibly capable of eternal blessedness.
And cer-
tainly were we once apprehensive of the case, the attempt of
disputing a man into such a resolution, would appear much more
ridiculous, than if one should gravely urge arguments to all the
neighborhood, to persuade them to burn their houses, to put out
their eyes, to kill their children, and to cut their own throats.
And sure, let all imaginable pretence be debated to the utter-
most, and it will appear, that nothing withholds men from put-
ting forth all their might in the endeavor of getting a spirit suit-
able to this blessedness, but an obstinately perverse and sluggish
heart, despoiled and naked of all shew of reason and excuse.
And though that be a hard task to reason against mere will, yet
that being the way to make men willing, and the latter part of
the work proposed in pursuance of this direction, I shall recom-
mend only such considerations as the text itself will suggest, for
the stirring up and persuading of slothful reluctant hearts, choos-
ing those as the most proper limits, and not being willing to be
infinite herein, as amidst so great a variety of considerations to
that purpose, one might.
That in general which I shall propose, shall be only the mise-
ry of the unrighteous; whereof we may take a view in the op-
posite blessedness here described. The contradictories whereto
will afford a negative, the contraries a positive description of
this misery. So that each consideration will be double; which
I shall now rather glance at than insist upon.
[1.] Consider then, if thou be found at last unqualified for
this blessedness, how wilt thou bear it to be banished eternally
from the blessed face of God? There will be those that shall
behold that face in righteousness; so shalt not thou: The wick-
ed is driven away in his wickedness, with a "Never more see
my face." Again, What amazing visions wilt thou have! What
190
THE BLESSEDNESS
ghastly, frightful objects to converse with, amidst those horrors
of eternal darkness; when the devil and his angels shall be thy
everlasting associates! What direful images shall those accurs-
ed, enraged spirits, and thy own fruitful parturient imagination
forever entertain thee with, and present to thy view!
[2.] Is it a small thing with thee, to be destitute of all those
inherent excellencies which the perfected image of God, where-
of thou wast capable, comprehends? View them over in that
(too defective) account some of the former pages give thee of
them. Thou art none of those bright stars, those sons of the
morning, those blessed, glorified spirits, thou mightest have
been. But consider, What art thou? What shalt thou forever
be? What image or likeness shalt thou bear?
Alas, poor
:
wretch, thou art now a fiend! conformed to thy hellish partners:
thou bearest their accursed likeness. Death is now finished in
thee and as thou sowest to the flesh, thou reapest corruption.
Thou art become a loathsome carcase; the worms that never
die, abound in thy putrified, filthy soul. Thou hast a hell in
thee. Thy venomous lusts are now grown mature, are in their
full grown state. If a world of iniquity, a fulness of deadly
poison, tempered by hell-fire, is here sometimes to be found in
a little member, what will there then be in all thy parts and
powers!
[3.] Consider, how blessed a satisfaction dost thou lose? how
pleasant and delightful a rest, arising both from the sight of so
much glory, and so peaceful a temper and constitution of spirit?
Here thou mightest have enjoyed an eternal undisturbed rest.
But for rest and satisfaction, thou hast vexation and endless tor-
ment, both by what thou beholdest, and what thou feelest with-
in thee. Thy dreadful vision shall not let thee rest: but the
chiefest matter of thy disquiet and torment is in the very tem-
per and constitution of thy soul. Thy horrid lusts are fuller of
poisonous energy, and are destitute of their wonted objects,
whence they turn all their power and fury upon thy miserable
self. Thy enraged passions would fly in the face of God, but
they spend themselves in tormenting the soul that bred them.
Thy curses and blasphemies, the envenomed darts pointed at
heaven, are reverberated and driven back into thy own heart.
And therefore,
[4.] Consider, What awaking hast thou? Thou awakest not
into the mild and cheerful light of that blessed day, wherein
the saints of the most high hold their solemn, joyful triumph. But
thou awakest into the great and terrible day of the Lord (dost
thou desire it, for what end is it to thee?) a day of darkness,
and not light; a gloomy and stormy day. The day of thy birth
is not a more hateful, than this is a dreadful day. Thou awakest
and art beset with terrors, presently apprehended and dragged
before thy glorious, severe Judge, and thence into eternal tor-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
191
ments. O happy thou, mightest thou never awake, might the
grave conceal, and its more silent darkness cover thee forever.
But since thou must awake then, how much more happy wert
thou, if thou wouldst suffer thyself to be awakened now! What,
to lose and endure so much, because thou wilt not now a little
bestir thyself, and look about thee? Sure thy conscience tells
thee, thou art urged but to what is possible; and lawful, and
hopeful, and necessary; methinks, if thou be a man, and not a
stone, if thou hast a reasonable soul about thee, thou shouldst
presently fall to work, and rather spend thy days in serious
thoughts, and prayers, and tears, than run the hazard of losing
so transcendent a glory, and of suffering misery, which as now
thou art little able to conceive, thou wilt then be less able to en-
dure.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Rule 4. Directing to the endeavor of a gradual improvement in such a dis-
posedness of spirit (as shall be found in any measure already attained) to
wards this blessedness. That it is blessedness begun which disposes to the
consummate state of it. That we are therefore to endeavor the daily in-
crease of our present knowledge of God, conformity to him, and the sa-
tisfiedness of our spirits therein.
4. That when we find ourselves in any disposition towards
this blessedness, we endeavor a gradual improvement therein, to
get the habitual temper of our spirits made daily more suitable
to it. We must still remember we have not yet attained, and
must therefore continue pressing forward to this mark, for the
prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Phil. 3. 14.
BgaBov. That prize (not price, as we commonly mis-read it in
our bibles) of which the apostle here speaks, is (as may be seen
by looking back to verse 8, 9, &c.) the same with the blessed-
ness in the text. Such a knowledge of Christ, as should infer
at last his participation with him in his state of glory; or of the
resurrection of the dead. This is the ultimate term, the scope
or end of that high calling of God in Christ; so it is also stated
elsewhere, Who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ
Jesus. 1 Pet. 5. 10. Now we should therefore frequently re-
count how far short we are of this glory, and stir up our souls
to more vigorous endeavors in order to it. Our suitableness
to this blessedness stands in our having the elements and first
principles of it in us; it is glory only that fits for glory; some
192
THE BLESSEDNESS
previous sights and impressions of it, and a pleasant complacen-
tial relish thereof, that frame and attemper us by degrees to the
full and consummate state of it. This is that therefore we must
endeavor, A growing knowledge of God, conformity to him, and
satisfiedness of spirit therein. What we expect should be one
day perfect, we must labor may be, in the mean time, always
growing.
(1.) Our knowledge of God. The knowledge of Him I here
principally intend, is not notional and speculative, but (which is
more ingredient to our blessedness, both inchoate and perfect).
that of converse, that familiar knowledge which we usually ex-
press by the name of acquaintance. See that this knowledge of
him be increased daily. Let us now use ourselves much with God.
Our knowledge of him must aim at conformity to him: and how
powerful a thing is converse in order hereto? How insensibly is
it wont to transform men, and mould anew their spirits, language,
garb, deportment? To be removed from the solitude or rude-
ness of the country to a city or university, what an alteration
doth it make? How is such a person divested by degress of his
rusticity, of his more uncomely and agressed manners? Objects
we converse with, beget their image upon us, They walked after
vanity, and became vain, (Jer. 2. 5.) saith Jeremiah; and Solo-
mon, He that walketh with the wise, shall be wise. Prov. 13. 20.
Walking is a usual expression of converse. So to converse with
the holy, is the way to be holy, with heaven, the way to be heav-
enly, with God, the way to be God-like. Let us therefore make
this our present business, much to acquaint ourselves with God.
We count upon seeing him face to face, of being always in his
presence beholding his glory; that speaketh very intimate ac-
qnaintance indeed. How shall we reach that pitch? What, to
live now as strangers to him? Is that the way? The path of the
righteous is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto
the perfect day. Prov. 4. 18. The text shews us the righteous
man's end, To behold the glory of God's face, &c. it is easy to
apprehend then, his way must needs have in it a growing bright-
ness, as he comes still nearer this end. Every nearer approach
to a lucid thing infers (to us) an increase of light from it. We
should therefore be following on to know the Lord, and we shall
see his going forth will be before us as the morning. Hos. 6. 3.
He will be still visiting us with renewed, increasing light, for
such is morning-light, fresh and growing-light,) and ere long it
will be perfect day. Labor we to improve our knowledge of
God to such a degree of acquaintance as our present state can
admit of to be as inward with him as we can, to familiarize our-
selves to him. His gospel aims at this, to make those that were
afar off nigh. Far-distant objects we can have no distinct view
of. He can give us little account of a person that hath only seen
him afar off, so God beholds the proud afar off, that is, he will
!
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
193
have no acquaintance with them: whereas with the humble he
will be familiar; he will dwell, (as in a family) with them. Isa.
57. 15. So the ungodly behold God till he bring them in, and
make them nigh; then they are no longer strangers, but of his
Several
family and household, now thoroughly acquainted.
notes there are of a thorough acquaintance which we should en-
deavor may concur in our acquaintance with God, in that analo-
gy which the case will bear :-to know his nature; or (as we
would speak of a man,) what will please and displease him so as
to be able in the whole course of our daily conversation to ap-
prove ourselves to him: to have the skill so to manage our con-
versation, as to continue a correspondence, not interrupted by
any our offensive unpleasing demeanors: to walk worthy of God
unto all well-pleasing. It concerns us most to study and endeavor
this practical knowledge of the nature of God; what trust, and
love, and fear, and purity, &c. his faithfulness, and greatness,
his goodness, and holiness, &c. do challenge from us: what may
in our daily walking be agreeable, what repugnant to the several
attributes of his being. To know his secrets; to be as it were
of the cabinet-council, (the word used by the Psalmist psal. 25.
14. hath a peculiar significancy to that purpose; to signify, not
only counsel, but a council, or the consessus of persons that con-
sult together,) this is his gracions vouchsafement, to humble,
reverential souls. The secret of the Lord is with them that fear
him; such acquaintance with him is to be sought, to know the
(communicable) secrets both of his mind and heart. Of his
mind, his truths, gospel-mysteries, that were kept secret from
ages and generations. We have the mind of Christ. This is
great inwardness, of his heart; his love, his good-will, his kind
bosom thoughts towards our souls. To know his methods, and
the course of his dispensations towards the world, his church,
and especially our own spirits: this is great knowledge of God,
to have the skill to trace his footsteps, and observe by compar-
ing times with times, that such a course he more usually holds ;
and accordingly, with great probability, collect from what we
have seen and observed, what we may expect: what order and
succession there is of storms of wrath, to clouds of sin; and
again of peaceful, lucid intervals, when such storms have infer-
red penitential tears in what exigencies, and distresses, humble
mourners may expect God's visits and consolations: to recount
in how great extremities former experience hath taught us not
to despair; and from such experience still to argue ourselves in-
to fresh reviving hopes, when the state of things (whether pub-
lic or private, outward or spiritual) seems forlorn. To know the
proper seasons of address to him; and how to behave ourselves
most acceptably in his presence, in what dispositions and pos-
tures of spirit, we are fittest for his converse, so as to be able to
come to him in a good hour, in a time when he may be found;
VOL. I.
25
194
THE BLESSEDNESS
(Psal. 32. 6.) to know his voice: this discovers acquaintance.
The ear trieth words, as the mouth tasteth meats, Job. 12. 11.
God's righteous ones, that are filled with the fruits of righteous-
ness, do proportionably abound in knowledge, Phil. 1. 9. and in
all sense. aloonTngia yeyuuvaσuéva, Heb. 5. 14. They have quick,
naked, unvitiated senses, to discern between good and evil; yea,
and can have the suffrage of several senses concerning the same
objects; they have a kind of taste in their ear. They taste the
good word of God, even in his previous workings on them. Heb.
6. 5. Being new-born they are intimated to have tasted in the word
how gracious the Lord is. As they grow up thereby, they have
still a more judicious sense, and can more certainly distinguish,
when God speaks to them, and when a stranger goes about to
counterfeit his voice. John 10. They can tell at first hearing,
what is grateful and nutritive, what offensive and hurtful to the
divine life; what is harmonious and agreeable, what dissonant
to the gospel already received, so that an angel from heaven
must expect no welcome, if he bring another. To know his in-
ward motions and impulses ; when his hand toucheth our hearts,
to be able to say this is the finger of God, there is something di-
vine in this touch. My beloved put in his hand by the hole of
the door, and my bowels were moved. Cant. 5. 4. This speaks
acquaintance when the soul can say, I know this very touch
the least impression from him, I can distinguish it from thousands
of objects that daily beat upon my heart. To understand his
looks ;* to know the meaning of his aspects, and glances of the
various casts, as it were of his eye. Such things intimate friends
can, in a sort, talk by, with one another; I will guide thee by
mine eye; that implies an intelligent teachable subject. We
have now no full-eyed appearances of God; he shews himself,
looks in upon us through the lattice, through a veil, or a shadow,
or a glass. That measure of acquaintance with him to be able
to discern and own him in his appearances, is a great participa-
tion of heaven, utter unacquaintance with God is expressed by
the denial of these two, ye have neither heard his voice, nor
seen his shape, John. 5. 37.
Finally, which brings us home to the text, to keep our eye in-
tentively fixed on him, not to understand his looks only as be-
fore, but to return our own. Intimate acquaintance (when such
friends meet) is much expressed, and improved by the eye, by
a reciprocation of glances, or (which speaks more inwardness)
more fixed views; when their eyes do even feed and feast upon
each other. Thus we should endeavour to be as in a continual
* So we apprehend God proportionably more clearly as the idea we have
of a person is more distinct that we have of him by the sight of his picture
or face through a glass, beyond that which we have by hearing a reported
description of him, though by himself unseen. This is acquaintance with
God.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
195
interview with God. How frequent mention have we of the
fixed posture of his eye towards saints. To this man will I look ;
I have found out, as though he had said, that which shall be ever
the delight of mine eye. Do not divert me, towards him I will
look. What he speaks of the material temple is ultimately to be
referred to that which is typified; his church, his saints, united
with his Christ, Mine eyes and my heart shall be there perpetu-
ally; and elsewhere, He withdraweth not his eyes from the
righteous; he cannot (admirable grace) allow himself to look
off, to turn aside his eye: and he seems impatient of the aver-
sion of theirs, Let me see thy countenance (saith he) for it is
comely.
*
Is it not much more reasonable, it should be thus with us to-
wards Him? that we should be more delighted to behold real
comeliness than He with what is so, only by his gracious vouch-
safement and estimation? How careful should we be, that our eye
may at every turn meet his; that he never looks towards us,
and find it in the ends of the earth, carelessly wandering from
Him? How well doth it become us, to set the Lord always be-
fore us to have our eye towards the Lord? Psal. 16. 8.-25.
15. This you see is the initial, leading thing in this blessed-
ness of heaven. So it must have also a prime ingrediency into
our heaven on earth. It is a part of celestial blessedness; but
it is not peculiar to it. The present blessedness the righteous
enjoy here is a participation of heaven. It hath something in it
of every thing that is ingredient into that perfect blessedness.
Our present knowledge of God is often expressed by vision, or
sight, as we have had occasion to observe in many passages of
Scripture. He hath given us such a visive power, and made
it connatural to that heavenly creature, begotten of Him, in all
the true subjects of his blessedness. We know that we are of
God, and presently it follows, He hath given us an understanding
to know Him that is true. 1 John. 5. 15. 20. This new man
is not born blind. The blessed God himself is become liable to
the view of his regenerate, intellectual eye, clarified, and filled
with vigor and spirit from Himself. He therefore that hath
made, that hath new-formed his eye, shall not he be seen by it?
shall not we turn it upon Him? Why do not we more frequent-
ly bless our eye with that sight? This object (though of so high
excellency and glory) will not hurt, but perfect and strengthen
it. They are refreshing, vital beams that issue from it. Sure
we have no excuse that we eye God so little, that is, that we
mind Him no more. Why have we so few thoughts of Him in a
day? What, to let so much time pass, and not spare Him a
look, a thought? Do we intend to employ ourselves an eternity
in the visions of God, and is our present aversion from Him, and
*1 King 9. 3. Job. 36. 7. Psal. 33. 18. & 34. 15. Cant. 2. 14.
196
THE BLESSEDNESS
intention upon vanity, our best preparation thereto? This loud-
ly calls for redress. Shall God be waiting all the day, as on pur-
pose to catch our eye, to intercept a look, and we studiously de-
cline Him, and still look another way, as of choice? and what
is it but choice? Can we pretend a necessity to forget Him all
the day? How cheap is the expense of a look? How little
would it cost us? And yet how much of duty might it express?
how much of comfort and joy might it bring into us?
How great is our offence and loss, that we live not in such
more constant views of God? Herein we sin and suffer both at
once, things both very unsuitable to heaven. Mindfulness of
God is the living spring of all holy and pleasant affections and
deportments towards Him; sets all the wheels a going; makes
the soul as the chariots of Aminadab. These wheels have their
eyes also, are guided by a mind, by an intellectual principle.
Knowing, intelligent beings (as we also are by participation and
according to our measure) so act mutually towards one another.
We cannot move towards God but with an open eye, seeing Him
and our way towards Him. If we close our eyes we stand still,
or blindly run another course, we know not whither. All sin is
darkness, whether it be neglect of good, or doing of evil: its
way is a way of darkness; as a course of holy motion is walk-
ing in the light. Our shutting our eyes towards God creates that
darkness; surrounds us with a darkness comprehensive of all
sin. Now is every thing of enjoined duty waived, and any evil
done, that sinful nature prompts us to. Well might it be said, He
that sinneth hath not seen God. 1 John. 3. 6. When we have
made ouselves this darkness, we fall of course under Satan's em-
pire, and are presently within his dominions. He is the prince
of darkness, and can rule us now at his will. Perishing lost
souls are such as in whom the God of this world hath blinded
their minds. To open their eyes, and turn them from darkness
to light, is, to turn them also from the power of Satan unto
God. What a hell of wickedness are we brought into, in the
twinkling of an eye? We are without God in the world, as if
a man wink, though at noon-day, he hath as it were put out the
sun, it is with him as if there were no such thing. When we
have banished God out of our sight and forgotten Him, it is with
us as if there were no God. If such a state grow habitual to us,
(as we know every sinful aversion of our eye from God tends
thereto,) what wickedness is there that will not lurk in this
darkness? How often in Scripture is forgetting God used as a
character, yea, as a paraphrase, a full, though summary, express-
ion of sin in general? as if the wickedness, the malignity, the
very hell itself of sin, were wholly included (and not connoted
only) here. Now consider this (after so dreadful an enumer-
ation, so black a catalogue) all that forget God. Psal. 50. And
(as deep calleth to deep, one hell to another,) The wicked shall
1
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
197
be turned into hell, and all the people that forget God. Psal. 9.
That heap, that mass of wickedness, of pride, of persecution,
cursing, blasphemy, deceit, and mischief, all meet in one that
hath not God in all his thoughts.
But who is so hardy to look the holy God in the face, and sin
against Him? What an astonishment is it, when He watches over
present sin, or brings forth former sins out of secret darkness.
and sets them in the light of his countenance? Who that un-
derstands any thing of the nature and majesty of God, dare call
Him for a witness of his sinning? The worst of men would
find themselves under some restraint, could they but obtain
of themselves, to sit down sometimes and solemnly think of
God. Much more would it prove an advantage to (them whom
I most intend) such as sin within the nearer call and reach of
mercy that sin not to the utmost latitude: even such as lead
the strictest lives, and are seldomer found to transgress; are not
their sins wont to begin with forgetting God? Did they eye
God more, would they not sin less frequently, and with greater
regret? You his saints, that have made a covenant with him by
sacrifice, that profess the greatest love and devotedness to him
and seem willing yourselves to become sacrifices, and lay down
your lives for his sake; What, is it a harder thing to give Him
a look, a thought? or is it not too common
or is it not too common a thing, without ne-
cessity (and then not without injury) to withhold these from
Him? Let us bethink ourselves, are not the principal distem-
pers of our spirits, and disorders yet observable in our lives to
be referred hither? As to enjoined services; what, should we
venture on omissions, if we had God in our eye? or serve him
with so declining, backward hearts? Should we dare to let pass
a day, in the even whereof we might write down, nothing done
for God this day? or should we serve Him as a hard master,
with sluggish, despondent spirits? The apostle forbids servants
to serve with eye-service, as men-pleasers; meaning they should.
eye men less and God more. Sure, as to Him, our service is
not enough eye-service. We probably eye men more than we
should; but we do not eye Him enough. Hence such hanging
of hands, such feebleness of knees, such laziness and indifferen-
cy, so little of an active zeal and laborious diligence, so little
fervency of spirit in serving the Lord. Hence also such an
aversion to hazardous services, such fear of attempting any thing
(though never so apparent important duty) that may prove cost-
ly, or hath danger in it. We look not to him that is invisible.
And as to forbidden things; should we be so proud, so passion-
ate, so earthly, so sensual, if we had God more in view? should we
so much seek ourselves, and indulge our own wills and humors,
drive a design with such solicitude and intention of mind for
our private interests? should we walk at such a latitude, and
more consult our own inclination than our rule, allow ourselves
in so much vanity of conversation, did we mind God as we
198
THE BLESSEDNESS
ought? And do not we sensibly punish ourselves in this
lect? what a dismal chaos is this world while we see not God
neg-
in it! To live destitute of a divine presence, to discern no
beam of the heavenly glory; to go up and down day by day,
and perceive nothing of God, no glimmering, no appearance;
this is disconsolate as well as sinful darkness. What can we
make of creatures, what of the daily events of providence, if we
see not in them the glory of a Deity; if we do not contemplate
and adore the divine wisdom, power, and goodness, diffused eve-
ery where? Our practical atheism, and inobservance of God,
makes the world become to us the region and shadow of death,
states us as among ghosts and spectres, makes all things look
with a ghastly face, imprints death upon every thing we see, en-
circles us with gloomy, dreadful shades, and with uncomfortable
apparitions. To behold the tragical spectacles always in view,
the violent lusts, the rapine and rage of some, the calamitous
sufferings, the miseries and ruin of others; to hear every cor-
ner resounding with the insultations of the oppressor, and the
mournful groans of the oppressed, what a painful continuing
death were it to be in the world without God! At the best, all
things were but a vanishing scene, an image seen in the dark.
The creation, a thing, the fashion whereof were passing away,
the whole contexture and system of providence were mere con-
fusion, without the least concinnity or order: religion an ac-
knowledged trifle, a mere mockery? What, to wink ourselves
into so much darkness and desolation, and by sealing up our
eyes against the divine light and glory, to confirm so formidable.
miseries upon our own souls! How dreadfully shall we herein
revenge our own folly, in nullifying Him to ourselves, who is
the all in all! Sure there is little of heaven in all this!
if now we open our eyes upon that all comprehending glory,
apply them to a steady intuition of God, how heavenly a life
shall we then live in the world! To have God always in view,
as the director and end of all our actions: to make our eye
crave leave of God, to consult Him before we adventure upon
any thing, and implore his guidance and blessing upon all occa-
sions to direct our prayers to Him and look up to make our eye
wait his commanding look, ready to receive all intimations of
his will; this is an angelic life. To be as those ministers of
his that are always ready to do his pleasure to make our eye
do him homage, and express our dependence and trust to ap-
prove ourselves in every thing to Him, and act as always in his
presence, observing still how his eye observes us, and exposing
ourselves willingly to its inspection and search, contented al-
ways He should see through and through us: surely there is
much of heaven in this life: so we should endeavor to live here.
I cannot omit to give you this instruction in the words of a hea-
then, Sic certe vivendum est tanquam in conspectu vivamus, &c.
But
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
199
We ought so to live, as always within view, order our cogita-
tions as if some one might or can look into the very inwards
of our breast. For to what purpose is it, to hide any thing
from man? from God nothing can be hid; he is continually pres-
ent to our spirits, and comes amidst our inmost thoughts. &c.
Sen. Epist. 83.
This is to walk in the light, amidst a serene, placid, mild light,
that infuses no unquiet thoughts, admits no guilty fears, nothing
that can disturb or annoy us. To eye God in all our comforts,
and observe the smiling aspects of his face, when he dispenses
them to us to eye Him in all our afflictions, and consider the
paternal wisdom that instructs us in them; how would this in-
erease our mercies, and mitigate our troubles? To eye Him in
all his creatures, and observe the various prints of the Creator's
glory stamped upon them; with how lively a lustre would it
clothe the world, and make every thing look with a pleasant
face! what a heaven were it to look upon God, as filling all in
all and how sweetly would it, ere-while, raise our souls into
some such sweet seraphic strains, holy, holy,-the whole earth
is full of his glory. Isa. 6. 2. 3. To eye Him in his providen-
ces, and consider how all events are with infinite wisdom dis-
posed into an apt subserviency to his holy will and ends: what
difficulties would hence be solved! what seeming inconsisten-
cies reconciled! and how much would it contribute to the ease
and quiet of our minds? To eye Him in his Christ, the ex-
press image of his person, the brightness of his glory, and in
the Christian economy, the gospel revelation and ordinances,
through which he manifests himself: to behold Him in the pos-
ture wherein He saves souls, clad with the garments of salva-
tion, girt with power, and apparelled with love, travelling in the
greatness of his strength, mighty to save: to view Him addres-
sing Himself to allure and win to him the hearts of sinners, when he
discovers himself in Christ, upon that reconciling design, makes
grace that brings salvation appear, teaching to deny ungodliness,
&c. to behold Him entering into human flesh, pitching his taber-
nacle among men, hanging out his ensigns of peace, laying his
trains, spreading his net, the cords of a man, the bands of love:
to see Him in his Christ, ascending the cross, lifted up to draw
all men to Him; and consider that mighty love of justice and of
souls, both so eminently conspicuous in that stupendous sacrifice;
here to fix our eyes looking to Jesus, and behold in Him, him
whom we have pierced to see his power and glory, as they
were wont to be seen in his sanctuaries to observe Him in the
solemnities of his worship, and the graceful postures wherein He
holds communion with his saints, when He seats Himself amidst
them on the throne of grace, receives their addresses, dispen-
ses the tokens and pledges of his love into what transports.
might these visions put us every day.
Let us then stir up our drowsy souls, open our heavy eyes,
200
THE BLESSEDNESS
and turn them upon God, inure and habituate them to a constant
view of his (yet veiled) face, that we may not see him only by
casual glances, but as those that seek his face, and make it our
business to gain a thorough knowledge of him. But let us remem-
ber, that all our present visions of God must aim at a further con-
formity to him they must design imitation not the satisfying of
curiosity; our looking must not therefore be an inquisitive, busy
prying into the unrevealed things of God. Carefully abstain
from such over-bold presumptuous looks. But remember, we
are to eye God as our pattern. Wherein he is to be so, he hath
plainly enough revealed and proposed himself to us.
And con-
sider, this is the pattern, both to which we ought, and to which
we shall be conformed (if we make it our business ;) so will
sense of duty, and hope of success concur to fix our eye and
keep it steady. Especially, let us endeavor to manage and guide
our eye aright, in beholding him, that our sight of him may most
effectually subserve this design of being like him; and herein
nothing will be more conducible, than that our looks be qualified
with-reverence, and-love.
[1.] Let them be reverential looks. We shall never be care-
ful to imitate a despised pattern, or that we think meanly of.
When this is the intimate sense of our soul, Who is a God like
unto thee in holiness! There is none holy as the Lord: this will
set our powers on work; such sights will command and over-
awe our souls into conformity to him. Subjects have sometimes
affected to imitate the very imperfections and deformities of their
adored prince. Let us greaten our thoughts of God. Look to
him with a submissive, adoring eye. Let every look import
worship and subjection. Who can stand before apprehended
sovereign majesty with such a temper of soul as shall signify an
affront to it? This will make every thing as suitable to God yield
and render our souls susceptible of all divine and holy impres-
sions.
[2.] Let them be friendly and (as far may consist with that
reverence) amorous looks. It is natural to affect and endeavor
likeness to them we love. Let love always sit in our eye, and
inspirit it; this will represent God always amiable, will infinitely
commend us to his nature and attributes, and even ravish us into
his likeness. The loving spouse often glories, to wear her be-
loved husband's picture on her breast. The love of God will
much more make us affect to bear his image in our hearts. His
law is a true representation of him, and love in the fulfilling of
that law, an exemplification of it in ourselves. Love will never
enter a quarrel, nor admit of any disagreement with God. His
more terrible appearances will be commendable in the eye of
love. It thinks no evil. But so interprets and comments upon
his severer aspects, whether through his law or providence, as
to judge all amiable, and frame the soul to an answerable de-
portment.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
201
(2.) In this way then let us endeavor a growing conformity
unto God. It hath been much (and not unnecessarily) inculca-
ted already, that the blessedness of the righteous hereafter, doth
not consist merely in beholding an external, objective glory, but
in being also glorified. They are happy by a participated glory:
by being made like God, as well as seeing his glorious likeness;
whereby the constitution of their spirits is changed and reduced
to that excellent, harmonious, agreeeable temper, that holy com-
posure and peaceful state from which blessedness is inseparable.
As far as we are capable of blessedness in this world, it must be
so with us here. Glory without us will not make us happy in
heaven; much less will any thing without us make us happy on
earth. It is an idle dream, of sickly, crazy minds, that their
blessedness consists in some external good, that is separable
and distant from them; which therefore as they blindly guess,
they uncertainly pursue; never aiming to become good, without
which they can never know what it is to be blessed. What fe-
licity are men wont to imagine to themselves in this or that
change of their outward condition; were their state such or
such, then they were happy, and should desire no more? As the
child's fancy suggests to it, if it were on the top of such a hill,
it could touch the heavens, but when with much toil it hath got
thither, it finds itself as far off as before. We have a shorter
and more compendious way to it, would we allow ourselves to
understand it. A right temper of mind involves blessedness in
itself: it is this only change we need to endeavor. We wear
out our days in vanity and misery, while we neglect this work,
and busy ourselves to catch a fugitive shadow, that hovers about
It can never be well, till our own souls be a heaven to us,
and blessedness be a domestic, a home-dwelling inhabitant there.
Till we get a settled principle of holy quietude into our own
breasts, and become the sons of peace, with whom the peace of
God may find entrance and abode: till we have that treasure
within us, that may render us insensible of any dependance on a
foreign good, or fear of a foreign evil. Shall that be the boast
and glory of a philosopher only, "I carry all my goods with me
wherever I go?" And that a virtuous, good man is liable to no
hurt? Seneca (epis. 92.) thinks they discover a low spirit, that
say, externals can add any thing (though but a very little) to the
felicity of an honest mind; as if (saith he) men could not be
content with the light of the sun without the help of a candle or
a spark?" And speaking of the constancy of the virtuous man,
(saith he) "They do ill that say, such an evil is tolerable to
him, such a one intolerable, and that confine the greatness of his
mind within certain bounds and limits." Adversity (he tells us)
overcomes us, if it be not wholly overcome. Epicurus (saith
he) the very patron of your sloth acknowledges yet, that unhap-
py events can seldom disturb the mind of a virtuous person, (and
us.
VOL. I.
26
202
THE BLESSEDNESS
he adds,) how had he almost uttered the voice of a man! I pray,
(saith he,) speak out a little more boldly, and say he is above
them altogether."* Such apprehensions the more virtuous
heathens have had of the efficacy and defensative power of mor-
al goodness, however defective their notion might be of the thing
itself. Hence Socrates the pagan martyr is reported to have
cried out, (when those persons were persecuting him to death,)
Anytus and Meletus can kill me, but they cannot hurt me. And
Anaxarchus the philosopher, having sharply reproved Nicocreon,
and being by him ordered to be beaten to death with iron mal-
lets, bids, strike on, strike on, thou mayst (saith he) break in
pieces this vessel of Anaxarchus, but Anaxarchus himself thou
canst not touch. Diogen: Laert. Anaxarchus.
Shall christianity here confess itself outvied? shall we, to the
reproach of our religion, yield the day to pagan-morality, and
renew the occasion of ancient complaint, Non præstat fides quod
præstitit infidelitas, that the faith of christians is out-done by the
heathen infidelity? It is, I remember, the challenge of Cecilius
in Minucius. "There is Socrates (saith he) the prince of wis-
dom, whosoever of you christians is great enough to attempt it,
let him imitate him if he can." Methinks we should be ambitious
to tell the world in our lives, (for christians should live great
things, not speak them,†) that a greater than Socrates is here:
to let them see in us our represented pattern: to show forth
higher virtues than those of Socrates; even his, who hath call-
ed us out of darkness into his glorious and marvellous light.
Certain it is, that the sacred oracles of the gospel set before us
a more excellent pattern, and speak things not less magnificent,
but much more modest and perspicuous: with less pomp of words
they give us a much clearer account of a far more excellent tem-
per of mind, and prescribe the direct and certain way of attain-
ing it.
Do but view over the many passages of Scripture occa-
sionally glanced at, chap. 7. But we grope as in the dark for
blessedness; we stumble at noon-day as in the night, and wan-
der as if we had no eyes; we mistake our business, and lay the
scene of a happy state at a great distance from us, in things which
we cannot reach, and which if we could it were to little pur-
pose.
Not to speak of greater sensualists, (whom at present I have
less in my eye,) Is there not a more refined sort of persons, that
neglecting the great business of inspecting, and laboring to bet-
ter and improve their spirits, are wholly taken up about the af-
fairs of another sphere, that are more solicitous for better times,
*Max. Tyr. dissert. 2. who adds, For a good man cannot receive detri-
ment from an evil man.
† As this Author's expression is,
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
203
for a better world, than better spirits; that seem to think all the
happiness they are capable of on earth, is bound up in this or
that external state of things? Not that the care of all public
concernments should be laid aside; least of all, a just solicitude
for the church's welfare: but that should not be pretended, when
And when we are
our own interest is the one thing with us.
really solicitious about the church's interests, we should state
them aright. God designs the afflictions of his people for their
spiritual good, therefore that is a much greater good than their
exemption from suffering these evils; otherwise his means should
eat up his end; and be more expensive than that will counter-
vail; which were an imprudence no man of tolerable discretion
would be guilty of. We should desire the outward prosperity of
Sion, for it is a real good; but inasmuch as it hath in it the good-
ness, not of an end, but only (and that but sometimes neither)
of a means; not a constant but a mutual goodness; not a prin-
cipal, but a lesser subordinate goodness; we must not desire it
absolutely, nor chiefly, but with submissive limited desires. If
our hearts are grieved to hear of the sufferings of the church of
God in the world, but not of their sins; If we more sensibly re-
gret at any time, the persecutions and oppressions they undergo,
than their spiritual distempers, their earthliness, pride, cold love
to God, fervent animosities towards each other; it speaks an un-
instructed, carnal mind. We take no right measures of the in-
terests of religion, or the church's welfare, and do most proba-
bly mistake ourselves as much in our judging of our own; and
measure theirs by our mistaken model.
And this is the mischievous cheat many put upon their own
souls, and would obtrude too often upon others too; that over-
looking the great design of the gospel, to transform men's spirits
and change them into the divine likeness, they think it is reli-
gion enough to espouse a party, and adopt an opinion; and then
vogue themselves friends to religion according to the measure of
their zeal for their own party or opinion; and give a very preg-
nant proof of that zeal, by magnifying or inveighing against the
times, according as they favor or frown upon their empty, un-
spirited religion. It being indeed such (a secret consciousness
whereof they herein bewray) as hath no other life in it, than
what it owes to external favor and countenance. And therefore
all public rebukes are justly apprehended mortal to it; whereas
the substantial religion that adequately answers the design, and
is animated by the spirit of the gospel, possesses the souls of
them that own it, with a secure confidence, that it can live in
any times, and hold their souls in life also. Hence they go on
their way with a free unsolicitous cheerfulness, enjoying silently
in their own bosoms, that repose and rest which naturally results
from a sound and well-composed temper of spirit. They know
204
THE BLESSEDNESS.
!
their happiness depends upon nothing without them.* That
they hold it by a better tenure than that of the world's courtesy.
They can be quiet in the midst of storms, and abound in the
want of all things. They can in patience possess their own
souls, and in them a vital spring of true pleasure, when they are
driven out of all other possessions. They know the living sense
of these words, That the good man is satisfied from himself: that
to be spiritually-minded is life and peace: that nothing can harm
them that are followers of the good that the way to see good days,
is to keep their tongue from evil, and their lips from speaking
guile, to depart from evil and do good, to seek peace and pursue
it. They cannot live in bad times; they carry that about them
that will make the worst days good to them. Surely they can
never be happy in the best times, that cannot be so in any. Out-
ward prosperity is quite besides the purpose to a distempered
soul; when nothing else troubles, it will torment itself. Be-
sides, we cannot command at pleasure the benign aspects of the
world, the smiles of the times; we may wait a life's-time, and
still find the same adverse posture of things towards us from
without. What dotage is it to place our blessedness in some-
thing to us impossible, that lies wholly out of our power; and in
order whereto we have nothing to do, but sit down and wish ;
and either faintly hope, or ragingly despair? We cannot change
times and seasons, nor alter the course of the world, create new
heavens and new earth. Would we not think ourselves mocked,
if God should command us these things in order to our being
happy? It is not our business, these are not the affairs of our
own province (blessed be God it is not so large) further than as
our bettering ourselves may conduce thereto; and this is that
which we may do and ought: it is our proper work, in obedience
and subordination to God as his instruments, to govern and cul-
tivate our own spirits, to intend the affairs of that his kingdom
in us (where we are his authorized viceroys,) that consist in
righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. We can
be benign to ourselves, if the world be not so to us; cherish and
adorn our inward man; that though the outward man be expos-
ed daily to perish (which we cannot help, and therefore it con-
cerns us not to take thought about it,) the inward man may be
renewed day by day. We can take care that our souls may
prosper, that through our oscitant neglect they be not left to lan-
guish and pine away in their own iniquities. They may be dai-
ly fed with the heavenly hidden manna, and with the fruits of
21
>
>
>
>
,
* Ιδιωτε ςασις και χαρακτηρ, εδέποτε εξ εαυτῷ προσδοκᾷ ωφελ-
ειαν η βλάβην, αλλ' από των εξω· Φιλοσόφε ςασις και χαρακτήρ,
πάσαν ωφέλειαν και βλάβην εξ εαυτό προσδοκα. It is the condition
and character of a common man to expect happiness or injury, not from him-
self, but from things external, it is that of a philosopher to expect all happi-
ness from himself.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
205
the paradise of God; they may enjoy at home a continual feast,
and with a holy freedom luxuriate in divine pleasures, the joys
wherewith the strangers intermeddle not, if we be not unpro-
pitious and unkind to ourselves.
And would we know wherein that sound and happy complexion
of spirit lies, that hath so much of heaven in it: It is a present
gradual participation of the divine likeness. It consists in being
conformed to God; it is, as the moralists tell us, Denique ut
breviter tibi formulam scribam; talis animus sapientis viri esse
debet qualis Deum deceat. (Sen. epist.) If one would give a short
compendious model of it, such a temper of mind as becomes God;
or to give an account of it, in his own words, who prescribes it,
and who is himself the highest pattern of this blessed frame. It
is to be transformed in the renewing of our minds so as to be
able to prove what is the good, and perfect, and acceptable will
of God; (Rom. 12. 2.) that is, experimentally to find it in our-
selves, impressed and wrought into our own spirits, so as to have
the complacential relish and savour of its goodness, excellency
and pleasantness diffused through our souls. Where remember,
this was written to such as were supposed saints; whence it must
be understood, of a continued progressive transformation, a re-
newing of the inward man day by day, (as is the apostle's ex-
pression elsewere.) It is a more perfect reception of the im-
press of God, revealing himself in the gospel; the growth and
tendency of the new creature, begotten unto the eternal blessed-
ness, towards its mature and most perfect state and stature in the
fruition thereof.
And it is this I am now pressing; inasmuch as some account
hath been already given (according as we can now imperfectly
guess at it, and spell it out) what the constitution of the holy
soul is, in its glorified state, when it perfectly partakes the di-
vine likeness; that when we find in ourselves any principles,
and first elements of that blessed frame, we would endeavor
the gradual improvement thereof, and be making towards that
perfection. This therefore being our present work, let it be re-
membered wherein this participated likeness of God hath been
said to consist; and labor now the nearest approach to that pitch
and state. Your measures must be taken from what is most per-
fect, come now as near it as you can, and as that pagan's advice
is;
"If yet thou art not Socrates, however live as one that
would fain be Socrates." Epictet. Though yet thou art not
perfect, live as one that aims at it, and would be so. Only it
must be considered, that the conformity to God, of our present
state, is in extent, larger and more comprehensive than that of our
future; though it be unspeakably less perfect in degree. For
there is no moral excellency (that we have any present know-
ledge of) belonging to our glorified state, which is not in some
degree, necessarily to be found in saints on earth. But there
206
THE BLESSEDNESS
I
are some things which the exigency of our present state makes
necessary to us here, which will not be so in the state of glory;
repentance, faith, as it respects the mediator, in order to our fu-
ture happiness; patience of injuries, pity to the distressed, &c.
These things, and whatsoever else, whose objects cease, must be
understood to cease with them. In short, here is requisite all
that moral good which concerns both our end and way; there,
what concerns our end only.
Yet is the whole compass of that gracious frame of spirit, re-
quisite in this our present state, all comprehended in conformi-
ty to God.
Partly, inasmuch as some of these graces, which
will cease hereafter, in their exercise, as not having objects to
draw them forth into act, have their pattern in some communi-
cable attributes of God, which will cease also, as to their de-
nomination and exercise; their objects then ceasing too, as his
patience towards sinners, his mercy to the miserable. Partly
inasmuch as other of those graces now required in us, though
they correspond to nothing in God that is capable of the same
name, as faith in a Saviour, repentance of sin (which can have
no place in God) they yet answer to something in his nature,
that goes under other names
under other names; and is the reason whereof he re-
quires such things in us. He hath in his nature that faithful-
ness and all sufficient fulness, that challenges our faith; and that
hatred of sin, which challenges our repentance for it, having
been guilty of it. His very nature obliges him to require those
things from us, the state of our case being considered. So that
the sum even of our present duty lies in receiving this entire
impression of the divine likeness, (in some part invariably and
eternally necessary to us, in some part necessary with respect to
our present state.) And herein is our present blessedness also
involved. If therefore we have any design to better our con-
dition in point of blessedness, it must be our business to endea-
vor after a full participation of that likeness, in all the particu-
lars it comprehends. You can pitch your thoughts upon no part
of it, which hath not an evident direct tendency to the repose
and rest of your spirits. I shall commend only some few in-
stances, that you may see how little reason and inducement a
soul conformed to the holy will of God, hath to seek its comforts
and contents elsewhere. Faith corresponds to the truth of God,
as it respects divine revelations. How pleasant is it to give up
our understandings to the conduct of so safe a guide; to the
view of so admirable things as he reveals! It corresponds to
his goodness, as it respects its offers. How delectable is it to be
filling an empty soul from the divine fulness! What pleasure
attends the exercise of this faith towards the person of the Me-
ditator, viewing him in all his glorious excellencies, receiving
him in all his gracious communications by this eye and hand.
How pleasant is it to exercise it in reference to another world!
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
207
}
living by it in a daily prospect of eternity; in reference to this
world, to live without care in a cheerful dependance on him that
hath undertaken to care for us!
Repentance is that by which we become like the holy God:
to whom our sin hath made us most unlike before. How sweet
are kindly relentings, penitential tears, and the return of the
soul to its God, and to a right mind! And who can conceive
the ravishing pleasures of love to God! wherein we not only
imitate, but intimately unite with him, who is love itself. How
pleasant to let our souls dissolve here, and flow into the ocean
the element of love! Our fear corresponds to his excellent
greatness, and is not (as it is a part of the new creature in us)
a tormenting, servile passion, but a due respectfulness and ob-
servance of God; and there is no mean pleasure in that holy
awful seriousness unto which it composes and forms our spirits.
Our humility, as it respects him, answers his high excellency;
as it respects our own inferiors, his gracious condescension.
How pleasant is it to fall before him! And how connatural and
agreeable to a good spirit, to stoop low, upon any occasion to do
good! Sincerity is a most God-like excellency; an imitation
of his truth, as grounded in his all-sufficiency; which sets him
above the necessity or possibility of any advantage by collusion
or deceit and corresponds to his omnisciency and heart-search-
ing eye. It heightens a man's spirit to a holy and generous
boldness makes him apprehend it beneath him to do an unwor-
thy, dishonest action, that should need a palliation, or a conceal-
ment.* And gives him the continual pleasure of self-approba-
tion to God, whom he chiefly studies and desires to please. Pa-
tience, a prime glory of the divine majesty, continues a man's
possession of his own soul, his liberty, his dominion of himself.
He is (if he can suffer nothing) a slave to his vilest and most
sordid passions at home, his own base fear, and brutish anger,
and effeminate grief, and to any man's lusts and humors besides,
that he apprehends can do him hurt. It keeps a man's soul in
a peaceful calm, delivers him from (that most unnatural) self-
torment, defeats the impotent malice of his most implacable ene-
my, who fain would vex him, but cannot. Justice, the great
attribute of the Judge of all the earth, as such; so far as the
impression of it takes place among men, preserves the common
peace of the world, and the private peace of each man in his
own bosom, so that the former be not disturbed by doing of mu-
tual injuries, nor the latter by the conscience of having done
them. The brotherly love of fellow-christians; the impression
of that special love, which God bears to them all, admits them
*As that noble Roman whom his architect (about to build him a house)
promised to contrive it free from all his neighbors inspection; he replies,
nay, if thou have any art in thee, build my house so that all may see what
I do. Vell. Pat. p. 32.
208
THE BLESSEDNESS.
into one another's bosoms, and to all the endearments and plea-
sures of a mutual communion. Love to enemies, the express im-
age of our heavenly Father; by which we appear his children,
begotten of him; overcomes evil by goodness, blunts the double
edge of revenge; at least the sharper edge, (which is always to-
wards the author of it,) secures ourselves from wounding im-
pressions and resentment; turns keen anger into gentle pity;
and substitutes mild pleasant forgiveness, in the room of the
much uneasier thoughts and study of retaliation. Mercifulness
toward the distressed, as our Father in heaven is merciful, heaps
blessing upon our souls, and evidences our title to what we are
to live by, the divine mercy. A universal benignity and propen-
sion to do good to all; an imitation of the immense, diffusive
goodness of God, is but kindness to ourselves, rewards itself by
that greater pleasure there is in giving than in receiving; and as-
sociates us with God in the blessedness of this work, as well as
in the disposition to it; who exercises loving kindness in the
earth, because he delighteth therein.
Here are some of the phμara tñs Oεias (wns, or the things
wherein consists that our conformity to the divine nature and
will, which is proper to our present state.
And now, who can
estimate the blessedness of such a soul? Can (in a word) the
state of that soul be unhappy that is full of the Holy Ghost, full
of love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
meekness, temperance, those blessed fruits of that blessed Spi-
rit? Blessedness is connaturalized unto this soul: every thing
doth its part, and all conspire to make it happy. This soul is a
temple, an habitation of holiness. Here dwells a Deity in his
glory. It is a paradise, a garden of God. Here he walks and
converses daily, delighted with its fragrant fruitfulness. He that
hath those things and aboundeth, is not barren or unfruitful in
the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus: He is the sun,
and the knowledge of him, the quickening beams that cherish
and ripen these fruits. But the soul that lacketh these things is
a desert, a habitation of devils. Here is stupid, disconsolate in-
fidelity, inflexible obstinacy and resolvedness for hell, hatred and
contempt of the sovereign majesty; whom yet, its secret mis-
giving thoughts tell it, will be too hard for it at last. Here is
swollen pride and giddy vain-glory, disguised hypocrisy and
pining envy, raging wrath and ravenous avarice, with what you
can imagine besides, leading to misery and desolation.
You have then some prospect of a happy temper of spirit. It
can now be no difficulty to you, to frame an idea of it in your
thoughts, to get a notional image (or this likeness in the notion
of it) into your minds; but that will avail you little, if you have
not the real image also; that is, your spirits really fashioned and
formed according thereto : if having the knowledge of these things,
(as the pagan moralist's expression, before mentioned, is of virtu-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
209
ous rules and precepts, Philosophia hæc dividitur in scientiam et
habitum animi, unam illam qui didicit et facienda ac vitanda
et præcepit nondum sapiens est nisi in ea quæ didicit animus ejus
transfiguratus est.* Senex Agrippa epist. 94.) they become not.
habitual to you, and your spirits be not transfigured in them.
But now, I treat with such as are supposed to have some such
real impressions, that they may be stirred up to endeavor a fur-
ther perfecting of them. In order whereto, I shall add but this
two-fold advice:
[1.] Be very careful that this living image (such you have
been formerly told it is) may grow equally in every part. See
that the impression of this likeness be entire, that it be not a
maimed thing; if it be, God will never own it as his production.
Integrity is the glory of a christian; to be entire, lacking no-
thing. This is the soundness of heart that excludes a blushing
consciousness and misgiving; exempts it from the fear of a
shameful discovery. Let my heart be sound in thy statutes; is
paraphrased, by having respect to all God's commandments;
(Psal. 119. 6. 80.) to which is opposite, that being partial in the
law, spoken of by the prophet (Mal. 2. 9.) by way of complaint
concerning the priests of that time. A thing hateful in the eye
of God, and as uncomfortable to ourselves, as to be without a
leg or an arm. And see that it be preserved entire by a propor-
tional and uniform growth, that fresh life and motion may daily
appear in every limb of this heavenly new creature. How odi-
ous a deformity is it, when a shew of moral virtues excludes
godliness? And how much more odious (inasmuch as there is
more impudent falsehood in it, and more dishonorable reflection
upon God) when under a high pretence of godliness, any shall
allow themselves in visible immorality? What to be oppressive,
envious, contentious, deceitful, proud, turbulent, wrathful, morose,
malicious, fretful, and peevish, and yet a christian? What se-
rious person, that shall have no fairer representation of Chris-
tianity than such do give, would not be ready to say rather, Sit
anima mea cum Philosophis, If this be Christian religion, give
me honest paganism? A christian that hath received the pro-
per, uniform, entire impress of the gospel of Christ, is the most
meek, mild, calm, harmless thing in the world. Never mention
so venerable a name, if you will not be jealous of the honor of
it. Will you give God occasion to charge you, Wretch, I never
had had this dishonor, if thou hadst never been called a chris-
tian; thou art a christian to no purpose, or to very bad; it does
thee no good, and it injures me? But (which is more directly
considerable as to our present purpose) the neglect and conse-
quent decay of any gracious principle, infers a languor, a consump-
*This kind of philosophy is divided into the science and the habit of the
mind, &c. Vide page 132.
27
VOL. I.
1
210
THE BLESSEDNESS
tion and enfeeblement of all. Any such perverse disposition
doth not affect that part only, is not only an impairment to the
contrary gracious principle, but (as a cancer in some exterior
part of the body) it gradually creeps up till it invade the
vitals. Can the love of God live and grow in an unquiet, an-
gry, uncharitable breast? Consider, Jam. 1. 26. 1 John 3. 17.
[2.] Be constantly intent upon this business of spiritual
growth. Mind it as a design, make a solemn purposed business
of it, your great daily business. You do not till your ground by
chance, as a casual thing; but you do it industriously, and of
set purpose. The apostle speaking of his own method of pur-
suing conformity to Christ, (Phil. 3. 8.) tells us, he did in com-
parison, count all things else loss and dog's meat; he threw
every thing else aside. Then next he recounts with himself,
how far short he was; Not as if I had already attained, &c. (ver.
12.) (where by the way he intimates, that to stand still, and give
over further endeavors, implies that gross absurdity, as if we
thought ourselves to have attained already, to be already per-
fect; are we not ashamed to seem so conceited of ourselves?
and then still as he did attain in his pursuit he forgot what was
behind; (ver. 12. 13.) and held on his course with fresh and
constant vigor, still reaching forth and pressing onward towards
his designed mark.
In this great business we alas! seem to dream. He that hath
been observed ten or twenty years ago to be proud, and covetous,
or passionate, still remains so, and we apprehend not the incon-
gruity of it. What, always learning, and yet never come to the
knowledge of the truth, as it is in Jesus, to the putting off the old
man, and putting on the new? Who would meddle with any profes-
sion upon such terms, to be always doing and yet to do nothing?
Surely it must be imputed to this, we design not, we do not seri-
ously intend the perfecting of holiness, to make a real progress in
our way and work, and to get still nearer heaven, as we draw
nearer to the end of our days on earth. We too contentedly
confine ourselves within certain limits and aim not, as we should
at a spiritual excellency. This is the temper of many that have.
long trodden the path of (at least an external) religion; they
will go but their own pace, and that within a self-prescibed
round or circle. They perform their stated task of religious
exercises, and shun the grosser vices of the time; and resolve
never to go higher much like the character that was once
given of a great man, (Tiberius,) Neque enim eminentes virtutes
sectabatur, et rursum vitia oderat: that he followed not the more
eminent virtues, and yet that he hated vice. Tacit. Annal. And
it is a true censure that a barbarian, (Thespesion, Philostro. in
vit. Apollon. Tyan.) is said to have given of that middle tem-
per, that dull indifferency: Πᾶν γὰρ ὅ τιμῆς τε, καὶ τιμωρίας ἴσον ἀφέση-
xev, ¿πw ȧgérn: what is equally distant from being the matter
"
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
211
either of praise or punishment, is upon no terms to be accoun-
ted a virtue. At least, we drive not on a design of growth and
self-improvement in our spiritual states with that constancy we
ought; we are off and on; our spirits are not steadily intent;
we are unstable as water, how can we excel? (Gen. 49. 4.)
God hath not put us, sure, upon so fruitless a task, wherein
our utmost labor and diligence shall profit nothing. Therefore
strive more vigorously, and pray with more earnest importunity.
Consider and plead it with God, that he hath set before thee the
hope of such a state, wherein thou art to be perfectly like him ;
and shalt thou (that must hereafter be like God) be now like a
clod of earth? Thou art now a child begotten of him; and
though thou art yet in the minority, yet may not somewhat be
spared out of so fair an estate, hereafter designed for thee, as
that thou mayst now live worthy of such a Father, and suitable
to thy expected inheritance.
(3.) And now, a contented, satisfied temper of spirit, as I have
told you, results from the other two; and will therefore follow
of course upon growing knowledge of God, and conformity to
him, as the latter of these also doth upon the former. Yea, it
is a part of our conformity to God; but a part consequent to
the impression of the things mentioned under the former head,
as knowledge also is a part previous and antecedent thereto.
It is in a state of glory, we see, something superadded. The
likeness impressed is pre-supposed; satisfaction follows there-
upon. The case is so too in our present state; contentment is
spoken of as a thing consequent and superadded; Godliness
with contentment. A satisfied contented spirit, when it is the
result of Godliness, (of the divine image impressed,) is indeed
great gain. Yet as to this I shall only say these two things.
[1.] Be distinct and explicit in the proposal of it as an end.
Religion doth not brutify men, but make them more rational.
Its business is to guide them to blessedness. It must therefore
pitch their eyes upon it, as the mark and end they are to aim
at, and hold them intent there. It is ingenious, and honorable
to God, that we should expressly avow it. We come to him for
satisfaction to our spirits, not knowing whither else to apply
ourselves. We turn our eyes upon him, we lay open our souls
to receive impressions from him, for this very end. This is an
explicit acknowledgment of him as God, our highest sovereign
good.
[2.] Actually apply and accommodate divine visions and
communications to this purpose. Say, "O my soul, now come
solace thyself in this appearance of God; come, take thy allow-
ed pleasure in such exertions of God, as thou dost now expe-
rience in thyself." Recount thy happiness; think how great it
is, how rich thou art; on purpose that thy spirit may grow more
daily into a satisfied, contented frame. Often bethink thyself,
212
THE BLESSEDNESS
盛
​What is the great God doing for me, that he thus reveals and im-
parts himself to my soul! O how great things do those present
pledges pre-signify to me! that thou mayst still more and more
like thy portion, and account it fallen in pleasant places, so as
never to seek satisfaction in things of another kind; though
thou must still continue expecting and desiring more of the same
kind. And remember to this purpose, there cannot be a greater
participation of the misery of hell before-hand, than a discontent-
ed spirit perpetually restless and weary of itself; nor of the
blessedness of heaven, than in a well-pleased, satisfied, contented
frame of spirit.
CHAPTER XIX.
Rule 5. Direeting to raise our desires above the actual or possible attain-
ments of this our present, and terminate them upon the future consum-
mate state of blessedness. The rule explained and expressed by sundry
considerations. Rule 6. That we add to a desirous pursuit, a joyful ex-
pectation of this blessedness: which is pursued by certain subordinate di-
rections.
5. That notwithstanding all our present or possible attain-
ments in this imperfect state on earth, we direct fervent vigor-
ous desires towards the perfect and consummate state of glory
itself; not designing to ourselves a plenary satisfaction and rest
in any thing on this side of it. That is, that forgetting what is
behind, we reach forth not only to what is immediately before
us, the next step to be taken; but that our eye and desire aim
forward at the ultimate period of our race, terminate upon the
eternal glory itself; and that not only as a measure, according
to which we would some way proportion our present attain-
ments, but as the very mark, which (itself) we would fain hit
and reach home to. And that this be not only the habitual bent
and tendency of our spirits; but that we keep up such desires,
in frequent (and as much as is possible) continual exercise.
Yea, and that such actual desires be not only faint and sluggish
wishes, but full of lively efficacy and vigor; in some measure
proportionable to our last end and highest good; beyond and
above which we neither esteem nor expect any other enjoy-
ment. Whatsoever we may possibly attain to here, we should
still be far from projecting to ourselves a state of rest on this
side consummate glory, but still urge ourselves to a continual as-
cent; so as to mount above, not only all enjoyment of any other
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
213
kind, but all degrees of enjoyment in this kind, that are beneath
perfection.
Still it must be remembered, this is not the state of our final
rest. The mass of glory is yet in reserve, we are not yet so
high as the highest heavens. If we gain but the top of mount
Tabor, we are apt to say, It is good to be here, and forget the
longer journey yet before us, loth to think of a further advance;
when, were our spirits right, how far soever we may suppose
ourselves to have attained, it would be matter of continual joy
to us to think, high perfections are still attainable; that we are
yet capable of greater things, than what we have hitherto com-
passed; our souls can yet comprehend more. Nature intends
what is most perfect in every creature; methinks the divine na-
ture in the new creature, should not design lower, or cease as-
piring, till it have attained its ultimate perfection, its culminat-
ing point; till grace turn into glory. Let us therefore, chris-
tians, bestir ourselves, let us open and turn our eyes upon the
eternal glory. Let us view it well, and then demand of our own
souls, why are our desires so faint and slothful? why do they so
seldom pierce through the intervening distance, and reach home
to what they professedly level at; so rarely touch this blessed
mark? How can we forbear to be angry with ourselves, that so
glorious an end should not more powerfully attract; that our
hearts should not more sensibly find themselves drawn; and all
the powers of the soul be set on work by the attractive power of
that glory? It certainly concerns us, not to sit still under so
manifest a distemper. But if the proposal of the object, the
discourse (all this while) of this blessed state, do not move us
to make some further trials with ourselves, see what urging and
reasoning with our souls, what rubbing and chafing our hearts
will do. And there is a two-fold trial we may in this kind make
upon our spirits-what the sense of shame will work with us;
whether our hearts cannot be made sensible to suppose how vile
and wretched a temper it is to be undesirous of glory. And
then what sense of praise can effect; or what impression it may
make upon us to consider the excellency and worth, the high
reasonableness of that temper and posture of soul which I am
now persuading to, a continual desirousness of that blessed, glo-
rious state.
(1.) As to the former. Let us bethink ourselves, Can we an-
swer it to God or to our own souls, that we should indulge our-
selves in a continual negligence of our eternal blessedness? a
blessedness consisting in the vision and participation of the di-
vine glory? Have we been dreaming all this while, that God,
hath been revealing to us this glorious state, and setting this
lovely prospect before our eyes? Did it become us, not to open
our eyes while he was opening heaven to us, and representing
the state which he designed to bring us to? or will we say, We
214
THE BLESSEDNESS
have seen it and yet desire it not? Have we been deaf and dead
while he hath been calling us into eternal glory; have all our
senses been bound up all this while? Hath he been speaking all
along to senseless statues, to stocks and stones, while he expect-
ed reasonable, living souls should have received the voice, and
have returned an obedient, complying answer? And what an-
swer could be expected to such a call (a call to his glory) below
this, We desire it Lord, we could fain be there. And if we say
we have not been all this while asleep, we saw the light that
shone upon us, we heard the voice that called to us; wherewith
shall we then excuse ourselves, that our desires were not moved,
that our souls were not presently in a flame? Was it then, that
we thought all a mere fiction; that we durst not give credit to
his word, when it brought us the report of the everlasting glo-
ry ? Will we avow this? Is this, that we will stand by? Or what
else have we left to say? Have we a more plausible reason to
allege, that the discovery of such a glory moved us not to desire
it, than that we believed it not? Sure this is the truth of our
case. We should feel this heavenly fire always burning in our
breasts, if our infidelity did not quench the coal. If we did be-
lieve, we could not but desire. But do not the thoughts of this
shake our very souls, and fill us with horror and trembling? We
that should be turned into indignation, and ready to burn our-
selves with our own flame, and all about us, if one should give us
the lie; that we should dare to put the lie upon the eternal truth:
upon him whose word gave stability and being to the world, who
made and sustains all things by it! That awful word! That word
that shivers rocks, and melts down mountains, that makes the
animate creation tremble, that can in a moment blast all things,
and dissolve the frame of heaven and earth, (which in the mean
time it upholds :) is that become with us fabulous, lying breath!
Those God-breathed oracles, those heavenly records, which dis-
cover and describe this blessed state, are they false and foolish
legends? Must that be pretended at last (if men durst) that is
so totally void of all pretences? What should be the gain or ad-
vantage accruing to that eternal, all-sufficient Being? What ac-
cession should be made to that infinite self-fulness by deluding a
worm? Were it consistent with his nature; what could be his
design to put a cheat upon poor mortal dust? If thou dare not im-
pute it to him; such a deception had a beginning, but what au-
thor canst thou imagine of it, or what end? Did it proceed from
a good man or bad? Could a good and honest man form so hor-
ribly wicked a design, to impose a universal delusion, and lie
upon a world, in the name of the true and holy God? Or could
a wicked mind frame a design so directly levelled against wick-
edness! Or is there any thing so aptly and naturally tending to
form the world to sobriety, holiness, purity of conversation, as
the discovery of this future state of glory? And since the belief
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
215
of future felicity is known to obtain universally among men, who
could be the author of so common a deception? If thou hadst
the mind to impose a lie upon all the world, what course wouldst
thou take? How wouldst thou lay the design? Or why dost thou
in this case imagine what thou knowest not how to imagine?
And dost thou not without scruple believe many things of which
thou never hadst so unquestionable evidence? Or must that
faith, which is the foundation of thy religion and eternal hopes,
be the most suspected, shaking thing with thee; and have, of
all other, the least stability and rootedness in thy soul? If thou
canst not excuse thy infidelity, be ashamed of thy so cold and
sluggish desires of this glorious state.
And doth it not argue a low, sordid spirit, not to desire and
aim at the perfection thou art capable of; not to desire that bles-
sedness which alone is suitable and satisfying to a reasonable and
spiritual being? Bethink thyself a little; How low art thou
sunk into the dirt of the earth? how art thou plunged into the
miry ditch, that even thine own clothes might abhor thee? Is
the Father of spirits thy father? is the world of spirits thy coun-
try? hast thou any relation to that heavenly progeny? art thou
allied to that blessed family; and yet undesirious of the same
blessedness? Canst thou savour nothing but what smells of the
earth? Is nothing grateful to thy soul, but what is corrupted by
so vicious and impure a tincture? Are all thy delights centred in
a dunghill; and the polluted pleasures of a filthy world better to
thee than the eternal visions and enjoyments of heaven? What
art thou all made of earth? Is thy soul stupified into a clod?
Hast thou no sense with thee of any thing better and more ex-
cellent? Canst thou look upon no glorious thing with a pleased
eye? Are things only desirable and lovely to thee, as they are
deformed? O consider the corrupted, distempered state of thy
spirit, and how vile a disposition it hath contracted to itself!
Thine, looks too like the mundane spirit; the spirit of the world.
The apostle speaks of it διακριτικώς, by way of distinction ; εἴδωμεν.
1 Cor. 2 12. We have not received the spirit of the world, but
the spirit that is from God, that we might know, or see (and no
doubt it is desire that animates that eye; it is not bare specula-
tive intuition and no more) the things freely given us of God.
Surely he whose desire doth not guide his eye to the beholding
of those things, hath received the spirit of the world only. A
spirit that conforms him to this world, makes him think only
thoughts of this world, and drive the designs of this world, and
speak the language of this world. A spirit that connaturalizes
him to the world, makes him of a temper suitable to it: he
breathes only worldly breath, carries a wordly aspect, is of a
worldly conversation. O poor low spirit, that such a world
should withhold thee from the desire and pursuit of such glory!
Art thou not ashamed to think what thy desires are wont to pitch
216
THE BLESSEDNESS
upon, while they decline and waive this blessedness? Methinks
thy very shame should compel thee to quit the name of a saint
or a man: to forbear numbering thyself with any that pretend
to immortality, and go seek pasture among the beasts of the
field, with them that live that low, animal life that thou dost,
and expect no other.
And when thou so fallest in with the world, how highly dost
thou gratify the pretending and usurping god of it? The great
fomenter of the sensual, worldly genius: the spirit itself that
works in the children of disobedience, (Eph. 2. 2. 3.) and makes
them follow the course of the world, holds them fast bound in
worldly lusts, and leads them captive at his will; causes them
(after his own serpentine manner) to creep and crawl in the
dust of the earth. He is most intimate to this apostate world;
informs it (as it were) and actuates it in every part; is even
one great soul to it. The whole world lies in that wicked one,
(1 John. 5. 19.) as the body, by the best philosophers, is said
to be in the soul. The world is said to be convicted when he
is judged. John 16. 8-12. He having fallen from a state of
blessedness in God, hath involved the world with himself in the
same apostacy and condemnation; and labors to keep them fast
in the bands of death. The great Redeemer of souls makes
this his business, to loose and dissolve the work of the devil. 1
John 3. 8. With that wicked one thou compliest against thy own
soul and the Redeemer of it, while thou neglectest to desire and
pursue this blessedness. This is thy debasement, and his tri-
umph; thy vile succumbency gives him the day and his will
upon thee. He desires no more than that he may suppress in
thee all heavenly desires, and keep thee thus a slave and a
prisoner (confined in thy spirit to this low, dark dungeon) by
thy own consent. While thou remainest without desire after
heaven, he is secure of thee, as knowing then thou wilt take no
other way, but what will bring thee unto the same eternal state
with himself in the end. He is jealous over thee, that thou di-
rect not a desire, nor glance an eye heaven-ward. While thou
dost not so, thou art entirely subject, and givest as full obedi-
ence to him, as thy God requires to himself in order to thy
blessedness. But is it a thing tolerable to thy thoughts, that
thou shouldst yield that heart-obedience to the devil against
God? And this being the state of thy case, what more signifi-
cant expression canst thou make of the contempt of divine good-
ness? O the love that thou neglectest, while the most glorious
issue and product of it is with thee an undesired thing! Yea,
this the thing itself speaks, were there no such competition.
What, that when eternal love hath conceived, and is travailing
to bring forth such a birth; that when it invites thee to an ex-
pectation of such glory shortly to be revealed, the result of so
deep counsels and wonderful works, this should be the return
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
217
from thee, I desire it not! Is this thy gratitude to the Father
of glory, the requital of the kindness, yea, and of the blood of
thy Redeemer? If this blessedness were not desirable for itself,
methinks the offerer's hand should be a sufficient endearment.
But thou canst not so divide or abstract, it consists in beholding
and bearing his glorious likeness who invites thee to it; and
therefore in the neglect of it thou most highly affrontest him.
Yea further, is it not a monstrous unnaturalness towards thy-
self, as well as impiety towards God, not to desire that perfect,
final blessedness? Doth not every thing naturally tend to its
ultimate perfection and proper end?
What creature would not
witness against thee, if thou neglect, in thine own capacity and
kind, to aim at thine? Surely thou canst not allow thyself to
think any thing beneath this, worthy to be owned by thee, un-
der that notion, of thy highest good and thy last end. But that
thy spirit should labor under an aversion towards thy highest
good, towards thy blessedness itself, is not that a dismal token
upon thee? If thou didst disaffect and nauseate the things in
which thy present life is bound up, and without which thou
canst not live, wouldst thou not think thy case deplorable?
What dost thou think will become of thy soul, whose everlast-
ing life is bound up in that very good which thou desirest not;
which cannot live that life without that good, nor with it, if
thou hast no desire to it? O the eternal resentments thy soul
will have of this cruelty to be withheld from that wherein its
life lies! Wouldst thou not judge him unnatural that should
kill his brother, assassinate his father, starve his child? What
shall be said of him that destroys himself? How may that soul
lament that ever it was thine; and say, O that I had rather
been of any such lower kind, to have animated a fly, to have
inspirited a vile worm, rather than to have served a reasonable
beast, that by me knew the good it would never follow, and did
not desire! But if thou hast any such desires, in a low degree,
after this blessedness, as thou thinkest may entitle thee to the
name thou bearest, of a saint, a christian; is it not still very un-
natural to pursue a good, approved by thy stated judgment as
best in itself, and for thee, with so unproportionable, so slothful
desires? For the same reason thou dost desire it at all, thou
shouldst desire it much; yea, and still more and more, till thou
attain it, and be swallowed up into it. Thy best and last good
thou canst never desire too much. And let it be considered by
thee, that the temper thou thinkest thyself innocent of, an ha-
bitual prevalent disaffection to the true blessedness of saints,
may for ought thou knowest be upon thee; while it appears
thou art so very near the borders of it; and it appears not with
such certainty that thou partakest not in it.
It is not so easy a
matter, critically to distinguish and conclude of the lowest degree
(in hypothesi, or with application to thy own case) of that de-
VOL. I.
28
218
THE BLESSEDNESS
sire which is necessary to qualify thee for the enjoyment of this
blessedness. And is it not a matter both of shame and terror,
that thou shouldst desire thy blessedness so faintly, as not to know
whether thou truly desire it at all? It is true, that a certainty,
amongst such as may be sincere, is very little common; but
whenee proceeds it, but from their too common, indulged sloth;
out of which all this is designed to awaken thee. And the com-
monness whereof doth as little detract from the reproach and
sinfulness, as from the danger of it. It is but
It is but a poor defence,
for what is intrinsically evil in itself, that it is common.
But further, as the case is, this is so reproachful a thing, even
in common estimate,-not to desire heaven and eternal glory,
or to desire it with very cold and careless desires-that there
are few will profess it, or own it to be their temper; much few-
er that will undertake to excuse or justify it. It is so evilly
thought of, that among merely sober and rational men, it can
never find an advocate, or any that will afford it patronage.
The generality pretend a desire of going to heaven and being
with God. If any be so observant of themselves as to know,
and so ingenuous as to confess it otherwise with them, they
complain of it as their fault, and say, they would fain have it re-
dressed but are far from assuming that confidence, to defend or
plead for it. Consider then, wilt thou persist in such a temper
and disposition of mind as all men condemn; and be guilty of so
odious a thing, as shall be censured and blamed by the common
concurrent vote and judgment of mankind; Thou wouldst be
ashamed to stand forth and profess openly to men, that thou de-
sirest an earthly felicity more than a blessedness in heaven; or
at least, that thou art so indifferent, and the scales hang so even
with thee, that thou canst hardly tell which way they incline
most. And art thou not ashamed that this should be thy usual
temper; how much soever thou conceal it from the notice and
observation of the world? Moreover, how can it escape thy
serious reflection, that if thou pretend it otherwise with thee, it
is but to add one sin to another, and cover thy carnality with
hypocrisy and dissimulation? Yea, while thou continuest in
that temper of spirit, not to desire this blessedness as thy su-
preme end, the whole of thy religion is but an empty shew, an
artificial disguise it carries an appearance and pretence, as if
thou wast aiming at God and glory, while thy heart is set ano-
ther way, and the bent of thy soul secretly carries thee a coun-
ter-course. Hath not religion an aspect towards blessedness?
What mean thy praying, thy hearing, thy sacramental commu-
nion, if thou have not a design for eternal glory? What mak-
est thou in this way, if thou have not thy heart set towards this
end?
Nor is it more dishonest and unjust, than it is foolish and ab-
surd, that the disposition and tendency of thy soul should be di-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
219
rectly contrary to the only design of the religion thou professest
and dost externally practice. Thy profession and desires are
nothing but self-contradiction. Thou art continually running
counter to thyself; outwardly pursuing what thou inwardly de-
clinest. Thy real end (which can be no other than what thou
really desirest and settest thy heart upon) and thy visible way
are quite contrary: so that while thou continuest the course of
religion, in which thou art engaged, having taken down from
before thine eyes the end which thou shouldst be aiming at, and
which alone religion can aptly subserve, thy religion hath no
design or end at all, none at least which thou wouldst not be
ashamed to profess and own. Indeed this temper of heart I am
now pleading against, an undesirousness or indifferency of spirit
towards the eternal glory, renders religion the vainest thing in
the world. For whereas all the other actions of our lives have
their stated, proper ends, religion hath in this case none at all;
none to which it hath any designation in this nature, or any apt-
ness to subserve. This monstrous absurdity it infers, and how
strange it is, that it should not be reflected on? That whereas
if you ask any man of common understanding, what he doth this
or that action for, especially if they be stated actions, done by
him in an ordinary course, he can readily tell you, for such and
such an end: but ask him why he continues any practice of re-
ligion, he cannot say (in this case) for what. For can any man
imagine what other end religion naturally serves for, but to bring
men to blessedness? Which being no other thing than what
hath been here described; such as are found not to desire it
really and supremely, as their end, can have no real attainable
end of their being religious at all. To drive on a continued
course and series of actions in a visible pursuit of that which
they desire not, and have no mind to, is such a piece of folly, so
fond and vain a trifling, that as I remember, Cicero reports Cato
to have said concerning the sooth-sayers of his time, he did won-
der they could look in one another's faces and not laugh, (being
conscious to each other's impostures, and the vanity of their
profession;) so one would as justly wonder, that the generality
of carnal men, (who may shrewdly guess at the temper of one
another's minds) do not laugh at each other, that they are joint-
ly engaged in such exercise of religion, to the design whereof
the common and agreed temper of their spirits do so little cor-
respond. As if all were in very good earnest for heaven, when
each one knows for himself, and may (possibly with more truth
than charity) suppose of the rest, that if they might always con-
tinue in their earthly station, they had rather never come there;
and therefore that they desire it not supremely, and so not as
their end at all. Consider it then, that thy no-desire of this
blessed state quite dispirits thy religion, utterly ravishes away
its soul, leaves it a dead, foolish, vain thing, renders it an idle
220
THE BLESSEDNESS
impertinency, not a mean to a valuable end. This desire is the
life of religion; all duties and exercises of piety are without it,
but empty formalities, solemn pieces of pageantry; every ser-
vice done to God, but the sacrifice of a fool, if not animated by
the desire of final blessedness in him, and be not part of our way
thither, a means designed to the attainment of it; which nothing
can be, that we are not put upon by the virtue of the desired
end. Without this, religion is not itself. A continuance in well-
doing, is as it were the body of it; and therein a seeking honor,
glory, and immortality, the soul and spirit. The desire of a
heavenly country must run the whole course of our earthly pil-
grimage it were otherwise a continued error, an uncertain
wandering, no steady tending towards our end: so that thou art
a mere vagrant, if this desire do not direct thy course towards
thy Father's house. And methinks all this should make thee
even ashamed of thyself, if thou canst not find this desire to have
a settled residence, and a ruling power in thy soul. Then,
:
(2.) Sense of praise should signify something too, as the
apostle, whatsoever things are-pure, lovely, &c. If there be
any virtue, any praise, think of these things. And hath not
the eternal glory those characters upon it of purity and loveli-
ness beyond all things? Is it not a laudable and praise-worthy
thing, to have a mind and heart set upon that? The blessed God
puts a note of excellency upon this temper of spirit but they
desire a better country, that is, a heavenly; wherefore God is
not ashamed to be called their God, &c. Heb. 11. 16. This
renders them a people worthy of him who hath called them to
his kingdom and glory; fit for him to own a relation to. 1 Thes.
2. 12. Had they been of low, terrene spirits, he would have
accounted it a shame to him, to have gone under the name and
cognizance of their God. But inasmuch as they desire the hea-
venly country, have learned to trample this terrestrial world,
cannot be contained within this lower sphere, not satisfy them-
selves in earthly things; they now discover a certain excellency
of spirit, in respect whereof, God is not ashamed to own a rela-
tion to them, before all the world to be called their God; to let
men see what account he makes of such a spirit. Yea, this is
the proper, genuine spirit and temper of a saint, which agrees
to him as he is such. He is begotten to the eternal inheritance.
A disposition (and therein a desire) to it is in his very nature,
(the new nature he hath received,) implanted there from his
original. He is born spirit of Spirit, and by that birth is not en-
titled only, but adapted and suited also to that pure and spiritu-
al state of blessedness. That grace, by the appearance where-
of men are made christians, teachers also, instructs to this very
thing, to look for this blessed hope, the glorious appearing of the
great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ: that which you know
consummates that blessedness. For when Christ, who is their
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
€21
life, shall appear, then shall they also appear with him in glory;
by the participation of the divine nature, their spirits escape
and get up above this corrupt, impure world. That new na-
ture is a holy flame that carries their hearts upwards towards
heaven.
Further, such desires appear hence to be of divine original, an
infusion from the blessed God himself. That nature is from him
immediately in which they are implanted. The apostle speaking
of his earnest, panting desire, to have mortality swallowed up of
life, presently adds, he that wrought us to the self-same thing is
God. 2 Cor. 5. 4. They are obedient desires; the soul's present
answer to the heavenly call, (Heb. 3. 1.) by which God calls it
to his kingdom and glory. This glory is (as hath been formerly
noted) the very term of that calling. 1 Thes. 2. 12. The God
of all grace hath called us unto his eternal glory, by Christ
Jesus. I Pet. 5. 10. The glorified state is the mark, the prize of
the high calling of God in Christ. Phil. 3. 14. It is the matter of the
apostle's thanksgiving unto God, on the behalf of the Thessalo-
nians, that they were called by his gospel, to the obtaining of the
glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. 2 Thes. 2. 14. When the soul
desires this glory, it obediently answers this call. This is a com-
pliance and subjection of heart to it. How lovely and becoming
a thing is this, when God touches the heart with a stamp and
impress of glory, and it forthwith turns itself to that very point,
and stands directly bent towards the state of glory; is not way-
ward or perverse, but herein yields itself to God, and complies
with the divine pleasure. Such desires have much in them of a
child-like ingenuity; to desire the sight of a father's face; when
this is the intimate sense of the soul, Shew me the Father and
it suffices. To desire the fullest conformity to his nature and
will, to be perfect as that heavenly Father is perfect, what doth
better become a child? They are generous desires; they aim at
perfection, the highest that created nature is capable of; not
contented to have had some glances of divine glory, some strokes
and lines of his image, but aspiring to full-eyed visions, a per-
fect likeness. They are victorious desires; they (as it were)
ride in triumph over the world and every sublunary thing; they
must be supposed to have conquered sensual inclinations, to have
got the mastery over terrene dispositions and affections. With
what holy contempt and scorn of every earthly thing doth that
lofty soul quit this dirty world and ascend, that is powerfully
carried by its own desire towards that blessed state? The desire
of such a knowledge of Christ, as might transform into his like-
ness, and pass the soul through all degrees of conformity to him,
till it attain the resurrection of the dead, and become like a ris-
en, glorified Jesus; such a desire I say, if it make all things
seem as loss and dung in comparison, (even a formal, spiritless
religion itself,) will it not render this world the most despicable
222
THE BLESSEDNESS
dunghill of all the rest? Try such a soul if you can, tempt it
down to enjoy a flattering, kind world, or to please it when an-
gry and unkind. When desires after this glory are once awak-
ened into an active, lively vigor, when the fire is kindled, and
the flame ascends, and this refined spirit is joyfully ascending
therein, see if you can draw it back, and make it believe this
world a more regardable thing. Why should not all those con-
siderations make thee in love with this blessed frame of spirit,
and restless till thou find thyself uncapable of being satisfied
with any thing but divine likenes?
6. That while we cannot as yet attain the mark and end of
our desires, we yield not to a comfortless despondency in the
way, but maintain in our hearts a lively joy, in the hope that
hereafter we shall attain it. We are not all this while persuad-
ing to the desire and pursuit of an unattainable good. Spiritual
desires are also rational, and do therefore involve hope with
them; and that hope ought to infer and cherish joy. Hopeless
desire is full of torment, and must needs banish joy from that
breast which it hath got the possession of. It is a disconsolate
thing, to desire what we must never expect to enjoy, and are
utterly unlikely ever to compass. But these desires are part of
the new creature, which is not of such a composition, as to have
a principle of endless trouble and disquiet in itself. The Father
of mercies is not so little merciful to his own child, to lay it un-
der a necessity, from its very natural constitution, of being for
ever miserable by the desire of that which it can never have. It
had been very unlike the workmanship of God, to make a crea-
ture to which it should be necessary to desire, and impossible to
enjoy the same thing. No: but as he hath given holy souls,
(as to the present case,) great incentives of desire, so doth he
afford them proportionable encouragement of hope also; and that
hope intervening, can very well reconcile desire and joy, and lodge
them together in the same bosom. So that as it is a thing capa-
ble of no excuse, to hear of this blessedness and not desire it;
so it would be, to desire and not expect it, to expect it, and not
rejoice in it, even while we are under that expectation. And it
must be a very raised joy that shall answer to the expectation of
so great things. If one should give a stranger to Christianity an
account of the christian hopes, and tell him what they expect to
be and enjoy, before long; he would sure promise himself, to
find so many angels dwelling in human flesh, and reckon, when
he came among them he should be as amidst the heavenly quire;
every one full of joy and praise. He would expect to find us liv-
ing on earth, as the inhabitants of heaven, as so many pieces of
immortal glory lately dropped down from above, and shortly again
returning thither. He would look to find, every-where in the
Christian world, incarnate glory sparkling through the over-
shadowing vail; and wonder how this earthly sphere should be
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
223
able to contain so many great souls. But when he draws nearer
to us, and observes the course and carriage of our lives, when
he sees us walk as other men, and considers the strange disa-
greement of our daily conversation to our so great, avowed
hopes, and how little sense of joy and pleasure we discover our-
selves to conceive in them; would he not be ready to say, "Sure
some or other (willing only to amuse the world with the noise
of strange things) have composed a religion for these men,
which they themselves understand nothing of. If they do adopt
and own it for theirs, they understand not their own pretences;
they are taught to speak some big words, or to give a faint or
seeming assent to such as speak them in their names, but it
is impossible they should be in good earnest, or believe them-
selves in what they say and profess." And what reply then
should we be able to make? For who can think that any who
acknowledge a God, and understand at all what that name im-
ports, should value at so low a rate, as we visibly do, the eter-
nal fruition of his glory, and a present sonship to him, the pledge
of so great a hope. He that is born heir to great honors and
possessions, though he be upon great uncertainties as to the en-
joyment of them, (for how many interveniences may prevent
him?) yet when he comes to understand his possibilites and ex-
pectancies, how big doth he look and speak? what grandeur
doth he put on? His hopes form his spirit and deportment. But
is it proportionably so with us? Do our hopes fill our hearts with
joy, our mouths with praise, and clothe our faces with a cheer-
ful aspect, and make a holy alacrity appear in all our conversa-
tions?
But let not the design of this discourse be mistaken. It is not
a presumptuous confidence I would encourage, nor a vain os-
tentation, nor a disdainful over-looking of others whom we fan-
cy ourselves to excel. Such things hold no proportion with a
Christian spirit. His is a modest, humble exultation; a serious,
severe joy; suitable to his solid, stable hope. His spirit is not
puffed up and swollen with air, it is not big by an inflation, or a
light and windy tumor, but it is really filled with effectual pre-
apprehensions of a weighty glory. His joy accordingly exerts
itself with a steady, lively vigor, equally removed from vain
lightness and stupidity, from conceitedness, and insensibleness.
of his blessed state. He forgets not that he is less than the least
of God's mercies, but disowns not his title to the greatest of
them. He abases himself to the dust, in the sense of his own
vileness; but in the admiration of divine grace, he rises as high
as heaven. In his humiliation, he affects to equal himself with
worms, in his joy and praise, with angels. He is never unwil-
ling to diminish himself, but afraid of detracting any thing from
the love of God, or the issues of that love. But most of all he
magnifies (as he hath cause) this its last and most perfect issue.
224
THE BLESSEDNESS
And by how much he apprehends his own unworthiness, he is
the more wrapt up into a wonderful joy, that such blessedness
should be his designed portion. But now, how little do we find
in ourselves of this blessed frame of spirit? How remote are we
from it? Let us but inquire a little into our own souls are there
not too apparent symptoms with us of the little joy we take in
the fore-thoughts of future blessedness? For,
(1.) How few thoughts have we of it? What any delight in,
they remember often. It is said of the same person, that his de-
light is in the law of the Lord, and that in his law he doth med-
itate day and night. Psal. 1. 2. And when the Psalmist pro-
fesses his own delight in God's statutes, he adds, I will not for-
get thy word. Psal. 119. 16.
19. 16. Should we not be as unapt to
forget heaven, if our delight were there? But do not days pass
with us, wherein we can allow ourselves no leisure to mind the
eternal glory; when yet vanities throng in upon us, without any
obstruction or check? And (what is consequent hereupon,) how
seldom is this blessed state the subject of our discourse? How
often do christians meet, and not a word of heaven? O heavy,
carnal hearts! Our home and eternal blessedness in this, appears
forgotten among us. How often may a person converse with us,
before he understand our relation to the heavenly country? If
exiles meet in a foreign land, what pleasant discourse have they
of home? They suffer not one another to forget it. Such was
their remembrance of Sion, who sat together bemoaning them-
selves by the rivers of Babylon, a making mention of it, as the
phrase is often used. And methinks (even as to this remem-
brance) it should be our own common resolution too; If we for-
get thee, O Jerusalem; if we forgot to make mention of thee,
O thou city of the living God; let our right hand forget her
cunning; our tongue shall sooner cleave to the roof of our mouth ;
and so it would be, did we prefer that heavenly Jerusalem above
our chief joy.
(2.) How little doth it weigh with us? It serves not to out-
weigh the smallest trouble; if we have not our carnal desire in
every thing gratified, if any thing fall out cross to our inclina-
tions, this glory goes for nothing with us. Our discontents swal-
low up our hopes and joys; and heaven is reckoned as a thing
of nought. If when outward troubles afflict or threaten us, we
could have the certain prospect of better days, that would sen-
sibly revive and please us. Yea, can we not please ourselves
with very uncertain groundless hopes of this kind, without pro-
mise or valuable reason ? But to be told of a recompense at
the resurrection of the just, of a day when we shall see the
face of God, and be satisfied with his likeness; this is insipid
and without savour to us, and affords us but cold comfort. The
uncertain things of time, signify more with us, than the certain
things of eternity. Can we think it is all this while well with
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
225
us? Can we think this is a tolerable evil, or suffer with pa-
tience such a distemper of spirit? Methinks it should make us
even weary of ourselves, and solicitous for an effectual, speedy
redress.
The redress must be more in our own doing, (striving with our
souls and our God for them) than in what any man can say.
Most of the considerations under that foregoing rule, are with
little variation applicable to this present purpose. I shall here
annex only some few subordinate directions; which may lead us
into this blessed state of life, and give us some joyful fore-tastes
of the future blessedness, according as our spirits shall comply
with them. But expect not to be cured by prescriptions, with-
out using them; or that heavenly joy can be the creature of
mortal, unregarded breath; we can only prescribe means and
methods through which God may be pleased to descend, and in
which thou art diligently to insist and wait. And because I can-
not well suppose thee ignorant, where much is said to this pur-
pose; I shall therefore say little.
[1.] Possess thy soul with the apprehension, that thou art not
at liberty in this matter? but that there is a certain spiritual
delectation, which is incumbent on thee as indispensable duty.
Some, whose moroser tempers do more estrange them from de-
lights, think themselves more especially concerned, to banish
every thing of that kind from their religion, and fancy it only
to consist in sour and righteous severities. Others seem to
think it arbitrary and indifferent; or that, if they live in a con-
tinual sadness and dejection of spirit, it is only their infelicity,
not their fault; and apprehend not the obligation that is upon
them by a divine law, otherwise to manage and order their spi-
rits. But what then, Are such words thought to be spoken at ran-
dom, Her ways are ways of pleasantness. Prov. 3. 17. The
Lord is the portion of mine inheritance. Psal. 16. 5. The
lines are fallen to me in pleasant places, (or, in the midst of plea-
santness, as the expression hath been noted to signify?) Do such
precepts carry no sense with them; Delight thyself in the Lord.
Psal. 37. 4. Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say, re-
joice; Phil. 4. 4. with many more? Do all passages of this
kind in Scripture stand for cyphers, or were they put in them
by chance? Is there such a thing as an aptitude to delectation
in our natures; and doth the sanctification thereof entitle the
joy of saints to a place among the fruits of the Spirit; (Gal. 5.
22.) and yet is the exercise of it to have no place in their hearts
and practice? Do not think you are permitted so to extinguish
or frustrate so considerable a principle of the divine life. Know,
that the due exercise of it is a part of the order and discipline of
God's family that it is a constitution of the divine goodness
and wisdom both to cherish his own, and invite in strangers to
him. Yea, that is the scope and aim of the whole gospel reve-
VOL. I.
29
226
THE BLESSEDNESS
lation, that what is discovered to us of the word of life, was
purposely written to draw souls unto fellowship with the Father
and Son, that their joy might be full; (1 John 1. 4.) that the
ministers of this gospel are therefore styled the helpers of their
joy. 2 Cor. 1. 24. Therefore, though here it be not required
nor allowed, that you should indulge a vain, trifling levity, or a
sensual joy, or that you should rejoice you know not why, (im-
itating the laughter of a fool,) or inopportunely, when your
state admits it not, or when the Lord calls to mourning; yet set-
tle however this persuasion in your hearts, that the serious, ra-
tional, regular, seasonable exercise of delight and joy is matter
of duty, to be charged upon conscience, from the authority of
God; and is an integral part in the religion of christians. And
then sure you will not think any object more proper and suita-
ble for it to be exercised upon, than the foreseen state of bless-
edness, which is in itself a fulness of joy; (Psal. 16. 11.) the
joy of our Lord. Mat. 25. 21. And is, in the pre-apprehen-
sions of it, a more considerable matter of joy than our present
state affords us beside; and without relation whereto we have
no matter of rational joy at all.
[2.] Keep faith in exercise; both in that act of it which per-
suades the soul of the truth of the gospel revelation, and that
act of it which unites it to God through the Mediator. The
apostle prays on the behalf of his Roman christians, that they
might be filled with joy and peace in believing; (Rom. 15. 13.)
and we are told, how effectually (as to this) it supplied the place
of sight. Such as had not seen Christ, (which was the privilege
of many other christians of that time,) yet believing, did re-
joice with joy unspeakable and glorious. 1 Pet. 1. 8. Faith
directly tends, in that double office before-mentioned, to excite
and foment this joy. As it assents to the truth of the gospel
revelation, it realizes the object, is the substance and evidence
of the invisible glory. Heb. 11. 1. As it unites the soul with
God through Christ, in a fiducial and obediential closure, it as-
certains our interest therein, and is our actual acceptance of our
blessedness itself; for when we take God through Christ to be
our God, what is it, but to accept him as our eternal and satis-
fying portion, whom we are after fully to enjoy, in the vision and
participation of his glorious excellencies and infinite fulness?
Which two acts of faith we have mentioned together in one
text, they were persuaded of the promises, and embrace them;
the former respecting the truth of the promises, the latter the
goodness of the thing promised. And hereupon they confessed
themselves (as it follows) pilgrims and strangers on earth;
which abdication of the earth as none of their country, could
not be, but that through their faith they had a joyous pre-appre-
hension of that better state. That confession did manifestly in-
volve in it a lively joy, springing from the sight and embrace of
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
227
that more taking, distant good which the promise presented them
with; whence they could not think it enough, to be such to
themselves in their own thoughts and the temper of their minds;
but they cannot forbear (so overcoming were their sights and
tastes) to give it out, so speak, and look, and live, as those that
were carried up in their spirits above this earth, and who did
even disdain to own themselves in any other relation to it than
that of foreigners and strangers.
Set thy faith on work, soul, and keep it at work, and thou wilt
find this no riddle; it will be so with thee too; we have much
talk of faith among us, and have the name often in our mouths,
but how few are the real lively believers? Is it to be thought
that such blessedness should not more affect our hearts; nay
would it not ravish away our very souls, did we thoroughly be-
lieve it? And were it our present daily work, to renew the
bonds of a vital union with the blessed God, in whom we expect
to be blessed forever, could that be without previous gusts of
pleasure? It is not talking of faith but living by it, that will
give us the experience of heavenly delights and joys.
[3.] Take heed of going in thy practice against thy light; of
persisting in a course of known or suspected sin, that states thee
in a direct hostility and rebellion against heaven; and can never
suffer thee to think of eternity and the other world with com-
fort; will fill thy mind with frightful apprehensions of God, ren-
der the sight of his face the most terrible thing to thy thoughts
thou canst imagine; and satisfaction with his likeness the most
impossible thing. Let a good understading and correspondence,
be continued between God and thee, (which is not possible, if
thou disobeyest the dictates of thy conscience, and takest the
liberty to do what thou judgest God hath forbidden thee) that
this may be thy rejoicing; the testimony of a good conscience;
that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not according to fleshy
wisdom, but by the grace of God thou hast had thy conversa-
tion. Take God for a witness of thy ways and walkings; ap-
prove thyself to his jealous eye; study to carry thyself accept-
ably towards him, and unto all well pleasing. Let that be thy
ambition, to stand right in his thoughts, to appear gracious in
his eyes. Hold fast thine integrity, that thy heart may not re-
proach thee as long as thou livest. If iniquity be in thy hand,
put it away; then shalt thou lift up thy face without spot and
without fear. Be a faithful subject of that kingdom of God,
(and here conscience rules under him,) which consists first in
righteousness, and then in peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.
Thou wilt, so, daily behold the face of God in righteousness and
with pleasure; but wilt most of all please thyself to think of
thy final appearance, before him, and the blessedness that shall
ensue.
[4.] Watch and arm thyself against the too forcible strokes
228
THE BLESSEDNESS
and impressions of sensible objects. Let not the savour of such
low, vile things corrupt the palate of thy soul. A sensual,
earthly mind and heart cannot taste heavenly delights; they that
are after the flesh do savour the things of the flesh; they that
are after the Spirit, the things of the Spirit. Labor, to be thor-
oughly mortified towards this world and the present state of
things. Look upon this scene and pageant as passing away;
(1 Cor. 7. 31. 1 John. 2. 17.) keep natural appetites under
restraint, (the world and the lusts of it pass away together:)
sensuality is an impure thing. Heavenly, refined joy cannot
live amidst so much filth. Yea, and if thou give thy flesh liber-
ty too far in things that are (in specie) lawful it will soon get
advantage to domineer and keep thy soul in a depressing ser-
vitude. Abridge it then, and cut it short, that thy mind may
be enlarged and at liberty, may not be thronged and pre-
possessed with carnal imaginations and affections, "Let thy soul"
(if thou wilt take this instruction from a heathen, Max. Tyr. in
disser. τί οἱ θέοι κατὰ Πλάτωνος on the nature of the gods according
to Plato,) "look with a constant erect mind into the undefiled
light, neither darkened nor borne down towards the earth; but
stopping its ears, and turning its eyes and all other senses back
upon itself; and quite abolishing out of itself, all earthly sighs,
and groans, and pleasures and glories and honors and disgrace;
and having forsaken all these, choose for the guides of its way,
true reason and strong love, the one whereof will shew it the
way, the other make it easy and pleasant."
[5.] Having voided thy mind of what is earthly and carnal,
apply and turn it to this blessed theme. The most excellent
and the vilest objects are alike to thee, while thou mindest them
not. Thy thoughts possibly bring thee in nothing but vexation
and trouble, which would bring in as soon joy and pleasure,
didst thou turn them to proper objects. A thought of the hea-
venly glory is as soon thought of as an earthly cross.
We com-
plain the world troubles us; then what do we there? Why
get we not up, in our spirits, into the quieter region? What
trouble would the thoughts of future glory be to us?
thoughts and wits set on work for this flesh? But we would
have our souls flourish as the lilies, without any thing of their
own care. Yea, we make them toil for torture, and not for joy,
revolve an affliction a thousand times before and after it comes,
and have never done with it, when eternal blessedness gains not
a thought.
How are
[6.] Plead earnestly with God for his Spirit. This is joy in
the Holy Ghost; or whereof he is the author. Many christians
(as they must be called) are such strangers to this work of im-
ploring and calling in the blessed Spirit, as if they were capable
of adopting these words, we have not so much as heard whether
there be a Holy Ghost. That name is with them as an empty
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
229
sound, How hardly are we convinced of our necessary depend-
ance on that free Spirit, as to all our truly spiritual operations ?
This Spirit is the very earnest of our inheritance. The fore-
tastes and first fruits we have here of the future blessedness, the
joy and pleasure, the complacential relishes we have of it be-
fore-hand, are by the gracious vouchsafement and work of this
blessed Spirit. The things that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
and which have not entered into the heart of man, are revealed
by this Spirit. Therefore doth the apostle direct his prayer on
the behalf of the Ephesians, to the Father of this glory that he
would give this Spirit of wisdom and revelation, to enlighten
the eyes of their understanding, that they might know the hope
of his calling, and the riches of the glory of his inheritance in
(or among) the saints. Eph. 1. 18. And its revelation is such as
begets an impression; in respect whereof, it is said also, to seal
up to the day of redemption. Therefore pray earnestly for this
Spirit; not in idle, dreaming words of course, but as being real-
ly apprehensive of the necessity of prevailing and give not over
till thou find that sacred fire diffusing itself through thy mind.
and heart, to enlighten the one and refine the other, and so pre-
possess both of this glory, that thy soul may be all turned into
joy and praise. And then let me add here, (without the formali-
ty of a distinct head) that it concerns thee to take heed of
quenching that Spirit, by either resisting or neglecting its holy
dictates or, as the same precept is otherwise given, of grieving
the Spirit: he is by name and office the Comforter. The prim-
itive christians, it is said, walked in the fear of God, and in the
comfort of the Holy Ghost. Is it equal dealing, to grieve him
whose business it is to comfort thee? Or canst thou expect joy
where thou causest grief? Walk in the Spirit; adore its power.
Let thy soul do it homage within thee. Wait for its holy influ-
ences, and yield thyself to its ducture and guidance; so wilt
thou go as the redeemed of the Lord, with everlasting joy upon
thy head till thou enter that presence, where is fulness of joy
and pleasures for evermore.
Nor do thou think it improper or strange, that thou shouldst
be called upon to rejoice in what thou dost not yet possess. Thy
hope is instead of fruition; it is an anticipated enjoyment. We
are commanded to rejoice even in the hope; (Rom. 12. 12.)
and saints have professed to do so, to rejoice even in the hope of
the glory of God. Rom. 5. 2. Nor is it unreasonable that should
be thy present highest joy. For though yet it be a distant thing,
and indistinetly revealed, the excellency of the object makes
compensation for both, with an abundant surplusage. As any
one would much more rejoice to be assured by a great person,
of ample possessions he would make him his heir to, (though he
knew not distinctly what they should be,) than to see a shilling,
already his own, with his own eyes.
230
THE BLESSEDNESS
CHAPTER XX.
The addition of two rules, that more specially respect the yet future season of
this blessedness, after this life; namely, Rule 7. That we patiently wait
for it until death. Rule 8. That we love not too much this present life.
There are yet two more rules to be superadded, that respect
the season of this blessedness,-when we awake,—that is, not
till we go out of time into eternity, not till we pass out of the
drowsy darkness of our present state, till the night be over with
us, and the vigorous light of the everlasting day do shine upon
Hence therefore it will be further necessary:
us.
7. That while the appointed proper season of this blessed-
ness is not yet come, (that is, till God shall vouchsafe to trans-
late us from our present earthly state,) we compose our spirits
to a patient expectation of it. Upon a twofold account, the ex-
ercise of patience is very requisite in the present case, namely,
both in respect of this every expectation itself, and also in re-
spect of the concomitant miseries of this expecting state. In
the former respect, an absent good is the matter of our pa-
tience; in the latter, present and incumbent evil. It falls more
directly in our way, to speak to the exercise of patience upon
the former account; yet as to the latter, (though it be more col-
lateral as our present purpose,) it cannot be unseasonable briefly
to consider that also.
(1.) Therefore, The very expectation itself of this blessed-
ness, renders patience very requisite to our present state. Pa-
tince hath as proper and necessary an exercise in expecting the
good we want and desire, as in enduring the evil that is actually
upon us.
The direction (it must be remembered) intends such
only as apprehend and desire this blessedness as their greatest
good, whose souls are transported with earnest longings fully to
enjoy what they have foretasted. I am apprehensive enough,
that others need it not. There is no use of patience in expect-
ing what we desire not. But as to those who desire it most,
and who therefore are most concerned in this advice, it may
possibly become a doubt, how since there is sin in our present
ignorance of God and unlikeness to him, this can be the matter
of any patience. We must therefore know, that as our knowl-
edge of God, and conformity to him, are both our duty and bles-
sedness, the matter both of our endeavor and of God's vouch-
safement; so our ignorance of him, and unlikeness to him, are
1
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
231
both our sin and our misery; which, misery though God hath
graciously removed it in part, yet also he continues it upon us
in part, (as our sad experience tells us,) by his just and wise
dispensation, which we cannot except against. Now therefore,
looking upon the defect of our knowledge of God and likeness
to him, under the former notion, though we are to reflect upon
ourselves with great displeasure and indignation; yet looking on
them in the latter notion, we are to submit to the righteous dis-
pensation of God with a meek, unrepining patience. By this
patience, therefore, I mean not a stupid succumbency under the
remaining disease and distemper of our spirits, in this our pre-
sent state; a senseless indifferency and oscitant cessation from
continual endeavors of further redress; but a silent and submis-
sive veneration of divine wisdom, and justice, and goodness, that
are sweetly complicated in this procedure with us, with a quiet,
peaceful expectation of the blessed issue of it. This being
premised, I shall briefly shew, that we have need of patience,
and that we have reason for it in this present case.
[1] That we have need of it, (supposing our souls are intent
upon glory, that we are in earnest in this pursuit) will appear
upon sundry accounts.
First, The greatness of the thing we expect. To behold the
face of God, to be satisfied with his likeness. What serious
heart, apprehensive of its own concerns, can without much pa-
tience hold out under such an expectation? How do lovers that ex-
pect the marriage day, tell the hours, and chide the sun that it
makes no more haste? But how can that soul contain itself, that
expects the most intimate fruition of the Lord of glory?
Secondly. Consider the continual representation and frequent
inculcations of this glory. Its vigorous, powerful beams are by
often repeated pulsations, continually beating upon such souls as
are intent towards it. Life and immortality are brought to light
in the gospel; and they are obliged by command and inclination
to attend its discoveries. The eye that is once smitten, looks
again and again, it is not satisfied with seeing: and every renew-
ed look meets with still fresh rays of glory; they have frequent
foretastes and prelibations, which still give life to new desires.
To lie under the direct stroke of the powers of the world to
come, this requires much patience to sustain the burden of such
an expectation. Life itself were otherwise a bitter and a weari-
some thing. And the want of such foretastes (for alas they
* Canerem tibi angelica voce thronorum, quam mirifica semper in patria
dulcedine repleamur; nisi vererer, ne forte, posthac, tantæ dulcedinis hujus
comparatione, tota tibi in terris vita non solum amarissima, verum etiam
amaritudo ipsa penitus videatur; I would sing to thee in a voice of the an-
gelic choirs; we would ever indulge the most extatic delight in our country;
were it not to be feared lest from the contrast of such sweetness, the whole
of this life on earth should afterwards seem to thee not only exceedingly bit-
ter, but even bitterness itself. M. Ficin. Epis.
232
THE BLESSEDNESS
are not constant) makes desire more restless, and expectation
more bitter and grievous.
Thirdly. Consider the nature and spring of these desires, that
work in heavenly souls towards this glory. They are of a di-
vine nature and original; He that hath wrought us to this self-
same thing is God, 2 Cor. 5. 5. Observe the tenor of this pro-
position; God is not the subject of predication, but the predi-
cate. The action is not predicated of God, as it would in this
form of words, God hath wrought us &c. but God is predicated
of this agent, as if he had said, this is the work of a Deity;
none but God could be the author of such desires. That a soul
should be acted towards glory by the alone power of an almighty
hand! here needs a divine patience to sustain it, and make it
strong and able to endure such a motion, where there is divine
power to act and move it forward. The frame could not hold
else, it must dissolve. The apostle therefore praying for the
Thessalonians, that God would direct their hearts into the love
of himself, (which could not but enflame their souls with a de-
sire of a perfect vision and enjoyment,) presently adds, and into
the patient waiting for Christ. 2 Thes. 3. 5. Where we cannot
by the way but reflect upon the admirable constitution and equal
temper of the new creature, as to the principles that are ingre-
dient into the composition of it, fervent desires, allayed with
meek submission, mighty love, with strong patience. If we
consider it in actu signalo, or in its abstract idea, this is its tem-
perament; and of these there is a gradual participation, wher-
ever you find it actually existing. God had otherwise formed a
creature (the prime of his creatures) so as by its most intrinsical
constituent principles to be a torment to itself.
Fourthly. The tiresome nature of expectation in itself, is not
least considerable. It carries (it is true) pleasure (if it be hop-
ing expectation) with it; but not without a great admixture of
pain. It brings a kind of torture to the mind, as a continued
exertion or stretching forth of the neck (by which it is express-
ed) doth to the body. Therefore it is most significantly said by
the wise man, Hope deferred makes the heart sick. Prov. 13. 12.
All these, I say, together discover the truth of what the apostle
tells as,
We have need of patience, that when we, &c. we may
inherit the promise. Heb. 10. 26.
[2.] And as we have need of it, so we have also reason for
it, upon many accounts. It is no piece of rigorous severity to
be put upon the exercise of some patience, to be kept awhile
in a waiting posture for the completion of this blessedness.
For,
First, The thing you expect is sure. You have not to do in
this matter with one who is inconstant or likely to change. If
such a one should make us large promises, we should have some
cause never to think ourselves secure, till we had them made
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
233
good to us. But since we live in the hope of eternal life, which
God who cannot lie (Tit. 1. 2.) and who, we know, is faithful,
hath promised, (Heb. 10. 23.) we may be confident, and this
confidence should quiet our hearts. What a faithful friend keeps
for us, we reckon as safe in his hands as in our own. He that
believes, makes not haste. And impatient haste argues an unbe-
lieving jealousy and distrust. Surely, there is an end, and thy
expectation will not be cut off.
Secondly. It is a happiness that will recompense the most
wearisome expectation. It were good sometimes to consider
with ourselves, What is the object of our hope? are our expect-
ations pitched upon a valuable good, that will be worth while
to expect? so the Psalmist, What wait I for? and he answers
himself, My hope is in thee. Psal. 39. 7.
Psal. 39. 7. Sure then that hope
will not make ashamed. It were a confounding thing to have
been a long time full of great hopes that at last dwindle into some
petite trifle, but when we know before-hand the business is such
as will defray itself, bear its own charges, who would not be con-
tented to wait?
;
Thirdly. Nor will the time of expectation be long-when I
shall awake-when he shall appear. Put it to the longest term,
it was said, sixteen hundred years ago, to be but a little while
three times over in the shutting up of the Bible he tells us, I
come quickly. He seems to foresee he should be something
impatiently expected and at last, Surely I come quickly, as if
he had said, What, will you not believe me? Be patient, saith
the apostle, to the coming of the Lord and presently he adds,
be patient, stablish you hearts, for the coming of the Lord draw-
eth nigh. James 5. 8.
Fourthly. Yea, and amidst the many troubles of that short
time of expectation many present comforts are intermixed.
Heaven is open to us. We have constant liberty of access to
God. He disdains not our present converse. We may have
the constant pleasure of the exercise of grace, the heavenly de-
lights of meditation, the joy of the public solemnities of worship,
the communion and encouragement of fellow christians, the light
of that countenance whereof we expect the eternal vision, the
comforts of the Holy Ghost, the continual prospect of glory all
the way thither. What cause have we of impatience or com-
plaint?
Fifthly. Saints of all ages have had their expecting time.
We are required to be followers of them who through faith and
patience have inherited the promises. Our Saviour himself
waited a life's time for his glorification. I have (saith he)
glorified thee on earth; I have finished the work thou gavest
me to do! And now, Father, glorify me with thine own self,
&c.
Sixthly. And while we are waiting, if it be not our fault, our
30
VOL. I.
234
THE BLESSEDNESS
glory will be increasing. We may be glorifying God in the mean
time, which is the end of our beings; we need Lot live here to
no purpose.
Seventhly. We were well enough content, till God more
clearly revealed that other state, to live always as we do. It is
not now ingenuous to be impatiently querulous about the time
of our entering into it. It is his free vouchsafement; we never
merited such a thing at his hands. It is not commendable among
men, to be overquick in exacting debts even where there was
an antecedent right, much less where the right only shall accrue
by promise, not yet sueable; would it not shame us to have God
say to us, Have patience with me, and I will pay you all? And
our former state should be often reflected on. If you had pro-
mised great things to a wretch lately taken off the dunghill, and
he is every day impatiently urging you to an untimely accom-
plishment, would you not check his over-bold haste, by mind-
ing him of his original? It becomes not base and lowborn per-
sons to be transported with a preposterous, over-hasty expecta-
tion of high and great things. And if God bear with the sin-
fulness of our present state, is it not reasonable we should bear
with the infelicity of it to his appointed time? Besides that, we
should much injure ourselves by our impatiency; imbitter our
present condition, increase our own burden, dissipate our strength,
retard our progress towards the perfection we profess to aim at;
for patience must have its perfect work, that we may be perfect.
Jam. 1. 4.
And others, that have had as clear apprehensions and vigorous
desires (at least) of the future state of glory as we can, with
modesty, pretend to, have yet herein moderated themselves so,
as to intend their present work with composed spirits. Take
that one instance of the blessed apostle, who, whilst in this
earthly tabernacle he groaned, being burdened to be clothed
with glory, and to have mortality swallowed up of life, being
sensible enough, that during his abode or presence in the body,
he was absent from the Lord; yet notwithstanding the fervor and
vehemency of these longings, with the greatest calmness and
resignation imaginable, as to the termination or continuance of
his present state, he adds, that though he had rather be absent
from the body, to be present with the Lord, it was yet his chief am-
bition (as the word out he uses signifies) whether present
or absent (as if in comparison of that, to be present or absent
were indifferent, though otherwise out of that comparison, he
had told us, he would be absent rather) to be svágsço, accepted, to
appear grateful and well-pleasing in the eye of God; such that he
might delight and take content in, as his expression imports.
As if he had said, though I am not unapprehensive of the state of
my case, I know well, I am kept out of a far more desirable con-
dition, while I remain in this tabernacle; yet, may I but please
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
235
and appear acceptable in the sight of God, whether I be sooner
dismissed from this thraldom, or longer continued in it, I con-
tend not. His burden here, that so sensibly pressed him, was
not a present evil so much as an absent good. He was not so
burdened by what he felt and could not remove, as by what he
saw and could not enjoy. His groans accordingly were not bru-
tal, as those of a beast under a too heavy load; but rational,
the groans of an apprehensive spirit panting after an alluring, in-
viting glory, which he had got the prospect of but could not yet
attain. And hence the same spiritual reason which did exercise,
did also, at once, moderate his desires; so that, as he saw there
was reason to desire, so he saw there was reason his desires
should be allayed by a submissive, ingenuous patience, till they
might have a due and seasonable accomplishment. And that
same temper of mind we find in him, when he professes to be
in a strait between two, having a desire to be dissolved, and to
be with Christ, (Phil. 1. 23.) which he thought to be far better,
and yet apprehended his longer abode in the world to be need-
ful for the service of the church; whereupon he expresses his
confidence, that he should abide longer, and therein discovers
how well contented he was, it should be so. Therefore, as in
reference to this very expectation itself, there is great need of
patience; so the exercise of it in this case hath nothing harsh
or unreasonable in it, or which the spirit of a saint may not well
comport with.
(2.) And for the exercise of patience upon the latter account;
the concomitant miseries of this our present expecting state: I
need not insist to show how needful it is, this being that which
our own sense will sufficiently instruct us in. We are not to
expect the future state of blessedness in a state of present ease
and rest, in a quiet, friendly world, in a calm and peaceful re-
gion, under placid and benign influences from men and times;
but amidst storms, and tempests, and troubles on every side,
under frowns and displeasures, threats and dangers, harsh and
rough severities, ill and ungentle usages, flouts and scorns,
wrongs and injurious dealings, wants and pressures in many
kinds. When the world is once forsaken by us, it grows angry ;
if we disclaim it, and avow ourselves not to be of it, become
confessed strangers and pilgrims in it, set ourselves seriously and
visibly to mind and design something above and beyond it, dis-
cover ourselves to be of them that are called out of it; from the
same principle that it loves its own, it will hate us; when once
God calls us his sons, the world will not know us. 1 Joh. 3. 1.
We see in this context we are discoursing from, what the Psalm-
ist's condition was, whilst as yet he remained under this blessed
expectation; he found the men of time, whose portion was in
this life, to be deadly enemies, wicked oppressors, proud insult-
ers; they were to him as greedy lions, as a blood-thirsty sword.
236
THE BLESSEDNESS
His cries to be delivered from them, shew what he met with at
their hands, or thought he had reason to fear. Nor can so ra-
ging enmity and hate, ever cease to meditate mischiefs and cru-
elties. The same principle still remains in all the serpent's
brood, and will still be putting forth itself in suitable practices,
which cannot but infer to the contrary seed continual trouble and
matter of complaint.
And, in short, whatever is here the matter of your complaint,
ought to be the matter of your patience. Whence it cannot be
doubted the matter of it will be very copious; so as to require
the all of patience (as the apostle speaks;) which his addressing
this solemn request to God on, the behalf of these Collossian
christians plainly intimates. He prays that they may be
strenghtened with all might according to the glorious power of
God unto all patience, &c. Col. 1. 11. Patience is the christian's
suffering power, it is passive fortitude, an ability to suffer; and
so apprehensive he is of their great need of a full and ample sup-
ply of this power, that he prays that they might be strengthened
in this kind with might, with all might; that they might be even
almighty sufferers; strengthened with a might according and
corresponding to the glorious power of God himself; such as might
appear the proper impress and image of divine power, whereof
the divine power might be both the principle and the pattern
(for the patience whereby God bears the wrongs done to him is
called the power too; Let the power of the Lord be great as
thou hast spoken, saying, the Lord is long-suffering, forgiving,
&c.) And this unto all patience, where patience is put for an
act of this power, or must be understood of patience in exercise,
actual bearing. Nor are we to look upon the expressions of this
prayer as so many hyperbolical strains, or rhetorical schemes of
speech. He prays according to the apprehension he had of the
necessity of suffering christians.
And yet how much soever the need is, the reason is not less,
it is a thing as possible as it is necessary; yea, there is more in
the power of the cause, than to work this single effect. I mean
it not only of the efficient cause mentioned before, but of the
objective or final (as having such a superabundant sufficiency in
its kind also) hinted in the close of the following verse. He
doth not utter vain and groundless wishes, when he prays, that
to that all of patience they might add joyfulness too, and giving
of thanks; no, the matter (as if he had said) will bear it, even
the inheritance of the saints in light, the very expectation ob-
jective, I am speaking of. It hath enough in it to induce, not
only patience, but joy, not a contented bearing only, but giving
of thanks too, to him that hath made you meet for that inheri
tance. ver. 12. True it is indeed, that the very need we have
of patience, and the gain that would accrue by it, is itself a rea-
son, why we should labor to frame our spirits to it for if such
:
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
237
evils must be undergone, how much better is it to bear them
alone, than to have the disease of a wounded, impatient spirit,
to bear also as an additional burden. The law of patience is cer-
tainly a most indulgent, merciful law, a gracious provision (as
much as can be made by a law) for the quiet and ease of our
spirits, under the sharpest and most afflictive sufferings. As
might at large be shown, were it suitable to fall into discourse
of patience in itself considered; and to treat of that rest and
pleasure, that liberty of spirit, that possession and dominion of
one's own soul, which it carries in it: but that were too much a
digression. It only falls directly here in our way to consider,
that as we have many grievances and pressures to undergo, while
we are expecting the future blessedness, which render the ex-
ercise of patience very requisite, so that there is enough of
weight and worth in that very expectation, (that is in what we
expect) to outweigh them all, and to render the exercise there-
of highly reasonable upon that account. I reckon (saith the
apostle) that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy
to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us, Rom.
8. 18. Thus (saith he) I reckon, that is, It is my stated, settled
judgment, not a sudden, rash thought. When I have reasoned
the matter with myself, weighed it well, considered the case,
turned it round, viewed it exactly on every side, balanced ad-
vantages and disadvantages, pondered all things which are fit to
come into consideration about it, this is the result, the final de-
termination, that which I conclude and judge at last, (judgment
is the last product and issue of the most exquisite inquiry and
debate, the ultimate and most perfect act of reason,) that the
sufferings of this now of time are of no value; things not fit,
as it were, to be mentioned the same day with the glory to be
revealed, &c. It can therefore be no hard law, no unreasonable
imposition, that shall oblige us to the exercise of patience, under
such sufferings, in the expectation of so transcendent glory. For,
consider, These sufferings are but from men, (for the sufferings
of which the apostle here speaks, are such as wherein we
suffer together with Christ, that is for his name and inter-
est, on behalf of the Christian cause :) but this glory is from God.
How disproportionable must the effects be of a created and in-
created cause.-Again, these sufferings reach no further than
the bone and flesh, (fear not them that kill the body, and after
they have done that, can do no more, &c.) but this glory reaches
unto, and transforms the soul. How little can a clod of earth
suffer, in comparison of what an immortal spirit may enjoy?
And further, there is much mixture in our present sufferings;
the present state of suffering saints is not a state of total misery;
there are, as it were, rays of glory interiaced with their present
afflictions but there will be nothing of affliction mingled with
their future glory.
:
238
THE
BLESSEDNESS
Is
Yea, and (what may not only convince, but even transport us
too) these sufferings are but temporary, nay but momentary,
this glory eternal. What heart is big enough to comprehend
the full sense of these words, Our light affliction which is but
for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory. 2 Cor. 4. 17. How might I dwell here upon
every syllable, light affliction, weighty glory, exceeding weight;
affliction for a moment, eternal weight of glory! O then, how
unworthy is it of the Christian name and hopes, that we should
have an impatient resentment of this method God follows with
us, (as he did with our great Redeemer and Lord) that we
should suffer first, and then enter into glory! Heaven, were a
poor heaven, if it would not make us savers. It were high time
for us to give over the Christian profession, if we do not really
account, that its reward and hope do surmount its reproach and
trouble; or do think its cross more weighty than its crown.
the price and worth of eternal glory fallen? It hath been count-
ed worth suffering for. There have been those in the world.
that would not accept deliverance from these sufferings, that they
might obtain the better resurrection. Are we grown wiser? Or
would we indeed wish God should turn the tables, and assign us
our good things here, and hereafter evil things? Uugrateful souls!
How severe should we be to ourselves, that we should be so apt
to complain for what we should admire and give thanks! What,
because purer and more refined Christianity in our time and in
this part of the world hath had public favor and countenance,
can we therefore not tell how to frame our minds to the thoughts
of sufferings? Are tribulation and patience antiquated names,
quite out of date and use with us, and more ungrateful to our
ears and hearts, than heaven and eternal glory are acceptable?
And had we rather (if we were in danger of suffering on the
Christian account) run a hazard as to the latter, than adventure
on the former? Or do we think it impossible we should ever
come to the trial, or be concerned to busy ourselves with such
thoughts? Is the world become stable and so unacquainted with
vicissitudes, that a state of things less favorable to our profession
can never revolve upon us? It were, however, not unuseful to
put such a case by way of supposition to ourselves. For every
sincere christian is in affection and preparation of his mind a
martyr. He that loves not Christ better than his own life, can-
not be his disciple. We should at least inure our thoughts more
to a suffering state, that we may thence take some occasion to
reflect and judge of the temper of our hearts towards the name
and cause of Christ. It is easy suffering indeed, in idea and
contemplation; but something may be collected from the obser-
vation, how we can relish and comport with such thoughts. It
is as training in order to fight; which is done often upon a very
remote supposition, that such occasions may possibly fall out.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
239
Therefore, What now do we think of it if our way into the
kingdom of God shall be through many tribulations? If, before
we behold the smiles of his blessed face, we must be entertained
with the less pleasing sight of the frowning aspect and visage of
an angry world? If we first bear the image of a crucified Christ,
before we partake of the likeness of a glorious God? What, do
we regret the thoughts of it; Do we account we shall be ill
dealt with, and have a hard bargain of it? O how tender are
we grown, in comparison of the hardiness and magnanimity of
primitive christians? we have not the patience to think of what
they had the patience to endure. We should not yet foget our-
selves, that such a thing belongs to our profession, even in this
way to testify our fidelity to Christ, and our value of the inheri-
tance purchased by his blood, if he call us thereunto. We must
know it is a thing inserted into the religion of christians, and
(with respect to their condition in this world) made an essential
thereto. He cannot be a christian, that doth not deny himself
and take up the cross. How often when the active part of a
christian's duty is spoken of, is the passive part studiously and
expressively annexed? Let us run with patience the race that is
set before us. Heb. 12. 1. The good ground brought forth
fruit, with patience, Matt. 13. eternal life is for them that by a pa-
tient continuance in well-doing seek after it. Rom. 2. 7. Yea,
and hence the word of Christ is called the word of his patience.
Rev. 3. chap. 1. And the style wherein the beloved disciple
speaks of himself, and his profession is this, I John, a compan-
ion in tribulation and in the kingdom and patience of Jesus
Christ. Do we mean to plead prescription against all this? or
have we got an express exemption? Have we a discharge to
shew, a manumission from all the suffering part of a christian's
duty and is it not a discharge also from being christians as
much? Will we disavow ourselves to belong to that noble socie-
ty of them that through faith and patience inherit the promises?
Surely we are highly conceited of ourselves, if we think we are
too good to be numbered among them of whom the world was
not worthy. Or we design to ourselves a long abode here, while
we so much value the world's favor, and a freedom from worldly
trouble or eternity is with us an empty sound, and the future
blessedness of saints an airy thing, that we should reckon it in-
sufficient to counterpoise the sufferings of a few hasty days that
will so soon have an end. It is a sad symptom of the declining
state of religion, when the powers of the world to come are
so over-mastered by the powers of this present world, and ob-
jects of sense so much out-weigh those of faith.
And is not
this apparently the case with the christians of the present age?
Do not your thoughts run the same course with theirs, that me-
ditated nothing but sitting on the right and left hand of Christ, in
an earthly dominion, while they never dreamed of drinking of
240
THE BLESSEDNESS
his cup, or being baptized with his baptism? How many vain
dreamers have we of golden mountains, and (I know not what)
earthly felicity; whose pretended prophecies about (a supposed)
near approaching prosperity to the church on earth, gain easier
belief, or are more savoury and taking with too many, than all
that the sacred oracles discover about its glorious state in hea-
ven? Hence are our shoulders so unfitted to Christ's yoke
(like the unaccustomed heifer,) and the business of suffering
will not enter into our hearts. Methinks the belief and expect-
ation of such a state hereafter, should make us even regardless
of what we see or suffer here; and render the good or evil
things of time as indifferent to us. Yet neither plead I for an
absolute social apathy, but for patience. A great follower of
that sect acknowledges, "It is not a virtue to bear what we feel
not, or have no sense of. Stupidity under providence is not a
christian temper;" as that moralist says of the wise man, It is
not the hardness of stone or iron that is to be ascribed to him.”
Sen. de Constant. sapientis. But lest any should run into that
more dangerous mistake, to think, that by the patience we have
been all this while persuading to (in the expectation of the
blessedness yet to come) is meant a love of this present world,
and a complacential adherence of heart to the earth, (which ex-
treme the terrene temper of many souls may much incline them
to;) it will be necessary upon that account to add (in reference
also to the yet future expected season of this blessedness) this
further and concluding instruction, namely,
8. That (however we are not to repine at our being held so
long in this world in an expecting state, yet) we let not our
souls cleave too close to their terrestrial stations, nor be too
much in love with the body, and its present low state of life on
earth. For evident it is, that notwithstanding all the miseries of
this expecting state, the most are yet loth to leave the world, and
have hearts sordidly hankering after present things. And surely
there is much difference between being patient of an abode on
earth, and being fond of it. Therefore since the true blessed-
ness of saints consists in such things as we have shewn, and can-
not be enjoyed till we awake, not within the compass of time
and this lower world; it will be very requisite to insist here
awhile in the prosecution of this last rule. And what I shall say to
it shall be by way of caution, and enforcement.
(1.) For caution that we misapprehend not that temper and
disposition of spirit, we are in this thing to endeavor and aim
at.
And it especially concerns us to be cautious about the in-
ducements, and degree, of that desire of leaving this world, or
contempt of this present life, which we either aspire to, or allow
ourselves in.
[1.] Inducements. Some are desirous, others at least content,
to quit the world upon very insufficient, or indeed wicked con-
siderations.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
241
First. There are, who desire it merely to be out of the way
of present troubles, whereof they have either too impatient a
sense, or an unworthy and impotent fear. Many times the ur-
gency and anguish of incumbent trouble impresses such a sense,
and utters itself in such language as that, Now, O Lord, take I
beseech thee my life from me, for it is better for me to die than
to live. Jonah 4. 3. Or, that, My soul chooseth strangling and
death rather than life: makes men long for death, and dig for
it as for hid treasure; rejoice and be exceeding glad when they
can find the grave, Job 7. 15.
Yea, and the very fear of troubles that are but impendent and
threatening, makes some wish the grave a sanctuary, and ren-
ders the clods of the valley sweet unto their thoughts. They
lay possibly so humorsome and fanciful stress upon the mere cir-
cumstances of dying, that they are earnest to die out of hand to
avoid dying so and so; as the poet would fain persuade himself
it was not Demite naufragium, mors nihi munus erit, Death he
feared not, but shipwreck: it would not trouble them to die, but
to die by a violent hand, (Ovid.) or to be made a public specta-
cle; they cannot endure the thoughts of dying so.
Here is no-
thing commendable or worthy of a christian in all this. It were
a piece of christian bravery to dare to live in such a case, even
when there is a visible likelihood of dying a sacrifice in the midst
of flames. How much this glory was affected in the earlier days
of Christianity is sufficiently known: though, I confess there
were excesses in that kind, altogether unimitable. But if God
call a man forth to be his champion and witness, to lay down a
life, in itself little desirable, in a truly worthy cause, the call of
his providence should be as the sound of the trumpet to a truly
martial spirit; it should fill his soul with a joyful courage and
sense of honor, and be complied with cheerfully, with that ap-
prehension and resentment a stout soldier would have of his
general's putting him upon some very hazardous piece of ser-
vice, namely, he would say, (as the moralist expresses his sense
for him) Imperator de me non male meruit, sed bene judicavit,
my general hath not deserved ill of me, but it appears he judged
well. Sen. It should be counted all joy to fall into such trials;
Jam. 1. 2. that is, when they become our lot by a providential
disposition, not by a rash precipitation of ourselves. And as it
is a wickedness inconsistent with Christianity, to be of that ha-
bitual temper, to choose to desert such a cause for the saving of
life; so it is a weakness very reproachful to it, to lay down one's
life in such a case with regret, as unwilling in this kind to glorify
him who laid down his for us. We are no more to die to our-
selves, than to live to ourselves. Our Lord Jesus hath pur-
chased to himself a dominion over both states, of the living and
dead, and whether we live we must live to him, or die, we must
die to him. Rom. 14. 8. It is the glory of a christian to live so
VOL. I.
31
242
THE BLESSEDNESS
much above the world, that nothing in it may make him either
fond of life, or weary of it.
Secondly. There are others who are (at least) indifferent and
careless how soon they die, out of either a worse than paganish
infidelity, disbelieving the concernments of another world; or
a brutish stupidity, not apprehending them; or a gross conceited
ignorance, misunderstanding terms of the gospel, and thinking
themselves to be in a good condition, as to eternity, when the
case is much otherwise with them. Take heed thy willingness
to die be from no such inducements, but a mere desire of being
with God and of attaining this perfection and blessedness, which
he hath engaged thee in the pursuit and expectation of, and
then, having made sure it be right as to the rise and principle.
[2.] Be careful it be not undue in point of degree; that is, a
cold intermittent velleity is too little on the one hand, and a per-
emptory, precipitant hastiness is too much on the other. The
middle and desirable temper here is a complacential submission
to the divine will in that affair, with a prepondering inclination
on our part, towards our eternal home, if the Lord see good.
For we have two things to attend in this business, and by which
our sprits may be swayed this way or that, that is the goodness
of the object to be chosen, and the will of God which must
guide and over-rule our choice; the former whereof we are
permitted to eye in subordination to the latter and not otherwise.
Now our apprehension of the desirableness and intrinsic good-
ness of the object ought to be such, (we are infidels else, if we
have not that account of it,) that nothing we can eye under the
notion of a good to us, may be reckoned so eligible as that,
namely, our final and complete blessedness in the other world;
which because we know we cannot enjoy without dying, death
also must be judged more eligible than life, that is, our blessed-
ness must be judged eligible for itself, and death as requisite to
make it present. So that the entire object we are discoursing
of being present blessedness, consider it in comparison with any
thing else, that can be looked upon by us as a good which we
ourselves are to enjoy, it ought to be preferred and chosen out
of hand, inasmuch as nothing can be so great a present good to
us, as that. And this ought to be the proper habitual inclination.
of our spirits, their constant frame and bent, as they respect
only our interest and welfare. But considering God's dominion
over us, and interest in our lives and beings, and that as well in-
genuity as necessity binds us to be subject to his pleasure, we
should herein patiently suffer ourselves to be over-ruled there-
by, and not so abstractly mind our own interest and contentment
in this matter, as if we were altogether our own, and had no
Lord over us. Plato (In Phoed. Vid. et Plotin.) who abounds
in discourses of the desirableness of dying, and of the blessed
change it makes with them, that are good, yet hath this apt ex-
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
243
pression of the subjection we ought to be in to the divine plea-
sure as to this matter, regi aywys Enead. 1. "That the soul is in
the body as soldiers in a garrison, from whence they may
not withdraw themselves without his order and direction
who placed them there: and expostulates thus, "If (saith he)
a slave of yours should destroy his own life without your con-
sent, would you not be displeased; and if there had been any
place left for revenge, been apt enough for that too? So he
brings in Socrates discoursing; and discovers himself herein to
have had more light in this matter, touching that subordinate in-
terest only men have in their own lives, and the unlawfulness of
self-murder, (as he had in other things too,) than most heathens
of the more refined sect ever arrived to.
If therefore God would give us leave to die, we should upon
our own account be much more inclined to choose it; but, while
he thinks fit to have it deferred, should yield to his will with an
unrepining submission. Only it ought not to rest at all on our
part, or that as to ourselves we find any thing more grateful to
us in this world, that we are willing to stay a day longer in it.
That for our own sakes we should affect a continuance here,
would argue a terrene, sordid spirit. But then such should be
our dutiful filial love to the Father of our spirits, that in pure
devotedness to his interests, we would be content to dwell (if
he would have it so) a Methuselah's age in an earthly tabernacle.
for his service: that is, that we may help to preserve his me-
morial in a lapsed world, (over-run with atheism and ignorance.
of its Maker,) and win him hearts and love (to our uttermost)
among his apostate, disloyal creatures; and in our capacities be
helpful to the encouragement of such as he continues in the
world for the same purposes. This is the very temper the
apostle expresses when in that strait. Phil. 1. 23. Which way
the poise of his own spirits inclined him, in the consideration of
his own interest, and what was simply more eligible to him, he
expresses with high emphasis; To be with Christ, saith he, is
more, more desirable to be, (for there are two comparatives in
the Greek text,) and therefore he professes his own desire in or-
der thereto, to be dissolved; but that private desire was not so
peremptory and absolute, but he could make it yield and give
place to his duty towards God and his church, as it follows. So
we know it is possible, that respects to a friend may over-sway a
man's own particular inclination; and the inclination remain
notwithstanding, but is subdued only; otherwise, had any rea-
son or argument that did respect myself persuaded me to change
it, I should then follow but my own proper inclination still, and
so my friend hath nothing to thank me for.
So it ought to be with us here. Our inclination should pre-
ponderate towards a present change of our state; only our de-
votedness to his interest and pleasure, whose we are, should ea-
244
THE BLESSEDNESS
1
sily over-rule it. This is the lovely temper of a gracious spirit,
as to this thing, that to die might be our choice, and to live in
the mean time submitted to as our duty. As an ingenuous son
whom his father hath employed abroad in a foreign country,
though duty did bind him cheerfully therein to comply with his
father's will, and the necessity of his affairs; yet, when his fath-
er shall signify to him, that now he understands no necessity of
his longer continuance there, and therefore he may if he please
return, but he shall have leave to follow his own inclination, it
is not hard to conjecture, that the desire of seeing a father's face
would soon determine the choice of such a son that way. But
how remote are the generality of them that profess themselves
God's children from that pious ingenuity! We have taken root
in the earth, and forgotten our heavenly originals and alliances.
We are as inhabitants here, not pilgrims; hardly persuaded to
entertain with any patience the thoughts of leaving our places
on earth; which yet, do we what we can, shall shortly know us
no more. In short then: that vile temper of spirit, against
which I professedly bend myself in the following discourse, is,
when men, not out of any sense of duty towards God, or solici-
tude for their own souls, but a mere sordid love to the body, and
affixedness of heart to the earth and terrene things, cannot en-
dure the thoughts of dying. And that which I persuade to is,
that having the true prospect of the future blessedness before
our eyes, and our hearts possessed with the comfortable hope of
attaining to it, we shake off our earthly inclinations, and expect
with desire and joy the time of our dismission hence, that we
may enjoy it; which is the design of what was promised in the
next place, namely,
(2.) The inforcement of this instruction. Suffer we there-
fore ourselves to be reasoned with about this matter; and let us
consider whether we can in good earnest think such an aversa-
tion, as we discover, to our blessed translation hence, an excusa-
ble, a tolerable temper; or whether it be not highly reasonable,
that we should entertain the thoughts, at least, with more con-
tent and patience (if not with more fervent desire) of our de-
parture hence and introduction into that other state.
Let me
demand of thee, dost thou thus regret the thoughts of death, as
being unwilling to die at all, or as being unwilling to die as yet?
Is it the thing itself, or only the circumstance of time that thou
exceptest against? It is likely thou wilt say that which will seem
more plausible, and so fix only on the latter; and that thou wilt
not profess to desire an eternity on earth, but only more time.
Well, let that for the present be supposed, as it is a more modest,
so to be a true account of thy desires: yet what is the reason of
this moderation with thee herein; and that thou so limitest thy-
self? Is it that thou believest the blessedness of the other will prove
better than any thing thou canst enjoy here; and that thou art
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
245
not willing eternally to be deprived of? But dost thou not think
it is now better also? And what canst thou pretend, why what
is now the best and most desirable good, should not be now
chosen and desired out of hand? Or is it that thou thinkest it
unbecomes thee to cross the supreme will of him that made thee,
who hath determined, that all men once shall die? And then,
how knowest thou but he hath also determined concerning thee,
that thou shall die the next day or hour? and it is only a present
willingness to die, in subordination to the divine will, or upon
supposition of it, thou art persuaded to. Why, art thou not
afraid, lest thy present unwillingness should cross his present
will? Dost thou not think that sovereign power is as sufficient
to determine of the circumstance, as the thing itself? And art
thou not ashamed to pretend an agreement with God about the
thing itself, and yet differ with him about a circumstance? Shall
that be a ground of quarrel between him and thee?
But while thou only professest that more modest desire of
more time in the world, what security canst thou give, that when
that desire hath been liberally gratified, it shall be at length laid
down, and tumultuate no more? What bounds wilt thou fix to it,
which thou darest undertake it shall not pass? Art thou sure,
when thou shalt have lain at the world's breast ten or twenty
years longer, thou wilt then imagine thyself to have drawn it
dry; or that then thou shalt begin to nauseate the world and
wish for heaven? Or hast thou not reason from thy former ex-
perience to suspect, that the longer thou dwellest on earth, the
more terrene thou wilt grow; and that if thou be indisposed to
leave it this day or year, thou wilt be more so the next; and so
thy desire become boundless and infinite, which is to desire to be
here always, the thing which thou seemedst so unwilling to own?
And if that prove at last the true state of thy case, art thou then
a christian, or art thou a man, that thou harborest in thy breast
so irreligious and irrational, yea, so sordid a wish? What! wish
eternally to be affixed to a clod of earth? Is that at length be-
come thy God? Or wilt thou say, he is thy God whom thou nev-
er desirest to enjoy? Or that thou hast already enough of him,
but not of the world, and yet that he is thy God? Or wouldst
thou overturn the laws of nature, and subvert the most sacred
divine constitutions, abortive the designs of eternal wisdom and
love, evacuate and nullify the great achievements of thy merci-
ful and mighty Redeemer, only to gratify a sensual, brutish hu-
mor? But evident it is, thou dost only in vain disquiet thyself,
thou canst not disturb the settled order of things. Eternal laws
are not repealable by a fond wish. Thou settest that dreadful
thing, death, at nothing the further distance, by thine abhorrency
of it. It will overtake thee whether thou wilt or no; and me-
thinks thine own reason should instruct thee to attemper and
form thyself to what thou canst not avoid, and possess thee with
246
THE BLESSEDNESS
such thoughts and desires as those of that discreet pagan,
(Epictet.) "Lead me, O God, (saith he) whither thou wilt, and
I will follow thee willingly; but if I be rebellious and refuse, I
shall follow thee notwithstanding." What we cannot decline, it
is better to bear willingly, than with a regret, that shall be both
vain and afflictive.
And what hast thou hitherto met with in the world, that
should so highly endear it to thee? Examine and search more
narrowly into thy earthly comforts; what is there in them to
make them self-desirable, or to be so for their own sakes? What
is it to have thy flesh indulged and pleased? to have thy sense.
- gratified? thy fancy tickled? What so great good, worthy of an
immortal, reasonable spirit, canst thou find in meats and drinks,
in full barns and coffers, in vulgar fame and applause, that should
render these things desirable for themselves? And if there were
any real felicity in these things for the present, whilst thou art
permitted to enjoy them, yet dost thou not know that what thou
enjoyest to day thou mayst lose to-morrow, and that such other
unthought of evils may befall thee, as may infuse a bitterness in-
to all thou enjoyest, which causes immediately the enjoyment to
cease, while the things themselves remain, and will be equal to
a total loss of all? And thus (as the moralist ingeniously speaks
Sen. de brev. vit.) "thou wilt continually need another happi-
ness to defend the former, and new wishes must still be made on
the behalf of those which have already succeeded. But canst
thou indeed think it worth the while, that the Maker of the uni-
verse should create a soul, and send it down into the world on
purpose to superintend these trivial affairs, to keep alive a silly
piece of well-figured earth while it eats and drinks, to move it
to and fro in chase of shadows, to hold it up while others bow
the knee and do it homage, if it had not some higher work to
mind in reference to another state? Art thou contented to live
Iong in the world to such purposes? What low worthless spirit
is this, that had rather be so employed than in the visions of his
Maker's face; that chooses thus to entertain itself on earth, ra-
ther than partake the effusions of divine glory above; that had
rather creep with worms than soar with angels: associate with
brutes than with the spirits of just men made perfect? Who can
solve the phænomenon, or give a rational account why there
should be such a creature as man upon the earth, abstracting
from the hopes of another world? Who can think it the effect of
an infinite wisdom; or account it a more worthy design, than the
representing of such a scene of actions and affairs by puppets on
a stage? For my part, upon the strictest inquiry, I see nothing in
the life of man upon earth, that should render it, for itself, more
the matter of a rational election (supposing the free option giv-
en him in the first moment of his being) than presently again to
cease to be the next moment.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
247
Yea, and is there not enough obvious in every man's experi-
ence, to incline him rather to the contrary choice; and suppos-
ing a future blessedness in another world, to make him passion-
ately desirous (with submission to the divine pleasure) of a
speedy dismission into it? Do not the burdens that press us in
this earthly tabernacle teach our very sense, and urge oppressed
natures into involuntary groans, while as yet our consideration
doth not intervene? And if we do consider, Is not every thought
a sting, making a much deeper impression than what only touch-
eth our flesh and bones? Who can reflect upon his present state
and not presently be in pangs? The troubles that follow human-
ity are many and great, those that follow Christianity more nu-
merous and grievous. The sickness, pains, losses, disappoint-
ments, and whatsoever afflictions that are in the apostle's lan-
guage, human, or common to men, (1 Cor. 10. 13.) (as are all
the external sufferings of christians, in nature and kind, though
they are liable to them upon an account peculiar to them-
selves, which there the apostle intimates,) are none of our great-
est evils; yet even upon the account of them, have we any rea-
son to be so much in love with so unkind a world? Is it not
strange, our very bridewell should be such a heaven to us? But
these things are little considerable in comparison of the more
spiritual grievances of christians, as such; that is, those that af-
flict our souls while we are (under the conduct of Christ) de-
signing for a blessed eternity; if we indeed make that our busi-
ness, and do seriously intend our spirits in order thereto.
darkness of our beclouded minds; the glimmering, ineffectual
apprehension we have of the most important things; the incon-
sistency of our shattered thoughts, when we would apply them
to spiritual objects; the great difficulty of working off an ill
frame of heart, and the no less difficulty of retaining a good:
our being so frequently tossed as between heaven and hell;
when we sometimes think ourselves to have even attained and
hope to descend no more, and are all on a sudden plunged in the
ditch, so as that our own clothes might abhor us; fall so low into
an earthly temper, that we can like nothing heavenly or divine,
and because we cannot, are enforced justly most of all to dislike
ourselves! are these things little with us? How can we forbear
to cry out of the depths, to the Father of our spirits, that he
would pity and relieve his own offspring? Yea, are we not wea-
ry of our crying; and yet more weary of holding in? How do
repelled temptations return again, and vanquished corruptions
recover strength! We know not when our work is done. We
are miserable that we need to be always watching, and more mis-
erable that we cannot watch, but are so often surprised and over-
come of evil. We say sometimes with ourselves, we will seek
relief in retirement; but we cannot retire from ourselves; or in
converse with godly friends, but they sometimes prove snares to
The
248
THE BLESSEDNESS
us and we to them, or we hear but our own miseries repeated in
their complaints. Would we pray? How faint is the breath we
utter? How long is it before we can get our souls possessed with
any becoming apprehensions of God, or lively sense of our own
concernments? Would we meditate? We sometimes go about to
compose our thoughts, but we may as well assay to hold the winds
in our fist. If we venture forth into the world, how do our
senses betray us? how are we mocked with their impostures?
Their nearer objects become with us the only realities, and
eternal things are all vanished into airy shadows. Reason and
faith are laid asleep, and our sense dictates to us what we are to
believe and do, as if it were our only guide and lord. And what
are we not yet weary? Is it reasonable to continue in this state
of our own choice? Is misery become so natural to us, so much
our element that we cannot affect to live out of it? Is the dark-
ness and dirt of a dungeon more grateful to us than a free open
air and sun? Is this flesh of ours so lovely a thing, that we had
rather suffer so many deaths in it, than one in putting it off and
mortality with it? While we carry it about us, our souls impart
a kind of life to it, and it gives them death in exchange. Why
do we not cry out more feelingly, "O wretched man that I am,
who shall deliver me from this body of death?" Is it not griev-
ous to us to have so cumbersome a yoke-fellow, to be tied (as
Mezentius is said to have done) the living and the dead togeth-
er? Do we not find the distempers of our spirits are mostly from
these bodies we are so in love with, either as the proper springs
or as the occasion of them? From what cause is our drowsy
sloth, our eager passions, our aversion to spiritual objects, but,
from this impure flesh; or what else is the subject about which
our vexatious cares, or torturing fears, our bitter griefs are taken
up day by day?
And why do not we consider, that it is only our love to it
that gives strength and vigor to the most of our temptations, as
wherein it is most immediately concerned, and which makes
them so often victorious, and thence to become our after-afflic-
tions? He that hath learned to mortify the inordinate love of
the body, will he make it the business of his life to purvey for
it? Will he offer violence to his own soul, to secure it from
violence? Will he comply with men's lusts and humors for its
advantage and accommodation: or yield himself to the tyranny
of his own avarice for its future, or of his more sensual lusts for
its present content? Will it not rather be pleasing to him, that
his outward man be exposed to perish, while his inward man is
renewed day by day? He to whom the thoughts are grateful
of laying it down, will not (though he neglect not duty towards
it) spend his days in its continual service, and make his soul a
hell by a continual provision for the flesh and the lusts of it.
That is cruel love that shall enslave a man, and subject him to
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
249
so vile and ignoble a servitude. And it discovers a sordid tem-
that
per to be so imposed upon. How low are our spirits sunk,
we disdain not so base a vassalage! God and nature have obli-
ged us to live in bodies for a time, but they have not obliged us
to measure ourselves by them, to confine our desires and designs
to their compass, to look no further than their concernments, to
entertain no previous joys in the hope of being one day deliver-
ed from them. No such hard law is laid upon us. But how apt
are we to become herein a most oppressive law to ourselves;
and not only to lodge in filthy, earthern cottages, but to love
them and confine ourselves to them, loth so much as to peep
out. It is the apt expression of a philosopher, upbraiding that
base, low temper, Ἡ δὲ δειλὴ ψυχὴ κατορωρυγμένη ἐν σώματι, ὡς ἕρπετον
νοθὲς εἰς φωλεὸν, φιλεῖ τὸν φωλεόν, &c. the degenerous soul buried in
the body, is as a slothful, creeping thing, that loves its hole and
is loth to come forth. Max. Tyr. Diss. 41.
And methinks, if we have no love for our better and more no-
ble self, we should not be altogether unapprehensive of an ob-
ligation upon us, to express a dutiful love to the Author of our
beings; doth it consist with the love we owe to him, to desire
always to lurk in the dark, and never to come into his blessed
presence? Is that our love, that we never care to come nigh
him? Do we not know, that while we are present in the body,
we are absent from the Lord? 2 Cor. 5. 6. 8. Should we not
therefore be willing rather to be present with the Lord, and ab-
sent from the body? Should we not put on a confidence, a holy
fortitude, (as it is there expressed, we are confident, or of good
courage, and thence, willing, &c.) that might carry us through
the grave to him. As is the brave speech of that last mentioned
philosopher, Aλòç ödügerai, God will call thee cre long, expect his
call. Old age will come upon thee, and shew thee the way thi-
ther; and death, which he that is possessed with a base fear,
laments and dreads as it draws on, but he that is a lover of God
expects it with joy, and with courage meets it when it comes.
&c. Item. diss. 1. Is our love to God so faint and weak, that it
dares not encounter death, nor venture upon the imaginary ter-
rors of the grave to go to him? How unsuitable is this to the
character which is given of a saint's love? Cant. 8. And how
expressly are we told, that he who loves his life better than
Christ, or that even hates it not for his sake, (as certainly he
cannot be said to do, that is not willing to part with it to enjoy
him) cannot be his disciple? If our love to God be not supreme
it is none, or not such as can denominate us lovers of him; and
will we pretend to be so, when we love a putrid flesh and this
base earth better than him? And have we not professedly, as a
fruit of our avowed love to him, surrendered ourselves? Are
we not his devoted ones? Will we be his, and yet our own? or
pretend ourselves dedicated to his holy pleasure, and will yet be
VOL. I.
32
250
THE BLESSEDNESS
at our own disposal, and so dispose of ourselves too, as that we
may be most ungrateful to him, and most uncapable of converse
with him? How doth this love of a perishing life and of a little
animated clay stop all the effusions of the love of God, suspend
its sweet and pleasant fruits, which should be always exerting
themselves towards him? Where is their love, obedience, joy,
and praise, who are through the fear of death all their lives sub-
ject to bondage, and kept under a continual dismal expectation
of an unavoidable dissolution? But must the great God lose his
due acknowledgments because we will not understand wherein
he deals well with us? Is his mercy therefore no mercy? As
we cannot nullify his truth by our unbelief, so nor his goodness
by our disesteem. But yet consider, doth it not better become
thee to be grateful than repine that God will one day unbind
thy soul and set thee free, knock off thy fetters and deliver thee
out of the house of thy bondage; couldst thou upon deliberate
thoughts judge it tolerable, should he doom thee to this earth for-
ever? (as the pagan emperor and philosopher excellently speaks
M. Aurel. Ant. de vit. sua. 1. 12. amidi inέws & äπoλúwv ¡héws He
hath however judged otherwise, who is the author both of the
first composition of thy present being and now of the dissolu-
tion of it; thou wert the cause of neither, therefore depart and
be thankful, for he that dismisseth thee dealeth kindly with thee.
If yet thou understandest it not, yet remember, it is thy Father
that disposes thus of thee. How unworthy is it to distrust his
love? what child would be afraid to compose itself to sleep in
the parent's bosom? It expresses nothing of the duty and in-
genuity, but much of the frowardness and folly of a child: they
sometimes cry vehemently in the undressing; but should their
cries be regarded by the most indulgent parent? or are they fit
to be imitated by us?
We have no excuse for this our frowardness. The blessed
God hath told us his gracious purposes concerning us, and we
are capable of understanding him. What if he had totally hid-
den from us our future state? and that we knew nothing, but
of going into an eternal, silent darkness? the authority of a
Creator ought to have awed us into a silent submission. But
when we are told of such a glory, that it is but drawing aside
the fleshly vail and we presently behold it, methinks the blessed
hour should be expected not with patience only, but with ra-
vishing joy. Did we hear of a country in this world, where we
might live in continual felicity, without toil, or sickness, or grief,
or fear, who would not wish to be there, though the passage
were troublesome? Have we not heard enough of heaven to
allure us thither? Or is the eternal truth, of suspected credit
with us? Are God's own reports of the future glory unworthy
our belief or regard? How many, upon the credit of his word,
are gone already triumphantly into glory? that only seeing the
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
251
promises afar off, were persuaded of them, and embraced them ;
and never after, owned themselves under any other notion than
of pilgrims on earth, longing to be at home in their most desira-
ble, heavenly country. We are not the first that are to open
heaven; the main body of saints is already there; it is in com-
parison of their number, but a scattering remnant, that are now
alive upon the earth. How should we long to be associated to that
glorious assembly? Methinks we should much more regret our
being so long left behind.
But if we should desire still to be so, why may not all others
as well as we, and as much expect to be gratified as we? And
then we should agree in desiring, that our Redeemer's triumph
might de deferred, that his body might yet remain incomplete,
that he might still be debarred of the long expected fruit of the
travail of his soul, that the name of God might be still subjected
to the blasphemy and reproach of an atheistical world, who have
all along said with derision, Where is the promise of his coming?
Would we have all his designs to be still unfinished; and so the
mighty wheels stand still for us, while we sport ourselves in the
dust of the earth, and indulge our sensual inclination, which
sure this bold desire must argue to be very predominant in us;
and take heed it argue not its habitual prevalency. At least, if
it discover not our present sensuality, it discovers our former
sloth and idleness. It may be, we may excuse our averseness
to die by our unpreparedness, that is, one fault with another :
though that be besides the case I am speaking of. What then
have we been doing all this while? What! were the affairs of
thy soul not thought of till now? Take then thy reproof from
a heathen, (Sen.) that it may convince thee the more, "No one,
saith he, divides away his money from himself, but yet men di-
vide away their very life-But doth it not shame thee (he after
adds) to reserve only the relics of thy life to thyself, and to de-
vote that time only to a good mind which thou canst employ
upon no other thing? How late is it to begin to live when we
should make an end; and defer all good thoughts to such an age
as possibly few do ever reach to. The truth is (as he speaks)
we have not little time but we lose much, we have time enough
were it well employed, therefore we cannot say we receive a
short life, but we make it so, we are not indigent of time but
prodigal what a pretty contradiction is it to complain of the
shortness of time, and yet do what we can to precipitate its
course; to hasten it by what we call pastime? If it have been
so with thee, art thou to be trusted with more time?" But as
thy case is, I cannot wonder that the thoughts of death be most
unwelcome to thee; who art thou that thou shouldst desire the
day of the Lord? I can only say to thee, hasten thy prepara-
tion, have recourse to rule second, and third, and accordingly
guide thyself till thou find thy spirit made more suitable to this
252
THE BLESSEDNESS
1
blessedness; that it become savory and grateful to thy soul, and
thy heart be set upon it. Hence thou mayst be reconciled to
the grave, and the thoughts of death may cease to be a terror
to thee.
ment.
And when thou art attained so far, consider thy great advan-
tage in being willing and desirous to die upon this further ac-
count, That thy desire shall now be pitched upon a thing so cer-
tain. Thine other desires have met with many a disappoint-
Thou hast set thy heart upon other things, and they
have deceived thy most earnest, thirsty expectations. Death
will not do so. Thou wilt now have one certain hope; one
thing in reference whereto thou may say, "I am sure.' "" Wait
awhile, this peaceful sleep will shortly seize thy body and awa-
ken thy soul. It will calmly period all thy troubles, and bring
thee to a blessed rest. But now, if only the mere terror and
gloominess of dying, trouble thy thoughts, this of all other seems
the most inconsiderable pretence against a willing surrender of
ourselves to death. Reason hath overcome it, natural courage,
yea, some men's atheism; Shall not faith? Are we not ashamed
to consider, what confidence and desire of death some heathens
have expressed? Some that have had no pre-apprehension or
belief of another state (though there were very few of them,)
and so no hope of a consequent blessedness to relieve them,
have yet thought it unreasonable to disgust the thoughts of
death. What wouldst thou think if thou hadst nothing but
the sophisms of such to oppose to all thy dismal thoughts? I
have met with one arguing thus, (Epicurus in Gassend. Synt.)
"Death which is accounted the most dreadful of all evils, is
nothing to us (saith he) because while we are in being, death is
not yet present, and when death is present we are not in being;
so that it neither concerns us, as living, nor dead; for while we
are alive it hath not touched us, when we are dead we are not.-
Moreover (saith he) the exquisite knowledge of this, that death
belongs not to us, makes us enjoy this mortal life with comfort;
not by adding any thing to our uncertain time, but by taking
away the desire of immortality." Shall they comfort themselves
upon so wretched a ground, with a little sophistry, and the
hope of extinguishing all desire of immortality; and shall not
we, by cherishing this blessed hope of enjoying shortly an im-
mortal glory?
Others of them have spoken magnificently of a certain con-
tempt of this bodily life, and a not only not fearing but desiring
to die, upon a fixed apprehension of the distinct and purer im-
mortal nature of the soul, and the preconceived hope of a con-
sequent felicity. I shall set down some of their words, added to
what have been occasionally mentioned, (amongst that plentiful
variety wherewith one might fill a volume,) purposely to shame
the more terrene temper of many christians.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
253
"The soul (saith one of them*) is an invisible thing, and is
going into another place, suitable to itself, that is noble, and pure,
and invisible, even into hades, indeed, to the good and wise God,
whither also my soul shall shortly go, if he see good. But this
(he saith in what follows) belongs only to such a soul as goes
out of the body pure, that draws nothing corporeal along with it,
did not willingly communicate with the body in life, but did even
fly from it and gather up itself into itself, always meditating this
one thing. A soul so affected, shall it not go to something like
itself, divine, (and what is divine, is immortal and wise,) whith-
er when it comes, it becomes blessed, free from error, ignorance,
fears, and wild or enormous loves, and all other evils incident to
men."
† One writing the life of that rare person, Plotinus, says, That
he seemed as if he were in some sort ashamed that he was in
body; which (however it would less become a christian, yet) in
one that knew nothing of an incarnate Redeemer, it discovered
a refined, noble spirit. The same person speaks almost the lan-
guage of the apostle, concerning his being wrapt up into the
third heaven, and tells of such an alienation of the soul from the
body: "That when once it finds God (whom he had before been
speaking of under the name of the rò xaλòv or the beauty) shin-
ing in upon it, it now no longer feels its body, or takes notice
of its being in the body, but even forgets its own being, that it
is a man, or a living creature, or any thing else whatsoever, for
it is not at leisure to mind any thing else, nor doth it desire to
be: yea, and having sought him out, he immediately meets it
presenting itself to him. It only views him instead of itself,-
and would not now change its state for any thing, not if one
could give it the whole heaven in exchange."
"And elsewhere discussing, whether life in the body be good
and desirable, yea or no, he concludes it to be good, not as it is a
union of the soul and body, but as it may have that virtue an-
nexed to it, by which what is really evil may be kept off. But
yet that death is a greater good that life in the body is in itself
evil; but the soul is by virtue stated in goodness; not as en-
livening the body with which it is compounded, but as it severs
and sejoins itself from it; meaning so, as to have as little com-
munion as possibly it can with it." To which purpose is the
*Plato in Phedone, From whom I adjoin what (to them that understand it)
is more elegant in his own language, "oν ίδης 'αγανακτώντα μέλλοντα απο-
θανεῖσθαι ουκ αρα φιλόσοφος αλλά τις φιλοσωματος. Ibid. Αγρί
ov ¿ow'twr, if you see any one overwhelmed with grief in the approach of
ων ερωτων,
death, he is not a philosopher, but a lover of his own body.
+ Porphyrius. Plotinus Enead. 7. Lib. 6. (whom though a just admirer of
him would fain have men reckon to have been a christian, because he writes
much against the Pseudo-Christian gnostics, nothing against christianity, yet
it appears not he ever made profession of it. Enead. 1. lib. 7.)
254
THE BLESSEDNESS
expression of another: "That the soul of a happy man so col-
lects and gathers up itself out from the body while it is yet con-
tained in it—and that it was possessed of that fortitude, as not to
dread its departure from it." Marin. Proclus.
Another gives this character of a good man, "That as he liv-
ed in simplicity, tranquillity, purity, not being offended at any
that they believed him not to live so; he also comes to the end
of his life, pure, quiet, and easy to be dissolved, disposing him-
self without any constraint to his lot." EÚλUTOS. M. Aur. Ant.
Another is brought in speaking thus. "If God should grant me
to become a child again, (Cato in Cicerone de Senect.) to send
forth my renewed infant cries from my cradle, and having even
run out my race, to begin it again, I should most earnestly re-
fuse it; for what profit hath this life? and how much toil?—Yet
I do not repent that I have lived, because I hope that I have not
lived in vain. And now I go out of this life, not as out of my
dwelling-house, but my inn. O blessed day! when I shall enter
into that council and assembly of souls, and depart from this rude
and disorderly rout and crew, &c."
I shall add another, (of a not much unlike strain and rank, as
either being not an open, or no constant friend to Christianity,)
that discoursing who is the heir of divine things, saith, "He
cannot be, who is in love with this animal, sensitive life; but
only that purest mind that is inspired from above, that partakes
of a heavenly and divine portion, that only despises the body,
&c." with much more of like import. Philo. Judæus.
Yea, so have some been transported with the desire of im-
mortality, that (being wholly ignorant of the sin of self-murder,)
they could not forbear doing violence on themselves. Among
the Indians, (Q. Curt. lib. 8.) two thousand years ago, were a
sort of wise men, as they were called, that held it a reproach to
die of age, or a disease, and were wont to burn themselves alive,
thinking the flames were polluted if they came amidst them dead.
The story of *Cleombrotus is famous, who hearing Plato dis-
course of the immortality of the soul, by the sea-side, leaped
from him into the sea, that he might presently be in that state.
And it is storied, that † Nero refused to put Apollonius to death,
though he were very much incensed against him, only upon the
apprehensions he had that he was very desirous to die, because
he would not so far gratify him.
I only make this improvement of all this; Christian princi-
ples and rules, do neither hurry nor misguide men, but the end
(as we have it revealed) should much more powerfully and con-
stantly attract us. Nothing is more unsuitable to Christianity our
*Cicer. Quæst, Tuscul.
+ Scil. Domitianus aliquoties sic dictus. Philostr. in vit. Apoll. Tyanæi.
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
255
way, nor to that blessedness the end of it, than a terrene spirit.
They have nothing of the true light and impress of the gospel
now, nor are they ever like to attain the vision of the blessed
face of God, and the impress of his likeness hereafter, that de-
sire it not above all things, and are not willing to quit all things
else for it. And is it not a just exprobration of our earthliness
and carnality, if mere philosophers and pagans should give better
proof than we of a spirit erected above the world, and alienated
from what is temporary and terrene? Shall their gentileism out-
vie our Christianity? Methinks a generous indignation of this
reproach should inflame our souls, and contribute somewhat to
the refining of them to a better and more spiritual temper.
Now therefore, O all you that name yourselves by that wor-
thy name of christians, that profess the religion taught by him
that was not of the earth, earthly, but the Lord from heaven;
you that are partakers of the heavenly calling, consider the great
Apostle and High-Priest of your profession, who only took our
flesh that we might partake of his Spirit, bore our earthly, that
we might bear his heavenly image, descended that he might
cause us to ascend. Seriously bethink youselves of the scope
and end of his apostleship and priesthood. He was sent out
from God to invite and conduct you to him, to bring you into the
communion of his glory and blessedness. He came upon a mes-
sage and treaty of peace: to discover his Father's love and win
yours to let you know how kind thoughts the God of love had
conceived to you-wards; and that, however you had hated him
without cause, and were bent to do so without end, he was not
so affected towards you to settle a friendship, and to admit you
to the participation of his glory. Yea, he came to give an in-
stance, and exemplify, to the world in his own person, how much
of heaven he could make to dwell in mortal flesh; how possible
he could render it, to live in this world as unrelated to it; how
gloriously the divine life could triumph over all the infirmities of
frail humanity. And so leave men a certain proof and pledge,
to what perfections human nature should be improved by his
grace and Spirit, in all them that should resign themselves to his
conduct, and follow his steps: that heaven and earth were not so
far asunder, but he knew how to settle a commerce and inter-
course between them: that a heavenly life was possible to be
transacted here, and certain to be gloriously rewarded and per-
fected hereafter.
And having testified these things, he seals the testimony and
opens the way for the accomplishment of all by his death. Your
heavenly Apostle becomes a Priest and a Sacrifice at once that
no doubt might remain among men of his sincerity, in what even
dying he ceased not to profess and avow. And that by his own
propitiatory blood and mutual reconciliation might be wrought
between God and you: that your hearts might be won to him,
256
THE BLESSEDNESS
and possessed with an ingenuous shame of your ever having been
his enemies. And that his displeasure might for ever cease
towards you, and be turned into everlasting friendship and love:
that eternal redemption being obtained, heaven might be opened
to you, and you finally be received to the glory of God; your
hearts being bent thitherward and made willing to run through
whatsoever difficulties of life or death to attain it. Do not think
that Christ came into the world and died to procure the pardon
of your sins, and so translate you to heaven; while your hearts
should still remain cleaving to the earth. He came and returned
to prepare a way for you; and then call, not drag you thither :
that by his precepts, and promises, and example, and Spirit, he
might form and fashion your souls to that glorious state; and
make you willing to abandon all things for it. And lo! now the
God of all grace is calling you by Jesus Christ unto his eternal
glory. Direct then your eyes and hearts to that mark, the prize
of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. It is ignominious,
by the common suffrage of the civilized world, not to intend the
proper business of our calling. It is your calling to forsake this
world and mind the other; make haste then to quit yourselves
of your entanglements, of all earthly dispositions and affections.
Learn to live in this world as those that are not of it, that expect
every day, and wish to leave it, whose hearts are gone already.
It is dreadful to die with pain and regret: to be forced out of
the body; to die a violent death, and to go away with an un-
willing reluctant heart. The wicked is driven away in his wick-
edness. Fain he would stay longer, but cannot. He hath not
power over the spirit, to retain the spirit, nor hath he power in
death. He must away whether he will or no. And indeed
much against his will. So it cannot but be, where there is not
a previous knowledge and love of a better state, where the soul
understands it not, and is not effectually attempered and framed
to it.
O get then the lovely image of the future glory into your
minds. Keep it ever before your eyes. Make it familiar to
your thoughts. Imprint daily there these words, I shall behold
thy face, I shall be satisfied with thy likeness. And see that your
souls be enriched with that righteousness, have inwrought into
them that holy rectitude, that may dispose them to that blessed
state. Then will you die with your own consent, and go away,
not driven, but allured and drawn. You will go, as the redeem-
ed of the Lord, with everlasting joy upon their heads: as those
that know whither you go, even to a state infinitely worthy of
your desires and choice, and where it is best for you to be. You
will part with your souls, not by a forcible separation, but a joy-
ful surrender and resignation. They will dislodge from this
earthly tabernacle, rather as putting it off than having it rent
and torn away. Loosen yourselves from this body by degrees,
OF THE RIGHTEOUS.
257
as we do any thing we would remove from a place where it sticks
fast. Gather up your spirits into themselves. Teach them to
look upon themselves as a distinct thing. Inure them to the
thoughts of a dissolution. Be continually as taking leave. Cross
and disprove the common maxim, and let your hearts, which
they use to say are wont to die last, die first. Prevent death,
and be mortified towards every earthly thing beforehand, that
death may have nothing to kill but your body; and that you
may not die a double death in one hour, and suffer the death of
your body and of your love to it both at once. Much less that
this should survive to your greater, and even incurable misery.
Shake off your bands and fetters, the terrene affections that so
closely confine you to the house of your bondage. And lift up
your heads in expectation of the approaching jubilee, the day of
your redemption; when you are to go out free, and enter into
the glorious liberty of the sons of God; when you shall serve,
and groan, and complain no longer. Let it be your continual
song, and matter of your daily praise, that the time of your hap-
py deliverance is hastening on; that ere long you shall be absent
from the body, and present with the Lord. That he hath not
doomed you to an everlasting imprisonment within those close
and clayey walls, wherein, you have been so long shut up from
the beholding of his sight and glory. In the thoughts of this,
while the outward man is sensibly perishing, let the inward re-
vive and be renewed day by day. "What prisoner would be
sorry to see the walls of his prison house (so a heathen speaks,
Max. Tyr. Dissert. 41.) mouldering down, and the hopes arriv-
ing to him of being delivered out of that darkness that had bu-
ried him, of recovering his liberty, and enjoying the free air and
light. What champion inured to hardship, would stick to throw
off rotten rags, and rather expose a naked, placid, free body, to
naked, placid, free air? The truly generous soul (so he a little
above)" never leaves the body against its will." Rejoice that
it is the gracious pleasure of thy good God, thou shalt not always
inhabit a dungeon, nor lie amidst so impure and disconsolate
darkness? that he will shortly exchange thy filthy garments for
those of salvation and praise. The end approaches. As you
turn over these leaves, so are your days turned over.
you are now arrived to the end of this book, God will shortly
write finis to the book of your life on earth, and shew you your
name, written in heaven, in the book of that life which shall
never end.
And as
VOL. I.
33
!
THE
VANITY
OF THIS
MORTAL LIFE:
OR,
OF MAN,
CONSIDERED ONLY IN HIS
PRESENT MORTAL STATE.
TO THE
DESERVEDLY HONORED,
JOHN UPTON, OF LUPTON, ESQ.
WITH THE MANY
SURVIVING BRANCHES
FORMERLY SPRUNG OUT OF THAT RELIGIOUS FAMILY, AND
THE WORTHY CONSORTS
OF ANY OF THEM.
Since it is the lot of the following pages to be exposed to pub-
lic view; there is somewhat of justice in it, to yourselves or me,
that the world do also know wherein divers of you have con-
tributed thereto that if any thing redound hence to public ad-
vantage, it may be understood to be owing in part to you; or, if
it shall be reckoned a useless trouble, in this way to represent
things, so obvious to common notice, and whereof so much is
already said, all the blame to the publication be not imputed (as
it doth not belong) to me only. But I must here crave your ex-
cuse, that, on this account, give you a narrative of what (for the
most part) you already know and may possibly not delight to re-
member; both because it is now become convenient that others
should know it too, and not necessary to be put into a distinct
preface! and because to yourselves the review of those less
pleasing passages may be attended with a fruit which may be
some recompence for their want of pleasure.
Therefore give the reader leave to take notice, and let it not be
grievous to you that I remind you, that after this your near rela-
tion* (whose death gave the occasion of the ensuing meditations)
had from his youth lived between twenty and thirty years of his
age in Spain, your joint-importunity had at length obtained from
him a promise of returning; whereof, when you were in some-
what a near expectation a sudden disease in so few days landed
him in another world, that the first notice you had of his death or
sickness, was by the arrival of that vessel (clad in mourning-at-
tire,) which, according to his own desire in his sickness, brought
*Mr. Anthony Upton, the son of Johu Upton, of Lupton. Esq.
262
THE EPISTLE
over the deserted body to its native place of Lupton; that
thence it might find a grave, where it first received a soul; and
obtain a mansion in the earth, where first it became one to a
reasonable spirit. A little before this time, the desire of an in-
terview among yourselves (which the distance of your habita-
tions permitted not to be frequent) had induced divers of you to
appoint a meeting at some middle place, whereby the trouble of
a long journey might be conveniently shared among you. But,
before that agreed resolution could have its accomplishment, this
sad and most unexpected event intervening, altered the place,
the occasion, and design of your meeting; but effected the thing
itself, and brought together no less than twenty, the brothers
and sisters of the deceased, or their consorts; besides his many
nephews and nieces and other relations, to the mournful solem-
nity of the interment. Within the time of our being together
upon this sad account, this passage of the Psalmist here insisted
on, came into discourse among us; being introduced by an oc-
casion, which (though then, it may be unknown to the most of
you) was somewhat rare, and not unworthy observation; name-
ly, that one of yourselves having been some time before surpris-
ed with an unusual sadness, joined with an expectation of ill
tidings, upon no known cause, had so urgent an inculcation of
those words, as not to be able to forbear the revolving them
much of the former part of that day, in the latter part whereof
the first notice was brought to that place of this so near a re-
lation's decease.
Certain months after, some of you with whom I was then con-
versant in London, importuned me to have somewhat from me
in writing upon that subject. Whereto 1 at length agreed, with
a cautionary request, that it might not come into many hands,
but might remain (as the occasion was) among yourselves. Nor
will I deny it to have been some inducement to me to apply my
thoughts to that theme, that it had been so suggested as was said.
For such presages and bodings, as that above-mentioned, may
reasonably be thought to owe themselves to some more steady
and universal principle than casualty, or the party's own imagin-
ation: by whose more noble recommendation (that such a gloomy
premonition might carry with it not what should only afflict, but
also instruct and teach) this subject did seem offered to our med-
itation. Accordingly therefore, after my return to the place of
my abode, I hastily drew up the substance of the following dis-
course; which, a year ago, I transmitted into their hands who
desired it from me, without reserving to myself any copy. Here-
by it became difficult to me, presently to comply (besides divers
considerations I might have against the thing itself) with that
joint request of some of you (in a letter, which my removal into
another kingdom occasioned to come long after to my hands)
that I would consent these papers might be made public. For
DEDICATORY.
263
as I have reason to be conscious to myself of disadvantages
enough to discourage any undertaking of that kind; so I am
more especially sensible, that so cursory and superficial a man-
agement of a subject so important (though its private occasion
and design at first might render it excusable to those few friends
for whom it was meant) cannot but be liable to the hard censure
(not to say contempt) of many whom discourses of this kind
should more designedly serve. And therefore, though my will-
ingness to be serviceable in keeping alive the apprehension and
expectation of another state, my value of your judgments who
conceive what is here done may be useful thereto, and my pecu-
liar respects to yourselves, the members and appendants of a
family to which (besides some relation) I have many obligations
and endearments, do prevail with me not wholly to deny; yet
pardon me that I have suspended my consent to this publication,
till I should have a copy transmitted to me from some of you, for
my necessary review of so hasty a production, that I might not
offer to the view of the world, what, after I had penned it, had
scarce passed my own. And now, after so long an expectation,
those papers are but this last week come to my hands: I here
return them with little or no alteration; save, that what did
more directly concern the occasion, towards the close is transfer-
red hither; but with the addition of almost all the directive part
of the use which I submit together to your pleasure and dis-
posal.
And I shall now take the liberty to add, my design in consent-
ing to this request of yours (and I hope the same of your mak-
ing it) is not to erect a monument to the memory of the deceas-
ed, (which how little doth it signify!) nor to spread the fame of
your family, (though the visible blessing of God upon it, in the
fruitfulness, piety, and mutual love, wherein it hath flourished
for some generations, do challenge observation, both as to those
branches of it which grow in their own more natural soil, and
those, as I have now occasion to take further notice, that I find
to have been transplanted into another country;) but that such
into whose hands this little treatise shall fall, may be induced to
consider the true end of their beings; to examine and discuss
the matter more thoroughly with themselves, what it may or can
be supposed such a sort of creatures was made and placed on
this earth for that when they shall have reasoned themselves
into a settled apprehension of the worthy and important ends
they are capable of attaining, and are visibly designed to, they
may be seized with a noble disdain of living beneath themselves
and the bounty of their Creator.
It is obvious to common observation, how flagrant and intense
a zeal men are often wont to express for their personal reputa-
tion, the honor of their families, yea, or for the glory of their
nation but how few are acted by that more laudable and en-
264
THE EPISTLE
larged zeal for the dignity of mankind! How few are they that
resent the common and vile depression of their own species ?
Or that, while in things of lightest consideration they strive with
emulous endeavor, that they and their relatives may excel other
men, do reckon it a reproach if in matters of the greatest conse-
quence they and all men should not excel beasts? How few that
are not contented to confine their utmost designs and expecta-
tions within the same narrow limits? through a mean and inglo-
rious self-despiciency confessing in themselves (to the truth's
and their own wrong) an incapacity of greater things; and with
most injurious falsehood, proclaiming the same of all mankind
besides.
If he, that amidst the hazards of a dubious war betrays the in-
terest and honor of his country be justly infamous, and thought
worthy severest punishment; I see not why a debauched sensu-
alist, that lives as if he were created only to indulge his appe-
tite; that so vilifies the notion of man, as if he were made but
to eat and drink, and sport, to please only his sense and fancy;
that in this time and state of conflict between the powers of this
present world, and those of the world to come, quits his party,
bids open defiance to humanity, abjures the noble principles and
ends, forsakes the laws and society of all that are worthy to be
esteemed men, abandons the common and rational hope of man-
kind concerning a future immortality, and herds himself among
brute creatures, I say, I see not why such a one should not be
scorned and abhorred as a traitor to the whole race and nation of
reasonable creatures, as a fugitive from the tents, and deserter
of the common interest of men; and that, both for the vileness
of his practice, and the danger of his example.
And who, that hath open eyes, beholds not the dreadful in-
stances and increase of this defection? When it hath prevailed
to that degree already, that in civilized, yea, in Christian coun-
tries, (as they yet affect to be called) the practice is become
fashionable and in credit, which can square with no other princi-
ple than the disbelief of a future state, as if it were but a mere
poetic or (at best) a political fiction. And, as if so impudent
infidelity would pretend not to a connivance only but a sanction,
it is reckoned an odd and uncouth thing for a man to live as if
he thought otherwise; and a great presumption to seem to dis-
sent from the profane infidel crew. As if the matter were al-
ready formally determined in the behalf of irreligion, and the
doctrine of the life to come had been clearly condemned in open
council as a detestable heresy. For what tenet was ever more
exploded and hooted at, than that practice is which alone agrees
with this? Or what series or course of repeated villainies can
ever be more ignominious than (in vulgár estimate) a course of
life so transacted as doth become the expectation of a blessed
immortality? And what, after so much written and spoken by
DEDICATORY.
265
persons of all times and religions for the immortality of the hu-
man soul and so common an acknowledgment thereof by Pagans,
Mahometans, Jews, and Christians, is man now at last condem-
ned and doomed to a perpetual death, as it were, by the consent
and suffrage even of men; and that too without trial or hearing;
and not by the reason of men, but their lusts only? As if (with
a loud and violent cry) they would assassinate and stifle this be-
lief and hope, but not judge it. And shall the matter be thus
given up as hopeless; and the victory be yielded to prosperous
wickedness, and a too successful conspiracy of vile miscreants
against both their Maker and their own stock and race?
One would think whosoever have remaining in them any con-
science of obligation and duty to the common parent and Author
of our beings, and remembrance of our divine original, any
breathings of our ancient hope, any sense of human honor, any
resentments of so vile an indignity to the nature of man, any
spark of a just and generous indignation for so opprobrious a
contumely to their own kind and order in the creation, should
oppose themselves with an heroic vigor to this treacherous and
unnatural combination. And let us (my worthy friends) be pro-
voked, in our several capacities, to do our parts herein; and, at
least, so to live and converse in this world, that the course and
tenor of our lives may import an open asserting of our hopes in
another; and may let men see we are not ashamed to own the
belief of a life to come. Let us by a patient continuance in
well-doing (how low designs soever others content themselves
to pursue) seek honor, glory and immortality to ourselves; and
by our avowed, warrantable ambition in this pursuit, justify our
great and bountiful Creator, who hath made us not in vain, but
for so high and great things; and glorify our blessed Redeemer,
who amidst the gloomy and disconsolate darkness of this wretch-
ed world, when it was overspread with the shadow of death,
hath brought life and immortality to light in the gospel. Let us
labor both to feel and express the power of that religion which
hath the inchoation of the (participated) divine life for its prin-
ciple, and the perfection and eternal perpetuation thereof for its
scope and end.
Nor let the time that hath since elapsed be found to have worn
out with you the useful impressions which this monitory surpris-
ing instance of our mortality did at first make. But give me
leave to inculcate from it what was said to you when the occa-
sion was fresh and new: that we labor more deeply to appre-
hend God's dominion over his creatures; and that he made us
principally for himself, and for ends that are to be compassed in
the future state; and not for the temporary satisfaction and plea-
sure of one another in this world. Otherwise providence had
never been guilty of such a solecism, to take out from a family
long famous for so exemplary mutual love, and dispose him into
VOL. I.
34
266
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY,
so remote a part, not permitting to most of his nearest relations
the enjoyment of him for almost thirty years (and therein all the
flower) of his age, and at last, when you were expecting the
man, send you home the breathless frame wherein he lived.
Yet it was not contemptible that you had that, and that dying
(as Joseph) in a strange land, he gave, also, commandment con-
cerning his bones; that though in his life he was (mostly) sep-
arated from his brethren, he might in death be gathered to his
fathers. It was some evidence (though you wanted not better)
that amidst the traffic of Spain, he more esteemed the religion of
England, and therefore would rather his dust should associate
with theirs, with whom also he would rather his spirit should.
But whatever it did evidence, it occasioned so much, that you
had that so general meeting with one another, which otherwise
probably you would not have had, nor are likely again to have,
(so hath providence scattered you) in this world; and that it
proved a more serious meeting than otherwise it might: for
however it might blamelessly have been designed to have met
together at a cheerful table, God saw it fitter to order the meet-
ing at a mournful grave; and to make the house that received
you (the native place to many of you) the house of mourning
rather than of feasting. The one would have had more quick
relishes of a present pleasure, but the other was likely to yield
the more lasting sense of an after-profit. Nor was it an ill er-
rand to come together (though from afar for divers of you) to
learn to die. As you might, by being so sensibly put in mind
of it, though you did not see that very part acted itself. And ac-
cept this endeavor, to further you in your preparations for that
change, as some testimony of the remembrance I retain of your
most obliging respects and love, and of my still continuing
Your affectionate and respectful kinsman,
and servant in our common Lord,
J. HOWE.
ANTRIM, April 12, 1671.
THE
VANITY OF MAN
AS
MORTAL.
Psal. 89. 47, 48.
Remember how short my time is: wherefore hast thou made all
men in vain?
What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? Shall he
deliver his soul from the hand of the grave? Selah.
We are not concerned to be particular and curious in the in-
quiry, touching the special reference or occasion of the foregoing
complaints, from the 37 verse. It is enough to take notice, for
our present purpose, that besides the evil which had already be-
fallen the plaintiff, a farther danger nearly threatened him, that
carried death in the face of it, and suggested somewhat frightful
apprehensions of his mortal state, which drew from him this
quick and sensible petition in reference to his own private con-
cern, remember how short my time is, and did presently direct
his eye with a sudden glance from the view of his own, to re-
flect on the common condition of man, whereof he expresses his
resentment, first, in a hasty expostulation with God, "Where-
fore hast thou made all men in vain ?"-Then, secondly, in a
pathetic discourse with himself, representing the reason of that
rough charge, "What man is he that liveth, and shall not see
death? shall he deliver," &c. As though he had said; When I
add to the consideration of my short time, that of dying man-
kind, and behold a dark and deadly shade universally overspread-
ing the world, the whole species of human creatures vanishing,
quitting the stage round about me, and disappearing almost as
soon as they shew themselves: have I not a fair and plausible
ground for that (seemingly rude) challenge? Why is there so
unaccountable a phænomenon, such a creature made to no pur-
pose? the noblest part of this inferior creation brought forth into
being without any imaginable design? I know not how to un-
tie the knot, upon this only view of the case, or avoid the ab-
268
THE VANITY OF
surdity. It is hard sure to design the supposal, (or what it may
yet seem hard to suppose,) that all men were made in vain.
It appears, the expostulation was somewhat passionate, and
did proceed upon the sudden view of this disconsolate case, ve-
ry abstractly considered, and by itself only; and that he did not
in that instant look beyond it to a better and more comfortable
scene of things. An eye bleared with present sorrow, sees not
so far, nor comprehends so much at one view, as it would at an-
other time, or as it doth, presently, when the tear is wiped out, and
its own beams have cleared it up. We see he did quickly look
further, and had got a more lightsome prospect, when in the next
words we find him contemplating God's sworn.loving-kindness
unto David: (ver. 49.) the truth and stability whereof he at the
same time expressly acknowledges, while only the form of his
speech doth but seem to import a doubt" Where are they?"
But yet they were sworn in truth upon which argument he
had much enlarged in the former part of the psalm; and it still
lay deep in his soul, though he were now a little diverted from
the present consideration of it. Which, since it turns the scales
with him, it will be needful to inquire into the weight and im-
port of it. Nor have we any reason to think, that David was
either so little a prophet or a saint, as in his own thoughts to re-
fer those magnificent things (the instances of that loving-kind-
ness confirmed by oath, which he recites from the 19 verse of
the psalm to the 38, as spoken from the mouth of God, and de-
clared to him by vision) to the dignity of his own person, and
the grandeur and perpetuity of his kingdom; as if it were ulti-
mately meant of himself, that God would make him his first-
born, higher than the kings of the earth, (ver. 27.) when there
were divers greater kings, and (in comparison of the little spot
over which he reigned) a vastly spreading monarchy that still
overtopped him all his time, (as the same and successive mon-
archies did his successors;) or that it was intended of the secu-
lar glory and stability of his throne and family; that God would
make them to endure for ever, and be as the days of heaven ;
that they should be as the sun before him, and be established
for ever as the moon, and as a faithful witness in heaven. ver.
29. 37.
That God himself meant it not so, experience and the event
of things hath shown; and that these predictions cannot other-
wise have had their accomplishment than in the succession of the
spiritual and everlasting kingdom of the Messiah (whom God
raised up out of his loins to sit on his throne Act. 2. 30.) unto
his temporal kingdom. Wherein it is therefore ended by per-
fection rather than corruption. These prophecies being then
made good, not in the kind which they literally imported, but in
another (far more noble) kind. In which sense God's covenant
with him must be understood, which he insists on so much in
MAN AS MORTAL.
269
this psalm, (ver. 28.-34.) even unto that degree, as to chal-
lenge God upon it, as if in the present course of his providence
he were now about to make it void: ver. 39. though he suffi-
ciently expresses his confidence both before and after, that this
could never be. But it is plain it hath been made void long
enough ago, in the subversion of David's kingdom, and in that
we see his throne and family not been established for ever, not
endured as the days of heaven; if those words had no other
than their obvious and literal meaning. And if any to clear the
truth of God, would allege the wickedness of his posterity, first
making a breach and disobliging him, this is prevented by what
we find inserted in reference to this very case: If his children
forsake my law, and walk not in my judgments, &c. then will
I visit their iniquity with the rod, &c. Nevertheless my loving-
kindness will I not utterly take from him, nor suffer my faithful-
ness to fail. My covenant will I not break, nor alter the thing
that is gone out of my lips, ver. 30-34. All which is sol-
emnly sealed up with this, Once have I sworn in my holiness,
that I will not lie unto David, ver. 35. So that, they that will
make a scruple to accuse the Holy Ghost of falsehood, in that
which with so much solemnity he hath promised and sworn, must
not make any to admit his further intendment in these words.
And that he had a further (even a mystical and spiritual) intend-
ment in this covenant with David, is yet more fully evident from
that of the prophet Isaiah; Ho every one that thirsteth, come
ye to the waters, &c. Incline your ear and come unto me. And
I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure
mercies of David. Behold, I have given him for a witness to
the people, a leader and commander, &c. Isa. 55. 1-5. What
means this universal invitation to all thirsty persons, with the
subjoined encouragement of making with them an everlasting
covenant, (the same which we have here, no doubt, as to the
principal parts, and which we find him mentioning also, 2 Sam.
23. 5. with characters exactly corresponding to these of the
prophet,) even the sure mercies of David? The meaning sure
could not be, that they should be all secular kings and princes,
and their posterity after them for ever; which we see is the
verbal sound and tenor of this covenant.
And now since it is evident God intended a mystery in this
covenant, we may be as well assured he intended no deceit, and
that he designed not a delusion to David by the vision in which
he gave it. Can we think he went about to gratify him with a
solemn fiction, and draw him into a false and fanciful faith; or
so to hide his meaning from him, as to tempt him into the belief
of what he never meant? And to what purpose was this so spe-
cial revelation by vision, if it were not to be understood truly,
at least, if not yet perfectly and fully? It is left us therefore
to collect that David was not wholly uninstructed how to refer
270
THE VANITY OF
all this to the kingdom of the Messiah. And he hath given
sufficient testimony in that part of sacred writ, whereof God
used him as a penman, that he was of another temper than to
place the sum and chief of his expectations and consolations in
his own and his posterities' worldly greatness. And to put us
out of doubt, our Saviour, (who well knew his spirit) expressly
enough tells us, that he in spirit called him Lord, Matt. 22. 43.
when he said, The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit thou at my right
hand, till I make thy enemies thy foot-stool, Psal. 110. 1. A
plain discovery how he understood God's revelation touching
the future concernments of his kingdom (and the covenant re-
lating thereto,) namely, as a figure and type of Christ's, who
must reign till all his enemies be subdued. Nor was he in that
ignorance about the nature and design of Christ's kingdom, but
that he understood its reference to another world, and state of
things, even beyond all the successions of time, and the mortal
race of men; so as to have his eye fixed upon the happy eter-
nity which a joyful resurrection must introduce, and whereof
Christ's resurrection should be the great and most assuring
pledge. And of this we need no fuller an evidence than the
express words of the apostle Peter, (Act. 2. ver. 25. &c.) who
after he had cited those lofty triumphant strains of David. Psal.
16.8.-11. I have set the Lord always before me because he
is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my heart
is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope,
for thou wilt not leave my soul in hell (or in the state of dark-
ness,) neither wilt thou suffer thy holy one to see corruption.
Thou wilt shew me the path of life. In thy presence is fulness
of joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures forever more.
which he tells us, (ver. 25.) was spoken concerning Christ.
He more expressly subjoins, (ver. 30.) that David being a pro-
phet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him, that
of the fruit of his loins, according to the flesh, he would raise up
Christ to sit on his throne. He seeing this before, spake of the
resurrection of Christ; (ver. 31.) it appears he spake not at
random, but as knowing and seeing before what he spake, that
his soul was not left in hell; &c. nor can we think he thus re-
joices, in another's resurrection, forgetting his own.
·
All
And yet we have a further evidence from the apostle Paul,
who affirms, that the promise made to the fathers, God had ful-
filled to their children, in that he had raised up Jesus again; as it is
also written in the second psalm, Thou art my Son, this day have
I begotten thee. And as concerning that he raised him up from
the dead, now no more to return to corruption; he said on this
wise, I will give you the sure mercies of David. Act. 13. 32.—
34. Which is now apparent, must be understood of eternal
mercies; such as Christ's resurrection and triumph over the
grave doth ensure to us. He therefore looked upon what was
MAN AS MORTAL.
271
spoken concerning his kingdom here, as spoken ultimately of
Christ's, the kingdom whereby he governs and conducts his
faithful subjects through all the troubles of life and terrors of
death (through both whereof he himself as their king and lead-
er hath shewn the way) unto eternal blessedness; and upon the
covenant made with him as the covenant of God in Christ, con-
cerning that blessedness and the requisites thereto. And (to
say no more in this argument) how otherwise can we conceive
he should have that fulness of consolation in this covenant when
he lay a dying, as we find him expressing, 2 Sam. 23. 5. (for
these were some of the last words of David, as we see verse 1.)
He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all
things and sure; for this is all my salvation, and all my desire.
What so great joy and solace could a dying man take in a cove-
nant made with him, when he had done with this world, and
was to expect no more in it, if he took it not to concern a future
blessedness in another world? Was it only for the hoped pros-
perity of his house and family when he was gone? This (which
is the only thing we can fasten on) he plainly secludes in the next
words,—although he make it not to grow. Therefore it was his
reflection upon those loving-kindnesses mentioned in the former
part of the psalm, contained in God's covenant, and confirmed by
his oath, but understood according to the sense and import already
declared, that caused this sudden turn in David's spirit; and
made him that lately spoke as out of a Golgotha, as if he had
nothing but death in his eye and thoughts, to speak now in so
different a strain, and (after some additional pleadings, in
which his faith further recovers itself) to conclude this psalm
with solemn praise; Blessed be the Lord forever more, Amen
and Amen.
We see then the contemplation of his own and all men's mor-
tality, abstractly and alone considered, clothed his soul with
black, wrapped it up in gloomy darkness, makes the whole kind
of human creatures seem to him an obscure shadow, an empty
vanity but his recalling into his thoughts a succeeding state of
immortal life, clears up the day, makes him and all things appear
in another hue, gives a fair account why such a creature as man
was made; and therein makes the whole frame of things in this
inferior world look with a comely and well-composed aspect, as
the product of a wise and rational design. Whence therefore
we have this ground of discourse fairly before us in the words
themselves:-that the short time of man on earth, limited by a
eertain unavoidable death, if we consider it abstractly by itself,
without respect to a future state, carries that appearance and as-
pect with it, as if God had made all men in vain. That is said
to be vain, according to the importance of the word here used,
which is either false, a fiction, an appearance only, a shadow, or
evanid thing; or which is useless, unprofitable, and to no valua-
272
THE VANITY OF
ble purpose. The life of man, in the case now supposed, may
be truly styled vain, either way. And we shall say somewhat to
each; but to the former more briefly.
I. It were vain, that is, little other than a shew, a mere sha-
dow, a semblance of being. We must indeed, in the present
case, even abstract him from himself, and consider him only as a
mortal, dying thing; and as to that of him which is so, what a
contemptible nothing is he! There is an appearance of some-
what; but search a little, and inquire into it, and it vanishes into
a mere nothing, is found a lie, a piece of falsehood, as if he did
but feign a being, and were not. And so we may suppose the
Psalmist speaking, upon the view of his own and the common
case of man, how fast all were hastening out of life, and laying
down the being which they rather seemed to have assumed and
borrowed, than to possess and own: Lord, why hast thou made
man such a fictitious thing, given him such a mock-being? Why
hast thou brought forth into the light of this world such a sort
of creatures, that rather seem to be than are; that have so little
of solid and substantial being, and so little deserve to be taken for
realities; that only serve to cheat one another into an opinion of
their true existence, and presently vanish and confess their false-
hood? What hovering shadows, what uncertain entities are
they? In a moment they are and are not, I know not when
to say I have seen a man. It seems as if there were some
such things before my eyes; I persuade myself that I see
them move and walk to and fro, that I talk and converse
with them; but instantly my own sense is ready to give my
sense the lie. They are on the sudden dwindled away, and
force me almost to acknowledge a delusion. I am but mocked
with a shew; and what seemed a reality, proves an imposture.
Their pretence to being, is but fiction and falsehood, a cozenage
of over-credulous, unwary sense. They only personate what
they are thought to be, and quickly put off their very selves as
a disguise. This is agreeable to the language of Scripture else-
where, Surely men of low degree are vanity, and men of high
degree are a lie, &c. Psal. 62. 9. In two respects may the pre-
sent state of man seem to approach near to nothingness, and so
admit this rhetorication of the Psalmist, as if he were in this sense
a vain thing, a figment, or a lie, namely, in respect of the-
minuteness, and-instability of this, his material and perishable
being.
First. The minuteness, the small portion or degree of being
which this mortal part of man hath in it. It is truly said of all
created things, Their non-esse is more than their esse, that is,
they have more no-being than being. It is only some limited
portion that they have, but there is an infinitude of being which
they have not. And so coming infinitely nearer to nothingness
than fullness of being, they may well enough wear the name of
MAN AS MORTAL.
273
nothing. Wherefore the first and fountain-being justly appro-
priates to himself the name, I am; yea, tells us, He is, and there
is none besides him; therein leaving no other name than that of
nothing unto creatures. And how much more may this be said
of the material and mortal part, this outside of man, whatever
of him is obnoxious to death and the grave? Which alone (ab-
stractly looked on) is the subject of the Psalmist's present con-
sideration and discourse. By how much any thing hath more of
matter, it hath the less of actual essence. Matter being rather
a capacity of being, than being itself, or a dark umbrage or sha-
dow of it, actually nothing, but eïdwhov, Leudos (as are the expres-
sions of a noble philosopher) a mere semblance, or a lie. Plotin.
En. 2. 1. 6. And it is the language not of philosophers only,
but of the Holy Ghost concerning all the nations of men, They
are as nothing, less than nothing, and vanity. Isa. 40. 17. What
a scarcity then, and penury of being, must we suppose in each
individual! especially if we look alone upon the outer part, or
rather the umbrage or shadow of the man?
Secondly. The instability and fluidness of it. The visible
and corporeal being of man hath nothing steady or consistent in
it. Consider his exterior frame and composition, he is no time
all himself at once. There is a continual defluence and access
of parts; so that some account, each climacteric of his age
changes his whole fabric. Whence it would follow, that besides
his statique individuating principle (from which we are now to
abstract) nothing of him remains; he is another thing; the form-
er man is vanished and gone; while he is, he hastens away, and
within a little is not. In respect to the duration, as well as the
degree of his being, he is next to nothing. He opens his eye,
and is not. Job 27. 19. Gone in the twinkling of an eye. There
is nothing in him stable enough, to admit a fixed look. So it is
with the whole scene of things in this material world. As was
the true maxim of an ancient, (Heracl.) All things flow, noth-
ing stays; after the manner of a river. The same thing which
the apostle's words more elegantly express; The fashion of
this world passeth away. 1 Cor. 7. 31. The scheme, the shew,
the pageantry of it. He speaks of it but as an appearance, as
if he knew not whether to call it something or nothing, it was
so near to vanishing into nothing. And therefore he there re-
quires, that the affections which mutual nearness in relation
challenges, be as if they were not: that we rejoice in reference
to one another, (even most nearly related, as the occasion and
scope of his discourse teach us to understand him) but as if we
rejoiced not, and to weep, as if we wept not.
Which implies,
the objects merit no more, and are themselves, as if they were
Whence therefore a continued course of intense passion
were very incongruous towards so discontinuing things. And
the whole state of man being but a shew, the pomp and glitter-
not.
VOL. I.
35
**
274
THE VANITY OF
ing of the greatest men, make the most splendid and conspicu-
ous part of it; yet all this we find is not otherwise reckoned of,
than an image, a dream, a vision of the night; every man at his
best state is altogether vanity, walketh in a vain shew, disquiet-
eth, himself in vain, &c. Of all without exception it is pro-
nounced, Man is like to vanity, his days are as a shadow that
passeth away. As Ecclesiastes often, of all sublunary things,
vanity of vanities, &c. Job 20. 7, 8, 9. Psal. 73. 20.-39. 5. 6.
II. But yet there is another notion of vain, as it signifies useless,
unprofitable, or to no purpose. And in this sense also, if we
consider the universal mortality of mankind without respect to a
future state, there was a specious ground for the expostulation,
Why hast thou made all men in vain? Vanity in the former no-
tion speaks the emptiness of a thing, absolutely and in itself
considered; in this latter relatively, as it is referred to, and mea-
sured by an end. That is, in this sense, vain, which serves to
no end; or to no worthy and valuable end, which amounts to the
same. For inasmuch as all ends, except the last, are means also
to a further end; if the end immediately aimed at be vain and
worthless, that which is referred to it, as it is so referred, cannot
but be also vain. Whereupon now let us make trial what end
we could in this case think man made for. Which will best be
done by taking some view,-of his nature, and—of the ends for
which, upon that supposition, we must suppose him made.
First. Of the former (neglecting the strictness of philosophi-
cal disquisition) no more is intended to be said than may com-
port with the design of a popular discourse. And it shall suffice
therefore, only to take notice of what is more obvious in the na-
ture of man, and subservient to the present purpose.
And yet
we are here to look further than the mere surface and outside of
man, which we only considered before; and to view his nature,
as it is in itself; and not as the supposition of its having nothing
but what is mortal belonging to it, would make it for as the
exility (and almost nothingness) of man's being considered ac-
cording to that supposition, did best serve to express the vanity
of it, in the former notion that hath been given of a vain thing:
so the excellency, and solid substantiality of it, considered as it
is in itself, will conduce most to the discovery of its vanity in this
latter notion thereof. That is, if we first consider that, and then
the supposition of such a creature's being only made to perish.
And if what shall be said herein, do, in the sequel, tend to des-
troy that above-mentioned disposition, (as it, being established,
would destroy the prime glory of human nature) it can only be
said magna est veritas, &c. truth is great, &c. In the mean time
we may take a view, in the nature of man;
1. Of his intellective powers. Hereby he frames notions of
things, even of such things as are above the sphere of sense; of
moral good and evil, right and wrong, what is virtuous and what
MAN AS MORTAL.
275
is vicious; of abstract and universal natures. Yea, and of a
first being, and cause, and of the wisdom, power, goodness, and
other perfections, which must primarily agree to him. Hereby
he affirms and denies one thing of another, as he observes them
to agree and disagree, and discerns the truth and falsehood of
what is spoken or denied. He doth hereby infer one thing from
another, and argue himself into firm and unwavering assent to
many things, not only above the discovery of sense, but directly
contrary to their sensible appearances.
2. His power of determining himself, of choosing and refusing,
according as things are estimated, and do appear to him. Where
also it is evident how far the objects which this faculty is some-
times exercised about, do transcend the reach of all sensible na-
ture; as well as the peculiar nobleness and excellency is remark-
able of the faculty itself. It hath often for its object, things of
the highest nature, purely spiritual and divine, virtue, religion,
God himself. So as that these (the faculty being repaired only
by sanctifying grace, not now first put into the nature of man)
are chosen by some, and, where it is not so, refused (it is true)
by the most; but not by a mere not willing of them, (as mere
brutal appetite also doth not-will them, which no way reaches
the notion of a refusal,) but by rejecting them with a positive
aversion and dislike, wherein there is great iniquity and sin;
which could not be but in a nature capable of the opposite tem-
per. And it is apparent, this faculty hath the privilege of de-
termining itself, so as to be exempt from the necessitating influ-
ence of any thing foreign to it: upon the supposal whereof, the
management of all human affairs, all treaties between man and
man, to induce a consent to this or that; the whole frame of gov-
ernment, all legislation and distribution of public justice do de-
pend. For take away this supposition, and these will presently
appear most absurd and unjust. With what solemnity are appli-
cations and addresses made to the will of man upon all occa-
sions? How is it courted, and solicited, and sued unto? But how
absurd were it so to treat the other creatures, that act by a ne-
cessity of nature in all they do? to make supplications to the
wind, or propound articles to a brute? And how unjust, to de-
termine and inflict severe penalties for unavoidable and necessi-
tated actions and omissions? These things occur to our first no-
tice, upon any (a more sudden and cursory) view of the nature
of man.
And what should hinder, but we may infer from these,
that there is further in his nature;
A capacity of an immortal state, that is, that his nature is
such, that he may, if God so please, by the concurrent influ-
ence of his ordinary power and providence, without the help of
a miracle, subsist in another state of life after this, even a state
that shall not be liable to that impairment and decay that we
find this subject to. More is not (as ret) contended for; and
276
THE VANITY OF
1
so much methinks none should make a difficulty to admit, from
what is evidently found in him. For it may well be supposed,
that the admitting of this (at least) will seem much more easy
to any free and unprejudiced reason, than to ascribe the opera-
tions before instanced in, to alterable or perishable matter, or
indeed to any matter at all. It being justly presumed, that none
will ascribe to matter, as such, the powers of ratiocination or
volition. For then every particle of matter must needs be ra-
tional and intelligent, (a high advance to what one would never
have thought at all active.) And how unconceivable is it, that
the minute particles of matter, in themselves, each of them des-
titute of any such powers, should by their mutual intercourse
with one another, become furnished with them! That they
should be able to understand, deliberate, resolve, and choose, be-
ing assembled and duly disposed in counsel together: but, apart,
rest all in a deep and sluggish silence! Besides, if the particles
of matter howsoever modified and moved, to the utmost subtilty
or tenuity, and to the highest vigor, shall then become intelli-
gent and rational, how is it that we observe not, as any matter
is more subtile and more swiftly and vigorously moved, it makes
not a discernibly nearer approach (proportionably) to the facul-
ty and power of reasoning?
of reasoning? And that nothing more of an apti-
tude or tendency towards intelligence and wisdom is to be per-
ceived in an aspiring flame or a brisk wind, than in a clod or a
stone? If to understand, to define, to distinguish, to syllogize,
be nothing else but agitation and collision of the minute parts of
a rarified matter among one another; methinks, some happy
chemist or other, when he hath missed his designed mark, should
have hit upon some such more noble product, and by one other
prosperous sublimation have caused some temporary resemblance
(at least) of these operations. Or, if the paths of nature, in
these affairs of the mind, be more abstruse, and quite out of the
reach and road of artificial achievement, whence is it, that na-
ture herself (that is vainly enough supposed by some to have
been so happy, as by some casual strokes to have fabricated the
first of human creatures, that have since propagated themselves)
is grown so effete and dull, as never since to hit upon any like
effect in the like way and that no records of any time or age
give us the notice of some such creature sprung out of some epi-
curean womb of the earth, and elaborated by the only immedi-
ate hand of nature, so disposing the parts of matter in its consti-
tution, that it should be able to perform the operation belonging
to the mind of man. But if we cannot, with any tolerable pre-
tence or shew of reason, attribute these operations to any mere
matter, that there must be somewhat else in man to which they
may agree, that is distinct from his corruptible part, and that is
therefore capable, by the advantage of its own nature, of sub-
sisting hereafter, (while God shall continue to it an influence
:
MAN AS MORTAL.
277
agreeable to its nature, as he doth to other creatures.) And
hence it seems a modest and sober deduction, that there is in
the nature of man, at least, a capacity of an immortal state.
Secondly, Now, if we yet suppose there is actually no such.
state for man hereafter, It is our next business to view the ends
for which, upon that supposition, he may be thought to have
been made. Whence we shall soon see, there is not any of them
whereof it may be said, this is what he was created for, as his
adequate end. And here we have a double agent to be accom-
modated with a suitable end;-Man now made: and-God who
made him.
1. Man himself. For it must be considered, that inasmuch
as man is a creature capable of propounding to himself an end,
and of acting knowingly and with design towards it, (and indeed
uncapable of acting otherwise as a man,) it would therefore not
be reasonable to speak of him, in this discourse, as if he were
merely passive, and to be acted only by another but we must
reckon him obliged, in subordination to his Maker, to intend and
pursue (himself) the proper end for which he appointed and
made him. And in reason we are to expect that what God hath
appointed to be his proper end, should be such as is in itself
most highly desirable, suitable to the utmost capacity of his na-
ture, and attainable by his action; so carrying with it sufficient
inducements, both of desire and hope, to a vigorous and rational
prosecution of it. Thus we must, at least, conceive it to have
been in the primitive institution of man's end, unto which the
expostulation hath reference.—Wherefore hast thou made all men
in vain? And we can think of no ends which men either do or
ought to propound to themselves, but by the direction of one of
these principles, sense, reason, or religion.
1.) Sense is actually the great dictator to the most of men,
and de facto, in fact, determines them to the mark and scope
which they pursue, and animates the whole pursuit. Not that
sense is by itself capable of designating an end, but it too gener-
ally inclines and biasses reason herein. So that reason hath no
other hand in the business, than only as a slave to sense, to form
the design and contrive the methods which may most conduce to
it, for the gratification of sensual appetite and inclination at last.
And the appetitions of sense (wherein it hath so much mastery
and dominion) are but such as we find enumerated, 1 John 2. 16.
The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, the pride of life.
(if we understand the apostle to use the name of lust objective-
ly) the objects sufficiently connote the appetitions themselves.
All which may fitly be referred to sense: either the outward
senses, or the fancy or imagination, which as deservedly comes
under the same common denomination.
Or
Now, who can think the satisfying of these lusts the commen-
surate end of man? Who would not, upon the supposition of no
278
THE VANITY OF
higher, say with the Psalmist, Wherefore hast thou made all
men in vain? To what purpose was it for him to live in the
world a few years, upon this account only, and so go down to
the place of silence? What is there in the momentary satisfac-
tion of this mortal flesh; in his pleasing view of a mass of trea-
sure, (which he never brought with him into the world, but on-
ly heaped together, and so leaves not the world richer or poorer
than he found it,) what is there in the applause and admiration of
fools, (as the greater part always are,) that we should think it
worth the while for man to have lived for these things? If the
question were put, Wherefore did God make man? who would
not be ashamed so to answer it, He made him to eat, and drink,
and take his pleasure, to gather up wealth for he knows not who;
to use his inventions, that each one may become a talk and won-
der to the rest; and then when he hath fetched a few turns up-
on the theatre, and entertained the eyes of beholders with a short
scene of impertinencies, descend and never be heard of more?
What, that he should come into the world furnished with such
powers and endowments for this? It were a like case, as if one
should be clad in scarlet to go to plough, or curiously instructed
in arts and science to tend hogs.
(2) If we rise higher, to the view of such ends as more re-
fined reason may propose, within the compass only of this pre-
sent state; we will suppose that it be either, the acquisition of
much knowledge, the furnishing his understanding with store of
choice and well-digested notions; that he may please himself
in being (or in having men think him) a learned wight. Death
robs away all his gain. And what is the world the better? How
little shall he enrich the clods, among which he must shortly lie.
down and have his abode? Or how little is the gain, when the labor
and travail of so many years are all vanished and blown away
with the last puff of his dying breath, and the fruit that remains,
is to have it said by those that survive, "There lies learned
dust?" That any part of his acquisitions, in that kind, decends
to others, little betters the case, when they that succeed are all
hastening down also into the same ignoble dust. Besides, there
is an increase of sorrow, both because the objects of knowledge
do but increase and the more he knows do multiply the more upon
him, so as to beget a despair of ever knowing so much as he
shall know himself to be ignorant of; and a thousand doubts,
about things he hath more deeply considered which his confident
(undiscovered) ignorance never dreamt of or suspected. And
thence an unquietness, an irresolution of mind, which they that
never drove at any such mark are (more contentedly) unac-
quainted with. And also, because that by how much knowledge
hath refined a man's soul, so much it is more sensible and per-
ceptive of troublesome impressions from the disorderly state of
things in the world; which they that converse only with earth
MAN AS MORTAL.
279
and dirt, have not spirits clarified and fine enough to receive.
So that, except a man's knowing more than others were to be
referred to another state, the labor of attaining thereto, and oth-
er accessory disadvantages, would hardly ever be compensated
by the fruit or pleasure of it. And unless a man would suppose
himself made for torment, he would be shrewdly tempted to
think a quiet and drowsy ignorance a happier state.
Or if that a man's reason, with a peculiarity of temper, guide
him to an active negotiating life, rather than that of contempla-
tion; and determine him to the endeavor of serving mankind,
or the community to which he belongs: by how much the wor-
thier actions he performs, and by how much more he hath per-
fected and accomplished himself with parts and promptitude
for such actions; the loss and vanity is but the greater thereby,
since he and those he affected to serve, are all going down to
the silent grave.
Of how little use are the politician, the states-
man, the senator, the judge, or the eloquent man, if we lay aside
the consideration of their subserviency to the keeping the world
in a more composed and orderly state, for the prosecution of the
great designs of eternity, when ere long all their thoughts shall
perish? what matter were it what became of the world, wheth-
er it be wise or foolish, rich or poor, quiet or unquiet, governed
or ungoverned? Whoever should make their order and tranquil-
ity their study, or that should intend their thoughts and endea-
vors to the finding out the exactest methods and rules of govern-
ment and policy, should but do as they that should use a great
deal of pains and art in the curious adorning and trimming up of
a dying person; or as if some one, among many condemned
per-
sons, should be very solicitious to have them march with him in
very exact order to the place of execution. If the world be
not looked upon as an attiring room to dress one's self in, for
an appearance on the eternal stage; but only as a great charnel-
house, where they undress and put off themselves, to sleep in
everlasting darkness; how can we think it worth a thought, or
to be the subject of any rational designs or care? Who would
not rather bless himself in a more rational neglect and regard-
lessness of all human affairs; and account an unconcerned in-
differency the highest wisdom? Yea
:
(3.) If we suppose religion (which we need not because it
is mentioned in this order conceive exclusive of reason, but rath-
er perfective of it for reason having first found out God, reli-
gion adores him) to become with any the ruling principle, and to
have the direction and government of the man, as to his way
and end: how would even that languish with the best, were the
consideration of a future state laid aside, which with so few,
notwithstanding it, hath any efficacy at all to command and gov-
ern their lives? Religion terminates upon God; and upon him
under a double notion, either as we design service and honor to
280
THE VANITY OF
him, or as from him we design satisfaction and blessedness to
ourselves. Now if a man's thoughts and the intention of his
mind be carried towards God under the former notion, how great
an allay and abatement must it needs be to the vigor and zeal of
his affection, who shall with the most sincere devotedness apply
himself to serve his interest and glory, to reflect upon the uni-
versal mortality of himself and mankind, without any hope of
compensation to it by a future immortality?
It is agreed on all hands, that the utmost contributions of crea-
tures can add nothing to him: and that our glorifying him doth
only consist, either in our acknowledging him glorious ourselves,
or representing him so to others. But how little doth it signify,
and how flat and low a thing would it seem, that I should only
turn mine eye upwards and think a few admiring thoughts of God
this hour, while I apprehend myself liable to lose my very
thinking power and whole being the next? Or if we could
spread his just renown, and gain all the sons of men to a con-
currence with us in the adoring of his sovereign excellencies,
how would it damp and stifle such loyal and dutiful affection, to
consider, that the universal testimony, so deservedly given him,
shall shortly cease for ever, and that infinitely blessed Being be
ere long (again, as he was from eternity before) the only witness
of his own glory? And if the propension of a man's soul be to-
wards God under the latter notion also, in order to a satisfaction
that shall thence accrue to himself, (which design, both in the
pursuit and execution of it, is so conjunct with the former that
it cannot be severed,) it cannot but be an unspeakable diminu-
tion and check to the highest delights in this kind, to think how
soon they shall have an end; that the darkness and dust of the
grave shall shortly obscure and extinguish the glory of this light-
some scene.
To think every time one enters that blessed presence, for
aught I know I shall approach it no more! This is possibly my
last sight of that pleasant face, my last taste of those enravish-
ing pleasures! What bitterness must this infuse into the most de-
licious sweetness our taste could then admit! And by how much
more free and large grace should be in its present communica-
tions, and by how much any soul should be more experienced
in the life of God and inured to divine delights, so much the
more grievous and afflictive resentments it could not but have of
the approaching end of all; and be the more powerfully tempt-
ed to say, Lord, why was I made in vain? How faint and lan-
guid would endeavors be after the knowledge of that God whom
I may but only know and die? How impotent and ineffectual
would the attractions of this end be to man in this terrene state
to raise him above the world, and rescue him from the power of
sensible things, to engage him in the pursuit of that sanctity and
purity which alone can qualify him for converse with God, to
MAN AS MORTAL.
281.
་
bear him out in a conflict against the (more natural) inclinations
of sense, when if with much labor and painful striving, much
self-denial and severity to the flesh, any disposition should be at-
tained to relish divine pleasures, it be considered all the while,
that the end of all may be as soon lost as it is gained; and that
possibly there may be no more than a moment's pleasure to re-
compense the pains and conflicts of many years? Although, in
this case, the continual hope and expectation of some farther
manifestation and fruition might much influence a person al-
ready holy, and a great lover of God, unto a steadfast adher-
ence to him; yet how little would it do to make men such,
that are yet unsuitable and disaffected to him? or even to recov-
er such out of their lapsed and drowsy fits, that are not altogether
so?
And it is further to be considered, that since God hath given
man a being capable of subsisting in another state, (as doth ap-
pear by what hath been already said;) and since he is therefore
capable of enjoying a greater happiness than his present state
can admit of; that capacity will draw upon him a most indispen-
sable obligation to intend that happiness as his end. For admit
that there be no future state for him, it is however impossible
any man should know there is none; and upon an impartial view
of the whole case, he hath enough to render it (at least) far
more likely to him that there is. And certainly he cannot but
be obliged to pursue the highest good (even by the law of na-
ture itself) which his nature is capable of: which probably he
may attain, and which he is nowhere forbidden by his Creator
to aspire unto. Whence therefore, if we now circumscribe him
within the limits of this present mortal state; or if, for ar-
gument's sake, we suppose eventually there is no other; we
must not only confess that capacity to be given him in vain, but
that he is obliged also to employ the principal endeavors of his
life and all his powers in vain, (for certainly his principal en-
deavor ought to be laid out in order to his principal end;) that
is, to pursue that good which he may attain, but never shall;
and which is possible to him, but not upon any terms future.
And if it be admitted, that the subject state of man must silence
all objections against any such inconsistencies, and make him
content to act in pure obedience to his Maker (whether he sig-
nify his will by the law of nature only, or by any positive pre-
cept,) though he shall not hereafter enjoy any permanent state
of blessedness as the consequent reward: that virtue and good-
ness, a holy rectitude of inclinations and actions, are reward
enough to themselves that there is that justice and sweetness
in religion, to oblige him to love and reverence and adore the di-
vine Majesty this moment, though he were sure to perish for
ever and be reduced to nothing the next. I say, admitting all
this; yet,
VOL. I.
36
282
$
THE VANITY OF
2. Since the blessed God himself is to be considered as the
principal Agent and Designer in this inquiry "Why hast thou
made all men in vain ?" It is with modest and humble reverence
to be considered, What end worthy of that infinitely perfect Be-
ing, he may be supposed to have propounded to himself in form-
ing such a creature of so improvable a nature, and furnished with
so noble faculties and powers, for so transient and temporary a
state and how well it will consist with the most obvious and
unquestionable notions we can have of an absolutely perfect Be-
ing and the attributes which he most peculiarly challenges and
appropriates to himself, (so as not only to own, but to glory in
them,) that he should give being not to some few only, but to
the whole species of human creatures, and therein communicate
to them a nature capable of knowing, of loving and enjoying
himself in a blessed eternity, with a design to continue them on-
ly for some short space on earth, in a low and imperfect state,
wherein they shall be liable to sink still lower, to the vilest de-
basement of their natures; and yet not for their transgression
herein, (for it is the mortality of man, not by sin, but by crea-
tion or the design of the Creator only, that is now supposed,)
but for his mere pleasure to bereave them of being, and reduce
them all again to nothing? It is to be considered, Whether, thus
to resolve and do, can any way agree to God, according to our
clearest and most assured conceptions of him; not from our rea-
soning only, but his discovery of himself. For otherwise we
see the imputation falls where we should dread to let it rest, of
having made man in vain.
He is, in common account, said to act vainly, who acts beneath
himself, so as to pursue an end altogether unworthy of him, or
none at all. It is true, that some single acts may be done by great
persons as a divertisement, without dishonorable reflection, that
may seem much beneath them. And if any do stoop to very
mean offices and employments to do good, to help the distressed
and relieve the miserable, it is a glorious acquest; and the greater
they are, the higher is the glory of their condescending goodness.
Benignity of nature and a propension to the most unexpected
acts of a merciful self-depression, when the case may require it,
are the most comely ornaments of princely greatness, and out-
shine the glory of the richest diadem. But a wonted habitual
course of mean actions in great persons, speaks a low design or no
design at all, but either a humor to trifle, or a mischievous na-
ture and disposition, and would never fail to be thought inglorious
and infamous; as may be seen in the instances of Sardanapalus'
spinning, and Domitian's killing of flies.
When wisdom and goodness are in conjunction with power
and greatness, they never persuade a descent but upon such
terms and for such purposes that a more glorious advancement
shall ensue.
Wisdom foreseeing that end, and goodness readily
MAN AS MORTAL.
283
&
taking the way, which (though it were most undesigned, or not
aimed at as an end) could not fail to effect it. Nor are any at-
tributes of the Divine Being more conspicuous than these; more
testified by himself, or more generally acknowledged by all men
that have not denied his existence. Or if any have done that
violence to their own minds, as to erase and blot out thence the
belief of any existing Deity, yet at least, while they deny it,
they cannot but have this notion of what they deny, and grant
that these are great perfections, and must agree to God, upon
supposition that he do exist. If therefore he should do any thing
repugnant to these, or we should suppose him to do so, we should
therein suppose him to act below a God, and so as were very
unworthy of him. And though it becomes us to be very diffi-
dent of our own reasonings concerning the counsels and designs
of that eternal Being; so as if we should find him to assert any
thing expressly of himself, which we know not how to reconcile
with our own preconceived thoughts, therein to yield him the
cause, and confess the debility of our understandings: yet cer-
tainly, it were great rashness and void of all pretence, to sup-
pose any thing which neither he saith of himself; nor we know
how, consistently, to think. Nor are we, in judging of his de-
signs, to bring him down to our model, or measure him by man,
whose designs do for the most part bespeak only his own indi-
gency, and are levelled at his own advantage and the bettering
some way or other of his present condition. Whatsoever the
great God doth towards his creatures, we must understand him
to do, though with design, yet from an exuberant fulness of life
and being, by which he is uncapable of an accession to himself.
And hence that he can in reference to himself have no other in-
ducement to such action, besides the complacency which he takes
in diffusing his free communications, (for he exercises loving-
kindness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth, because he
delighteth in these things, Jer. 9. 24.) and the maintaining the
just honor and reputation of his government over his creatures,
who as they are of him, and through him, must be all to him,
that he may have glory forever. Rom. 11. 36.
Now though it be most undoubtedly true, that the sovereignty
of his power and dominion over his creatures (of which he hath
no need, and to whom he so freely gave being) is so absolute
and unlimited, that if we consider that only, we must acknow-
ledge, he might create a man or an angel and annihilate him
presently; yea, that he might, if he so pleased, raise up many
thousand worlds of intelligent and innocent creatures into being
in one moment, and throw them into nothing again the very
next moment. Yet how unwarrantably should we maim the no-
tion of God, if we should conceive of him only according to one
attribute, secluding the consideration of the rest? How mis-
shapen an idea should we bear of him in our minds? And how
284
THE VANITY OF
would it deform the face of providence, and spoil the decorum
of his administrations, if they should be the effects of one sin-
gle attribute only, the other having no influence on the affairs of
the world? If nothing but mercy should appear in his dispen-
sations towards sinful man, so that every man might do what
were good in his own eyes, without cause of fear to be called to
account; if the most dissolute and profane were equally assured
of his favor, with those who are most holy and strictly regular
in all their conversation, what would be thought of God and re-
ligion? Or how should we savour the notion of an impure de-
ity, taking pleasure to indulge the wickedness of men? And if jus-
tice alone have the whole management of affairs, and every act
of sin be followed with an act of sudden vengeance, and the
whole world become a flaming theatre, and held in a hopeless
expectation of fiery indignation and of judgment without mercy,
what would become of that amiable representation, and the
consolatory thoughts we have of God, and of that love and duty
which some souls do bear towards him? Or if power should
affect daily to shew itself in unusual appearances and effects, in
changing every hour the shapes of the terrestrial creatures in
perpetual quick innovations of the courses of the celestial, with
a thousand more kinds of prodigious events that might be the
hourly effects of unlimited power, how were the order of the
world disturbed, and how unlovely an idea would it beget in
every intelligent creature, of him that made and rules it?
it is from no defect of mercy, that all men are not equally favor-
ed and blessed of God; nor of justice, that a speedy vengeance
is not taken of all; nor of power, that the world is not filled with
astonishing wonders every day; but rather from their unexcess-
iveness, and that they make that blessed temperature where they
reside, and are exercised in so exact proportion, that nothing is
ever done unworthy of him, who is, at once, both perfectly mer-
ciful, and just, and powerful, and wise, and hath all perfections
eminently comprehended and united in his own most simple Be-
ing. It were therefore besides the purpose to insist only what
sovereign power, considered apart, might do; but we are to
consider what may be congruous to him to do, who is infinitely
wise and good, as well as powerful.
Yet
(1.) Let it be weighed, how it may square with the divine wis-
dom, to give being to a world of reasonable creatures, and giving
them only a short time of abode in being, to abandon them to a
perpetual annihilation. Wisdom in any agent must needs suppose
the intention of some valuable end of his action. And the di-
vine wisdom, wherein it hath an end diverse from that which
his pure goodness and benignity towards his creatures would in-
cline him to, (which also we must conceive it most intent to pro-
mote and further,) cannot but have it chiefly in design; it being
determined that his goodness should open itself and break forth
MAN AS MORTAL.
285
into a creation, and that of reasonable creatures, so to manage
his government over these, (which indeed are the only subjects
of government in the strict and proper notion of it,) as may most
preserve his authority, and keep up his just interest in them,
both by recommending him to their fear and love; to possess
them with that pure and necessary reverence of him that may
restrain them from contemptuous sinning; and so endear his
government to them, as to engage them to a placid and free obe-
dience. But how little would it agree with this design of the
divine wisdom, to have made man only for this temporary state?
For,
[1] How little would it tend to the begetting and settling
that fear of God in the hearts of men, that were necessary to
preserve his authority and government from a profane contempt;
whereas daily experience shews, that there is now no difference
made between them that fear God and them that fear him not,
unless wherein the former are worse dealt with and more expos-
ed to sufferings and wrongs: that, at least, it is often (yea, for
the most part) so, that to depart from iniquity is to make one's
self a prey; that those who profess and evidence the most entire
devotedness to God, and pay the greatest observance and duty
to him, become a common scorn upon this very account, and are
in continual danger to be eaten up as bread by those that call not
upon God; while in the mean time the tabernacles of robbers
prosper, and they that provoke God are secure, are not plagued
as other men, nor in trouble as other men. And judgment is
not here executed for wicked works in this world. If also no-
thing is to be expected, either of good or evil, in another, who is
likely to be induced, in this case, to fear God or to be subject to
him? And how unlike is this to the wisdom of the supreme
Ruler, to expose his most rightful and sovereign authority to the
fearless and insolent affronts of his own revolted creatures, with-
out any design of future reparation to it; as if he had created
them on purpose, only to curse him and die? But he hath
prevented the occasion of so reproachful a censure, and thought
fit to fill his word and the conscience of guilty sinners with
threats and dreadful presages of a future judgment and state of
punishment. To which he is no less concerned, both in point of
wisdom and veracity, (and I may add of legal justice,) to make
the event correspond, that he may neither be found to have
omitted any due course for preventing or redress of so great an
evil and that if the threatening do not effectually over-awe sin-
ners, the execution may at least right himself: and that, in the
mean time, he do not (that which would least of all become him,
and which are most repugnant to his nature) make use of a so-
lemn fiction to keep the world in order, and maintain his govern-
ment by falsehood aad deceit, that is, by threatening what he
knows shall never be.
286
THE VANITY OF
[2.] Nor were there (in the case all along supposed) a more
probable provision made, to conciliate and procure to the Divine
Majesty the love which it is requisite he should have from the
children of men. And this cannot but be thought another apt
method for his wisdom to pitch upon, to render his government
acceptable, and to engage men to that free and complacential
subjection which is suitable to a God. For how can that filial
and dutiful affection ever be the genuine product or impress of
such a representation of the case between God and them; that
is, that they shall be most indispensably obliged to devote their
whole being and all their powers entirely to his service and in-
terest; exactly to observe his strictest laws, to keep under the
severest restraint their most innate, reluctant inclinations; and
in the mean time expect the administrations of providence to be
such, towards them, that they shall find harder usage all the days
than his most insolent and irreconcilable enemies, and at last
lose their very beings, they know not how soon, and therewith
(necessarily) all possibilities of any future recompense. Is this
a likely way to procure love, and to captivate hearts into an
affectionate and free obedience? Or what is it probable to pro-
duce, but a sour and sullen despondency, the extinction of all
generous affection, and a temper more agreeable to a forced en-
thralment to some malignant, insulting genius, than a willing
subjection to the God of all grace and love? And every one
will be ready to say, There is little of wisdom in that govern-
ment, the administration whereof is neither apt to beget fear nor
love in those that are subject to it; but either through the want
of the one to be despised, or to be regretted through the want of
the other. And this being the very case, upon supposition of
no future state, it seems altogether unworthy of the divine wis-
dom, that such a creature should ever have been made as man,
upon which no end is attainable (as the course of providence
commonly runs in this world,) in comparison whereof, it were
not better and more honorable to his Maker, (whose interest it
is the part of his wisdom to consult,) that he had never been.
And therefore, as to God and the just and worthy designs of his
glory, he would seem upon this supposition, wholly made in vain.
And
(2.) How congruous and agreeable would this supposition
prove to the goodness of God? As the other attribute of wis-
dom doth more especially respect his own interest, so doth this
the interest of his creatures: that is, if it be understood, not in a
metaphysical, but in a moral sense; as it imports a propensity
and steady bent of will unto benefaction, according to that of the
Psalmist, Thou art good, and dost good. Psal. 119. 68. And
this free and generous principle it is, which gives the first rise
and beginning to all the designs any way respecting the well-be-
ing and happiness of creatures; which, then infinite wisdom
MAN AS MORTAL.
287
forms and manages to their full issues and accomplishment, guid-
ing (as it were) the hand of almighty power in the execution of
them.
That there should be a creation, we may conceive to be the
first dictate of this immense goodness which afterwards diffuses
itself through the whole, in communications agreeable to the na-
ture of every creature. So that even this inferior and less noble
part, the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord. Psal. 33. 5.
It creates first its own object, and then pours forth itself upon it
with infinite delight, rewarding the expense with the pleasure of
doing good. Now if we should suppose such a creature as man
made only for that short time and low state which we see to be
allotted to him in this world, it were neither difficult nor enough
to reconcile the hypothesis with strict justice, which upon the
ground of absolute dominion, may do what it will with its own:
but the ill accord it seems to have with so large and abounding
goodness, renders it very unlike the dispensation of the blessed
God; no enjoyment being in that case afforded to this sort of
creatures, agreeable to their common nature and capacity, either
in degree or continuance.
Not in degree: for who sees not, that the nature of man is
capable of greater things than he here enjoys? And where that
capacity is rescued from the corruption that narrows and debases
it, how sensibly do holy souls resent and bewail their present
state, as a state of imperfection? With how fervent and vehe-
ment desires and groans do they aspire and pant after a higher
and more perfect? We that are in this tabernacle do groan, be-
ing burdened; not for that we would be unclothed, 2 Cor. 5.
4. (that is not enough, to be delivered out of the miseries of
life, by laying down this passive part, is not that which will ter-
minate their desires,) but clothed upon, that mortality might be
swallowed up of life. Theirs are not brutal groans, the com-
plaint of oppressed sensitive nature under a present evil; but
rational and spiritual, the expressions of desire strongly carried
to pursue an apprehended suitable good. The truest notion we
can yet have of the primitive nature and capacity of man, is by
beholding it in its gradual restitution. And is it agreeable to the
goodness of God, to put such a nature into any, and withhold
the suitable object? As if it were a pleasure to him, to behold
the work of his own hands spending itself in weary strugglings
towards him, and vexed all the while it continues in being, with
the desire of what it shall never enjoy; and which he hath
made it desire, and therein encouraged it to expect?
Nor in continuance: for I suppose it already evident, that the
nature of man is capable (in respect of his principal part) of
perpetuity, and so of enjoying a felicity hereafter that shall be
permanent and know no end. And it seems no way congruous
to so large goodness, to stifle a capacity whereof it was itself
288
THE VANITY OF
the author, and destroy its own work. For if the being of man
is intended for so short a continuance, either he may have the
knowledge of this determination concerning him, or not. If he
cannot have the knowledge of it, why should any one say what
they cannot know; or put such a thing upon God, that is so vile-
ly reflecting and dishonorable to him? If he may have the know-
ledge of it, then doth he seem a creature made for torment,
while by an easy reflection upon himself he may discern, he is
not uncapable of a perpetual state, and is yet brought forth into
the light to be ere long extinguished and shut up in everlasting
darkness. And who can think this a thing worthy of infinite and
eternal goodness? Besides (as hath been insisted before,) that
this torture, proceeding from so sad an expectation, cannot but
be most grievous and afflictive to the best. Whence the apostle
tells us, that christians, if in this life only they had hope, were
of all men most miserable: (1. Cor. 15. 19.) so that it were
more desirable never to have been. If any yet fall hereafter
into a state to which they would prefer perpetual annihilation,
inasmuch as it is wholly by their own default, it no way reflects
upon divine goodness. But it would be a dishonorable reflection
rather upon that Author and Fountain of all goodness, if he
should not express himself wise and just as well as good; as it
would upon a man, especially a ruler over others, if that which
we call good-nature were conjunct with stolidity or an insensible-
ness of whatsoever affront to his person and government. Upon
the whole, therefore, it seems most repugnant to these great at-
tributes of the divine Being, to have made man only for this pre-
sent state. That to think so, were to conceive unworthily of
him, as if he had acted much beneath himself, and done a vain
thing in making such a creature, no end being attainable by it,
which we can suppose either his wisdom or goodness to aim at.
If any would imagine to themselves an expedient, by suppos-
ing an eternal succession of human generations, upon whom the
wisdom and goodness of God might have a perpetual exercise in
the government and sustentation of them for their appointed
times this would be far from satisfying as to either, but would
rather increase the difficulty; for there would be the same tempt-
ation upon all the individuals, to contemn or regret the govern-
ment of their Maker. So that he should hereby even eternize
his own reproach; and shall always, in every succession, have
still the same craving appetites returning, and expectations never
to be satisfied, which were as repugnant to all he hath discover-
ed to us of his nature, as any thing we can suppose. Though
some persons of a light and desultory humor, might imagine to
themselves a pleasure in it, if they had the power to make such
a rotation of things, rising and falling, coming and passing away,
at their beck and command; and such as were of a sanguinary
temper, might sport themselves in rising up and lopping off lives
MAN AS MORTAL.
289
at pleasure with an arbitrary hand: yet sure they would never
gain by it the esteem of being either wise or good; and would,
it is like, in time grow weary of the sport. But to form to our-
selves such ideas of the blessed God, were an injury not inferior
to the very denial of his being.
His providence towards the inferior creatures hath no resem-
blance of any such thing; whom his bounty sustains agreeably
to their natures, who have no foresight of their own cessation
from being, to keep them in a continual death by the expectation
of it; and who serve to valuable and reasonable purposes while
they are continued; for they are useful, partly to the sustenta-
tion of man, and partly to his instruction, in order to his higher
ends. And though each individual of them do not actually so, it is
sufficient that the several kinds of them are naturally apt there-
to, which are propagated according to a settled course and law of
nature, in their individuals. And if all immediately serve not
man, yet they do it mediately, in serving those that more im-
mediately do. Besides, that when such a work was to be done,
as the furnishing out and accomplishing this lower world; it was
meet all things should be in number, weight, and measure, and
correspond in every part. As if one build a house for entertain-
ment, though the more noble rooms only do come in view, yet
all the rest are made answerably decent, on supposition that they
may. It was becoming the august and great Lord of this world,
that it have in it, not only what may sustain the indigent, but
gratify the contemplative by fresh variety; who would be apt to
grow remiss by conversing only with what were of every days
observation. Nor was that a low end, when such contemplation
hath so direct a tendency to raise a considering mind to the
sight, and love, and praise of the supreme Being, that hath
stamped so lively signatures and prints of his own perfections
upon all his works.
If it be said, man might be in the same kind
serviceable to the contemplation of angels, though he were him-
self never to know any other than this mortal state; it is true that
he might so; but yet the incongruities were no way salved, of
God's putting a capacity and expectation into his nature of a better
state of his dealing so hardly with them, that he hath procur-
ed to love him of his never vindicating their high contempt
that spent their days in rebellion against him. Besides, that
these were ill predecents, and no pleasant themes for the view
of an angelical mind. And if they see a nature extinct, capable
of their state, what might they suspect of their own? So that,
which way soever we turn our thoughts, we still see that man's
mortality and liableness to an unavoidable death, abstracted from
the thoughts of another state, carry that constant aspect, as if
all men were made in vain.
What remains then, but that we conclude hence, we ought
not too much, or too long, thus to abstract, nor too closely con-
VOL. I.
37
290
THE VANITY OF
fine our eye to this dark and gloomy theme, death and the grave,
or withhold it from looking further. For far be it from us to
think the wise and holy God hath given being to man (and con-
sequently exercised a long continued series of providence
through so many successive ages towards him) in vain. Noth-
ing but a prospect of another state can solve the knot and work
through the present difficulty, can give us a true account of man
and what he was made for. Therefore since it would be pro-
fane and impious, sad and uncomfortable, a blasphemy to our Ma-
ker, and a torture to ourselves, to speak it as our settled appre-
hensions and judgment, that God hath made man to no purpose;
we are obliged and concerned, both in justice to him and com-
passion to ourselves, so to represent the case, as that we may be
able to remove so unworthy and black a thought to the greatest
distance from us, both in itself and whatsoever practice would
be consequent thereto; that is, to conclude, That certainly there
must be another state after this, and accordingly steer our
course. The improvement then of the foregoing discourse will
have a double aspect:-on our judgments, and practice.
1. On our judgments, To settle this great principle of truth
in them. The certain futurity of another state after this life is
over, unto which this present state is only preparatory and in-
troductive. For whereas we can never give a rational account
why such a creature as man was made, if we confine all our ap-
prehensions concerning him to his present state on earth: let
them once transcend those narrow limits, fly over into eternity
and behold him made for an everlasting state hereafter, and the
difficulty now vanishes, the whole affair looks with a comely and
befitting aspect.
:
For we may now represent the case thus to ourselves that
man was put into this terrestrial state and dwelling, by the wise
and righteous designation of his great Creator and Lord, that
his loyalty to him, amidst the temptations and enticements of
sensible things, might be tried awhile: that revolting from him,
he is only left to feel here the just smart of his causeless defec-
tion that yet such farther methods are used for his recovery,
as are most suitable to his so impaired state. An allayed light
shines to him in the midst of darkness, that his feebler eye may
receive a gradual illumination, and behold God in those more ob-
scure discoveries which he now vouchsafes of himself, till by
degrees he be won to take up good thoughts of him, and return
into an acquaintance and friendship with him; which once be-
gun here, shall he hereafter perfected into eternal fruitions.
The offence and wrong done to his Maker, he in a strange un-
thought-of way makes compensation of to himself; and testifies
his reconcilableness, and persuades a reconciliation upon such
terms, and by so endearing mediums, as might melt and mollify
hearts of adamant; and shall effectually prevail with many to
?
MAN AS MORTAL.
291
yield themselves the subjects and instances of his admired good-
ness for ever; while others lie only under the natural conse-
quents and just resentments of their unremedied enmity and
folly. So are the glorious issues of God's dispensation towards
man, and the wise and merciful conduct of his equal government,
worthily celebrated through the days of eternity with just ac-
clamations and praises. We can fasten upon nothing exception-
able or unaccountable, yea, or that is not highly laudable and
praise-worthy in this course of procedure. Therefore, though
now we behold a dark cloud of mortality hanging over the whole
human race; though we see the grave still devouring and still
unsatisfied, and that all are successively drawn down into it; and
we puzzle ourselves to assign a reason why such a creature was
made a reasonable being, capable of an everlasting duration, to
visit the world only and vanish, to converse a short space with ob-
jects and affairs so far beneath it, and retire we know not whither:
if yet our eye follow him through the darker paths of the region
of death, till at the next appearance we behold him clothed with
immortality and fitted to an endless state, the wonder is over,
and our amusement quickly ceases.
Wherefore let us thus bethink ourselves, and consider: Sure-
ly he that made this great universe, and disposed all the sorts,
stations, and motions of creatures in it in so exquisite order and
method, cannot but be a most perfectly wise and intellectual
agent, and therefore cannot be supposed to have done any thing
to no purpose; much less when all the inferior creatures have
ends visibly answering the exigency of their natures, to have
made so excellent a creature as man (the nobler part of his low-
er creation) in vain; that he only should be without his propor-
tionable end, and after a short continuance in being, return to
nothing, without leaving it conjecturable what he was made for.
This were so intolerable an incongruity, and so unlike the foot-
steps that every-where else appear in the divine wisdom and
goodness, that we cannot but inquire further into this matter,
and conclude at last; that he was made for some higher purpo-
ses than are within the reach of our sight, and hath his princi-
pal part yet to act upon another stage, within the vail, that shall
never be taken down. The future immortality of man seems
therefore so certainly grounded upon what is discovered and ge-
nerally acknowledged touching the nature of God and his most
peculiar and essential perfections, that unless we were further
put to prove the existence of a God, (which to them that are
rational need not, and to them that are not were in vain,) there
can no reasonable doubt remain concerning it.
2. Wherefore the further use we have to make of the matter
proposed, is in reference to our practice: which it may fitly serve
both to correct and reprove, and also to direct and guide.
(1.) It administers the ground of just rebuke: that since, if
292
THE VANITY OF
we terminate our thoughts and designs upon things only on this
side the grave, it would seem we were wholly made in vain;
and we do yet so generally employ our cares and endeavors
about such things, and even the vilest aud most despicable of
these; and so live not to our own dishonor only, put to the re-
proach of our Maker, as if he made us for no more worthy ends.
And let us but impartially debate the matter with ourselves; Can
we, in sober reason, think we were made only for such ends as
most men only pursue? have we any pretence to think so? or
can it enter into our souls to believe it? Would not men be
ashamed to profess such a belief; or to have it written in their
foreheads, these are the only ends they are capable of? Then
might one read, such a man born to put others in mind of his pre-
decessor's name, and only lest such a family should want an heir:
such a one to consume such an estate, and devour the provenue
of so many farms and manors: such a one to fill so many bags and
coffers to sustain the riot of him that succeeds: some created to
see and make sport; to run after hawks and dogs, or spend the
time which their weariness redeems from converse with brutes,
in making themselves such, by drinking away the little residue
of wit and reason they have left; mixing with this genteel exer-
cise, their impure and scurrilous drolleries, that they may befriend
one another with the kind occasions of proving themselves to be
yet of human race, by this only demonstration remaining to them,
that they can laugh; which medium, if the wisdom of the just
were known, would be found so pregnant as to afford them a
double conclusion, and be as effectual, oftentimes, to prove them.
fools as men. Others one might read born to trouble the world,
to disquiet the neighborhood, and be the common plague of all
about them, at least, if they have any within their reach and
power that are wiser and more sober than themselves, or that
value not their souls at so cheap a rate as they others made to
blaspheme their Maker, to rend the sacred name of God, and
make proof of their high valor and the gallantry of their brave
spirits, by bidding a defiance to heaven and proclaiming their he-
roic contempt of the Deity and of all religion. As if they had
persuaded themselves into an opinion, that because they have
had so prosperous success in the high achievements of conquering
their humanity, and baffling their own fear, and reason, and con-
science, death also will yield them as easy a victory, or be afraid
to encounter men of so redoubted courage; that the God of hea-
ven, rather than offend them, will not stick to repeal his laws
for their sakes, or never exact the observance of them from
persons of their quality; that they shall never be called to judg-
ment, or be complimented only there with great respect, as per-
sons that bore much sway in their country, and could number so
many hundreds or thousands a year; that at least, the infernal
flames will never presume to touch so worthy personages; that
MAN AS MORTAL.
293
devils will be awed by their greatness, and fear to seize them,
lest they should take it for an affront. No conceit can be imputed
to these men absurd enough to over-match the absurdity of their
practice. They can themselves think nothing more gross and
shameful than what they daily are not ashamed to act. For
what absurdity can be compassed in a thought greater than what
appears in a course of life managed in perpetual hostility to all
principles of reason and humanity? And either they must own
all the impious folly of such thoughts, or confess, upon other ac-
counts, an equal infatuation in their thinking faculty itself. For
either they think their course justifiable, or they do not. If they
do, how fatally are all things inverted in their depraved minds?
Wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, good and evil, seem to them
transformed into one another, and are no longer to be known by
their own names. The common notions of all mankind are but
blind fancies in comparison of their later and clearer illumina-
tion: and the ancient religious sentiment of all former ages,
dreams and follies to their admired new light. Their wise and
rare discoveries, that they and all things came by chance, that
this world hath no owner or Lord, (because they never had wit
or patience to consider the nonsense of them; and though they
never, any of them, had the luck to see one clod of earth, or
grain of sand, start up into being, out of nothing; much less
ground to think, that such a world should of itself do so,) are
reason enough with them, to mock at the eternal Being, and at-
tempt to jeer religion out of the world, and all other men out of
their reason and wits, as they have themselves. And sure this
must be their only pretence, and their atheism the best reason,
upon which to justify their constant practice. For who can
think (while he sees them not yet in chains) they should be so
perfectly mad, as to acknowledge only such a deity (the author
and ruler of all things) whose favor were worth nothing, or to
be procured by affronts; to whom contempt were a sacrifice,
and the violation of whatsoever is sacred, the most effectual
propitiation? or acknowledge him for a God, whom they hope
to over-power, and to prosper in a war against him?
And if they acknowledge none at all, and this be the funda-
mental article of their creed, that there is indeed none: then
can no man charge them with any thought more grossly foolish
than their own; nor can they devise to say any thing, by which
more certainly to argue themselves bereft of the common under-
standing of men. For who that is not so, if he only take no-
tice of his own being, may not as certainly conclude the exist-
ence of a God, as that two and two make four? Or what ima-
gination can be too absurd to have place in that mind, that can
imagine this creation to be a casualty? He would be thought
besides himself that should say the same of the composition of
a clock or a watch, though it were a thousand times more sup-
294
THE VANITY OF
posable. But if they do not justify themselves, to what pur-
pose is it further to press them with absurdities, that persist in
constant self-contradiction: or that have not so much left them
of rational sensation, as to feel in their own minds the
pressure
of the very greatest absurdity? If they only presume they do
well, because they have never asked themselves the question, or
spent any thoughts about it; this speaks as much a.besotted
nind as any of the rest, and is as unworthy of a reasonable
creature. Why have they the power of thinking? Or who do in
any case more generally incur the censure of imprudence and
folly, than they who have only this plea for their actions, that
they did not consider? Especially when the case is so plain,
and the most sudden reflection would discover the iniquity and
danger of their course. And one would think nothing should
be more obvious, or more readily occur to the mind of a man,
than to contemplate himself, and-taking notice there is such a
creature in the world, furnished with such abilities and powers-
to consider, What was I made for? what am I to pitch upon as
my proper end? nor any thing appear more horrid to him, than
to cross the very ends of his creation.
(2.) It may also be improved to the directing of our practice.
For which purpose we may hence take this general rule, that
it be such as becomes the expectation of a future state :—for
what else is left us, since in our present state we behold nothing
but vanity? We see thus stands our case, that we must measure
ourselves by one of these apprehensions, either, we are made
in vain, or,—we are made for a future state. And can we en-
dure to live according to the former, as if we were impertinen-
cies in the creation, and had no proper business in it? What
ingenuous person would not blush to be always in the posture
of a useless hang-by; to be still hanging on, where he hath
nothing to do; that if he be asked, Sir, what is your business
here? he hath nothing to say. Or how can we bear it, to live
as if we came into the world by chance, or rather by mistake
as though our creation had been a misadventure, a thing that
would not have been done, had it been better thought on? And
that our Maker had over-shot himself, and been guilty of an
oversight in giving us such a being? Who, that hath either
just value for himself, or any reverence for his Maker, could en-
dure either to undergo the reproach, or be guilty of the blas-
phemy which this would import? And who can aquit himself of
the one or the other, that lives not in some measure agreeably
to the expectation of somewhat beyond this present life? Let
us therefore gird up the loins of our minds, and set our faces as
persons designing for another world; so shaping our course,
that all things may concur to signify to men the greatness of our
expectations. We otherwise proclaim to the world (to our own
and our Creator's wrong) that we have reasonable souls given
MAN AS MORTAL.
295
us to no purpose. We are therefore concerned and obliged both
to aim at that worthy end, and to discover and make it visible
that we do so.
Nor is a design for an immortal state so mean and inglorious,
or so irrational and void of a solid ground, that we have any
cause either to decline or conceal it; either not to retain, or to
be ashamed of our hope. Nor is there any thing to be done in
prosecution of it, so unworthy as to need a corner, or that re-
quires it to be done as a work of darkness. Neither yet is it a
vain-glorious ostentation, or the affectation of making shew of
an excellency above the vulgar pitch, that I persuade to: but a
modest, sober avowing of our high design and hope; neither
making any near approach to a proud arrogance on the one hand,
nor a mean pusillanimity on the other. Truly great and gene-
rous spirits know how to carry under secular honor with that
prudent and graceful 'decorum, as shall signify a just owning of
themselves without insolence towards others. Real worth,
though it do not vaunt, will shew itself; and while it doth not
glare, yet cannot forbear to shine. We should endeavor the
excellency of a spirit refined from earth and dross, and aspiring
towards a state of immortality, may express itself, and shine in
its native lustre; with its own, not with borrowed beams; with
a constant, even, natural, not with an unequal, artificial light :
that all that will, may see by the steady tendency of our course,
that we are aiming at the great things of another world: though
we all the while, are not so much solicitous to have our end and
purpose known, as to obtain them.
And verily, since the vile sons of the earth, the men of sense,
that aim at no other end thau to gratify their brutal appetite with
such pleasure as is only to be compassed within a short life's
time in this world, and who live to the reproach of their Maker,
and of mankind, do not go about to hide the infamy of their low
design, or conceal the degenerous baseness of their mean spirits ;
but while they make their belly their God, and only mind earth-
ly things, do also glory in their shame how much were it be-
neath the state and spirit of the sons of God, that are worthily
designing for a glorious immortality, to be ashamed of their glo-
ry, or think of stealing a passage to heaven in the dark? No: let
them know, it is not only too mean a thing for them to involve
themselves in the common spirit of the sensual world, but even
to seem to do so: And that this is so foul and ignominious a
thing, as whereof they are concerned, not to be free from the
guilt only, but the suspicion. Those worthy souls that in form-
er, and darker days were engaged in seeking the heavenly coun-
try, thought it became them to confess themselves pilgrims and
strangers on the earth; (Heb. 11.) and therein to declare plain-
ly, that they were seeking that better country. Which confes-
sion and plain declaration we need not understand to be merely
296
THE VANITY OF
verbal, but practical and real also; such as might be understood
to be the language of their lives, and of a constant, uniform course
of actions, agreeable to such a design.
Let us therefore bethink ourselves, what temper of mind and
manner of life may be most conformable to this design, and best
become persons pretending to it; whereupon we should soon
find our own thoughts instructing us, that such things as these
would be most becoming and fit in reference thereto; and which
we may therefore take as so many particular directions how to
govern our spirits, and behave ourselves answerably to so great
an expectation.
[1.] That we endeavor for a calm indifferency and dispassion-
ate temper of mind towards the various objects and affairs that
belong to this present life. There are very narrow limits al-
ready set, by the nature of the things themselves, to all the real
objective value that such things have in them and it is the part
of wisdom and justice, to set the proportionable bounds to all
the thoughts, cares, and passions, we will suffer to stir in our
minds in reference to them. Nothing is a more evident ac-
knowledged character of a fool, than upon every slight occasion
to be in a transport. To be much taken with empty things, be-
tokens an empty spirit. It is a part of manly fortitude to have
a soul so fenced against foreign impressions, as little to be moved
with things that have little in them: to keep our passions under
a strict rein and steady command, that they be easily retractable
and taught to obey; not to move till severe reason have audited
the matter, and pronounced the occasion just and valuable. In
which case the same manly temper will not refuse to admit a pro-
portionable stamp and impress from the occurring object. For it
is equally a prevarication from true manhood, to be moved with
every thing and with nothing: the former would speak a man's
spirit a feather, the latter a stone. A total apathy and insensi-
bleness of external occurrents hath been the aim of some, but
never the attainment of the highest pretenders. And if it had,
yet ought it not to have been their boast; as upon sober thoughts
it cannot be reckoned a perfection. But it should be endeavor-
ed, that the passions which are not to be rooted up (because they
are of nature's planting) be yet so discreetly checked and de-
pressed, that they grow not to that enormous tallness, as to over-
top a man's intellectual power, and cast a dark shadow over his
soul. A rational authority must be maintained, a continency
and dominion over one's self, that there be not an impotent pro-
fusion, and we be never so affected with any thing, but that the
object may still be able to warrant and justify the affection, both
for the nature and degree of it. Which rule, if we strictly ob-
serve and apply it to the present case, we shall rarely meet with
any temporal concern that ought to move us much; both for the
littleness of such things themselves, and that we have so un-
speakably greater things in our view and design.
MAN AS MORTAL.
297
In conformity therefore to our so great expectation, we ought
more particularly to watch and repress our inclinations, appe-
tites, and affections towards each several sort and kind of ob-
jects, which time and this present state hath within the confines
of it. As, how contemptuously should we look upon that emp-
ty vanity of being rich? how coldly and carelessly should we
pursue, how unconcernedly should we lose, any thing that might
entitle us to that name? The pursuit of so despicable a trifle,
with violent and peremptory desire, so as hereby to suffer
a diversion from our design for another world, as to make our
eternal hope less than nothing, (for to any man's calm and sober.
thoughts, this will be found as little :) and so will amount to a
total quitting of all our pretensions to a better, future state;
that is, when so we indulge this odd irrational, this wildly fan-
ciful, and purely humorous appetite, (of which no man can
give any tolerable account,) that it becomes ravenous, when it
devours a man's time, his thoughts, the strength and vigor of his
spirit, swallows up his nobler designs, and makes an idle doting
about he knows not what, or why, his main business. Espe-
cially when conscience itself becomes a sacrifice to this impure
unhallowed idol; and the question is wholly waived, "is this
thing just and honest?" and nothing is considered, but that it
is commodious and gainful. Yet, (if herein we will take upon
us to pass a judgment upon other men,) it will be no way ingen-
uous or just, that in smaller and disputable matters, we make
our own apprehensions a measure and standard to them. They
are commonly aptest to do so, who have least studied the matter,
and have nothing but their ignorant confidence to entitle them
to the dictator's chair; where, however, having placed them-
selves, they liberally bestow their censures and reproaches on all
that think it not fit to throw away their own eyes, and see with
their bad ones: and conclude them to have no conscience, who
go not according to theirs. And that they cannot but have some
base design, who in any thing presume to swerve from their
judgment, especially if the advantage, in any temporal respect,
happen to lie on that side from which they dissent.
Nothing can indeed so comport with the spirit and design of
one who believes himself made for another world, as a brave
and generous disdain of stooping to the lure of present emolu-
ment, so as thereby to be drawn into any the least thing which
he judges not defensible by the severest rules of reason and re-
ligion; which were to quit a serene heaven for mire and dirt.
There is nothing in this world of that value, or worthy to be
bought so dear, as with the loss and forfeiture of the rest and re-
pose of a mind, quiet, benign, peaceful, and well pleased with
itself. It is enough, if one find himself, by difficulties which he
cannot master, constrained to dissent from persons above excep-
tion wise and pious, placidly, and without unbecoming confi-
VOL. I.
38
298
THE VANITY OF
ז
할
​:
dence, to go on in the way which his present judgment allows,
carrying with him a modest sense of human infirmity, and how
possible it is, the error may lie on his own part: having yet to
relieve him against that supposition, the clearness of his own
spirit, the conscience of his innocency of any ill disposition or
design, of his instructibleness and preparedness to admit a con-
viction if he err. And be he never so fully persuaded about
the thing in difference, yet to consider the smallness of it, and
how little cause he hath of glorying, if he know in this matter
more than others, who possibly know ten times more than he,
in far greater and more important matters. But, in matters
clearly determined by common agreed principles, to prevaricate
out of an indulgence to mere appetite, to give up one's self to
practices apparently immoral and flagitious, only to comply with,
and lest he should not satisfy sensual desires, is the character of
one who hath abandoned the common hope of all good men ;
and who, that he may have his lot with beasts in this world,
dreads not to have it with devils in the other. And it is upon
the same ground, equally unbecoming them that pretend to this
hope, to be visibly concerned and discomposed for losses and dis-
appointments they may meet with in this kind, when unexpected
events withstand their having much of this world, or deprive
them of what they have. It becomes them that reckon their
good things are to come hereafter, to shew by their equal de-
portment and cheerful aspect in any such case, that they appre-
hend not themselves touched in their most considerable interests.
Yea, though they suffer not losses only, but injuries; and be-
sides that they are damnified (as much as such things can signi-
fy) they find themselves wronged; and though further trouble
and danger threaten them in the same kind, they should evi-
dence how much it is above the power either of chance or ma-
lice, not only to make them miserable, but even to disturb or
make them sad: that they are not happy by a casualty and
that their happiness is not in the command of them who can-
not command their own: that it only depends on the inward
constitution and frame of their own spirits, attempered to the
blessed objects of the invisible world, whereby they have the
assurance of enjoying them fully hereafter, and the present
grateful relishes therefore in the mean time. And hence, that
they can be happy without the world's kindness, and in despite
of its unkindness: that they have somewhat within them, by
which they are enabled to rejoice in tribulation; being troubled
on every side, yet not to be distressed to "take joyfully the
spoiling of goods, knowing within themselves they have in hea-
ven a better and enduring substance:" nor to suffer or discover
any perturbation or disquiet: not to have their souls ruffled, or
put into disorder: nor let any cloud sit on their brow, though
dark and dismal ones seem to hang over their heads.
:
MAN AS MORTAL.
299
And the same absurdity it would be to indulge to themselves
an unbounded liberty of sensual pleasures. For that looks like
a despair of futurity; as if a day were a mighty gain for eating
and drinking, because to-morrow we must die. An abstemious
shyness here is comely; a tasting only the delights, whereof
others suffer themselves to be ingulphed: a prudent reserved-
ness and restraint, so as that what shall cause with others an un-
beseeming transport and diffusion of themselves, be entertained
not with a cynical morosity, but a pleasant composure and well-
ordered complacence; keeping a due and even distance between
levity and sourness. Yet there is a natural retiredness in some
men's tempers; and in others an aversion to pleasures, proceed-
ing only of a rational estimate of their emptiness and vanity in
themselves, which may, however, much fall short of what the
present case requires: the exigency whereof is no way satisfied,
but where such a moderation is the product of a comparative
judgment between the delights of the present and those of the
future state; when one so enjoys any thing in this world, as to
be under the power of nothing because of the more prevailing
influence he is under from the power of the world to come:
when his faith is the parent of his sobriety, and his denial of
worldly lusts flows from the expectation of the blessed hope:
when, because he more highly prizes, and lest he forfeit, eter-
nal pleasures, he so behaves himself towards all temporary ones,
as neither to abuse those that are lawful, nor to be abused by
the unlawful; not to exceed in the one, nor to touch the
other.
Thus also ought we to look upon secular honours and dignity;
neither to make them the matter of our admiration, affectation, or
envy. We are not to behold them with a libidinous eye, or let our
hearts thirst after them: not to value ourselves the more for
them, if they be our lot, nor let our eye be dazzled with admi-
ration, or distorted with envy, when we behold them the orna-
ments of others. We are not to express that contempt of them,
which may make a breach on civility, or disturb the order and
policy of the communities whereto we belong. Though this be
none of our own country, and we are still to reckon ourselves
but as pilgrims and strangers while we are here; yet it becomes
not strangers to be insolent or rude in their behavoiur, where
they sojourn; how much soever greater value they may justly
have of their own country. We should pay to secular greatness
a due respect, without idolatry, and neither despise nor adore it;
considering, at once, the requisiteness of such a thing in the pre-
sent state, and the excelling glory of the other. As though in
prudence and good manners we would abstain from provoking
affronts towards an American sachim, or sagamore, if we did
travel or converse in their country; yet we could have no great
veneration for them, having beheld the royal pomp and grandeur
300
:
THE VANITY OF
of our own prince; especially he who were himself a courtier
and favorite to his much more glorious sovereign, whom he is
shortly to attend at home could have no great temptation to sue
for offices and honors, or bear a very profound intrinsic homage
to so mean and unexpressive an image of regality.
It can surely no way become one who seeks and expects the
honor and glory which is conjunct with immortality, (Rom, 2.
7.) to be fond of the airy titles that poor mortals are wont to
please themselves with; or to make one among the obsequious
servile company of them whose business it is to court a vanish-
ing shadow, and tempt a dignified trifle into the belief it is a dei-
ty; to sneak and cringe for a smile from a supercilious brow, and
place his heaven in the disdainful favors of him, who, it may be,
places his own as much in thy homage, so that it befalls into the
supplicant's power to be his creator, whose creature he affects
to be. What eye would not soon spy out the grossness of this
absurdity? And what ingenuity would not blush to be guilty of it?
Let then the joyful expectants of a blessed immortality, pass by
the busy throng of this fanciful exchange; and behold it with as
little concern, as a grave statesman would the sports and ludic-
rous actions of little children; and with as little inclination of
mind, as he would have to leave his business and go play with
them; bestowing there, only the transient glance of a careless
or a compassionate eye, and still reserving their intent steady
views for the glorious hope set before them. And with a pro-
portionable unconcernedness should they look on, and behold the
various alterations of political affairs, no further minding, either
the constitution or administration of government, than as the in-
terest of the universal Ruler, the weal and safety of the prince
or country are concerned in them. But how many under the
specious pretence of a public spirit, make it their whole busi-
ness to inspect and pry into these affairs, even with a most mean-
ly private and interested one; watching over the public beyond
the bounds of their own calling; and with no other design, than
to catch at an opportunity of serving their own turns! How
many that stand perpetually at a gaze, in a suspenseful expecta-
tion how things will go; either joying or hoping to behold any
favorable prognostics to the party whereto they have thought fit
to addict themselves! glad or desirous to see it engross power,
and grasp the sum of things, not from any sense of duties to-
wards God's vicegerents; not from love of justice or study of
public advantage, but that the happier lot may befall or remain
to themselves. These men are absorbed, and swallowed up of
the spirit of this world, contempered only to this sublunary re-
gion, concorporate with the earth, so as to partake in all its pangs
and paroxisms, and tremulous motions. By the beating of their
pulse you may know the state of things in this lower world, as
if they were of the same piece, and had but one soul with it.
MAN AS MORTAL.
301
'
Let them see times and a state of things on earth suitable to
their genius, and you put a new life and soul into them. Re-
duce them to a despair here, and (so little communion have
they with the affairs of that other country,) the most specious in-
viting representation that can be made to them of the world to
come hinders not, but their hearts languish and die, and become
as stones within them.
But that lofty soul that bears about with it the living appre-
hensions of its being made for an everlasting state, so earnestly
intends it, that it shall ever be a descent and vouchsafement with
it, if it allow itself to take notice what busy mortals are doing
in their (as they reckon them) grand negociations here below.
And if there be a suspicion of an aptness, or inclination to in-
termeddle in them to their prejudice to whom that part belongs,
can heartily say to it, (as the philosopher to the jealous tyrant,)
We of this academy are not at leisure to mind so mean things:
we have somewhat else to do than to talk of you. He hath still
the image before his eye, of this world vanishing and passing
away; of the other, with the everlasting affairs and concern-
ments of it, even now ready to take place and fill up all the
stage; and can represent to himself the vision (not from a mel-
ancholic fancy or crazed brain, but a rational faith and a sober
well instructed mind,) of the world dissolving, monarchies and
kingdoms breaking up, thrones tumbling, crowns and sceptres
lying as neglected things. He hath a telescope through which
he can behold the glorious appearances of the Supreme Judge ;
the solemn state of his majestic person; the splendid pomp of
his magnificent and vastly numerous retinue; the obsequious
throng of glorious celestial creatures, doing homage to their
eternal King; the swift flight of his royal guards, sent forth into
the four winds to gather the elect, and covering the face of the
heavens with their spreading wings; the universal silent atten-
tion of all to that loud sounding trumpet that shakes the pillars
of the world, pierces the inward caverns of the earth, and re-
sounds from every part of the encircling heavens; the many
myriads of joyful expectants arising, changing, putting on glory,
taking wing, and contending upwards, to join themselves to the
triumphant heavenly host the judgment set; the books open-
ed; the frightful amazed looks of surprised wretches; the equal
administration of the final judgment; the adjudication of all to
their eternal states; the heavens rolled up as a scroll; the
earth and all things therein consumed and burnt up.
And now, what spirit is there any more left in him towards
the trivial affairs of a vanishing world? how indifferent a thing
is it with him who bears himself highest in a state of things
whereof he foresees the certain hastening end? Though he will
not neglect the duty of his own place, is heartily concerned to
have the knowledge and fear of God more generally obtained in
302
THE VANITY OF
this apostate world; and is ready to contribute his utmost regu-
lar endeavors for the preservation of common peace and order
in subserviency hereto. Yet abstractedly from these consider-
ations, and such as have been before mentioned, he is no more
concerned who is uppermost, than one would, passing by a swarm
of flies, which hath the longest wings, or which excels the rest
in sprightliness or briskness of motion. And for himself, he can
insert this amongst his most serious thanksgivings, that while
the care is incumbent on others, of watching over the public
peace and safety, he may sit still and converse with God and his
own more sedate thoughts. How secure is he in this, that infi-
nite wisdom governs the world! that all things shall be disposed
the best way, to the best and most valuable ends! that an afflict-
ed state shall never befall unto good men, but when it is fittest
and most conducible it should do so! that the prosperity carnal
appetite covets, is never denied them, but when it would pe per-
nicious! How calm is he in the midst of external troubles! how
placid and serene a spirit inhabits his peaceful breast! When all
things are shaken round about him, he is not shaken. He bears
all sorts of troubles, but creates none to others, nor is disturbed
by any himself. But they that delight to see this world rolling
or fixed, as may most serve their private purposes, and have a
perpetual quarrel with it, while it looks not kindly upon them;
their life is bound up in it, and their pretences to another, are
but the languid, faint notions of what they never heartily believe
nor desire. Upon the whole matter; nothing is more agreeable
to this great expectation, than a steady restraint and moderation
of our passions towards things without us; that is, all the sever-
al sorts of external objects and affairs, that so variously invite
and tempt our observation and regard in this our present state.
[2.] I next add a further congruity, if we pretend to this
expectation, is, that we be not over-much taken up in minding
the body. For this looks like a design (or that inconsistent
wish) to have our present state perpetuated; and that the
thoughts are remote from ús of a change for a better. As if not-
withstanding all that the divine goodness hath promised concern-
ing the future inheritance of the free and heaven-born seed, this
did still lie nearest to our hearts, O that Ishmael might live in
thy sight! And that the belief did miserably languish with us,
of any better portion than what our eyes do already behold; to-
gether with the apprehension of a spiritual being in us, to be
ripened into a complete and actual capacity of enjoying what is
better. It is true, that all the exorbitant workings of those
meaner and ignoble passions that are moved by objects and occa-
sions without and foreign to us, have the body for their first and
last, their spring and source, their centre and end. But thence
it becomes the more proper and requisite, that we draw nearer
this their seat and centre, and strike at the root; and in killing
1
MAN AS MORTAL.
303
that inordinate love and solicitude for the body, mortify them all
at once. We are indeed so far to comply with the pleasure of
our Maker, as not to despise the mean abode which he hath as-
signed us for awhile in the body. But withal, to take heed lest
we so cross and resist it, as to make caring for the body our
whole business; which he hath only enjoined us in subservien-
Its
cy to an unspeakably greater and more important business.
health and welfare ought upon very valuable accounts to be care-
fully preserved by all prudent means: but to indulge its slothful
desires, and comply with its licentious wild cravings, is far be-
neath us, a base unmanning of ourselves, and would signify, as
if so absurd a conceit had passed with us into a settled judg-
ment, that a reasonable immortal spirit was created only to tend
and serve a brute. It is monstrous to behold, with how common
consent multitudes that professedly agree in the belief of the
immortal nature of their souls, do yet agree to debase and en-
slave them to the meanest servility to their mortal bodies; so as
these are permitted to give laws to them, to prescribe them
rules of living, and what their daily employment shall be. For
observe the designs they drive, and what is the tendency of their
actions and affairs (whence the judgment is to be made concern-
ing their inward thoughts, deliberations, and resolves,) and is not
the body the measure and mark of them all? What import or
signification is there in this course, of a design for futurity? And
(which increases the folly of it to a wonder) they can make a
shift to go on thus from year to year, and take no notice of the
absurdity! They agree to justify each one himself, and one an-
other. The commonness of the course takes away all sense of
the horrid madness of it. And because each doth as the rest
do, they seem to imagine they all do well, and that there is
nothing exceptionable in the case; and go on: as the silly
sheep, Non qua eundum est sed qua itur: not the way they
ought, but which they see others go before them. Sen.
But if any place could be found for calm and sober thoughts,
what would be reckoned a greater impertinency, than to be at
so great pains for maintaining a bodily life, without considering
what that life shall serve for? to employ our utmost care to live,
but to live for we know not what? It becomes us to be patient
of the body, not fond: to treat and use our bodies as things
shortly to be put off and laid aside to care for them, not for
their own, but the work's sake we have to do in them, and leave
it to them to indulge and pamper the body, who expect never to
live out of it not to concern ourselves, that the circumstances
of our bodily state be such as will gratify our appetites, but an-
swer the ends for which our Maker thought fit we should live
awhile in the body: reckoning with ourselves, we are lodged in
these mean receptacles (though somewhat commodious, yet) but
for a little while, and for great purposes, and more minding our
304
THE VANITY OF
journey and home, than our entertainment in our inn: content-
edly bearing the want of bodily accommodations that are not
easily to be compassed, and the pressure of unavoidable bodily
infirmities; not much pitying ourselves because of them; nor
deeply regretting it, if wants and pains pinch our flesh; nay,
though we see the outward man perishing, so we can but find the
inward renewing day by day.
[3.] That we set ourselves with the whole intention of our
souls, to mind the concernments of the future state, the invisible
things of the other world; and direct the main stream of our
thoughts, desires, hopes, and joys, thitherward. For how
highly justifiable and becoming is it, that we principally mind
the state and things we were made for? We should therefore
make these familiar to ourselves, and use our spirits to those
more noble and pleasant themes: recounting often, how unwor-
thy it is of them to grovel in the dust, or choose the objects of
their converse by such measures only as are taken from sense.
It is an iniquity which, though God may be so gracious to us as
to forgive, we should not easily forgive to ourselves, that we
have so often chosen to converse with empty trifles, while so
great things have invited our thoughts in vain. Their remote-
ness from sense hath little of excuse in it, and unworthy a rea-
sonable creature. Methinks they should be ashamed to allege it,
who consider themselves furnished with an intellectual power,
that doth in many other instances, control the judgment of sense,
and impeach it of falsehood. Would we not blush to profess it
for a principle, that there is nothing real that exceeds the sphere
of our sense? We would reckon it a part of modesty not to
ascribe too much to our own understandings, or presume too far
upon our intellectual ability, against the judgment of sage and
knowing persons. How is it then, that we think it not immo-
dest, to oppose the apprehensions of our dull and incapacious
sense to the common faith and reason of all good and wise men,
that are or have been in the world, as well as our own? If we
have not seen what the state of things is in the other world, are
we not told? and have we not enough to assure us, that, it is He
hath told us, whose nature cannot suffer him to impose upon us,
or represent things otherwise than they are? Who else can be
the author of so common a persuasion? If any man had been
the first inventor of the opinion,-that there is another state of
things to succeed to this, would he not have assumed it to him-
self that he was so? would he not have owned it, and glo-
ried in it? Or would not some or other of his proselyted disci-
ples have preserved his name and memory, and transmitted them
to posterity? Could so vast a sect be without a head or master,
known and celebrated among men?
Less plausible opinions find some owners; Why is it not said,
who was the first broacher of this? And if he can find no
MAN AS MORTAL.
305
other parent for it, but He who was the Parent of our beings,
how grateful should such a discovery be to us, both for his sake
and its own? Upon his account, we should surely think it
worthy to be believed; and upon its own, to be considered and
seriously thought on, with greatest delight and sense of plea-
sure.
Many things that we reckon considerable upon much lower
accounts, we so believe, as to let them engage our hearts, and
influence our practice, upon much lower evidence. How en-
tirely are men's spirits taken up many times about meaner mat-
ters, whereof they have only a (much more uncertain and falli-
ble) report from one another! What pretence can we have, less
to regard the testimony of him that made us, discovering to us
things so great, so important, so rational in themselves, even
though they had not been so expressly revealed? Let us there-
fore drive the matter to a clear and short issue, and come to a
resolution with ourselves; have we reason to believe such things,
or no? If we can so far impose upon ourselves, as to think we
have not; or be tempted into so abject, so unrequired, and so
unwarrantable a self-denial, so base an esteem of our own be-
ings, as to account the things of this earth and present world
have enough in them to answer any ends we can suppose our-
selves made for; let us no longer mock the world, by pretend-
ing to believe what we believe not. But if this be our settled
judgment, and we will avow and own it, that we believe these
things; let us no longer expose and make ourselves ridiculous,
by counteracting our own professed belief in matters of such
moment, pretending to believe and disregarding them at the
same time. It is absurd and foolish, to believe such things and
not mind them much, or not let our souls and our practice be
commanded and governed by them not to have any desires, and
cares, and hopes, and joys, influenced thereby to the uttermost.
How rational is it, here to be deeply solicitous, that by the un-
suitableness of our own spirits we defeat not our own expecta-
tions! How pleasant and delectable (that danger being provi-
ded against,) to sit down and compare our present with our ex-
pected state, what we are, with what we hope to be ere long!
To think of exchanging shortly, infirmity, pollution, darkness,
deformity, trouble, complaint; for power, purity, light, beauty,
rest and praise! How pleasant, if our spirits be fitted to that
state! The endeavor whereof is a further congruity in the pre-
sent case, namely,
:
[4.] That we make it our principal business to intend our
spirits, to adorn and cultivate our inward man.
What can more
become us, if we reckon we have somewhat about us made for
immortality, than to bestow our chief care upon that immortal
part? Therefore, to neglect our spirits, confessedly capable of
so high an estate, to let them languish under wasting distempers,
VOL. I.
39
306
THE VANITY OF
or lie as the sluggard's field, overgrown with thorns and briars,
is as vile a slur as we can put upon ourselves and our own pro-
fession. We should therefore make this the matter of our earn-
est study. What would be the proper improvements and orna-
ments of our spirits, and will most fitly qualify them for the
state we are going into; and of our daily observation how such
things thrive and grow in us. Especially, we should not be sa-
tisfied, till we find in ourselves a refinedness from this earth, a
thorough purgation from all undue degrees of sensual inclination
and affection, the consumption of our dross by a sacred fire from
heaven, a spirit of judgment and of burning, an aptitude to spi-
ritual exercises and enjoyments, high complacency in God, fer-
vent love, a worshiping posture of soul, formed to the venera-
tion of the eternal wisdom, goodness, power, holiness; pro-
found humility and abnegation of ourselves, a praiseful frame of
spirit, much used to gratulations and thanksgivings, a large and
universal love, imitating as much as is possible the divine, a
pronenss to do good to all, a steady composure and serene tem-
per of spirit, the repose and rest of a contented mind, not
boisterous, nor apt unto disquiet, or to create storms to our-
selves or the world, every way suitable to the blissful regions,
where nothing but perfect purity, entire devotedness to God,
love, goodness, benignity, well-pleasedness, order, and peace,
shall have place forever.
This we ought to be constantly intent upon, as the business
of our lives, our daily work, to get our spirits so attempered and
fitted to heaven, that if we be asked, What design we drive?
What are we doing? we may be able to make this true answer,
We are dressing ourselves for eternity. And since nothing is
required hereto, that is simply impossible, nothing but what is
agreeable to our natures, and would be a perfection to them;
how worthy and commendable an ambition were it, to be always
aspiring? not to rest or take up beneath the highest pitch of
attainable excellency in these kinds? reckoning every degree
thereof as due to our natures, and that they have not what be-
longs to them, while any thing of real intrinsic moral goodness
is yet wanting; and not only due, but necessary, and what we
shall have need of in reference to the state we are shortly to
enter upon; that except such things be in us, and abound, we
cannot have an abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom.
And should we, pretending to such an expectation, omit such
endeavors of preparing ourselves, it were a like thing as if an
unbred peasant should go about to thrust himself, with an ex-
pectation of high honors and preferments, into the prince's court ;
or as if a distracted man should expect to be employed in the
greatest and most intricate affairs of state; or an uninstructed
idiot take upon him to profess and teach philosophy.
Therefore let us consider: Are we conscious of no unfitness
MAN AS MORTAL.
307
for that blessed state? to dwell in the presence of the holy God?
to be associated with the heavenly assembly of pure intellectual
spirits? to consort and join with them in their celebrations and
triumphant songs? Can we espy no such thing in ourselves, as
an earthly mind, aversion to God, as pride, disdain, wrath, or
envy, admiration of ourselves, aptness to seek our own things
with the neglect of others, or the like? And do not our hearts
then misgive, and tell us we are unready, not yet prepared to
approach the divine presence, or to enter into the habitation of
his holiness and glory? And what then have we to do, but set
ourselves to our preparatory work; to set our watches, make
our observations, take strict notice of all the deflexions and obli-
quities of our spirits, settle our methods, and hasten a redress?
Do not we know this is the time and state of preparation? And
since we know it, how would the folly torture us, by reflection,
of having betrayed ourselves to a surprisal! None are ever
wont to enter upon any new state without some foregoing pre-
paration. Every more remarkable turn or change in our lives,
is commonly (if at all foreknown) introduced by many serious
forethoughts. If a man be to change his dwelling, employment,
condition, common discretion will put him upon thinking how to
comport with the place, business, converse, and way of living
he is next to betake himself to. And his thoughts will be the
more intense, by how much more momentous the change. If
he be to leave his country, with no probability of returning; if
he be designed to a station, the circumstances whereof carry any
thing of awfulness in them; if to public business, if on court
attendances, with what solemnity and address are such things
undertaken! How loth and ashamed would one be, to go into
such a condition, being totally unapt, not at all knowing how to
behave himself in it! But what so great change as this can
the nature of man admit, that a soul, long shut up in flesh, is
now to go forth from its earthly mansion, and return no more;
expecting to be received into the glorious presence of the eternal
King, and go act its part among the perfected spirits that attend
his throne! How solicitous endeavor of a very thorough prepa-
ration doth this case call for! But how ill doth the common
course of men agree to this, who never have such matters in
their thoughts, who so much neglect not their very hogs as they
do their spirits!
[5.] That we have much conversation with God. He is the
only full and permanent good; therefore the endeavor of be-
coming very inward with him, doth best agree with the expect-
ation of a state perfectly good and happy. To expect this, and
converse only with shadows and vanishing things, is to expect
to be happy without a happiness; or that our happiness should
betide us as a casual thing, or be forced upon us at last whether
we will or no. But since our happiness in God is on his part
308
THE VANITY OF
not necessary, but vouchsafed and gratuitous, depending on mere
good pleasure is it our best way of ingratiating ourselves with
him, to neglect him and live as without him in the world; to
keep ourselves strangers to him all our days, with a purpose on-
ly of flying to him at last, when all things else that were went
to please us are vanished and gone?
And if we could suppose
his wisdom and justice to admit his forgiving so provoking con-
tempt of him, and receiving an exiled soul forced out of its
earthly abode, that to the last moment of it would never look
after him, or have to do with him; yet can it be supposed, that
its own habitual aversion to him could allow it to be happy in
him? Especially being increased and confirmed by its con-
sciousness and sense of guilt? How can these but make it
banish itself, and in a sullen enmity and despair perpetually flee
the divine presence? What can in this case be more natural
to it, than to give up itself to eternal solitary wanderings, as
a fugitive from God; to affect to be ever enwrapt in its own
darkness, and hidden from his sight, and be an everlasting tor-
mentor to itself? Can we be happy in him whom we do not love ;
or love whom we will not know, or be acquainted with?
What sure ground of hope can we imagine to ourselves, that
our reconciliation and acquaintance with God shall ever be
brought about, if it be not done while we are here in the body?
Will we be so vain, as to cherish a hope that not only affronts
the visible import of God's revelation, but the very reason of
things, and the natural tendency of our own spirits? Nor in-
deed (if we would consider better) can we possibly hope for what
we desire not, or whereto our hearts are in an habitual disaffec-
tion, otherwise than (in the present case) negatively, and that
our infidelity permits us not to fear the contrary. Yea, and the
lively hope of a blessedness in God, as it includes desire, would
certainly infer that purity (the image of his own) that could
never fail to incline our hearts to him, and which would habitu-
ate us to a course of walking with him in inward communion.
And this were comely and agreeable to our pretences, if while
we profess ourselves made for another state, we retire ourselves
from the fading things that put a vanity into this, and single out,
by our own choice, the stable good which we expect ever to en-
joy. How befitting is it, to pass by all things with neglect, and
betake ourselves hither with this sense? 66
Lord, I have view-
ed the world over, in which thou hast set me; I have tried how
this and that thing will fit my spirit and the design of my crea-
tion; and can find nothing in which to rest, for nothing here
doth itself rest, but such things as please for awhile, in some de-
gree, vanish and flee as shadows from before me. Lo, I come to
thee, the eternal Being, the Spring of life, the Centre of rest,
the Stay of the creation, the Fulness of all things! I join my-
self to thee, with thee I will lead my life and spend my days,
MAN AS MORTAL.
309
with whom I aim to dwell forever, expecting when my little
time is over to be taken up ere long into thy eternity."
And since we, who live under the gospel, have heard of the
Redeemer, of the dignity of his person, of his high office and
power, of his merciful design and great achievements for the
restoring of lapsed and lost souls: it is most agreeable to our
apprehensions of the vanity of this present state, and our ex-
pectations for the future, that we commit ourselves to him: that
with entire trust and love, devotedness and subjection, we give
ourselves up to his happy conduct, to be led by him to God, and
instated into that eternal blessedness which we look for. His
kingdom is not of this world; as we profess not to be. We can-
not be innocently ignorant, that its constitution and frame, its
laws and ordinances, its aspect and tendency in itself, and the
whole course of its administration, are directed to that other
state. "He hath overcome death, and him that had the power
of it; hath brought life and immortality to light, is the first be-
gotten from the dead, and the first fruits of them that slept;"
hath opened heaven to us, and is himself ascended and entered
as our victorious, triumphant Captain and Forerunner. He is
adorned with highest power, and hath set up a universal king-
dom extended to the utmost bounds of this apostate world, and
the vaster regions of innocent and constantly loyal spirits. His
proclamations are issued out, his ensigns displayed to invite and
call in whosoever are weary of the sin and vanity of this wretch-
ed world, of their alienation from the life of God, of living in
the midst of death; to join themselves to him, the Prince and
Lord of life, and be led by him to the immortal state. If the
present state of things appear dismal to us; if we reckon it a
woful spectacle to behold sin and death reigning, wickedness
and mortality acting their combined parts, to waste the world
and lay it desolate; if we would deliver ourselves and escape
from the common ruin, are seriously designing for heaven, and
that world in which death hath no place, nor any shadow of
death; let us betake ourselves to him, enroll our names, put
ourselves under his banners and discipline, strictly observing the
laws and following the guidance of that our invisible Lord, who
will be Author of eternal salvation to them that obey him, and
save to the utmost all that come to God through him. How dear
should he be to us! How cheerfully should we trust him, how
dutifully serve him, how faithfully adhere to him, both for his
own sake, and that of the design he hath in hand for us, and the
pleasant savour of heaven and immortality which breathes in
both! But if we neglect him, and disown our relation to him;
or if we let days and years go over our heads, wherein we
drowsily slumber; roll ourselves in the dust of the earth; and
while we call ourselves christians, forget the reason and impor-
tance of our own name, and think not of our being under his call
310
THE VANITY OF
and conduct to the eternal kingdom and glory; this is perverse-
ly to reject what we say (only) we seek; to disclaim and re-
nounce our pretences to immortality; to blast and damn our own
great hopes.
[6.] It is congruous to our expectation of so great things after
death, that we live in a cheerful pleasant expectation of it. For
what must necessarily intervene, though not grateful in itself
should be reckoned so, for the sake of that which is. This only
can upon the best terms reconcile us to the grave; that our
greatest hopes lie beyond it; and are not hazarded by it, but ac-
complished. Although, indeed, nothing were to be expected
hereafter; yet so little suitable entertainment doth this world af-
ford to a reasonable spirit, that the mere weariness of beholding a
scene of vanity and folly, might well make a recess acceptable.
For is it so grateful a thing to observe the confused scramble and
hurry of the world? how almost every one makes it his business.
to catch from another what is worth nothing? with what toil,
and art, and violence men pursue, what when they embrace they
find a shadow? to see deluded mortals, each one intent upon his
own particular design, and most commonly interfering with an-
other's some imposed upon by others' over-reaching wit, and
all by their own folly: some lamenting their losses, others their
short and unsatisfying acquisitions: many pleasing themselves
with being mocked, and contentedly hugging the empty cloud,
till death comes and ends the story, and ceases the busy agita-
tion; that is, with so many particular persons, not with the
world: a new succession still springing up, that continue the in-
terlude, and still act over the same parts, ad tædium usque !
What serious person, who that is not in love with impertinen-
cy and foolery, would much regret it, to close his eyes, to have
the curtains drawn, and bid good-night to the world without
ever wishing to see the morning of such another day? And even
they that have the world most in their power, and can command
what they please for the gratifying of their appetites, without
the contradiction and control of others, what can they enjoy
more to morrow than they did yesterday; or the next year than
this? Is it so much worth the while to live, to see a few more
persons bow the knee? to extend power a little further? to
make another essay, what pleasure sense can taste in some or
other hitherto unexperimented rarity? What more peculiar gus-
to this or that thing will afford; and try the other dish? or to
renew the same relishes over again? He whose creative fancy
could make him golden mountains in a dream, create him a
prince of nations, give him to enjoy the most delicious pleasures
of the world in idea, might, with some plausible shew of reason
be deemed the happier man, than he that hath and is all this in-
deed for his toil is less, and his victories unbloody, his plea-
sures not so impure. However, one would think, that to such
:
MAN AS MORTAL.
311
whose utmost attainments end only in the pleasure of their sense,
and have but this epiphonema, "Now let us sit down, eat drink
and be merry." A little time might suffice for business of no
more weight; and that no man, after he hath once seen the
course of the world and tasted of its best delicacies, should
greatly wish for a renewal or long-continued repetition of so ful-
some vanities.
But the most find not the world so kind, and are not so much
exercised in the innovating of pleasures as miseries, (changes
being their only remedies, as the moralist speaks; or in bearing
(more sadly) the same every day's burden; and drawing out
the series of their calamities in the same kind through the whole
course of their time. And surely, these things considered,
there wants not what might persuade a sceptic, or even a per-
fect infidel, as to another world, not so much to be in love with
this. For upon the whole, let but the case be thus put; is it
not as good to do nothing, as to be busy to no purpose? And
again, is it not as good to be nothing, as to be, and do nothing?
Sober reason would judge, at least, there were but little odds.
But now; if such considerations as have been mentioned, would
suffice to state the matter in æquilibrio, to make the scales
even; ought the rational sober belief of a blessed immortality
to do nothing to turn the balance? Ought the love of God to do
nothing? The desire and hope of a state perfectly good and hap-
py, quiet and peaceful; of living in the region of undefiled, in-
nocent love and pleasure; in the communion of holy and bless-
ed spirits, (all highly pleased, not in their own only, but one an-
other's happiness; and all concentering in the admiration and
praise of their common Parent and Lord;) ought all this nothing
to alter the case with us; or signify nothing to the inclining our
minds to the so unspeakably better part? Methinks since we ac-
knowledge such an order of intelligent (and already happy)
creatures, we should even blush to think they should be specta-
tors of our daily course and (too plainly discovered) inclina-
tions; so disform and unagreeable to all the laws and dictates of
reasonable nature? What censures, may we think, do they pass
upon our follies? Are those things great in their eyes, that are
so in ours? In lesser matters (as some interpret that passage)
indecencies are to be avoided, because of those blessed spir-
its. 1. Cor. 11. 10. May we not then be ashamed, that they
should discern our terrene dispositions; and see us come so un-
willingly into their consort and happy state? Although our pre-
sent depressing circumstances will not suffer us to be in all
things, as yet, comformable to their high condition, we should
however carry it as candidates thereto, studying to approve our-
selves, waiting and longing to be transumed and taken up into it.
And since we have so high and great an expectation, and it is
understood and known, that the very perfection and end of our
312
THE VANITY OF
beings is no otherwise attainable, than by putting off our sordid
flesh, and laying aside this earthly appurtenance; that yet there
should be so fixed and prevailing an aversion to it, is a most un-
accountable thing, and one of the greatest problems in nature.
I say, prevailing for admit, what is like to be alleged, that an
addictedness to the body is by natural inclination: ought not the
laws of a superior to prevail over those of the inferior nature?
And is not the love of God a higher natural law than that of the
body; to whom here our service is little, yea our disservice
much; and from whose most desirable commerce we suffer so
unaccountable a disclusion by the sad circumstances of our bodi-
ly state? Are we more nearly allied to a piece of clay, than to
the Father of our spirits? And again, is not every thing nearest
to itself; and obliged to place love there, rather than on any in-
ferior thing (at least) how nearly soever united; since there
can be no pretence of any such nearer union, than of a thing
with itself? And are not our souls and our bodies (though uni-
ted, yet) distinct things? Why then should not our souls, that
are capable of understanding their own interest, mind that first,
intend most their own perfection and improvement, and begin
their charity at home? It is not strange, that what is weaker
and more ignoble, should affect union with what is above it, and
a spring of life to it: but when it is found burdensome, nothing
forbids, but that the superior being may be well content, upon
fair and allowable terms, to be rid of the burden. Therefore,
though flesh and blood may reluctate and shrink at it, when we
think of laying it down; yet it becomes immortal spirits, to con-
sider their own affairs, and be (more principally) intent upon
what will be their own advantage. If so mean a creature as a
sorry flea, finding it can draw a suitable aliment from our bodies,
affect to dwell there, and is loth to leave us; it were a ludicrous
pity to be therefore content to endure its troublesome vellica-
tions, because we fear the poor animal should be put to its shifts,
and not be able otherwise to find a subsistence.
It is true, that the great Creator and Lord of the universe,
hath not permitted us the liberty of so throwing off our bodies
when we will, which otherwise are in dignity far more beneath
our spirits than so despicable a creature is beneath them. And
to His disposal that hath ordered this conjunction for a time.
(whether we look upon it as an effect of his simple pleasure, or
of his displeasure) we must yield an awful and a patient sub-
mission, till this part of his providence towards us have run its
course and attained its ends. And then, how welcome should
the hour of our discharge and freedom be, from so troublesome
an associate! Which upon no other account, than that of duty
towards the Author of our beings, one would more endure;
than to have the most noisome offensive vermin always preying
upon his flesh. At least, (though the consideration of our own
MAN AS MORTAL:
312
advantage had no place with us in this matter,) the same sense
of duty towards our great Creator, which should make us pa-
tient of an abode in the body while he will have it so, should
also form our spirits to a willing departure when it shall be his
pleasure to release us thence. But, that neither a regard to his
pleasure, nor our own blessedness, should prevail against our
love to the body, is the unaccountable thing I speak of. And
to plead only, in the case, the corruption of our natures that
sets us at odds with God and ourselves, is to justify the thing by
what is itself most unjustifiable; or rather (as some that have af-
fected to be styled philosophers have been wont to expedite dif-
ficulties, by resolving the matter into the usual course of nature)
to resolve the thing into itself, and say, it is so, because it is so,
or is wont to be; and indeed, plainly to confess there is no ac-
count to be given of it. This being the very thing about which
we expostulate, that reasonable nature should so prevaricate.
The commonness whereof doth not take away the wonder, but
rather render it more dreadful and astonishing.
The truth is, the incongruity in the present case is only to be
solved by redress; by earnest strivings with God, and our own
souls, till we find ourselves recovered into a right mind; into
the constitution and composure whereof a generous fortitude
hath a necessary ingrediency; that usually upon lower motives
refuses no change of climate, and will carry a man into unknown
countries, and through greatest hazards in the pursuit of honor-
able enterprizes, of a much inferior kind. It is reckoned a
brave and manly thing, to be in the temper of one's mind a citi-
zen of the world, (meaning it of this lower one :) but why not
rather of the universe? And it is accounted mean and base,
that one should be so confined by his fear or sloth to that spot of
ground where he was born, as not upon just inducement to look
abroad, and go for warrantable and worthy purposes (yea, if it
were only honest self-advantage) as far as the utmost ends of
the earth but dare we not venture a little farther? These are
too narrow bounds for a truly great spirit. Any thing that is
tinctured with earth, or savors of mortality, we should reckon
too mean for us; and not regret it, that heaven and immortality
are not to be attained but by dying; so should the love of our
own souls, and the desire of a perpetual state of life, triumph
over the fear of death. But it may be alleged by some, that it
is only a solicitous love to their souls, that makes them dread
this change. They know it will not fare with all alike here-
after, and know not what their own lot shall be. And is this
indeed our case? Then, what have we been doing all this
while? And how are we concerned to lose no more time?
But too often a terrene spirit lurks under this pretence; and
men allege their want of assurance of heaven, when the love of
:
VOL. I.
40
314
THE VANITY OF
this earth, which they cannot endure to think of leaving, holds
their hearts.
And, (a little to discuss this matter,) what would we have to
assure us? Do we expect a vision or a voice? Or are we not
to try ourselves; and search for such characters in our own souls,
as may distinguish and note us out for heaven? Among these,
what can be more clear and certain than this, that we have our
hearts much set upon it? They that have their conversations
in heaven, may from thence expect the Saviour, who shall change
their vile bodies (the bodies of their humiliation, or low abject
state,) and make them like his own glorious body. Phil. 3. 20.
21. God, who will render to every man according to his works,
will give them that by patient continuance in well-doing seek
honor and glory and immortality, eternal life. Rom. 2. 6. 7.
They that set their affections (or minds) on the things above,
not those on the earth, when Christ shall appear, who is their
life, shall appear with him in glory. Col. 3. 2. 3. 4. Mistake
not the notion of heaven, or the blessedness of the other world;
render it not to yourselves a composition of sensual enjoyments;
understand it (principally) to consist in perfect holiness and
communion with God, (as his own word represents it, and as
reason hath taught even some pagans to reckon of it;) and you
cannot judge of your own right by a surer and plainer rule, than
the eternal blessedness shall be theirs, whose hearts are truly
bent and directed towards it. Admit we then this principle;
and now let us reason with ourselves from it: we have a disco-
very made to us of a future state of blessedness in God, not as
desirable only in itself, but as attainable and possible to be en-
joyed, (the Redeemer having opened the way to it by his blood,
and given us, at once, both the prospect and the offer of it,) so
that it is before us as the object of a reasonable desire. Now
either our hearts are so taken with this discovery, that we above
all things desire this state, or not. If they be, we desire it more
than our earthly stations and enjoyments, are willing to leave the
world and the body to enjoy it; and so did falsely accuse our-
selves of a prevailing aversion to this change. If they be not,
the thing is true, that we are upon no terms willing to die: but
the cause is falsely or partially assigned. It is not so much be-
cause we are unassured of heaven, but (as was above suspected)
because we love this world better, and our hearts centre in it as
our most desirable good.
Therefore we see how unreasonable this is often said, we are
nnwilling to change states, because we are unassured. The
truth is, they are unassured, because they are unwilling; and
what then ensues? They are unwilling because they are un-
willing. And so they may endlessly dispute themselves round,
from unwillingness to unwillingness. But is there no way to
get out of this unhappy circle? In order to it, let the case be
MAN AS MORTAL.
315
more fully understood: either this double unwillingness must be
referred to the same thing, or to divers: if to the same thing, it
is not sense; they say what signifies nothing; for being to as-
sign a cause of their unwillingness to quit the body, to say, be-
cause they are unwilling, (namely, of that,) is to assign no
cause, for nothing can be the cause of itself: but if they refer
to divers things, and say, they are unwilling to go out of the
body, because they are unwilling to forsake earth for heaven;
the case is then plain, but sad, and not alterable, but with the
alteration of the temper of their spirits. Wherefore let us all
apply ourselves (since with none this is so fully done, that no
more is needful) to the serious endeavor of getting our souls
purged from the dross of this world, and enamored of the purity
and blessedness of heaven, so the cause and effect will vanish
together; we shall find that suitableness and inclination in our
spirits to that blessedness as may yield us the ground of a com-
fortable persuasion that it belongs to us; and then, not be un-
willing, though many deaths stood in our way, to break through
to attain it.
BIOGRAPHY
OF
DR. WILLIAM BATES.
The author of the Discourses on the Four last things, which
occupy the remainder of this volume, was DR. WILLIAM BATES.
Of his general claims to the remembrance both of scholars and
of christians we have abundant evidence, not only in his works,
but in the very high estimation, in which he was held by the
best men of all parties among his contemporaries. Probably no
one of the non-conformist divines of his age was so generally
popular, or sustained so high a reputation as a writer, especially
in regard to his style and manner; and yet the biographical no-
tices preserved respecting him are peculiarly scanty. The fol-
lowing sketch comprises all the important facts, which I have
been able to discover.
We
Dr. Bates was born Nov. 1625, of respectable parents, his
father being a physician and an author of some eminence.
have no farther account of him, except that he received a suita-
ble school education, till his entrance at the university. He was
sent to Cambridge and admitted first, though the year is not men-
tioned, of Emanuel College, from which he removed to Kings in
1644. He commenced Bachelor of Arts in 1647 at the age of 22,
and applying himself to the study of divinity, soon became a distin-
guished and popular preacher. From this time he seems to have
enjoyed the favor of all parties, as a man of great learning, tal-
ents and piety, till after the restoration of Charles II. At some
period during this interval he became fixed as a preacher in the
metropolis, being made vicar, and receiving the valuable living, of
St. Dunstan's in the West. He continued to discharge the du-
ties of his station till 1662, when the celebrated act of uniformily
occasioned his removal. Believing that he could not consistent-
ly with his duty conform to the requirements of this act, he
surrendered his living and preached a farewell sermon to his
318
BIOGRAPHY OF
people, Aug. 17th of that year. Of his residence or employ-
inents immediately after this event no definite account is given.
We find him in 1665 taking the oath required of non-conformists
by the five-mile act, and it seems not to have been many years
after he left his charge at St. Dunstan's till he became settled
over a dissenting congregation at Hackney near London, where
he spent the remainder of his life.
Apart from his more ordinary employment and influence as a
minister of the gospel, Dr. Bates acted a conspicuous and impor-
tant part in relation to the more general and public interests of
religion. He was among those ministers, who took an active
part in the restoration of Charles II. and was so distinguished in
the view of that monarch as to be made soon after one of his
chaplains in ordinary. By royal mandate, issued in November
of the same year, he was admitted to the degree of Doctor in
Divinity at Cambridge university. Subsequently the Deanery
of Coventry and Litchfield was offered to him, but refused from
conscientious scruples; and so high did his character stand at
this time, that it is said he might have had any Bishoprick in the
kingdom, would his principles have permitted an entire conform-
ity to the established church.
In the various efforts that were made to effect a reconciliation
of parties, and comprehend the dissenters within the establish-
ment, Dr. Bates was much consulted, and took a very active
part. He was one of the commissioners at the Savoy confer-
ence in 1660; and when three of the commissioners on each side
were selected to discuss certain points in dispute more particu-
larly, he was chosen on the part of the Presbyterians, together
with Mr. Baxter and Dr. Jacomb. During the whole of this de-
bate he is said to have conducted himself with great wisdom and
moderation, and to have spoken so "very solidly, judiciously,
and pertinently," as to procure great respect from his brethren.
When again, in 1667-8, a treaty was proposed, by some of the
more moderate in the establishment, for a comprehension of such
of the Dissenters as could be brought into the church, and at
toleration of the rest, Dr. Bates was one of those appointed by
the dissenters to draw up a scheme of the alterations which they
desired. In the same year we find him concerned with Drs.
Manton and Jacomb in presenting an address to the king, with
a view to obtain relief for the non-conformists, but without any
ultimate success. He was again engaged in 1674 or 5 in the
promotion of peace; and by their request, in company with
some of his associates, had an interview with Tillotson and Stil-
lingfleet for this purpose. In these men he found a congenial
spirit, and terms were agreed upon; but other bishops opposing,
the movement was unsuccessful.
>
In the mean time the strength of his principles was tried, not
only by the loss or abandonment of his higher hopes in the
DR. WILLIAM BATES.
319
church, but by his exposure to those severe persecutions, which
occasionally prevailed against the dissenters. He seems not,
like Mr. Baxter, however, to have been ever imprisoned, or
otherwise deprived of his personal liberty, though he fearlessly
exposed himself to the displeasure of the persecutors.
The accession of William and Mary placed the dissenters in
more favorable circumstances; and the part which Dr. Bates was
called to act on this and subsequent occasions, shows the place
which he still held among them. The dissenting ministers in
London and the neighborhood being assembled for the purpose
of congratulating their majesties on their accession to the crown,
Dr. Bates was chosen as speaker, and addressed each of them in
a manner suited to the occasion. On the death of the queen
also he preached a funeral sermon, which is preserved among his
works, and presented to the bereaved monarch an address of
condolence on behalf of his dissenting brethren. He seems to
have been, on all important occasions, the most approved organ
of the dissenters in their intercourse with the court and the es-
tablished church; and was on terms of intimacy and friendship
with Dr. Tillotson, which continued to the death of that distin-
guished prelate. Among the dissenters, he was closely and
confidentially associated with Baxter, Manton, Jacomb, Howe
and other leading men, till one by one these eminent divines,
who had formed so bright a constellation during the latter half of
the 17th century, were removed to a better world.
Dr. Bates seems to have experienced little of the usual infir-
mities of age in regard to his intellectual powers, even to the close
of his life. His memory, says Howe, was admirable, and never
failed, that any one could observe, not impaired by his great
age of 74. He still took his turn at one of those public Lec-
tures, which the leading ministers of the day kept up by preach-
ing in rotation, and was himself to have preached the Tuesday
lecture at Salter's Hall in London, on the day, when Howe was
unexpectedly called there to preach his funeral sermon. He
died at Hackney the death of the righteous, on the 14th of Ju-
ly, 1699, in the 74th year of his age.
Of the person and character of Dr. Bates we have a valuable
description, in the funeral sermon above mentioned, by Howe,
who enjoyed, as he tells us, "the opportunity and great plea-
sure of his acquaintance above forty years." He speaks here
of his "graceful mien and the comeliness of his person," fitting
him "to stand before kings," as he had often occasion to do.
"His aspect and deportment," he adds, "was not austere, but
both decently grave and amiable, such as might command at
once both reverence and love, and was herein not a lying, but
a true picture of his mind." "His natural endownments and
abilities appeared to every observer great, much beyond the
common rate. His apprehension-quick and clear; his reasoning
320
BIOGRAPHY OF
faculty-acute, prompt, and expert; his judgment—penetrat-
ing and solid, stable and firm; his wit-never vain or light,
but most facetious and pleasant, by the ministry of a fancy both
very vigorous and lively.
"His learning, and acquired knowledge of things, usually
reckoned to lie within that compass, was a vast treasure. He
had lived a long, studious life, an earnest gatherer, and, as the
phrase is, devourer of books," yet, "he knew how to choose,
and was curious in his choice."
His conversation is represented by Howe, as uncommonly in-
teresting and useful, seasoned, as occasion served, with facetious
pleasantry, enriched by his ample and varied stores of know-
ledge, but "interwoven with religion from the settled temper
and habit of his soul. Into what transports of admiration of
the love of God have I seen him break forth! With what high
flights of thought and affection was he wont to speak of the hea-
venly state! even like a man much more of kin to that other
world than to this."
“And for his ministerial qualifications and labors," he pro-
ceeds, "do I need to say any thing to themselves, who had the
benefit thereof? Either of them, who have so many years lived
under his most fruitful, enlightening, quickening, edifying min-
istry? whether week by week as his beloved, peculiarly privi-
leged charge at Hackney, that mournful, desolate people, who
have been fed with the heavenly, hidden manna, and with the
fruits of the tree of life, that grows in the midst of the Paradise
of God, so prepared and presented to them, and made pleasant
to their taste, as few besides have ever had. Or do I need to
inform such inhabitants of London, as in a doubled three month-
ly course have for many years, in throng-assembly, been wont to
hang upon his lips?"
As a writer, he seems to have been much admired by his
contemporaries; and Howe applies to him the remark made by
Bishop Wilkins of Mr. Baxter, "that he cultivated every sub-
ject he handled, and had he lived in an age of the Fathers he
would have been one." He was particularly celebrated for the
elegance of his style, which was considered "even inimitably
polite and fine." In this respect he probably approaches nearer,
than almost any other distinguished writer of the age, to our
more modern standards of taste in writing.
His theoretical and practical views of divine truth and of
per-
sonal piety will be found to coincide in all important points with
those of Baxter, Howe, and the other divines, with whom he
was associated. He was less bold in speculation, apparently, than
either Baxter or Howe; and in unfolding the principles of prac-
tical piety he derives less aid than they do from the general
principles of philosophy. He is consequently less profound in
his views of religion, considered subjectively; and was not led,
DR. WILLIAM BATES.
321
1
as Howe was, more especially by his fondness for Platonism, to
develope its psychological relations, and turn the attention of his
readers immediately to their own inward being.
"His judgment in ecclesiastical matters, says Howe, was to
be known by his practice, and it was such, that he needed not
care who knew it. He was for entire union of all visible chris-
tians, (or saints or believers, which in scripture are equivalent
terms,)-meaning by Christianity what is essential thereto,
whether doctrinal or practical, as by humanity we mean what is
essential to man, severing accidents as not being of the essence,
and by visibility the probable appearance thereof,-and for free
communion of all such of whatever persuasion in extra-essen-
tial matters, if they pleased. And this design he vigorously pur-
sued, as long as there was any hope, desisting when it appeared
hopeless, and resolving to wait till God should give a spirit suit-
able thereto; from an apprehension, that when principles on all
hands were so easily accommodable, and yet there was with too
many a remaining insuperable reluctancy to the thing itself,
God must work the cure, and not men. Accounting also in the
mean time, that notwithstanding misrepresentations, it was bet-
ter to cast a mantle over the failings of brethren, than be con-
cerned to detect and expose them. Knowing that if we be prin-
cipally solicitous for the name of God, he will in his own way
and time take care of ours.
And in this sentiment he was not
alone."
The works published by Dr. Bates during his life, were the fol-
lowing. 1. Discourses on the existence of God, the immortality
of the soul, and the divinity of the Christian religion. 2. The
Harmony of the Divine attributes. 3. The great duty of resig-
nation. 4. The danger of prosperity. 5. Sermons on the for-
giveness of sins. 6. The sure trial of uprightness. 7. The
Four last things. 8. Of spiritual perfection. 9. Eleven ser-
mons on several occasions. 10. A sermon on the death of
Queen Mary. 11. Funeral sermons on Dr. Manton, Dr. Ja-
comb, Mr. Baxter, Mr. Clarkson and Mr. Benjamin Ashhurst.
12. Discourses on divine meditation. 13. On the fear of God.
These were collected and republished soon after his death in
one volume folio, and afterwards a posthumous work on the Ev-
erlasting Rest of the Saints, in an octavo volume. A second
edition was published in 1723, including the whole of these,
and his funeral sermon by Mr. Howe, in one volume folio. An
octavo edition was published at London, in 1815. Besides these
he was concerned as editor in collecting and publishing the lives
of eminent persons written by various authors in Latin, and en-
titled, "Vitæ Selectorum aliquot Virorum, qui doctrina, digni-
tate, aut pietate inclaruere." London, 1681. 4to.
The discourses on the Four last things have been selected for
this work, as being on the whole best adapted to the object
VOL. I.
41
322
BIOGRAPHY OF DR. WILLIAM BATES.
which I have in view. They exhibit a bold and impressive view
of the tendencies and the ultimate ends of our beings, and I
trust may be found instrumental in promoting that rational con-
templation of divine truth, and that deep seriousness, which dis-
tinguished the christians of that age-which are so much needed
in our own--and which in every age are the appropriate charac-
teristics of rational beings and especially of christians.
THE EDITOR.
THE
FOUR LAST THINGS:
NAMELY:
DEATH, JUDGMENT, HEAVEN AND HELL,
PRACTICALLY CONSIDERED AND APPLIED:
IN SEVERAL DISCOURSES.
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
RACHEL LADY RUSSEL.
Of all affairs, for the compassing whereof men are so diligent
and solicitous, there is none of that absolute necessity, and high
importance, as the preparation for Death and Judgment, and the
immediate consequence of them, Heaven and Hell, to obtain the
one, and escape the other. This requires the whole man in his
best vigor, and should be the work of the day; but 'tis usually
delayed till the melancholy evening of age, or the twilight of
death. The trifles of this world divert them from that main
business, to which all other things should be subordinate. It
equally deserves wonder and compassion, that death which is
so constantly in men's view, should be so seldom the matter of
their application, when all are of the same glass, made of the
same frail natural principles; and no argument is more frequent-
ly and pathetically urged upon them.
'Tis not strange that deep truths, which by the strength and
exercise of the mind are drawn like gold out of the mines, have
no efficacy upon those that are not capable of understanding
them: But the doctrines of Death and Judgment, Heaven and
Hell, are plain truths, by natural, moral, and divine evidence
known to all; yet no more affect men, than a paradox of incre-
dible novelty. If the doctrine of eternal Judgment were but
a probable opinion, controverted with equal arguments, yet 'tis
a matter of such vast concernment, that reason requires all our
possible diligence to avoid an eternal evil, that may be the loss
of celestial glory, and the torments of Hell: But since 'tis an
infallible truth, as certain as the word of God, 'tis a miracle to
astonish Heaven and earth, that men live as carelessly as if they
should never die, and die as securely as if they should not live
in the next state, to receive the just punishment of their sins.
They are fearless whilst death is far off in their thoughts; and
when age has snowed upon their heads, that no marks of decay-
ing nature should appear, make their own winter to flourish with
326
THE EPISTLE
another's spring: But 'tis in vain, for Death knows them under
their disguise, and will not stay beyond the appointed time.
And in that decisive hour, infidelity or presumption hardens men
to pass as quietly and boldly, in appearance, into another world,
as unfeigned faith, and a regular lively hope in the promises of
the gospel. But as deceitful physic stops the fit for the present,
that will return more violently and fatally afterwards; so a
counterfeit short peace transmits them to everlasting sorrows.
The design of the following DISCOURSE is to awaken men,
that they may be wise and consider their latter end; to secure
an interest in our Redeemer, who has disarmed death of its sting,
and made that enemy our friend; and to practice dying every
day, by withdrawing their hearts from the vanities of this
transient world, that have such a pernicious influence to ex-
cite the carnal appetites, and stupify the conscience, which
are the true causes of their sin and misery. And what can
be more powerful to render them temperate and sober in the
use of present things, vigilant and serious in their preparations for
their great and final change, than the remembrance that death is
immediately attended with judgment, and judgment with bless-
edness or misery forever? I know this argument is naturally dis-
pleasing, but the usefulness should recommend it to our most so-
lemn and composed thoughts, before all the vain entertainments
of the fancy and sensual affections. As herbs of medicinal virtue,
that are not pleasing to the sight or smell, yet are valued by the
skilful as treasures of health; and preferred before the fairest flow-
ers that are perfumed and painted by nature, so as to excel the
richest lusture of Solomon's glory.
The body is in a continual consumption, and no art can long pre-
serve it but whilst the outward man is irrecoverably declining
and wasting, if the inward man be ascending and renewing to
perfection, the advantage is incomparable. O how comfortable
is it to a holy believer in the parting hour to commit his spirit
into the hands of his heavenly father! (for thus he is authorized
and encouraged by our Saviour's example) and lay down the flesh
to rest in hope: for Christ is the guardian of the grave, has the
keys of death, and will revive the bodies of his saints incorrupt-
ible and immortal, the copies of his own glorious body..
The immediate recompenses of eternal judgment, Heaven and
Hell, are worthy of our most attentive and applicative thoughts,
that we obtain the one, and escape the other. Heaven is the
true happiness of the reasonable creature, and is the first and
last in the order of things desirable; the first for its attractive
excellence, the last in its consummate fi uition. This may be
certainly and perpetually enjoyed by all who sincerely and dili-
gently seek it. If in the very different states of life here, there
were any uncapable of eternal life, or that have another object
for their last end, there might be some reason why they should
DEDICATORY.
327
be coldly affected towards celestial happiness, and to justify their
sole pretensions to the things of time, wherein their interests
are confined: But the offer of heaven regards all that upon
God's terms will accept it. The most sensible inequality that
riches, dignity, or any temporal accident makes between men
here, is so true a nothing in comparison of eternal glory, that it
makes no difference of one from another as to the obtaining it.
For this reason it most nearly concerns every person, first to
seek the kingdom of heaven, and the righteousness thereof, as
the only way to ascend to it.
The serious consideration of everlasting hell prepared for un-
reformed sinners, is most necessary and useful, tho' carnal men
are extremely averse from thinking on that terrible object. For
this is the first motive that turns men from sin to holiness. The
joys of heaven being spiritual and divine, have no attractive in-
fluence upon the carnal affections, would never convert and re-
form any; but the torment of fire being most evident and vehe-
ment to sense, is strongly represented by the imagination, and
moves the affections. How many by solemn and believing
thoughts of the unquenchable fire, have felt the miracle upon the
three children in the furnace renewed in themselves, their strong
cords and obstinate habits of sin burnt asunder, and their pow-
ers restored to the freedom of duty, the blessed liberty of obe-
dience? In this respect the fear of the Lord is the beginning
of wisdom, that directs us in the way to blessedness.
Madam, I shall not attempt the celebrating your ladyship's
virtues, that render you a bright ornament of your sex, and
more truly honorable than your noble descent and alliance:
But direct my best desires to God, that your family may be a
singular and eminent example of the divine favor; that the
fading gloss of this world may not deceive you, but your heart
may be above, where your treasure is; that you may live to God,
and your soul, for heaven and eternity.
I am, MADAM,
Your Honor's very humble.
And faithful servant,
WILLIAM BATES.
OF DEATH.
i
HEB. II. 15.
And deliver them, who through fear of death were all their life-
time subject to bondage.
CHAPTER I.
The coherence of the text opened; wherein the proofs of the Eternal Deity
of Christ are clearly alledged from scripture. An account given of the
reasons of his incarnation. In what respects the Devil is said to have the
power of death. The death of Christ frees his people from the torment-
ing fear of death. An account of death's entrance into the world, in a
threefold respect.
In the first chapter of this epistle, the proofs of the eternal
Deity of Christ are produced with that evidence of scripture-
light, that only a veiled heart, obstinate infidelity can resist.
The medium which the inspired penman makes use of, is, the
comparing him with the angels, the most noble flower of the
creation, and shewing that he is infinitely dignified above them.
This he does by a strong connexion of arguments: First, by
his title that is divinely high and peculiar to himself. He is de-
clared by the testimony of the eternal Father to be his Son,
ver. 4, 5. in the most proper and sublime sense: begotten of
him, and therefore having the same essential perfections of the
Godhead in their uncreated glory. But the angels are not dig-
nified with this name in any places of scripture, where the ex-
cellency of the angels is in the fullest terms expressed. And
that this name is taken from his nature, is clearly proved:
because adoration is due to him upon this account, even from the
angels of the highest order. When he bringeth in the first be-
gotten into the world, he saith, and let all the angels of God
worship him, ver. 6.
Divine worship is a prerogative inseparably annexed to the
Deity, both upon the account of the supreme excellencies of
the nature of God and his relation to angels and men as creator
and preserver, the fountain of their being and happiness. This,
VOL. I.
42
330
OF DEATH.
without the most open defiance of his authority, cannot be given
to a mere creature; and by the command of God himself is to
be performed as a respect due to the filial Godhead, Deut. 6. 13.
and 10. 20. The argument proceeds from the name to the offices.
Of the angels he saith, Who maketh his angels spirits, and his
ministers a flame of fire, ver. 7. They are the prime instru-
ments of his providence, most zealous and active to accomplish
his pleasure. But the Son is God, not by analogy and deputa-
tion, as princes are, nor with a limitation and diminution, as Mo-
ses was made a God to Pharaoh, but absolutely and really as
subsisting in the divine nature and consequently he is the su-
preme king, and to him the ensigns of majesty divinely royal are
ascribed: But unto the Son he saith, Thy throne, O God, is for
ever and ever; a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy
kingdom, ver. 8. Whereas the sceptres of earthly kings are of-
ten unrighteously managed, and their thrones ruinously fall.
There is a further confirmation from his works, that are divinely
great and glorious, wherein no creature has any share of Effi-
ciency. The making of the world is ascribed to him: Thou,
Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth, and
the heavens are the works of thy hands, ver. 10.
:
The divine attributes, the peculiar character of the Deity, be-
long to him: eternity and immutability. The most solid parts
of the visible creation shall perish and be changed: But thou re-
mainest, and art the same. His life is an entire, uniform, un-
changeable perfection. His glory and felicity are in the same
invariable tenor for ever possessed by him. Lastly, the Son sits
in that quality at the right hand of the Father, ver. 13. in the
society of empire, as equal to him in power and honor, com-
manding all in the visible and invisible world, most easily and
irresistibly, though gradually, subduing his enemies to a consum-
mate victory. But the angels, so numerous and powerful, are
ministering spirits, ver. 14. employed for the defence and bene-
fit of the Church.
From this summary account we may understand how firmly
the Divinity of Christ is established in the scripture. For those
passages of the prophets, that speak of the God of Israel as
creator, and the sole object of adoration, are directly refer-
red to Jesus Christ. And the name Jehovah, Psal. 97. 9. the
majesty of which consists in its being incommunicable, is attribut-
ed to him. This is the foundation upon which the whole fa-
bric of the gospel is built. The office of mediator in the pro-
phetical, priestly, and regal administration, is necessarily joined
with the divinity of his person. And the revelation of it from
heaven, is as clear as the sun is visible in the firmament. All
the difficulties in our conceiving this great mystery of Godliness,
are but like the shadows that attend the light. And all the
heretical subtilties to pervert the sense of such plain and posi-
tive texts, are as impertinent as impious.
OF DEATH.
331
This being established, the apostle proceeds to give an ac-
count of the Son of God's assuming the human nature, and sub-
mitting to sufferings and death. This is a divine secret so mi-
raculously strange, that the contrivance was without the compass
of the angelical minds, and the discovery of it is only by super-
natural revelation; but when revealed, the account of it is so
open and consentaneous to reason, as being the most congruous
means for the illustration of God's glory in the saving lost men,
that the human mind, if not deeply corrupted with the tincture
of prejudice, must consent to it as "worthy of all acceptation."
The substance of his reasoning is this: That it was the pro-
duct of the most wise, merciful, and righteous counsel of God,
that the Saviour of men should have communion with them in
their nature, that he might have a right to redeem them by his
alliance and propinquity: for he that sanctifies, and they that
are sanctified, are all one, Chap. 2. 11. and that he might under-
go sufferings, even to death, for the price of their redemption,
and the remedy of their infirmities. "Forasmuch as the children
are partakers of flesh and blood, he also likewise took part of
the same, that through death he might destroy him that had the
power of death, that is, the devil: And deliver them who
through fear of death, were all their lives subject to bondage."
The devil is said to have the power of death:
1. Because he induces men to commit sin, that meritoriously
renders them liable to death. He tempted the first man cum
effectu, and "was a murderer from the beginning."
2. In that he inspires them with furious thoughts, and inflames
their passions, from whence proceed strifes and wars, that effi-
ciently cause death. He is supreme in all the arts of mischief,
and always intent upon evil. It is by his instigation that men
become more like raging beasts, animated and bent on mutual
slaughter.
3. Because he is many times the executioner of God's wrath,
and inflicts death upon rebellious and incorrigible sinners. It is
recorded by the Psalmist, That God cast upon the Egyptians the
fierceness of his anger, wrath, indignation, and trouble, by send-
ing evil angels, Psal. 78. 49. those princes of the air, the instru-
ments of the thunder, and fiery storms of hail that destroyed
them.
4. Because he makes death more formidable to sinners, by
heightening their guilty fears of God's tribunal. The false spir-
it tempts men to sin by many blandishments, but afterward he is
a severe accuser of them to God, and to themselves.
Lastly, This title may signify his tormenting sinners with un-
relenting cruelty in hell, which is the second death.
Now these evils being the penal consequence of sin, our Sav-
iour by his death appeased the injured justice of God, and there-
by destroyed the cruel tyranny of the Devil. As the lamb of
God, in the notion of a sacrifice, he overcomes our spiritual en-
332
OF DEATH.
emies. Sin, Satan and death, lie vanquished at the foot of his
cross. Besides, our Saviour having felt such sorrows and in-
firmities as are usual to his people, by that correspondence and
resemblance between them, is compassionately inclined to re-
lieve them.
I shall now insist upon the blessed privilege of believers set
down in the text, viz.
That Jesus Christ by his death frees his people from the ser-
vile, tormenting fear of death.
In prosecuting the point, I shall, 1. Consider the account the
scripture gives of death's entrance into the world. 2. Shew
what the fear of death includes, and the bondage consequent to'
.it. 3. How the death of Christ frees us from the thraldom of
that fear. 4. Who are partakers of this blessed privilege. And
then apply it.
I. The scripture gives an account of death's entrance into the
world, in a threefold respect. 1. As the desert of sin. 2. As
the effect of the divine decree. 3. As the sentence of the law.
1. As the desert of sin. The first design of the Creator was
his own glory in conjunction with the happiness of man.
He
was made accordingly holy in perfection, placed in Paradise, and
his state contained all the ingredients of felicity proper to his
nature. He was capable of dying, as sad experience proves; yet
no accident from without, no distemper from within had im-
paired his vigor, and made him actually subject to death with-
out sin. Whilst innocent he was immortal, not from everlasting
principles of nature, but by divine preservation; of which the
tree of life was the ordained means and sacramental pledge.
For God unchangeably loves his own image: And though by
his sovereignty and absolute power he may resume the being he
gives, yet his goodness and covenant were a sacred assurance
that man's happy life should run parallel with his perseverance
in his duty. This immortality was not the singular privilege of
Adam's person, but had been the inheritance of all his progeny.
But he soon revolting from his just obedience, of immortal be-
came mortal, and according to the original establishment of pro-
pagation, transmitted his nature, with the guilt and poison of sin
to all his posterity. Thus by one man sin entered into the
world, and death by sin, and so death passed upon all men, for
that all have sinned, Rom. 3. 12. As his obedience had been
rewarded, so his rebellion is punished in all that naturally de-
scend from him. From hence it is, that so numerous a part of
mankind are cut off before the commission of actual sin. Death
enters into the forge of life, and destroys the conception that
newly began to live. And what is more righteous than that
man, when he disobeyed the author of life, should forfeit his
life and blessedness? The soul voluntarily lost the spiritual life,
by forsaking God, therefore unwillingly loses the natural life, by
OF DEATH.
333
expulsion from the body. The Apostle says, the wages of sinis
death, Rom. 6. 23. not only that of the body, but the death of the
soul, which is a dreadful concomitant of it. And from hence we
may discover the false philosophy of the wisest heathens in their
opinion of death. They judged it to be the primary necessity
and condition of nature, fixed by irresistible fate: And not un-
derstanding the true and just reason of its coming into the
world, they could not apply a sufficient remedy against its evil.
2. As the effect of the divine decree respecting sin. This is
discovered by revelation in the word of God, and the real exe-
cution of it. It is appointed to men once to die, Heb. 9. 27.
This decree is universal and unrepealable. One generation
passeth away, and another generation cometh: Eccles. 1. 4. like
the ebbing and flowing of the sea in its stated periods. Nothing
can interrupt or frustrate this appointment. There are divers
conditions of men, and various ways of living in the world;
some are high in dignity, others are level with the earth: Some
walk in a carpet way, smooth and easy, others in a thorny and
troublesome: Some walk on the golden sands, others on the
mire: But the same uncontrolable necessity of dying involves
all. And whatever the way be, whether pleasant or doleful,
yet every one passes with equal steps, measured by the same
invariable spaces of hours and days, and arrives at the same com-
mon end of life. Those who are regarded as visible deities.
amongst men, that can by their breath raise the low, and depress
the lofty, that have the lives of millions in their power; yet
when the ordained time is come, as they cannot bribe the accus-
ing conscience for a minute's silence, so neither delay death.
"I have said ye are Gods, but ye shall die like men."
3. Death is to be considered as the sentence of the law.
The reasonable creature was made under a law, the rule of his
actions. The moral law directed him how to continue in his
holy and blessed state: To which was annexed the precept of
not eating of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, only as a
mark of his subjection, and for the trial of his obedience. This
precept had an infallible sanction by the most high lawgiver: in
the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt die the death, Gen. 2. 17.
Man did not keep this command of so easy observation, and
justly incurred its doom. As sin is the violation of the law, so
death is the violation of the sinner in his nature and felicity re-
torted from the law.
The deaths of men are very different in their kinds; and are
comprised in the words of David concerning Saul: The Lord shall
smite him, or his day shall come to die, or he shall descend into
the battle, and perish, 1 Sam. 26. 10. Sometimes they are cut
off by the immediate flaming hand of God, for the more exem-
plary revenge of sin; sometimes by surprising accidents; some-
times by bloody contentions; sometimes by consuming diseases.
334
OF DEATH.
But though death be not uniform, it is always the execution of
the law upon offenders. As of those who are condemned by hu-
man justice, some suffer a more easy and honorable death, others
a more disgraceful and torturing; some are beheaded, others are
crucified, yet all die as malefactors. Thus some die a natural
death, others a violent; some by a gentle preparing sickness,
without reluctation, others die upon the rack, by sharp pains:
Some die attended with their friends, and all supplies to sweeten
their passage, others forsaken of all comforts: Yet death is the
same sentence of the law upon all men. And this, if duly con-
sidered, makes it terrible in whatever shape it appears.
CHAPTER II.
What the fear of death includes. The passion of fear in general considered.
The special causes that make death so fearful. It is an evil universally
known. It is certainly future. The bondage of men from the fear of
death. The reason why men are not always under the actual fear of
death.
II. The next thing to be considered is, what the fear of death
includes, and the bondage that is consequent to it. This I shall
explain and amplify, by considering four things.
1. The nature of fear in general, as applicable to the present
subject. 2. The particular causes that render death so fearful.
3. The degree of this fear expressed by bondage. 4. How it
comes to pass that men are not always under the actual fear of
death, but subject to the revolutions of it all their lives.
[1.] I will consider the nature of fear in general, as applica-
ble to the present subject.
Fear is a passion implanted in nature, that causes a flight from
an approaching evil. Three things are requisite to qualify the
object, and make it fearful. (1.) The evil must be apprehend-
ed. Knowledge, or at least suspicion, excites fear, by repre-
senting an evil that is likely to seize upon us. Till the mind
discerns the danger, the passions are unmoved: And imaginary
evils, by the mere apprehension, are as strongly feared as real.
(2.) The evil must be future. For the naked theory of the
most pernicious evil does not wound the soul, but the apprehen-
sion of falling under it. If reason can open an expedient to
prevent an evil, this passion is quiet. And fear precisely re-
gards its object, as to come. Present evils induce grief and
sorrow: Past evils by reflection affect with joy, and give a
quicker relish to present felicity. Approaching evils alarm us
OF DEATH.
335
with fear. (3.) The evil must be apprehended as prevalent to
make it fearful. For if by comparison we find our strength su-
perior, we either neglect the evil for its levity, or determine to
encounter it; and resistance is the proper effect of anger, not of
fear. But when an impendent evil is too hard for us, the soul
shrinks and recoils from it.
Now all these qualifications that make an object fearful, con-
cur in death.
1. It is an evil universally known. The frequent funerals are
a real demonstration that speaks sensibly to our eyes, that death
reigns in the world. On every side death is in our view, and
the shadow of it darkens our brightest days.
2. It is certainly future. All the wretched accidents of this
life, such as concern us in our persons, relations, estates and in-
terests; a thousand disasters that a jealous fear and active fancy
will extend and amplify; as they may, so they may not happen
to us. And from this mixture of contrary possibilities, from the
uncertainty of event, hope, that is an insinuating passion, mixes
with fear, and derives comfort. For as sometimes a sudden
evil surprizes, not forethought of; so often the evil that was
sadly expected, never comes to pass. But what man is he that
lives, and shall not see death? Psal. 89. 4. Who is so vain as
to please himself with an imagination of immortality here?
Though men are distinguished in the condition of living, yet all
are equal in the necessity of dying. Human greatness in every
kind, nobility, riches, empire cannot protect from the sudden
and sovereign hand of death, that overthrows all. The most
conspicuous difference in this world is between the victorious,
and the vanquished prostrate at their feet: But death makes
them equal. Then the wretched captive shall upbraid the proud
conqueror, "Art thou become weak as we? Art thou become like
us? The expressions of scripture concerning the frailty of man,
are often literally and precisely verified: "He is like the grass,
in the morning it flourishes and groweth up, in the evening it is
cut down and withereth."
3. Death is a prevalent insuperable evil: Hence the prover-
bial expression, Strong as death, that subdues all, cruel as the
grave that spares none. It is in vain to struggle with the pangs
of death. No simples in nature, no compositions of art, no in-
fluence of the stars, no power of angels can support the dying
body, or retain the flitting soul. There is no man hath power
over the spirit to retain the spirit; neither hath he power in the
day of death and there is no discharge in that war. Eccles. 8.
8. The body sinks in the conflict; and death feeds on its pros-
trate prey in the grave.
[2.] I shall consider more particularly, the causes that render
death so fearful to man: 1. In the apprehension of nature. 2.
In the apprehension of conscience.
336
OF DEATH.
1. In the apprehension of nature, death has this name engrav-
en in its forehead, Ultimum terribilium, the supreme of terrible
things, upon several accounts.
(1.) Because usually sickness and pains languishing and tor-
menting, make the first changes in the body, and the natural
death is violent. This Hezekiah complained of with a mourn-
ful accent, He will cut me off with pining sickness: from day
even to night thou wilt make an end of me. I reckoned till
morning that as a lion, so will he break all my bones. Isa. 38.
A troop of diseases are the forerunners of this king of terrors.
There is a preceding encounter, and sometimes very fierce, that
nature feels the cruel victory before it yields to this enemy. As
a ship that is tossed by a mighty tempest, and by the concussion
of the winds and waves, loses its rudder and masts, takes in wa-
ter in every part, and gradually sinks into the ocean: So in the
shipwreck of nature, the body is so shaken and weakened by
the violence of a disease, that the senses, the animal and vital
operations decline, and at last are extinguished in death.
+
(2.) Death considered in the strictest propriety, as destruc-
tive of the natural being, that is our first and most valuable
good in the order of nature, is the just object of fear. The un-
ion between soul and body is very intimate and dear, and like
David and Jonathan, they part unwillingly. Nature has a share
in the best men, and works as nature. St. Paul declares, we
would not be unclothed, not finally put off the body, but have it
glorified in conjunction with the soul. Our blessed Saviour,
without the least impeachment of the rectitude and perfection
of his nature, expressed an averseness from death, and with sub-
mission to the divine will, desired a freedom from it. His affec-
tions were holy and human, and moved according to their ob-
jects.
(3.) The natural consequents of death render it fearful. Life
is the foundation of all natural enjoyments; and the loss of it
induces the loss of all forever. It is from hence that such evils
as are consistent with life, and deprive us only of some particu-
lar content and pleasure, are willingly chosen rather than death.
The forfeiture of estate, the degrading from honor, the confine-
ment to a perpetual prison, the banishing from our native coun-
try, are less penalties than death.
There is a natural love of society in man, and death removes
from all. The grave is a frightful solitude. There is no con-
versation in the territories of darkness. This also Hezekiah, in
his apprehensions of death, speaks of with tears: 1 shall see
man no more in the land of the living, Isa. 38, 11. As in the
night the world is an universal grave, all things are in a dead si-
lence; palaces, courts of justice, temples, theatres, schools, and
all places of public conversation are shut up; the noise and ru-
mor that keeps men in continual observation and action ceases.
OF DEATH.
337
Thus when the sun of this present life is set, all the affairs and
business, all the vain joys of company, feasting, dancing, mu-
sic, gaming, ceases. Every one among the dead is confined to
his sealed obscure cell, and is alone an entertainment for the
worms.
The psalmist saith of princes, Their breath goeth forth, they
return to the earth, in that very day their thoughts, their glori-
ous compassing thoughts perish. This the historian observes
was verified in Julius Cæsar: After his assuming the imperial
dignity, he thought to reduce the numerous laws of the Romans
into a few volumes, comprising the substance and reason of all;
to enrich and adorn the city of Rome, as was becoming the re-
gent of the world; to epitomize the works of the most learned
Grecians and Romans for the public benefit. And whilst he was
designing and pursuing these, and other vast and noble things,
death surprized him, and broke off all his enterprizes.
At the terrible gate that opens into eternity, men are stripped
of all their honors and treasures, and as naked as they come in-
to the world, go out of it. Be not thou afraid when one is made
rich, when the glory of his house is increased. For when he
dieth, he shall carry nothing away; his glory shall not descend af-
ter him, Psal. 49. 16. 17. Death equally vilifies, makes loathsome
and ghastly the bodies of men, and reduces them to sordid dust.
In the grave, the dust is as precious and powerful of one, as of
another. Civil distinctions are limited to the present time.
The prodigious statue in Nebuchadnezzar's vision, Dan. 2. 32.
33. 34. 35. while it was upright, the parts were really and visi-
bly distinct The head was of fine gold, the breast and arms of
silver, the belly and thighs of brass, the legs of iron, the feet
part of iron and part of clay; but when the stone cut out without
hands, smote the image upon the feet, then was the iron, the clay,
the brass, the silver, and the gold, broken to pieces together, and
became like the chaff the wind carries away. Who can distin-
guish between royal dust taken out of magnificent tombs, and
plebean dust from common graves? Who can know who were
rich, and who were poor, who had power and command, who
were vassals, who were remarkable by fame, who by infamy?
They shall not say this is Jezebel, 2 Kings 9. 37. not know this
was the daughter and wife of a king. The king of Babylon,
stiled Lucifer, the bright star of the morning, that possessed the
first empire in the world, was degraded by death, humbled to the
grave, and exchanged all his glorious state for worms and putre-
faction. The worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover
thee, Isa. 14. 11. In short, death separates men from all their
admired charming vanities. Now considering men merely in
the order of nature, what reflection is more fearful and torment-
ing, than the necessity, that cannot be overruled, of parting for
ever with all the delights of life? Those who have ascended to
VOL. I.
43
338
OF DEATH.
the throne, that are arrived at the height of temporal happiness,
what a melancholy prospect is before them of death, and the
dark grave? When all things conspire to make men happy here,
the sensitive faculties and their fruitions are ebbing and declin-
ing, till they sink into death, the whirlpool that will shortly
swallow them up for ever. This renders the thoughts of mor-
tality so frightful, and checks the freest enjoyments of carnal
pleasures.
2. Death is fearful in the apprehension of conscience, as it is
the most sensible mark of God's wrath, that is heavier than
death, and a summons to give an account of all things done in
this life, to the righteous judge of the world. It is appointed to
all men once to die, and afterwards the judgment, Heb. 9. 27.
The penal fear is more wounding to the spirit than the natural.
When the awakened sinner presently expects the citation to ap-
pear before the tribunal above, where no excuses, no supplica-
tions, no privileges avail; where the cause of eternal life or
death must be decided, and the awards of justice be immediately
executed; O the convulsions and agonies of conscience in that
hour! When the diseased body cannot live, and the disconso-
late soul dare not die, what anxieties surround it? This redou-
bles the terrors of death, that the first transmits to the second,
that was figured by it. O the dismal aspect of Death riding on
a pale horse, with Hell, the black attendant, following! This
fear surprized the sinners in Sion. "Who among us can dwell
with devouring fire? who among us can remain with everlasting
burnings?" This made a heathen, the Governor of a province, to
tremble before a poor prisoner: While Paul discoursed of right-
eousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled ;
Act. 24. 25. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the
living God, who lives for ever, and can punish for ever; Heb.
10. 31. None is so powerful as God; nothing so fearful as the
guilty conscience.
[3.] The degrees of this fear are expressed by bondage. This
passion, when regular in its object and degree, is excellently
useful; it is a wise counsellor and faithful guardian, that plucks
off the mask from our enemies, and keeps reason vigilant and
active to prevent a threatening evil, or to sustain it in the best
manner. It is observable in the brute creatures, that the weak
and fearful are most subtile and ingenious to secure themselves,
and supply the want of strength with artifice: But when fear is
inordinate, it is a tyrannous master, that vexes the weary soul,
and hinders its free and noble operations. Cæsar chose rather
to be exposed to sudden death, than to be continually harrassed
with fear how to avoid it. The Greek word implies the bind-
ing of the spirit, that causes an inward slavery; And in the Apos-
tle's writing, the spirit of fear and the spirit of bondage are equiva-
lent. Ishbosheth, when Abner (provoked by the charge about
OF DEATH.
339
Saul's concubine) imperiously threatened to translate the king-
dom to David, was struck with such a fear, that he could not an-
swer Abner a word; 2 Sam. 3. 10, 11. the sudden passion stifled
his reply, and reduced him to a defenceless silence. Now the
fear of death, as it is remiss or vehement, such are the degrees
of bondage from it.
1. It imbitters the enjoyments of the present life, and makes
the most prosperous in the world, "even in the fulness of their
sufficiency, to be in straits." Though the senses are pleased with
the quick sweetness of change from one object to another, yet
the soul cannot have a delightful undisturbed fruition, foreseeing
that the streams of pleasure will issue into the dead sea. Truly
light is sweet, and it is a pleasant thing to behold the sun; Eccles.
11, 7. But how short is this life with all its pleasures, in com-
parison of the days of darkness that follow? Now though it is
our best wisdom and truest liberty, to rejoice in this world as if
we rejoiced not, and frequently to meditate on the cooling doc-
trines of death and judgment, to repress the transports of the
voluptuous appetite; yet since the comforts of this are liberally
indulged to us by the love of God, to be the motives of our
grateful and affectionate obedience, to sweeten our passage to
Heaven, we may with tranquillity of spirit make a pure and cheer-
ful use of them in his service: And it is an oppressing bondage,
when the disquieting anxious fears of death hinder our temper-
ate enjoyment of his favors and blessings.
2. The fear of death oppresses the souls of men under a miser-
able bondage to the devil; for his dominion is maintained by the
allurements and terrors of the world. Though men do not ex-
plicitly acknowledge his sovereignty, yet by voluntary yielding
to his pleasing temptations, they are really his slaves: And the
apprehension of temporal evils, especially of death, dressed up
in a frightful representation with his bloody pomp, is the strong-
est snare to the soul. Prov. 29. The faint-hearted prove false-
hearted in the time of trial: For the timorous spirit being whol-
ly intent how to avoid the incursion of a present evil, forgets or
neglects what is indispensably to be done, and thinks to find an
excuse in the pretended necessity. How many have been terri-
fied from their clearest duty, and resolved constancy? To escape
death, they have been guilty of the most insufferable impieties,
by renouncing God their maker and Saviour, and worshipping
the Devils for Deities. Every age presents sad spectacles of
many that choose iniquity rather than affliction, Job 36. 21. that
relinquish their duty, and by wicked compliances save their lives,
and lose their souls. Carnal desires and carnal fears are the
chains of Hell, that retain men Satan's captives: But what folly,
what madness is it, for the avoiding the impotent fury of the
creature, to venture on the powerful wrath of God, that exceeds
all the terrors that can be conceived by fear? This renders them
340
OF DEATH.
f
more brutish than the horse, that starting at his shadow, springs
over a desperate precipice. The fearful are excluded from
heaven, and cast into the lake of fire and brimstone for ever;
Rev. 21.
3. The extreme fear of death aud judgment dejects and dis
courages the soul from the use of means to prevent eternal mis-
ery, and induces a most woful bondage. Fear anticipates and
exasperates future evils; for as knowledge excites fear, so fear
increases knowledge, by the uncessant working of the thoughts
upon terrible objects. The fearful mind aggravates the foreseen
evil, and distils the poison from all the circumstances and conse-
quences of it: And when the evil is apprehended as insupera-
ble and indeclinable, all endeavors to escape are cut off. What
a philosopher observes of an earthquake, compared with other
destructive evils, is true in this case: There may be a safe re-
treat from fire, from inundations, from storms, from war, from
pestilence; but an earthquake astonishes with so violent a per-
turbation, that stops our flight from the imminent danger. So
the vehement impressions of fear from the approaches of death,
and the severe executions upon the sinner after it, distract the
mind, and disable from flying from the wrath to come. These
fears are more heavy by the suggestions of Satan, who repre-
sents God so terrible in his majesty, inexorable in his justice,
and unchangeable in his threatenings, that all hopes of obtaining
his favor are lost. As the Egyptian darkness was not merely
from the absence of the sun, but from feculent vapours condens-
ing the air, that it might be felt; so these dark and fearful expec-
tations of the divine wrath, are not only from the withdrawing
the light of God's countenance, but from the prince of darkness,
that foul spirit. And as we read of the Egyptians, that no man
arose from his place for three days; as if they had been buried
in that darkness, and deprived of all active power and motion:
so the despairing soul sits down mourning at the gates of death,
totally disabled from prosecuting the things that belong to its
peace. It is hope inspires and warms us with alacrity, encoura-
ges our endeavors: despair blunts our edge and industry. The
soul suffers the hardest bondage, and the condition is inexpressi-
bly sad under the tyranny of this fear. O how enthralled, how
desolately miserable! Despair does meritoriously and effectually
ruin the soul. For whereas there is no attribute more divine,
no clearer notion of the Deity than love and mercy; this pas-
sion disparages his mercy, as if sin were more omnipotent than
his power to pardon; and all the tears that flow from it, are so
far from expiating, that they increase guilt: And whereas the
believing view of Christ would as completely and presently re-
cover the soul-wounded sinner, as the Israelites were by look-
ing to the ordained visible sign of their salvation; despair turns
away the eye from our deliverer, and fixes it upon misery as
remediless and final.
OF DEATH..
341
[4.] How comes it to pass, that men are not always under the
actual fear of death, but subject to the revolutions of it all their
lives?
The seeds of this fear are hid in the guilty breasts of men, and
at times especially in their calamities, break forth and kindle up-
on them. In their leisure and retirement, intercurrent thoughts
of death and judgment sting them by fits, and make them uneasy.
The flashes of conscience, like moments of lightning, startle them;
but they relapse into their habitual stupidity: And the account
of it will be clear, by considering the following particulars.
1. Men are apt to flatter themselves with the hopes of long life,
and look upon death at a great distance: though there be a dying
disposition in the youngest and strongest persons, though we live
in a world of casualties, and death lie in ambush to surprize us
every day, yet we are secure; because evils affect us according to
their apprehended nearness. A petty constable that is trouble-
some and vexatious, is more feared by his neigbors, than the
Grand Signior with all his executioners. As remote objects.
though of vast bigness, are lessened to our sight; so through the
supposed interval of many years, death is looked on with a dimi-
nution of its terror. But when death presents itself before men,
ready to dispatch them, how formidable is its appearance! Saul,
though renowned for his valor, yet when he understood by re-
velation, that to-morrow he and his sons should be in the state of
the dead, there was no strength in him, but he fell straitway all
along on the earth; 1 Sam. 28. struck through with fear, before
he was wounded by the arrows of the Philistines. Belshazzar,
in the midst of his luxury and jollity, attended with a thousand
lords, and his herd of concubines, Dan. 5. 1. 2. 3. 4. inflamed
with wine, and therefore less capable of fear; yet upon the
sight of the fatal hand writing on the wall, a few unknown char-
acters, which his guilty conscience (before the prophet Daniel
came) interpreted to be the sentence of the present death, how
fearfully was his countenance changed pale as a carcass? How
suddenly did his blood congeal, and his warmest, quickest, spirits
die in his heart? His whole body was seized by such a vehe-
ment trembling, that his joints were loosed, and his knees smote
one against another. This is a representation of those who bid.
defiance to death at a distance: But when the fatal hour is come,
and they hear the sentence decreed against them, God had num-
bered thy days, and finished them; thou art weighed in the bal-
ance, (all thy words and actions, thy thoughts and affections)
and art found wanting: and thy soul shall be divided from thy
body; the one sent to hell, to suffer the undying worm of con-
science; the other to the grave, to be a prey to the worms of
corruption; how are they overcome with horor!
2. The continual succession of the pleasures and business of
the world divert the mind from the attentive strong contempla-
342
OF DEATH.
tion of death, and the consequences of it. Pensive thoughts
are unwelcome, and we studiously endeavor to cancel the memo-
ry of such things as afflict us. It is said of the wicked, that
God is not in all their thoughts. The consideration of the holy
inspector and judge of their actions is tormenting, therefore they
fill their minds with earthly imaginations, to exclude the divine
presence. We read of those, who to put far away the evil day,
chanted to the sound of the viol, and drank wine in bowls, Amos
6. 3. 4. They are rocked asleep with the motion of fantastic van-
ities. And sleep takes away fear, but gives no safety. It is re-
corded of Marius, by Elian, that after his overthrow by Sylla,
he was always in consternation, as if he heard the sound of the
trumpets, and the noise of the victorious army pursuing him :
And his fears were no longer quiet than whilst charmed with
wine and sleep; he therefore was continually drunk, that he
might forget himself, his enemy, and his danger. Thus men
make a pitiful shift to forget their latter end; and whilst they
are following either secular affairs, or sensual pleasures, are un-
concerned for what is to be hereafter. But this diversion will
shortly be at an end; for in their languishing hours, when the
wasted body fails the carnal mind, and sensual desire fails the
man, then conscience that spoke with a loud voice before, is
loud and terrible, and like the rigid exactor in the parable that
took his debtor by the throat, requires them to pay what they
owe.
4. Some are so hardened in infidelity, that the powers of the
world to come make no impression on their hearts. They mind
but little, and are less affected with invisible things. They for-
tify themselves with gross thoughts, that the spirit of man van-
ishes with his breath, the death is the end of this life, and not
the beginning of another, and feed without fear. Place one in
the midst of destructive evils, but unseen or not believed, and
he is as fearless as a blind person walking on the brink of a deep
pit. Indeed there are none less disturbed with the terrors of
death, than the eminently good, or the extremely bad: For the
one sort have a blessed hope that death will be to them an en-
trance into life, and live like the angels, with a joy unspeakable
and glorious. The others are as sensual and secure as the beasts
that perish, having extinguished the fear of eternal future evils,
which is the proper passion of reason. The apostle declares,
that knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men to be
reconciled to him, before the season of mercy be expired, 2 Cor.
5. 11. But those who have suppressed the natural notions of
eternal judgment, as they think it beneath their wisdom to be
persuaded by the promises of heaven, so beneath their courage
to be terrified with the threatenings of hell, and triumph over the
ruins of conscience. But though wicked infidels slight the
threatenings, they shall not escape the vengeance of God.
OF DEATH.
343
We have read of Noah, that being warned of God of things
not seen as yet, moved with fear, he prepared an ark for the
saving of his house, Heb. 11. His fear was the native issue of
his faith. But the profane world, in whom sense was predomi-
nant, that despised the Oracle, and trembled at no judgments
but what were acting on the visible stage, they ate and drank,
married and were given in marriage, till swept away by the un-
feared inundation. We read that Lot being certified by an em-
bassy of angels, that a deluge of fire would in a few hours pour
down from heaven upon Sodom, he most earnestly solicited his
sons in law," Arise, depart out of this place, for the Lord will
destroy this city:" But they entertained his compassionate ad-
vice with derision, he seemed to them as one that mocked, and
were surprised by those fearful flames that dispatched them from
a temporal hell to that which is eternal. Thus it was prophe-
sied, "that in the last days there shall come scoffers, walking
after their own lusts, and saying, where is the promise of his
coming?" But let them blaspheme and scorn the most sacred
and terrible truths, let them perpetuate their excess of riot, and
wild mirth while they live; death will come, and judgment as
sure as death.
CHAPTER III.
How the death of Christ frees us from the tormenting fear of death. By
dying he paid our ransom to the injured justice of God, and deprives Sa-
tan of the legal power he had over us. His death is our redemption from
the curse of death. It makes death a blessed advantage to believers.
The happiness obtained by death unfolded. It frees the saints from af-
flicting evils, and sin the cause of them. The highest positive good ob-
tained by death.
III. I now come to show how the death of Christ frees us
from the tormenting fear of death.
For the clearing this, we are to consider, that sin, Satan and
death, are enemies in combination against man in his mortal
state; and the destructive power of Satan and death, is from
sin. When man renounced his Creator and natural Lord, he
was judicially given up to Satan as the executioner of vengeance,
and to the power of death. Such is the order, rather the con-
fusion in the world by sin. The empire of Satan and death is
built on the ruins of our innocence.
Now the Son of God came from his throne in heaven to de-
344
OF DEATH.
liver us: And whereas there are two ways of obtaining freedom
from captivity, either by ransom, or by power and rescue; in
both respects our deliverance from bondage to these capital ene-
mies, is ascribed to the death of Christ.
It is called our ransom, and that in its strict notion has a re-
spect to captivity: There is one God, and one mediator be-
tween God and man, the man Christ Jesus; who gave himself
a ransom for all, 1 Tim. 2. 6. His life was the full price of our
liberty and salvation. God does not pardon sin, and release from
punishment by a pure absolute act of his will and authority, as
a creditor forgives a debtor; but in such a way as to preserve
the rights of justice inviolate. Therefore when man was de-
voted to death, our Redeemer exchanged conditions with him,
and offered up his precious blood, 1 Pet. 1. 18. as our ransom to
God in the quality of the king and judge of all. Such was the
dignity of his person, that the entire world, the heavens and the
earth, with all their inhabitants, are of less value to him, than
the basest dross to refined gold. Such was the greatness of his
sufferings, Phil. 2. 8. in which the highest degree of obedience,
and the lowest degree of humility were conspicuous, as to be a
valuable compensation, to obtain eternal redemption for us.
Now when God the supreme Judge is satisfied, Satan forfeits
the right he had to torment us, and is divested of his dominion
over our wills; which though justly permitted, was an usurpa-
tion upon God's right in man that can never be extinguished.
It is said by the apostle, that our Saviour blotting out the hand-
writing of ordinances that was against us, which was contrary to
us, and took it out of the way, nailing it to his cross, Col. 2.
He abolished the use of the ceremonial law, that was an evi-
dence and indictment of their guilt who performed it, and the
curse of the moral law: It follows, and having spoiled princi-
palities and powers, he made a shew of them openly, triumph-
ing over them in it. Our Saviour died victoriously; the tree of
infamy on which he suffered, was the trophy of his conquest.
His death disarmed Satan of his weapons, whereby he subdued
us, sin, the law and death; for though his actual triumph was in
his resurrection and ascension to glory, yet it is justly ascribed
to his death; for that meritoriously opened the grave at his res-
urrection, and heaven at his ascension.
And here by the way it is most worthy of observation, that
our deliverance from our spiritual and most deadly enemies is
equally righteous, as admirable and glorious: For our suffering Sa-
viour appeased the wrath of God, and broke the powers of dark-
ness. The wisdom and love of God had their designs in his death,
as well as the malice and rage of Satan; as lines that are opposite
in the circumference, meet in the centre.
And as from the tyranny of Satan, so the death of our Re-
deemer is our redemption from death, as to the curse and final
dominion of it; nay, has made it a blessed advantage to us.
OF DEATH.
345
1. The curse is removed. Death considered as the wages of
sin, is all sting and poison, the consequent of the spiritual death,
and the introduction to eternal death. The sting of death is sin
and the strength of sin is the law, 1 Cor 15. Death hath its
wounding power from sin, and sin from the law, that forbids it,
that discovers its nature, and enhances the measure of its guilt,
and denounces condemnation for it. Now our Saviour, having
in our stead subjected himself to death, the penalty of the law
for sin, there is no condemnation to those that are in Christ
Jesus. Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being
made a curse for us, Gal. 3. Death inflicted on the saints, has
not that relation to the guilt of sin, as to be properly satisfaction
to revenging justice. There are no petty payments to be made
by our sufferings after his complete satisfaction to God. The
Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all, Isa. 53.
It is indeed still a declaration of God's holy displeasure against
sin, for that originally opened the way of its coming into the
world; and sometimes by the immaturity or manner of it, it is a
chastisement upon good men for sin; that is, to make them renew
their repentance, and mortify their carnal affections that fasten
them to the world. For though after the last act of expiration
there is no place for repentance; yet in the approaches of death,
the soul is strongly excited by the call of God to review its state
and make solemn preparation to be found of him in peace. But
it is not in a strict sense the malediction and vengeance of the
law executed upon them. The serpent is turned into a rod of
correction in the hands of our heavenly Father for their good,
Heb. 12. As the Apostle, speaking of some that for their pro-
faning the Lord's table were fallen asleep, adds, that when we
are judged, we are chastened of the Lord, that we may not be
condemned with the world, 1 Cor. 10. 33. A believer shall not
be hurt of the second death, Rev. 2.
From hence it is, that in the book of life, the scriptures, the
death of the saints is called a sleep. Saint Paul argues, if we
believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also that
sleep in Jesus, will God bring with him, 1 Thess. 4. 14. It is
ohservable how the apostle varies the expression, Jesus died,
and the saints sleep in him: for he sustained death with all its
terrors, that it might be a calm sleep to his people. They en-
joy as perfect a rest in the beds of dust, as even in the softest
down. Stephen, in the midst of a shower of stones, fell asleep.
Believers die in peace. The righteous is taker from the evil
to come, he enters into peace, Isa. 57. 1, 2. Being reconciled
*Annon longe gloriosius fuit, quandoquidem totum pro nobis agebatur, ut
non modo passio corporis, sed etiam cordis affectio pro nobis faceret? Et
quos vivificabat mors, nihilominus et trepidatio robustos, et mœstitia lætos, et
tædium alacres, et turbatio quietos faceret, et desolatio consolatos? Bern.
Serm. 1. de S. Andr.
VOL. I.
1
44
346
OF DEATH.
to God through the blood of Christ, they are not terrified at his
call; but with sweet tranquillity resign their souls unto him.
Lord, now let thy servant depart in peace, for my eyes have
seen thy salvation, Luke 2. There is a vast difference in God's
account, between the death of the righteous and the wicked. As
the tabernacle in the wilderness was taken down with care upon
their change of station, and delivered to the Levites' charge, in
order to the raising of it again with honor; but the house incu-
rably infected with the leprosy, was plucked down with violence,
and thrown into an unclean place with execration: Thus the
death of the saints is precious in the sight of the Lord, their bod-
ies are kept in the bosom of the earth, to be raised in glory; and
the death of the wicked is accursed. In short, as the wood that
Moses cast into the waters of Marah, by a miraculous virtue
sweetened them; so the cross of Christ has taken away the ma-
lignity and bitterness of death.
:
2. Death is a blessed advantage, and enriching gain to a be-
liever It brings him to the possession of that good that incom-
parably exceeds the evil that remains in it. For the death of a
saint is not total; but as in the ceremony of purification from
leprosy, one bird was killed, and the other was let fly in the o-
pen air, the mysterious shadow of the lepers being restored to a
state of liberty: Thus when the body dies and returns to the
earth, the spirit returns to God, the father of spirits, and foun-
tain of life. Our Saviour told the Jews, I am the living bread
that came down from heaven: If any man eat of this bread, he
shall live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh,
that I will give for the life of the world, John 6. 48. The heav-
enly divine life, that is communicated by the spirit of Christ to
believers, remains entire when the sensitive life is lost. The
natural order is, "There is a time to be born, and a time to die :"
The supernatural is, there is a time to die, and a time to be born.
The death of a saint is a *new birth; the pains of the dying body
are as throes, whereby the ripened soul is delivered into the
land of the living. The happiness of a saint after death, more
particularly will appear by considering,
The freedom he obtains from all afflicting evils that are
numberless here, and from sin the worst in its nature, and the
cause of all the rest. The present world is a labyrinth of thorns,
in every state we meet with something to vex us.
You may as
well count the waves of the sea when enraged by a tempest, as
the troubles to which in this mortal open state we are exposed.
Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble,
Job. 14. 1. A short life, and many miseries. O our unhappy
*Dies iste quem tu tanquam supremum reformidas, æterni natalis est.
Senec.
OF DEATH.
347
!
capacity the body is liable to as many diseases, as there are
members; and the soul to as many perplexities as passions.
How often are the scenes and habits changed in the time of one
man? He that lives in pleasures, must act the mourner's part,
our sweetest comforts have hidden stings: And whatever is
most pleasing, may occasion bitter grief. And usually holy men
have a greater portion of afflictions here: Sometimes by the
malignity and violence of the Wicked; as under the law, the
lamb and the dove were sacrifices, the emblems of innocence,
and purity, and meekness, whilst the vulture and the lion, the
greedy devourers, escaped. The Apostle declares of the elect,
they are predestinated to be conformed to the image of God's
son, who traced out the way to heaven in his own blood, and by
the cross ascended to the throne. Sometimes more immediately
divine Providence afflicts them to preserve their spirits from the
tainted pleasures of the world, and for other holy ends: But
there is a rest for the people of God in heaven. Besides there
are relicks of sin in the best of saints here. Indeed sin is depo-
sed from sovereignty and rule; the imperious lusts are crucified,
but not quite expired. As those that were nailed to the cross in
their hands and feet, the parts least vital and most sensible, died
a painful lingering death. Still the flesh lusts against the spirit,
and the spirit against the flesh. As there is a complexion of hu-
mors in human bodies, always jarring when they are in the sound-
est health; and where there is not this active contrariety, either
the body is without a soul, a mere carcass, or a glorified body in
heaven So where there is not this internal combat between
grace and sin, either the man is wholly † carnal, dead in sins and
trespasses; or wholly spiritual, reigning in heaven. And there
is nothing more works on the tender affections of a saint, than to
find in himself what is displeasing to God; that still he is under
a sad necessity of sinning. What is said concerning an old man.
wasted and decayed in his drooping years, that the grasshopper
is a burden to him, is true of the new man in a christian ; the
sins that are counted light in the valuation of the world, are a
heavy weight to him. Vain thoughts, idle words, irregular pas-
sions, unprofitable actions are motives of heart-breaking sorrow.
Now death is to a believer an universal remedy against all the
evils of this life: It frees him from all injuries and sufferings,and
from sin in all its degrees, from all inclinations and temptations
He that is dead ceaseth from sin. Death is the passage
Tempus angustatur ad vitam, dilatatur ad miseriam.
to it.
*
:
+ Omnes homines aut sunt penitus caro et nihil habent spiritus. Ii sunt
infideles sine regeneratione. Aut sunt tantum spiritus sine carne.
Ii sunt
sancti; qui jam in cælo æterna fruuntur pace sine pugna. Aut sunt partim
spiritus, partim caro. Ii sunt omnes renati per spiritum sanctum in Christo.
Aug. cont. Jul.
348
OF DEATH.
from this wilderness to the true Canaan, the rest above, that
flows with better milk and honey, with innocence and happiness
forever. There is nothing can disturb the peace, or corrupt the
purity of the blessed.
:
3. Besides the privative advantage, the freedom from all the
effects of God's displeasure, and the resentments of it, there is
the highest positive good obtained by death; the spirits of just
men are made perfect in heaven. The soul is the glory of man,
and grace is the glory of the soul, and both are then in their ex-
altation. All the faculties of the soul are raised to the highest
degrees of natural and divine perfection. In this life grace re-
news the faculties, but does not elevate them to their highest
pitch It does not make a mean understanding pregnant, nor a
frail memory strong, nor a slow tongue eloquent, but sanctifies
them as they are. But when the soul is released from this dark
body of earth, the understanding is clear and quick, the memory
firm, the will and affections ardent and vigorous. And they are
enriched with divine light and love, and power, that makes them
fit for the most noble and heavenly operations. The lineaments
of God's image on the soul are first drawn here, but then it re-
ceives his last hand. All the celestial colours are added, to give
the utmost life and lustre to it. Here we are advancing, but by
death we arrive at perfection.
We shall in heaven be joined to the assembly of saints and an-
gels, our best friends. Love is the law of that kingdom, and
perfectly obeyed there. Now how charming is the conversa-
tion of one that is wise and holy, especially if the sweetness of
affability be in his temper? How pleasantly does time slide a-
way, in the company of our beloved friends? We are not sensi-
ble of its flight. But what dear satisfaction is it to be united to
that chosen consecrated society above, who love one another as
themselves? Though the angels and saints have different degrees
of glory, yet every one is perfectly happy and pleased.
strings of an instrument differ in the size and sound: Some are
sharp and high, some grave and deep, others a mean; and from that
variety results the harmony of musick, so that if every string had
judgment and election, it would choose to be what it is: So from
the different degrees of glory in heaven, the most amiable and
equal order of the divine wisdom appears, that satisfies every
one.
As the
We shall be in the glorious presence of God and Christ, "where
is fulness of joy, and infinite pleasures forever." It is said of
Abraham, "he rejoiced to see the day of Christ," two thousand
years before his coming. When by faith he saw the incarnation
of the Son of God, in order to the redemption of men, it put him
into an extacy. Yet then our Saviour was born to sorrows and
miseries. But how ravishing is the sight of our Redeemer, "set
down on the right hand of the majesty on high, having purged
OF DEATH.
349
our sins by himself," and accomplished our salvation? Now we
are absent from God, yet in believing his infallible promises,
we "rejoice with a joy unspeakable and glorious :" But how much
more joyful is the fruition of them? Here the divine goodness
is derived to us through secondary means, that weaken its effica-
cy; but in Heaven the consolations of the creator are most pure-
ly dispensed, and his immediate excellencies are made known.
This blessedness exceeds all our thoughts, and explicate de-
sires, and requires the eloquence and experience of an angel to
set it forth. The bright sum of it is this, we shall see God in his
glory face to face, 1 Cor. 13. in the most perfect manner: The
sight of his glory shall transform us into his likeness; we shall be
like him, for we shall see him as he is, 1 John 3. This shall pro-
duce in us the most pure and ardent love; and love shall be at-
tended with inexpressible joy, and that with the highest praises
of the blessed God, whose influxive presence is the heaven of
heavens.
And that which crowns all is, that the life above is eternal.
This satisfies all our desires, and excludes all our fears: For un-
changeableness is an inseparable attribute of perfect felicity. The
blessed are in full communion with God, the fountain of life, and
Christ the prince of life. "Because I live," saith our Saviour,
"ye shall live also." What can interrupt, much less put an end
to the happiness of the saints? The love of God is immutably
fixed upon them, and their love upon him. Here their love is
subject to decays, and gradual alienations; as the needle in the
compass, though it always has a tendency to the North-pole, yet
sometimes it declines, and has its variations. But in heaven the
love of the saints is directly and constantly set upon God. The
light of his countenance governs all their affections. It is as im-
possible to divert their desires from him, as to cause one that is
inflamed with thirst, to leave a clear flowing spring for a noisome
puddle. In short, heaven is filled with eternal hallelujahs: for
there is no appearance of sin, no shadow of death there all mis-
eries are vanished, and all that is desirable is possessed by the
saints the circle of their employment is to enjoy and praise the
divine goodness forever.
Now is not the blessed exchange a christian makes of the pres-
ent life, for that which is infinitely better, sufficient to make
death not fearful, nay desirable to him? The regular well-ground-
ed hope of this will compose the thoughts in the nearest approach
and apprehension of death: no other principles or resolutions
are able to vanquish the terrors of our last enemy. And this
happiness was purchased for us by the everlasting treasure of
our saviour's blood. The satisfaction of his sufferings was mer-
itorious, as the merit of his active obedience was satisfying.
350
OF DEATH.
CHAPTER IV.
The reasons why believers die, and are in a state of death for a time, not-
withstanding the sting of death is taken away. Sin is abolished by death.
The graces are eminently exercised in the encounter with the last enemy.
The natural body is not capable of the celestial life. The resurrection of the
saints is delayed till the coming of Christ. The resurrection proved from
revelation; and the possibility of it by reason. How the resurrection of
Christ is an assurance of the happy resurrection of the saints.
Before I proceed to the third head, I shall resolve a question,
how it comes to pass, since believers are freed from the sting of
death, that they die, and remain in a state of death for a time?
For there are several reasons.
1. By this means all the sinful frailties that cleave to the saints in
this life, are abolished. The body is dead because of sin, Rom.
8.
And what is more becoming the wise and holy providence
of God, than that as by sin man was at first made subject to
death, so by death sin dies entirely forever. Thus, as in Samp-
son's riddle, out of the devourer comes meat; and our worst
enemy is conquered by his own weapons.
2. Death is continued to the saints, for the more eminent ex-
ercise and illustration of their graces, for the glory of God, and
in order to their future reward. *Faith, and love, and patience,
are declared in their most powerful operations in our encounter
with death. If every saint were visibly and entirely translated
to heaven, after a short course of holy obedience; if the wicked
did visibly drop down quick into hell, faith would be resigned to
sight here. This would confound the militant state of the church
with the triumphant. Therefore now death happens to the good
as well as to the wicked. In the next state they shall be sepa-
rated by a vast gulf, and an amazing difference. Now faith,
whatever the kind of death be that a christian suffers, sees
through the thickest clouds of disgrace and misery, the glorious
issue. As the illustrious confessor, who was crucified with our
Saviour, proclaimed his eternal kingdom in the midst of insult-
ing infidels. And our love to God then appears in its radiancy
*Poterat autem Christus etiam hoc donare credentibus, ut nec istius expe-
rirentur corporis mortem: sed si hoc fecisset carni quædam fœlicitas addere-
tur, minueretur fidei fortitudo. Quid enim magnum erat vivendo eos non
mori qui crederint se non morituros? Quanto est majus, quanto fortius, quan-
to laudibilius ita credere, ut se speret moriturus sine fine victurum? Aug.
de pecc. Mort. Lib. 2.
OF DEATH.
351
and vigor, when we are ready for the testimony of his truth,
and advancing his glory, to suffer a violent death: Or when it
comes in a gentler manner, for it is even then terrible to nature,
we are willingly subject to dissolution, that we may be united to
God in heaven. And our patience has never its perfect work,
and is truly victorious, until this last enemy be subdued. Death
is the seal of our constancy *and perseverance. Now the right-
eous rewarder will crown none but those that strive lawfully,
and are complete conquerors. And how wise and sweet is the
economy of the divine providence in this, that the frailty of our
nature should afford us a means of glorifying God, and of entit-
ling ourselves by his most gracious promises to a blessed re-
ward?
3. Our Saviour, by his unvaluable obedience and sufferings,
has procured for believers a celestial divine life, of which the
natural body is not capable. The apostle saith, "Flesh and
blood cannot enter into the the kingdom of heaven." The Ex-
igencies and decays of the sensitive nature require a continual
relief by food and sleep, and other material supplies: But the
life above is wholly spiritual; and equal to that of the angels.
Therefore until this earthly animal body be reformed and purified,
it is not capable of the glory reserved in heaven. This is so ab-
solutely requisite, that those believers, who are found alive at
the last day, shall "in the twinkling of an eye be changed," that
they may be qualified for it. Now herein the wisdom of God is
wonderful, that death, which by the covenant of works, was the
deserved penalty of sin, by the covenant of grace should be the
instrument of immortality: That as Joseph by a surprising cir-
cuit was brought from the prison to the principality; so a believ-
er by the grave ascends to heaven. This the apostle, in his di-
vine disputation against infidels, proves in a most convincing
manner; "Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened
except it die."
As the rotting of the corn in the earth is ne-
cessary to the reviving and springing of it up: So we must die,
and the image of the earthly Adam be abolished, that we may
be transformed into the image of the heavenly one.
And to the other part of the question, Why the saints remain
in the state of death for a time? There is a clear answer. The
resurrection of the saints is delayed till Christ's coming to judg-
ment, partly for the glory of his appearance: For what an ad-
mirable sight will it be, that the saints of all ages shall at once
arise glorified and immortalized, to attend upon our Saviour in
the last act of his regal office, and then to make a triumphant
entry with him into heaven? And partly, that the established
order of providence may not be disturbed: For the changing of
* Exercitia nobis sunt non funera, dant animo fortitudinis gloriam: con-
temptu mortis præparant ad coronam. Cypr. de mortal.
352
OF DEATH.
our nature into glory, in a sudden and inexplicable manner, cannot
be without miraculous power; and if every believer, presently af-
ter death, were in his glorified body translated to heaven, the
world would be always filled with miracles, which were to cease
after the sufficient confirmation of the gospel by them. But
how long soever the interval be to the resurrection, it shall be
with "them that sleep in Jesus," as it is with those that awake
out of a quiet natural sleep, to whom the longest night seems
but as a moment: So when the saints first awake from death,
in the great morning of the world, a thousand years will seem no
more to them than to God himself, but as one day.
I now come to prove the third thing, that our Saviour will
abolish the dominion of death over the saints. Whilst the bod-
ies of the saints remain in the grave, they seem to be absolutely
under the power of death. The world is a Golgotha, filled with
the monuments of its victories. And it may be said to this our
last enemy, in the words of the prophet to the bloody king,
"Hast thou killed, and taken possession?" But we are assured
by an infallible word, that the power of death shall be abolish-
ed, and the bodies of the saints be revived incorruptible and im-
mortal.
The resurrection is a terra incognita to the wisest heathens ;
a doctrine peculiar to the gospel: Some glimmerings they had
of the soul's immortality, without which all virtue had been ex-
tinguished in the world, but no conjecture of the reviving of the
body. But reason assists faith in this point, both as to the will
of God, and his power for the performing it. I will glance upon
the natural reasons that induce the considering mind to receive
this doctrine, and more largely shew how the resurrection of the
just is assured by our Redeemer.
The divine laws are the rule of duty to the entire man, and
not to the soul only: And they are obeyed or violated by the
soul and body in conjunction. Therefore there must be a resur-
rection of the body, that the entire person may be capable of re-
compences in judgment. The soul designs, the body executes :
The senses are the open ports to admit temptations. Carnal af-
fections deprave the soul, corrupt the mind, and mislead it. The
love of sin is founded in bono jucundo, in sensible pleasures :
"And the members are the servants of iniquity." The heart
is the fountain of profaneness, and the tongue expresses it. And
the body is obsequious to the holy soul in doing or suffering for
God; and denies its sensual appetites and satisfactions in com-
pliance with reason and grace. The "members are the instru-
ments of righteousness." It follows then there will be an uni-
versal resurrection, that the rewarding goodness of God may ap-
pear in making the bodies of his servants gloriously happy with
their souls, and their souls completely happy in union with their
bodies, to which they have a natural inclination, and his reveng-
OF DEATH.
353
ing justice be manifest in punishing the bodies of the wicked
with eternal torments answerable to their guilt.
•
And of the possibility of the resurrection, the circular and
continual production of things in the world, is a clear demonstra-
tion of the power of God for that effect. There is a pregnant
instance that our Saviour and the apostle made use of as an im-
age of the resurrection: A grain of corn sowed in the earth,
corrupts and dies, and after springs up entire; its death is a dis-
position to life. The essays of God's power in the works of re-
turning nature, flowers and fruits in their season, instruct us
how easily be can make those that are in the dust to awake to
life. If the art of man, whose power and skill are very narrow
and limited, can refine gold and silver to such a lustre, as if their
matter were not * earth digged out of the mines: If from
black cinders it can form crystal glasses so clear and shining,
how much more can omnipotency recompact our dust, and
reanimate it with a glorious life? Death that dissolves our vital
frame, does not abolish the matter of our bodies: And though
it is corrupted and changed by a thousand accidents, yet it is un-
perishing; and under whatsoever colors and figures it appears,
God perfectly discerns, and will separate it for its proper use.
More particularly, I will show how the resurrection of Christ
is an assurance of the resurrection of believers to glory. As
our surety he was under the arrest of death; it becoming the
holy majesty of God, and conducing to the ends of his govern-
ment, not to derogate from the dignity of his law, but to lay the
penalty upon his son, who interposed for us. Now having fin-
ished the work of our redemption by his sufferings, his resurrec-
tion was the just consequent of his passion. And it is observa-
ble that his resurrection, though one entire act, is ascribed as to
himself, so to his father, Rom. 1. 11. by whose consent and con-
currence he rose again. Therefore it is said, Whom God raised
up, having loosed the pains of death, since it was impossible he
should be holden by it, Acts 2. 24. It was naturally impossible
upon the account of the divine power inherent in his person;
and legally impossible, because divine justice required that he
should be raised to life; partly to vindicate his innocence, for he
was reputed and suffered as a malefactor, and principally be-
cause he had fully satisfied God. Accordingly the apostle de-
clares, he died for our sins, and rose again for our justification,
Rom. 4. Having paid our debt, he was released from the grave,
and the discharge was most solemnly published to the world.
It is therefore said, the God of peace raised him from the dead:
Heb. 13. the act is most congruously ascribed unto God invest-
ed with that title, because his power was exerted in that glori-
ous work, after he was "reconciled by the blood of the cove-
*Nomen terræ in igni reliquit. Turtu.
VOL. I.
45
354
OF DEATH.
nant." Briefly, our Saviour's victory over death was obtained
by dying, his triumph by rising again. He foiled our common
enemy in his own territories the grave. His death was a coun-
terpoison to death itself: As a bruised scorpion is a noble an-
tidote against its venom.
*
Indeed his death is incomparably a greater wonder than his
resurrection. For it is apparently more difficult that the son of
God, who originally possesses immortality, should die, than that
the human body united to him, should be raised to a glorious
life. It is more conceivable that God should communicate to
the human nature some of his divine perfections, impassibility,
and immortality, than that he should submit to our lowest infirm-
aties, sufferings and death.
Now the resurrection of Christ is the argument and claim of
our happy resurrection: For God chose and appointed him to be
the example and principle from whom all divine blessings should
be derived to us. Accordingly he tells his disciples, in a forecit-
ed scripture, "because I live, ye shall live also." Our nature
was raised in his person, and in our nature all believers: There-
fore he is called "the first-fruits of them that sleep;" because
as the first-fruits were a pledge and assurance of the following
harvest, and as from the condition of the first-fruits being offered
to God, the whole harvest was entitled to a consecration, so our
Saviour's resurrection to the life of glory is the earnest and as-
surance of ours. He is called "the first-born among the dead ;"
and owns the race of departed believers as his brethren, who
shall be restored to life according to his pattern. He is the
head; believers are his members, and therefore shall have com-
munion with him in his life. The effect is so infallible, that now
they are said to be raised up together, and made to sit in heav-
enly places in Christ Jesus, Ephes. 2. 6. If his victory over our
enemies had been imperfect, and he had saved himself with dif
ficulty and hazard, [as it were by fire] in the apostle's expres-
sion, our redemption had not been accomplished: But his pas-
sion was triumphant; and is it conceivable that he should leave
the saints, his own by so many dear titles, under the power of
death? If Moses, the deliverer of Israel from the tyranny of
Pharaoh, Exod. 10. 26. would not suffer any thing of theirs, not
an hoof, to remain in the house of bondage; will our great Re-
deemer be less perfect in his work? Shall our last enemy always
detain his spoils, our bodies, in the grave? This would reflect
upon his love and power. It is recorded, to confirm our hopes,
how early his power was displayed in forcing the grave to re-
lease its chained captives: And many bodies of saints which
slept arose, and came out of their graves after his resurrection,
and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many; Mat. 27.
* Qui sibi ipse pulcherrimum medicamentum. Celsus.
OF DEATH.
355
52, 53.
What better earnest can we have that the strength of
death is broken? From what he has done to what he is able to
do, the consequence is clear. The apostle tells us, He will raise
our vile bodies, and change them like unto his glorious body, by
that power whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself;
Phil. 3. 21. Our redemption will then be complete, Rom. 8.
23. and all the bitterness of death past. The redemption of the
soul is accomplished from sin and misery immediately after death;
but the redemption of the body is the last in order, and reserved
to crown our felicity at the great day: Then death shall be swal-
lowed up in victory, 1 Cor. 15. abolished forever.
And Ō the joyful reunion of those dear relatives after such a
divorce! when the body that was so long detained in that loath-
some grave, 1 Cor. 15. shall be reformed with all glorious per-
fections, and be a fit instrument for the soul, and partaker with
it in consummate blessedness and immortality. It is said, that
those that wear rich clothing are in Kings houses: But what
are all the robes of costly folly, wherein earthly courtiers appear,
to the brightness and beauty of the spiritual body wherewith the
saints shall be clothed, to qualify them for the presence of the
king of kings, and to be in his house forever? But O the miser-
able condition of the wicked in that day! Death now breaks
their bodies and souls into an irreconcilable enmity; and how
sad will their conjunction be! The soul will accuse the body to
have been sin's solicitor, continually tempting to sensualities;
and the body will upbraid more than ever it allured the soul, for
its wicked compliance: Then the sinner shall be an entire sacri-
fice, burning, but never consumed; Mark 9. Now from the as-
surance of a blessed resurrection by Christ, the forementioned
fear of death is conquered in believers. If the doctrine of the *
transmigration of souls into bodies, the invention of Pythagoras,
inspired his deciples with that fiery vigor, as to encounter the most
present and apparent dangers; being fearless to part with the
life that should be restored; how much more should a christian
with a holy confidence receive death, knowing that the life of
his body shall not be finally lost, but renewed in a blessed eter-
nity?
* Fælices errore suo quos ille timorum
Maximus, haud urget leti metus, inde ruendf
In ferrum mens prona viris, animæq; capaces,
Mortis, et ignavum redituræ parcere vitæ.
Lucan.
356
OF DEATH.
CHAPTER V.
The qualifications of persons considered, that have a right to this privilege.
Union with Christ, the fountain of eternal life, is absolutely requisite. The vi-
tal bond of that union is the sanctifying spirit. The eminent operations of
the spirit considered as the spirit of truth, and of holiness, and the comforter.
He illuminates the understanding, to see the reality and excellency of super-
natural things. He inspires the ardent love of God. Divine love is the prin-
ciple of universal holiness. The spirit communicates a divine power to do
the will of God.
The fourth general to be considered, is, the persons that have
an interest in this blessed privilege.
This inquiry is of infinite moment, both for the awakening of
the secure, who vainly presume upon their interest in the salva-
tion of the gospel, for the confirming and encouraging the saints.
And we have an infallible rule of trial declared by St. John:
He that hath the Son, hath life; and he that hath not the Son, hath
not life, 1 John 5. 12. All the excellent and comfortable bene-
fits procured by our Saviour, are communicated only to those
who are united to him. Particularly with respect to the pre-
sent subject: Justification, that great blessing of the gospel,
the complete pardon of sins, that disarms death of its sting,
is not common to all that are christians in title, but is a privi-
lege with a limitation: There is no condemnation to those that
are in Christ Jesus, Rom. 8. 1. vitally as their head, from
whom are derived spiritual influences, and judicially as their
advocate in judgment: And such are described by this infallible
character, "who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit."
The blessedness after death that is assured by a voice from hea-
ven, is with this precise restriction exclusive of all others;
Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord; they rest from their
labors, and their works follow them; Rev. 14. 13. The glori
ous resurrection at the last day, when the bodies of the saints
that now rest in hope shall be incorruptible and immortal, is the
consequence of union with him. Thus the apostle declares;
as in Adam all die, so in Christ shall all be made alive; 1 Cor. 15.
22. As all that are naturally in and from Adam, the corrupt
fountain of mankind, are under the sentence of death; so all
that are in Christ, the head of the regenerate, shall partake of
his blessed life. Others shall be raised by his power, as their
judge, but not as their head: raised to be more miserable than
death can make them, not to be transformed into his glorious re-
OF DEATH.
357
semblance; made capable of suffering an ever-dying death, not
revived to eternal life.
Now the bond of our union to Christ, is the Holy Spirit de-
rived from him, as the head of the church, and is the inward,
powerful, and lasting principle of holiness and new obedience in
believers. He that is joined to the Lord, is one Spirit, 1 Cor.
6. 17. that is, by the spirit of holiness has a real participation of
his life, is both quickened and united to him; John 6. 36. When
the prophet Elisha, by the outward applying the parts of his
body to the dead child, 2 Kings 4. 34. inspired life into him,
there was no real union between them; but Christ is, by his
spirit, so intimately united to believers, that he lives in them,
and they in him, Gal. 2. 20. The sanctifying spirit renews the
directing and commanding faculties, the fountains of moral ac-
tions, enlightens the understandings with saving knowledge, rec-
tifies the obliquity of the will, purifies the affection, and reforms
the life: So that the same mind is in christians as was in Christ
and as his conversation was, such is thers in the world. This
divine change is not wrought by natural reason, though assisted
by the most powerful arguments. The breath of a man may as
easy dispel a mist, or thaw a frost, as human directions and mo-
tives to virtue can renew the mind and heart, and produce a
holy frame of soul towards God. Renewed christians are said
to be in the spirit, illuminated, inclined, and enabled by the spi-
rit to do God's will; and the spirit of God to dwell in them, by
his peculiar and eminent operations: "They live in the spirit,
and walk in the spirit." An angel may assume a body, and act
by it but the human soul enlivens it, and performs sensible op-
erations by it: And such a principle is the Holy Spirit to the
soul, gives it spiritual life, activity and power for good works.
By what application of the Spirit's power this is produced, is
mysterious and inexplicable; but as the apostle speaks of his
rapture into the third heavens, that he knew it was real, and
heard "unutterable things;" though how it was performed,
"whether in the body, or out of the body," he could not tell.
Thus when a natural man, the current of whose thoughts and
affections was to the things of this world, becomes spiritual,
when the carnal appetite is subdued, and sanctified reason has
the throne, when he feels such strong and sweet impulsives to
holiness as engage the will; when the stream of his desires as-
cend to the things above, and his life becomes holy and heaven-
ly, he feels and knows this wonderful change, though the manner
how it was wrought he cannot tell. I will shew more fully this
sanctifying work of the Spirit, that we may the better under-
stand our state.
The Spirit of God is denominated by various titles; the Spirit
of truth, the Spirit of holiness, the Comforter, John 15. 26. and
represented by various types; by an ointment that clarifies the
358
OF DEATH.
eye to see things aright, by cleansing refreshing water, by puri-
fying refining fire, Rom. 1. 4. correspondent to his sacred opera-
tions in the soul. As the Spirit of truth, he illuminates the un-
derstanding to see the reason and excellency of supernatural and
heavenly things, of the great mysteries of godliness, of eternal
glory; so that a christian, in his most deliberate, solemn and
composed thoughts, in his exactest valuation, infinitely prefers
them before the gaudy vanities of this transient world. When
the eyes of the mind are truly enlightened, present things appear,
or rather disappear, as shadows. As the Spirit of holiness, he
renews the will and affections, inspires the soul with divine and
unutterable desires after the favor and grace of God, and com-
municates spiritual power for the prosecuting and obtaining those
desires. The Holy Spirit raises such a love to God, that habitu-
ally and strongly inclines the soul to obey his commands. This
is the most clear and essential character of a christian, the spe-
cial and most excellent property of a saint, upon which all other
holy qualifications depend. As reason is the first and chief ex-
cellence of man, from whence his other perfections are derived,
that distinguish him from the brutes, and give him a natural and
regular preeminence and dominion over them, so that a man is
most properly defined a reasonable creature: Thus the love of
God is the most divine grace, the true form of holiness, the root
from whence all other virtues spring and flourish, and most pecu-
liarly distinguish a saint from unregenerate men, however adorn-
ed and accomplished; so that a saint is most properly defined to
be a lover of God.
This is the principle of true holiness inherent in the soul, and
shining in the conversation, that distinguishes the sincerity of a
saint from the art of hypocrisy, an affected appearance of religion
for carnal sordid respects; and from civil virtue, that restrains.
from what is ignominious and disgraceful to our reputation, and
makes obnoxious to penalties of the laws, and excites to praise-
worthy actions, upon worldly motives; and from philosophical
morality, that forbids vice as contrary to reason, and commends
virtue as the chief ornament and perfection of human nature,
without a regard to please and glorify God.
And divine love is the principle of universal holiness. Love
is called "the fulfilling of the law," as it is a comprehensive
grace, and as it draws forth all the active powers of the soul to
do God's will in an exact manner. Universal obedience is the
exercise of love in various instances. As the spouse in the Song
of Solomon is transformed in divers representations; sometimes
as a sister, sometimes a warrior, sometimes as the keeper of a
vineyard, but she always acted as a lover, and her chief business
was to please her beloved. This allegorical description of the
church, signifies that when the soul is inflamed with the love of
God, that affection will be active, and discover itself in all it does
OF DEATH.
359
or suffers in the service of God. This will make a christian ve-
ry desirous and diligent to please God in all things, and careful
not to displease him in any thing; for that is the inseparable ef-
fect of love. The felicity of the natural temper, and the force of
education, may cause a loathing of some evils, and dispose to
some good works, but with a reserved delight in other sins, and
a secret exception against other duties. Servile fear is a partial
principle, and causes an unequal respect to the divine precepts:
it restrains from sins of greater guilt, at which conscience takes
fire it urges to some duties, the neglect of which causes disqui-
et; but the love of God causes the hatred of sin; and therefore
it is against all sin, not only to prevent the exercise of it, but to
eradicate it out of the soul. All the fearful consequences of sin
do not render it so odious to a gracious spirit, as its own proper
idea and intrinsic evil, as it is contrary to the holy nature and
law of God. Love unites the soul to God, and turns the thoughts
continually to him and the lively sense of his majesty and pres-
ence, who is so pure that he cannot behold iniquity, causes
aversion from all that is displeasing to his divine eyes. And from
hence it is that a zealous lover of God is frequent and strict in
reviewing his heart and ways; and upon the discovery of sinful
failings, renews his repentance, which is the exercise of grief
and love, and renews his purposes of more care and circumspec-
tion for the future. Love aspires to be like God in all possible
degrees of purity; for it inflames our desire after his favor, as
that which is better than life, and all the sweetest enjoyments of
it and holiness is the powerful attractive of God's delightful love
to us.
an
Love is the principle of free, ingenuous, and joyful obedience.
It was our Saviour's meat and drink to do the will of his Father.
For love is the fountain of pleasure, it moves the soul with elec-
tion and liberty, and makes every thing grateful that proceeds
from it. Therefore the apostle declares, "that the law is not
made for a righteous man," that is, as it is enforced by terri-
ble penalties, to constrain rebellious sinners to obedience: for
love is an internal living law in the heart, and has an imperial
power over his actions. And this also distinguishes the renova-
tion of one sanctified by the Spirit from the imperfect change
that is made in the unregenerate. They may stop the eruption
of corrupt nature, but are swine, that being washed, have an in-
clination to wallow in the mire they may by strong impressions
of fear be urged to do many good things; but in this they are like
a bowl that is thrown with such violence, as controls the draw-
ing of the bias, and makes it run contrary to it. But love inclines
the soul to obey the holy motions of the Spirit with facility: as
the wheels in Ezekiel's vision turned every way with readiness
as the Spirit moved them.
And with holy love there is a spiritual power communicated,
360
OF DEATH.
It is
that both the natural averseness and impotence to what is good
may be healed. By the virtue of the sanctifying Spirit, the soul
that was dead, absolutely unable to perform spiritual and super-
natural acts, is revived to a kind of omnipotence, it can do all
things, required by the evangelical covenant, by the new law
that is in the hands of our merciful Mediator for salvation.
true, there are relics of sin in the best, and the flesh and spirit
are repugnant principles warring against one another: but the
renewed spirit will make no capitulation or composition with sin,
but is so predominant, that sin is gradually subdued, and does not
so freely and frequently break forth as it does from the unrenew-
ed. By the grace of the Spirit "we are enabled to mortify the
deeds of the body, to crucify the flesh with all the affections and
lusts thereof;" and to perform holy duties with freedom, alacrity
and zeal, in such a manner as is acceptable to God. In short,
saving grace is distinguished from that which is common to the
unregenerate by its prevalency and constancy. There may be a
declination in the saints tending to a downfall; but the seed of
God, that supernatural grace that remains in them, will by the
power of the Holy Spirit recover the supremacy. Others may
be enlightened, and feel some good motions, and transient touch-
es; as Saul had his rapture among the prophets: but they are
not truly, entirely and perseveringly converted to God; they
are not proof against the allurements or terrors of the world.
They make a fair profession till they are tried by temptations.
Congealed drops of water appear like solid crystal, till the warm
beams of the sun dissolve them, and discover the hypocrisy of
the crystal. False jewels may seem to have the lustre of dia-
monds, till they are broke by a fall, and discovered to be glass.
Thus the riches, the honors and pleasures of the flesh melt
some, and evils break the resolution of others, and make it evi-
dent they were not sincere converts. But where the holy Spir-
it savingly works, he is said to dwell: He is not like a passenger,
or a tenant at will, that neglects the house, and suffers it to fall
into ruin, but as the proprietary and owner he keeps perpetual
residence in true christians, and by his continual influence pre-
serves them from final apostacy.
Now from hence we may judge whether we have an interest
in Christ and his benefits. For the apostle clearly tells us, that
if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his,
Rom. 8. 9. By his sacred signature we are appropriated to
Christ, and visibly distinguished from the world. For though
the secret and pure influences of the spirit in the soul are only
known to the person that feels them, yet his active inspirations
are declarative of his presence and power in the outward con-
versation. As the wind that is of so thin and subtile a nature
that it is invisible in itself, but we certainly know from what
point it blows by the course and way that the ship makes: Thus
OF DEATH.
361
the spirit of God, who is compared to the wind, is discovered by
an infallible indication, his fruits and effects in a holy life. And
those who have communion with Christ by his spirit, have a
share in his victories, and may with confidence meet the last
enemy, death: For we are assured, if the spirit of him that
raised up Jesus from the dead, dwell in us, he that raised up
Christ from the dead shall also quicken our mortal bodies, by
the spirit that dwelleth in us, Rom. 8. 11.
A preparative conformity to Christ in Grace, will be followed
with a consummate in glory. But those who never felt the sanc-
tifying efficacy of the spirit in their hearts and lives, though they
are christians in profession, yet they have no other union with
Christ, than a dead branch with a tree that receives no sap and
virtue from it; or an artificial member joined to the body, that
may have the outward cloathing and ornaments proper to that
part, but derives no life and sense from it. Whoever is in
Christ is a new creature, 2 Cor. 5. 17. And only those who
partake in the first resurrection from sin, shall be exempted
from the power of the second death, and upon just grounds are
freed from the terrors of the first.
CHAPTER VI.
Our dear obligations to our Redeemer considered, who frees us from the
sting, and fear, and dominion of death. His love was equal to the height
of his glory from whence he descended, and the depth of his sufferings for
our sake. An excitation to make it the great design of our lives to over-
come the fear of death. Reconciliation with God requisite to our being
freed from the powers of death. Repentance is necessary to obtain the
favor of God. The infinite danger of delaying it, unfolded.
The pre-
sumption of long life is vain. The hope of a future repentance is very
deceitful. It is very hazardous whether God will accept the repentance
that flows merely from bitter constraint at last. The continuance in sin
upon the presumption of pardon, renders man most unworthy of it.
To apply this point let us, (1.) Consider our dear obliga-
tions to our blessed Saviour, who to free us from the sting and
enslaving fear of death, submitted to it with all its terrors from
God and wicked men. He felt a sadness to an agony in his
soul, and suffered the equal extremities of ignominy and torment
in his body. The favor of God was intercepted from him, that
it may shine upon us in that gloomy hour. And all his terrible
sufferings, though foreknown by his enlightened mind, could not
weaken his determined will to undergo them for us: But when
VOL. I.
46
362
OF DEATH.
Peter regarded with a more tender eye his life than our salvation,
he was repelled with indignation. Unparalleled love! no less
than divine, transcending all the instances of human affection.
The highest kind and excess of love among men is to die for
another, and the highest degree in that kind is to die to save an
enemy; and of this our Saviour is the singular example: Love
incomprehensible! It passes knowledge, and all understanding
but his who expressed it. His love was equal to the height of
his glory from whence he descended, and the depth of his suf-
ferings that he sustained in our stead. By washing us from our
sins in his blood, he makes us kings, Rev. 1. dignifies us with
spiritual sovereignty over, not only defiling, but disturbing pas-
sions. The freest and most confident sinner in the world, that
rebels against the divine laws without restraint, is a slave, not
only under the chains of his imperious lusts, but in that he is lia-
ble to the scourgings of conscience whenever awakened, and to
the servile fear of death every day. But the sincere christian
has a clear and sweet peace, a blessed tranquility from the tor-
menting apprehensions and fears of death, that are the just con-
sequences of guilt.
One of the ancient * Romans highly celebrates the Astrono-
mers, who discovered the true causes of the eclipses of the sun
and moon, and freed the world from the double darkness of ig-
norance and fear; for before that discovery, men believed the
obscuring of those great lights were the fainting fits of nature,
and mortal symptoms threatening an universal calamity. But
what praise and blessing is due to our Saviour, who hath given
us infallible assurance that the death of the righteous is not, as
the heathen world imagined, an irreparable loss of life, but a
short eclipsing of the low and mean light that is common to
sensitive creatures, to be restored more excellent and perma-
nent in heaven, where those stars shine in the divine presence
forever. "Thanks be to God which gives us the victory through
our Lord Jesus Christ." This should render him infinitely pre-
cious, to us, and inflame our hearts with desires equal to our ob-
ligations to serve him.
(2.) Let us make it the great design and main business of our
lives to remove from our souls the just fears of death. It is one
of the solemn follies of the world to fear where there is no cause :
As if a sentinel should mistake glow-worms in the night for lighted
matches, and give a false alarm: But it is a worse folly, though
pleasing, not to fear when there is the greatest reason to excite
it. And it is so in the present case; for the most are without
the fear of death, that should make them serious in preparing
for it: Nay, to maintain their security, are as unwilling to hear
* Macti ingenio esse Cœli interpretes, rerumque naturæ capaces, argumenti
repertores, quo Deos hominesque vinxistis. Plin. lib. 2.
OF DEATH.
363
conscience declare the wretchedness of their condition with res-
pect to eternity, as Ahab was the prophet Micaiah,[who always
foretold evil things to him.
It was the chief design of the philosophers, by principles of
reason, to fortify themselves against all frightful accidents, and
with a masculine mind, with an ardent and generous spirit, to *
encounter this inevitable evil. When one of them was threat-
ened by the emperor Antigonus with present death, he boldly
replied, Threaten this to your dissolute courtiers that are soft-
ned and melted by sensual pleasures, and easily receptive of ter-
rible impressions, not to a philosopher to whom death is con-
temptible in any appearance. This was a piece of affected brave-
ry; for pagan philosophy could never furnish them with armor
of proof against the dart of our last enemy. But the gospel as-
suring us that death is an entrance into immortality, makes that
to be the reality of a christian, that was a vain boast of the phi-
losophers.
Now that we may be established in that blessed tranquility
that death cannot discompose, the following directions are infi-
nitely useful.
[1] We must give all diligence to be in a state of reconcila-
tion with God. The things requisite to that are, as the apostle
declares, Repentance towards God, and faith in the Lord Jesus
Christ, Acts 20. 21. Repentance includes a godly sorrow for
sins past, without partiality in the heart and conversation. It is
called repentance from dead works, Heb. 6. 1. the proper name
of our sins, that deserve eternal death. By repentance we re-
turn to obedience that is due to God our maker and lawgiver.
Faith respects the Redeemer, who by his blood shed on the
cross, and pleaded in heaven, reconciles God to penitent sinners.
The belief of his merciful and powerful mediation for our ac-
ceptance and pardon, works by love, 2 Cor. 3. 14. and constrains
us to dedicate ourselves in a devoted propriety to his glory and
service, and to live according to that dedication. These two are
absolutely necessary to the vital and salvifical state of a chris-
tian. And as soon as a person sincerely repents and believes,
he is justified before God; and if he dies, will certainly obtain
eternal glory. This should be the early and most speedy work
of our lives: For the delay of repentance, and neglect of secur-
ing the favor of God, arms death with more stings and terrors.
The infinite danger of this I will unfold, to awaken the care-
less and secure. The devil is a sophister in perfection; and his
ordinary and successful artifice to elude the force of present con-
viction, and wrap men in sin and damnation, is to induce them to
*Fœlix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas:
Atque metus mortis et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibut.
Virgil.
364
OF DEATH.
delay the great work of the soul till afterward. He is not so
foolish to tell them, as he did our first parents, Ye shall not die;
for the temptation is so palpable, that it could deceive none.
Though the evidence and certainty of supernatural truths, that
disturb the security of sinners, is sometimes obscured by affect-
ed doubts; yet there is no artifice that can resist the full and
strong conviction in men, that death is inevitable. Though na-
ture recoils from it with abhorence, yet this sad truth is so visi-
ble that it forces an assent from all. Those who are titular Gods,
the greatest princes, are not so vain as to pretend to an exemp-
tion by privilege from that fatal necessity; they cannot fancy to
be embalmed alive, and that nature may be made incorruptible
by art. The palace is as near the grave as the cottage: There-
fore the devil cherishes in men fond hopes of a long life. As
some optic glasses deceive the sight, and make a superficial rep-
resentation in colors on a wall, but two or three steps distance
appears a long deep gallery: Thus the tempter by a dangerous
deceit, presents to the imagination the fatal term at a great dis-
tance; and since he cannot lessen the certainty of death in
men's belief, he removes the image of it out of their memories,
to weaken the impression that it is capable to make on their af-
fections. They dare not venture to die as they live, careless of
salvation, and unprepared for their accounts with God; there-
fore they suspend the workings of conscience by a seeming com-
pliance; they resolve at random to convert and reform hereaf-
ter, but will not determine at present to forsake their sins. The
tempter insinuates there will be a long interval between the pre-
sent time and the last hour, that shall decide their state forever;
that it will be a convenient season to prepare for the other world
when they have done with this; as if repentance were best at
last, when there are no temptations, and therefore no danger of
retracting it. And the heart of man is a great flatterer, very
subtile to deceive and ruin him with vain resolutions of a devout
retirement, and becoming seriously religious hereafter; And
thus by an easy permission, he gratifies the present desires of the
flesh, and goes in a circuit from one vanity to another, till death
surprize the presumer. It is very applicable to this purpose,
what is related of Alcæus the poet, who from every season of
the year, took arguments to give a new title to his intemper-
ance The Spring, he said, required liberal drinking, in sign, of
joy for the renovation of nature; the Summer to temper our
heat, and refresh our thirst; it was due to Autumn that is dedi-
cated to the vintage; and Winter required it to expel the cold,
that would congeal the blood and spirits: Thus he pleaded for
the allowance of his excess. And so men in the several ages of
life (that are correspondent to the seasons of the year) frame
some excuses to delay repentance, and give some color to their
- rebellion against God, who commands us to hear his voice to
:
OF DEATH.
365
day, obediently and immediately, upon no less penalty than be-
ing excluded from his blessed rest forever: Heb. 2. 7. 8. Yet
the self-deceiving sinner preaches another gospel to himself, and
thinks the vanities of childhood, the pleasures of youth, the bu-
siness of middle age, and the infirmity of old age, are plausible
pretences to put off the serious work of repentance: O that
such would duly consider the desperate uncertainty upon which
men build their hopes of future repentance, and divine accept-
ance !
(1.) Men delay repentance upon the presumption of a long
life: But what is more uncertain? It is the wisdom and good-
ness of God to conceal in his impenetrable counsels, the time of
our sojourning here: For if men, though liable to death every
hour, and therefore should be under just fear, lest it surprse
them unprepared, yet against so strong a curb, run with that ex-
orbitant vehemence after the present world; how much more
licentious would they be, if secured from sudden death? But
none can promise to himself one day. Death comes not accord-
ing to the order of nature, but the decree of God. How many
in the flower of their youth and strength thought themselves at
as great distance from death as the East is from the West, when
there was not the space of an hour between them and death, be-
tween them and hell? The lamp suddenly expires by a blast
of wind, when there is plenty of oil to feed it. The rich man
pleased himself with designs of sensual enjoyments for many
years, yet did not see the dawning of the next morning; "thou
fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee." This sentence
is pronounced in heaven against thousands that are now alive,
conversant in the vanities and business of the world, eating and
drinking, playing and trading, and all unconcerned as to dying, yet
shall breath their last before to-morrow, and their unwilling souls
be rent from the embraces of their bodies. In various manners
men die from inward and outward causes; an apoplexy, an im-
posthume, a flux of rheum stopping respiration, kills the body,
without any presaging signs of death: as if the roof and all the
chambers should fall within the house, while the walls are stand-
ing entire. And how many unforeseen accidents, and therefore
inevitable, put a sudden period to life? Is it not our truest wis-
dom, by an early repentance, to prepare for death, when the sea-
son is certainly short, and but uncertainly continued, and the
omission is irreparable?
(2.) Suppose life be continued, yet sinners that delay repent-
ance, can have no rational hopes that they shall sincerely repent
in time to come. For,
1. Saving repentance is the gift of God: And is it likely that
those who have been insensible of the loud and earnest calls of the
Word, inflexible to the gracious methods of his providence lead-
ing them to repentance, should at last obtain converting grace?
366
OF DEATH.
འ
The gales of the Spirit are very transient, and blow where he
pleases; and can it be expected that those who have wilfully and
often resisted him, should by an exuberant favour receive after-
wards more powerful grace, to overrule their stubborn wills, and
make them obedient? To expect divine grace, and the power-
ful workings of the Spirit, after long resisting his holy excitations,
is both unreasonable and unrevealed. It is written as with a
sun-beam, that God will graciously pardon repenting sinners that
reform their lives; but it is no where promised, that he will give
saving* repentance to those who securely continue in sin, upon a
corrupt confidence they will repent at last. Our Saviour threat-
ens to him that neglects the improving the grace that is offered,
"that which he hath shall be taken away :" yet men unwilling
at present to forsake their sins of pleasure and profit, vainly hope
they shall obtain grace hereafter, without any promise from God,
and against the tenor of his threatnings. God has threatened
that his Spirit "shall not always strive with rebellious sinners,"
and then their state is remediless. This may be the case of ma-
ny in this life, who are insensible of their misery. As consump-
tive persons decline by degrees, lose their appetite, color and
strength, till at last they are hopeless: so the withdrawings of
the Spirit are gradual, his motions are not so strong nor frequent;
and upon the continued provocations of the disobedient, finally
leaves them under that most fearful doom, "he that is filthy, let
him be filthy still; he that is unrighteous, let him be unrighteous
still:" and thus punishes them on this side hell, as he does the
damned, by giving them over to sin. It is a bloody adventure
for men to indulge their carnal appetites, as if they had infallible
assurance that they should not die in an impenitent state. The
delayer does not regularly trust, but tempt God.
2. Suppose the holy Spirit be not totally withdrawn, yet by
every day's continuance in sin, the heart is more hardened against
the impressions of grace, more averse from returning to God, and
repentance more difficult and hazardous. The last guilty dispo-
sition that seals up the damnation of sinners, is impenitence. Now
he that delays the returning to his duty, shall have more cause
to repent hereafter, but less will and power; for sin repeated,
makes him more uncapable of repentance, and that which is in-
disposition, will become averseness and obstinacy. The heart
with difficulty changes its last end. Actions may be suddenly
changed, when there is a disability to perform them; but the in-
ward inclinations to sin, without supernatural renewing grace, re-
main. It is therefore the subtilty of the old serpent to make the
entrance of sin easy: for he knows that custom is a second na-
ture, and has a mighty power in us: "can an Ethiopian change
his skin, or the leopard change his spots? then may you who are
*Nemo ergo sibi promittat, quod evangelium non promittit. Aug.
OF DEATH.
367
accustomed to do evil, do good." If sin in its infancy can make
such resistance, that the spirit of grace is foiled in his motions to
rescue the soul from its bondage, how much more when it is
grown into a confirmed habit? Therefore the apostle urges so
zealously; "to-day, if you will hear his voice, harden not your
hearts, lest any be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin."
(3.) How uncertain is it whether God will accept the addres-
ses of such at last? We are commanded, "seek the Lord while
he may be found; call upon him while he is near." The limita-
tion implies, if the season be neglected, he will hide his face for-
Now in cases of great moment and hazard, what diligence,
what caution should be used?
ever.
1. Consider how derogatory it is to his majesty, to offer to him
the dregs of our age, the relics of a licentious careless life, spent
in the works of vanity. Is this to give glory to God? Jer. 13. 16.
Contempt provokes superiors as much as actual injuries: how
villifying is it of his eternal greatness, that men lavishly waste
the best of their time and strength upon their lusts; and when
through weakness of age, or the violence of a disease, they can
no more do the acts of sin, nor relish the pleasures of sin, to pre-
sume that God will upon their prayers forgive their sins so long
indulged, and of such violent provocations, and receive them into
his kingdom, as if he could not be happy without them, and it
were his interest to receive them? God has laid his exceptions
against such addresses: he may justly stand upon his greatness
and honor:
and if ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil? offer it now to
thy governor, will he be pleased with it, to accept_thy_person,
saith the Lord of hosts?" As the Lord upbraids the Jews for
their black ingratitude in bargaining for thirty pieces of silver, to
have him betrayed to their malice; "a goodly price that I was
prized at of them :" so when there is an universal prostration of
all the powers and faculties, when the spirits are damped, the vi-
tal heat is checked, and the function of the senses is obstructed,
then to seek to God for mercy, and to make fair promises of obe-
dience, he may justly reproach the presumer, a goodly time you
have allotted for me? Your youth and strength, the golden age
of life, has been wasted on your lusts, and in the business of the
world; and the wretched remains you think worthy of my ac-
ceptance.
" if ye offer the blind for a sacrifice, is it not evil?
2. Consider what sincerity or moral value is in religion that
merely proceeds from bitter constraint. It is a rule in law, Fal-
sum est eam peperisse, cui mortuæ filius extractus est: It is not
a natural birth when the child is extracted from the dead mother:
it is not genuine piety that is extorted by the rack, whilst the
heart full of reluctancy does not truly consent. Pure religion.
flows uncompelled from love to God; it is the dregs that come
368
OF DEATH.
forth with pressing. It is observed of the Israelites, that* when
"God slew them, they sought him, and returned and inquired
early after God." But it is added, "nevertheless they did flat-
ter him with their mouths, and they lied to him with their tongues:
for their hearts were not right with him, neither were they sted-
fast in his covenant." How often does experience convince us
of the inefficacy of a sick-bed repentance? How many that were
devout and mournful, with one foot as it were in the grave, and
another in hell, and were as a brand plucked out of the fire; yet
when the fear of death is removed, all the terrors of conscience,
the religious affections that were felt and expressed by them,
vanish as the morning dew? Now converting grace is distin-
guished by its radication and efficacy, not only from the mere
pretences of those who know their own insincerity, but from the
real workings of conscience, and the imperfect dispositions to
good that are in the unrenewed. And those persons who with
the return of health, have returned to their sins, if they had died
with their religious resolutions, would have presumed that their
repentance was unto life, and of their interest in the divine mer-
cy. "The heart is deceitful above all things," and above all
things deceitful to itself. Besides, when sinners are plunged in
deep distress, when the shadow of death sits upon their eye-lids,
they may with plentiful effusions of tears desire God to receive
them to heaven, not to see and praise his adorable excellencies,
not to please and glorify him forever, but as a sanctuary from re-
venging justice, a refuge from hell. And will such prayers pre-
vail? What swells the confidence of sinners, but unworthy no-
tions of God, as if a forced and formal confession of their sins
could deceive his all-discerning eye; and desires merely termin-
ated on themselves, were sufficient to reconcile his offended ma-
jesty?
(3.) There is nothing renders men more unworthy of mercy,
than a continuance in sin, upon presumption of an easy pardon
at last. This is a most provoking abuse of his goodness and
long suffering, that should lead them unto repentance, Rom. 2.
He can in the twinkling of an eye, in the beating of a pulse,
cut off the sinner: It is as easy to his power as to will it. And
there is no consideration so melting and moving as his Clemen-
cy.
We read of David, that he had more than once in his pow-
er Saul, his unjust and cruel enemy, yet spared him: The effect
of it was, that Saul was softened, and under such consumption
of spirit, that he wept, confessed his guilt, and persecuted him
no more, overcome by that unexampled love: If a man find his
enemy, will he let him go? 1 Sam. 26. 21. Yet men take ad-
vantage from the goodness of God, securely to despise his laws.
The habitual sinner thinks that God is so gracious, such a lover
*Psal. 78. 3, 36.
OF DEATH.
369
of souls, so easy to be intreated, that upon his dying prayer,
"Lord remember me in thy kingdom," the answer will be, "to-
day thou shalt be with me in Paradise." This is the deceitful
principle upon which men usually build their hopes, as actions
that bear the image of their minds clearly manifest. Now this
presumptuous indulgence gives the deepest grain to their sins,
and makes them more uncapable of pardon. Chrysostom ob-
serves, that Judas was encouraged to betray his master, presum-
ing on his lenity, goodness, benignity; which considerations in-
tolerably aggravated his treason, and confounded his hopes.
There is a dreadful threatening against those who reject the
invitations of grace in their prosperity, and when the righteous
judge comes to sentence and execution, are earnest suppliants for
mercy. Because I have called, and ye have refused; I have
stretched out my hands, and no man regarded: but ye have set
at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: I will
also laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear comes:
When your fear comes as a desolation, and your destruction as a
whirlwind when distress and anguish come upon you. Then
shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek
me early, but shall not find me: For they hated knowledge, and
did not choose the fear of the Lord, Prov. 1. A doleful case,
beyond all possible expression! when the sinful creature, for-
saken of all comforts below, addresses to heaven for relief, and
meets with derision and fury, scorn and indignation. The fool-
ish virgins, careless to prepare for the bridegroom's coming, in
vain at last discovered their want of oil, in vain solicited the
wise virgin's for supply, in vain knocked at the door, crying,
Lord, Lord, open to us, Matth. 25. The answer was severe
and peremptory, I know you not; and they were forever exclu-
ded from the joys of heaven.
VOL. I.
47
370
OF DEATH.
CHAPTER VII.
It is most incongruous to delay our reconciliation with God till the time of
sickness. It is very uncomfortable to delay it till our declining time.
The vanity of men's presuming to delay repentance, because some have
been converted in their last hours. The instances of such are rare, and
not to be drawn into example. Innumerable have died in their sins, de-
ceived with hopes of repenting hereafter. Those who have delayed their
repentance, are not utterly destitute of hopes, if they earnestly seek God at
last.
(4.) How incongruous is it to delay the solemn work of re-
conciliation with God till the time of sickness. This is an af-
fair wherein our transcendent interest is concerned, and should
be performed in our most calm and sensible condition, when we
are most capable of reflecting upon our ways, and making an
exact trial of ourselves, in order to our returning to God by a
holy change of our lives. Now that the time of sickness is not
a convenient season for this work, is sadly evident; for some
diseases are stupifying, and all the powers of the soul are be-
numbed in a dull captivity; so that the sick man only perceives
with his animal faculties. Some diseases are tormenting, and
cause a great disorder in the soul, and distract the thoughts from
considering his spiritual state. When the storm is at the high-
est, and the pilot so sick, that he can give no directions, the
ship is left to the fury of the winds, and escapes by miracle.
When there is a tempest in the humors of the body, and the
soul by sympathy is so discomposed, that it cannot apply to itself
to prepare for its appearance before the divine tribunal, what
danger of being lost, and passing from a short agony to ever-
lasting torment?
Besides; suppose the sickness more tolerable, yet how unfit
is a person weak and languishing, when sense and conscience
are both afflicted, to encounter with the cruel enemy of souls?
All that sincerely seek peace with God, must expect fierce an-
ger and war from Satan: Therefore it is a point of necessary
wisdom, whilst our bodies and minds are in the best order, to be
preparing against his assaults.
(5.) Consider how uncomfortable it is to delay repentance.
till
age and sickness, when the fruits of it are not so evident nor
acceptable: In evil days, and the approaches of death, it is very
hard to discover the sincerity of the heart; whether repentance
proceeds from holy principles; whether the sorrow then ex-
M
OF DEATH.
371
crea-
pressed be Godly, for sin, or merely natural, for punishment;
whether the good resolutions be the effects of permanent fideli-
ty, or of violent fear, that will vanish, the cause being removed.
When the invitations to sin cease, there may remain a secret
undiscerned love to it in the heart, which is the centre of cor-
ruption, and root of apostacy. The snake that seemed dead in
the frost, revived by the fire. The inordinate affections, that
seemed mortified when the sensitive faculties were disabled to
carnal enjoyments, may have inward life, and will soon be
active and vigorous in the presence of temptations. And that a
death-bed repentance is usually deceitful, appears from hence,
that not one of a thousand that recover from dangerous diseases,
are faithful in performing their most sacred and solemn vows.
How many having the sentence of death in themselves, and un-
der the terrors of the Lord, have expressed the greatest detesta-
tions of their sins, and resolved, as they thought sincerely, if God
would spare them, to reform their ways, to become new
tures, exemplary in all holy conversation; yet the danger being
over, their heats of devotion expire as they revive, and their
lusts recover strength with their bodies, and being suppressed
only by fear, are more fierce in their return. Their hearts were as
marble, that in rainy weather seems dissolved into water; but it
is only from the moisture of the air, and remains as hard as ever.
When the fear of death is removed, all their promises of reform-
ation are ineffective, as violent and void; all their religious affec-
tions vanish as the morning dew. Now if these persons had di-
ed before this visible trial and discovery, they had passed into
the other world with the reputation of true penitents; deceiving
others with their prayers and tears, and liberal promises, (the
outward signs of repentance) and deceived themselves by the in-
ward workings of an alarmed conscience. Therefore ministers
should be very circumspect in applying the promises of mercy to
persons in such a state; for an error in that kind has fearful con-
sequences. A little opiate divinity may quiet the mind for a
time, but the virtue of it will be soon spent, and the presumer
perishes forever. But suppose a dying person with true tears,
and unfeigned persevering affections, returns to God; can he
have a comfortable assurance of his sincerity? Indeed, the
searcher and judge of hearts will accept him; but how doubtful
and wavering are his hopes? What anxious fears are in his
breast, lest he builds upon a sandy foundation? And how dread-
ful is it to appear before the tribunal of God, and expect an un-
certain sentence ?
But sinners still please themselves in this, that God has effec-
tually called some at the last hour, and they may find the same
favor with others. To this I answer :
1. It is true, we have some rare admirable instances of God's
mercy and grace, the dying thief, and some others; which shew,
372
OF DEATH.
it is possible with God to abolish the most confirmed habits in a
short time, and by a swift conversion to prepare a sinner for
heaven: but these miraculous examples are not to be drawn into
consequence for the encouragement of any in their sins. A*
prince will not endure, that his free favors should be made a law
to him, and the special privilege of some be extended to all. As
Thales said, an old mariner, that has escaped the various dan-
gers by rocks and storms at sea, was a new miracle: so that for
one who has lived an obstinate sinner, to die a penitent believer,
is very rare and extraordinary. What our Saviour said concern-
ing the salvation of rich men, is justly applicable to this case ;
"that it was as easy for a camel to go through the eye of a nee-
dle, as for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven." This
so astonished the apostles, that they cried, "who then can be
saved?" To mitigate the difficulty, he remembers them of the
divine omnipotence: "all things are possible with God." Thus,
for one who has been hardened in a long course of sin, and ma-
king himself meet for the company of damned spirits in hell, to
be at last suddenly prepared and received into the pure and glori-
ous society above, is possible; but possible only as miracles are,
by the efficacy of infinite power; and we cannot reasonably ex-
pect such miracles. And are heaven and hell such trivial things
as to be left to an uncertainty? Are not men concerned in an-
other manner in the affairs of this world? How careful to pre-
vent the sentence of death, of imprisonment, of banishment?
How diligent to obtain some temporal advantage; yet how neg-
lectful in things of highest importance? It may be, says the se-
cure wretch, God will give me repentance at last, as he did to
others. Remember you speak of that that most nearly concerns
your soul; and dare you venture the salvation of an immortal
soul upon a naked possibility of receiving grace: what reasona-
ble person would neglect a disease that may prove deadly, and
rely on extreme remedies? And can you be guilty of such cru-
el indifference, such a desperate carelesness, as to leave eternal
salvation and eternal damnation to a peradventure?
t
2. Consider how many thousands have died in their sins, and
of them great numbers cherished † fallacious hopes of repenting
at last. Diagoras the atheist, that denied a governing provi-
dence of things in this lower world, the sphere of mutability,
when one for his conviction shewed him in the temple of Nep-
tune many votive tables, containing the grateful acknowledgments
of those who by addresses to the Gods in dangerous storms, had
arrived safe at their ports; and asked him, whether he had ob-
+
*Quod alicui gratiose conceditur, trahi non debet ab aliis in exemplum.
† Vix dici potest, quantos hæc inanis spei umbra deceperit. Aug.
+ Tull.
OF DEATH.
373
served those numerous testimonies for divine providence? he
replied, "I see them; but how many having invocated Neptune,
yet perished in the ocean, and never came to pay their vows for
deliverance? It was impiety in him to argue so against God's
disposing providence; but it may be justly said to those who
neglect their present duty, presuming upon some examples of his
glorious goodness to those who were converted and saved in
their approaches to death. How many have finally miscarried
in shooting that gulph, to one that has arrived safe at heaven?
How many that presume upon their youth and strength to delay
repentance, are suddenly cut off? The first symptom of their
sickness is death: and what the angel with such solemnity de-
clared, that time should be no more, is verified concerning them
by an unexpected dissolution. How many, when sick, hope ei-
ther by the vigor of nature, or the virtue of medicines, to over-
come the disease? And this hope is cherished by the mortal
kindness, the cruel deceit of friends, who are unwilling to dis-
cover their danger, lest their spirits should sink under the appre-
hension of it and thus deluded, may never see death till they
feel it, and perish forever in their impenitence. How many that
are guilty and graceless, when distant from death and hell but a
few hours; yet from atheism, are as secure as Jonah, who slept
in the midst of a tempest at sea ? The tenor of their lives dis-
covers this to be divine vengeance; they are seized by a spirit
of slumber, and pass without fear into the state of everlasting
desperation. How many are deceived with the appearance of
repentance, and mistake a false peace for a true, and assuage the
anguish of conscience by palliating remedies? Their sorrow for
sin, their prayers, their resolutions of reformation, are the pro-
duct of servile fear, that is ineffectual to salvation: and as it is
with crafty tradesmen, that take up much upon trust when near
breaking; so they are very liberal of the promises of amendment
when they are near dying. From hence they vainly presume
that God is reconciled to them, whose all-discerning eye sees the
inward spring of their sorrows; and the principle of all their re-
ligious resolutions is the guilty fear of eternal judgment. Now a
false tranquility is more terrible than the storms of a troubled
spirit; for those who hope upon deceitful grounds, are in the
most hopeless state, neglecting what is requisite in order to sal-
vation. Thus innumerable pass in a cloud of delusion to the
kingdom of darkness. And how many who have lived in care-
less security, as if they had made a covenant with death, when
conscience is awakened, and looks into the depth of their guilt,
when they see death before them attended with judgment, and
judgment with an everlasting hell; as we read of Sisera, who
from extreme fear passed to extreme security; so, on the contra-
ry, these self-deceivers, from security, have fallen into despair.
Then truth and conscience, that were so long under unrighteous
374
OF DEATH.
:
restraints, break the fetters, and terribly charge the sinners:
then innumerable acts, which they thought to be innocent, appear
to be sins; and sin, that they made light of, to be infinitely evil,
and in the highest degree hateful to God. And sometimes, by
the suggestions of the enemy of souls, they are overwhelmed
with despair, and their last error is worse than the first. The
devil makes his advantage of the timorous conscience, as well as
of the seared solitude is his scene, as well as the noisy theatre;
and by contrary ways, either presumption or despair, brings sin-
ners to the same end. He changes his methods according to
their dispositions; the tempter turns accuser; and then such
who had but a dim sight of sin before, have an over-quick sight
of it, and are swallowed up in an abyss of confusion. The con-
dition of such is extremely miserable. It is observed by those
who are bitten with a mad dog, that their cure is extreme * diffi-
cult, if not impossible; for being tormented with thirst, yet are
so fearful of water, that the sight of it sometimes causes sudden
convulsions and death. This is a significant emblem of a des-
pairing soul for when enraged conscience bites to the quick,
the guilty person filled with estuations and terrors, ardently
thirsts for pardon, yet fearfully forsakes his own mercies: what-
ever is propounded to encourage faith in the divine promises, he
turns to justify his infidelity. Represent to him the infinite mer-
cies of God, the unvaluable merits of Christ sufficient to redeem
the lost world; it increases his despair, because he has perverse-
ly abused those mercies, and neglected those merits. The most
precious promises of the gospel are killing terrors to him; as the
sweet title of friend, wherewith our Saviour received Judas when
he came to betray him, was the most stinging reproach of his
perfidious villany. Thus it appears, how dangerous it is to de-
lay repentance and reconciliation with God till sickness and a
death-bed, when the remembrance or forgetfulness of sin, the
sense, or security of conscience, may be equally destructive.
The sum of what has been amplified in this part, is this: A
vain hope of living long, and being reconciled to God when men
please, is the fatal foundation of their sins and misery. They
apply the word of God against the mind of God, and securely
provoke him, as if they could take heaven by violence, in con-
tradiction to the gospel: But they usually dispose of that time
they shall never enjoy, and presume upon that mercy and grace
they shall never obtain. We are commanded to "seek the Lord
while he may be found;" a sad intimation, that it is not in our
power to find him to our comfort when we please. He
He spares
Îong; but abused patience will deliver sinners to revenging jus-
tice. Sampson was three times in the chamber of his lust ex-
* Miserrimum morbi genus, in quo æger et siti, et aquæ metu cruciatur,
quorum spes in angusto est. Cels.
OF DEATH.
375
posed to treachery, and escaped; but the fourth time he said, "I
will arise," but was surprized by his enemies, and lost his
strength, and sight, and liberty. How justly will the wilful neg-
lect of salvation so long, and so compassionately offered to sin-
ners, render the divine mercy inexorable to their prayers and
tears at last? When a Roman gentleman that was wont to revel
in the night, and sleep in the day, had wasted a great estate by
luxury, he petitioned the emperor Tiberius to relieve his pover-
ty, and was dismissed with this upbraided answer, Sero exper-
rectus es, you are risen too late. He never opened his eyes to
see his condition, till it was past remedy. This is the sad case
of many that waste the seasons of grace, and are careless of
their duty, till upon the point of perishing, and then address
themselves to God for his favor and pardon, but are justly re-
jected with the reproaches of their obstinate neglect of salvation
in the time of their lives. I doubt not that some are wonderfully
converted and saved at last; but these special mercies are like our
Saviour's miraculous healing the two blind persons, as he was
passing in the way, when great numbers of the blind remained
uncured. We read a prodigious story in the Book of Kings,
that a captain, and his fifty men, commanded Elias to come to
the King, and immediately a tempest of lightning destroyed
them. Now who would think that another captain with his fifty
should be so desperate, having the ashes and relics of those mis-
erable carcases before their eyes, as to make the same citation
to the prophet? Yet they did, and provoked the justice of heav-
en to consume them. And this madness is exemplified in thou-
sands every day; for notwithstanding they see sinners like
themselves, cut off in their evil ways, they continue unreformed,
as if they were fearless of hell, as if resolved to secure their
own damnation.
I would not from what has been represented in this matter so
universally useful, discourage any that have lived in a course of
sin, from earnest seeking to God in their last hours: For even
then they are not utterly destitute of hope. The gospel sets
forth the mercy of God to returning sinners, in various repre-
sentations and expressions of admirable tenderness. When the
lost sheep was recovered, there was joy as if a treasure had been
found. The prodigal had wasted his estate in lasciviousness and
luxury, and by a harsh reduction came to himself, reflecting with
shame upon his folly and rebellion; and the sense of his misery
(not a more ingenuous or noble principle at first) compelled him
to go to his father, to try what his affection would do. And it
was not a vain presumption, for he found the effects of fatherly
and compassionate love: "When he was a great way off, his
father saw him, and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck,
and kissed him. And the son said, father, I have sinned against
heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called
376
OF DEATH.
thy son. But the father said to his servants, bring out the best
robes, and put a ring on his finger, and shoes on his feet; and
bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; let us eat and be
merry,
for this my son, was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is
found." The design of Christ was to represent his heavenly
father in that parable: And to wounded spirits that feel the in-
tolerable weight of sin, the mercy and mildness of the gospel
is to be exhibited. God is rich in mercy to all that call upon him
in truth. But to tell sinners who securely proceed in their sinful
ways, that they may be saved at last, and notwithstanding their
presumptuous repulses of God's calls to his service, yet think
they may come into the vineyard at the eleventh hour, and be
rewarded, is to give countenance and protection to sin, and to
harden them to destruction. Poison is not cured by giving food,
but antidotes, that put nature into a passion till it be expelled.
The terrors of the Lord can only prove medicinal to such de-
praved souls.
To conclude this argument, let us seriously consider the reve-
lation God has afforded of himself in the gospel. He is a father
and a judge; justice and holiness as well as mercy are essential
to his nature, that our affections may be accordingly moved to-
wards him. "If ye call on the father, who without respect of
persons judgeth according to every man's work, pass the time of
your sojourning here in fear." Presumption and despair are
very dishonorable to God, and pernicious to the soul: The
one destroys the fear, the other the love of God. But hope con-
tempered with fear, has an excellent influence in the christian
life, as the ballast and the wind are both necessary that the ship
may sail safely; without the wind the ship can make no way;
and without ballast, it is in danger of oversetting by every gust.
Thus hope and fear are necessary to bring us safely to heaven.
Fear without hope, chills and stupifies the vigor and alacrity of
the soul, that it cannot come to God: and hope without fear,
makes it vain and careless of its duty, and liable to be overthrown
by every pleasing temptation. Briefly, let us rightly understand
the tenor of the evangelical promises of pardon and grace; they
are conditional, and applicable only to penitent believers. And
unfeigned faith purifies the heart, works by love, and is the liv-
ing principle of universal obedience. And repentance unto life,
Without faith
is productive of all good fruits in their season.
and repentance we can neither be justified in this world, nor glo-
rified in the next. "Be not deceived, God is not mocked: as
a man sows, so shall he reap. He that sows to the flesh, shall of
the flesh reap corruption: he that sows to the spirit, shall of the
spirit reap life everlasting."
OF DEATH.
377
CHAPTER VIII.
The preserving ourselves from presumptuous sins, a means to render death
comfortable. The zealous discharge of the duties of our callings, and en-
deavors to glorify God, and do good according to our abilities, will sweet-
en the thoughts of death. An indifference of mind and affections to earth-
ly things makes death less fearful. Frequent converse with God in holy
duties, makes death desirable. A steadfast belief of future happiness
makes death desirable. An excitation to the saints to die with courage and
cheerfulness. It is our duty to die with resignation and with patience, and
earnest desires to be with Christ. It is very becoming a christian to die
with joy and thanksgiving.
[2.] The careful preserving ourselves from wilful presumptu-
ous sins, is a happy means to render death comfortable to us.
Sins of ignorance and infirmity, of sudden surreption and sur-
prise, the best men are not freed from in the present state: And
being the daily motive of our grief, and serious circumspection to
prevent them, are consistent with the regular peace of conscience,
and the friendship and favor of God. But great sins in their mat-
ter being so contrary to natural conscience, and supernatural grace,
or sins presumptuous in the manner of their commission, such as
proceed from the choice of the perverse will against the enlight-
ened mind, whatever the matter or kind of them be, are direct re-
bellion against God, a despising of his command, and provoke his
pure eyes, and make the aspect of death fearful. The Spirit
seals our pardon and title to heaven as the holy Spirit; his tes-
timony, that we are the children of God, and heirs of glory, is
concurrent with the renewed conscience, and distinguished from
the ignorant presumptions, blind conjectures, and carnal security
of the unholy. As the sanctifying Spirit he distinguishes true.
christians from the lost world, appropriates them to God, con-
firms their present interest in the promises of the gospel, and
their future hopes. Briefly, grace is the most sensible effect
and design of God's special favor, the fruit of election, and the
earnest of glory: And the truth of grace is most clearly and
certainly made evident by the continual efficacy of it in the
conversation. The observation of our hearts to suppress un-
holy affections, and of our senses to prevent them, a constant
course of holiness in our lives (though many frailties will cleave
to the best) is usually rewarded with great peace here.
God has established a connexion between our obedience and
his comforts. Those that keep themselves pure from the de-
VOL. I.
48
378
OF DEATH.
1
filements of the world, have the white stone promised, the bright
jewel of assurance of God's pardoning and rewarding mercy.
We read of Enoch, that he walked with God, was a star shining
in a corrupt age; the tenor of his life was holy, and he was
translated to heaven without seeing death. Though this was
an extraordinary dispensation, yet there is a peculiar reward an-
alogical to it; for those who walk circumspectly, they shall not
see death with its terrors, but usually have a holy cheerfulness,
a peaceful joy in their passage through the dark valley to hea-
ven. But presumptuous sins against external and internal re-
straints, the convincing law of God, and the directions of con-
science, (to which even the saints of God are liable here, as ap-
pears by David's earnest prayer to be preserved from them)
such sins grieve the Holy Spirit, and wound our spirits, and, if
continued, sequester us from the comfortable privileges of the
gospel, and render us unfit for the kingdom of heaven. And
when they are retracted by repentance, yet there often remains
a bitter remembrance of them; as deep wounds, though cured,
yet are felt in change of weather. And sometimes a spring-tide
of doubts and fears breaks into humble penitent souls, in the last
hours: though death brings them safely, yet not comfortably to
heaven.
[3.] The zealous discharge of the duties of our place and
calling, the conjunction of our resolutions and endeavors to glo-
rify God; and do good according to our abilities and opportuni-
ties of service, sweetens the thoughts of death to us. For the true
end and perfection of life is the glory of God, and when with fi-
delity it is employed in order to it, death brings us to the bless-
ed rest from our labors. Our Saviour when he was to leave the
world, addressed himself to his Father, I have glorified thee on
earth, I have finished the work thou gavest me to do.
And now,
Father, glorify me with thyself, with the glory which I had with
thee before the world was, John 17. A christian that imitates
and honors Christ, and with diligence perseveres in well-doing,
may with a humble confidence in the divine mercy expect the
promised reward. The reflection upon a well-spent life is j´´ -
ed with a joyful prospect of God's favor and acceptance above.
But for the careless and remiss, to those who are wilfully negli-
gent of their duty, how fearful is death that summonses them to
give an account of their talents to the righteous Lord?
[4.] A holy indifference of affection to present things, makes
it easy to part with them, and death less fearful to us. David,
though a king, declares he was a stranger on earth not only with
respect to his transient condition, but his inward disposition; and
that he was as a weaned child from the admired vanities of the
world. Chrysostom in a letter to Ciriacus, who was tenderly
sensible of his banishment, wrote to him, "You now begin to
"lament my banishment, but I have done so for a long time :
OF DEATH.
379
"For since I knew that heaven was my country, I have esteem-
"ed the whole earth a place of exilement. Constantinople,
"from whence I am expelled, is as distant from Paradise as the
"desert to which they send me." But when our affections are
set upon external things, and we are irregular in our aims, in-
temperate in our use, and immoderate in our delights, how
sensible and cutting is the division from them? How bitter is
death that deprives a carnal wretch of all the materials of his
frail felicity? What a storm of passions is raised, to lose all
his good things at once? For it is a rule in nature, what is pos-
sessed with transporting joy, is lost with excessive sorrow. As
the ivy that twines so closely about the tree, and is intimately
fastened by so many roots as there are branches, cannot be
plucked away without rending the bark with it; so when the
world, that was as it were incarnated with the heart, is taken
away, the heart itself is grievously rent by the violent separa-
tion. *And the infelicity of carnal and worldly persons is hea-
vily aggravated, in that the guilt in procuring or abusing those
treasures and delights that they leave here with so great sor-
row, will cleave to them, and give testimony against them before
their judge. But when the affections are loose to the world,
and set upon heaven, our leaving the earth is no loss but gain,
and our separation from the body of flesh is with that alacrity,
as the putting off a vile garment to be clothed with a royal robe.
It was the wise counsel of †Tertullian to the women of the first
ages of the church, not to value and love the jewels and orna-
ments of gold, that they might be more ready and resolved to
obtain by death, martyrdom, and by martyrdom, eternal glory.
And that we may disentangle our souls from those voluntary bands
that fasten us to present things, we must have a sincere uncor-
rupted judgment of their meanness. The apostle exhorts chris-
tians to moderation in their temper and conversation, with respect
to the business and enjoyments here; that "they who have wives,
be as though they had none; that those that rejoice, be as though
they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed
not; and they that use the world, as not abusing it: For the
fashion of the world passeth away." To a wise and pondering
observer, what comparison is there between shadows and dreams,
and substantial everlasting blessedness? If men had the same
opinion of this world whilst they live, as they will have when
they are to die, they would not inordinately seek it. They who
have magnified temporal honors and riches, and lived in plea-
sures without remorse, yet in their dying hours, when men speak
*Hæc enim est infelicitas hominum, propter quæ peccant. Morientes hic
dimittunt, et ipsa peccata secum portant. Aug.
+Stemus expeditæ ad omnem vim, nihil habentes quod relinquere timea-
mus; Retinacula ista sunt spei nostræ. De Cult. Fœm.
380
OF DEATH.
1
with most feeling and least affection, how have they villified those
empty appearances of happiness? With what moving express-
ions declared the vanity and brevity of worldly things? As
when the Israelites were to go through the river Jordan, that
opened itself to make a free and dry passage for them; the low-
er part of its waters ran into the Dead Sea, and utterly failed,
Josh. 3. 16. *but the waters that came from abroad, rose up and
appeared like a mountain. Thus when men come to the univer-
sal passage from this to the next life, inferior things absolutely
fail and are lost in the Dead Sea; but the things above, that are
eternal, then appear in their true greatness, exceeding all human
comprehension: from hence is the change of mind and language
concerning the one and other.
[5.] Solemn, affectionate, and frequent converse with God in
religious duties, will render death not fearful to us. The whole
life of a christian, as such, is a continual communion with the Fa-
ther, and with Jesus Christ, 1 John 1. 3. For he performs all
good works by divine grace communicated from above, and re-
fers all to the divine honor. As in a pair of compasses, one foot
is fixed in the centre, while the other moves in the circumfer-
ence; so the heart of a christian is in heaven, his aims are for
God, whilst he is active here in the world. His natural and
civil actions are heightened to a supernatural end and thus his
conversation is in heaven. But this was spoken of before: and
that which is now specified, is the more immediate service of
God in holy meditation, prayer, and the ordinances of the gospel,
which is the noblest part of the spiritual life.
Our blessed Saviour who was a comprehensor upon earth, al-
ways saw the face of God, and invariably sought his glory in all
things, yet had his special times of prayer and heavenly com-
munion with God, and the most glorious testimonies of his favor
in those times. Our communion with God here is as true as in
heaven, but the influence and fruition is different according to
our capacity. When the soul feels the vigorous exercise of the
thoughts and affections upon God, and the raised operations of
grace in holy duties, it is as certain a sign of God's favor and
acceptance, as when fire descended from heaven to consume the
sacrifice. And often our affectionate duties are rewarded with
sensible consolations, and holy souls are dismissed from the
throne of grace, as they shall be received at the throne of glory,
with the reviving testimonies of God's approbation. Now the
assurance of God's love conquers the fear of death.
This communion must be frequent. As love and respects be-
tween friends are maintained by constant visits and letters, and
mutual confidence arises from acquaintance: so by the inter-
change of holy duties and divine favors, we preserve a lively
sense of God's love, and a humble familiarity with his majesty
*Ad instar montis intumescentis, apparebant procul.
OF DEATH.
381
that his presence is not a terror to us. A christian that walks
with God here, when he leaves the world, (to use the words of
a dying saint) changes his room but not his company. God was
always with him on earth, and he shall be ever with God in
heaven.
But cold and seldom converse begets strangeness, and that
makes us shy of God. When religious duties are performed as
a complimental visit without zealous affections, or used only in
times of affliction and exigency, as cordial waters in swooning
fits, the divine presence is uncomfortable to us. They who pre-
fer carnal sweets before acquaintance with God, cannot with
peace and joy think of appearing before him. O how unwel-
come is death to such! "for then the spirit returns to the God
that gave it."
[6.] Let us strengthen our belief of the blessed state after
death. Divine truths lose their influence and efficacy, when
they are not steadfastly believed. Faith is the substance of things
not seen, and the evidence or conviction of things hoped for,
Heb. 11. 1. The Spirit confirms our faith, not by a pure physi-
cal act, but by convincing reason of the truth of the gospel.
The life of Christ so glorious in holiness, his doctrine so becom-
ing the wisdom and other excellent attributes of the Deity; his
miracles so great and numerous, open and beneficial, not merely
to surprize the spectators with astonishment, but to touch their
hearts; his death foretold by the prophets, and exactly agreeing
in all the circumstances of the predictions; his resurrection the
most noble operation of the divine power, are the strongest
proofs that what he has revealed as the counsel of God for our
redemption, and the preparations of glory for the saints in hea-
ven, are divine truths. And the efficacy of the spirit of Christ
in sanctifying his disciples in all ages, is a continual and as satis-
fying an argument that the gospel is derived from God the foun-
tain of truth, as extraordinary miracles. For holiness is as in-
separable a property of the divine nature as omnipotence, and
the sanctification of the soul as divine an effect as the resurrec-
tion of the body. Now in the gospel God enters into covenant
with obedient believers, "to be their God," a title and relation,
that supposing them the most happy here, all the enjoyments of
this world cannot fulfil. This covenant is not dissolved by death,
for he uses this style after the death of his faithful servants:
and from hence it follows they are partakers of his glory and
joys in the next life. For the honor of his veracity is most dear
to him. The Psalmist declares that he has "magnified his word
above all his name." No perfections of his nature are more sa-
cred and inviolable than his truth. The foundations of nature
shall be overturned, and the most solid parts of the creation des-
troyed, but his promises shall be completely accomplished. We
are assured by his infallible authority, that "there remains a
382
OF DEATH.
rest for the people of God." And "he that receives this testi-
mony sets to his seal that God is true;" honors the truth of
God's word, and binds himself more firmly to his service, and is
encouraged to leave this sensible world for that which is infinite-
ly better. Our confidence and patience in well-doing, and in
suffering the utmost evil to nature, is from the pregnant appre-
hensions of the reality of eternal things. We know, saith the
Apostle, if our earthly tabernacle be dissolved, we have a build-
ing not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, 2 Cor. 5. 1.
This fortified him against the terrors of death. When "Ste-
phen saw the heavens open, and the Son of God ready to re-
ceive him," with what courage and constancy did he encounter
the bloody rage of his murderers? Faith supplies the want of
vision, it pierces the clouds, opens a window in heaven, sees the
crowns of righteousness prepared for the saints, and sweetens
the bitterest passage to it. But if our faith be weak and waver-
ing, our courage will decline in the needful hour. It is with
christians in their last passage from earth to heaven, as with St.
Peter walking upon the waters to Christ: whilst his faith was
firm in Christ, he went upon the waves, as on the firm land; but
upon the rising of a storm, his faith sunk into fear, and he sunk
in the waters; till our Saviour upon his earnest prayer,
"Lord
save me," took hold of him, and raised hini with that compassion-
ate reproof, "O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt."
The last use is, to excite the saints to die with that courage
and cheerfulness "as becomes the gospel of Christ." The en-
couragement of Joshua to the Israelites against the giants that
terrified them from entering into the land of Canaan, the type of
heaven, "be not afraid of them, they are bread for us," we shall
obtain an easy conquest over them, is applicable to this purpose:
do not fear death, the enemy that interposes between us and the
true Canaan; for our conflict shall be the means of our victory,
and triumphant possession of the holy and blessed land above.
This is very honorable to our Redeemer, and recommends god-
liness to the judgment, affections and practice of others. St. Ba-
sil* tells of a custom to anoint the tops of doves wings with some
fragrant liquors, that mixing in company with other doves, they
might by the scent allure them to follow to the dove-houses.
Thus when holy persons live and die with peaceful joy, those
that converse with them are drawn by that fragrance of Paradise
to apply themselves to serious religion.
It is the Apostle's consolatory advice to believers, not to be
sorrowful for those that sleep in Jesus, as those that are without
hope, 1 Thes. 4.
When Jacob saw his beloved son's coat rent and stained with
blood, he abandoned himself to desperate sorrow, and continued
* Epist. Jul.
OF DEATH.
383
mourning for his death, when Joseph was advanced in authority
and dignity next to Pharaoh, in the kingdom of Egypt. Thus
when we see the garment of mortality rent by diseases, we
mourn for departed saints, as if death had absolutely destroyed
them, when their souls are reigning in glory. This immoderate
sorrow is a heathenish passion, suitable to their ignorance of the
future happy state, but very unbecoming the plenary assurance
the gospel affords us of it. Indeed for the wicked to die with
fears and palpitations of heart, to be surrounded with impendent
horrors, when such a precipice and depth of misery is before
them, is very just and reasonable; but for the saints to die un-
comfortably under inordinate fears, is a disparagement to the
blessed hope established upon the revelation of life and immor-
tality by the gospel.
Now in three things I shall propound the duty of dying chris-
tians.
1. To submit to the divine pleasure with resigned spirits, as
to the means, the manner, and time of death. God has a sove-
reign right and dominion over us. The present life is his most
free favor, and he may justly resume it when he pleases. His will
should be the first and last rule of ours. Whether he gently
untwines the band of life, or violently breaks it, we must pla-
cidly without reluctation yield up ourselves. By what means
soever death comes, all second causes are moved by an impress-
ion from above, in what age of life soever; all our times are ap-
pointed by the divine counsel: and a saint ought with that readi-
ness and meek submission to receive it, as if he heard an ex-
press voice from heaven calling him to God, and say in his heart
with Samuel, "here I am, thou didst call me." This is the last
act of our obedience, and very pleasing to God. We read of
the marvellous *consent of Abraham, and his son Isaac, the father
to offer up his son, and the son his life, (that were both the gifts of
God) in compliance with the divine command, and from heaven he
declared his high approbation of it. This is to make a virtue of
necessity, and turn nature into grace. But discontent and re-
luctancy, as if our lives were our own, and taken from us un-
justly or unseasonably, is rebellious unthankfulness, unbecoming
a creature, much more a true christian, who exchanges a per-
ishing life for that which is eternal.
2. To receive death not only with patience, but earnest de-
sires to be with Christ. I know death is naturally unwelcome.
Our Saviour tells St. Peter, when thou art old, another shall
bind thee, and lead thee where thou wouldst not, Jøhn 21. 41.
signifying his martyrdom. The circumstance (when thou art
*Ille exerit gladium, ille cervicem, uno voto unâ devotione: sub tanto non
dicam humanitatis, sed potius naturæ ipsius metu, læti sunt.
384
OF DEATH.
old) is remarkable, and intimates the natural unwillingness to
die, when there was little time to live. But this rational sanc-
tified will was superior and prevalent. The universal desire of
the saints is to be happy in the presence of God: for the divine
nature communicated to them is intelligent, and inclining towards
its chief good and if the obtaining it were not by "being un-
clothed, but clothed upon" by an immediate translation to hea-
ven, how willingly would they leave this world? But there is
a bitterness in death that makes it unpleasant; and many holy
souls that desire the glorious liberty in heaven, yet are loth to
leave their prison. Now there are so many arguments to make
the saints desirous of dying, that methinks since life is chiefly
valued and dear to them, as it is the way to heaven, when they
are come to that blessed end, it should not be longer desirable.
What is this lower world that chains us so fast? It is the de-
vil's circuit wherein he ranges, seeking "whom he may devour."
It is the theatre of contentions. The low aspire to rise; the
exalted fear to fall: the poor envy the rich, and the rich despise
the poor. It is a foreign country to the saints, and as pilgrims
and strangers, they are liable to reproaches, injuries and hard
dealings from the wicked, the natives of the earth. What is the
present momentary life that so enamors us? It is surrounded
with temptations, oppressed with fears, ardent with irregular de-
sires, and continually spent in vanity or vexation. In adversity
it is depressed and melancholy; in prosperity foolish and proud.
It is a real infelicity under the deceitful appearance of felicity.
But above all other motives, the evil of sin from which we can-
not be clearly exempted here, should render death desirable.
The best suffer internal divisions between "the law of the flesh,
and the law of the mind;" as Rebecca felt the twins, Esau and
Jacob, repugnant in her womb. How hard is it to be continu-
ally watching the heart that corruptions do not break out, and
the senses that temptations do not break in? How difficult to
order the affections, to raise what is drooping, and suppress what
is rebellious? For they are like the people of whom the his-
torian speaks, qui nec totam servitutem pati possunt, nec totam
libertatem. How many enemies of our salvation are lodged in
our own bosoms? The falls of the saints give sad evidence of
this. If the body were unspotted from the world, as in the cre-
ation of man, there might be a just plea of our unwillingness to
part with it; but since it is the incentive and instrument of sin,
we should desire to be dissolved, that we might be perfectly ho-
ly. Death is the final remedy of all the temporal and spiritual
evils to which we are liable here. And the love of Christ
should make us willing to part with all the endearments of this
*Secutus à corpore volebat esse cum Christo, sed si fieri posset præter
mortis molestiam. Nolens ad eam venit, sed volens eam vicit. Aug. Tract.
123. in Joan.
OF DEATH.
385
life, nay, desirous to enter into the celestial Paradise, though we
must pass under the angel's sword, the stroke of death, to come
into his presence. He infinitely deserves our love, for we owe
our salvation and eternal glory to the merit of his humiliation,
and the power of his exaltation. With what earnest affections
did St. Paul desire "to be dissolved and to be with Christ ?"
Phil. 1. Love gave wings of fire to his soul, ardent desires.
mounting to heaven. How valiant were the martyrs in express-
ing acts of love to Christ? How boldly did they encounter
death, that interposed between them and the sight of his glory?
Their love was hotter than the flames that consumed them.
They as willingly left their bodies, as Elias let fall his mantle to
ascend to heaven. And how does it upbraid the coldness of our
love, that we are so contented to be here, absent from our Sa-
viour. That the moles of the earth, who never saw the light of
the sun, and feed on bitter roots, are pleased in their dark re-
ceptacles, is no wonder; but if birds that are refreshed with his
cheerful beams, and feed on sweet fruits, should willingly be
confined in caverns of the earth, it were naturally strange.
Thus for Pagans, (and those who are so in heart, though differ-
ent in profession) that are so short-sighted and depraved, that
they only perceive and affect present sensible things, for them
to be unwilling to die is no wonder; for then all that is valuable
and delightful to them, is lost forever; but for those who are en-
lightened by the revelation of God so clearly concerning the
state of glory, and have tasted the goodness of the Lord, and
know the incomparable difference between the mean and frail
felicity here, and the inestimable immutable felicity hereafter, for
them to be unwilling to leave this world for that which is infi-
nitely better, is astonishing. Such was the love of our Saviour,
that his personal glory in heaven did not fully content him, with-
out the saints partaking of it with him: father, I will that those
whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they
may behold my glory, John 17. If our hearts do not answer
his, it is a sad indication that we have not an interest in him:
for the application of his merits is always joined with the imi-
tation of his virtues, and the reflection of his love. The lovers
of Christ will join with the inflamed spouse, draw us, and we
will run after thee, Cant. 1. O loosen our affections from this
world, that we may ascend to thee: they will renew the sighs
of holy David in his banishment, "O when shall we come and
appear before God!"
Lastly, to die with thanksgiving and joy. It is usual to com-
pare this life to a voyage: the scripture is the chart that des-
cribes the coasts we must pass, and the rocks we must avoid :
faith is the compass that directs the course we must steer: love is
the rudder that governs the motion of the ship: hope fills the
sails. Now what passenger does not rejoice at the discovery of
VOL. I.
49
386
OF DEATH.
*
his country where his estate and heart is, and more at the near
approach to the port where he is to land? Is not heaven the
country of the saints? Is not their birth from above, and their
tendency to their original? And is not the blessed bosom of
Christ their port? Ŏ what joyful thanksgivings are due to God,
when by his Spirit and providence, they have happily finished
their voyage through such dangerous seas, and are coming into
the land of the living? How joyful was to Noah the coming of
the dove with an olive-branch, to shew him the deluge was as-
suaged, and the time was come of his freedom from the trouble-
some company of animals, and from the straitness and darkness
of the ark, to go forth and possess the world? How joyful should
death be to a saint, that comes like the dove in the evening, to
assure him the deluge of misery is ceased, and the time is come
of his enlargement from the body, his deliverance from the
wretched sinful society here, and his possessing the divine world?
Holy souls are immediately transported by the angels to Christ,
and by him presented to his Father," without spot or wrinkle,"
complete in holiness, and prepared for communion with him in
glory. How joyfully are they received into heaven by our Sa-
viour and the blessed spirits? They are the reward of his suf-
ferings, the precious and dear purchase of his blood. The angels
that rejoice at the conversion of a sinner, do much more at the
glorification of a saint: and the "church of the first born," who
have before us entered into glory, have a new accession of joy,
when their younger brethren arrive to the undefiled immortal in-
heritance. And is it not very becoming believers, joyfully to
ascend to the seat of blessedness, to the happy society that in-
spires mutual joys forever? For our encouragement, there are
numerous instances of believers that have with peace and joy,
though in various degrees, passed through the dark valley, to the
inheritance of light. Some have died with more † joy than they
lived, and triumphed over the last enemy with the vocal praises
of God: others with silent affections have quietly commended
their spirits into his hand. Some have inward refreshings and
support; others exuberent joys and ravishments, as if the light
of glory shined into them, or the veil of flesh were drawn, and
their spirits were present with the invisible world. Some of the
martyrs in their cruelest sufferings felt such impressions of confi-
dence and alacrity, that as in the house of Lamech there were ac-
corded at the same time two discordant callings by the two broth-
ers; Jubal the inventer of the harp and organ, and Tubal-Cain
the first artificer in brass and iron, Gen. 4. the one practised on
* Quamdiu in Salo isto, tamdiu inter naufragia.
† Accitus sum ad id miraculi, videre exultantem in morte hominem, et in-
sultantem morti. Bern. 26. Serm. in Cant.
OF DEATH.
387
instruments of music, breathing harmonious sounds and melodies;
the other used hammers and anvils, making noise and tumult: so
in some persons, whilst the heaviest strokes fell on their bodies,
their souls were ravished with the sweetest joy and exultation.
Indeed it is not thus always with the saints: for though sin be
pardoned, yet the apprehensions of guilt may remain. When a
stream is disturbed, it does not truly represent the object when
the affections are disordered, the mind does not judge aright of a
christian's state. A serpent may hiss when it has lost its sting.
Death may terrify when it cannot hurt us. I doubt not but some
excellent saints have been in anxieties to the last, till their fears
were dispelled by the actual fruition of blessedness. As the sun
sometimes sets in dark clouds, and rises in a glorious horizon.
We read our evidences for heaven by the light of God's counten-
ance his image is made visible in our souls by the illustration of
his Spirit and he exercises prerogative in the dispensation of
his comforts. It is his pleasure to bestow extraordinary favors
on some, and deny them to others that are as holy. But every
penitent believer has just cause of joy in death for Jesus Christ
has reconciled God, destroyed satan, and conquered death: and
the last day of his life is the first of his glory.
OF
ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
ACTS XVII. 31.
Because he hath appointed a day, in the which he will judge the
world in righteousness, by that man whom he hath ordained;
whereof he hath given assurance unto all men, in that
he hath raised him from the dead.
CHAPTER I.
The coherence of the text opened. The determining a time, and the desig-
nation of the person to judge the world, are expressed. God is king of the
world by creation. The two principal parts of his sovereignty, are giving
laws to rule his subjects, and to pass final judgment according to those
laws. His essential attributes qualify him for the exercise of government.
The Son of God united to the human nature, is wisely appointed to judge
men. The quality of this office requires no less person, upon the account
of its superlative dignity, and immense difficulty. It is the reward of his
sufferings. The Day of Judgment is styled the great day in several res-
pects. To define the particular time, is beyond the knowledge of any
mere creature.
Saint Paul had this title of honor eminently conferred upon
him, the "Apostle of the Gentiles:" this office he performed with
persevering diligence, diffusing "the light of life to those that
sat in darkness, and in the shadow of death.'
"" In this chapter,
we have recorded the substance of his sermon to the Athenians;
wherein his admirable zeal and prudence are remarkable, in the
matter and order of his discourse, to convince and persuade them
to receive the saving truth of the gospel. He first lays down the
principles of natural religion, to prepare them for the more easy
belief of supernatural revealed religion. The depravation of the
minds of men was in no instance more prodigious, than in their
villifying conceits of the Deity: they attributed his name and
390
!
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
honor to various idols, and ascribed to him their own figure, and,
which was infinitely more unworthy and dishonorable, their own
passions and vices. They adored their own vain imaginations:
the idols of their hearts were erected on their altars. Venus
was a goddess, because impure love reigned in their breast. Bac-
chus had religious rites, because sensual pleasures, as sweet as
wine, intoxicated their spirits. These errors, as gross as impious,
were universal; the philosophers themselves were not exempted
from the contagion. The apostle therefore makes use of the
clearest arguments, to give authority to the plain conspiring
voice of nature, that had so long in vain recalled them from idol-
atry to the worship of the only true God. He therefore declares,
that the divine maker of all things, the Father of Spirits, could
not be represented by corporeal and corruptible things, verse
29. but was to be acknowledged and adored in a manner be-
coming his spiritual and infinite perfections. That he made all
nations of one blood, ver. 26. though distinguished in their ha-
bitations and times, that they might seek and serve one univer-
sal creator. And though the Pagan world for many ages had
lived in an unnatural oblivion of God, and he seemed uncon-
cerned for their violation of his laws; yet it was not from the
defect of justice, but the direction of his wisdom, that his pa-
tience was so long extended to them. And this he proves by
the new and most express declaration of his will: "but now he
commandeth all men every where to repent; because he hath
appointed a day, in which he will judge the world in righteous-
ness, by that man whom he hath ordained; whereof he hath
given assurance to all men, in that he raised him from the dead.”
In the words, the eternal counsels of God are revealed, in two
great things:
1. The determining a time wherein he will righteously judge
the world: he hath appointed a day.
2. The designation of the person by whom he will perform
that eminent part of sovereignty; by Jesus Christ, whom he
hath raised from the dead.
In order to the handling of the main point, it is requisite to pre-
mise briefly some propositions.
[1.] That God is the universal monarch of the world, and has
supreme authority to govern reasonable creatures, antecedent to
their election and consent. The Psalmist calls to the heathen,
know ye that the Lord is God, Psal. 100. 3. that is, the most
glorious being, and absolute sovereign; "For it is he that
made us, and not we ourselves." He formed all things by his
almighty goodness, and is king by creation.
[2.] The two principal and necessary parts of his sovereign-
ty are, to give laws for the ruling of his subjects, and to pass
final judgment upon them for their obedience or disconformity to
his precepts. Mere natural agents are regulated by a wise es-
tablishment, that is the law of their creation: the sun and stars
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
391
:
are moved according to the just points of their compass: the
angels are under a law in heaven, "and obey his command-
ments."
The human nature of Christ, though advanced to the
highest capacity of a creature, yet received a law and his
whole work upon earth for our salvation, was an act of obedi-
ence to the will of God. If a prince, out of affection to his
friend, will leave his own dominions, and live privately with him
in a foreign country, he must be subject to the laws of that place.
Indeed, it is not conceivable, that a creature should be without a
law; for this is to make it supreme and independent: supreme,
in not being liable to a superior power to confine and order it;
independent, as to its being and operations; for dependence ne-
cessarily infers subjection. There is a visible connexion be-
tween those titles; the Lord is our Judge, the Lord is our law-
giver, the Lord is our king; Isa. 33. 22. And sometimes in scrip-
ture his sovereighty is intimated in the title of a judge: Thus
in that humble expostulation of Abraham for Sodom; "Shall not
the judge of all the world do right"? He addresses his request
to God under that title, to soften his power, and incline his
clemency to save the wicked for their sakes who were compara-
tively righteous, that is, innocent of their crying sins.
[3.] As his right to govern and judge the world is natural, so
are his attributes, his wisdom, holiness, justice and power, that
qualify and render him most worthy to exercise this government.
These are finite separable qualities in angels or men, but essen-
tial perfections to the Deity. It is more rational to conceive,
that things may be congealed by the heat of fire, or turned black
by whiteness, than that the least act of injustice can be done by
the righteous Lord. The Apostle rejects, with extreme detes-
tation, the blasphemous charge of unrighteousness in God's pro-
ceedings is God unrighteous, that taketh vengeance? God for-
bid for then how shall God judge the world? Rom. 3. 5. 6.
He may as soon renounce his nature, and cease to be God, (for
as such he is necessarily judge of the world) as violate his own
perfections in his judicial proceedings with us.
:
[4.] God being invisible in his own nature, hath most wisely
ordained the last judgment of the word to be transacted by a visi-
ble person; because men are to be judged and the whole process
of judgment with them will be for things done in the body. The
person appointed for this great work, is Jesus Christ the Son of
God, united to the human nature. The Father judgeth no man,
John 5. 22. not as if he descended from the throne, and divested
himself of his supremacy, but not immediately; but hath committ-
ed all judgment to the Son. And it follows, as the Father hath life
in himself, so hath he given to the son to have life in himself; and
hath given him authority to execute judgment also, because he
is the son of man; ver. 26. 27. that is, in the quality of mediator,
for the reward of his sufferings. The quality of this office re-
392
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
quires no less person for the discharge of it, than the Son of
God.
1. Upon the account of its superlative dignity. No mere
creature is capable of such a glorious commission to pass a sov-
ereign sentence upon angels and men, is a royalty reserved for
God himself. We read, that no man in heaven or earth was able
to open the sealed book of his eternal counsels, as unsearchable as
deep, Rev. 5. only Jesus Christ, who was in the bosom of the fa-
ther, the seat of his counsels and compassions, and was acquainted
with all his glorious secrets, could unfold the order of the Divine
decrees about the church. And if no creature was worthy to be
admitted into God's counsel, much less to be taken into his
throne: the eternal Son, "the express image of his person," is
alone fit to be his authorized representative in judgment. Our
Saviour declares, that the Father invested the Son with this re-
gal power, that all men should honor the Son, John 5. 23. with
the same religious reverence, and supreme adoration, as they
honor the Father.
2. Upon the account of the immense difficulty, no mere crea-
ture is able to discharge it. To judge the world, includes two
things: 1. To pass a righteous and irrevocable judgment upon
men for all things done in this life. 2. The actual execution of
the sentence And for this no less than infinite wisdom and
infinite power are necessary. If a select number of angels of
the highest order were deputed, yet they could not manage the
judicial trial of one man: for besides the innumerable acts and
omissions in one life, the secrets of the heart, from whence the
guilt or goodness of moral actions is principally derived, are
not open to them. He alone that discerns all things, can require
an account of all.
3. The son of man is invested with this high office, as the re-
ward of his sufferings. We must distinguish between the es-
sential and economical power of Christ. The Son of God, con-
sidered in his divine nature, has an original power of judgment
equal with the Father; but considered as Mediator, has a
power of delegation. In the quality of the Son of Man, he is in-
ferior in dignity to the Father. The Apostle declares this in
that scale of subordination of the creatures to believers, and of
believers to Christ, and of Christ to God; "all things are yours,
and you are Christ's, and Christ is God's." And observing the
beautiful order that arises from the superiority and dependance
between things, he saith, the "head of every man is Christ, and
the head of the woman is the man, and the head of Christ is God."
Now this power by commission was conferred upon him, as the
reward of his sufferings. The Apostle expressly declares it,
that Christ being in the form of God, and without any usurpa-
tion truly equal to him in divine perfections and majesty, "hum-
bled himself, and became obedient to the death of the cross.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
393
Wherefore God hath highly exalted him, and given him a name
above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should
bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under
the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ
is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." His victorious suf-
ferings are the titles to his triumphs; his being so ignominiously
depressed and condemned by men, is the just reason of his ad-
vancement to judge the world.
[5.] There is a day appointed wherein the Son of man will
appear in sensible glory, and exercise his judicial power upon
angels and men. He is now "seated at the right hand of the
Majesty on High," and the celestial spheres are under his feet:
universal nature feels the power of his sceptre: he reigns in the
hearts of the saints by his Word and Spirit, and restrains the
fury of his enemies in what degrees he pleases: but still his
servants are in distress, and his rebellious enemies insolently
break his laws; and the curtains of heaven conceal his glory
from us therefore a time is prefixed when in the face of the
world he will make an eternal difference by rewards and pun-
ishments, between the righteous and the wicked, and his govern-
ment shall have its complete and glorious issue. This is styled
the "Judgment of the great day."
1. With respect to the appearance of the judge. When the
law was given from mount Sinai, the mountain was covered with
fire, and the voice of God as loud as thunder proclaimed it from
the midst of the flames, so that the whole army of the Israelites
was prostrate on the plain, struck with the sacred horror, and al-
most dead at the amazing sights and sounds. From hence it is
said, that "in his right hand was a fiery law." And if the law-
giver appeared in such terrible majesty at the proclaiming the
law, how much more when he shall come to revenge the trans-
gressions of it? It is set forth in Scripture in the most lofty and
magnificent expressions: he shall come in his Father's glory,
and his own glory, and the glory of the angels, Luke 9. 26. A
devouring fire shall go before him, to consume all the works of
the universe. He shall descend from the highest heavens, glori-
ous in the attendance of innumerable angels, but more in his own
majesty, and sit on a radiant throne high above all.
2. It is great with respect to the appearance of those who are
to be judged all the apostate angels, and the universal progeny
of Adam. The bowels of the earth, and the bottom of the sea,
and all the elements shall give up the dead. The mighty angels,
the winged ministers of justice, shall fly to all parts, and attack
the wicked to bring them as miserable prisoners before that high
tribunal. And those blessed powerful spirits shall congregate
the righteous, to present them at his right hand.
3. It is great with respect to what shall be then done: he
shall perform the most glorious and consummate act of his regal
VOL. I.
50
394
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
office; after a righteous trial, pronounce judgment, upon which
the eternal destiny of the world depends. And immediately
the saints shall ascend with him to the everlasting mansions of
glory, and the wicked shall be swallowed up in the fiery gulf
forever.
To define the particular time when this shall be accomplished,
is beyond the knowledge of the angels of highest dignity, it is
inter arcana imperii, among the secrets of the kingdom of hea-
ven. It is observable, that God has revealed the times precise-
ly wherein some great events should come to pass; after how ma-
ny years the Israelites should be freed from Egyptian bondage;
after what space of time they should be restored from the captivity
of Babylon; when the Messiah should die for the expiation of
sin; but there is no designation by certain characters of the
particular day, nor year, nor age in any prophecy, of our Saviour's
coming to judgment. And of this an account may be given.
The special end of those predictions was, that those who lived
to see their accomplishment, notwithstanding the seeming impos-
sibilities, might believe the truth and power of God to fulfil the
revelation of his purposes for the time to come. But at the
last day, all the promises and threatenings will be fulfilled, no-
thing will remain to be the object of faith; and consequently it
was superfluous to declare the certain time, since the exact ac-
complishment of it according to the prediction, will neither be
useful to confirm believers, or convert infidels.
Lastly, the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the most convinc-
ing and commanding evidence of this doctrine, that he shall
judge the world. For he was charged with blasphemy deserv-
ing of death for this testimony: I say unto you, hereafter shall
you see the son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and
coming in the clouds of heaven, Matth. 26. 64. He dedicated
martyrdom in his own sufferings. Now God in raising him from
the dead, confirmed the truth of his testimony by that visible
miracle, and the belief of it converted the world to Christianity.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
395
CHAPTER II.
God will righteously judge the world by Jesus Christ. The righteousness of
God's judicial proceedings will appear by considering the equity of the
law, the rule of judgment: the law of nature considered in its precepts
and penalties. The precepts are such as becomes the creator to give,
and the reasonable creature to receive. An answer to the objection, that
the law being pure and perfect, and man in a frail state, it seems hard to re-
quire perfect obedience from him, and condemn him for failings. The
law of faith considered. Our innocence being lost, repentance is allowed.
Sincere obedience is accepted, where perfection is wanting. Unfeigned
faith in the redeemer is the condition of our justification and glorification.
The not complying with the gospel terms of salvation, proceeds from the
perverse wills of men.
I will now proceed to illustrate and prove the main point, which
is this.
That God will judge the world in righteousness by Jesus Christ.
The Mediator, who shall be judge in the union of both natures,
considered as the Son of God, is essentially holy and righteous;
and considered as the Son of man, was "holy, harmless, unde-
filed, and separate from sinners." In him all virtues shined in
their absolute purity: and who is so worthy and qualified to re-
ward holiness and punish wickedness as "the holy one of God?"
It is said of him, thou hast loved righteousness, and hated ini-
quity, therefore thy God hath anointed thee with oil of gladness
above thy fellows, Heb. 1. 9. consecrated him to the regal office,
and enriched his human nature with endowments suitable to it.
It was prophesied of him the spirit of the lord shall rest upon
him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of coun-
sel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the
Lord; and shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of
the Lord and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes,
neither reprove after the hearing of his ears; but with righteous-
ness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity, Isa. 11. 2.
3, 4. Human judgments are often unrighteous, from vicious res-
pects and affections that pervert the will, or fair appearances
that deceive the understanding: by gifts or guile, innocence is
cast, and guilt acquitted; but the judge of the world is inflexible
to partiality, and all things" are entirely open to his sight." In
the act of judgment he is represented sitting on a white throne,
Rev. 20. 11. the emblem of unspotted holiness.
:
The righteousness of God's judicial proceedings will appear, by
considering three things.
396
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
I.
ment.
The equity of his law, the rule of the great and final judg-
II. The evidence of the facts and matter, which shall be pro-
duced as the reason of the judgment.
III. The impartiality of the sentence.
I. The equity of the law which shall be the rule of the last
judgment. This will appear by considering the law of nature,
and the law of faith, in their precepts and penalties, annexed to
enforce the observation of them.
[I.] The law of nature, which is the rule of man's duty, will be
the rule of judgment: for without the law there is no transgres-
sion; and consequently a person is unaccountable for his actions.
This law is composed of such rules as are most becoming the
wise and gracious Creator to give, and the reasonable creature
to receive and obey: for they entirely agree and concentre in
his glory, and the good of his subjects. The Apostle adorns the
law with the most excellent eulogy; it is holy, just, and good,
Rom. 7. 12. Holy, as it enjoins all acts of piety to God: the
adoration of his majesty resulting from his inexpressible divine
perfections, the imitation of his purity, a reliance on his goodness,
a resignation to his most wise providence, and a dutiful obedi-
ence to his will. Such a sense of our dependance and subjec-
tion to God, is the proper character of the reasonable creature,
as dignified above inanimate and mere sensitive beings. "The
law is just," as it directs us how to demean ourselves in our va-
rious relations. Justice is the cement of societies, without which
they disband and fall into confusion. And the sum of the law is
virtually comprised in one rule, "to do to others as we would
they should do to us," than which nothing is more equal. It is
good to man that keeps it, commanding nothing but what is influ-
ential upon his well-being here and forever. It does not infringe
his true freedom, but allows him unstained delights, and enjoins
what is proper to advance and secure his dignity, felicity and
perfection. It forbids every thing that defiles and debases him,
and causes a degeneration from his native excellency. If we pre-
scind in our thoughts the sacred authority of the lawgiver, all the
precepts of the law for their moral goodness deserve our esteem
and choice, and entire observation. The sanctified mind approves
them universally. I esteem all thy precepts concerning all things
to be right, saith holy David, Psal. 119. 128. Nay, in the wicked
there is an intellectual assent to the goodness of the law, though
the corrupt will doth not embrace it: there are some inclinations
and wishes to obey it, but controlled by vicious desires. It is
said of the convinced sinner, Thou knowest his will, and approv-
est the things that are more excellent, Rom. 2. 18.
It may be objected, that the law being pure, and man in a frail
state, surrounded with innumerable temptations, to require per-
fect obedience from him, and condemn him for his failings, seems
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
397
hard. The law lays a restraint upon all the senses, and forbids
all fleshly lusts: this may be easy to separate souls, but for men
to live in the body, as if they were out of it, to be always vigil-
ant against the insinuations or attacks of sin, is impossible.
Thus the carnal mind is apt with some color, to traduce the
righteousness of God's government. But it will be clearly vin-
dicated, by considering,
1. The law supposes man in a state of integrity, furnished with
sufficient power to comply with every precept, though free to
fall from his duty and happiness. To command absolute impos-
sibilities is tyrannical, and utterly inconsistent with the nature of
the blessed God.
2. The first man wilfully transgressed the law, and lost his ho-
liness and nature being poisoned in the fountain, is corrupt in
all the descendants from him. Mankind was justly degraded in
rebellious Adam, and is destitute of spiritual strength to perform
all that the law requires.
3. This disability is vicious and culpable, and can be no pre-
tence against the rights of the lawgiver. A natural disability
from the want of requisite faculties is a just excuse.
It is no
fault that a man cannot stop the sun, as Joshua did; nor calm a
tempest, as our Saviour did by his word. But the disability that
arises from a depraved disposition, renders a person more guilty.
And this is the present case. The will of man is disobedient and
perverse, and as soon as it can exercise election, chooses evil;
and by custom in sin becomes more hardened and obstinate. And
from hence the prophet charges the contumacious Jews; Behold,
their ear is uncircumcised, and they cannot hearken, Jer. 6. 10.
Were they uncapable of hearing the divine commands? No; but
the word of the Lord was to them a reproach, they had no de-
light in it.
And our Saviour upbraids the Pharisees, How can
ye believe, which receive honor one of another, and seek not the
honor that comes from God only? John 5. 44. They were in
high reputation for their holiness, which made it impossible for
them in a humble penitent manner to submit to our Saviour. In
short, the primary end of the law was the happiness of man in
the performance of his duty; and his first sin, and consequent
impotence to fulfil it, was by his own fault. As the obliquity of
a line cannot be ascribed to the straight rule, but to the error of
the hand that draws it. And from hence it is clear, that if God
should with a terrible exactness require of men unsinning obedi-
ence upon the pain of damnation, he could not be taxed with un-
righteousness.
[2.] But God has been pleased to mitigate and allay the se-
verity of the law by the gospel; so that although the least breach
of it makes a person an offender and obnoxious to judgment, yet
the law of faith propounds such merciful conditions to the guilty,
that upon the performance of them, they may plead their pardon
2
398
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
sealed with the blood of their Redeemer, and shall be saved and
crowned in the day of judgment. We are commanded so to speak
and do, as they that shall be judged by the law of liberty, James
2. 12. Thus the gospel is styled, in that it frees the conscience,
though not from the obedience, yet from the terrors and condem-
nation of the law; for there was not the least signification of mer-
cy by it. But in the gospel, the grace of God most illustriously
appears.
1. In that when our innocence was lost, there may be a reno-
vation of the sinner by repentance, to which the plenary pardon
of sin is assured: Wash ye, make ye clean, put away the evil of
your doings from before mine eyes: cease to do evil, and learn
to do well, saith the Lord and though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson,
they shall be white like wool, Isa. 1. 16, 17, 18. God will not
pardon those who forgive and flatter themselves in their sins;
but those who confess and forsake them, shall find mercy.
2. Sincerity of obedience is accepted where perfection is want-
ing. When a person with consent of heart and serious endeav-
ors strives to obey the holy will of God, without the exception
of any known duty, or the indulgence of any sin, God will spare
him, as a father spares his son that serves him, Mal. 3. 17. It is
not so much the matter as the allowance that makes sin deadly.
Where there is guile in the heart, it will be severely imputed.
It is not according to some particular acts of sin, but the tenor of
the life, that the state of man will be decided.
3. Unfeigned faith in the Lord Jesus, that is, such a belief of
the truth and goodness of his promises, as induces us "to receive
him as our Prince and Saviour," as purifies the conscience, the
heart and life, will free us from hell, and entitle us to heaven,
according to the covenant of grace. In short, the final resolution
of a man's trial and case will be this; either he has performed
the gracious conditions of the gospel, and he shall be saved; or
rejected them, and he shall be damned.
If it be objected, that the terms of evangelical justification,
though in themselves comparatively easy, yet are of impossible
performance to men in their natural sinful state, the answer is
clear:
(1.) That although the natural man be dead in sin, without
spiritual strength to resolve and perform his duty, and holy heat
of desires to it; and nothing is alive in him but his corrupt pas-
sions, that are like worms generated in a carcass; yet by the
grace that is offered in the gospel, he may be enabled to per-
form the conditions of it: for in this the gospel excels the law,
the law discovers sin, but affords no degrees of supernatural
power to subdue it, and directs to no means for the expiation of
its guilt. As the fire in the bush discovered the thorns without
consuming them. But the sanctifying Spirit the true spring of
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
399
life and power, 2 Tim. 1. 7. is the concomitant of the gospel, as
St. Peter declares, With the preaching of the gospel, the Holy
Ghost was sent down from heaven, 1 Pet. 1. 12. And the Spirit
by illuminating, preventing and exciting grace assists men to repent
and believe; and is promised in rich and liberal supplies to all that
humbly and ardently pray for it. This our Saviour assures to
us, by a most tender and endearing comparison: If ye that are
evil, know how to give good things to your children; how much
more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those
that ask it? Luke 11. 13.
(2.) From hence it follows, that it is from the perverseness
of the will, and the love of sin, that men do not obey the gospel.
For the Holy Spirit never withdraws his gracious assistance, till
resisted, grieved, and quenched by them. It will be no excuse,
that divine grace is not conferred in the same eminent degree
upon some as upon others that are converted, for the impenitent
shall not be condemned for want of that singular powerful grace
that was the privilege of the elect, but for receiving in vain that
measure of common grace that they had. If he that received
one talent had faithfully improved it, he had been rewarded with
more; but upon the slothful and ingrateful neglect of his duty,
he was justly deprived of it, and cast into a dungeon of horror,
the emblem of hell. The sentence of the law has its full force
upon impenitent sinners, with intolerable aggravations for neg-
lecting the salvation of the gospel.
Concerning the heathens, the scripture declares,
1. That although the law published by Moses was not commu-
nicated to them, yet there was a silent, though less perfect im-
pression of it in their hearts. The law of nature in the funda-
mental precepts of religion, and society, and temperance, was
better known than obeyed by them. Therefore the apostle in-
dicts them for atrocious crimes, Rom. 1. 26, 27. such as natural
conscience, consenting with the law of God, severely forbids
upon the pain of damnation. Thus it is said of the heathens,
Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit
such things are worthy of death; not only commit the same, but
have pleasure in them that do them, Rom. 1. 32. And at the
last day, As many as have sinned without the law, as delivered
to the Jews, shall be judged and perish, not according to the law
of Moses, Rom. 2. but the law of nature that obliged them to
do good, and restrain themselves from evil; of which the coun-
terpart was not totally deleted in their hearts.
2. Although the revelation of Christ in his person, office and
benefits, is not by the preaching of the gospel (that is necessary
for the begetting of faith) extended to all nations; yet the
grace of the redeemer is so far universal, that upon his account
the indulgent providence of God invited the heathens to repent-
ance. His renewed benefits that sweetened their lives, Rom. 2.
400
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
4. and his powerful patience in forbearing so long to cut them
off, when their impurities and impieties were so provoking, was
- a testimony of his inclination to clemency upon their reforma-
tion, Acts 14. 17. And for their abusing his favors, and resisting
the methods of his goodness, they will be inexcusable to them-
selves, and their condemnation righteous to their own conscience.
CHAPTER III.
Eternal Death is wisely and justly ordained to be the punishment of sin. It
is the wisdom of the Lawgiver to appoint such a punishment as might
overpoise all temptations to break the law. It is just to make a proportion
between the quality of the offence, and the degrees of punishment. Sin is
a contempt of God's Majesty that is truly infinite. The obligations of rea-
sonable creatures to the Creator, extremely increase the guilt of Sin. The
meanness of the motives that induce men to sin, aggravates the offence.
The despising of eternal life, and the choosing the pleasures of sin, with hell
in its retinue, makes the punishment to be justly inflicted on them. The
obstinate and incurable lusts of men, justly make them the Objects of re-
venging justice forever.
We are next to consider the sanction of the law that enforces
obedience; and it will appear that God is not extreme, but wise-
ly and justly ordained eternal death to be the punishment of
sin.
This will appear by considering,
[1] The end of the sanction is to preserve the authority of
the law in its full vigor, to render it most solemn and awful; and
consequently it is the wisdom of the lawgiver to ordain a pun-
ishment so heavy, as to overpoise all temptations that might oth-
erwise induce the subjects to transgress its precepts.
Therefore to Adam, the first and second death was threatened
upon his disobedience; and fear, as a sentinel, was planted in
his breast, that no guilty thought, no irregular desire, no deceit-
ful suggestion should enter to break the tables of the law depos-
ited therein. Now since, notwithstanding the threatening, man
was so easily seduced by the insinuations of the tempter to break
the law, and disorder the government of God in the world, it is
evident that such a restraint was not over-vigorous to secure his
obedience. I shall not insist on what is sadly visible since the
first apostacy, that there is in mankind such a prodigious propen-
sity to sensual things, that without the fear of hell, no arguments
are strong enough to prevent the bold violation of the divine law.
[2.] It is consented to by common reason, that there ought to
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
401
be a proportion between the quality of the offence, and the de-
grees of the punishment. Justice takes the scales into its hand
before it takes the sword. Now sin against God is of such an
immense guilt, that an eternal punishment is but equivalent to it.
This will appear by considering,
(1.) The perfections of the lawgiver who is infinitely above us.
One act of sin is rebellion against God, and includes in it the
contempt of his majesty, before whom the highest angels cover
their faces with reverence and adoration, as unworthy to behold
his glory; and cover their feet, as unworthy that he should be-
hold them, Isa. 6. 2, 3. the contradiction of his holiness that is
his peculiar glory; the denial of his omniscience and omnipres-
ence, as if he were confined to the superior world, Job. 22. 14.
and busy in regulating the harmonious order of the stars, and did
not discern and observe what is done below; the defiance of his
eternal power "provoking him to jealousy, as if we were strong-
er than he."
(2.) If we consider the obligations of the reasonable creatures
to obey his commands, the guilt of sin rises prodigiously. They
were made by his power, with his special character of excellen-
cy, according to his image: they were happy in his love: they
were endowed with intellectual faculties capable to understand
and consider their obligations to their bountiful Lord. From
hence it appears that sin is the most unnatural rebellion against
God, and in it there is a concurrence of impiety, ingratitude,
perfidiousness, and whatever may inhance a crime to an excess
of wickedness.
(3.) The meanness of the motives that induce men to prefer
the pleasing their depraved appetites before obedience to his sa-
cred will, extremely aggravates the offence. Of this we have a
convincing instance of the first sin committed upon earth. De-
ceitful curiosity, flattering pride, a secret pleasure of acting
according to his will, joined with the low attractives of sense,
blinded and transported Adam to eat the mortal fruit, against the
express command of God. And ever since, the vanishing shad-
ows of honor, or gain, or pleasure, are the only persuasives to
sin, and what can be more provoking, than for a trifle to trans-
gress the law of God, and equally despise his favor and displeas-
ure? Can any punishment less than eternal, expiate such impie-
ties? The rules of human justice may discover to us the equity
of the divine justice. It is ordained by the wisest states, that
many crimes which may be done in a few minutes, shall be pun-
ished with death, and the offender be depraved of his natural
life forever. And is it not most just that treason against the
great and immortal king, should be revenged with everlasting
death?
*
Adsit Regula peccatis, quæ pœnas irroget æquas. Horat.
VOL. I.
51
402
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
(4.) That which further clears the divine justice in punishing
sin with hell, is this, that God by his infallible promise assures
us, that all who sincerely and uniformly obey him, shall be re-
warded with heaven forever: a blessedness most worthy the
greatness and love of the eternal God to bestow on his servants:
a blessedness that surpasses our most comprehensive thoughts.
Now if everlasting glory be despised, what remains but endless
misery to be the sinners portion? The consequence is remedi-
less. If sin with an eternal hell in its retinue be chosen and
embraced, is it not equal that the rational creature would inherit
his own choice? How just is it that those who are the slaves of
the devil, and maintain his party here, should have their recom-
pense with him forever? That those who now (6 say to the Al-
mighty, depart from us, we desirenot the knowledge of thy ways,"
should hear the dreadful "depart from me into everlasting fire?"
As there will be no vain boasting in heaven, where the reward
is the gift of pure bounty; so there will be no righteous com-
plaint against God in hell, where the punishment is inflicted by
powerful justice. He that voluntarily sins, by consequence
chooses the punishment due to it.
(5.) The estimation of an offence is taken from the disposi-
tion of him that does it. When it is done with pleasure and ob-
stinacy, there is no place for favor. Now final impenitence alone
makes sin actually ande ternally damning to the sinner. Those
that, notwithstanding all gracious means, live continually in re-
bellion against God; those that impenitently die in their sins;
those that desire to live here forever, that they might enjoy their
sweet sins; those that are so hardened and naturalized in their
vices, that if they were revived and brought again into this
world of temptations, would certainly return to the pleasures of
sin; is it not righteous that their incorrigible obstinacy should
be* punished forever? Is it not just that those who would con-
tinue under the "dominion of sin," should forfeit all their claim
to the divine mercy? For if we consider them as unrepentant
and irreclaimable from their wickedness, there are in them the
just provocations and true causes of God's final rejection and ha-
tred and if we consider God as revealed in his word and works,
his essential properties, wisdom, purity, justice, necessary work
upon such objects in such a manner. How zealous an indigna-
tion did the Son of God express against the obdurate Pharisees?
You serpents, you generation of vipers, how should you escape
the damnation of hell? Mat. 23 33. They in despite of all his
miracles, the equal expressions of his goodness and power, re-
sisted his authority, blasphemed his person, and slighted his sal-
vation. Now though other sins are of an inferior nature, and
*Pœnæ æqualitas non nude spectanda ut in ponderibus et mensuris, sed
expenso proposito, et voto ejus qui deliquit. Grot.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
403
weaker evidence, yet obstinacy added to them, makes a person
unworthy and uncapable of mercy. From hence the misery of
the damned is without redemption, without hope, without allay
forever.
CHAPTER IV.
The evidence of facts produced as the reason of judgment. All sins, wheth-
er secrets or openly visible, shall be brought to judgment. Sins of omission
and commission. All the aggravations and circumstances of sin. The man-
ner of this judicial proceeding is by opening the books. The books of the
law and gospel shall be unfolded in all their precepts, and men's lives com-
pared with them. The omniscience of God will give convincing evidence of
men's works. The book of conscience shall be opened, and accuse or excuse
men. Satan will be a principal accuser. The wicked will accuse one an-
other. The saints of God will give testimony against the wicked. The
impartiality of the sentence will make the Divine justice conspicuous.
There will be no distinction of persons in that judgment. There will be
a distinction of causes. Every man shall be judged according to the tenor
of his good works, and the desert of his bad. The harvest shall be an-
swerable to the sowing of the seed, both in kind and measure.
II. I shall now proceed to consider the evidence of the facts
that is produced as the reason of that judgment.
The temper of divine justice is very observable in the particu-
lar judgments recorded in scripture. In the first process of jus-
tice on earth, we read that God made the enquiry of Adam, Hast
thou eaten of the tree whereof I commanded thee that thou
shouldest not eat? Gen. 3. 11. and by palpable evidence convinc-
ed him before he condemned him. Thus before the fiery venge-
ance upon the wicked cities, the memory of which will never
be extinguished, the Lord said to Abraham, because the cry of
Sodom and Gomorroh is great, and their sin is grievous, I will
go down now, and see whether they have done according to the
cry of it that is come up unto me, Gen. 18. 20. 21. viz. whether
they were so numerously and excessively wicked; if not, I will
know. God is pleased to incarnate himself in man's expression,
to declare more sensibly to us, that he never punishes with pre-
cipitation, but after an equal trial of the cause. Thus we read
of that profane king of Babylon, Belshazzar, that he was weigh-
ed in the balance, and found wanting, Dan. 5. 27. before he was
sentenced to be deprived of his kingdom and life. And the
destruction of the antichristian state, is attended with solemn
hallelujahs for the righteousness of that judgment, Rev. 19. 2.
3. And in the last day the righteousness of God's proceedings
404
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
shall be universally manifest and magnified. It is therefore call-
ed the day of the revelation of the righteous judgment of God,
Rom. 2. 5. Now in order to this, the scripture informs us, that
all the works of men shall be brought into judgment, even every
secret thing, whether good or evil, Eccles. 12. ult. And the
Apostle saith, That we must all appear before the judgment seat
of Christ, that every one may receive the things done in his
body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad,
2 Cor. 5. 10.
All sins, whether secret, or open and visible, shall be account-
ed for. Those sins that have been acted in the most secret re-
tirement, so that no eye of man could take cognizance of them;
sins concealed from the eye of day, the light of the sun, and
from the eye of the night, the light of a candle, shall then be
made manifest. Nay, the sins of the thoughts and affections, of
which Satan could not accuse men, when the inward fire of lust
or malice is not discovered by the least smoke or sparkles, by
no expressions, all those shall be brought to judgment: God will
judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ, Rom. 2. 16.
The sins of omission of our duty that are so numerous, from
carelessness and diversions, from slothfulness and delays, and
that now so little affect us; for we are more sensible of what
we do, than of what we have not done; the guilt of all these
shall then be heavily charged on the conscience of the sinner. “I
was an hungry, and you gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and
you gave me no drink ;" was the accusation of the reprobates
from the judge himself. To him who knoweth to do good, and
doeth it not, to him it is a sin; Jam. 4. The neglect of improv-
ing all the means, advantages, and opportunities of doing or re-
ceiving good, will be a great part of that judgment. The lord
called his servants to an account for the talents committed to their
trust, and required profit in proportion to their number and worth.
All sins of commission in youth and age, whether gross sensu-
ality, as lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine, revellings, banquet-
ings, and abominable idolatries, and all excess of riot, shall be
accounted for to him who is ready to judge the quick and the
dead, 1 Pet. 4. 5. Or acts of unrighteousness to others: He
that doth wrong, shall receive according to the wrong he has
done, Col. 3. 25. And sins of a lesser guilt, for which the most
are not touched with grief or shame, shall then be produced in
judgment. All the sins of our words, so easily committed, and
not so easily observed, shall then be called to a heavy remem-
brance: the judge himself tells us, I say unto you, that every
idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof
in the day of judgment; Mat. 12. And if vain words, the signs
and immediate effects of a vain mind, shall sadly increase our
accounts; how much more all the contentious, fierce, and re-
vengeful words; the detracting, false, contumelious, and injuri-
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
405
ous words; the impure, filthy, and contagious words; the profane,
blasphemous, and impious words, that "flow from the evil treas-
ure of the heart?" O their dreadful number, and oppressing
weight!
And all the aggravations and circumstances of men's sins, that
raise their guilt to such fearful heights, enumerated in order to
judgment for thus it was foretold, Behold, the Lord comes with
ten thousand of his saints, to execute judgment upon all, and to con-
vince all that are ungodly among them, of all their ungodly deeds
which they have ungodly committed, and all their hard speech-
es which ungodly sinners have spoken against him; Jude 14. 15.
And all the good works of the saints shall then be remembered,
even to the least work of piety, the giving of two mites to the
treasury of the temple, Luke 21. 3. 4. and the least works of
charity, the giving a cup of cold water to a disciple, Mat. 10. 42.
upon the account of his relation to Christ. All their secret gra-
ces and duties shall then be rewarded.
The manner of this judicial evidence is set forth to us in scrip-
ture, by the "opening the books;" congruously to proceedings
in human judgment, wherein the information and charge is pro-
duced from writings, for the conviction of the accused. Thus it
was represented to St. John in a vision; I saw the dead, small and
great, stand before God; and the books were opened, and the
dead were judged out of the things that were writen in the books,
according to their works, Rev. 20. 12.
[1.] The books of the law and gospel shall then be opened
in all the injunctions and prohibitions, and our lives compared
with them. Our Saviour told the Jews, Do not think that I will
accuse you to my Father; there is one that accuseth you, even
Moses, in whom you trust: not the person, but the law of Mo-
ses; John 5. 45. And he denounced against those that reject
the gospel; The word that I have spoken, the same shall judge
them in the last day, John 12. 48. The law is the exact transcript
of God's sacred will, the natural and immutable rule of righteous-
ness: it is pure, forbids all sin, and enjoins universal holiness; it is
spiritual, requires not only a conformity in words and actions,
but inward sanctity in mind and heart: for the soul is the prin-
cipal part of man, entirely open to God's eye, the maker and
judge of it; and the most enlightened saints have but an imper-
fect knowledge of it here. This made holy David, after his
meditation upon its purity and perfection, to cry out in an agony,
Who can understand his errors! cleanse thou me from secret sins;
Psal. 19. This, when opened in its spiritual and comprehen-
sive nature, by a wise and zealous preacher, darts a light into
the conscience, and discovers many secret sins, that like so ma-
ny serpents were still and quiet in the dark; but upon the sud-
den breaking in of the light, fly upon the sinner, and torment
him with their mortal stings. But when the Lawgiver himself
406
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
shall expound the law in its full extent and perfection, with re-
spect to all the duties it commands, and sins it forbids, how guilty
will men appear? how unable to answer one article of a thou-
sand charged upon them?
[2.] The omniscience of God will give most convincing evi-
dence of all his works: All things are naked and open to his
eyes, with whom we have to do in judgment, Heb. 4. 13. The
Psalmist declares the infinite perspicacity of his sight; The dark-
ness hides not from thee, but the night shines as the day; Psal.
139. As his light and transcendent brightness is invisible to us,
1. Tim. 6. 16. so our thickest darkness is visible to him. We
cannot see things in the night, because it hinders the reception
of the rays, that insinuate into the eyes, and causes sight; but
the eyes of our judge are like a flame of fire, Rev. 1. 14. dis-
pelling all darkness. From his throne in heaven, his piercing
eye sees through all the concealments of men's sins. Thou
hast set our iniquities before thee, and our secret sins in the
light of thy countenance, Psal. 90. 8. He discovered the sacri-
lege of Achan, the lie of Gehazi, the deceit of Ananias. Saul's
disobedience in sparing the Amalekites devoted to destruction,
1 Sam. 15. 21. had the colorable pretence of piety, and, as a
sacrifice, was laid on the altar. And David's murder of Uriah
was imputed to the chance of war, as a sufficient excuse, 2 Sam.
11. 25. But though they might have deceived others, they
could not deceive God: he is intimately present with the souls
of men, that are unsearchable to the most discerning angels of
light, and knows all their most secret designs and desires, the
deepest seeds of their actions. He alone has exact scales to
"weigh the spirits of men," all the principles, aims and affec-
tions, that are inseparable from their works. The Pharisees, in
whom pride was the first property, and hypocrisy a second na-
ture, could not with all their saintly shews impose on our Sa-
viour; for he knew what was in man, Matth. 23. 14. He dis-
covered their alms to be, not the effect of charity, but ostenta-
tion, Matth. 6. 2. and their specious acts of devotion, to be a
train to surprise some rich prey, Matth. 23. 14.
And this divine knowledge of men and their actions, is in or-
der to judgment. Thus the wise king declares, doth not he
that ponders the heart consider it? and he that keepeth thy
soul, doth not he know it? and shall not he render to every man
according to his works? Prov. 24. 12. And God himself testi-
fies, I the Lord search the heart, even to give to every man ac-
cording to his works, Jer. 17. 10. For this reason, he is said
to keep a register of mens sins. Thus he speaks of the impure
idolatries of the Jews; Behold, it is written before me, Isa. 65
6. to signify his exact and actual knowledge; "I will not keep
silence, but will recompense, even recompense into their bosoms.
And at the day of judgment, he will declare his knowledge of
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
407
their sins before all; and the most secret shall be made evident,
as if written in their foreheads in the most plain and legible char-
acters.
And all the goodness of the saints shall then be revealed by
the judge. Their * greatest excellencies are invisible to the eyes
of men; the sanctity of their aims and affections which gives
life and value to all the acts of obedience; their secret duties,
wherein the sincerity and ardeney of their souls is most express-
ed, are only known to God. And such is the excellent humility
of the saints, that the more they are enriched, and abound with
the gracious influences of the spirit, the less they discover to
the world; as the celestial bodies, when in nearest conjunction
with the sun, and most filled with his light, are least in appear-
ance to the inhabitants of the earth. But there is a book of re-
membrance before him, for them that feared the Lord, and
thought upon his name. And they shall be mine, saith the Lord
of hosts, in the day when I make up my jewels; and I will spare
them as a man spares his son that serves him; Mal. 3. 16. 17.
[3.] The conscience of every man shall then be opened,
and give an accusing or excusing testimony of all things; Rom.
2. 15. 16. For these acts of conscience, in the present life,
have a final respect to God's tribunal: and though the accounts
are so vast, there shall be an exact agreement between the
books of God's omniscience and of conscience in the day of judg-
ment. Now indeed the conscience of man, though never so in-
quisitive and diligent in examining and revising his ways, is un-
able to take a just account of his sins. As one that would tell
the first-appearing stars in the evening, before he can reckon
them, others appear, and confound his memory with their num-
ber; so when conscience is seriously intent in reflecting upon
itself, before it can reckon up the sins committed against one
command, innumerable others appear. This made the Psalmist,
upon the survey of his actions, break forth in amazement and per-
plexity; Mine iniquities are more than the hairs upon my head,
therefore my heart fails me
heart fails me; Psal. 40. 12.
Psal. 40. 12. But it will be one of
the miracles of that day, to enlarge the view of conscience to all
their sins. Now the records of conscience are often obliterated,
and the sins written therein are forgotten; but then they shall
appear in so clear an impression, that the wicked shall be inex-
cusable to themselves, and conscience subscribes their condem-
nation. And O the formidable spectacle, when conscience, en-
lightened by a beam from heaven, shall present to a sinner in
one view the sins of his whole life! Now conscience is a notary
in every man's bosom; and though it is not always vocal, yet
* O si nobis animam boni viri liceret inspicere, quam pulchram faciem,
quam sanctam, quam ex magnifico, placidoque fulgentem videremus?
Senec.
408
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
writes down their actions: The sin of Judah is written with a
pen of iron, and with a point of a diamond it is graven upon the
tables of the heart, Jer. 17. 1. But then it shall be compelled to
give a full charge against the guilty of this we have an infallible
presage in this world, when conscience turns the point against
the breast of a sinner, and enforces the tongue, by a secret insti-
gation, to accuse the person. And this information of conscience
at the last will make the sinner speechless: for the book of ac-
counts with Divine justice, was always in his own keeping; and
whatever is recorded there, was written with his own hand.
And how will those hardened sinners, that now kick against the
pricks of conscience, be able to repel its strong and quick accu-
sations before that terrible tribunal?
[4.] Other numerous witnesses will appear to finish the pro-
cess of that day. Not as if God that knows all things, wants in-
formation, but for the public conviction of the wicked.
Satan will then bring in a bloody charge against them. Such
is his malignity, that he is a complainer of God to man, and by
calumniating the blessed Creator, seduced our first parents; and
he is the accuser of men to God. He is styled the accuser of
the brethren before God day and night, Rev. Sometimes falsely,
as when he taxed Job, that his piety was mercenary; and often
truly, to provoke the divine displeasure. But though his charge
be just against them as sinners, yet as penitent sinners they are
absolved by the judge upon the throne of grace. This we have
represented to the prophet Zechary, Joshua the high priest, a
type of the church, standing before the angel of the Lord, and
Satan standing at his right hand to accuse him, Zech. 3. 1, 2, 3.
for that was the place of accusers. But Christ, the blessed Re-
conciler, interposed: "and the Lord said to Satan, The Lord
rebuke thee, O Satan, even the Lord that hath chosen Jerusa-
lem, rebuke thee." But he will principally act the part of an
accuser at the last judgment. This is intimated in that fearful
imprecation, Let Satan stand at his right hand when he is judg-
ed, let him be condemned, Psal. 109. 6, 7. He is now an active
watchful spirit, whose diligence is equal to his malice, and by
glittering snares, or violent temptations, draws men to sin.
then he will be their most bitter accuser, not from zeal of justice,
but pure malignity. Then he will aggravate their crimes by the
most killing circumstances; though in accusing them he indicts
himself, their sins being usually done by his solicitations.
But
And the wicked themselves will accuse one another. In this
world fellow-sinners usually conceal one another's wickedness,
But then all that have
restrained by their own obnoxiousness.
been jointly engaged in the commission of sin, will impeach each
other. The voluptuous sinners that have excited one another to
lust or luxury; Come, let us take our fill of love till the morning,
Prov. 7. 18. Come, I will fetch wine, and we will fill ourselves
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
409
with strong drink; for to-morrow shall be as to day, and much
more abundant, Isa. 56. 12. All the charming companions and
associates will with fierceness charge one another. And the ma-
licious cruel sinners that say, Come, let us lay wait for blood, let
us swallow them up quick as the grave, Prov. 1. will then, like
enraged furies, fly upon one another. In all sins of combination,
the inferior instruments will accuse their directors for their per-
nicious counsel, and the directors will accuse the instruments for
their wicked compliance.
And all the holy servants of God, who by their instructions,
counsels, admonitions, examples, have endeavored to make the
world better; especially those who by their place and relation
were more concerned, and more zealously and compassionately
urged and persuaded those under their care to reform their lives,
and save their souls, will give a heavy testimony against them.
Indeed the very presence of the saints will upbraid the wicked,
for their resisting all the warming, melting intreaties, all the grave
and serious reproofs, all the tender earnest expostulations, that
were ineffectual by the hardness of their hearts.
Briefly, the scripture attributes to the signs and circumstances
of men's sins, a vocal evidence against them. Thus the prophet
speaking of the house built by rapine and extortion, The stones
of the wall cry, and the beams answer them, Hab. 2. 11. and
with concurrent testimony accuse the unrighteous builder. And
St. James declares, That the wages of the hireling, kept back by
fraud, cry against the oppressor. And the rust of gold and sil-
ver treasured up, is a witness against the covetous, Jam. 5. 3, 4.
And this by the recognition of conscience will be a memorial
against them hereafter.
To what the scripture speaks of this kind of evidence of men's
sins, I shall add a useful representation framed by a heathen to
signify that wickedness, how secretly soever committed, shall be
brought to light in judgment. He tells us, "That the soul of
a very guilty wretch was, after death, arraigned before one of
the severe judges below. And at his trial, because his atrocious
crimes were done in secret, he stood upon his defence, denying
all. The judge commanding his lamp to be produced, that was
an eye-witness of his wickedness, the lamp appeared, and being
demanded what it knew of him? answered with a sigh, would I
had been conscious of nothing, for even now the remembrance
of his villanies makes me to tremble: I wish my light had been
extinguished, that the oil that maintained it had quenched it.
But I burnt with disdain, and cast about some sparks to fire his
impure bed; and was grieved that my little flame was so weak
as not to consume it. I said within myself, if the sun saw these
villanies, it would be eclipsed, and leave the world in darkness.
But I now perceive why I was constrained to give light to him,
that being a secret spy of his uncleanness, his thefts and cruel-
VOL. I.
52
410
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
ties, I might reveal them." But we that are enlightened by
faith, and know that God is omnipresent, and that whatever sin
is done, though in the deepest and darkest recess, is manifest to
him,* have no need of Lucian's lamp to make our judge to be
feared by us.
[5.] The impartiality of the sentence will make the justice of
God conspicuous before the whole world. This consists in two
things.
1. There will be no distinction of persons.
2. There will be a distinction of causes in that judgment; and
according to their nature, the sentence will pass upon all.
(1.) There will be no distinction of persons. In human courts
the judges sometimes extend and amplify, sometimes contract or
smother the evidence, and are more rigorous or favorable in their
sentence, as they are biased towards the persons before them.
But the righteous judge of the world is uncapable of being in-
clined to favor or severity upon such base motives. This is fre-
quently declared in scripture, to possess us with his fear. If ye
call upon the Father, who without respect of persons judges ac-
cording to every man's work, pass the time of your sojourning
here in fear, 1 Pet. 1. 17. No spiritual privileges upon which
men are so apt to presume, viz. that they are members of the
reformed church, that they are enriched with excellent gifts, that
they enjoy the ordinances in their purest administration, will
avail them without real holiness in their hearts and lives. The
being united to societies of the most glorious profession, of strict-
est purity, and sublime devotion, does no more prove one to be
a real saint, than the being of an eminent company of merchants
proves one to be a rich citizen. Those that bow the knee and
not the heart in faithful reverence, that give the empty title of
Lord to Christ, without the tribute of obedience, will be reject-
ed by him. Many shall say at the day of judgment, Lord, Lord,
we have prophesied in thy name, and done many wondrous
works, Matth. 7. 22. Then will the judge say, I know you not;
depart from me ye workers of iniquity. No degrees of civil
greatness will be of any moment and advantage in that day.
St. John testifies, "I saw the dead, small and great stand before
God," in an equal line, to receive their trial. Kings shall then
be divested of their imperial titles, of their crowns and sceptres,
and their robes of state, and only be accompanied with their
works. Of this we have an undoubted proof, in that they are
no more exempted from the common law of dying than the
meanest slave. Death, that rugged officer, arrests them without
ceremony, and summons them to appear before that tribunal.
* Ipse timendus est in publico, ipse in secreto. Lucerna ardet? videt te
Lucerna extincta est? videt te. In cubile intras? videt te. In corde versaris?
videt te. Ipsum time.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
411
The royal purple could not protect Herod from being devoured
by worms. The Apostle speaks indefinitely in the fore-cited
place; he that does wrong, shall receive for the wrong he has
done; and there is no respect of persons, Col. 3. ult.
No cir-
cumstantial accidents can derive pure worth, or truly debase
persons, but inherent qualities, and the actions that flow from
them and accordingly, the high and holy God will accept or
disapprove them. What St. Paul observes of the saving grace
of the gospel being indifferently offered to all, is applicable in
this case.
He tells us, There is neither Greek nor Jew, Bar-
barian nor Scythian, bond nor free, Col. 3. 11. that are preferred
or excluded upon a carnal account, but all may equally partake
of spiritual blessings. Thus the difference of nations will be
no privilege or prejudice to any in the day of judgment. The
most rude and contemptible shall have as fair and equal a trial,
as the most polite and civilized: the ignorant Barbarians as the
learned Grecians, that so much boasted of their vain excellen-
cies above them: the Negroes in Africa as the people of Eu-
rope; for they have the same relation to God their maker, and
as truly bear the impression of God stamped upon the human
nature in the creation, and therefore common to the whole spe-
cies of mankind. An image may be fashioned in ebony as well
as in ivory. Briefly, all men are equally subject to his laws,
and shall be equally accountable for their actions. "The rich
and the poor shall then meet together, without distinction, before
God the maker and judge of them all."
(2.) There shall be a distinction of causes, and every man be
judged "according to his works," the tenor of good works, and
the desert of bad. The Apostle assures us, That whatsoever a
man sows, that shall he reap: he that soweth to the flesh, shall
of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the spirit,
shall of the spirit reap life everlasting, Gal. 6. 7. 8. The har-
vest shall be according to the seed both in kind and measure.
It
1. Those who by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for
glory, and honor, and immortality, shall obtain eternal life, Rom.
2.7. Indeed, eternal life is the gift of infinite bounty, Rom. 6.
ult. nay of pure mercy, Jude 21. and mercy excludes merit.
is said of the blessed martyrs, who contended for the truth and
purity of the gospel to the death, that their robes were washed
white in the blood of the Lamb, Rev. 7. 14. not in their own
blood. Their right to heaven was from the application of his
merits to them. But the reward is dispensed from God accord-
ing to the evangelical law; not only as a magnificent prince, but
as a righteous judge. All those to whom the gospel promises
eternal life, shall infallibly obtain it, and none that the gospel
excludes. Those who are sensible of their sins, and cor-
dially forsaking them, did humbly and entirely depend upon the
grace of God, through the blessed Reconciler and Saviour, shall
412
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
be justified and glorified. Then the judge will discern between
unfeigned faith and vain presumption, and will justify the faith
of the saints by the genuine fruits of it, "the godliness, right-
eousness, and sobriety of their lives," and a victorious perse-
verance in their duty, notwithstanding all the pleasing tempta-
tions or tortures to withdraw them from it. Thus the Apostle
expresses his humble confidence; I have fought the good fight,
I have finished my course; henceforth there is laid up for me
a crown of righteousness, which God the righteous judge will
give me at that day, and not only to me, but to all that love his
appearance, 2 Tim. 4. 5. 8. We read in the description of the
last judgment, that the book of life was opened: the names of
all that were written in heaven, Rev. 20. 12. shall then be de-
clared, that it may appear they are saved by grace. For it was
his most free pleasure to select some from the common mass of
perdition, who were naturally as guilty and corrupted as others,
and to predestinate them to eternal glory, and effectual perse-
vering grace to prepare them for it. "The saints are created
in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordain-
ed, that they should walk in them." And the new creation is
as undeserved and entire an effect of God's love as the first was.
But it is said, "That every man was judged according to his
works." For eternal election does not entitle a person imme-
diately to heaven, but according to the order established in the
gospel. Thus the king at the last day speaks to the elect; Come,
ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you.
before the foundation of the world: for I was hungry, and ye
fed me; naked, and ye clothed me, Mat. 25. 34. 35.
And according as the saints have excelled in fidelity and zeal
in God's service, they shall be rewarded with a more excellent
glory. The stars of the supreme heaven are of a diffent bright-
ness and greatness, as the stars of the visible firmament. In-
deed all are perfectly happy, without *jealousy that any is equal
or superior to them in that kingdom. But God will crown his
own graces as the saints have improved them. Our Saviour
valued the widow's two mites, as transcending all the magnifi-
cent gifts of others, because of the degrees of love in the giver.
There was a richer mine of affection in her heart, gold of a more
noble vein, more pure and precious than all their riches. This
was of greater price in God's account, who weighs the spirits in
his balance. God will accept and reward according to what a
man has, and not according to what he has not, 2 Cor. 8. 12.
He that improves but two talents, with his best skill and dili-
gence, shall have a greater reward than another that had ten
talents, and was remiss and less careful to employ them for his
master's profit. The rule will be exactly observed, “he that
*Plus amant illud regnum in quo non timent habere consortes. Aug. de
civit Dei.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
413
sows bountifully, shall reap bountifully; and he that sows spa-
ringly, shall reap sparingly."
Al-
2. And if God will be thus impartial in rewarding the saints,
much more in punishing the wicked. For the remuneration of
our duty is the effect of his most free favor; but the recom-
penses of sin are due, and decreed by justice, in number, weight,
and measure. The severity of the sentence will be in propor-
tion, as men's sins have been more numerous and heinous.
though all the damned shall be equally miserable in despair, all
broken on an endless wheel, yet the degrees of their torment are
different. Sins of ignorance are extenuated in comparison of
rebellious sins against knowledge. The first are like a servant's
dashing against his master in the dark, the other like the inso-
lent striking him in the light: and as they incur great guilt, will
expose to great punishment. Accordingly our Saviour predicts,
That the servant which knew his Lord's will, and prepared not
himself, neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with
many stripes: but he that knew not, and did commit things wor-
thy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes, Luke 12. 47. 48.
Unactive knowledge is worse than ignorance. For this reason
the case of heathens will be more tolerable than of the Jews:
for though some natural principles were strong and quick in their
minds, that made them sensible of their duty and danger, yet
they were not so clear and perfect as the law delivered by Mo-
Those sins that were infirmities in a Pagan, were presump-
tuous in a Jew. And the case of the Jews will be more tolera-
ble than of disobedient christians, who enjoy the gospel less
charged with ceremonies, and more abundant in grace than the
Mosaical dispensation. Those that have set before them the
life of Christ, the model of all perfection, that are excited by
such loud calls "to flee from the wrath to come," and yet are
deaf and regardles to the commands, nay to the melting invita-
tions and precious promises of the gospel, shall have a more in-
tolerable judgment than the most guilty sinners, even the Sodom-
ites and Sidonians that were strangers to it. The precious
blood of the Son of God despised, induces a crimson guilt. And
as sins are committed with pride and pleasure, with eager appetite
and obstinacy, the revenge of justice will be more heavy upon
ses.
persons.
More particularly, sins of consequence, whereby others are
drawn to sin, will heighten the guilt, and the retribution of jus-
tice will be to every man according to his ways, and according
to the fruit of his doings, Jer. 17. 10.
This will principally concern superiors in eminency of place,
whose dignity was always a concomitant proportion of duty.
Their vicious actions are examples, and their examples more pow-
erful rules than their laws, and give countenance to others to
sin licentiously. They "sin with a high hand," and involve the
414
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
ruin of innumerable persons that depend upon them: as the
Dragon in Revelation, whose fall from heaven drew a train of
lesser stars with him. And all inferior magistrates, who by per-
sonal commission, or partial connivance, encourage and harden
others in sin, and by their power discountenance serious religion,
and obstruct the progress of it, heap up damnation to them-
selves.
And the ministers of the word, who are obliged to watch for
the souls of men; and should, like the heavens, by their light,
influence and motion, their doctrine and lives, guide and quick-
en others in the ways of holiness; if by their neglect and wick-
edness others are lost forever, their account will be most heavy
and undoing.
Of this number are those, who by their unholy conversation.
weaken the authority and efficacy of the Word, and more suc-
cessfully persuade men to do evil, than by their preaching to do
well for we are apt to take deeper impression through the eye,
than through the ear, to follow the physician's practice rather
than his counsel. These perish not alone in their iniquity. And
such who are unfaithful dispensers of the treasures of their Lord,
and by loose doctrines corrupt the minds of men, to fancy a mer-
cy in God derogatory to his holiness, that although they live in-
dulgently in sin, they may obtain an easy pardon and happiness
at last and such who employ their high commission for low and
base ends those who instead of "preaching Jesus Christ, and
him crucified," the pure and saving truths derived from the
fountain of the gospel, entertain their hearers with flashy con-
ceits, and studied vanities, to give a relish to curiosity, and to
have the applause of fools, and obscure the native majesty of
the Word, enervate its force, and render it powerless to con-
science.
:
And those who spend their zeal in things of no moment to
salvation, and let fly bitter invectives against those that dissent
from them in unconcerning matters, by which they harden athe-
istical scorners in villifying the office of the ministry as a car-
nal invention, set up and used for secular ends; and induce oth-
ers to place religion in formalities, and slight colors of it, as if
conformity to needless rites, would exclude the defects of sub-
stantial holiness.
It is observed in the Chaldee paraphrase, when God was en-
quiring of Cain concerning Abel, that he charges him, "The
voice of thy brother's blood cries unto me" as if Cain were a
murderer, not of a single man only, but of a numerous race that
might have descended from his brother. Thus a wicked minis-
ter will be charged, not only for murdering himself, but as many
precious souls as might have been converted and saved, if he
had faithfully performed his duty.
And parents that should instil the principles of godliness into
1
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
415
their children in their early age, and season their minds with the
knowledge of the Divine laws, to regulate their lives, and make
them sensible of their obligations to obey them; that should re-
commend religion to their affections by an holy and heavenly
conversation, if by the neglect of their duty their children are
exposed as a prey to the tempter, and ruined forever, it will en-
hance their last reckoning, and increase the score of their
guilt beyond expression.
And masters of families, and all others that have authority and
advantage to preserve or reform from evil those that are com-
mitted to their care, and to instruct and command them to do
what is pleasing to God, and profitable to their souls, will be sad-
ly accountable for those that perish by their neglect.
In short, we see by common experience, that company and
mutual consent is a usual motive to sin; and many persons that
alone would with abhorrence reject some temptations, yet are
sociably sinful. Now all those who by excitation or example
lead others to destruction, as they are first in sin will be chief in
punishment. We read in the parable of the rich voluptuary,
Luke 16. 28. that being in hell, he desired a messenger might
be dispatched from the dead to warn his brethren, lest they
should come to that place of torment. Is there such charity in
hell to the souls of others? No, that furnace always burns with
its proper flames, there is not a spark of that divine fire there:
but remembering how guilty he had been of their sins, feared
that his torments would be increased by their coming thither.
Society in endless sorrow does not divide, but reflect them.
*
Now if damnation for sin be such a misery as is expressed in
the scripture by the most violent figures, and words of the hea-
viest signification; if all the possible tortures suffered here, are
but a lenitive to the preparations of wrath in hell; how misera-
ble shall those be, who, as if a single damnation were a light mat-
ter, do not only commit sin in their own persons, but are in com-
bination with Satan to corrupt and destroy others, and multiply
damnation against themselves? These treasure up wrath
against the day of wrath."
Briefly; The whole process of that day, the arraignment and
sentence will be so ordered, the righteousness and reasonable-
ness of the proceedings will be so manifest, as to clear the judge,
and confound the guilty. "God will be justified in his sentence,
and overcome when he judgeth.”
* Non orat pro fratrum salute quâ non tangitur reprobus, sed pro se ne
ipsius tormenta ex consortio fratrum augeantur. Brugen.
*
416
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT,
CHAPTER V.
An excitation to confirm our faith of the eternal judgment. Reason sees the
necessity of a future judgment. Divine revelation expressly declares it.
Considerations requisite to make faith effectual. The belief of a future
judgment clears the honor of God's governing the world, from the impu-
tation of unrighteousness, with respect to the prosperity of the wicked, and
the sufferings of the saints. It is a powerful support to the saints in their
persecutions. The belief of this is effectual to restrain from secret sins. It
is a powerful remedy against the pernicious pleasures of sin. The consid-
eration that the Son of God clothed with our nature shall judge the world,
affords great consolation to his people, and is a motive of great terror to the
wicked.
I shall now come to apply this great doctrine.
[1.] Let us from what has been discoursed of judgment to
come, be excited to confirm our faith in this great and useful
doctrine; and by serious and frequent thoughts to apply it to our-
selves. Some within the church have only a superficial belief
of this, as a point of the religion wherein they were educated,
but carnal affections, fear, hope, love, and desire, control their
assent as to its operation upon them. They believe in the gen-
eral, that God is the judge and rewarder of our actions, and in
the absence of temptation resolve to obey him: but when a
strong trial comes from some temporal good or evil that is pre-
sent, their faith is negligent and unactive to keep them from sin.
Now to make our faith powerful, we must,
1. Confirm it by convincing arguments, that it may be an un-
doubted assurance, a certain light, directive and persuasive in
the course of our lives. Some doctrines of religion that are of
an incomprehensible nature, and should be received with silent
adoration for the authority of the revealer, are obstinately con-
tradicted by some, upon a vain pretence that nothing is to be be-
lieved, that will not endure the rigorous inquisition of reason,
and be comprehended by our narrow minds: but reason, though
darkened, sees the necessity of a future judgment. Nature and
scripture testify there is a God, and that he has a right, and pow-
er, and will to distribute the rewards of virtue, and the penalties
of vice to his subjects. To deny this, is directly against the im-
planted notion of the Deity in the heart of man. There is a
real difference between moral good and evil, not depending upon
opinion, but arising from the the immutable nature of things,
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
417
and the eternal law of God. Otherwise considered in itself, it
were no more faulty to murder a parent, than to kill a fly; nor
to rob a traveller, than to chase a deer. But the conscience of
the most profligate wretch would startle at such an assertion.
The disposition and admirable order of the world in its various
parts, and the vicissitude of seasons, declare to the observing
mind, that a most wise, good and powerful God governs and pre-
serves all things by his vigorous influence. And can it be that
the Divine Providence, so visibly wise and good in regulating
the course of nature, should be defective towards man, the most
noble part of the world? And can it be extended to human af-
fairs, if there be no other than the present state, wherein the
righteous are afflicted, and wicked prosper? Where sins of the
deepest stain and the loudest cry are unpunished; and the sub-
lime and truly heroic virtues are unrewarded? Nay, where vice
receives the natural reward of virtue, honor and felicity; and
virtue the just wages of vice, disgrace and sufferings? It is ne-
cessary therefore that there be a future state, and a righteous
distribution of rewards, according to the good and evil of mens
actions here.
The heathens disguised this terrible truth, under the fictions
of the infernal judges, Minos, and Rhadamanthus, and acus.
And the furies and vultures, and fiery lake, which they thought
tormented the wicked in the next * world, discover what appre-
hensions they had of the desert of sin, and the punishment that
certainly attended it. The guilty would fain be freed from the
terrors of it, and strangle conscience, that is bound over to give
testimony in the day of judgment, that they may sin without
scruples. But though fear be a troublesome and involuntary
passion, they cannot totally extinguish the internal sense and
presages of future judgment: but as the motions of courage came
upon Sampson at times; so conscience awakened by sharp af-
flictions, by sudden dangers, and the approaches of death, makes
a sad deduction of past sins, and forecasts cruel things: it cites
the offender before the enlightened tribunal of heaven, scourges
with remorse, and makes him feel even here the strokes of hell.
Though the sin be secret, and the guilty person powerful, not
within the cognizance or reach of human justice, yet conscience
has a rack within, and causes pain and anxiety, by fearful ex-
pectations of judgment to come.
And Divine revelation is most express in declaring this great
truth. The light of faith is more clear and certain from the in-
fallible Word of God, than the light of reason: before the flood,
Enoch in the early age of the world foretold it: Behold the
Lord cometh with ten thousand of his saints, to execute judg-
ment upon all, Jude 14. 15. Solomon under the law repeats this
* Testimonium animæ naturaliter Christianæ. Tert.
VOL. I.
53
418
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
doctrine, that every secret thing shall be brought unto judgment,
whether good or evil, Eccl. 12. And God himself speaks in the
sublimest style of majesty, and swears by himself, for our firmer
belief, As I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall bow to me,
and every tongue confess to God, Isa. 45. 2. 3. the glory of his
justice. From whence the Apostle infers, So then every one of
us shall give an account to God for himself, Rom. 14. 10. 11.
In the gospel we have distinctly described the person of the
Judge, the glorious attendants of his coming, and the manner of
his proceedings in that day, Mat. 13. 42. 43, and 24. 30. 31.
Now the many predictions in scripture, so visibly accomplish-
ed in the person of Jesus Christ, and by him, give infallible as-
surance that all his promises and threatenings are equally cer-
tain, and shall be fulfilled. As sure as our Saviour is come in
his humble state, and has accomplished the prophecies of his
sufferings, he will come in his glory to judge the world.
*
2. That the belief of eternal judgment may be powerful in our
hearts and lives, it must be actuated by frequent and serious.
thoughts. Faith gives life and efficacy to our notions of eternal
things, and consideration makes our faith effectual. As the natu-
ral life is preserved by the activity of the vital principles, the
circulation of the blood, the drawing of the breath, the motion
of the pulse; so the spiritual life is maintained by the exercise
of grace. The carnal affections dare not appear before reason
and conscience, when awakened by the serious believing consid-
eration of eternal judgment. The Evangelists relate, that when
our Saviour was asleep in the ship, a sudden tempest arose, that
was like to over-set it in the sea: but awakened by the cry of
his disciples, "Lord, save us, we perish: he presently rebuked
the wind, and a calm ensued." Thus whilst the habit of faith
is asleep in the soul, there will be great danger from the concur-
rent violence of temptations and corruptions; but when it is awa-
kened by lively and powerful thoughts, it does miracles in sub-
duing the strongest lusts. It is monstrous, and beyond all be-
lief, did not sensible experience make it evident, that notwith-
standing the minds of men are convinced of the certainty of the
Divine judgment, and the recompenses that immediately follow,
yet their wills remain unconverted, and their affections cold and
unactive in their preparations for it: that such numbers who have
o much Christianity as to believe that an irrevocable doom will
pass upon the wicked, and so little Christianity, that they can-
not justly hope to escape from it, yet are so careless of their du-
ty, nay joyful in their sinful courses, as if judgment were a dread-
less thing. What is the cause of this prodigious security? It is
the neglect of considering that "we must all appear before the
So
* An vere extribuit nobis omnia quæ promisit, et de solo die judicii nos fe-
fellit? Aug.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
419
judgment-seat of Christ, to receive according to the things done
in the body, whether good or evil. "
The next cause of this stupidity is, that they put the evil day
at a remote distance: as the scorners said, "the vision is for
many days:" they study to be secure, and delay their prepara-
tions, presuming to have time enough before them. Their sen-
ses and faculties are so employed abroad in the world, that they
have neither leisure nor desire to think seriously of it. Their
hearts are so ravished with dreams of sensuality, and engaged in
terrene affairs, that they are very averse from exercising their
minds upon such displeasing objects.
Vain men! how willingly do they deceive themselves? the
Judge himself declares, “behold, I come quickly: his throne is
like a fiery flame, and his wheels as burning fire;" an emblem
of his swift coming to judgment. Can they be assured of life one
hour? The day of death is equivalent to the Day of Judgment:
for immediately after there is a final decision of men's states for-
ever.
I have read of an excellent preacher, that in a sermon des-
cribed the last judgment in all its terrors, with such ardent ex-
pressions, and those animated with such an affecting voice, such
an inflamed countenance and action, that his hearers broke forth
into passionate cries, as if the Judge himself had been present to
pass the final sentence upon them. In the height of their com-
motion, the preacher bid them stop their tears and passions, for
he had one thing more to add, the most afflicting and astonishing
consideration of all the rest, that within less than a quarter of an
hour, the memory and regard of that which so transported them
would vanish, and their affections return to carnal objects in their
usual manner.
The neglect of consideration makes even the doctrine of judg-
ment to come to be without efficacy. It is necessary therefore
that the belief of this be so firmly seated in the heart as its throne,
that it may command the thoughts to be very attentive to it, and
may have regal power over our wills and affections, that our lives
may be ordered according to its rules.
They
[2.] The consideration of eternal judgment will vindicate the
proceedings of divine providence, and the honor of God's govern-
ing this world, from the imputation of unrighteousness. God is
provoked every day, yet spares the wicked, and heaps an abun-
dance of favors on them: his patience and goodness they pro-
fanely abuse, and become more obdurate and inflexible.
are apt to blaspheme the excellency of his nature in their hearts,
Psal. 14. 1. thinking that he is ignorant or careless, impotent or
unjust. They implicitly deny his providence and judgment, that
he does not observe their sins, and will not require an account
for them or else they interpret his permission to be an approba-
tion of their sins: These things hast thou done and I kept si-
420
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
lence; thou thoughtest I was such an one as thyself; Psal. 50.
Thus the heathens transplanted the vices of earth to heaven, and
represented their Gods to be sensual, jealous, furious as men, and
accordingly expect an easy absolution for their sins. Or else the
distance of judgment to come so hardens them, that they hear
God's thunder with less fear, than boys do their squibs and crack-
ers. Because sentence against an evil work is not speedily exe-
cuted, therefore the hearts of the sons of men are fully set in
them to do evil, Eccles. 8. 2. But how desperate is the mad-
ness of sinners? God now seems to wink at their sins, Acts 17.
30. but hath appointed a day of accounts. He suffers them to
live in prosperity, but they are reserved to the day of judgment
to be punished, 2 Pet. 2. 4. and possibly sooner; for sometimes
they are cut off by visible vengeance, to convince the world that
the supreme Judge does not bear the sword in vain. But though
it is delayed for a time, yet he declares, that their sins are laid
up in store with him, and sealed up among his treasures. To
him belongs vengeance and recompense, Deut. 32, 34. He is a
mild Judge now, and his clemency suspends their punishment;
but justice will not forget it, Amos 8. 7. He threatens the se-
cure sinner; I will reprove thee, and set thy sins in order before
thine eyes, Psal. 50. 21. How will the scornful obstinate sinner
change complexion, and tremble, when an army of sins (more ter-
rible than so many furies) shall be ranged in battle, and with
fiery darts wound his naked soul? How will the stubborn Athe-
ist, that pleases himself with vain imaginations of the eternity of
the world, and the mortality of the soul, be confounded when he
feels the truth of scripture threatnings to his eternal sorrow?
Then all their railleries will be turned into lamentations.
not for want of power that God spares the wicked, but because
they are always in his hands, and he can make them as miserable
as they are sinful, when he pleases. It is not through the neg-
lect of justice, but for most wise and holy reasons, as shall appear
in the last day, when a decisive irreversible judgment shall be
pronounced, and immediately inflicted on them before the world.
When an actor at Athens spoke with admiration of riches, ast
the most valuable acquisition, and of the felicity of rich men; the
people were in an uproar at the immorality of the speech, and
were ready to chase him from the stage: but the poet himself
appeared, and desired them to stop their fury till the catastrophe,
*
It is
* Cum habeat in potestate vindictam, mavult diu tenere patientiam. Cyp-
rian de bon. Patient.
† Ω χρυσε δεξίωμα καλλιςον βροτοις, &c. Cum hi novissimi versus in
Tragoedia Euripidis pronunciati essent, totus populus ad ejiciendum et Acto-
rem et Carmen consurrexit uno impetu: Donec Euripides in medium prosil-
uit, petens ut expectarent, viderentque quem admirator auri exitum faceret.
Senec. Epist. 115.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
421
the wretched end of that sordid miser. Thus we are apt to ac-
cuse the ways of God, when the wicked flourish; but we should
stop our tumultuous thoughts, for their end will absolve Divine
Providence from all undue reflections upon the account of their
temporal happiness.
And the sound belief of this will rectify all mistaking appre-
hensions, and clear all perplexing appearances, about the suffer-
ings of the righteous here.
Indeed, if we consider the holiest men as they are sinners,
their afflictions are so far from blemishing the justice of God,
that they are the signs of his mercy for all is a favor on this
side hell to those that deserve it. David, an excellent saint, ac-
knowledgeth the righteousness of God's judgment with respect
to himself. But when the saints suffer for a righteous cause,
(and, as the Psalmist expresses it, For thy sake are we killed all
the day long, and are counted as sheep for the slaughter, Psal. 44)
there is not a visible correspondency between the Providence of
God in his governing the world, and the unchangeable rules of
justice, that those who do evil should suffer evil, and those who
do well should be happy. As the apostle speaks to the persecu-
ted christians; It is a righteous thing with God, to recompense
tribulation to them that trouble you, and to you who are troubled
rest with us, 2 Thess. 6. 7. Now there is a day coming, when the
persecutors shall be punished, and the saints be rewarded for all
their sufferings; and the distribution of recompenses shall be in
the presence of the world, for the glory of Divine justice. For
the distinction that is made between men at death, is private and
particular, and not sufficient for the honor of God's government:
but at the last day, all men that have lived in several successions
of ages, shall appear, and justice have a solemn process and tri-
umph before angels and men. As some excellent piece that is
to be exposed to public view, is covered with a traverse, to pre-
vent the disturbance in the working, and the discovery of the
work, till brought to such perfection as will surprise with won-
der those that see it; so God is pleased to cover his proceedings
for a time; but in the last day, there will be such a revelation of
the righteous judgment of God, Rom. 2. 7. that those who now
doubt, or complain of his justice, shall admire and adore it.
[3.] The belief of this doctrine, as it vindicates Divine Provi-
dence, so it is powerful to comfort the saints under persecutions
for righteousness sake; especially when innocence is wounded.
with slanderous darts, and calumnies are joined with cruelties,
representing them as worthy of public hatred. It was one of the
subtile artifices of Julian the apostate, to mingle the images of the
heathen Gods with those of the emperors, that the doing rever-
ence (as the christians were commanded) to all together, might
imply a dereliction and renouncing of their religion, and their
simplicity seem impiety; or if, jealous of slipping from their pro-
422
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
fession, they refused to do it, they might seem to deny the ex-
pressions of honor due to their emperors, and be reputed to suf-
fer not as christian martyrs, but as rebels. But the believing
consideration of God's righteous judgment will make them des-
pise the censures and reproaches of malicious adversaries: With
me, saith the Apostle, it is a very small thing that I should be
judged by man's judgment: he that judgeth me is the Lord; 1
Cor. 4. 5. The severest censure was of no more weight, com-
pared with the approbation of God, than the lightest feather that
flies in the air, put in the scales against the globe of the earth.
The assurance of a righteous cause, and a * righteous judge, will
preserve an inward and joyful tranquility of soul in the midst of
all the storms of reproach and scandalous imputations; like the
calmness of a haven, when the sea is tempestuous without. And
this will fortify believers, to bear with an invincible courage all
the violence that is offered to them for their fidelity to God: all
the wrongs and injuries they endure, shall be redressed with in-
finite advantage. The extremest evils to which they are expos-
ed for Christ, are like the chariots of fire sent from God, not to
consume, but conduct Elias in triumph into the highest heaven.
God will give them present support, inward consolations, and a
future crown. There is an appointed day, when oppressed inno-
cence shall obtain the noblest victory, and disgraced godliness the
most public and highest honor the faith of sincere christians
shall be found to praise and glory, 1 Pet. 1. 7. They may suf
fer under the tyranny of time, but shall reign in the kingdom of
eternity. The belief of this, when firmly radicated in the heart,
is so powerful as to make them glory in the sharpest tribulations,
and joyfully triumph over Satan, with his perverted malignant
world. Cantando rumpitur anguis. But alas, the sin, and a
great part of the trouble of the saints, arises from their weakness
of faith, and not patient waiting for the day of the Lord. When
heavy persecutions and great distresses are continued by their
restless adversaries, they are apt, through impatience and insta-
bility of mind, to be full of sorrowful complaints that God delays
their particular deliverance and as sometimes the clock outruns
the motion of the sun, that is the true measure of time; so their
hasty desires prevent the eternal counsel of his will, that has de-
termined the period of the miseries of his people, and of the pros-
perity of the wicked, in the fittest time: and that he suspends
his glorious coming to judge the world in righteousness, discour-
ageth weaker christians, and makes them ready to faint in the
day of adversity. But the Lord is not slack in performing his
promise, as men count slackness; 2 Pet. 3. 9. There is not the
least reason to question his fidelity and power, or to suspect his
*Inter judicem justum et conscientiam tuam, noli timere nisi causam tuam.
Aug.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
423
love and remembrance of his people. And as the stars of heaven
enlighten the earth, but the candles on earth cannot enlighten the
heavens; so the wisdom of God's counsel and providence should
direct us patiently to expect his appointed time, but our glim-
mering reason cannot direct him.
[4.] The serious belief of future Judgment is the most effec-
tual restraint from secret sins. Men are apt to encourage them-
selves in evil upon the account of secrecy; it is the usual
tinder of temptations. If solitude and silence, if the darkness of
the night, or any disguises may conceal their wickedness from
human eyes, they are bold and secure as to God. The Psalm-
ist declares what is the inward principle that acts them, what is
the language of their hearts: all the workers of iniquity boast
themselves; they say, the Lord shall not see, neither shall the
God of Jacob regard it; Psal. 94. 5, 6. But the brutish
folly of men, to think that because they do not see God, that
he does not see them! as if one should shut his eyes in the face
of the sun, and do some foul abominable thing, thinking himself
to be unseen, because he sees no person. How vain is the im-
pure diligence of the adulterer, the crafty diligence of the de-
ceiver, the solicitious diligence of other sinners, to hide things
from the Judge of all? Shall not God search it out, for he knows
the very secrets of the heart? What a confounding discovery
will be made of secret wickedness at the last day? Here obscu-
rity is the mask of shame, that conceals it from the world. Or
if only children and fools, that are not capable to judge of the in-
decency and turpitude of actions, be spectators, men are not
touched with shame for foul things: but then their wickedness
shall be displayed before God, the holy angels and saints. The
actual belief of this would deprive Satan of one of his greatest
advantages, and be a blessed preservative from many sins, that
allure the consent by the temptation of secresy. A considering
christian will reject them with indignation, saying with Joseph,
"How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?”
The sins undiscovered and unpunished by temporal tribunals,
shall then receive a just recompense.
[5.] The remembrance of that strict Judgment is the most
natural and powerful remedy against sensual temptations, that so
easily insinuate and engage the hearts of men. St. Peter reck-
oning up the heathens' sins, lasciviousness, lusts, excess of wine,
revellings, and abominable idolatries, tells the christians, that
the Gentiles thought it strange that they did not run with them
to the same excess of riot, 1 Pet. 4. 3, 4. As the disciples, when
our Saviour walked upon the waters, thought he had been a
Spirit, judging that no real body could tread on them without
sinking thus men are apt to think it impossible to restrain their
carnal appetites when allured by pleasing objects. But the be-
424
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
lief of the terrors of the Lord will damp the sensual affections
when most strongly inclined to forbidden things, and extinguish
delight in sin for delight and fear are inconsistent. Therefore
the wise preacher gives this counsel, Rejoice, O young man, in
thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth,
and walk in the ways of thy heart, and sight of thine eyes:
but know thou for all these things God will bring thee to judg-
ment, Eccl. 11. This will change the apprehensions of the
mind, and alter the taste of the appetite, and make the most en-
ticing and irresistible lusts the objects of our greatest detesta-
tion.
[6.] The consideration that the Son of God, clothed with our
nature, shall judge the world, "affords strong consolation" to his
people; and is a motive of great terror to the wicked. How
comfortable is it to his people that he who loved them above his
life, and was their Redeemer on the cross, shall be their judge
on the throne ? "He is the same Jesus Christ, yesterday, to-
day, and forever;" the same indulgent Saviour in the exaltation
of his glory, as when under sufferings, reproach and shame. He
is described in that glorious appearance, by the conjunct titles of
his majesty and power, The great God, Tit. 2. 12, 13. and of his
compassion and mercy, "Our Saviour," to signify his ability and
affection to make them happy. When he comes with a heaven-
ly train of angels to judgment, he will be as tender of his ser-
vants, as when he suffered for them in his humble state. He
that paid their debt, and sealed their pardon with his own
blood, will certainly publish the acquittance. How is it possible
he should condemn those for whom he died, and who appear with
the impressions of his reconciling blood upon them? How revi-
ving is it, that Christ, whose glory was the end and perfection of
their lives, Phil. 1. shall dispose their states forever? That he,
who esteems every act of their charity and kindness done to his
servants as done to himself, shall dispense the blessed reward?
Then the King will say to them placed on his right hand; Come,
ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you
from the foundation of the world, Matt. 25. O the transports of
joy to hear those words from his life-breathing lips! The proph-
et breaks forth into an extacy, "How beautiful are the feet of the
messengers of peace, those that bring glad tidings of salvation!
But how much more beautiful is the face of the author of our
peace and salvation!" O how full of serenity, and clemency, and
glory! The expectation of this makes them languish with impa-
tience for his coming. Though the preparations of that day are
so dreadful, when the sun shall be darkened, and the moon turn-
ed into blood, Acts 2. and the stars fall like leaves in autumn,
yet it is styled a day of refreshment to the saints.
But how dreadful will his coming in majesty to judgment be
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
425
to the wicked!
:
"They shall see him whom they have pierc-
ed," and with bitter lamentation remember the indignities offer-
ed to him. What excuses can they allege, why they did not be-
lieve and obey the gospel? Our Saviour revealed high myste-
ries, but confirmed them with great miracles. He required strict
holiness, but offered divine grace to enable men to do his will.
"He poured forth his Spirit upon them," but their hearts were
as hard as the rocks, and as barren as the sands. Then he will
reproach them for their insolent contempt of all the perfections
of his Divine nature, and the bleeding sufferings of his human
nature to reconcile them to God for their undervaluing "neg-
lect of the great salvation," so dearly purchased, and so freely
and earnestly offered to them for their obstinacy, that the pur-
ple streams that flowed from his crucified body, that all the sor-
rows and agonies of his soul were not effectual persuasives to
make them forsake their sins: for their "preferring the bramble
to reign over them," Satan the destroyer of souls, and ungrateful
rejecting the true vine, the blessed Saviour, who by so many
miraculous mercies solicited their love, and deserved their ser-
vice; this will make the sentence as just as terrible, and the more
terrible because just. This will exasperate the anguish, that the
gospel shall be a sayor of death to them ;" and the blessed
Redeemer pronounce them "cursed," and despatch them "to
everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels for ever."
The judgment of the Redeemer will be more heavy than that of
the Creator. For all the riches of his goodness which they des-
pised, shall be the measure of their guilt and woes. All the
means of grace used for their conversion, but frustrated by their
perverseness, shall be charged upon their score. What conster-
ર
nation will seize the wicked, when ten thousand accusers shall
rise up in judgment against them, and not one advocate appear
for their defence? Satan will be ready to aggravate their sins
above his own for although the superior excellence of his na-
ture and state did heighten his obligation, and consequently his
disobedience to his Creator, and that he sinned of himself, deriv-
ed a guilt upon him exceeding that of man's original sin, who was
seduced to his ruin; yet in that justice was so quick and severe,
that the angels after their sin were immediately expelled from
their blessed habitation, no space of repentance was allowed;
and no mediator interposed to obtain terms of reconciliation with
the incensed Deity, their doom was final and irrevocable: but
after our rebellious sin, the Son of God, such was his immortal
love, was willing to be mortal to redeem sinful men, and freely
offered himself a sacrifice to atone the divine displeasure: and a
day of grace and long sufferance was granted, and many compas-
* Videtis vulnera quæ inflixistis, agnoscitis latus quod pupugistis, quoniam
at per vos, et propter vos apertum est, nec intrare voluistis, Aug.
VOL. I.
54
*
426
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
sionate invitations were sent from heaven to soften their stony
hearts but they neglected and despised the grace of the gospel,
and wilfully excluded themselves from mercy.
In this respect
they are more guilty than the fallen angels; and justice will re-
venge the abuse of mercy. Do they hope to soften the judge by
submissions and deprecations? Alas! he will be inflexible to all
their prayers and tears. The Lamb will be then a lion armed
with terrors for their destruction. Or can they appeal to a higher
court to mitigate or reverse the sentence? No, his authority is
supreme, and confirmed by the immutable oath of God. Or, do
they think to resist the execution of the sentence? Desperate
folly! The angels, notwithstanding their numbers and strength,
could not for a moment escape his revenging hand. The whole
world of sinners is of no more force against his wrath, than the
light dust against a whirlwind, or dry stubble against devouring
fire. Or do they think, by a stubborn spirit, to endure it? Self-
deceiving wretches! If the correction of his children here, though
allayed, and for their amendment, make "their beauty and strength
consume away as a moth," how insupportable will the vengeance
be on his obstinate enemies? "Who knows the power of his
r?" Who can sound the depths of his displeasure?
anger
CHAPTER VI.
The consideration of eternal Judgment should powerfully move us to prepare
for it. Rules of our acceptance in that day. Unfeigned faith in the Lord
Jesus is absolutely necessary for our acceptance. The pardon of our sins,
and the rewarding our services, is upon the account of our Saviour's mer-
itorious obedience and sufferings. Sincere and uniform obedience will be
only accepted of our judge. The frequent trial of conscience prepares us
for the last Judgment. This leads to repentance for past sins, and pre-
serves from sins afterwards. The improving of our talents will make the
last judgment comfortable. The zealous maintaining the truth and cause
of Christ, will be rewarded in the last judgment. A beneficent love to the
afflicted saints shall then be rewarded. An excitation to watch and pray
that we may with comfort appear before the everlasting judge.
[7.] The consideration of eternal Judgment should be a pow-
erful incentive to prepare ourselves for it. The affair is infinite-
ly serious, for it concerns our salvation or damnation forever.
Yet the pleasures and business of the world fasten men in secu-
rity, and hinder the entire application of their minds to prepare
for their last account. It is an awful caution of our Saviour to
浊
​OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
427
his disciples, "Take heed lest at any time your hearts be over-
charged with surfeiting and drunkenness, and cares of this life,
and so that day come upon you unawares: for as a snare shall it
come on all them that dwell on the face of the earth." A disso-
lute voluptuous course of life is joined with a brutish neglect of
God and the soul and the indulging the carnal appetite, though
not in such enormous excesses as the profane are guilty of, alien-
ates the minds of men from due considering their spiritual state,
and lessens the preventive fear that makes us serious and dili-
gent "to be found of God in peace." And others are so involv-
ed in secular business, that they are not at leisure to regard the
"one thing necessary :" their minds are so over-shaded with the
cares of the present world, they cannot take a right aspect of the
world to come. The flood broke in upon the old world whilst
they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in mar-
riage, buying and selling," and destroyed them all. The last
fire will devour this world in the same wretched incogitancy, and
stupid neglect to prepare themselves for judgment. As it was
in the days of Noah, so shall it be in the day's of the Son of
It is a divine and solemn warning, " Behold, I come as a
thief in the night blessed is he that watcheth and keepeth his
garments, lest he be found naked," without the robe of holiness,
and be exposed to confounding shame in that day. When se-
cure and careless sinners shall say, "Peace and safety, sudden
destruction will come upon them, as travail upon a woman with
child," as surprizingly, as irresistibly; " and they shall not es-
cape. But the "wise foresee the evil," and esteem it their in-
comparable interest to secure the favor of the supreme judge.
It is the inference the Apostle makes from the certainty of our
appearing before the righteous judge, Wherefore we labor, that
whether present or absent, in this or the next life, we may be
accepted of him, 2 Cor. 5. 9. This was his great design, his
chief care, his duty and his glory: never did any person more
ardently aspire, and ambitiously endeavor for the obtaining
a kingdom, than he did to secure his own acceptance with the
Lord. In order to this, I will lay down the rules of our accept-
ance in that day, and conclude the argument.
man."
22
(1.) Unfeigned faith in the Lord Jesus is absolutely necessa-
ry, that we may be accepted. This is such a belief of his all-
sufficient merits, and his merciful inclination to save us, that the
guilty and self-condemned sinner entirely consents to the terms
of the gospel, as well as to the privileges of it, with a reliance
upon his merits, and a resolution to obey his precepts. He is a
Priest on a throne, a Prince, and a Saviour, and so must be ac-
knowledged and received. Upon this condition his righteous-
ness is freely imputed to us for our justification unto life, without
which we must perish in our sins, For,
I. The best saints are guilty, and deeply obnoxious to the law,
428
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
and the judgment of God is invariably according to truth; so
that appearing in their sins, they will be cast forever. God's
tribunal, like that of the severe Roman judge, is reorum scopu-
lus, a rock that dashes in pieces all the guilty that come to it.
Therefore the Psalmist so earnestly deprecates; "enter not into
judgment with thy servent, O Lord; for in thy sight shall no man
living be justified." And the Apostle, though a transcendent
saint, divests himself of his own righteousness, that he may be
entirely covered with the righteousness of Christ; and renoun-
ces all things, that he may be found in him as his surety in that
day of accounts, and obtain pardon by virtue of his satisfaction
for sin. We cannot perfectly obey the commands, nor appease
the displeasure of God: but the expiatory sacrifice of Christ
propitiates the divine justice. This alone can make us stand in
judgment before the "fiery law," and the fiery tribunal, and the
judge "who is a consuming fire," to all the guilty that appear in
their sins before him. The blood of the mediator has sprinkled
the throne of God in heaven; and our conscience being sprink-
led with it by an unfeigned faith, we may appear before God the
judge of all with a humble confidence, and enter into the holy
of holies, the celestial sanctuary, with joy.
2. Not only the pardon of our sins, but the acceptance and
rewarding of our services with eternal glory, is upon the account
of our Saviour's complete righteousness. There are defile-
:
ments in the persons, and defects in the works of the saints.
Their most holy and fervent prayers are perfumed by the in-
cense of his intercession, and so become grateful to God, Rev.
8. 3. Our best virtues are mixed and shadowed with imperfec-
tions; but in him all graces were conspicuous in their consum-
mate degrees. Our obedience, supposing it perfect, is of no
desert: "When we have done all, we are unprofitable ser-
vants" but his obedience was infinitely meritorious by the un-
ion of the Deity with his human nature, and is the foundation of
the excellent reward. Not that his merits derive a value to our
works to make them worthy of eternal glory: as some noble
mineral infused into water, that is in itself without taste or effi-
cacy, gives it a medicinal tincture and virtue; for this is impos-
sible, since the infinite dignity of his person, and his most per-
fect habitual and actual holiness, that are the fountains and rea-
sons of his merits, are incommunicable to our persons and works.
But the active and passive obedience of Christ is so satisfactory
and meritorious, that God is pleased graciously to reward with
the crown of life the mean services of those who are by a lively
and purifying faith united to him.
(2.) Sincere obedience, that is, a uniform and entire respect
to all the commands of God, will alone be accepted in that day :
for his authority runs through all, and binds them on the con-
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
429
*
t.
(C
science. David had this testimony from God himself, that he
was a man after his own heart, that fulfilled all his will." And
St. John refers the decision of our state to this, "If our hearts
condemn us" of any allowed sin of omission or commission,
much more God will, who is greater than our hearts, and knows
all things, 1 John 3. 20, 21. But if the illuminated tender con-
science doth not condemn us of insincerity, we have confidence
towards God," that he will spare and accept us notwithstanding
our frailties, and give free and safe access into his presence.
The lives of many are chequered with a strange disparity, they
are restrained from some sins of apparent odiousness, but indul-
gent to others; they are strict in some duties, but loose and
slack in others, as if they hoped by way of commutation to be ac-
cepted of God; to expiate their delinquencies in one kind, by
supererogating in another. Some are painted Pharisees in the
duties of the first table, very exact in the formalities of out-
ward devotions, but gross publicans in the duties of the second;
careless of justice and equity, and charity to men: others are in
appearance strictly moral in the discharge of their duties to men,
and negligent of their obligations to God. But partial obedience
can never endure the trial of conscience, much less of God.
For what is the weak light of our minds, to the pure eyes of his
glory? It will make us liable to inward rebuke now, and to open
confusion at the last. St. Paul's rejoicing was from the testimo-
ny of his conscience, that in simplicity and Godly sincerity, he
had his conversation in the world, 2 Cor. 1. 12. And, as he ex-
presses it in another place, it was his daily exercise "to have a
conscience void of offence towards God, and towards men."
Though our conquest of sin be not complete, yet our resolution
and endeavors must be to mortify it in every kind. Though our
obedience has not the perfection of degrees, we must be equally
regarding the divine law. If there be any secret-favored sin,
either of omission or commission, it will render our petitions un-
acceptable at the throne of Grace, and our persons at the throne
of judgment; "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will
not hear my prayer." The law requires the performance of our
duty without abatement or denounceth the penalty without allay
or mitigation the gospel has not relaxed the strictness of the
law as it is the rule of life, but as it was the condition of obtain-
ing life. Sincere obedience is accepted by that gracious coven-
ant, where the legal perfection is wanting; but that is indispen-
sibly required of all. I may illustrate this by a passage of Al-
exander the great, who being desirous to learn geometry, ap-
plied himself to a skilful instructor in it. But his warlike dispo-
sition made him more capable to conquer, than to measure the
carth; so that tired with the first propositions, he desired his
master to make the scheme more clear and plain, and easy to
430
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
him. * To whom the master replied, that the theorems of that
science were equally difficult to all, and required the same at-
tention of raind to understand them. Thus the gospel of mercy
requires of all sincere sanctification, and serious endeavors to
perfect holiness in the fear of God, and without this none shall
be exempted from condemnation.
To the sincerity of obedience, I shall add a more restrained
notion of it, as respecting religion. The duties of piety consist
of an outward and inward part; and the one without the other,
is but as a carcass without a qickening soul. Now there will be
an exquisite anatomy of the heart in that judgment, a discovery
of all the principles and motives by which men are acted; and
then he that is a saint inwardly, "in the spirit," who with pure
aims and holy affections hath served God, shall have "praise of
him." And those who have used God to enjoy the world, that
have assumed pretences of piety for secular ends, shall be re-
proved. This will be a cause of wonder in that day, that many
"who are highly esteemed by men" as excellent saints,
"shall
be an abomination to God." That in the broad way to hell thou-
sands go thither, is sad beyond expression, but not strange at
all but that in the path to heaven any should descend to hell,
is astonishing. That those who live without God in the world,
in the profane neglect of his worship, in a dissolute disorderly
course, should fall under condemnation, is believed of all: but
that those who appeared zealous in religion shall be at last re-
jected, is contrary to universal expectation. And not only the
gross hypocrite that deceives others, but he that deceives him-
self by the external practice of holy duties, without correspond-
ent lively affections; that prays with that coldness, as if he had
no desire to be heard, and hears with that carelessness, as if he
had no desire to be sanctified by the word, and is conversant in
other parts of divine service in that slight manner, as if he had
no design to be saved, shall by a convincing upbraiding light see
his wickedness, in dishonoring that God whom he pretended to
worship, and neglecting his soul. When the upright as pure
gold shall be more radiant by the fire, the insincere like repro-
bate silver shall not endure that severe trial.
(3.) The frequent discussion of conscience, and reviewing
our ways, is necessary in order to our comfortable appearing be-
fore our judge. This is a duty of constant revolution: for while
we are in flesh, the best saints, notwithstanding all ther vigil-
ance and dilgence, are overtaken by surprisal, and sometimes
overborn by strong temptations; and it is more necessary to beg
for daily pardon, than for our daily bread. Under the law, if
any one had by touching a dead body contracted uncleanness,
*Cui præceptor: ista, inquit, omnibus eadem sunt æque difficilia. Sen.
Ep. 51.
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
431
he was to wash his clothes in the evening, and not to lie down
in his uncleanness. This was typical of our duty, that we
should wash away our sinful defilements every day in the puri-
fying fountain of Christ's blood, "that it is set open for sin and
for uncleanness." And the method of the gospel to obtain the
grant of pardon, and our comfortable sense, and the blessed ef-
fects of it, is this, there must be a mournful sight, and serious
acknowledgment of our daily sins, and a judging ourselves by
the domestical tribunal in our breasts as worthy of condemna-
tion. For though we cannot satisfy divine justice for the least
sin, we must glorify it; and with humility and ferveney desire
that God would graciously forgive our renewed sins, with un-
feigned resolutions and care against them for the future. Thus
we are to sue out our pardon for sins committed every day.
And whereas many errors in regard of our frailty, and their
finesse, do slip from us, we should with contrite spirits implore
the Divine majesty to cleanse us from our secret sins, Psal. 19.
12. such as through ignorance or inadvertancy escape from our
observation. If we are obliged to be reconciled to an offended
or offending brother before the night, and "the sun must not go
down upon our wrath," much more to be reconciled to an of-
fended God, that his displeasure may be atoned. The morning
and evening sacrifice was a figure of the constant use of Christ's
merits and mediation for us. The secure neglect of renewing
our repentance for our renewed sins, deprives us of the comforts
of the covenant, and will make the thoughts of judgment as
heavy as mountains upon the conscience, when it is awaken-
ed out of its slumber. But when the soul's accounts are kept
clear with heaven every day, O what a blessed rest does the
penitent believer enjoy in the favor of God! O the Divine
calm of conscience, when our debts are concealed in the book
of God's remembrance! If we should be unexpectedly sum-
moned to appear "before the judge of all," the sight of our
sins will rather excite thankful action, and joyful praises of God
for his mercy, that he hath pardoned them, than fearful despair-
ing thoughts of his mercy, that he will not pardon them.
And as this considering our ways leads to repentance, and is
a remedy for past sins, so it is a powerful preservative from sins
afterwards. For as in war the greatest care is to fortify the
weakest part of a besieged town, and make it impregnable; so
a christian, by the experience of his infirmity and danger, will
be more wise and wary, more circumspect and resolved against
those sins whereby he has been often soiled, to prevent the dai-
ly incursion, and sudden surreption by them. And according to
the degrees of our innocence, we have confidence of acceptance
with God in judgment.
(4.) Let us improve with a wise and singular diligence, the
talents committed to our trust for in that day we shall be re-
432
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
sponsible for all that we have received. All the blessings we
possess, whether natural, our life, our faculties, our endowments,
our health and strength; or civil, honor and dignity, riches and
reputation; or spiritual, the gospel in its light and power, the
graces and assistance of the Holy Ghost, as they are gifts from
God's love, so they are talents to be employed for his glory.
We are stewards, not proprietaries: for the supreme Lord does
not relinquish his right in our blessings, that we may dispose of
them at our own pleasure, but hath prescribed rules for our
using them in order to his glory, our own good, and the benefit
of others. And it is sad to consider, that usually those who en-
joy the greatest gifts, render the least acknowledgments, and
the most abundant in favors are most barren in thankfulness.
Time, that unvaluable treasure, that is due to God and the soul,
the price of which arises from the work of salvation to be done
in it, how is it squandered away? Conscience would blush at
the serious reflection, that every day so much is spent in the
business of the world, or pleasures, and so little redeemed for
communion with the Holy God: that as in the prophetic dream
the lean kine devoured the fat, so unconcerning vanities take
up that time that should be employed for our last and blessed
end. While time is miserably wasted, the soul lies a bleeding
to everlasting death. More particularly, we shall be accountable
for all the days of "the Son of man" that we have seen, all
the special seasons of grace: these we should improve for our
eternal advantage, to prepare us for the divine presence above.
But alas, the Lord's day, that is consecrated for the immediate
service of God, and should be entirely spent in it, and in things
that have a necessary subordination to it, yet neither the en-
forcement of duty, nor incitations of love prevail upon the most,
conscientiously to employ it in spiritual affairs. If they afford
their presence at the public worship, it is thought enough; and
as if the rest of the day was unsanctified time, they waste it
either in complimental visits, or secular business, in recreations,
or things impertinent to their salvation.
Riches are an excellent instrument in doing good: gold is the
most precious and extensive metal, and by a marvellous art an
ounce may be beaten out into some hundred leaves: but it is a
more happy art by giving it, to enrich our souls, and supply the
necessities of many others. But great estates are often used to
foment men's vicious guilty affections, pride and sensuality; and
it is called* greatness and magnificence to waste them in sump-
tuous vanities. I instance in these talents, because they are
usually abused to the dishonor of the donor. If the slothful ser-
vant that hid his single talent in a napkin, and returned it with-
out advantage to his Lord, was "cast into outer darkness, where
* Nullis vitiis desunt pretiosa nomina. Plin. Lib. 73..
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
433
there is weeping and gnashing of teeth;" a fearful image of
what will befal all unprofitable persons: how severe will their
accounts be, who lavish out their numerous talents to gratify
their carnal appetites, and betray the blessings of God to his en-
emy the devil? Only the wise and good servant, that with pru-
dent contrivance, and zealous endeavors, improves his talents,
shall from the gracious Lord, in whom are all attractives and
remuneratives of our service, receive an excellent reward.
(5.) Another rule of our acceptance at the last day is, that
we must with courage and zeal maintain in our rank and places
the cause of Christ. For thus he declares expressly, Whosoev-
er shall confess me before men, him also will I confess before
my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me
before men, him also will I deny before my Father which is in
heaven, Mat. 10. 33. 34. When the truth, purity, and power of
religion, in doctrine, worship and practice, is discountenanced
and overborn, our Saviour commands, and will reward our un-
discouraged visible constancy in it. He will not only reign in
our hearts, but be honored with our lips, and in our conversa-
tions, Rom. 10. We usurp the title of christians, unless we ad-
here to our duty in despite of all opposition. The temptations
that usually withdraw men from confessing and glorifying Christ,
are such as work upon the passions of fear and shame. And
the considerations of the last judgment will fortify us against
both.
1. Sometimes religion exposes the professors of it to the loss
of all temporal enjoyments, and of life itself. And when the
honor of our Saviour requires such a service of us, when that
confirmation is necessary to recommend Divine truth to the be-
lief and affections of others, when our cheerful and courageous
example in suffering, would animate those that are fearful to
constancy and confession, then from cowardice to withdraw our
testimony, is to betray him again. When our duty is attended
with extreme dangers, then the sincerity and perfection of our
love to Christ is brought to the strictest trial. As true carbun-
cles are discovered in the night, for the darkness redoubles their
splendor, so the fidelity of christians is evident in persecutions,
that inflame and excite their zeal to magnify the name of Christ
in the sight of the world. There is no fear in love, but perfect
love casts out fear, 1 John 4. 18. But fearfulness hinders the
expressing acts of love to Christ, and betrays to apostacy. For
as every passion is a perturbation, so especially carnal fear, that
blinds and disturbs the mind, and hinders the serious considera--
tion of the reasons of our duty, and those motives to persevere
in it, that are the fountains of our strength. From hence the
timorous are often treacherous, and faith lies buried under the
cold pale ashes of fear. Now the irregularity of this passion is
best cured, by directing it to the most powerful object. As the
VOL. I.
55
434
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
rod of Moses swallowed up the rods of the magicians; so a strong-
er fear will subdue that which is in a weaker degree. Our Sa-
viour therefore threatens those that for the fear of men (who can
but kill the body) dare not own and defend his truth and cause,
that he will renounce them before his Father in the great day,
the immediate consequence of which will be the destruction of
body and soul in hell, Mat. 10. 31. 32. 33. If earthly poten-
tates had a jurisdiction over heaven, if men were to be tried
by their laws at the last day, if their power extended to eter-
nity, they might exact unlimited obedience to their wills; but
conscience is a more desirable friend and terrible enemy than
Cæsar; and all temporal tribunals are subordinate and account-
able to the supreme and eternal: there is "one lawgiver and
judge, who is able to save, and to destroy forever." It is the
worst perdition to secure ourselves by the neglect of our duty,
when we ought to perish for the glory of our Saviour.
that saves his life, shall lose it.”
"He
2. Shame wounds deeper the breasts of some than violence.
Zedekiah would rather expose his kingdom and life to the fury
of the Chaldean armies, than be himself exposed as an object
of derision by surrendering it. And Satan, who understands the
temper of men's spirits, suits his temptations accordingly. The
purity and holiness of religion expressed in the actions of the
saints, is by the scurrilous reflections and bitter sarcasms of
This is as foolish and
profane persons made contemptible.
malicious, as if a slave should reproach the son of a king, that
he was like his father in his countanance and actions: for by
how much the resemblance of God's holiness appears with more
evidence and eminence in their lives, their divine relation is
more certainly and justly to be acknowledged. Yet how many
are ashamed of this glory? And zeal to vindicate the honor of
religion is traduced and villified, either as the effect of designing
faction, or of the indiscretion and rashness of a weak judgment
and strong passions. In every age the faithful servants of God
are by scornful titles despised: we are accounted, saith the
Apostle, the off-scouring of the world, 1 Cor. 4. 17. But a gen-
erous christian looks upon disgrace for the sake of Christ as his
honor. The Apostles rejoiced that they were accounted worthy
to suffer shame for his name, Acts, 5. 41. It is said of the Bap-
tist, "he was not that light but came to bear witness to that light:"
intimating as if that were the next degree of dignity to it. And
our Saviour, speaking of the proofs of his divine mission, reck-
ons up the witnesses of such dignity, that it is not possible for
sacred ambition to aspire to higher honor, than to be in conjunc-
tion with them; They are John the Baptist, his miracles, his
Father, and the Scriptures, John 5. 33. 36, 37. 39.
Let us appeal then from the light depraved fancies of carnal
men, to the wise and faithful judgment and authority of the Son
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
435
of God. He will at the last day, in the presence of his Father,
and all the court of heaven, give an incomparable crown to all
that have "despised shame" for his sake. But those vile spirits
whose courage of straw is quelled by vain opinion, and the re-
proaches of fools, and have deserted the cause of Christ shall
then be clothed with confusion: for this we are assured by our
Judge, that whosoever shall be ashamed of me and my words in
this adulterous and sinful generation, of him also shall the Son of
man be ashamed when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with
the holy angels, Mar. 8. 38. If the unnatural brothers were as-
tonished when the governor of Egypt told them, "I am Joseph,
whom ye sold ;" how much more will false christians, when the
Lord of glory shall tell them, I am Jesus, whom for base shame
ye denied? How will it confound those abject wretches to be a
spectacle of abhorrence and scorn before that universal glorious
confluence? They would choose rather to be covered under the
ruins of the world. If we value and desire the approbation of the
King of angels, if we fear a final rejection from him, to obtain the
one and avoid the other, we must entirely adhere to his interest,
without any respect to the eyes and esteem of the perverse de-
ceived world.
(6.) A cordial beneficent love to the saints, is a requisite
qualification of our acceptance in the Day of Judgment. Then
shall the king say to them on his right hand, come ye blessed of
my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the found-
ation of the world. For I was an hungry, and ye gave me meat;
I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye
took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye vis-
ited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me, Mat. 25. 34. 35.
36. The union and endearments betwixt Christ and his people,
are mutual and reflective; as they are extremely tender of his
glory, for he is concerned in all that is done to them. And
though the perfection of love consists more in the affections of
the heart than in outward offices, yet our Saviour most congru-
ously produces in judgment the conspicuous effects of love to
them, the supplying their wants, allaying their sorrows, owning
them when obscured and depressed by afflictions, and injuriously
treated by others. This love of service that is directed and ex-
ercised towards the saints for the image of God shining in them,
because they are the children of God, and members of Christ, and
therefore extended to all in whom the reason of that love ap-
pears, shall be gloriously rewarded; for he interprets what is
done upon his account to those who are his own by so many dear
titles, as done to himself. And what is more becoming his ex-
cellent goodness, than to reward the works of mercy with saving
mercy? But those who when Christ presents himself to them in
his poor distressed members, and solicits their assistance, to pro-
tect them from injuries, to refresh their sorrows, to support them
436
}
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
in their exigencies; those that have ability, but want affection to
do them good, and incompassionately neglect the suffering saints,
shall be sentenced to be tormented with the apostate angels for-
ever. What indignity is it to the Son of God, that those for whom
he shed his most precious blood, should be in less value and re-
gard with many, than the dogs and horses maintained for their
pleasure? And if those on the left hand shall be condemned to
eternal fire for the coldness of their love; how terrible will the
judgment be of those, that from the heat of their enmity outra-
geously persecute the servants of Christ for his sake, in their
persons, estates, reputations, that with a worse than barbarous in-
humanity seek their ruin? Is there any sin of a more mortal
guilt? The infernal furnace is seven-fold heated for the punish-
ing such wickedness.
4
To conclude this argument: let us observe the command of
our Saviour, to "watch and pray always, that we may be count-
ed worthy to stand before the Son of man." These are duties
of universal influence into our lives; the one prevents careless-
ness, the other vain confidence in ourselves; and the considera-
tion of judgment to come, is the greatest motive to them, and the
first principle of holiness. This should work more powerful in
us, considering the day of death is equivalent to the day of judg-
ment to every person; for then a particular sentence (decisive
and irrevocable) passes, that shall be published at the last day.
Methinks the terrors of the Lord should engage our souls and
senses to a continual preparation for his coming. It is represent-
ed so as to affect the eye, and keep it vigilant: Behold the Lord
comes with ten thousand of his saints, to execute judgment upon
all, Jude 15. Behold he comes in the clouds, and every eye shall
see him; Rev. 1. 9. And to call the ear, and make it attentive;
The Lord himself shall descend from heaven with the voice of
the archangel, and with the trump of God, 1 Thess. 4. 16. How
circumspect should we be in all our ways, since every action
shall be reviewed by our Judge? St. Peter strongly infers from
the dissolution of the world, as a most cogent argument, that we
should be exactly and universally holy: Seeing then all these
things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought we to
be in all holy conversation and godliness? I Pet. 3. 11, 12. But
the consideration of the eternal judgment immediately succeed-
ing the destruction of the world; O how powerful should it be
upon conscience and the affections, to regulate the whole course
of our lives with a final respect to God's tribunal!
In short; that which we read of the success of the apostle's
preaching to the Athenians upon the present subject, the immor-
tality of the soul, comprised in the resurrection of the body and
future judgment, is the same in all times and places: And when
they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked; and
others said, We will hear thee again of this matter; and others
OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT.
437
believed; Acts 17. 32, 34. There are three differences of the
hearers of this doctrine of so great importance: some deride it
as an extravagant fancy; some believe it, and yield up themselves
entirely in obedience to it; others do not absolutely reject it as
the first, nor accept it as the second, but have a conjecture, or
slight superficial opinion of it, or a speculative assent as to a his-
tory of things that do not concern them, and defer the serious
consideration and applying of it to themselves. And of this third
sort (O grief!) are the most of those who are christians in name:
they delay till death the solemn reflecting upon the final judg-
ment, and the inevitable consequence of it, a blessed or miserable
estate forever. And whereas the Apostle, who had infallible as-
surance of God's love, did with a holy severity and self-denial
abstain from all carnal complacencies that might hazard the nev-
er-fading crown: I keep under my body, and bring it into sub-
jection, lest by any means when I have preached to others, I
should be a cast-away. 1 Cor. 19. 27. *Yet the most live and
die in a secure state, without preparation to appear before the
presence of his glory.
*Væ miseris nobis, qui de electione nostra nullam adhuc Dei vocem cogno-
vimus, et jam in otio quasi de securitate torpemus. Greg. Lib. 29. Moral.
ΟΓ
HEAVEN.
CHAPTER I.
PSAL. XVI. II.
Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fullness
of joy, at thy right hand there are pleasures forever more.
The Saviour of men was, before and under the law, by various predictions
and types described, to prepare the world for his reception with faith and
obedience. In this psalm, a mixture of history and prophecy. The words
of the text applied by the Apostle to Christ's resurrection and ascension,
and glory in heaven. The divine presence is the supreme and eternal
felicity of the saints in heaven. The glory of the place considered. The
happiness of heaven illustrated by sensible representations.
The divine wisdom and goodness was pleased, before and du-
ring the legal dispensation, by various predictions and types, to
delineate the person of our Redeemer, and the work of redemp-
tion, to prepare the minds of men for his reception at his coming
into the world. All the evangelical prophecies recorded in the
old testament, as dispersed rays, are conspicuously united in
him, "the sun of righteousness" and as in a curious piece of
Mosaic work, each stone (according to its natural vein and col-
or) is so exactly disposed, and with that proportion joined to
another, that the lively figure of the human body results from
the composure; so by variety of types, the entire image of our
Saviour's life is represented from his first appearing on earth, to
his ascending to heaven.
Now the due comparing and observing the harmonious agree-
ment between the prophecies and types of the old testament
440
OF HEAVEN.
:
and the history of the new, is a powerful means to produce and
establish a truly lively faith in the blessed Jesus, as the promised
Messiah for it is an infallible argument of the Divine Provi-
dence, in disposing times and things so, as the oracle should be
verified in the event, and the misterious figures substantially ex-
hibited in the manifestation of the Son of God. It is true, his
miracles raised admiration, and argued the concurrence of power
truly divine for the exercise of an absolute dominion over the
order of nature, is a royalty reserved to God; but that his miracu-
lous operations were foretold, added more authority to his per-
son, and efficacy to his doctrine. Therefore our Saviour him-
self, in answer to the public question sent from John the Baptist,
whether he were the expected Saviour of the world, commanded
the messengers to tell him what they heard and saw; The
blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are
cleansed the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up; Mat. 11.
Which healing miracles were foretold by the Prophet Isaiah, Isa.
35. as the clear and distinguishing characters of the Messiah
from all seducers, when he should come. The fulfilling God's
word by the works of Christ, of which there was sensible evi-
dence was an irrefutable testimony that his miracles were true,
and performed for the confirmation of the truth.
Now of all the chosen saints that foretold the coming of Christ,
the new law of grace, and the new kingdom of glory, that he should
reveal and establish; of all that represented him in various par-
ticulars, concerning his person and offices, there was not a more
illustrious type than David, that by prophetical words, and by
prophetical actions did so clearly describe him.
*
In this Psalm, composed by him, there is a mixture of history
and prophecy; some things in the literal and immediate sense
referring to David: "I have set the Lord always before me;
because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved." Our
being at God's right hand, implies the highest honor; his being
at our right hand, implies present and sure protection and de-
fence and of this David had the infallible promise of God, to
secure his hope, notwithstanding all his unrighteous and impla-
cable enemies. But the following verses are applicable to Da-
vid, but in a lower sense, and by a remote metaphor, and have
their literal and principal accomplishment in our Saviour: "thou
wilt not leave my soul in hell;" that is, in the state of the dead;
"nor suffer thy holy one to see corruption:" that is, the body of
our Saviour should be exempted from the corrupting power of
the grave, and restored the third day to life. In this propriety
and perfection of sense, the prophecy is applied by St. Peter to
our Saviour's alone: for David died and saw corruption, Acts 2.
27. 29. and his body still remains under the dominion of death.
* Illorum hominum non tantum lingua, sed et vita prophetica fuit. Aug.
OF HEAVEN.
441
And this last verse, "thou wilt shew me the path of life; in thy
presence is fulness of joy, at thy right hand are pleasures forev-
er more;" is applied by the Apostle to Christ, his resurrection,
ascension to heaven, "and sitting at the right hand of the ma-
jesty on high. Thou wilt shew me the path of life;" that is,
introduce him into the kingdom of glory, and by experimental
fruition make him partaker of it: "in thy presence is fulness of
joy, at thy right hand are pleasures forever more."
In these words the causes and excellencies of the heavenly
life are expressed. The causes, are the glorious presence of God,
and the intimate application of his presence, and discovery of
his peculiar love to the saints. This our blessed Saviour had
respect to, as the complete reward of his sufferings: "Thou shalt
make me full of joy with thy countenance." And his right hand
implies his bounty that dispenses, and his power that secures our
happiness. The excellencies of it, are "fulness of joy, and pleas-
ures forever more.”
From the words I shall observe one proposition.
The enjoyment of the Divine presence in Heaven, is the su-
preme and everlasting felicity of the saints.
In discoursing of this point I will consider,
I. The place wherein the Divine presence is gloriously reveal-
ed. 2. Shew that the enjoyment of the Divine presence is the
supreme felicity of the saints. 3. Prove that the felicity shall
be everlasting.
[1.] The place wherein the Divine presence is revealed. It
is consistent with the divine immensity, to be differently present
in some places. The essential presence of God is the same
every where; the influxive declarative presence of God is spe-
cial, and otherwise in one place than another. He is more ex-
cellently present in the living temples, his saints on earth, by
the gracious and eminent operations of his spirit, than he is in
the rest of the world: he is most excellently present in heaven,
by the clearest manifestation and the express characters and ef-
fects of the divine perfections.
This inferior world is framed with exquisite order; "the earth
is full of the glory of the Lord :" yet it is but the sediment of the
creation, the habitation of birds and beasts, nay of rebellious sin-
ners and by this we may raise our thoughts to conceive some-
thing of the glorious sanctuary of life, and blessedness above.
It is called the heaven of heavens," which is the highest
comparison, to instruct and astonish us with the amplitude and
glory of the place. It is a place becoming the majesty of God,
the image of his immensity. Our Saviour assures us,
"In his
Father's house are many mansions," to receive the innumerable
company of glorified saints. It is called the excellent glory, 2
Pet. 1. 17.
VOL. I.
56
442
OF HEAVEN.
The shining firmament, with all the luminaries that adorn it,
are but the frontispiece to the highest heaven. All the lustre
of diamonds, the fire of carbuncles and rubies, the brightness of
pearls, are dead in comparison of its glory. "It is the throne
of the God of glory," wherein his majesty is revealed in the
most illustrious manner. For pleasantness it is called Paradise,
in allusion to the delightful garden planted by the hands of God
himself for Adam, his favorite, whilst innocent. There is the
tree of life. There are rivers of pleasure springing from the
divine presence. It is called "the inheritance of the saints in
light;" to signify the glory and joy of the place for light has
splendor, and conciliates cheerfulness, and is a fit emblem of
both. As on the contrary, hell is descibed by "the blackness
of darkness forever," to signify the sadness and despair of the
damned; and because in that centre of misery, a perpetual
night and invincible darkness increases the horror of lost souls.
Heaven for stability is called "a city that has foundations,
whose builder and maker is God." The present world is like
a tent or tabernacle set up for a time, whilst the church is pass-
ing through the wilderness: but heaven is the "city of the liv-
ing God," the place of his happy residence, the seat of his
eternal empire. The visible world, with all its perishing idols,
shall shortly fall, this beautiful scene shall be abolished: but
the supreme heaven is above this sphere of mutability, wherein
all bodies compounded of the jarring elements are continually
changing and dissolving it is truly called "a kingdom that can-
not be shaken." Briefly, the wise maker has framed it corres-
pondently to the end for which it was designed: it is the seat
of his majesty, his sacred temple wherein he diffuses the richest
beams of his goodness and glory, and his chosen servants see
and praise his adorable excellencies forever.
[2.] I will endeavour to shew, that the enjoyment of the di-
vine presence in heaven, is the supreme felicity of the saints.
To make this supernatural blessedness more easy and intelli-
gible to us, the scripture describes it by sensible representations.
For while the soul is clothed with flesh, fancy has such a do-
minion, that we conceive of nothing but by comparisons and im-
ages taken from material things. It is therefore set forth by a
marriage feast, Rev. 17. 7. to signify the joy and glory of the
saints above. But to prevent all gross conceits, we are in-
structed, that the bodies of the saints shall be spiritual, not ca-
pable of hunger or thirst, or consequently of any refreshment that
is caused by the satisfaction of those appetites. The objects of
the most noble senses, seeing and hearing, the pleasure of which
is mixed with reason, and not common to the brutes, are more
frequently made use of to reconcile the blessed and heavenly
state to the proportion of our minds. Thus sometimes the saints
above are represented on thrones, and with crowns on their
heads: sometimes clothed in white with palms in their hands:
OF HEAVEN.
443
sometimes singing songs of triumph to him that sits on the throne.
But the real felicity of the saints infinitely exceeds all those faint
metaphors. The Apostle, to whom the admirable revelation was
exhibited of the sufferings of the church, and the victorious issue
out of them in the successive ages of the world, tells us, "it
does not appear what the saints shall be in heaven. The things
that God has prepared for those that love him," are far more,
above the highest ascent of our thoughts, than the marriage feast
of a king exceeds in splendor and magnificence, the imagination
of one that has always lived in an obscure village, that never saw
any ornaments of state, nor tasted wine in his life. We can think
of those things but according to the poverty of our understand-
ings. But so much we know as is able to sweeten all the bit-
terness, and render insipid all the sweetness of this world.
CHAPTER II.
Whatever is requisite to our complete blessedness, is enjoyed in heaven.
There is an exemption from all evils. Sin and all the penal consequences,
are abolished in heaven. The concurrence of all positive excellencies is
enjoyed there. The body is revived to a glorious life. The soul lives in
communion with God. The excellence of the object, and vigor of the act-
ings upon it, the principal ingredients of happiness.
-
This will appear by considering, that whatever is requisite to
constitute the complete blessedness of man, is fully enjoyed in
the divine presence.
(1.) An exemption from all evils is the first condition of per-
fect blessedness. The sentence of the wise Solon is true,
Dicique beatus
Ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet.
No man can be called happy whilst in this valley of tears.
There are so many natural calamities, so many casual, which no
human mind can foresee or prevent, that one may be less miser-
able than another, but none perfectly happy here.
But upon
the entrance into heaven, all those evils, that by their number,
variety or weight, disquiet and oppress us here, are at an end.
Sin, of all evils the worst and most hateful, shall be abolished
and all temptations that surround us and endanger our innocence,
shall cease.
Here the best men lament the weakness of the,
flesh, and sometimes the violent assaults of spiritual enemies.
St. Paul himself breaks forth into a mournful complaint, "O
tr
444
OF HEAVEN.
wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body
of death!" And when harassed by the buffets of Satan, renews
his most earnest addresses to God to be freed from them. Here
our purity is not absolute, we must be always cleansing ourselves
from the relics of that deep defilement that cleaves to our na-
ture. Here our peace is preserved with the sword in our hand,
by a continual warfare against Satan and the world. But in
heaven no ignorance darkens the mind, no passions rebel against
the sanctified will, no inherent pollution remains.
"The church
is without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing:" and all tempta-
tions shall then cease. The tempter was cast out of heaven, and
none of his poisoned arrows can reach that purified company.
Glorious liberty! here ardently desired, but fully enjoyed by the
saints above. And as sin, so all the penal consequences of it
are quite taken away. The present life is a continual disease,
and sometimes attended with that sharp sense, that death is de-
sired as a remedy, and accepted as a benefit. And though the
saints have reviving cordials, yet their joys are mixed with sor-
rows, nay, caused by sorrows. The tears of repentance are
their sweetest refreshment. Here the living stones are cut and
wounded, and make fit by sufferings for a temple unto God in
the New Jerusalem. But as in building of Solomon's temple,
the noise of a hammer was not heard, for all the parts were
framed before with that exact design and correspondence, that
they firmly combined together; they were hewn in another
place, and nothing remained but the putting them one upon an-
other, and then as sacred they became inviolable: so God the
wise architect, having prepared the saints here by many cutting
afflictions, places them in the eternal building, where no voice of
sorrow is heard. Of the innumerable assembly above, is there
any eye that weeps, any breast that sighs, any tongue that com-
plains, or any appearance of grief? The heavenly state is called
life, as only worthy of that title. There is no infirmity of body,
no poverty, no disgrace, no treachery of friends, no persecution
of enemies. "There is no more death, nor sorrow; nor shall
there be any more pain; for former things are past away.
God will wipe away all tears from the eyes of his people."
There salvation is complete in all degrees: pure joy is the priv-
ilege of heaven, unmixed sorrows the punishment of hell.
(2.) A concurrence of all positive excellencies is requisite to
blessedness. And these are to be considered with respect to the
entire man.
1. The body shall be awaked out of its dead sleep, and quick-
ened into a glorious immortal life. The soul and body are the
essential parts of man; and though the inequality be great in
their holy operations, yet their concourse is necessary. Good
actions are designed by the counsel and resolution of the spirit,
but performed by the ministry of the flesh. Every grace ex-
OF HEAVEN.
445
presses itself in visible actions by the body. In the sorrows of
repentance it supplies tears; in religious fasts, its appetites are
restrained; in thanksgivings the tongue breaks forth into the
joyful praises of God. All our victories over sensible pleasure
and pain are obtained by the soul in conjunction with the body.
Now it is most becoming the divine goodness, not to deal so dif-
ferently, that the soul should be everlastingly happy, and the
body lost in forgetfulness; the one glorified in heaven, the other
remain in the dust. From their first setting out in the world to
the grave, they ran the same race, and shall enjoy the same re-
ward. Here the body is the consort of the soul in obedience
and sufferings, hereafter in fruition. When the crown of purity,
or palm of martyrdom shall be given by the great judge in the
view of all, they shall both partake in the honor. The Apostle
assures us, the bodies of the saints shall be revived and refined
to a spiritual and glorious perfection. "Flesh and blood," the
body with its terrene qualities, is mutable and mortal, and "can-
not inherit the kingdom of heaven;" it cannot breathe in so
pure an air. God tells Moses, "No man can see my face and
live:" the sight of the divine glory is not consistent with such
tempered frail tabernacles of flesh. Nay, the body must be
freed from the infirmities that were inseparable from Adam in
Paradise for "he was made a living soul," i. e. the soul united
to the body was the fountain of the natural sensitive life, which
was in a perpetual flux, the vital heat wasting the radical mois-
ture, from whence there was a necessity of food and sleep to re-
pair the substance and spirits, and preserve his life in vigor :
but in the divine world, the body shall be spiritual in its quali-
ties and the principle of its life; it shall be supported by the
supernatural power of the spirit, without the supplies of out-
ward nourishment, and exempted from all the low operations of
nature: therefore our Saviour tells us, "the children of the re-
surrection shall be equal to the angels," prepared for the em-
ployment and enjoyments of those blessed spirits.
And a substantial unfading glory will shine in them infinitely
above the perishing pride of this world, "and the glory of the
flesh," that is but an appearance, like the false colors painted on
the feathers of a dove, by the reflection of the light, which pre-
sently vanishes, when the posture is changed, or the light with-
drawn. Of this we have a sure pledge in the glorified body of
Christ, who is the "first fruits of them that sleep: he shall
change our vile bodies, that they may be fashioned like to his
glorious body, according to the working of his power, whereby
he is able to subdue all things to himself." What can be more
glorious, than to be conformed to the humanity of the Son of
God? This conformity shall be the work of his own hands and
when omnipotence interposes, nothing is difficult. The raising
the body to an immortal state of glory, is as easy to the divine
446
OF HEAVEN.
power, as the forming it first in the womb. As the sun labors
no more in the mines, in the forming gold and silver, and the
most precious and durable metals, than in the production of a
short-lived flower.
2. The supreme happiness of man is in the soul's communion
with God. This will appear by considering the principal ingre-
dients of happiness: they are the excellence of the object, and
vigor of the actings upon it. The life and blessedness of God
is to know and love himself according to his infinite perfections.
And it is the highest happiness of the reasonable creature, to
know and love God: for he is a spiritual, infinite, unchangeable
good, and can fully communicate all that is requisite to entire
blessedness, supply all the wants, and satisfy all the wishes of
the immortal soul. The understanding and will are our most
comprehensive faculties, the principles our most eminent opera-
tions. To know and to love, are essential to the reasonable
soul; and in directing those acts upon God, the rectitude, the
perfection and felicity of man consists. As the intellectual
creature by setting its mind and heart upon earthly things, is de-
graded into a lower order, the thoughts and desires that are spir-
itual with respect to the principle from whence they proceed,
are sensual and perishing with respect to their objects: so when
our noble faculties are exercised in their most lively and vigor-
ous perceptions upon the supreme good, man is advanced to an
equality of joy and perfection with the angels. Now in hea-
ven, God by his most evident and essential presence, excites
and draws forth all the active powers of the soul in their highest
degrees; and, such is the immensity of his perfections, fills their
utmost capacity, from whence a divine pleasure, a perpetual sat-
isfaction springs, a joy that is as unspeakable as it is eternal.
OF HEAVEN.
447
CHAPTER III.
The Understanding shall be clearly enlightened with the knowledge of
God. Here the revelation of God in his works and word is according to
our capacities. In heaven it is most glorious, and our faculties are raised
and refined to receive it. The nature of God, his decrees and counsels,
his providential dispensations are revealed to the blessed.
To unfold this more particularly.
""
[1.] The understanding shall clearly see the most excellent
objects. Now we know but in part, 1 Cor. 13. The naked
beauty of divine things is veiled, and of impossible discovery:
and by natural or accidental weakness the mind is not proportion-
able to sustain that dazzling brightness: "but when that which
is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.'
In that enlightened state, the manifestations of the objects shall
abundantly exceed the clearest revealing of them here. And the
understanding shall be prepared in proportion to take a full view
of them. Therefore the Apostle compares the several periods of
the church in respect to the degrees of knowledge, to the sever-
al ages of human life. "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I
understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a
man, I put away childish things." In children the organs, either
from the excess of moisture, or their smallness, are indisposed
for the vigorous exercise of the mind: some strictures of reason
appear, a presaging sign what will be, but mixed with much ob-
scurity. But when the organs are come to that just proportion
and temperament, the soul displays its strength and activity.
To explicate this, it is requisite to consider the expressions in
scripture, that signify the eminent degrees of knowledge in the
blessed. Our Saviour assures us, that "the pure in heart shall
see God." Sight is the most noble, extensive, and affective sense,
and therefore fit to notify the clear, sweet and satisfying intui-
tion of God in heaven. It is true, the Deity is spiritual, and in-
visible to the eye of the body, infinite and incomprehensible to
the eye of the soul; but the glorified saints so clearly understand
the divine perfections, that our present knowledge of God, com-
pared to that vision, is but as the seeing of a dark shadow in a
glass, to the immediate view of the living substance and person.
The discovery of the Deity to us in the present state, is by his
works and word: and both are imperfect, and far inferior to the
manifestation in heaven. The absolute fulness of perfection that
448
OF HEAVEN.
is inseparable from the Godhead, is inimitable by any creature;
for the perfection of any creature is limited in its kind as well as
degrees. Therefore God was pleased by variety of effects and
resemblances, to express and represent his attributes, that our
minds might ascend by those steps to contemplate those perfec-
tions that are in him eminently and beyond all comparison. The
light of heaven in all its purity and lustre, is but a shadow of his
unapproachable brightness: all the excellencies of visible things,
are but a weak representation of the glory of his attributes, like
the describing with a coal the beautiful colors of the morning:
and compared with the immensity of his perfections, are like the
describing in a sheet of paper the vast celestial spheres.
:
In his word there is a more clear and full discovery of his na-
ture and will, but according to our capacity of receiving. The
divine attributes in scripture are masked and shadowed under
sensible comparisons for no light shines into our minds here,
but through the windows of sense. The intellectual powers de-
pend, as to the first notices of things, on the lower faculties and
senses: therefore as Elisha in reviving the Shunamite's child,
contracted himself to the proportion of the child, and "put his
mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes,and his hands
upon his hands;" so God is pleased to condescend to our capaci-
ty, and to adapt the expressions of his majesty to the narrowness
of our imaginations. But in heaven the revelation of the Deity
is much more glorious: and the mind is clarified from those ter-
rene images that flow through the gross channels of the senses.
In this present state, our purest conceptions of God are mixed
with dross, and very imperfect; but there the gold shall be sep-
arated from the dross, and our conceptions be more proper and
becoming the simplicity and purity of God. Here the objects of
glory are humbled to the perception of sense: hereafter, the sen-
sible faculties shall be raised and refined, and made the subjects
of glory. Now when divine light shines with direct beams, and
the thick curtain of flesh is spiritualized and transparent, the soul
enjoys the clearest vision of God. The light of nature was so
defective as to the discovery of God's compassionate counsels to
save the lost world, and the minds of men were so darkened from
the fumes of their lust, that their light was but the hemisphere
of the night, in comparison of the revelation of the gospel as
St. Peter expresses the happy privilege of Christians, and their
consequent duty, "that they should shew forth the praises of him
who has called them out of darkness into his marvellous light.”
And the glorious gospel, compared to the revelation of God in
heaven, is but as the twilight of the morning, wherein the light
of the day is chequered with the shadows of the night, to the sun
in its full lustre. In heaven we shall "
In heaven we shall "see God face to face ;"
which signifies the clearest manifestation of his glory, and of his
favor to the blessed for the face is the throne of majesty and
OF HEAVEN.
449
man
beauty, and the crystal wherein the affections are conspicuous.
Accordingly, when Moses prayed, "I beseech thee shew me thy
glory;" God answered him, it was impossible, "for no
could see his face and live." And the form of divine blessing to
the people of Israel was, "The Lord make his face to shine up-
on thee, and be gracious to thee." Whether the immediate es-
sence of God can be seen by the intellectual creature, is a ques-
tion; but we are sure in the heaven of presence, God exhibits
himself to the blessed in a most glorious manner: for according
to the degrees of excellency in the work, are the impressions and
discoveries of the cause. Now all gross material things in the
low order of nature, are but weak resultances from his perfec-
tions, in comparison of their glorious effects in the divine world.
The glories of the place, and of the inhabitants the angels and
saints, are the most noble effects and expressions of the divine at-
tributes. But in a transcendant manner God exhibits himself in
the glorified Mediator. He is styled "the brightness of his Fa-
ther's glory, and the express image of his person;" to signify
that God, in the person of the incarnate Mediator, is so fully rep-
resented to us, that in him we have a view of God's unchangable
perfections. This appears by the following words, "that having
purged us from our sins, he sat down on the majesty on high:
for they respect the Son of God as united to the human nature,
in which he performed the office of the priesthood, and took pos-
session of his kingdom. During his humble state, though dark-
ened with many afflicting circumstances, the divine virtues, wis-
dom, goodness, holiness, power, were so visible in his life, reve-
lations, and miraculous works, that when Philip with that arden-
cy of affection desired the sight of his Father, the only consum-
mate blessedness, "Shew us the Father, and it suffices;" he told
him, he "that hath seen me, hath seen the Father." But how
brightly do they appear in his exaltation? "We shall see him
as he is," in the majesty and glory of the Son of God. The
Apostle says, "We shall know as we are known :" this we are
not to understand according to the exactness of the expression;
for the sun may be as well included in a spark of fire, as God
may be comprehended by our finite faculties. Beyond the full-
est discoveries we can receive of the Deity, there remains an en-
tire infinity of perfections, not to be known by the most intelli-
gent spirits but as we are known, is a note of similitude, not of
equality. The light of a candle as truly shines as the light of the
sun, but not with that extent and splendor. We shall have such
a perfect knowledge of God, as our minds can receive, and our
hearts desire.
We shall then see what we now believe concerning the glori-
ous nature of God, his deerees and counsels, his providence and
dispensations. The sublimest doctrine of the christian religion,
above the disquisition and reach of reason, is that of the sacred
VOL. I.
57
450
OF HEAVEN.
Trinity, upon which the whole economy of the gospel depends.
In assenting to this, faith bows the head and adores. But such
is the pride of the carnal mind, that it disdains to stoop to divine
revelation: and the seeming wise philosophers despised the
primitive christians as captives of a blind belief. But this foul
reproach was as unjust as many others wherewith they designed
to disgrace Christianity; for the humility of faith does not extin-
guish or darken the light of reason, but revives and increases it.
What is more suitable to uncorrupt reason, than to believe the
revelation God affords of his own nature, who cannot deceive us?
In the state above, where reason is rectified and enlarged, we
shall understand that from eternity God was sole existing, but
not solitary; that the Godhead is not confused in unity, nor divi-
ded in number; that there is a priority of order, yet no superi-
ority among the sacred persons, but they are all equally possessed
of the same divine excellencies, and the same divine empire, and
are the object of the same adoration. Our Saviour tells his dis-
ciples, "In that day ye shall know that I am in the Father," that
is, by unity of essence, and as naturally and necessarily God as
the Father. This promise immediately refers to the time of pour-
ing forth the Holy Ghost upon them after the resurrection of our
Saviour, but shall be fully accomplished in heaven.
All things of a supernatural order shall be revealed. The
"great mystery of godliness, God manifest in the flesh," the
union of the high perfections of the divine nature with the inno-
cent imperfections of the human nature, the contrivance of our
redemption, wherein there is an harmonious concurrence and
concord of the principle attributes of the Deity that seemed irre-
concilable; that product of the divine wisdom that is so adored
by the angels, that astonishes and saves us, shall be unfolded.
The divine counsels in governing the world, the designs, the
ways, the orders and operations of God's providence shall be con-
spicuous. In some dispensations of God, we discern the eye in
the top of his sceptre : the wisdom, the rectitude, the equity of
his providence, is so visible in the defence of the innocent, and
his justice and power in the punishment of the guilty, that it may
convince the atheists who deny a providence, and cause all sin-
cere believers to admire and reverence it. But there are other
dispensations, the immediate reasons of which are so concealed
in the bosom of God, that only the Lamb, with whose blood the
elect to glory are written in the book of life, can reveal: why
the light of the gospel was never visible to so many kingdoms;
why many are called, and few chosen ;" the unsearchable ways,
and incomprehensible judgments of God, which St. Paul in an
extasy admires, which it is not lawful to inquire into here, we
shall then understand in such a manner, that light itself is not
more clear. How often are the people of God here in miserable
perplexities? and say with the Prophet, "Verily thou art a God
(C
OF HEAVEN.
451
It is true, a
that hidest thyself, O God of Israel the Saviour !"
steadfast faith in the providence of God, that all that he does, and
all that he permits and disposes is best, will quiet their passions,
and change the tempestuous ocean into the pacific sea but when
they are admitted into the council of state above, and see the im-
mediate reasons of his decrees, what a heavenly wonder, what an
exquisite pleasure will fill their minds? When the original foun-
tains of wisdom, as clear as deep, shall be opened, what sweet
satisfaction will be shed abroad in their spirits? They will see
the beauty of providence in disposing temporal evils in order to
their eternal felicity: that as in a curious picture the darkest
tinctures are so disposed, as to give light and grace to orient
colors; so all the afflictions of this state were but shadows or
foils, to make their faith, and love, and patience more resplen-
dent, and their reward more excellent. What our Saviour said
to Peter, is applicable to the impenetrable dispensations of Prov-
idence to us in our mortal state: "What I do, thou knowest not
now, but shall know hereafter." Then the arcana imperii, the
secrets of his counsels shall be unsealed, and we shall be able to
expound the perplexing riddle, how "out of the eater came meat,
and out of the strong came sweetness:" we shall understand that
his over-ruling providence is most eminently glorified in extract-
ing good out of evil; for we shall know as we are known.
CHAPTER IV.
The blessed effect of the vision of God in the saints. It is productive and
conservative of his glorious likeness. It affects them with the most hum-
ble veneration of God's excellencies. It inflames them with the most
ardent love of God, and of our Saviour.
blessed effects of the vision of God in hea-
Our Saviour tells us,
I will consider the
ven upon the saints. Our Saviour tells us, "this is life eternal,
to know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast
sent." The beginning and introduction of our felicity, is by a lively
faith here, the consummation of it is by present sight in heaven.
1. From the vision of his glory there will be a resultance of
his likeness impressed on us. We shall be like him, for we shall
see him as he is. All the perfection and happiness of the saints.
is comprised in that promise. The sun, when the sky is clear
and serene, forms its image on a cloud tempered to receive it,
with that orient brightness, that the eye cannot distinguish be-
tween the copy and the original. Thus the uncreated sun by
452
OF HEAVEN.
powerful emanations transforms the soul into its likeness, in that
divine degree of holiness and felicity, as gloriously resembles
God. Moses by conversing with God in the mount, and seeing
his back parts, returned to the Israelites with such a radiancy in
his face, that they could not look on it without a veil.
What an
impression of glory is in the saints, who see his perfection in
their infinite lustre? It is the privilege of christians in this life,
above the church under the law; they behold in the gospel as in
a glass, the glory of the Lord, and are changed into the same
image, from glory to glory: they become more and more holy
and heavenly, more purified and adorned with his virtues and
graces. Now if the vision of Christ here in a glass, an eclips-
ing medium, be so influxive upon believers, what an illustrious
and infallible efficacy has the immediate, clear, and permanent
view of his glory upon the saints in heaven? That sight is pro-
ductive and conservative of his image in its purity and perfec-
tion forever.
2. The divine presence affects the saints with the most hum-
ble reverence and solemn veneration of God. This is an eter-
nal respect due from the intellectual creature to the creator,
upon the account of his infinite and incommunicable excellen-
cies. He is distinguished not only from idols, but from creatures
of the highest order, by his essential, supreme and singular name,
I AM. Every kind of being, every spark of life, every degree
of perfection is from his efficiency, and depends entirely upon
his supporting power. The most eminent qualities of the crea-
tures are but in show and appearance, compared with the reality
and stability of his glorious nature. In the scripture, wisdom,
holiness, goodness, power, truth, immortality, are attributed to
God, with the exclusion of all creatures from those prerogatives;
they being his essential, infinite, and incomparable perfections.
They are separable qualities in the creatures, like the gilding
and enameling of baser metal; but in the Deity, they are like
substantial massy gold. There is a vast distance between cre-
ated beings; but the distance between a fly, or a worm, and an
angel, is nothing to the distance between an archangel and God,
there being no comparison between finite and infinite. All crea-
tures equally vanish, and disappear as nothing, compared to the
glorious creator. As if one from the region of the stars should
look down upon the earth, the mountains and hills with the
valleys would appear one flat surface, an equal plain, the height
and the lowness of the several parts being indiscernible at that
immense distance.
Now in heaven the Divine Majesty is most visible, and most
awful and adorable: the sublimest spirits "cover their faces"
before his glorious brightness. The Prophet Isaiah had a rep-
resentation of heaven: "I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne
high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple. About it
OF HEAVEN.
453
stood the Seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he
covered his face, with twain he covered his feet, with twain he
did fly. And one cried to another, and said, Holy, holy, holy,
Lord of Hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory." They
highly honor him, by the reflection of his separate and peerless
excellencies, his almighty power, his infinite supremacy, and
eternal empire, in their concerts of praise.
3. In heaven the saints as perfectly love God, as they know
him. This is the principal duty of angels and men to the bless-
ed Creator, for his admirable perfections, and his excellent bene-
fits. The evidence of it is so entire, that the reasonable mind
cannot suspend its assent, for goodness and beauty, the fruit
and the flower of amiable things, do so recommend them to the
understanding and will, that they powerfully allure and engage
the affections. Now these are in God in unspeakable degrees
of eminence. The Prophet breaks out in a rapture, "How
great is his goodness! how great is his beauty !"
It was a precept of the ceremonial law, that the firstlings of
the flock, and the first and best fruits of the earth should be of-
fered to God: not as if the first that opened the belly was more
valuable in his account than the last, or the most early fruits in
the spring more pleasing to him than the later in the autumn; but
it was instructive, that our love, the "first-born of the soul, and
the beginning of its strength," should be consecrated to God.
The love of God is the essential character of a saint, that dis-
tinguishes him from the unregenerate. Indeed, it is strange that
God, who is infinitely lovely, and infinitely liberal and benefi-
cent, should not prevail on the hearts of all men; but if we
consider the degeneracy of mankind, how their minds are de-
praved and deceived, and their affections are vitiated, the won-
der will cease. Carnal men have not due conceptions of God,
and will not attentively observe his amiable perfections. St.
John tells us, He that loveth not, doth not know God. Know-
ledge is the leading principle in the operations of the soul:
there must be a heavenly eye to discover the heavenly beauty,
before there can be love of it. Now men are in ignorant dark-
ness, and are defiled in flesh and spirit, and therefore cannot
love God, who is glorious in holiness. Without resemblance,
there can be no affectionate union, which is the essence of love.
The contrariety of dispositions infers a contrariety of affections.
The scripture expresses this in dreadful colors: "The carnal
mind is enmity against God: the friendship of this world is en-
mity with God:" that is, pride, and covetousness, and sensuali-
ty, which are the lusts of the carnal mind, and are terminated
upon worldly things, are inconsistent with the love of God.
The justice of God is terrible to the consciences, and his holi-
ness odious to the affections of the unrenewed. Till by divine
grace the understanding is enlightened and purified, to have right
454
OF HEAVEN.
apprehensions of God; till the will and affections are cleansed
and changed; till there be a resemblance of God's holy nature,
and a conformity to his holy laws, they are not capable of de-
lightful adhering to him; which is the internal, essential proper-
ty of love.
But those who are partakers of the divine nature, the holy
and heavenly, "taste and see how good the Lord is :" and ac-
cording to the illustrations of the mind, such are the impressions
upon the heart; the love of God in their breasts here is like
smoking flax, but in heaven it is a triumphant flame. God is
the first fair, the original of all amiable excellencies, in whom
they shine in their unstained lustre and perfection. When het
fully reveals himself, and displays the richest beams of his love
and glory, how transporting and endearing is that sight? Our
affections that are now scattered on many things, wherein some
faint reflections of his goodness appear, shall then be united in
one full current to him, "who is all in all." In heaven, the im-
mense treasures of his grace are revealed: that when man for
his rebellious sin was justly expelled from Paradise, and under
the sentence of eternal death, God should not only pardon, but
prefer us to the dignity of his children, and prepare such a glory
for us, and us for such a glory; this will inspire the saints with
such ardent affections, that will make them equal to the angels,
those pure and everlasting flames of love to God.
In heaven we shall be with "Jesus, the mediator of the new
covenant, who is seated at the right hand of God." And how
admirable will he appear to the sense and soul of every glorified
saint? For we shall see the king in his beauty. When our
Saviour was upon the holy mount, and one vanishing beam of
glory appeared in his transfiguration, Peter was so transported at
the sight, that he forgot the world and himself: how ravishing
then will the sight of him in his triumphant majesty be, when
we shall be transfigured ourselves? Now while believers are in
the shadows of the earthly state, they love their unseen Saviour
with such intense degrees of affection, as deface all the washy
colors, all the vain loves of things in this world; but when they
are admitted into his shining presence, and see him in the day of
celestial glory, with what an extasy of affection will they be
transported?
We shall then feel the endearing obligations our Saviour hast
laid upon us, who ransomed us with so rich a price, and purchas-
ed for us such an unvaluable inheritance for in proportion as
we shall understand his greatness in himself, we shall his good-
ness to us. The eternal Son of God descended from the hea-
ven of heavens to our lowly earth; and, which is more, from
the majesty wherein he there reigned, and was visible to the an-
gels: he became man that he might die, to redeem us from the
most woful captivity, from death, and the sting of death, sin, and
OF HEAVEN.
455
the strength of sin, the law; and obtain a blessed life and im-
mortality for us. O unexampled love! Greater love hath no
man than this, to lay down his life for his friend: and what is
the life of a sinful man, a vanishing vapor, a life mixed with
troubles and vexation? And to lay down this for a friend de-
servedly dear, is the highest expression of human love but for
the Son of God to lay down his life, a life without sin, and with-
out end, (for immortality was a privilege due to his innocence)
and for enemies, for the worst enemies, rebels by revolture from
obedience to their creator and king, is a love truly divine, and
infinitely surpassing not only the affections, but the understand-
ing and knowledge of all creatures, Ephes. 3. Briefly; he
gave his life for us, and gives himself to us, the most excellent
testimonies of love that we can receive from love itself; and
we shall love him with all the strength of our glorified spirits.
CHAPTER V..
Union with God by knowledge and love, causes the perfection and felicity of
the saints. That union briefly unfolded. The pleasure that springs from
knowledge. In heaven, the knowledge of the saints incomparably excels
the knowledge acquired here. The felicity that flows from the enjoyment
of God, that fully satisfies the love of the saints. The blessed communion
between the saints and Christ in heaven. The love of the saints is most
fully pleased in the glory of God.
Union with God by knowledge and love, accomplishes the
perfection and happiness of the saints. The most pernicious ef-
fect of sin is the separation of the soul from God; and the res-
toral of us to happiness, is by reunion with him. This we ob-
tain by Christ, who is Emanuel in his nature, and by office; who
took our flesh, which he offered as a sacrifice to God to atone
his displeasure, and gives "his spirit to dwell in us," as a per-
manent active principle, by whose special operation faith is pro-
duced in our hearts; that is, such a belief of his love in redeem-
ing us, as inspires us with a sincere and superlative love to him:
and by these vital bands we are united to him, and, as his true
members, live the same life with him in grace and glory.
Now in heaven, our union with God is more near and noble,
more intimate and influential, more inseparable and eternal. It
is observable in natural causalities, that what is of a more re-
fined and purer nature, is more active and penetrating, and more
456
OF HEAVEN.
closely unites with other things, than what is more gross and
material. Light, which is the purest quality in the world, actu-
ates all colors, and makes them visible, and actuates the eye,
and conveys the lively image of the object with shining evidence
into it. The sun shoots its invisible virtue into the deepest
mines. Fire is more subtile and pure than water, and will pierce
into solid metals, which the water cannot soak into. The glow-
ing iron seems to be all fire. Now God is the purest spirit, and
of infinite energy, and can unite himself to our spirits more in-
timately than the closest union between any creatures in the
world. He unites himself to the understanding, by an immedi-
ate irradiation and discovery of his glorious excellencies; "In
thy light," saith the Psalmist, "we shall see light." He unites
himself to the will, by the infusion of his love, and by that draw-
ing forth our love to him. This union is coraplete in heaven,
and most communicative of the divine influences to the saints;
and consequently their conformity and fruition of God, is in the
highest degrees that created spirits are capable of. This is the
most desirable and perfect state of reasonable creatures; for God
is the overflowing fountain of felicity, the only stable centre of
the soul, wherein it reposes itself forever. Accordingly the
Psalmist speaks, "Return to thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord
hath dealt bountifully with thee.'
""
When the soul opens its eyes to the clear discoveries of the
first truth, in which is no shadow of error, and its breast to the
dear and intimate embraces of the supreme good, in which is no
mixture of evil, and beyond which nothing remains to be
known, nothing to be enjoyed, what a deluge of the purest and
sweetest pleasure will overthrow it? We cannot ascend in our
thoughts so high, as to conceive the excess of joy that attends
those operations of the glorified soul upon its proper object.
But something we may conjecture.
Those who are possessed with a noble passion for knowledge,
how do they despise all lower pleasures in comparison of it?
How do they forget themselves, neglect the body, and retire into
the mind, the highest part of man, and nearest to God? The
bare apprehension of such things that by their internal nature
have no attractive influence upon the affections, is pleasant to
the understanding. As the appearance of light, though not at-
tended with any other visible beauties, refreshes the eye after
long darkness: so the clear discovery of truths, how abstract so-
ever, that were before unknown, is grateful to the intellective
faculty. Thus some have been strangely transported with the
pleasure of a mathematical demonstration, when the evidence,
not the importance, of the thing was so ravishing; for what is
more dry and barren of delight than the speculation of figures
and numbers? Solon when near his end, and some of his friends
that visited him were speaking softly of a point of philosophy,
OF HEAVEN.
457
by that sound of wisdom was awakened from the sleep of death
that was just seizing on him; and opening his eyes, raising his
head to give attention, being asked the reason of it, answered,*
"That when I understand what you are discoursing of, I may
die." Such was his delight in knowledge, that a little of it made
his agony insensible.
But here are many imperfections that lessen this intellectual
pleasure, which shall cease in heaven. Here the acquisition of
knowledge is often with the expense of health: the flower of
the spirits, necessary for natural operations, is wasted by intense
thoughts. How often are the learned sickly? As the flint when
it is struck, gives not a spark without consuming itself; so knowl-
edge is obtained by studies that waste our faint sensitive facul-
ties. But then our knowledge shall be a free emanation from
the spring of truth, without our labor and pains. Here we learn
by circuit, and discern by comparing things; ignorant darkness
is dispelled by gradual succession of light: but then perfect
knowledge shall be infused in a moment. Here, after all our la-
bor and toil, how little knowledge do we gain? Every question
is a labyrinth, out of which the nimblest and most searching
minds cannot extricate themselves. How many specious errors
impose upon our understandings? We look on things by false
lights, through deceiving spectacles: but then our knowledge
shall be certain and complete. There is no forbidden tree in
the celestial Paradise, as no inordinate affection. But suppose
that all things in the compass of the world were known, yet still
there would be emptiness and anguish in the mind: for the most
comprehensive knowledge of things that are insufficient to make
us happy, cannot afford true satisfaction. But then we shall see
God in all his excellencies, the supreme object and end, the only
felicity of the soul. How will the sight of his glorious perfec-
tions in the first moment quench our extreme thirst, and fill us
with joy and admiration! It is not as the naked conception of
treasures, that only makes rich in idea but that divine sight
gives a real interest in him. The angels are so ravished with
the beauties and wonders of his face, that they never divert a
moment from the contemplation of it.
[2.] The pure love of the saints to God, is fully satisfied in
the possession and enjoyment of him, and consequently the
greatest delight and complacency is shed abroad in their hearts.
Love considered as an affection of friendship, is always attended
with two desires; to be assured of reciprocal love, and to enjoy
the conversation of the person beloved, the testimony of his es-
teem and good will. This kind of † affection seems to be incon-
t
* Ut cum istud quicquid est de quo disputatis percepero, moriar. Val.
Max.
† Aristotle.
VOL. I.
58
458
OF HEAVEN.
sistent with that infinite distance that is between God and the
creature. But though it is disproportionable to the divine ma-
jesty, it is proportionable to his goodness. Accordingly our
Saviour promises, "He that loves me, shall be loved of my
father, and I will love him, and manifest myself unto him :" and
to confirm our belief of this astonishing condescension, repeats
it, "If a man love me, my Father will love him, and we will
come to him, and make our abode with him." In the present
state, the signs of God's special favor are exhibited to his friends.
Now he bestows on them the honor of being his sons, the graces
and comforts of his spirit, precious earnest of his love," and
seal of their redemption." But in eminency of degrees, the
emanations of his love, and the effects of his beneficence, are
incomparably more glorious in heaven. Here the saints are
adopted, there crowned: there he opens all the bright treasures
of his wisdom, the riches of his goodness, the beauties of holiness,
the glories of his power, and by the intimate application of his
presence makes his love most sensible to them. Infinite good-
ness excites and draws forth all the powers of the soul, and fills
the utmost capacity and expansion of the spirit: from hence per-
petual pleasure and satisfaction springs. O the pure delights be-
tween God and glorified souls! God looks on them with an en-
gaged eye, as his own by many dear titles, and is ravished with
"As the
the reflex of his own excellencies shining in them.
bridegroom rejoices over the bride (it is the language of divine
love) so their God rejoices over them. The Lord thy God in
the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over
thee with joy: he will rest in his loves; he will rejoice over
thee with singing." He is infinitely delighted in the communi-
cation of his goodness to them. And what a blessed rest do
they find in the complete fruition of his goodness! All their de-
sires quietly expire in his bosom. What triumphs of joy follow!
Can we frame a fuller conception of happiness, than to be per-
fectly loved by the best and most blessed being, and perfectly to
love him, and to partake of the richest emanations of his lov-
ing-kindness, that is far more valuable and desirable than life
itself?
How precious and joyful will the presence of Christ be to the
saints! it was his prayer on earth "Father, I will that they also
whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that they
may behold my glory." When the saints are received into the
everlasting kingdom, the first object that draws their admiring
regards, is Christ on the throne. Inestimable felicity! whether
we consider him as the Son of God, in whose conspicuous coun-
tenance all the glory of his Father shines; or as the Saviour of
men, and the head of the elect, upon a double account: partly,
that "he that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his blood,"
after suffering all indignities and cruelties for our sake, has re-
OF HEAVEN.
459
ceived the reward of his meritorious sufferings, the triumph of
his victory, being "glorified with the Father, with the glory he
had before the world was;" and partly, because every member
shall be conformed to him in glory. The sight of the face of
Moses when radiant, had no transforming efficacy, for the light
of it was not in him as its spring, but by derivation. But the
Son of God is light essentially, and the sight of his glory will
transform us into his likeness. And how dear and joyful is the
presence of the saints to Christ? "He then sees of the travail
of his soul, the fruit of his sharp sufferings and bleeding love, and
is satisfied." How delightful is it to him to see all his spiritual
progeny safely brought to heaven, and made partakers of his glo-
ry and joy in his everlasting kingdom? For according to the ex-
tent of the object, and dearness of the affection, joy rises. He
will then present them to his father with infinite complacency;
"Behold here am I, and the children whom thou hast given
me."
66
The dearest affections of Christ and the saints in heaven, are
mutual and reflexive. In the sacred song, the expressions of
love, desire and joy, borrowed from the espousals of Solomon
and his beloved wife, are as it were characters in the dark, to be
understood in a spiritual sense, of the mystical marriage of
Christ and the church. What endearing intercourse is there
between the most perfect lover, and his spouse, inspired with
the same pure flame? Here amiable perfections attract his eye
and heart: Thou art all fair my love, there is no spot in thee,
Cant. 7. His propriety in the church is his unvaluable treasure:
My vineyard which is mine, is ever before me." He repeats
the word mine, in the sweetest and most tender manner. And
the church, with the same harmonious affections, speaks of Christ.
She contemplates in a soft extasy his ever-satisfying beauty. My
beloved is the chiefest of ten thousand, he is altogether lovely,
Cant. 10. 16. She breaks forth in triumph, My beloved is mine,
and I am his, Cant. 6. By all their expressions of joyful love.
and union, we may ascend in our thoughts, what are the joys of
heaven, where the communion of Christ and the church is entire
and uninterrupted forever. If faith and love of our unseen Sa-
viour produce "a joy unspeakable and glorious," as if believers
were wrapt up to Paradise, or Paradise descended into them,
what will the sight and fruition of him? There is as great a dif-
ference in degrees between the joy that flows from the assur-
ance and application of faith, and the joy from vision and full
possession, as between the impression of joy the forerunner of
Christ felt, when he sprang in the womb at the coming of our
Saviour; and his ravishing joy, when he saw Christ, and point-
ed him out to his disciples, " Behold the Lamb of God, that takes
away the sins of the world."
[3.] The supreme joy of the saints is for the felicity and glory
460
OF HEAVEN.
of God himself. For as the holy soul feels no more powerful
motive to love God, than because he is most worthy of it, as he
is God, a being of infinite excellencies, and therefore to be loved
above the dearest persons and things, even itself; so the highest
joy it partakes of is from this consideration, that God is infinitely
blessed and glorious. For in this the supreme desire of love is
accomplished, that the most beloved object is perfectly honored
and pleased. In heaven the love of the saints to God is in its
highest perfection, and they see his glory in the most perfect man-
ner, which causes a transcendant joy to them. And this is one
reason why the saints, though shining with unequal degrees of
glory, are equally content. For their most ardent love being set
on God, that he is pleased to glorify himself by such various com-
munications of his goodness, is full satisfaction to their desires.
Besides, in those different degrees of glory, every one is so con-
tent with his own,* that there is no possible desire of being but
what he is.
CHAPTER VI.
The communion of the angels and saints in heaven affords the purest pleasure.
Love unites them. The allays of love cease there. As love is enlarged in
its object and degrees, such is the delight that results from it. The joy of
heaven is without defect or end. The productive causes of it are always
equal. The face of God always shines there, and the contemplation of it
is fixed. The constant enjoyment of God in heaven does not lessen the de-
light of the saints. The reasons why the fruition of sensible things with-
out change is tedious. All those causes of dissatisfaction cease in heaven.
The saints have as lively a perception of their happiness forever, as in
the beginning of it.
In heaven "the innumerable company of angels, and the gen-
eral assembly of the church of the first born," as they receive
happiness from the sight of God, so they communicate the purest
pleasure to one another. An unfeigned ardent affection unites
that pure society. Our love is now kindled, either from a rela-
tion in nature, or a civil account, or some visible excellencies that
render a person worthy of our choice and friendship: but in heav-
en the reasons are greater, and the degrees of love incomparably
more fervent. All carnal alliances and respects cease in that su-
pernatural state. The Apostle tells us, "If I have known Christ
*Sic itaq; habebit donum aliud alio minus, ut hic quoq; donum habeat, ne
velit amplius. Aug.
OF HEAVEN.
461
after the flesh, I know him so no more." By the resurrection
and ascension of Christ he was transported into another world,
and had communion with him as a heavenly king, without low
regards to the temporal privilege of conversing with him on
earth. The spiritual relation is more near and permanent than
the strictest band of nature. The saints have all relation to the
same heavenly father, and to Jesus Christ the prince of peace, and
head of that happy fraternity. The principle motives of love here,
are the inherent excellencies of a person. Wisdom, holiness,
goodness, fidelity are mighty attractives, and produce a more
worthy affection, a more intimate confederacy of souls, than pro-
pinquity in nature, or any carnal respects. Virtue is amiable in
an old person, though wrinkled and deformed: vice is hateful in
a young person, though beautiful. There are clearer eyes than
those of flesh, a purer light than what is sensible, a diviner beau-
ty than what is corporeal, and a nobler love than what is sensual.
David declares that all his delight was in the excellent.
there are allays of this spiritual love here. For,
But
1. There are relics of frailty in the best men on earth, some
blemishes that render them less amiable when discovered. Here
their graces are mixed with infirmities, and but ascending to glo-
ry. Accordingly our love to them must be regular, and serene,
not clouded with error, mistaking defects for amiable qualities.
But in heaven, the image of God is complete by the union of all
the glorious virtues requisite to its perfection. Every saint
there exactly agrees with the first exemplar, a divine beauty
shines in them ever durable, a beauty that darts no contagious
fire, that is inviolable and can suffer no injury. The Apostle
tells us, "The church shall be glorious in holiness, without spot
or wrinkle," or any thing that may cast an aspect of deformity
upon it.
2. In the present state the least part of the saints worth is vis-
ible. As the earth is fruitful in plants and flowers, but its riches
are in mines of precious metals, and the veins of marble hidden.
in its bosom. True grace appears in sensible actions, "but its
glory is within." *The sincerity of aims, the purity of affections,
the impresses of the spirit on the heart, the interior beauties of
holiness, are only seen by God. Besides, such is the humility
of eminent saints, that the more they abound in spiritual treas-
ures, the less they shew. As the heavenly bodies, when in near-
est conjunction with the sun, and fullest of light, make the least.
appearance to our sight. But all their excellencies shall then be
in view, "the glory of God shall be revealed in them.” And
how attractive is the divine likeness to a holy eye? How will it
ravish the saints to behold an immortal loveliness shining in one
*O si animum boni viri liceret inspicere, ex magnifico placidoq; fulgentem!
nonne veluti numinis occursu obstupefacti essemus? Senec.
462
OF HEAVEN.
another? Their love is reciprocal, proportionable to the cause
of it.
An equal, constant flame is preserved by pure materials.
Every one is perfectly amiable, and perfectly enamoured with
all. How happy is that state of love? The Psalmist breaks out
in a rapture, “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for breth-
ren to dwell together in unity!" Love is the beauty and strength
of societies, the pleasure of life. How excellent is the joy of
the blessed, when the prayer of Christ shall be accomplished,
that they all may be "one; as thou Father art in me, and I in
thee, that they also may be one in us." God is absolutely one in
his glorious nature and will, and therefore unalterably happy :
and their inviolable union in love is a ray of the essential unity
between the sacred persons. There are no divisions of heart
and tongues, as in this Babel; but the most perfect and sweetest
concord, an eternal agreement in tempers and inclinations. There
are no envious comparisons; for love that affectively transforms
one into another, causes the glory of every saint to redound to
the joy of all. Every one takes his share in the felicity of all,
and adds to it. Such is the power of that celestial fire wherein
they all burn, that it melts and mixes souls in such an entire union,
that by complacence, and an intimate joy, the blessedness of all
is, as it were, proper to every one; as if every one were placed
in the hearts of all, and all in the heart of every one. If in the
church of the first-born christians in the earthly Jerusalem, the
band of charity was so strict, that it is said, the "multitude of
believers were of one heart, and one soul;" how much more in-
timate and inseparable is the union of the saints in Jerusalem
above, where every one loves another as himself? It is recorded
of Alexander, that entering with Hephestion, his favorite, into
the pavilion of the mother of Darius, then his prisoner, she bow-
ed to the favorite, as having a greater appearance of majesty,
thinking him to be Alexander: but advised of her error, she
humbly begged his pardon. To whom the generous king repli-
ed, "You did not err, mother, this is also Alexander*." Such
was their affection, that whoever was taken of them, the other
was taken in him; the less ascending in the greater, without de-
grading the greater in the less. This is a copy of the holy love
of the blessed; but with the same difference, as between the
description of a star with a coal, and its beauty in its proper
aspect. And where all is love, all is delight. The act itself is
its own reward. As that benign and pleasant affection is enlarg-
ed, with respect to the object, and its degrees, such is the com-
placence and delight that results from it. In that blessed society
there is a constant receiving and returning of love and joy. And
that double exercise of the saints, in the perfect circle of love, is
like the pleasant labor of the bees, who all the day are flying to
*Non errasti, Mater, nam hic Alexander est. Curt. 1. 3.
OF HEAVEN.
463
+
the gardens, and returning to their hives, and all their art is in
extracting the purest spirits from fragrant flowers, and making
sweet honey. O how do they rejoice and triumph in the happi-
ness of one another? With what an unimaginable tenderness do
they embrace? What reciprocations of endearments are between
them? O their ravishing conversation, and sweet intercourse!
for their presence together in heaven is not a silent show. In
the transfiguration, Moses and Elias talked with Christ: we may
understand a little of it, by the sensible complacence that is
among sincere friends here. In pure amity there is a three-fold
union: a union of resemblance, that is the principle of it; like-
ness causes love: a union of affection, that is its essence; it is
said of Jonathan, that incomparable friend, "his soul was knit
with the soul of David, and he loved him as his own soul :” the
union of conversation, that is requisite to the satisfaction of love.
What an entertainment of love and joy is there in the presence
and discourses of dear friends! their mutual aspects, like a chain
composed of spirits luminous and active, draw and fasten their
souls to one another: the felicity of love consists in their con-
versation. Now in heaven, whatever is pleasant in friendship is
in perfection; and whatever is distasteful by men's folly and
weakness is abolished. With what excellent discourses do they
entertain one another? If David felt such inward pleasure from
the sense of God's favors, that he could not restrain the expres-
sion of it, but invites the saints, "Come and hear, all ye that
fear the Lord, and I will tell you what he has done for my soul :"
certainly in heaven, the blessed with overflowing affections re-
count the divine benefits; the admirable methods, whereby the
life of grace was begun, preserved and carried on amidst tempta-
tions; the continual succession of mercies in the time of their
hopes, and the consummation of all in the time of their enjoy-
ment. How joyfully do they concur in their thanksgivings to
God for the goodness of creation; in making them reasonable
creatures, capable to know, love and enjoy him, when they
might have been of the lowest order in the whole spheres of be-
ing; for his compassionate care and providence over them in this
world, but especially for his sovereign and singular mercy in
electing them to be vessels of honor; for his powerful grace, in
rescuing them from the cruel and ignominious bondage of sin;
for his most free love, that justified them from all their guilt by
the death of his only son, and glorified them with himself. They
are never weary in this delightful exercise, but continually bless
him for his "mercy that endures forever." We may judge by
the saints here, when they are in a fit disposition to praise God,
what fervors they feel in their united praises of him in heaven.
The Psalmist in an extasy calls to all the parts of the world to
join with him: "The Lord reigns, let the heavens rejoice, and
the earth be glad; let the sea roar, let the fields be joyful, and
464
OF HEAVEN.
all that dwell therein." He desires that nature should be eleva-
ted above itself, that the dead parts be inspired with life, the
insensible feel motions of joy, and those that want a voice break
forth in praises, to adorn the divine triumph. With what life
and alacrity will the saints in their blessed communion, celebrate
the object of their love and praises? The Seraphim about the
throne cried to one another, to express their zeal and joy, in
celebrating his eternal purity and power, and the glory of his
goodness. O the unspeakable pleasure of this concert! when
every soul is harmonious, and contributes his part to the full mu-
sic of heaven. O could we hear but some echo of those songs
wherewith the heaven of heavens resounds, some remains of
those voices wherewith the saints above triumph in the praises,
in the solemn adoration of the king of spirits, how would it in-
flame our desires to be joined with them? "Blessed are those
that are in thy house, they always praise thee.”
[3.] The fulness of joy in heaven is everlasting, without de-
fect, and without end.
(1.) It is undecaying, the productive causes are conservative
of it, being always equal. Those are the beatific object, and the
continual fruition of it. Whilst we are here below, the sun of
righteousness, as to our perception and sense, has ascensions
and declinations, accesses and recesses. And our earth is not so
purified, but some vapors arise that intercept his cheerful re-
freshing light. From hence there are alternate successions of
spiritual comforts and sorrows, of doubts and filial confidence in
the saints. It is a rare favor of heaven, when a humble believer
in his whole course is so circumspect, as not to provoke God to
appear displeased against him: when a christian (as those tute-
lar angels spoken of in the gospel) always beholds the face of his
heavenly Father, and converses with him with a holy liberty.
And what a torment the "hiding God's face" is to a deserted
soul only they know who feel it. External troubles are many
times attended with more consolations to the spirit, than afflic-
tions to sense; but to love God with a transcendent affection,
and to fear he is our enemy, no punishment exceeds, or is equal
to it.
As his loving kindness in their esteem is better than life,
so his displeasure is worse than death. How do they wrestle
with God by prayers and tears, and offer, as it were, a holy
violence to the King of heaven, to recover their first serenity of
mind, the lost peace of heart? how passionately dothey cry out
with Job in the book of his patience, O that I were as in months
past as in the days when God preserved me; when his candle
shined upon my head, when by his light I walked through Dark-
ness; as I was in the days of my youth, when the secret of God
was upon my tabernacle ! Job. 29. 2, 3. And sometimes God de-
lays the revealing himself even to his dearest children; not that
he does not see their necessities, and hear their prayers, or is so
OF HEAVEN.
465
hard, that till their extremities he is not moved with compassion,
but for wise and holy reasons: either "that they may not return
to folly," if by any presumptuous sin they forfeited their peace;
or if they have been careful to please him, yet he may deprive
them of spiritual comforts for a time, to keep them humble, and
that with an obedient resignation to his sovereign pleasure they
may wait for his reviving presence. And then joy returns great-
er than before: for thus God usually renders with interest, what
he suspended only for trial. But the saints above are forever
enlightened with the vital splendor, and dear regards of his coun-
tenance, always enjoy his beamy smiles. A continual effusion
of glory illustrates heaven and all its blessed inhabitants.
And their contemplation of God is fixed. If the object, though
extraordinarily glorious, were transient, or the eye so weak, that
it could only see it but by glances, the height of joy would not
be perpetual. But the mind is prepared with supernatural vigor,
to see the brightness of God's face, and by the most attentive
application always converses with that blessed object: so that
the joy of heaven is never intermitted for a moment. They al-
ways see, and love, and rejoice, and praise him.
It is possible a carnal suspicion may arise in some, as if the uni-
form perpetual vision of the same glory might lose its perfect de-
lightfulness. For those who seek for happiness in the vanity of
the creatures, are always desirous of change, and have their
judgments so corrupted, that while they languish with a secret
desire after an unchangeable God, yet they conceive no God
as desirable, that is not changed.
But to correct this gross error of fancy, let us a little inquire
into the causes of dissatisfaction, that make the constant fruition
of the same thing here to be tedious.
1. Sensible things are of such a limited goodness, that not any
of them can supply all our present wants, so that it is necessary to
leave one for another. And the most of them are remedies of
our diseased appetites, and if not temperately used, are destruc-
tive evils. Eating and drinking are to extinguish hunger and
thirst, but continued beyond just measure, become nauseous.
Besides the insufficiency of their objects, the senses themselves
cannot be satisfied all at once. The ear cannot attend to delight-
ful sounds, and the eye be intent on beautiful colors at the same
time. The satisfaction of one sense defeats another of enjoying
its proper good; therefore the same object is not constantly
pleasant, but the heart is distempered from as many causes, as
there are desires accomplished. And farther, all things under
the sun afford only a superficial delight, and miserably deceive
the expectations raised of them and many times there is a mix-
ture of some evil in them, that is more offensive than the good
is delightful. The honey is attended with a sting, so that often
those very things we sigh after through vehement desire, when
VOL. I.
59
466
OF HEAVEN.
1
they are obtained, we sigh for grief. Now all these causes of
dissatisfaction cease in heaven; *for there is an infinite variety
in God, and whatever is truly desirable, is eminently enjoyed in
him. And in his presence all the powers of the soul are drawn
out in their most pleasant exercise, always enjoy their entire
happiness. The fruition of him exceeds our most raised hopes,
as much as he is more glorious in himself, than in any borrowed
representations. God will be to us incomparably "above what
we can ask or think." The compass of our thoughts, the depth
of our desires are imperfect measures of his perfections. And
as he is a pure good in himself, so he is prevalent over all evil.
It is evident therefore, that nothing can allay the joys of saints,
when they are in God's presence.
2. Novelty is not requisite to ingratiate every good, and make
it perfectly delightful. God is infinitely happy, to whom no
good was ever new. It is indeed the sauce that gives a deli-
cious taste to inferior things. For men relish only what is em-
inent; and the good things of this world are so truly mean, that
they are fain to borrow a shew of greatness, by comparison with
a worse estate preceding. But an infinite good produces always
the same pure, equal, complete joy, because it arises from its in-
trinsic perfection, that wants no foil to command it. The Psalm-
ist breaks forth, "Whom have I in heaven but thee?" This is
no vanishing rapture, but a constant joyful height of affection.
God, the essential happiness of the saints, is always perfectly
lovely and delightful to them.
3. The glorified saints in every period of their happy state,
have as lively a perception of it as in the beginning. To make
this evident, we must consider that the pleasure of novelty
springs from a quick sense of the opposite terms, between our
condition in the want of some desired good, and after obtaining
it. Now the mind is more intense on the advantage, and more
strongly affected at first. One newly freed from the torments of
a sharp disease, feels a greater pleasure than from a constant
tenor of health. Those who are raised from a low state to em-
inent dignity, are transported with their first change; but in
tract of time, the remembrance of their mean condition is so
weakened and spent, that it is like the shadow of a dream, and
proportionably their joy is lessened. Honors, like perfumes, by
custom, are less sensible to those that carry them. But the saints
above always consider and feel the excellent difference between
* Vitæ nos tædium tenet timor mortis, natat omne consilium, nec implere
nos ulla fælicitas potest. Causa autem est, quod non pervenimus ad illud bo-
num inmensum et insuperabile, ubi necesse est, consistat nobis voluntas
nostra, quia ultra summum non est locus. Senec. Ep. 74.
с
- Εί η φύσις απλη εἴη, η αυτή πράξις η δίςη ἐςαί. Διο ο Θεός
αίει μίαν καὶ α πλην χαίρει ηδονήν. Arist. Eth. 1. 7. c. ult.
OF HEAVEN.
467
their suffering and triumphant state. They never lose that ravish-
ing part of felicity, the vivid sense of past evils. Their reflections
are always as strong on the misery from whence they were raised
to the pitch of happiness, as in their first glorious translation. In
what an extasy of wonder and pleasure will they be, from the
fresh memory of what they were, and the joyful sense of what
they are? I was (says the admiring soul) poor, blind, and nak-
ed; but, O miraculous and happy alteration! I am full of light,
enriched with the treasures of heaven, adorned with divine glo-
ry. I was under the tyrannous power of Satan, "but he is
bruised under my feet." I was sentenced to an everlasting sepa-
ration from the presence of God, my only life and joy; but
now am possessed of my supreme good. O how transporting is
the comparison of these wide and contrary extremes? How
beautiful and pleasant is the day of eternity, after such a dark
tempestuous night! How does the remembrance of such evils
produce a more lively and feeling fruition of such happiness!
How strangely and mightily does salvation with eternal glory af-
fect the soul! This gives a sprightly accent to their everlasting
hallelujahs: this preserves an affectionate heat in their thanks-
givings to their victorious deliverer. And thus their happiness
is always the same, and always new. Their pleasure is con-
tinued in its perfection.
1
CHAPTER VII.
The number of possessors of heaven cannot lessen its felicity. The blessedness
of the saints is without end. In the first creation, the happiness of angels
and men was mutable. The happiness in heaven as unchangeable as the
love of God to the saints, and the love of the saints to him. The woful folly
of men in refusing such a happiness. An excitation to seek this happiness.
The original moving cause of conferring this happiness, is the mercy of
God: the meritorious cause, is the obedience and passion of Christ. It is
impossible for an innocent creature, much more for the fallen creature, to
deserve any good thing from God. Our Saviour expiated the guilt of sin,
and by the merits of his obedience purchased the kingdom of heaven for
believers.
The number of possessors cannot lessen their felicity. The
divine presence is an unwasted spring of pleasure, equally full
and open to all, and abundantly sufficient to satisfy the immensity
of their desires. Envy reigns in this world, because earthly
things are so imperfect in their nature, and so peculiar in their
possession, that they cannot suffice, nor be enjoyed by all. But
468
OF HEAVEN.
*
in heaven none is touched with that base, low passion for God
contains all that is precious and desirable in the highest degrees
of perfection, and all partake of his universal goodness, without
intercepting one another. In the kingdom of heaven there is no
cause for the elder brother to repine at the father's bounty to
the younger, nor for the younger to supplant the elder to obtain
the birthright. "The heirs of God" are all raised to sovereign
glory; and every one enjoys him as entirely and fully, as if
solely his felicity. God is a good, as indivisible, as infinite,
and not diminished by the most liberal communications of him-
self. We may illustrate this, by comparing the price of our re-
demption, and the reward. The death of Christ is a universal
benefit to all the saints; yet it is so applied to every believer
for his perfect redemption, as if our Saviour in all his agonies
and sufferings had no other in his eye and heart; as if all his
prayers, his tears, his blood, were offered up to his father only
for that person. The common respect of it the Apostle declares
in those admirable words, that signify such an excess of God's
love to us: "He that spared not his own son, but delivered him
up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all
things?" But to imagine that the propriety of every beliver is
thereby prejudiced, is not only false, but extremely injurious to
the merit and dignity, and to the infinite love of Christ. There-
fore the same Apostle tells us, "The life which I now live in
the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me,
and gave himself for me;" as if he were the sole object of
Christ's love, the end and reward of his sufferings. And this
appropriating of it to himself, is no prejudice to the rights of all
others: St. John describes himself by that truly glorious title,
"the disciple whom Jesus loved." Could he speak this of him-
self, without the injury and indignation of the other disciples?
Certainly he might. For if we consider that incomprehensible
love of Christ, expressed to them all at his last supper, after
Judas was gone forth; "As the Father hath loved me, so I have
loved you;" we may easily understand, that every one of them
might justly believe that he was singularly beloved of Christ.
They were all received in the heart, though (with John) they
did not all lean on the breast of their divine master. Thus in
heaven God is the universal treasure of all the saints, and the
peculiar portion of every one; not engrossed by possessing, nor
wasted by enjoying. As by his essence he equally fills the
†
* Et totum se dedit universis, et totum singulis. Ac per hoc quicquid pas-
sione sua Salvator præstit, sicut totum ei debent universi, sic singuli; nisi
quod prope hoc plus singuli quam universi, quod totum acceperunt singuli,
quantum universi. Salvian.
+Si audiat multitudo silens, non inter se particulatim comminuunt sonos,
tanquam cibos; sed omne quod sonat et omnibus totum est, et singulis to-
tum. August. in Ep. ad Volusan.
1
OF HEAVEN.
469
whole world, and every part of it, and by his providence equally
regards all and every particular creature; so in heaven he dis-
penses the riches of his love to all, that they cannot desire more,
if every one of them were the sole heir of all the merits of his
son, and enjoy him alone forever.
(2.) The blessedness of the saints, as it is without diminution,
so it is without end it is complete and continual forever. This
makes heaven to be heaven; the security is as valuable as the
felicity. There is no satiety of the present, no solicitude for the
future. Were there a possibility, or the least suspicion of losing
that happy state, it would cast an aspersion of bitterness upon all
their delights: it would disturb their peaceful fruition, and joy-
ful tranquility: as hope in misery allays sorrow, so fear in hap-
piness dashes joy; and the more excellent the happiness is, the
more stinging would be the fear of losing it: "But the inherit-
ance reserved in heaven, is immortal, undefiled, and fades not
away." And the tenure of their possession is infinitely firm, by
the promise of God, who is truly immutable, and immutably
true; and by the divine power, the support of their everlasting
duration. Our Saviour assures his disciples, "Because I live, ye
shall live also ;" and "he lives for evermore." This blessed privi-
lege the saints have by Jesus Christ, (who obtained eternal re-
demption for them) above the grace given to angels and men in
the first creation. The angels were upon trial of their obedi-
ence, not in a determined state of felicity: the first declination
of love and subjection was fatal to them. Woful change! How
unlike to themselves in their original purity and glory! An un-
paralleled example of the fraility of the creature, and the divine.
severity. Man did stand in paradise for a little while, and had
a ruinous fall with all his progeny: "But the glorified saints sit
with Christ in heavenly places," and enjoy an unchangeable
happiness, as permanent as the everlasting author of it, and the
everlasting soul, the subject of it. With God is the fountain of
life: who can pluck them out of the hands and bosom of a gra-
cious God? He will never withdraw his love, and they shall
never forfeit it. For sin is from the perverseness of the will,
and the disorder of the affections, joined with some error of the
mind: but in the light of glory, and full enjoyment of God, the
understanding is so perfectly illuminated, the will and affections
so exceedingly satisfied, that it is impossible they should appre-
hend erroneously, or desire irregularly. God is love, and will
kindle in the saints a pure affection, that eternity shall not les-
sen.
In the present state our love is imperfect, and, as fire out
of its sphere, dies away by our neglect to feed it by proper ma-
terials, enamouring considerations of God: but in heaven, the
uncreated sun attracts every eye with the light of his beauty,
and inflames every heart with the heat of his love. The glori-
ous presence of God is in different respects the cause and effect
470
OF HEAVEN.
of our love to him; for the sight of God is the most powerful
attractive to love him, and love fixes the mind upon him. And
the persevering love of God assures the constant fruition of him:
for by love the supreme good is possessed and enjoyed. The
Apostle tells us, Charity never fails, and therefore the happi-
ness of heaven never fails. They enjoy a better immortality,
than the tree of life could have preserved in Adam. The revo-
lutions of the heavens, and ages, are under their feet, and can-
not in the least alter or determine their happiness. After the
passing of millions of years, still an entire eternity remains of
their enjoying God. O most desirable state! where blessedness
and eternity are inseparably united. O joyful harmony! when
the full chorus of heaven shall sing, "This God is our God for-
ever and ever." This adds an infinite weight to their glory.
This redoubles their joys with infinite sweetness and security:
for the direct pleasure of enjoying God, is attended with the
pleasant reflection it shall continue forever. They repose them-
selves in the complete fruition of their happiness. God reigns
in the saints, and they live in him forever. Eternity crowns and
consummates their felicity.
THE APPLICATION.
From what has been discoursed, we should,
Consider the woful folly of men in refusing such a happi-
ness, that by the admirable favor of God is offered to their choice.
Can there be an expectation, or desire, or capacity in man of
enjoying a happiness beyond what is infinite and eternal? O blind
and wretched world! so careless of everlasting felicity. Who
can behold, without compassion and indignation, men vainly
seeking for happiness where it is not to be found, and (after in-
numerable disappointments) flying at an impossibility, and neg-
lect their sovereign and final blessedness? An error in the first
inquiry might have some color of an excuse; but having been
so often deceived with painted grapes for the fruits of paradise,
that men should still seek for substantial blessedness to fill the
soul, in vain shows that can only feed the eye, is beyond all
degrees of folly. Astonishing madness! that God and heaven
should be despised, in comparison of painted trifles. This adds
the greatest contumely to their impiety. What powerful charm
obstructs their true judging of things? What spirit of error
possesses them? Alas, eternal things are unseen! not of con-
spicuous moment, and therefore in the carnal balance are esteem-
"It does
ed light, against temporal things present to the sense.
not appear what we shall be:" the veil of the visible heavens
covers the sanctuary where JESUS our high priest is entered,
and stops the inquiring eye.
OF HEAVEN.
471
But have we not assurance by the most infallible principles of
faith, that the Son of God came down from heaven to live with
us, and die for us, and that he rose again to confirm our belief,
in his "exceeding great and precious promises" concerning this
happiness in the future state? And do not the most evident
principles of reason and universal experience prove, that this
world cannot afford true happiness to us? How wretchedly do
we forfeit the prerogative of the reasonable nature, by neglect-
ing our last and blessed end? If the mind be darkened, that
it does not see the amiable excellencies of God, and the will be
depraved, that it does not feel their ravishing power; the man
ceases to be a man, and becomes like the beasts that perish. As a
blind eye is no longer an eye, being absolutely useless to that end
for which it was made. And though in this present state men are
stupid and unconcerned, yet hereafter their misery will awaken
them, to discover what is that supreme good wherein their per-
fection and felicity consists. When their folly shall be exposed
before God, angels and saints, in what extreme confusion will
they appear before that glorious and immense theatre? Our
Saviour told the unbelieving Jews, "There shall be weeping,
and gnashing of teeth; when ye shall see Abraham, and Isaac,
and Jacob, and all the Prophets in the kingdom of God, and you
yourselves turned out." They shall be tortured with the de-
sire of happiness, without possible satisfaction. It is most just,
that those who err without excuse, should repent without remedy.
Let us be seriously excited to apply ourselves with inflamed
desires, and our utmost diligence, to obtain this unchangeable
happiness in order to this, we shall consider the causes of it,
and the means whereby it is obtained.
The original moving cause, is the pure rich mercy of God,
that prepared it for his people, and prepares them for it. The
procuring cause, is the meritorious efficacy declared by the Apos-
tle; "The wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal
life, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
1. The designing, the preparation, and actual bestowing of the
heavenly glory, is from the mercy of God. This will appear by
considering,
(1.) That it is absolutely impossible that a mere creature,
though perfect, should deserve any thing from God: for enjoy-
ing its being and powers of working from his goodness, the pro-
duct of all is entirely due to him; and the payment of a debt
acquires no title to a reward: he is the proprietary and Lord of
all by creation. Hence it is clear, that inthe order of distribu-
tive justice, nothing can be challenged from him.
(2.) Besides, such is the infinite perfection of God in himself,
that no benefit can redound to him by the service of the crea-
ture: "When you have done all, say you are unprofitable ser-
vants; for we have done but what we ought to do." The neg-
472
OF HEAVEN.
lect of our duty justly exposes to punishment; but the perform-
ance of it deserves no reward, because no advantage accrues to
God by it: "Who hath first given unto him, and it shall be re-
compensed to him again?" He challenges all creatures, even
of the highest order. To speak strictly therefore, when God
crowns the angels with glory, he gives what is merely his own,
and does not render what is theirs. If he should leave them
in their pure nature, or deprive them of the being, he were no
loser, nor injurious to them: for what law binds him to enrich
them with immortal glory, who are no ways profitable to him, or
to preserve that being they had from his unexcited goodness?
No creature can give to him; therefore none can receive from
him, by way of valuable consideration.
(3.) There is no proportion between the best works of men,
and the excellency of the reward, much less an equivalence. It
was the just and humble acknowledgment of Jacob to God, "I
am less than the least of all thy mercies;" those that common
providence dispenses for the support and refreshment of this
temporal life; but how much less than the glorious excellencies
of the supernatural divine life, wherein the saints reign with
God forever? The most costly, the most difficult and hazard-
ous services are equally nothing in point of merit, with the giv-
ing but " a cup of cold water to a disciple of Christ," there
being no correspondence in value between them and the kingdom
of heaven. The Apostle tells us, "I count the sufferings of this
present life are not to be compared to the glory that shall be
revealed in us:" and suffering is more than doing. God rewards
his faithful servants, not according to the dignity of their works,
but his own liberality and munificence. As Alexander having
ordered fifty talents of gold to be given to a gentleman in poverty
to supply his want; and he surprised with that immense bounty,
modestly said, ten were enough: he replied, "If fifty are too
much for you to receive, ten are too little for me to give; there-
fore do you receive as poor, I will give as a king." Thus God,
in the dispensing his favors, does not respect the meanness of
our persons or services, but gives to us as a God. And the
clearest notion of the Deity is, that he is a being infinite in all
perfections, therefore all-sufficient, and most willing to make his
creatures completely happy.
(4.) If a creature perfectly holy, that never sinned, is unca-
pable to merit any thing from God, much less can those who are
born in a sinful state, and guilty of innumerable actual trans-
gressions, pretend to deserve any reward for their works. This
were presumption, inspired by prodigious vanity. For,
1. By his most free grace they are restored in conversion to
that spiritual power by which they serve him. The chaos was
not a deader lump before the Spirit of God moved on the face
of the waters, than the best of men were before the vital influ-
OF HEAVEN.
478
ences of the spirit wrought upon them: and for this they are so
deeply obliged to God, that if a thousand times more for his glo-
ry were performed, yet they cannot discharge what they owe.
2. The continuance and increase of the powerful supplies of
grace to the saints, who even since their holy calling by many
lapses have justly deserved that God should withdraw his grieved
Spirit, are new obligations to thankfulness; and the more grace,
the less merit.
3. The best works of men are imperfect, allayed with the
mixtures of infirmities, and not of full weight in the divine bal-
ance. If God should strictly examine our righteousness, it will
be found neither pure nor perfect in his eyes, and without favor
and indulgence would be rejected. And that which wants pardon,
cannot deserve praise and glory. "He shews mercy to thou-
sands that love him, and keep his commandments." If obedience
were meritorious, it were strict justice to reward them. The
Apostle prays for Onesiphorus, who had exposed himself to
great danger for his love to the gospel; "The Lord grant he
may find mercy in that day." The divine mercy gives the
crown of life to the faithful in the day of eternal recompense.
II. The meritorious cause of our obtaining heaven, is the
obedience of Jesus Christ, comprehending all that he did and
suffered to reconcile God to us. From him, as the eternal word,
we have all benefits in the order of nature; "for all things were
made by him," and for him, as the incarnate word, all good
things in the order of grace. What we enjoy in time, and ex-
pect in eternity, is by him. To shew what influence his medi-
ation has to make us happy, we must consider,
1. Man by his rebellion justly forfeited his happiness, and the
law exacts precisely the forfeiture. Pure justice requires the
crime should be punished according to its quality, much less
will it suffer the guilty to enjoy the favor of God: for sin is not
to be considered as an offence and injury to a private person,
but the violation of a law, and a disturbance in the order of go-
vernment so that to preserve the honor of governing justice,
an equivalent reparation was appointed. Till sin was expiated
by a proper sacrifice, the divine goodness was a sealed spring, and
its blessed effects restrained from the guilty creature. Now the
Son of God in our assumed nature offered up himself a sacrifice,
in our stead, to satisfy divine justice, and removed the bar, that
mercy might be glorified in our salvation. The Apostle gives
this account of it; We have boldness to enter into the holiest
by the blood of Christ, by a new and living way which he hath
consecrated for us through the veil, that is to say, his flesh, Heb.
10. 19. 20.
2. Such were the most precious merits of his obedience, that
it was not only sufficient to free the guilty contaminated race of
mankind from hell, but to purchase for them the kingdom of
VOL. I.
60
474
OF HEAVEN.
heaven. If we consider his human nature, all graces were born
with him, as rays with the sun, and shined in the whole course
of his life in the excellence of perfection. And the dignity of
his divine person derived an immense value to all he performed
as mediator. One act of his obedience was more honorable to
God, than all the lives of the saints, the deaths of the martyrs,
and the service of the angels. God was more pleased in the
obedience of his beloved Son, than he was provoked by the
rebellion of his servants. Therefore, as the just recompense
of it, he constituted him to be universal head of the church,
supreme judge of the world; invested him with divine glory,
and with power to communicate it to his faithful servants: "He
is the Prince of life." In short, it is as much upon the account
of Christ's sufferings that we are glorified, as that we are forgi-
ven. The wounds he received in his body, the characters of
ignominy, and footsteps of death, are the fountains of our glory.
His abasement is the cause of our exaltation.
If it be said, this seems to lessen the freeness of this gift, the
answer is clear:
This was due to Christ but undeserved by us. Besides, the
appointing his son to be our Mediator in the way of our ransom,
was the most glorious work of his goodness.
ven.
CHAPTER VIII.
The gospel requires qualifications in all that shall obtain the kingdom of hea-
The renovation of man according to the likeness of God, is indispen-
sably requisite for the enjoying of God. Renewing grace described. The
wisdom and justice of God requires that men be sanctified before they are
admitted into heaven. Without sanctification, there is a moral incapacity
of enjoying the beatific vision.
The means of our obtaining heaven are to be considered.
Though the divine goodness be free in its acts, and there can be
nothing in the creature of merit, or inducement to prevail upon
God in the nature of a cause, yet he requires qualifications in all
those who shall enjoy that blessed unchangeable kingdom. The
Apostle expressly declares, it is not of him that wills, nor of him
that runs, but of God that sheweth mercy, Rom. 9. 16. But
we must distinguish the effects of this mercy, which are dispen-
sed in that order the gospel lays down. The first mercy is the
powerful calling the sinner from his corrupt and wretched state;
a second mercy is the pardoning his sins; the last and most em-
inent is the glorifying him in heaven. Now it is clear, that in
OF HEAVEN.
475
this place the shewing of his mercy, signifies the preventing
grace of God in conversion; for in the 18th verse it is said,
God shews mercy "to whom he will, and whom he will he har-
dens." Where it is evident that shewing mercy is opposed not to
condemning but to hardening; and consequently the intent of
the words is this, that divine grace overcomes the rebellious
will, softens the stiff and stubborn heart, and makes it pliant to
obedience. This flows from his pure good will and pleasure,
without the least motive from the inclinations or endeavors of
sinful men. But the other effects of God's mercy require con-
ditions in the subjects that receive them: for he pardons only
penitent believers, and glorifies none but persevering saints.
To make this clear, it is worthy of observation, the gospel
has several denominations. It is called a law, a covenant, and a
testament, Rom. 3. 27. 1. It is called the law of faith, and
the law of the spiritual life. As a law, it signifies a new right
that God has most freely established in favor of lost man, that
commands certain duties, and sets before them eternal life as the
reward of obedience, and eternal death to the punishment of
disobedience. According to this the trial and decision of men's
everlasting states shall be, which is the character of a true law.
This law of grace is very different from the law of nature, that
required entire innocence, and for the least omission, or accus-
ing act, passed an irrevocable doom upon the offenders; for that
strictness and severity is mollified by the gospel, which accepts
of sincere persevering obedience though imperfect; accordingly
it is called the law of liberty, James 2. But the law of faith is
unalterable, and admits of no dispensation from the duties re-
quired in order to our being everlastingly happy.
2. The gospel is styled a covenant and that imports a recipro-
cal engagement between parties for the performance of the mat-
ter contained in it. The covenant of grace includes the prom-
ise of pardoning and rewarding mercy on God's part, and the
conditions on man's, with respect to which it is to be performed.
There is an inviolable dependence between them. He will be
our God to make us happy, but we must be his people to yield
unreserved obedience to him, Heb. 9. He will be our Father,
and we shall be his sons and daughters; but it is upon the terms
of purifying ourselves from all pollutions of the flesh and spirit,
and unfeigned endeavors to perfect holiness in his fear, 2. Cor. 7.
It is astonishing goodness, that he is pleased to condescend to
such a treaty with fallen creatures: by a voluntary promise he
encourages them; but though most free in making, it is condi-
tional in performance. The constancy of his holy nature obliges
him to fulfil his word, but it is if we do not fail on our part by
carelessness of our duty. A presumer may seal assurance to
himself, and be deceived in this great matter; but "God will
not be mocked." If we prove false in the covenant, he will be
476
OF HEAVEN.
faithful, and exclude those from heaven that were neglectful of
the conditions to which it is promised.
3. The gospel is styled, a testament sealed in the blood of
Christ, confirmed by his death. The donation of eternal bless-
ings in it, is not absolute and irrespective, but the heirs are ad-
mitted to the possession of the inheritance according to the will
of the rich, liberal, and wise testator. There can be no regular
title or claim made out without performing what is required.
And this "is the will of God and Christ, our sanctification,"
without which we cannot enjoy it.
Now from hence we may see the admirable agreement be-
tween these two notions, that heaven is a gift, and a reward.
It is a reward in the order of giving it, not due to the work, but
from the bounty of the giver. God gives heaven to those that
faithfully serve him. But their service was due to God, of no
worth in respect of heaven; so that man's work is no merit, and
God's reward is a gift. Our everlasting glory must be ascribed
to his most free grace, as much as the pardon of our sins.
I shall now proceed to consider, what the gospel declares to
be indispensably requisite in order to our obtaining heaven: this
is comprised in the holy change of man's nature, which I will
briefly unfold, and shew how necessary it is to qualify us for
celestial glory.
1. This holy change is expressed in scripture by the new
birth. Our Saviour, with a solemn repeated asseveration, tells
Nicodemus; verily, verily, except a man be born again, he can-
not see the kingdom of God, John 3. 3. Sin is natural to man
from his conception and birth, and infects with its contagion all
his faculties. This is fomented and cherished by temptations
that easily encompass him. The understanding is polluted with
evil principles, full of strong prejudices, and lofty imaginations
against the supernatural mysteries of salvation. It is full of ig-
norance and folly, and from hence either rejects them as incredi-
ble, or despises them as impertinent or unprofitable. The will
is depraved and perverse, full of unruly and unhallowed affec-
tions. The senses are luxurious and rebellious. In short, man
is so viciously and sensually inclined, so "alienated from the
life of God," as if he had no diviner part within him, that should
aspire to a spiritual blessedness, that should regulate and control
the excess of the inferior appetites. This is the unhappy char-
acter Satan impressed on him in his fall, and without renovation
upon an infinite account he is uncapable of seeing God. This
renovation consists not in the change of his substance, as the
water was miraculously turned into wine at the marriage in Cana
of Galilee: The same soul with its essential powers, the same
body with its natural senses, the work of the creator, remains ;
but in the cleansing of his stained nature, in the sanctifying his
faculties that are the springs of his actions, the whole man is
OF HEAVEN.
477
quickened into a divine life, and enabled to act in conformity to
it. And of this the new birth is a convenient illustration. An
active principle of holiness is planted in him, that springs up into
visible actions. The Apostle particularly expresses it in his
earnest prayer for the Thessalonians: "The very God of peace
sanctify you wholly, and preserve your whole spirit, soul and
body blameless, till the coming of Jesus Christ." Every faculty
is renewed, and every grace infused that constitutes the divine
image. The mind is renewed by spiritual light, to believe the
truth and goodness of unseen things promised, the reality and
dreadfulness of things threatened in the word of God. It sees
the truest beauty in holiness, the highest honor in obedience to
God, the greatest equity and excellence in his service. The
will is renewed by holy love, a purifying flame, and feels the at-
tractive virtue of our blessed end before all desirable things on
earth, and determines to pursue it in the vigorous use of proper
means. The body is made a holy instrument fit for the renewed
soul. In short, the natural man becomes spiritual in his percep-
tions, resolutions and actions. "All things are become new."
There is a firm assent, an inviolable adherence to those most
precious objects revealed in the scripture, and a sincere chosen
constant obedience flows from the renewed faculties. And from
hence we may distinguish between regenerating grace, and
formal hypocrisy in some, and the proficiency of nature and
power of common grace in others. A hypocrite in religion is
acted from without, by mercenary base respects; and his con-
science being cauterized, handles sacred things without feeling:
a regenerate person is moved by an internal living principle, and
performs his duties with lively affections. Natural conscience
under the compulsion of fear, may lay a restraint upon the out-
ward acts of sin, without an inward consent to the sanctity of the
law. Renewing grace cleanses the fountain, and the current is
pure. It reconciles the affections to the most holy commands,
"I love thy law because it is pure," saith the Psalmist.
A moral principle may induce one to abstain from sins, and to
perform many praise-worthy things in conformity to reason.
But this is neither sanctifying nor saving; for it only prunes sin
as if it were a good plant, and does not root it up; it compounds
with it, and does not destroy it. There may be still an impure
indulgence to the secret lustings of the heart, notwithstanding
the restraint upon their exercise. And many duties may be
done on lower motives, without a divine respect to the com-
mands and glory of God.
But renewing grace subjects the soul to the whole royalty of
the law, uniformly inclines it to express obedience to all its
precepts, because they are pure, and derived from the eternal
spring of purity. It mortifies concupiscence, and quickens to
every good work, from a principle of love to God, and in this is
478
OF HEAVEN.
8
distinguished from the most refined unregenerate morality. In
short, there may be a superficial tincture of religion from com-
mon grace, a transient esteem, vanishing affections, and earnest.
endeavors for a time after spiritual things, and yet a person re-
main in a state of unregeneracy. But renewing grace is a per-
manent solid principle, that makes a man "partaker of the di-
vine nature," and elevates him above himself.
Our Saviour
This holy change is wrought by divine power.
tells Nicodemus, "except a man be born of water and the Spirit,
he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." The analogy of a
new birth signifies, that it is entirely the work of the sanctify ing
Spirit, that conveys a principle of life in order to the functions
of it. It is the living impression of God, the sole efficient and
exemplar of it, the fruit and image of the divine virtues. It is
expressed by the new creature. The production of it is attribut-
ed to God's power displaying itself in a peculiar excellent way,
even in that precise manner, as in making the world. For as in
the first creation all things were made originally of nothing, so
in the second, the habit of grace is infused into the soul that was
utterly void of it, and in which there was as little preparation
for true holiness, as of nothing to produce this great and regular
world. And although there is not only an absolute privation of
grace, but a fierce resistance against it; yet creating invincible
power does as infallibly and certainly produce its effect in form-
ing the new creature, as in making the world. From hence it
appears, that preventing renewing grace is so entirely the work
of God, as his forming the human body from the dust of earth at
first; but with this difference, the first creation was done with-
out any sense in the subject, of the efficiency of the divine pow-
er in producing it but in the new creation, man feels the vital
influence of the spirit, applying itself to all his faculties, reform-
ing and enabling them to act according to the quality of their
nature.
And by the way, we may observe the admirable grace shew-
ed to man in the renovation of his corrupted nature. In the
composition of his being are united a spirit like the angels, and a
body like terrestrial animals, by which he partakes of the spirit-
ual and natural life: but he has peculiar favors conferred upon
him. For, whereas his soul sinned with the angels, and his body
dies with the beasts, yet God is pleased to restore them by his
glorious power. An angel after sin never repents, and is there-
fore incapable of pardon, and irrecoverably disinherited of hea-
ven a beast after death never revives; but though man sins and
dies, yet his soul may be renewed by divine grace, and his body
shall be raised in an incorruptible glory.
Now the indispensable necessity of this holy change is evident
from the words of our Saviour, for he speaks universally, Except
a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. He
OF HEAVEN.
479
does not simply declare that an unregenerate man shall not, but
with the greatest emphasis, cannot, to signify an absolute impos-
sibility of it. The Jews highly presumed of the privilege of their
carnal birth, they sprang from the pure and noble blood of Abra-
ham, God's friend; they had the seal of the holy covenant mark-
ed in their flesh and hence it was proverbial amongst them, that
every Israelite should have a part in the world to come. But
our Saviour overthrows this vain conceit, and tells them, that the
supernatural birth entitles to the supernatural inheritance. Cir-
cumcision then, and baptism now, without real grace, is an inef-
fectual sign, of no avail to salvation. In the quality of sons, we
are heirs of God's kingdom, Rom. 8. 17. And that honorable re-
lation we have upon a double account, by adoption and regener-
ation, Gal. 4. 7. Divine adoption is not a mere change of our
state, a naked declaration that one shall be dignified with the title
of God's Son; but a holy nature is always infused into the per-
son, whereby he is made like to God in his excellencies. In
this it differs from human adoption, that gives the name and
arms, the honor and estate of the adopter to a person, without
conveying any of his intellectual or moral endowments. Whom
God adopts, he begets to a divine life. Besides, our Saviour
purchased this high privilege for us: "God sent his son made of
a woman, under the law, to redeem them that were under the
law, that we might receive the adoption of sons:" by union with
him we receive the investiture of this dignity. "Now whoever
is in Christ, is a new creature." For the quickening spirit, that
is to the soul what the soul is to the body, the principle of life
and strength, of beauty and motion, and an active purifying faith
that is influential upon all other graces, are the band of that vital
union so that as all in Adam are universally corrupt by the first
birth, all that are in Christ are made holy by a new birth. But
of this I shall speak in the next chapter more fully, under a dis-
tinct head. Briefly, the spirit of grace that sanctifies, is the spir-
it of adoption that seals our right to that kingdom.
Now the reasons why this change must be in order to our ob-
taining of heaven, are these:
1. There is an exquisite wisdom shines in all God's works, in
disposing them for the ends to which they are appointed and is
it not monstrously absurd to imagine, he will admit into his pres-
ence and kingdom those that are absolutely unqualified for its
blessedness, and opposite to its purity?
2. His invariable justice excludes forever all unholy persons
from heaven. For in the last judgment God will be glorified as
a governor, in the distribution of rewards with respect to the
obedience and disobedience of men. It is worthy of observation,
that the actions of God on the reasonable creatures are of two
sorts. Some proceed from his sovereign good pleasure, of which
there is no motive or reason in the subjects on which they are
480
OF HEAVEN.
!
1
terminated. Thus by a free and insuperable decree (when all
mankind, lapsed and miserable, was in his view) he chose some
to be "vessels of mercy," and by privilege separated them from
the rest that finally perish. Now what induced him to place a
singular love on the elect? There was nothing in them to in-
cline his compassion, being equally guilty and depraved with the
rest of the progeny of Adam. This difference therefore is to be
resolved into his unaccountable and adorable will, as the sole
cause of it. Thus God declares it to be his glorious prerogative,
"I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have
compassion on whom I will have compassion." And this is no
unjust acceptance of persons: for as a benefactor, he may dis-
pense his own favors as he pleases. A gift from mere and arbi-
trary bounty may be bestowed on some, and not on others, with-
out injustice. But there are other actions of God, for which
there is an evident reason in men on whom they are terminated.
Thus, as the supreme judge, without respect of persons, 1 Pet.
1. 17. he will judge and reward every man according to his
works, Rom. 2. 16. Acts 26. 18. The evangelical law (as was
touched on before) is the rule of eternal judgment, and gives a
right from the gracious promise of God to all penitent believers
in the kingdom of heaven, and excludes all impenitent infidels.
Divine justice will illustriously appear then, in distinguishing be-
lievers from unbelievers by their works, the proper fruits either
of faith or infidelity: all the thick clouds of disgraces, calumnies,
persecutions, that often oppress the most sincere christians here,
shall not then darken their holiness; and all the specious appear-
ances of piety, which the most artificial hypocrites make use of
to deceive others, shall not conceal their wickedness. And ac-
cordingly the one shall be absolved and glorified, the others con-
demned and punished forever. In short, without violation of his
own righteous establishment in the gospel, God cannot receive
the unholy into his glory, Heb. 12. 14.
3. Besides the legal bar that excludes unsanctified persons from
the beatific vision of God, there is a moral incapacity. Suppose
that justice should allow Omnipotence to translate such a sinner to
heaven, would the place make him happy? Can two incongruous
natures delight in one another? The happiness of sense is by an
impression of pleasure from a suitable object: The happiness of
intellectual beings arises from an entire conformity of dispositions.
So that unless God recede from his holiness, which is absolutely
impossible; or man be purified, and changed into his likeness,
there can be no sweet communion between them. Our Saviour
assigns this reason of the necessity of regeneration in order to our
admission into heaven: "That which is born of the flesh, is flesh;
and that which is born of the spirit, is spirit." According to the
quality of the principle, such is what proceeds from it. The flesh
is a corrupt principle, and accordingly the natural man is wholly
OF HEAVEN.
481
The disease is
spiritual life, to
Nay, there is in
carnal in his propensions, operations and end.
turned into his constitution. He is dead to the
the actions and enjoyments that are proper to it:
him a surviving principle of enmity to that life; not only a mor-
tal coldness to God, but a stiff aversation from him, a perpetual
resistance and impatience of the divine presence, that would dis-
turb his voluptuous enjoyments. The exercises of heaven would
be as the torments of hell to him, while in the midst of those pure
joys his inward inclinations vehemently run into the lowest lees
of sensuality. And therefore till this contrariety, so deep and
predominant in an unholy person, be removed, it is utterly im-
possible he should enjoy God with satisfaction. As it was ne-
cessary that God should become like man on earth, to purchase
that felicity for him, so man must be like God in heaven, before
he can possess it. Holiness alone prepares men for celestial hap-
piness; that is against the corruption, and above the perfection of
mere nature.
I shall now proceed to consider more particularly what is re-
quisite in order to our obtaining of heaven.
CHAPTER IX.
Faith in the Redeemer is indispensably required of all that will partake of
salvation. Heaven must be chosen as our supreme happiness, and sought
as our last end. The choice of heaven must be sincere, early, firm and con-
stant. The sincerity of the choice discovered by the zealous use of means
to obtain it. The sincerity of the choice will regulate our judgments and
affections, with respect to temporal things that are so far good or evil to us
as they conduct or divert us from heaven. The sincere choice of heaven
will make us aspire to the highest degrees of holiness we are capable of in
the present state. The vanity of the hopes of the lukewarm in religion
discovered.
1. Faith in the redeemer is absolutely required of all that will
partake of the salvation purchased by him. God so loved the
world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever be-
lieves in him, should not perish, but have eternal life, John 3. 16.
This is the spirit and substance of the gospel, therefore I will
briefly unfold it. The Son of God having assumed the human
nature, and performed what was necessary for the expiation of
sin, Phil. 2. 8, 9. the Father was so pleased with his obedi-
ence, that from his lowest state he raised him to divine glory,
and gave him supreme authority, and all-sufficient power to com-
municate that glory, to others. Thus our Saviour declares;
VOL. I.
61
482
OF HEAVEN.
Thou hast given him (i. e. the Son) power over all flesh, that
he should give eternal life to as many as thou hast given him,
John 17. 2. And he exhorts the people, labor for that meat
that endures unto eternal life, which the Son of man shall give
unto you, for him hath God the Father sealed, John 6. Now
this glorious life is not given to all, but only to those who are
united to him. As Adam, the principle of the carnal corrupt
nature, derives guilt and death to all his progeny: so Jesus
Christ (who is opposed to him) the head and prince of the re-
newed state, communicates life and glory to his people. The
Apostle expresses it, As in Adam all die (his natural descend-
ents are involved in his condemnation) even so in Christ shall
all be made alive, 1 Cor. 15. 22. that is, all that are spiritually
united to him, shall partake of his glorious resurrection, And
St. John tells us, He that hath the Son, hath life; and he that
hath not the Son, hath not life, 1 John 5. 12. The having the
Son, upon which our right to eternal life depends, is believing in
him. Faith has a principal efficacy in receiving Christ, there-
fore it is expressed by that act, But as many as received him, to
them gave he power to become the sons of God, John 1. 12.
(and consequently heirs of glory) to as many as believed on his
name. And Christ is said to dwell in our hearts by faith, Eph.
3. 17. This is not a mere assent to the doctrines of the gospel
concerning the dignity of his person, that he is in so high and
glorious a relation of being the eternal Son of God, and the in-
finite value of his merits, whereby he is able to save all that
come unto God by him, and his merciful compassionate nature to
embrace returning sinners, and the excellency of the benefits
purchased by him; but such a belief as sways the will and af-
fections to receive him upon God's terms for our salvation. Faith
is seated in the whole soul, in the mind and heart, and accepts.
of Christ entirely as prophet, priest, and king. The parts of
the Mediator's office are inseparably connected, and all the
effects of them are communicated to the same persons.
"Jesus
Christ is made of God to believers, wisdom," to cure their igno-
rance and folly; righteousness, to abolish their guilt; sanctifica-
tion, to renew their natures; and redemption, to free them at
last from the grave, and bring them to glory, 1 Cor. 1. From
hence it is clear, that the faith which is justifying and saving, in-
cludes in its nature, as dependence and trust in Christ, as a pow-
erful and merciful Mediator, that is able and willing to reconcile
us to God, and make us forever happy in his favor; so a sincere
resolution of obedience and subjection to all his holy commands,
even to the plucking out of the right eye, and the cutting off the
right hand, the parting with the most pleasing or profitable sins.
For the promises of God that are the rule of faith, make an of
fer of Christ upon these conditions to us: him hath God exalted
with his right hand, to be a Prince and a Saviour, for to give re-
OF HEAVEN.
483
pentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins, Acts 5. 31. And
only the justified shall be glorified, Rom. 8. Those therefore
who desire a partial interest in him as a Saviour, out of abso-
lute necessity to escape hell, and will not out of love submit to
him as their prince, have not that faith that is unfeigned, and
gives a title to eternal life by the promises of the gospel.
2, We must choose heaven as our supreme happiness, and
regard it as the main end of our lives. Man fell from his duty
and felicity, by preferring sensual pleasure beyond the favor of
God, and became guilty of the greatest disobedience and dis-
honor to his maker, and is restored by the holy change of his
will, the setting his affections on a pure spiritual blessedness.
This subliming the will, and turning its love and choice from the
creatures to God, is the effect of divine grace, and wrought in
a rational way. For man is not moved as artificial engines by
force, nor as brutes from necessity, their faculties being determi-
ned by the outward application of objects; he is not drawn up
to heaven by such a natural impression, as steel by the loadstone
nor forced by a violent motion, as a stone ascends; but as an
understanding free agent, by the direction of the enlightened
mind, and the consent of the will, an elective unconstrained
faculty. And herein the wisdom, goodness and equity of God's
transactions with man appears. His wisdom, in that as he has or-
dered in the whole sphere of nature, that the active powers of
every creature be drawn forth into exercise for their preserva-
tion, and accordingly he is pleased to work in and by them;
so the understanding and will, the principles of operation in man,
are to deliberate and choose in order to his happiness: other-
wise the rational faculties would be in vain. His goodness and
equity, in that he sets before them eternal life as the reward of
obedience. God will be glorified by him as a lawgiver and a
benefactor, and has ordained in the gospel, that all who choose
and diligently seek the kingdom of heaven, shall infallibly ob-
tain it, and none be deprived of it but for their neglect. The
decree of a final state of misery, though not in time, yet is con-
sequent in the order of causes, to the obstinate reluctancy of
sinners against restoring grace, and the wilful forsaking their
own mercies. Therefore God vindicates the equity of his pro-
ceedings with men by their own principles, and with tender pity
expostulates, "Why will ye die ?" The corrupt will declining
from God, and adhering to the creatures as its happiness, is the
true cause of man's ruin. This will infinitely clear the wisdom
and justice, the purity and goodness of God from all imputation.
The choice of heaven for our felicity is primarily to be deter-
mined, for it is from the prospect of it, that all holy counsels
derive their life and vigor. As in drawing the picture of a man,
the first work is to delineate the head, not only as the part that
in dignity and eminence is above the rest, but as it regulates the
484
OF HEAVEN.
drawing of the other parts, and gives a just proportion and cor-
respondence between them, without which the whole figure
becomes disordered and monstrous. Thus in the moral consid-
eration of man, that which is primarily to be considered is the
soul, and its final felicity, as incomparably more excellent than
the body and its pleasure: for this will have a powerful influ-
ence upon the whole life, directing to avoid what is inconsistent
and impertinent, and to do what is conducive to it.
Now this being a matter of unspeakable importance, I will,
first, shew what the regular choice of heaven includes, as to its
qualities and effects. Secondly, direct how to make this choice.
Thirdly, present some powerful motives to excite us to it.
The qualities of this choice are three: 1. It must be sincere
and cordial. 2. Early, in our first and best days. 3. Firm and
constant.
[1.] It must be sincere and cordial. The most essential and
active desire in human nature is to happiness; but there being
two kinds of good things presented to the will that solicit the
affections, the pleasures of sense, and spiritual joys, from hence
it is that that which makes men happy is the object of election.
And although there is nothing more uniform and inviolable than
the natural inclination to happiness, yet the great distinction of
mankind arises from this source, the regular or perverse use of
this inclination, the wise or mistaken choice of happiness. Now
the sincerity of our choice is discovered, when it is clear and
entire, arising from a transcendent esteem of the favor and en-
joyment of God as our chief good, and absolutely requsite for
us.
And from hence it is evident, that the choice of true hap-
piness, necessarily includes the despising and rejecting of the
false happiness that stands in competition with it. There can-
not be two reigning principles in the soul; for it cannot vigor-
ously apply itself to two objects at the same time. Our Saviour
has decided it; "No man can serve two masters; for either he
will hate the one, and love the other, or hold to the one, and
despise the other: ye cannot serve God and Mammon :" the
masters are irreconcileable, and their commands are directly op-
posite. It was as possible to place upon the same altar the Ark
of God, and the Idol of the Philistines, as that heaven and the
world should compound and take equal shares in our affections.
Indeed, if the conceptions in the mind are but faint and floating,
of the universal satisfying goodness of the object proposed to
make us happy, the will remains in suspense; but when it is
clearly and strongly represented, the heart is drawn entirely to
embrace it. Divine grace, by the illumination of the under-
standing, purifies and changes the depraved will, and heals the
distempered affections. The wise merchant, that had a discern-
ing eye, saw reason enough to part with all, that he might gain
the pearl of price, the grace and glory of the kingdom of hea-
OF HEAVEN.
485
ven.
The Apostle declares his resolute contempt of the concur-
rence of all the prerogatives either the law or the world could
afford him, that he might have an interest in Christ, the Recon-
ciler and restorer of man to the favor and fellowship of God:
"But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ;
yea doubtless, I count all things but loss for the excellency of
the knowledge of Jesus Christ my Lord, for whom I have suffer-
ed the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I
might win Christ." The glorious gospel is the brightest and
most pleasant light that ever shone upon the world, a revelation
of the deepest wisdom and most admirable love, wherein the
combination of God's holy and wonderful counsels for our sal-
vation is unfolded; and accordingly St. Paul, with the greatest
life of affection, sets forth his value of it, and by full and most
vilifying expressions, rejects all things in comparison of it.
2. The sincerity of the heavenly choice is discovered by a
zealous observance of the means requisite in order to it. Inani-
mate things incline to rest in their centre, the rational intend
and pursue it the blessed end, when valued and respected ac-
cording to its worth, excites and directs the affections and en-
deavors in that order and measure as is proportionable to its ex-
cellency, and the difficulties of obtaining it. There may be a
naked estimation, and some desires of eternal happiness simply
considered, yet the will remains incomplete and undetermined
in its choice for the end, in conjunction with the means, is pro-
pounded to us, and the carnal man will not consent to the means:
he dislikes the holiness of religion, and will rather forfeit hea-
ven than submit to such strict terms. Though with Balaam, in
a fit of devotion, he says, "O that I might die the death of the
righteous, and that my last end might be like his !" yet, from in--
dulgence to his sensual inclinations, he will not live as the right-
eous. All his wishes of true happiness are soon strangled by
the predominant love of some vanity. It is said of the Israel-
ites, they despised the pleasant land, Psal. 106. 14. not abso-
lutely in itself, for it was "the glory of all lands," abounding
with things for the support and delight of man; but considering
its distance, a wilderness waste and wild interposing, and the
enemies to be encountered, they did not think it worthy of un-
dergoing such hazards and difficulties. The land of Canaan was
a type of heaven, both with respect to its pleasantness, and the
manner of the Israelites obtaining it; their title to it was deriv-
ed from the rich bounty of God, therefore it is called the "land
of promise;" but it was to be possessed by conquest. Thus
the celestial Canaan is the pure gift of God; but the actual en-
joyment of it is obtained by victorious resistance against the en-
emies of our salvation. And carnal men despise this pleasant
land, the promise being inseparably joined with precepts of duty
and obedience, from which they are averse. But he that chooses
486
OF HEAVEN..
sincerely, is joyful and vigorous in the use of means for acquir-
ing his most desired good. Ardent affections, like Elijah's chari-
ot of fire, ravish the soul above this sensible world, to the place
where God dwells in glory. Zeal animates his endeavors, as
the motion of the heart diffuses the spirits into the arteries, to
convey life to all parts of the body. "One thing (saith the
inflamed Psalmist) have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek
after, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of
my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his
temple." The sensual man is ranging abroad for satisfaction,
and shoots all the game that crosses his eye; but the soul that
has a discovering light, and feeling heat of the divine beauty,
unites all its desires in God, and, with affection to an extasy,
longs for the enjoyment of him; and the endeavors are in some
proportion to the desires. Our Saviour tells us, that "from the
days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suf-
fers violence, and the violent take it by force." Some previous
rays of the Sun of righteousness appeared in his ministry, and
produced such a holy ardency in those converts, that with all
resolution, diligence and earnestness, they sought to be partakers
of the blessedness revealed. Lazy desires, easy prosecutions,
sluggish attempts, discover that the heart is not thoroughly en-
gaged for the spiritual eternal good. When the end is truly de-
signed, it will give law to the actions: this is visible in carnal
worldly men; how sagacious, how solicitous are they to accom-
plish their ends and base designs? They try all ways, either by
fine dissimulation, or toilsome industry, to obtain their desires.
No time is too much in their gainful affairs, or voluptuous enjoy-
ments they transform the night, to lengthen out the day for
.their profit; they veil the day, to lengthen out the night for
their ease and pleasure. But alas, heaven is only regarded by
the by; as if the intellectual soul were only given to dwell with
the body on earth, the place of its banishment, and direct affairs
here below, and not to lead in the way to heaven, the place of
its nativity, and prepare for another world. The work of salva-
tion is followed with that remiss degree of affection, as if it
were a slight matter whether performed or neglected. These
persons carry their conviction in their bosoms; for they are ar-
dent and active to obtain inferior and infinitely less concerning
ends, but with that cold application mind the superior nobler end
of man, that it is wholly frustrate, which plainly shews it was
never seriously intended by them.
The sight of worldly men so active and vigilant to prosecute.
their low designs, should quicken us to seek with greater dili-
gence and alacrity the kingdom of heaven, and the righteousness
thereof. A carnal wretch, urged by the sting of a brutish desire,
with what impatience doth he pursue "the pleasures of sin that
are but for a season ?" An ambitious person, with what an intem-
OF HEAVEN.
487
perate height of passion does he chase a feather? A covetous
man, how greedily does he pursue the advantages of "the pres-
ent world, that passes away, and the lusts thereof? Ah! how do
they upbraid our indifferent desires, our dull delays, and cold en-
deavours, when such a high prize is set before us? Who is able
to conceive the ravishing pleasure of the soul, when it first enters
through "the beautiful gate" of the celestial temple, and sees the
the glory of the place, and "hears a voice from the throne, en-
ter into thy Master's joy," to be happy with him forever? The
serious belief of this will draw forth all our active powers in the
service of God.
3. The sincerity of our heavenly choice declares itself in the
temper and frame of our hearts, with respect to all temporal things
in this world. For our main and happy end being established,
that it consists not in secular riches and honors, and the pleasures
of sense, but in the clear vision of God, the blessedness of the
Spirit; it follows, that al! present things are in our use so far
good or evil, and to be desired or not, as they are profitable or
prejudicial to our obtaining salvation, as they conduct or divert
us from heaven. A wise christian looks on temporal things, not
through the glass of disordered passions, that are impetuous and
impatient for what is grateful to them, but with reference to his
future happiness. He considers the train of temptations that at-
tend an exalted condition, and desires such a portion of these
things, as may redound to the glory of the giver, and be
improved for his own salvation. This purity of affections our
Saviour teaches us: For in his divine form of prayer, (the true
directory of our desires) are set down, in an admirable order, all
things we are to pray for. And they respect the end, or the means.
The end is the primary object of our desires. Accordingly the
two first petitions concern our blessed end, as it respects God
and ourselves; we pray, "Hallowed be thy name," that is, by the
reverence and adoration of all his subjects; and, 66
Thy kingdom
come," that is, for the manifestation of his eternal glory in the next
world, that we may reign with him. The means in order to this
end are of two sorts: some conduct to it by themselves; those
are the good things desired in the third and fourth petitions; and
some lead to it by accident, and those are the freedom from evils,
expressed in the last petition. The good things desired, either.
have a direct influence upon our obtaining happiness; and they are
summed up in our universal obedience to God's will, expressed in
the third petition, "Let thy will be done on earth, as it is in heav-
en;" or they are such as by way of subserviency promote our
happiness, and those we pray for in the fourth petition, "Give us
this day our daily bread." And it is observable, there is but one.
petition for temporal blessings, and it is the last in the order of
those that concern good things: And that single petition is so re-
strained, that it is evident by its tenor, that earthly things are not
488
OF HEAVEN.
absolutely good to be desired for themselves, but relatively and
subordinately to our eternal good. Daily bread we must ask of
our heavenly father, the necessary support of the present life,
without which, we cannot exercise our internal or external pow-
ers and faculties in his service; but not delicacies and abundance
for the luxurious appetite.
The difference of conditions in the present world is very
great; as in Pharaoh's dream, some ears of corn were so full and
weighty, that they bended with their weight; others so thin and
blasted, that they were as stubble for the fire. Thus some abound
in all felicities possible in this life, others are "chastened every
morning" under various and continual afflictions. Now this in-
fallible principle being planted in the heart, that all present things
are to be improved with respect to our future happiness, will
moderate the affections in prosperity, so to use the world that we
may enjoy God, and make us not only patient, but pleased in ad-
versities, as they are preparatory for heaven.
*The original of all the sins and misery of men, is their per-
verse abuse of things, by turning the means into the end, setting
their affections of love, desire and joy upon sensible things, as
their proper happiness, with inconsiderate neglect of the spiritual
eternal state, to which all other things should be subservient. As
if one diseased and sickly in a foreign country, that could not
possibly recover his health but in his native air, in his return
thither, invited by the pleasantness of the way, should take up
his residence in it, and never arrive to his country. Among the
West-Indies some are † reported to be swift in running; that no
horse can keep pace with them; and they have a constant rule in
their diet, to eat of no beast, or bird, or fish, that is slow in motion,
fancying it would transfuse a sluggishness in them. The christian
life is by the apostle compared to a race, and earthly things by
an inseparable property of nature load and depress the soul, that
it cannot with vigor run the "race set before it."
race set before it." The believer
therefore who intends "for the high price of his calling," and is
true to his end, will "be temperate in all things." Nay, he will
not only be circumspect, lest they should check with his great
design, but wisely manages them in subserviency to it. St. Paul
charges them that are rich in this world, to do good, to be rich in
good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate, laying
in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to
come, that they may lay hold of eternal life, 1 Tim. 6. 18, 19.
And the fixed aim at heaven, as our felicity, will reconcile an
afflicted state to us. When temporal evils are effectual means to
promote our everlasting happiness; the amiableness and excel-
* Frui est amore alicujus rei inhærere propter seipsam, uti autem, quod in
usum venerit, ad id quod amas obtinendum referre. Aug. de Doct. Christ.
+ Acosta.
OF HEAVEN.
489
lency of the end changes their nature, and makes those calami-
ties that in themselves are intolerable, to become light and easy.
The poor, the mourners, the persecuted are blessed now, "be-
cause theirs is the Kingdom of heaven." The Apostle, though
under variety of sharp troubles, yet expresses his sense with that
mitigation, as but lightly touched with them: "As sorrowful but
always rejoicing." From hence he tells us, that with unfainting
courage he prosecuted his glorious end. "For our light afflic-
tions that are but for a moment, work for us a far more exceed-
ing weight of glory." This seriously believed and considered,
will make us understand the harmony and consent of the most
discordant parts of God's Providence. This will reconcile the se-
verity and roughness of his hand, with the tender compassions of
his heart toward his servants. This will dry up rivers of unprofi-
table tears that flow from the afflicted, and make the cross of
Christ a light burden. For their heaviest afflictions are not only
consistent with his love, but the effects of it are influential upon
their happiness. We are now tossed upon the alternate waves of
time, but it is that we may arrive to the port, the blessed bosom
of our saviour, and enjoy a peaceful calm; and "so we shall be
ever with the Lord." Words of infinite sweetness! This is the
song of our prosperity, and the charm of our adversity: well
might the Apostle add immediately after, "Therefore comfort
one another with these words.'
""
4. The sincere choice of heaven as our final happiness, will
make us aspire to the greatest height of holiness we are capable
of in the present state. For the end has always a powerful vir-
tue to transform a man into its likenes: And heaven is a state of
perfect conformity to the holy God. This difference is observa-
ble between the understanding and the will in their operations:
the understanding is forming conceptions of things, draws the ob-
ject to itself. The will is drawn by the object it chooses, and is
always fashioning and framing the soul into an entire conformity
to it. Thus carnal objects, when propounded as the end of a
man, secretly imprint on him their likeness; his thoughts, affec-
tions, and whole conversation is carnal. As the Psalmist speaks
of the worshipers of idols, "they that make them are like unto
them, so is every one that trusteth in them." Whatever we
adore and esteem, we are changed into its image. Idolaters are
as stupid and senseless, as the idols to which they pay homage.
Thus when God is chosen as our supreme good and last end, by
conversing with him, the image of his glorious holiness is derived
on the soul, and it becomes Godly: the heart is drawn by his
attractive excellencies, and the life directed to him. This being
a point of great importance, I shall further prove and illustrate it.
There is no deliberating about the degrees of that which is lov-
ed for itself as our end. More or less may respect the means
that are valued and used to obtain it, but the love of the end is
62
VOL. I.
490
OF HEAVEN.
vast and unlimited. A physician endeavors to recover his pa-
tient to sound and perfect health, that being the end of his art.
Hẹ that seeks for honor or riches, is not content with a medioc-
rity of success, but drives on his affairs to the full period of his
desires. An ardent lover of learning with a noble jealousy strives
to excel others in knowledge. In short, no man designs and
longs for a thing as his happiness, but will use all diligence to gain
the present and full possession of it. Therefore it cannot be im-
agined that any person sincerely propounds the enjoyment of
heaven as his end, but love will make him fervent and industri-
ous to be as heavenly as is possible here. He will strive by
blessed and glorious gradations, to ascend to the perfection of his
aims and desires, "to be holy as God is holy in all manner of con-
versation, to be pure as Christ is pure." We have an admirable
instance of this in St. Paul, who declares, Brethren, I count not
myself to have apprehended; but this one thing I do, forgetting
those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those
things which are before, I press toward the mark, for the prize
of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus, Phil. 3. 13, 14. His
progress was great, yet that did not make him slack in the pros-
ecution of his end. He labored to attain the precedent of our
Saviour, to feel the power of his death and life, to apprehend
Christ entirely and perfectly as Christ had apprehended him. He
was very diligent to improve the divine image in his heart and
life.
From hence we may discover the vanity of their hopes, that
are of lukewarm affections in religion, (the abhorred character
of Laodicea) who esteem it a prudent principle, as convenient
for their carnal ease and interest, not to be earnest in following
holiness. Vices in mediocrity are tolerable with them, only the
excess is condemned. They content themselves with a medioc-
rity in religion, and are presumptuous and secure, as the church
that said, "I am rich, and have need of nothing." They boast
as if they had found out the temperate region between the burn-
ing line and the frozen pole. They account all that is above
their degrees in religion, to be furious or indiscreet zeal, and
all below to be dead, cold profaneness. They censure those for
hypocrisy or unnecessary strictness, who are visibly better, and
stand upon proud comparisons with those who are visibly worse:
and thus set off themselves by taxing others. But how easily
do men deceive and damn themselves? Can we have too much
of heaven upon the earth? Can we become too like God, when a
perfect conformity to him is our duty and felicity? Indeed moral
virtue consists in a mediocrity, not of the habitual quality, but
of the affections and actions between the vicious extremities.
Fortitude consists in the mean between cowardice, and rash
boldness; but how much the more confirmed the courageous
habit is, so much the more a man excels in that virtue.
Liber-
OF HEAVEN.
491
ality consists between an indiscreet profuseness, and sordid
avarice; patience between a soft delicacy, and stupid insensi-
bility. Thus philosophic virtue glories in its beauty as pure and
entire, between two vicious deformities. And the religion of
many is paganism dressed up in a christian fashion. But this
mediocrity only belongs to inferior virtues, that respect things of
created limited goodness, and is determined according to the
worth of their nature. But divine graces respect an object su-
premely good, and their perfection consists in their most ex-
cellent degrees, and the most intense affections and operations
that are leading to it. Faith in its obedience, hope in its assu-
rance, love in its ardor can never exceed. When the object is
infinite, a mediocrity is vicious. Humility can never descend
too low, nor love ascend too high for reflecting upon our natu-
ral and moral imperfections, that we are raised from nothing, that
we are defiled and debased with sin, we cannot have too low
thoughts of ourselves. And since God the sovereign being,
infinite in perfections, and infinitely amiable, is the object, no
bounds or measure must be set to our affections, but with all our
united powers, "all the heart, and with all the soul, and with
all the mind, and with all the strength," we must love him, and
please him, and endeavor to be beloved of him.
There are others will acknowledge their defect, and tell you
they do not pretend to eminent sanctity, to the graces of the
Apostles and martyrs, nor aspire to their degrees in glory; they
are content with a lower place in heaven, and less strict religion is
sufficient for their purpose. This deceit is strengthened by Popery,
that enervates and dissolves many of our Saviour's precepts, by
teaching they are not laws obliging all christians to obedience, that
will attain to eternal life, but counsels of perfection: if they are
not done, it is no sin; and the performance of them meritoriously
entitles to a richer crown. And though men by impure indul-
gencies please their sensual affections, yet by tasting purgatory
in the way, they may come to heaven on easier terms, than an
universal respect to God's commands, and an equal care to ob-
serve them. But death will confute all these feeble wretched
pretences for though the saints above shine with an unequal
brightness, as the stars differ in glory; yet none are there but
saints. And those who do not mourn under their imperfections,
and unfeignedly desire and endeavor to be better, were never
really good. The slothful servant that did not waste, but neg-
lect to improve his talent, was cast into "outer darkness."
There are different degrees of punishment in hell, but the least
miserable there are miserable forever. In short, it is a perfect
contradiction, a prodigy, for any man to think he is sincere in
his choice, and prepared in his affections for the pure glorious
felicity in heaven, that does not labor to "cleanse himself from
all pollutions of flesh and spirit, and to perfect holiness in the
fear of God."
492
OF HEAVEN.
CHAPTER X.
The choice of heaven must be early, in the prime of our days. The choice must
be constant. Saving perseverance includes the permanent residence of
grace in the soul, and the exercise of it, and progress towards perfection.
Perseverance is required, notwithstanding all temptations that may allure or
terrify.us from our duty. Saving perseverance excludes not all sins, but
total apostacy and final impenitency. The sincerity of obedience is dis-
covered by its constancy. A corrupt confidence, or a vicious dejection of
spirit, the trusting in ourselves, and distrusting God are equally pernicious
to the stability of a christian.
[2.] The choice of eternal felicity must be early, in the prime
of our days. The rule of our duty, and reason binds us “to re-
member our Creator in our youth," to pay him the first fruits of
our time and strength. When we are surrounded with enticing
objects, and the senses are entire and most capable to enjoy
them, when the electing powers are in their vigor, then it is
just we should live to God, obey him as our lawgiver, and prefer
the fruition of him in heaven, the reward of obedience, before
all the pleasures of vanity. It is very honorable and pleas-
ing to God to give the heart to him, when the flesh and the world
strongly solicit to withdraw it. It is a high endearment of the
soul to him, when his excellencies are prevalent in the esteem
and affections, above all the charms of the creatures. And it is
an unspeakable satisfaction to the spirit of a man, to declare the
truth and strength of his love to God, by despising temptations,
when they are most inviting, and the appetite is eager for the
enjoyment of them. But alas! how many neglect their duty,
and defer their happiness? they think it too soon to live for hea-
ven, "before the evil days come, wherein they shall have no
pleasure," when they cannot sin and vainly presume they can
repent. The danger of this I have considered in the discourse of
death, and shall therefore proceed to the next head.
[3.] Our choice of heaven must be constant and lasting.
:
The two principal rules of the spiritual life are to begin and
end well to fix and establish the main design for everlasting
happiness, and from a determinate resolution, and ratified purpose
of heart, to pursue it with firmness and constancy: to live for
heaven, and with readiness and courage to die for it, if the glory
of God so require. Perseverance is indispensably necessary in
all that will obtain the eternal reward.
3
OF HEAVEN.
493
For the clearing this most important point, I will,
I. Represent from scripture the idea of perseverance, that is
attended with salvation.
II. Consider why it is so strictly required.
I. (1.) Saving perseverance includes the permanent residence
of grace in the soul: it is composed of the whole chain of graces,
the union of holy habits that are at first infused into a christian
by the sanctifying Spirit. When eternal life is promised to faith,
or love, or hope, it is upon supposal that those graces being
planted in the heart, shall finally prosper. He that is faithful to
the death, shall inherit the crown of life, Rev. 2. It is love that
never fails, 1 Cor. 13. that shall enter into heaven.
"It is hope
firm unto the end," that shall be accomplished in a glorious frui-
tion. If grace be disseised by a usurping lust, apostacy will fol-
low, and the forfeiture of our right in the kingdom of heaven.
(2.) Grace must be continually drawn forth into exercise, ac-
cording to our several states and duties, and the various occa-
sions that happen in our course through the world. Those "who
are light in the Lord, are commanded to walk as children of the
light;" to signify the excellency and purity of the christian life.
"Those who live in the Spirit, must walk in the Spirit ;" that
is, by a conspicuous course of holiness declare the vigor and ef-
ficacy of the divine principle that is communicated to them.
"Paulum sepulta distat inertia celata virtus:" virtue that
breaks not forth into visible actions, is not worthy of the name.
The mere abstaining from evil is not sufficient, but all the posi-
tive acts of the holy life are to be constantly done. In dis-
charging both these parts of our duty, complete religion is ex-
pressed, and the power of grace consists.
(3.) Perseverance includes not only continuance in well-do-
ing, but fervor and progress towards perfection. There are two
fixed states, the one in heaven, the other in hell. The blessed
spirits above are arrived to the height of holiness. The Devil
and damned spirits are sunk to the lowest extremity of Sin.
But in the middle state here, grace in the saints is a rising grow-
ing light; and sin in the wicked improves every day, like poison
in a serpent, that becomes more deadly by his age. We are in-
joined not to remain in our first imperfections, but to "follow
holiness" to the utmost issue of our lives, to its entire consum-
mation. For this end all the dispensations of Providence must
be improved, whether prosperous or afflicting. And the ordin-
ances of the gospel were appointed, that in the use of them we
may be "changed into the divine image, from glory to glory."
(4.) Perseverance is required notwithstanding all temptations
that may allure or terrify us from our duties; whatever affects us
one way or other, while we are clothed with frail flesh. It is
the fundamental principle of Christianity declared by our Sav-
iour, "If any man will come after me," that is, be my disciple
494
OF HEAVEN.
sa-
and servant, " let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and
follow me;" even to be crucified with him, rather than wilfully
forfeit his integrity and loyalty to Christ. He must by a
cred fixed resolution divest himself of all things, even the most
valued and desirable in the present world, and actually forsake
them, nay entertain what is most distasteful, "and resist unto
blood," rather than desert his duty.
1. He must with unfainting patience continue in doing his du-
ty, notwithstanding all miseries and calamities, losses, disgraces,
torments, or death itself, which wicked men, and greater ene-
mies, the powers of darkness, can inflict upon him. To them
who by patient continuance in welldoing, seek for glory, honor
and immortality, eternal life is promised, Rom. 2. He that en-
dures to the end (notwithstanding the most terrible sufferings to
which he is exposed for Christ's sake,) shall be saved, Mat. 10.
22. In this a christian must be the express image of his Saviour;
"who for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross,
despised the shame, and is set down at the right hand of God."
Disgrace and pain are evils that human nature has a most tender
sense of; yet the Son of God, with a divine generosity and
constancy, endured them in the highest degrees. He was scorn-
ed as a feigned king, and a false prophet. He suffered a bloody
death, and by the cross ascended to glory. And we must follow
him if we desire to be where he is.
2. But this is not the only trial of a christian. Prosperity is
a more dangerous enemy, to the soul, though adversity be more
rigorous.
Sevior armis.
Incumbit luxuria. Juven.
For the spirit is excited by perils and difficulties to seek to God
for strength, and with vigilant resolute thoughts unites all his
powers to oppose them; but it is made weak and careless by
what is grateful to the sensual inclinations. It keeps close the
spiritual armor in the open encounter of dangers that threaten
its ruin, but is enticed to put it off by the caresses and blandish-
ments of the world. It does not see its enemies under the dis-
guise of a pleasant temptation. Thus sin insinuates itself, and
by stealing steps gets into the throne without observation. A
man is wounded with a pleasant temptation, as with the plague
that flies in the dark, and grace is insensibly weakened. From
hence it is, that adversity often reforms the vicious, and pros-
perity corrupts the virtuous. Now perseverance must be of
proof against fire and water, against whatever may terrify or
allure us from our duty.
* Natator amnem interpositum superaturus, exuitur, nec tamen hoc tanto
apparatu, quod se dispoliaverit, transnatabit, nisi totius corporis nisi torrentis
impetum scindat, et laborem natationis exhauriat. Paulin.
OF HEAVEN,
495
(5.) Saving perseverance excludes not all sins, but total apos-
tacy, and final impenitency, which are fatal and deadly under the
new covenant. If the righteous turneth away from his righteous-
ness, and commiteth iniquity, and doth according to all the abom-
inations that the wicked man doth, shall he live? All his right-
eousness that he hath done shall not be mentioned; in his tres-
passes that he hath trespassed, and in his sin that he hath sinned,
he shall die, Ezek. 18. 24. If any man draw back, my soul shall
have no pleasure in him, saith the Lord, Heb. 10. 38. These
threatenings imply, there is a possibility of the saints falling away
considered in themselves; but not that they are ever totally de-
serted by the Holy Spirit, and left under the reigning power of
sin. The threatenings are intended to awaken their care, and are
preservatives of them from ruin, and have a singular influence on
their perseverence. A vigilant and cautious fear establishes the
certainty of their hope. Indeed from the relics of weakness and
corruption in the saints, they sometimes actually fall into pre-
sumptuous sins, and by rebellious relapses wound conscience,
and let out much of the vital spirits, their graces and comforts.
But though the divine nature is miserably wasted by such sins,
yet it is not abolished. As after the creation of light, there was
never pure and total darknes in the world. Grace does not con-
sist in a point, but is capable of degrees. The new creature may
decline in beauty and strength, yet life remain. Between a lively
and dead faith, there may be a fainting faith; as in St. Peter, for
certainly our Saviour was heard in his prayer for him, that his
"faith should not fail” in his dreadful temptation. The saints do
not by a particular fall extinguish the first living principles of
obedience, faith and love; nor change their last end, by an entire.
turning from God to the world. In short, a single act of wicked-
ness does not reduce them into a state of unregeneracy: for it is
not the matter of the sin singly considered, but the disposition of
the sinner that denominates him. If grace in the saints should
utterly perish, as some boldly assert, their recovery would be im-
possible: for the Aopstle tells us, that "if those who are enlight-
ened, and had tasted of the heavenly gift," that had been under
some common workings, and lower operations of the spirit, if such
fall away universally, and live in a course of sin opposite to their
former illuminations and resolutions, it is impossible to renew
them by repentance; how much more then if those who were
truly sanctified by the Holy Spirit, should entirely lose all those
gracious habits planted in them in their regeneration? But Da-
vid, though guilty of adultery and murder, sins of so foul a nature
as would dishonor paganism itself, and "made the enemies of God
to blaspheme," was restored by repentance.
The gospel pro-
pounds a remedy, not only for sins committed before conversion,
but after it. "If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Fa-
ther, Jesus Christ the righteous." God does not revoke the
496
OF HEAVEN.
adoption, nor reverse the justification of a believer, but upon
scandalous disorders, the effects of justification are suspended
with respect to the new contracted guilt, until there be sincere
and actual repentance. He is not disinherited, but his right to
the kingdom of heaven is eclipsed as to the comfortable sense of
it, nay suspended, till by renovation he is qualified and made fit
for the enjoyment of that pure inheritance. For those sins which
are a just cause of excommunicating an offender from the church
on earth, would exclude him from the kingdom of heaven without
repentance. Our Saviour tells us, "what is bound on earth, is
ratified in heaven." And the Apostle expressly declares of those
kinds of sin for which professors must be removed from the com-
munion of saints here, that they are an exclusive bar from the
kingdom of heaven. But I have written to you, not to keep
company, if any that is called a brother be a fornicator, or cove-
tous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner;
with such a one, no not to eat, 1 Cor. 5. 11. And know ye not
that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be
not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolators, nor adulterers,
nor effeminate, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor
extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God, 1 Cor. 6. 9, 10.
If one that is truly a child of God fall into any of these sins,
till by an extraordinary repentance he is prepared for pardon, he
cannot obtain it, nor have a comfortable hope of entering into
heaven. For only those "who are justified, are glorified." In-
deed it is not imaginable where "the seed of God remains," the
vital principle of grace, as it does in "all that are born of God,"
but that notorious sins that cannot be concealed from the view of
conscience, will cause stings and sorrows proportionable to their
malignity, and consequently a hatred and forsaking of them. Now
perseverance principally respects the end of our course: there
may be interruptions in the way for a time; but if with renewed
zeal and diligence we prosecute our blessed end, we shall not fall
short of it.
"λ
II. I come now to consider the second thing propounded, the
reason why preseverence is requisite in all that will obtain eter-
nal life; and it is this, that their sincerity may be discovered by
constancy in obedience under all trials. "Blessed is the man
that endures temptation, for when he is tried, he shall receive the
crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love
him." The law requireth unsinning obedience as the condition
of life, the promise that gives right to the reward. Now sinceri-
ty implies such an entire love of God, as makes a person submit
to all duties commanded in his law, and all trials appointed by
his providence. A high example we have of this in Abraham,
when he was commanded to offer up his only son Isaac, and by
his own hands, for a burnt-offering. This was to kill a double
sacrifice at one blow; for the life of Abraham was bound up
in
OF HEAVEN.
497
Isaac: he lived in him more dearly than in himself; all his joy,
all his posterity by Sarah had died in Isaac. What resentments,
what resistance of nature did he suffer? Yet presently he ad-
dressed himself to perform his duty. Who ever saw a more glo-
rious victory over all the tender and powerful passions of human
nature? O unexampled obedience! being an original without any
precedent to imitate, and without a copy to succeed it. After
this clear infallible testimony of his sincerity, the angel declared
from heaven, "Now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou
hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me." And it is
said concerning the followers of the Lamb, that "they loved not
their lives unto the death." The love of Christ that animated
them in all their sufferings, was sweeter than life, and stronger
than death.
*
Indeed there was a wonderful difference in the behaviour of
the martyrs under sufferings, but in all, the same persevering
grace was evident though working variously. Some in the most
beautiful flower of their age encountered fire and sword, torment-
ers and torments, with that sensible joy, with those songs of
praise to Christ, as if they saw the heavens open with St. Ste-
phen, and their Saviour ready to receive and crown them. But
many others, as Chrysostom testifies, went to the tribunals, to
the theatres, to death, with many appearances of fear. Upon
hearing the wild beasts roar, they were struck with horror; at
the sight of the executioners and the instruments of torment,
they were pale and trembling. The flesh seemed to cry out,
"O let this cup pass from me;" yet weak and faint, it followed
the spirit, that corrected the natural desire, with "not my will,
but thine be done." As the moon in eclipse, though obscure,
yet goes on in a regular course, as when it is full of light by the
reflection of the sun so those desolate matyrs, though as it were
forsaken, and deprived of the bright beams of comfort, yet perse-
vered in their profession of the truth. When one word to re-
nounce Christianity would have saved them, no torments could
force it from them, but they patiently endured all. Now in these
the combat of nature was visible, and the admirable power of
grace. They first overcame their own fears, the reluctancy of
the carnal part, their affection to whatever is desirable in the
world, which is the noblest victory, and then the cruelty of their
persecutors. In them was verified the testimony of the spirit,
"Here is the patience of the saints: here are they that keep the
command of God, and the faith of Jesus.
But how many appear faithful, while their faith is not to be
shewed by difficult works, and proved by sufferings? The seed
that fell on the stony ground, sprang up as hopeful as the seed
in the good ground at first; but when tribulation came, it with-
* Homil. 6. de laud. Paul.
VOL. I.
63
498
OF HEAVEN.
ered away, wanting the root of sincerity. And that which was
sown among thorns, was choked by the cares and pleasures of
the world. Some lust in the heart interweaves with the affections,
and causes apostacy. How many from glorious beginnings, have
made a lamentable end? Not only mercenaries in religion,
whose zeal was a foreign complexion, not springing from an in-
ward principle of life and health, relinquish even the profession
of Godliness, when their gain ceases; but some who have
thought themselves sincere, yet in times of danger their resolu-
tions, like the morning dew, have suddenly vanished. As the
foolish builder that computed not the charges of his designed
work, began to raise a magnificent structure, but unable to finish
it, laid the foundation in his own shame. They repented their
choice of heaven when they saw what it must cost them, and
would save the world with the loss of their souls.
*
Others that began in the spirit, and with raised affections set
out in the ways of Godliness, yet by the allurements of sensual
lusts and temptations, (and therefore with greater guilt) leave
their first love, and end in the flesh. They fall from high pos-
session, but, deceived by soft pleasure, feel not the fall. These
were never sincere, and never had a right to heaven. They
took up sudden resolutions, not grounded in serious and deep
thoughts, and for a flash were hot and active, but with great le-
vity return to their former lusts. The Apostle tells us of such,
"It had been better for them they had not known the way of
righteousness, than to turn back and voluntarily to forsake it."
It is observed that boiling water taken off from the fire, congeals
more strongly than that which was never heated: because the
subtile parts being evaporated by the fire, the more terrestrial
parts remaining are more capable of cold. So those who have
felt the power of the word in their affections, and afterwards
lose that holy heat, become more hardened in their sins. God
justly withdraws his grace, and the evil spirit that was expelled
for a time, returns with seven worse, and aggravates his tyranny.
To conclude; since the certainty of salvation is conditional,
if we persevere in a holy state, let us beware of a corrupt con-
fidence, and a vicious dejection of spirit, the trusting in our-
selves, or distrusting God. To prevent the trusting in ourselves,
consider,
1. The most excellent creatures are by the instability of na-
ture liable to defection, subject to a corruptive change. Of this
the fallen angels are a dreadful example, who of their own mo-
tion, untempted, sinned in heaven.
* Quæ justior venia in omnibus causis, quam voluntarius, an quam invitus
peccator implorat? Negationem quanta compellunt, ingenia carnificum, et
genera pœnarum? Quis magis negavit, qui christum vexatus, an qui delect-
atus amisit? Qui quum amitteret doluit, an qui quum amitteret lusit? Tert.
de pudicit.
OF HEAVEN.
499
2. The danger is greater of failing away, when they are urged
and solicited by a violent or great temptation. Thus our first
parents fell, and lost more grace in an hour, than can be reco-
vered by their posterity in all ages to the end of the world.
3. When there is supervenient corruption in the creatures,
that inclines them with earnest propensity to forbidden things,
and takes flame from every spark, the danger is extreme. Like
a besieged city that is in great hazard of taking, by assaults from
without, and conspiracies from within. Let us therefore be very
watchful over our hearts and senses, and keep as much as is
possible at a safe distance from temptations; and be very dili-
gent in the use of all holy means to confirm and fortify our reso-
lutions for heaven. God promised to Hezekiah fifteen years,
but not to preserve his life by miracle; he was obliged to repair
the wastings of nature by daily food, and to abstain from what
was noxious and destructive to his body. The Apostle excites
christians "to work out their own salvation with fear and trem-
bling; for it is God that works in them to will and to do of his
good pleasure. Let him that stands take heed lest he fall."
None are a more easy conquest to the tempter, than those who
presume upon their own strength. We should be always jealous
of ourselves, from the sad examples of apostacy in every age.
St. Ambrose testifies from his own knowledge, that many after
the courageous enduring of cruel torments for religion, the tear-
ing open their sides that their bowels appeared, and the burning
of some parts of their bodies; yet when led forth to finish the
"victory of faith," to be a triumphant "spectacle to angels and
men," when the blessed rewarder was ready to put the martyrs'
crown on their heads, at the sight of their mourning wives and
children in the way, were overcome by pity, the weakest affec-
tion and failed in the last act of christian fortitude.
"We must
pray to be strengthened with all might, according to his glorious
power, unto all patience and long-suffering with joyfulness." For
some may vigorously resist one sort of temptation, and render
themselves to others. And if finally vanquished by one of those
enemies, we lose our victory and crown.
And as presumption betrays the soul into the devil's snares, so
a vicious dejection of spirit from a distrust of relief from God in
our difficulties, and his assistance with our unfeigned endeavors
for salvation, is very pernicious. For this damps industry, and
causes either a total neglect, or uncomfortable use of means for
that end. Many christians considering their graces are weak,
their nature fickle and apt to revolt, and ready (as David said,
* Deniq; sæpe cognovimus, quoniam quem formidolosa carnificum pompa
non terruit, nec devisi lateris sulcus infregit, nec ardentes laminæ à triumpha-
lis fortitudinis vigore abducere potuerunt, eum inter sacra præmia constitu-
tum, uxor teneræ prolis oblatione, miserabilis unius lacrymæ miseratione de-
cepit.
500
OF HEAVEN.
;
sup-
"One day I shall perish by the hand of Saul)" to conclude sadly
of the issue of their condition. To encourage such, let them
consider, that perseverance is not only a condition, but a privi-
lege of the covenant of grace; for that assures us of supply of
spiritual strength to the sincere believer, for performing the con-
dition it requires. Indeed, if grace were the mere product of
free-will, the most fervent resolutions would vanish into a lie,
upon the assault of an overpowering temptation: as Hezekiah
acknowledged, that the Assyrian kings had "destroyed the gods
of the nations, that were no gods, but idols, the work of men's
hands." But sanctifying grace is the effect of the Holy Spirit;
and he that "begins that good work in the saints, will perform it
until the day of Jesus Christ." He that inclined them joyfully
to choose the spiritual eternal good, will bind their unconstant
hearts, that by a faithful adherence they shall cleave to their duty
and felicity. God hath most graciously declared, "I will put my
Spirit into their heart, that they shall never depart from me."
The promise is founded in the unchangeable love of God to his
people. Were God, as man, subject to variation, there might be
jealousies in believers, lest they should lose his good will: as
those who depend on princes are suspicious, lest from the natur-
al inconstancy of the human will, a new favorite should
plant them. "But whom God loves, he loves to the end." The
Apostle prays for the Thessalonians, that "God would preserve
them blameless until the coming of Christ ;" by this considera-
tion, "Faithful is he that calleth you, he will do it." He speaks
of the internal call, that opens the heart, and overpowers all re-
sistance as when the angel came with a light shining in the
prison to St. Peter, and struck him on the side, bid him arise.
quickly, loosed his chains, and led him through the guards, open-
ed the doors, and restored him to liberty. The effectual calling of a
sinner, is the visible and infallible effect of electing mercy; and
God is unchangeable in his own purpose, and faithful to his
promises, of bringing all such by sanctification to glory. The
same Apostle tells the saints at Corinth, That the Redeemer
would confirm them to the end: "God is faithful, by whom ye
are called." Grace that was at first inspired, is continually ac-
tuated by the spirit, who is styled "the earnest of the saints' in-
heritance." So that whereas the angels that excelled in strength,
kept not their first state of purity and glory, but are sunk into
corruption and misery; yet true humble believers, though weak,
and encompassed with many difficulties, shall be preserved from
destructive evil, and raised to an unchangeable estate of perfec-
tion. This is truly admirable, as if the stars should fall from
heaven, and clods of earth ascend and shine in the firmament.
The Apostle, who acknowledged his insufficiency of himself to
think a good thought, yet triumphantly declares, I can do all
things (within the compass of his duty) through Christ that
OF HEAVEN.
501
strengthens me. The love, fidelity, and power, of God, are a
sure fountain of assistance to every christian, that sincerely re-
solves and endeavors to prosecute his last and blessed end.
1
CHAPTER XI.
Directions to fix the choice aright. The danger from the senses, and the
fancy, of perverting our choice. The power of fancy considered. The
carnal affections are the worst counsellors. The senses and carnal affec-
tions are uncapable of apprehending spiritual things: they are deceitful,
and very numerous and clamorous. The general example of men is cor-
ruptive of our judgments about worldly things. It is foolish to be direct-
ed by the multitude, in an affair of eternal moment. The universal judg-
ment of worldly men, in their last serious hours, is considerate, and to be
believed.
I shall now come to the direction to fix our choice aright.
This is a matter of everlasting consequence; it therefore be-
comes us with the most intense application of mind to consider
it, and according to the advice of wisdom, to "keep the heart
with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life."
:
Indeed, the choice were not difficult between lying vanities
and substantial blessedness, if uncorrupted reason had the supe-
rior sway; but in this lapsed state of nature, the understanding
and will are so depraved, that present things (pleasing to sense)
ravish the heart into a compliance. Men are deceived, not com-
pelled into ruin the subtile seducer prevails by fair temptations.
This will be evident, by reflecting upon the frame and composi-
tion of man, as he consists of spirit, soul and body, and the man-
ner of his acting. The spirit is the intellective discerning faculty,
the seat of reason, capable to compare and judge of the qualities
of things, and foresee their issues. The body includes the lower
faculties, the senses, fancy and passions, that are conversant
about present things. The soul is the will, the principle of elec-
tion, in the midst of the other, as the centre to which all their
addresses flow. Now upon the proposal of the spiritual and carnal
good, in order to choice, the will is to be directed by the mind,
and by its own authority to rule the lower passions: but alas !
the mind has lost its primitive light and purity, vigilance and
integrity; neglects its duty, and from ignorance, error and carnal
prejudices, often pleads for the flesh; and the will, the rational
appetite, is voluntarily subordinate, and enslaved by the sensi-
tive. From hence it is, that in the competition, heaven (with
502
OF HEAVEN.
all its glory) is despised, and the present world embraced. To
open this more particularly, consider,
1. The senses can only taste and enjoy grosser dreggy plea-
sures.
2. The fancy that depends upon them in its operations, and is
guided by their report, conceives of felicity only under the no-
tion of sensitive pleasure. We may illustrate this by the prac-
tice of Aretius a painter, recorded with infamy; who being
often employed to paint the goddesses to be set in the Pagan
temples, always drew their pictures by the faces and complexions
of his harlots, that the objects of his impure love might have ven-
eration, and divinity attributed to them, under the titles and pre-
tence of Minerva, Juno, Diana, and the other goddesses adored
by the heathens. This impiety in an idolater, is resembled by
men who fancy happiness (that is, a spiritual divine perfection,
enjoyed in the glorious vision of God) to be a carnal fruition,
and having with sensible colors, and lineaments represented it
agreeable to their brutish faculties, placed it in their hearts, and
sacrifice all their thoughts, affections and service to it.
The fancy is very powerful in men upon a double account:
1. The understanding naturally receives the notions of things
by phantasms, that are still mixing in its contemplations. While
the soul is confined to a tabernacle of flesh, it apprehends no
object without the precedent excitation of the senses: from
whence it is impossible, that a person absolutely deprived of
sight from his birth, should have an idea of light, or colors;
or that is born deaf, should conceive what sound is; the sense
never having imparted an account of it to them. And the im-
age of the object is not immediately transmitted from the sense
to the mind, but first to the imagination, that prepares it for its
view. And from hence the sensual fancy is so predominant in
swaying the judgment, and inclining the will. As those coun-
sellors of state that have the ear of the prince, and are con-
tinually with him, by specious informations, and disguising truth,
influence him to approve or reject persons and things, according
to the various aspects given by them. The same object propoun-
ded in a dark confused manner, weakly moves us; but varnished
and beautified with lively and pleasant colors by the imagination,
is armed with such power that ravishes the esteem of the mind,
and consent of the will. Now celestial happiness being purely
spiritual, "such as eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor enter-
ed into the heart of man to conceive;" though some discoveries
be made of it by revelation, yet the imagination makes such an
obscure detracting idea of it, that it effects no more, than a dead
* Flagitio insigni, semper alicujus fœminæ amore flagrans, et ob id deas
pingens sub dilectarum imagine. Itaque scorta ejus venerabantur, Plin.
OF HEAVEN.
503
shadow drawn in some imperfect lines of an exquisite beauty:
But when the fancy is warmed and enlivened by the presence of
sensible objects, it makes a vigorous impression of them upon the
mind, and that represents the pictures of pleasure as very lovely
and delightful to the will, which presently embraces them.
2. The fancy has a marvellous force upon the sensitive appe-
tite, that eagerly desires what is represented as pleasant, though
the enlightened mind sees through the temptation, and knows it is
a mere dream, that brings neither solid nor durable joy. One in
a fever is pleased by imagining fountains and streams, though he
knows that imaginary waters cannot quench his thirst, nor afford
the least real refreshment. Now the sensitive appetite being
inflamed by the fancy, imparts a contagious fire to the will, and
that induces the mind either to concur with it, and palliate the
deceit, and to judge favorably according to its inclinations, or
makes it slack or remiss in its office, diverting the thoughts from
what might controul the appetite or if the understanding still con-
tradicts, yet it is in so cold and speculative a manner, that “the
law of the members" rebels against the superior light, and is too
strong "for the law of the mind;" and that saying is verified,
:
Video meliora, proboque;
Deteriora sequor:
I see what is worthy to be chosen, but pursue what is to be ab-
horred. Thus miserably weak are the rational guiding powers in
man since his fall, thus imperious and violent the brutish faculties.
In short, illusion and concupiscence are the principal causes why
the most noble and divine good is undervalued and rejected, in
comparison of inferior transitory vanities. O the cheap damna-
tion of beguiled souls! A mess of pottage was more valuable to
Esau, than the birthright that had annexed to it the regal and
priestly dignity. Unwise and unhappy wretches! "that follow
lying vanities, and forsake their own mercies."
Thus I have briefly set down the process of men's foolish
choice in this degenerate state. Now that we may with a free
uncorrupted judgment compare things, in order to a wise
choice of true felicity, it follows from what has been said, that as
the Apostle in obeying his heavenly commission, "conferred not
with flesh and blood," we must not, in this matter of infinite im-
portance, attend,
[1] To the suggestions and desires of the senses and carnal
appetites; which are the worst counsellors, as being uncapable of
judging what is our proper happiness, deceitful and importunate.
(1.) They are incapable of apprehending spiritual eternal
things, which alone bring true and complete satisfaction to the
soul; and cannot look forward to the end of sinful pleasures, and
balance the terrible evils they leave at parting, with the slight
vanishing content that springs from their presence: Therefore as
504
OF HEAVEN.
blind persons lay hold on things they feel, so the sensitive facul-
ties (that are blind and brutish) adhere to gross present enjoy-
ments, not understanding the pure spotless felicity that is to come,
and despising what they do not understand. Now who would,
in an affair upon which his all depends, advise with children and
fools; whose judgment of things is without counsel, their coun-
sel without discourse, their discourse without reason? There is
nothing more contrary to the order of nature, than for men that
should affect with judgment, to judge by their affections.
(2.) The carnal appetite with its lusts are very deceitful; a
party within holding correspendence with our spiritual enemies,
the armies of evil angels, so active and assiduous in conspiring and
accomplishing the damnation of men. The Devil, in Scripture,
is called the tempter by way of eminence, who manages and im-
proves temptations; and his pernicious design is, by the objects of
sense, ordered and made more alluring and killing by his various
arts, to engage the affections into a compliance, and so to gain the
will. Now our great danger is not so much from Satan, the enemy
without, as from the carnal appetite, the traitor within, that gives
him the first and easy entrance into the soul. He can only en-
tice, by representing what is amiable to sense; but the corrupt
appetite inclines to the closing with it.. He tempted Jesus Christ,
but was repelled with shame, having found nothing within him
to work upon. The perfect regularity of faculties in our blessed
Saviour, was not in the least disordered, neither by the fairest in-
sinuations, or most furious assaults: and we might preserve our
innocence inviolable, notwithstanding all his attempts, did not
some corrupt affection, cherished in our bosoms, lay us naked
and open to his poisoned darts. The Apostle Peter, who had a
spiritual eye, and discerned wherein the strength of our great en-
emy lies, admonishes christians; "Dearly beloved, I beseech
you, as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, that
war against the soul." And we are told by him, that "the cor-
ruption that is in the world, is through lust." The outward ob-
jects are useful and beneficial in their kind; the abuse of them is
from lust. The poison is not in the flower, but in the spider. It
is therefore infinitely dangerous, to consult or trust our carnal
faculties in this matter, for they are bribed and corrupted, and
will commend temporal things to our choice.
(3.) The sensual affections are so numerous and clamorous, so
vehement and hasty, that if they are admitted to counsel, and
give the decisive vote, the voice of conscience will not be heard
or regarded. In concernments of a lower nature, it is constant-
ly seen, that nothing more disturbs reason, and makes men im-
provident and precipitant in their determinations, than a disor-
dered passion. From hence, it is a prudent rule, that as it is not
fit to eat in the height of a fever, because the meat feeds the
disease, by increasing the feverish, not the vital heat; so it is
OF HEAVEN.
505
not good to deliberate in the heat of any affection; for then
the thoughts strongly blow up the passion, and smother reason,
and the mind is rather a party than a judge: but after the declin-
ation of that fever in the soul, in a quiet interval, it is seasonable
to consider. Now if any simple passion, when moved, transports
and confounds the mind, and makes it uncapable of judging aright;
much more the love of the world, a universal passion that reigns
in men, and has so many swarming desires answerable to the va-
riety of sensible things, and therefore is more unruly, lasting and
dangerous, than any particular passion. In short, sensual affec-
tions captivate the mind, and hinder its due considering the folly
and obliquity of the carnal choice, and when incensed, (as dis-
tracted persons whose strength grows with their fury) violently
break all the restraints the understanding can apply from reason
and revelation.
[2.] In order to make a right choice, we must be very watch-
ful lest the general example of men taint our reason, and cause
an immoderate esteem of temporal things. "The whole world
lies in wickedness," in a sensual sty, without conscience of its
misery, or care of regaining its happiness; deceived and pleased
with shews of felicity. The way to hell is broad, as the inclina-
tions of the licentious appetite; pleasant, as the delights of
sense; so plain and easy, that men go to it blindfold; and so fre-
quented, that it would force tears from any considering person,
to see men so hasty to meet with damnation. When Calisto the
harlot reproached Socrates, that there were more followers of her
beauty, than his wisdom; the philosopher replied, that was not
strange, because it was much easier to draw them in the way of
pleasure, that is steep and slippery, than to constrain them to as-
cend to virtue, seated on a hill, where the ascent is slow, and
with toil and difficulty. Now there is nothing more contagious
than example: We blindly consent with the multitude, and are
possessed with foolish wonder, and carnal admiring of worldly
greatness, treasures and delights, neglecting to make a due esti-
mation of things. It is the ordinary artifice of the devil, to ren-
der temporal things more valuable and attractive to particular
persons, from the common practice of men who greedily pursue
them as their happiness: as some crafty merchants, by false re-
ports, raise the exchange, to advance the price of their own wares.
The men of the world are under the direction of sense, and think
them only to be wise and happy that shine in pomp, abound
in riches, and overflow in pleasures. The Psalmist tells us of
the prosperous worldling, "that while he lives, he blesses his
soul; and men will praise thee when thou dost well to thyself."
By vicious imitation our judgments are more corrupted, and our
passions raised to higher degrees for painted vanities. The af-
fections in the pursuit of earthly things, are inflamed by the con-
tention of others. And when holy desires and resolutions spring
VOL. I.
64
506
OF HEAVEN.
up in men, yet so powerful is the custom of the world, that they
often become ineffectual. As a ship whose sails are filled with a
fair wind, but makes no way, stopped by the force of the current.
Now to fortify us against the pernicious influence of example,
consider,
1. It is most unreasonable in this affair of so vast moment, to
be under the direction of the multitude. For the most are sot-
tish and sensual, governed by the uncertain motion of a giddy
voluble fancy, and roving impetuous passion; so that to be led
by their example, and disregard the solid immortal rules of hea-
venly wisdom, is as perfect madness, as for one to follow a herd
of swine through the mire, and leave a clean path that lies be-
fore him. If there were but a few in an age or country that
were deluded with false appearances, it would be a disgrace to
imitate the practice of the foolish and shall the great numbers
of the earthly minded give reputation and credit to their error?
He were a strange fool indeed, that should refuse a single piece
of counterfeit money, and receive a great heap in payment: as
if the number added a real value to them. It is therefore a
necessary point of wisdom to divest all * vulgar prejudices, to
separate ourselves from the multitude, that we may see the vani-
ty of things that dazzle inferior minds.
2. Consider the universal judgment even of worldly men in
their last and serious hours, when the prospect of eternal things
is open before them. How vastly different are their apprehen-
sions of temporal things in the review, from what they were in
their vicious desires? How often do they break forth in the
sorrowful words of the Apostle, "We have been toiling all
night, and caught nothing?" When there are but a few remain-
ing sands in the glass of time, and death shakes the glass before
them, how powerfully do they preach of the emptiness and un-
certainty of things below, and sigh out in Solomon's phrase,
"All is vanity?" And this is more singularly observable in those
who have had the fullest enjoyment of earthly things. How do
they complain of the vain world, and their vainer hearts, when
experience has convinced them of their woful folly? Solomon,
who was among other princes as the sun in the midst of the
planets, that obscures them by his illustrious brightness: he
that had surveyed this continent of vanity, to make an experi-
ment whether any satisfaction could be found in it, at last sadly
declares, that all things here below are but several kinds and
ranks of vanities, as ineffectual to make men happy, as counter-
feit jewels of several colors are to enrich the possessor. Nay,
they are not only vanity, but vexation, an empty shew that has
nothing real, but the vexation of disappointment. And shall we
* Nonquam de vita judicatur, semper creditur, sanabimur, si modo sepa-
Sen. de vit. Beat.
remur à cætu.
OF HEAVEN.
507
not value the judgment of men when they are best instructed,
and give credit to their testimony when they are sincere? Cer-
tainly in their approaches to the divine judgment they are most
considerate and serious, they have the truest and justest thoughts
of things, and most freely declare them. O the astonishing folly
of men! they will not be convinced of the error of their ways,
till they come to the end of them, and the sun is set, and no
time remains for their returning into the way of life.
I shall proceed to shew further what is necessary to direct
us in our choice, that we may not fall into the double misery, of
being deceived with a false happiness for a little time, and de-
prived of true happiness forever.
CHAPTER XII.
A steadfast belief of unseen eternal things is necessary to direct our choice.
Faith realizes things future, and controls the efficacy of present tempta-
tions. The neglect of the great salvation proceeds from infidelity. The
most that are believers in title, are infidels in their hearts. Consideration is
necessary in order to a wise choice. It must be serious and deliberate;
frequent, and with application to the soul. Motives to consideration. It
is the noblest exercise of the mind, and most profitable.
First, a sound and steadfast belief of unseen eternal things.
Secondly, serious consideration of the vast difference between
things that are the objects of sight, and that are the objects of
faith.
[1.] The sound and steadfast belief of eternal things, is re-
quisite to direct our choice aright. Faith is the substance of
things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, Heb. 11. 1.
It assures us of their reality and worth, as if they were before
our eyes, and in our actual possession. This divine light governs
and conducts the will to choose wisely, and excites all the prac-
tic powers for the preventing the greatest evils, and the obtain-
ing perfect felicity. When the devil, the deadly flatterer, by
inviting representations of the world, entices the heart, the se-
rious belief of the future reward, so glorious and eternal, dis-
graces the most splendid temptations, and makes them ineffectual.
"This is the victory that overcomes the world, even our faith."
If tempted to lasciviousness by the allurements of an earthly
beauty, faith represents the angelical lustre of the saints, when
they shall come with the unspotted lamb in his glorious appear-
ance; and this unbinds the charm, and makes the tempting per-
508
OF HEAVEN.
son an object, not of desire, but aversation. If tempted with
honor to a sinful compliance, faith represents so convincingly the
glory which all those who preserve their conscience and integ-
rity inviolable, shall receive all the universal judgment, in the
presence of God and the holy angels, (as our Saviour has
promised, "He that serves me, him will my Father honor)"
and the confusion wherein the most honorable sinners shall then
be covered, that with a generous disdain all secular honors will
be dispised. And it is as powerful to enervate the temptation
of temporal profit. We read of Moses, that "by faith, when
he was come to years, (and therefore more capable to understand
and enjoy what felicity the brightest honors and greatest riches.
could afford) refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter;
choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than
to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; esteeming the re-
proach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt:
for he had respect to the recompense of reward." And all the
evils which a wicked world (inspired with rage from Satan) can
threaten, to fright us from our duty, poverty, disgrace, banish-
ment, nay, torments and death, those terribiles visu formæ, so
heightened by the carnal fancy, are easily overcome by a sincere
and strong believer. Thus some who were urged by such mo-
tives to renounce their religion, told the persecutors, that * life
was not sweet to them, if they might not live christians, nor
death bitter, if they must die for Christ. A lively firm persua-
sion of the excellence and eternity of the reward, what miracu-
lous effects would it produce? Nothing would be impossible
within the compass of our duty, either to do or suffer, in order
to a glorious immortality. Faith has a celestial power, a mag-
netic virtue, to draw up the heart from the earth, and fasten it
to things above. It is not imaginable, that a clear sighted soul,
that sees a good infinitely great, should reject it for mean things,
to please the lower desires: we may as probably imagine, that
a skilful jeweller would part with the richest oriental pearls, for
cherry stones to play with children.
From hence we may discover the true cause of the neglect of
the great salvation offered in the gospel; "The word preached
does not profit, not being mixed with faith in them that hear
it." It is astonishing to consider, that earth should contend with
heaven for our affections, and prevail against it; that vanity
should turn the scale against the "exceeding and eternal weight
of glory;" that men should pursue fleeting shadows, and neglect
the most excellent realities; as if they could be happy here,
and continue here forever, and hereafter there were neither hap-
piness nor eternity. But this releases the wonder, that "all
men have not faith." Eternal things are not of conspicuous mo-
* Nec vereamur occidi, quos constat, quando occidimur, coronari. Cyp.
OF HEAVEN.
509
ment in the carnal balance. Some are infidels in profession,
openly declaring themselves to be without religion, without God;
and have the same credit of the heaven and hell discovered in
the gospel, as if the Elysian fields, and Stygian lake, the fables
of the poets. These live as if they should never die, and die as if
they should never live in the other world; as if death caused so
deep a sleep, that the voice of the Son of God could not awaken
them at the last day. Their unbelief is not from reason, but
vicious opposite affections; for the truth of the eternal state is
so clearly revealed, and strongly established in the gospel, that
the sincere mind must readily assent to it but the wicked can-
not delight in the discovery of that for which they are unpre-
pared, and therefore try all ways to elude the force of the most
satisfying arguments. Their infidelity is obstinate and incurable:
an instance whereof we have in the Pharisees, who rejected
our Saviour. Though all the characters of the Messiah were
conspicuous in his person, though his doctrines were confirmed
by miracles, yet they would not yield up themselves to that
omnipotent conviction; so strong were their carnal prejudices
against his humble state, and holy doctrines. That reproach is
more justly due to infidels under the gospel, than to Israel in the
prophet; "Who is blind as my servant?" The heathens who
are blind from their birth, and have only some glimmering ap-
prehensions that eternity succeeds time, are less culpable than
those who have infinitely more reason to believe it, and yet be-
lieve it less. The plea for them will be a terrible accusation
against such unbelievers. If a blind person falls, it moves com-
passion; but if one voluntarily shuts his eyes against the sun,
and refuses the direction of the light, and falls from a precipice,
his ruin is the just consequence of his folly. Simple ignorance
excuses as to the degrees of the fault, but affected wilful igno-
rance, now reason and revelation with united beams give so clear
a prospect into the eternal world, aggravates the guilt and sen-
tence of such unbelievers.
Besides, the most that are believers in title, are infidels in
heart. Our Saviour tells the Jews, who pretended the highest
veneration to the writings of Moses, "That if they had believed
Moses, they would have believed him, for Moses wrote of him.”
If men did seriously believe such an excellent reward as the
gospel propounds, would it be a cold unpersuasive motive to
them? The depravation of the will argues a correspondent de-
fect in the mind; though not absolute total infidelity, yet such a
weakness and wavering in the assent, that when temptations are
present and urgent, and it comes to actual choice, sense prevails
over faith. This will be clear by universal experience in tem-
poral things. The probable hope of gain will make those who
are greedy of gold, prodigal of their lives, and venture through
tempestuous seas to accomplish their desires. And if the be-
510
OF HEAVEN.
lief were equal, would not men do or suffer as much for obtain-
ing what is infinitely more valuable? A firm assent would pro-
duce adherence, and faith in the promises, fidelity in obeying
the commands of Christ. Tertullian propounds it as a power-
ful incentive to the martyrs, quis ergo non libentissime tantum
pro vero habeat erogare, quantum alii pro falso? Who would
not joyfully sacrifice life and all its endearments, to obtain true
blessedness, which others do for the vain appearance of it?
Men may be as truly subjects without subjection, as believers
without a heavenly conversation, which is inseparable from the
reality of faith. Many in the bosom of the church are as truly,
though not so notoriously, infidels, as Turks and Heathens. In-
deed even in true believers, the apprehension of eternal things
has such great allays, that temporal things are over valued and
over feared. A strong faith in the truth and power of God,
would make the glorious world so sure and near in our thoughts,
that with indifferent affections we should receive good or evil
things here; "Rejoice as if we rejoiced not, and mourn as if
we mourned not." Our lives would be so regular and pure, as
if the judge were to come the next hour, as if the sun did now
begin to be darkened, and the trumpet of the archangel were
sounding, and the noise of the dissolving world were universally
heard, infidelity deads the impression, and suppresses the reign-
ing power of eternal things in our hearts. In short, men are
heavenly or earthly in their choice and conversation, as they are
directed by the sincere light of faith, or misled by the false
beams of sense.
[2.] The second thing requisite in order to a wise choice, is
consideration. For as by faith the virtue of the reward is dif
fused through all the faculties, and the powers of the world to
come are felt in the soul; so by consideration faith is exerci-
sed; and becomes effectual. This unites and reinforces the
beams of eternal truth, and inflames the affections. As the
Psalmist expresses himself, "my heart was hot within me:
while I was musing, the fire burned." Heaven is a felicity so
glorious and attractive,that if duly considered, no man can pos-
sibly refuse it and hell is a misery so extreme and fearful, that
if seriously laid to heart none can possibly choose it. The last
end is to be conceived under the notion of an infinite good,
without the least mixture of evil, to which the human will, sway-
ed by the invincible impression of nature, has a tendency. The
liberty of indifference is with respect to some particular good
things, which may be variously represented, so as to cause in-
clination or aversion. That men who believe eternal life is the
reward of holiness, yet with a careless inadvertency neglect their
duty and that eternal death is the wages of sin, yet securely
continue in it, is more wonderful than to see martyrs sing in the
flames; and the great cause of it is the neglect of consideration.
:
OF HEAVEN.
511
This is assigned to be the cause of that unnatural and astonish-
ing rebellion of Israel against God their father and sovereign:
Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth: for the Lord hath
spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have
rebelled against me. The ox knows his owner, and the ass his
master's crib but Israel doth not know, my people doth not con-
sider, Isa. 1. 2, 3.
This duty, as it is of admirable advantage, so it is universally
necessary; for all are equally concerned, and it is within the
power of all to perform. Though men cannot convert them-
selves, yet they may consider what is preparatory to conversion.
For the will may turn the thoughts of the mind to any sort of
objects.
I will briefly show the nature of this duty, and how to manage
it for spiritual profit, and those objects from whence our thoughts
derive vigor for the swaying of the will, and the conduct of the
life.
(1.) The nature of consideration is discovered by its end,
which is this; that the mind being satisfied in the just reasons
upon which the choice of heaven is to be made, the will and af-
fections may be engaged in an earnest, joyful and constant pur-
suit of it. And in this respect it differs from simple knowledge,
and naked speculation, that informs the mind, without influence
and efficacy upon the heart: like a garland of flowers that adorns
the head, without any benefit and refreshing to him that wears
it. And practical meditation differs from the study of divine
things, in order to the instructing of others. That is like a mer-
chant's buying of wine for sale, this like providing it for our own
use.
(2.) That the consideration of eternal things may be effectual,
it must be,
1. Serious and deliberate. For the affair is great in reality
above all possible conception or comparison. All other things,
how considerable soever in themselves, yet respectively and in
parallel with this, are of no account. Our Saviour told Martha,
"One thing is necessary: Mary hath chosen the better part, that
shall not be taken from her." What instance can be of equal
moment with that of entertaining the Son of God? Yet a serious
attention to the words of eternal life dropping from his lips, was
more necessary than making provision for him. The greatest
and most weighty affairs in the world are but a vain employment,
but irregularity and impertinence, in compare with eternal salva-
tion. And the greatest solemnity of thoughts is requisite to un-
deceive the mind, and engage the will for heaven. It is very
observable, that errors in judgment and choice spring from the
same causes, the not sincere and due weighing of things. In the
decisions of questions, truth is discovered by comparing, with
an equal staid attention, the reasons of the one and the other
512
OF HEAVEN.
part. But when some vicious affections contradict the truth, it
fills the mind with prejudices, that it cannot impartially search
into things, and is deceived with specious fallacies, with the im-
age of truth. For according to the present application of the
mind it is determined, and passion strongly applies it to consider
that which is for the carnal interest, and consequently inclination,
not reason, is the principle of the persuasion. And this is more
evident in men's foolish choice as the eye cannot see but what
is visible, nor to the understanding conceive what is not intelli-
gible, the will cannot love and choose what is not amiable, at
least in shew. If the Devil did appear without a disguise, he
would have no power to persuade, but in all his temptations
there is the mixture of a lie to make it pleasant. He presents.
a false perspective, to make what is but superficial appear solid
and substantial. And the carnal heart turns the thoughts to
what is grateful, without seriously considering what is infinitely
better, and accordingly chooses by the eye of sense, the happi-
ness of this world. Therefore until eternal things are opened
in the view of conscience, and the mind calmly considers by the
light of faith their reality and greatness, no right valuation, nor
wise choice can be made.
Besides, the most clear and rational enforcements by the act-
ings of the thoughts, are necessary to make a strong impression
on the affections, and rescue them from the captivity of the
flesh. In other things, as soon as the mind is enlightened, the
will resolves, and the inferior faculties obey; but such is the
resistance of the carnal heart, that although it is evident from
infallible principle there is an everlasting glory, infinitely to be
preferred above the little appearances of beauty and pleasure
here, yet the most piercing reasons enter heavily without earnest
inculcation. Slight or sudden thoughts may produce vanishing
affections of complacence, or distaste, and fickle resolutions, that
like sick feathers drop away, and leave the soul naked to the
next temptation; but solemn and fixed thoughts are powerful on
the heart, in making a thorough and lasting change. When the
clouds dissolve in a gentle shower, the earth drinks in all, and
is made fruitful; but a few sprinkling drops, or a short storm of
rain, that wets only the surface, without sinking to the root, is
little beneficial. In short, there may be some excitations to
good, and retractions from evil; some imperfect faint essays
toward heaven, from an impulse on the mind: but solid con-
version is produced by deliberate discourse, by the due consider-
ation and estimation of things, it is rational and perpetual.
2. Consideration must be frequent, to keep eternal objects.
present, and powerful upon us. Such is the natural levity and
inconstancy, sloth and carnality of the mind, that the notions of
heavenly things quickly pass through, but of earthly abide there.
If a stone be thrown upwards, it remains no longer in the air,
OF HEAVEN.
513
than the impression of the force by which it was thrown contin-
ues; but if it falls on the earth, it rests there by nature. When
the soul is raised in contemplation to heaven, how apt is it to
fall from that height, and lose the esteem, the lively remembrance
and affections of eternal things? But when the thoughts are
excited by the presence of what is pleasing to sense, the with-
drawing the object does not deface the idea of it in the memory,
nor lessen the conceit, nor cool the desires of it, because the
heart is naturally inclined to it. Therefore it is necessary every
day to refresh and renew the conceptions of eternal things, that
although they are not always in act, yet the efficacy may be al-
ways felt in the heart and life. The soul habituated to such
thoughts, will not easily yield to temptations, that surprise and
overcome others that are strangers in their minds to the other
world: nay, the presence of temptations, as by Antiperistasis,
will reinforce the resolutions for heaven; like the pouring water
upon lime, that revives a hidden fire in it, which seems a natural
miracle. It is therefore of great advantage frequently to seques-
ter ourselves from the world, to redeem time from secular af-
fairs, for the recollecting our thoughts, and their solemn exercise
upon the eternal world. Sense, that reveals natural things, dark-
ens spiritual. How can the thoughts be fixed. on invisible
things so distant from sense, if always conversant with secular
objects that draw them down? In the silence of the night, a
small voice is more distinctly heard, and a little distant light
more clearly seen: so when the soul is withdrawn from the noisy
throng of the world, and outward things are darkened, the voice.
of conscience is better heard, and the light of heaven more per-
fectly received.
3. Consideration of eternal things must be with present ap-
plication to the soul. It is not the mere conviction of the mind,
but the decree of the will that turns men from sin to holiness,
from the creatures to God. The heart is very deceitful, and by
variety of shifts and palliations is disposed to irresolutions and
delays in spiritual concernments. How often does the miserable
sinner contend with himself, and while conscience urges him to
seek the kingdom of heaven, and the affections draw down to
the earth, the carnal part prevailing over the rational, he over-
comes, and is overcome, he is convinced and condemned by
his own mind. Till consideration issues in this, that with
settled judgment and affections the soul determines for God and
heaven, it is without profit. Therefore in the managing this du-
ty, it is our wisdom not to be curious and inquisitive after sub-
tile conceptions, and exalted notions of the future state, that
little confer to the making the heart better; but to think seri-
ously on what is plain and evident, and most useful to produce
a present lasting change. It were egregious folly in a man, that
for the use of his garden, should with great labor fetch water
VOL. I.
65
514
OF HEAVEN.
from distant fountains, and neglect that which springs up in his
own ground. That meditation is profitable which produces not
new thoughts, but holy and firm resolutions of obeying God, in
order to the full enjoying of him forever.
To persuade us to the serious practice of this duty, there are
many enforcements.
Is any man so foolish, so regardless of his convenience, to
purchase a house wherein he must live all his days, and will not
first see whether it will be convenient, and secure for his habita-
tion ? Shall we not then consider heaven, the mansion of bless-
edness, and hell the seat of misery and horror? For according
as we choose here, we shall be in the one or other place forever.
I shall in the fourth part of this treatise, endeavor to represent
something of the inexpressible misery of the wicked hereafter,
and shew how congruous and powerful the thoughts of it are to
restrain men from sin; but at present shall briefly excite to the
meditation of the heavenly glory, as the most noble, delightful
and fruitful work of the soul, whilst confined to the body of flesh.
It is the most exalted exercise of the mind, the purest converse
with God, the flower of consecrated reason. It is most like the
life of glorified spirits above, who are in continual contemplation
of the divine excellencies; and it is most raised above the life of
carnal men, that are sunk into sensuality and brutishness. It is
the most joyful life, in that it sheds abroad in the soul delights
that neither satiate, nor corrupt, nor weaken the faculties, as the
delights of sense do, but afford perfection as well as pleasure. It
is the most profitable life. As in those parts of the earth where
the beams of the sun are strongly reflected, precious metals and
jewels are produced, wherein the refulgent resemblance of that
bright planet appears so the lively and vigorous exercise of the
thoughts upon the heavenly glory, will produce heavenly affec-
tions, heavenly discourses, and a heavenly shining conversation.
This will make us live like the blessed society above, imitating
their innocence and purity, their joyful, entire and constant obe-
dience to God. This confirms the holy soul in its choice, with an
invincible efficacy against the temptations and lusts of the world.
The serious considering believer is filled with ravishing wonder
of the glory that shall be revealed, and looks down with contempt
upon the earth, and all that has the name of felicity here. All the
invitations, nay, terrors of the world, are as unable to check his
pursuit of his blessed end, as the breath of an infant to stop the
high flight of an eagle.
But how rare and diffused a duty is this? How hardly are men
induced to set about it? Business and pleasures are powerful di-
versions. Some pretend business as a just cause, but in vain;
for the one thing necessary challenges our principal thoughts and
care. Besides there are intervals of leisure, and the thoughts are
always streaming, and often run waste, which directed aright
OF HEAVEN.
515
would be very fruitful to the soul. The true cause of this neg-
lect is from the inward temper of men. Carnal pleasures alienate
the mind, and make it unfit for the deep, serious actings of the
thoughts upon eternal things. "I have said of laughter, thou art
mad." It makes the mind light, and vain, and desultory. As a
distracted person by every motion of fancy flies from one thing to
another without coherence. The heart is filled with cloudy and
smoky fires, with thoughts and desires about worldy things, is un-
prepared for such a clear, calm, and sedate work. A carnal per-
son can taste no sweetness, feel no relish in the meditation of
heaven, nor any spiritual duty. It is as if one should take some
delicious fruit into his mouth, a peach, or the like, without break-
ing the skin; it would be rather a trouble, than pleasant. Nay,
the gospel expressly declaring, "That without holiness no man
shall see God:" those who by vicious affections are engaged in
any sinful way, being conscious of their guilt and unpreparedness,
and that while such, they are under a peremptory exclusion from
celestial glory, cannot endure the thoughts of heaven. The di-
vine presence is their torment, and the serious consideration of it
is to bring them before God's holy and just tribunal, to accuse
and condemn them.
CHAPTER XIII.
The objects from whence consideration derives its power to direct our choice.
The end for which man was designed in his creation. We must make a
judicious comparison between the objects that stand in competition for our
choice, the present world, and heaven. The vast difference between them
in their quality and duration.
I shall now take a particular view of those objects, from
whence consideration derives vigor, for the inclining of the will
to a right choice, and for regulating the life.
1. Consider the end for which man was designed in his crea-
tion, why endued with rational and noble powers of soul, and pla-
ced by the sovereign maker in the highest rank of so numerous
and various natures that fill the universe. Is it to raise an
estate, to shine in pomp, to enjoy sensual pleasures for a little
while, and after the fatal term to be no more forever? Was he
sent into the world upon as mean a business as that of the foolish
emperor, who employed an army, furnished with all military pre-
parations, to gather shells upon the sea-shore?
This were,
according to the passionate expostulation of the Psalmist, to
516
OF HEAVEN.
*
charge God that "he had made all men in vain." Reason and
scripture tell us, the end of man is to glorify and enjoy God; the
obtaining whereof makes him perfectly happy, and the missing of
it perfectly miserable. This is a fundamental truth, upon which
the whole fabric of man's duty and felicity is built; without
this foundation, our faith presently sinks. If the clearness of this
principle be obscured, we shall wander from the way of eternal
life, and not only lose the way, but the remembrance and desire
of it. Thinking is the property of the reasonable soul; and the
just order of consideration is, that the mind primarily regards
this supreme directive truth, that is to govern all our actions. It
was prudent counsel, that one of the ancients gave for compos-
ing a book; that the author frequently reflect upon the title, that
it may correspond in all its parts with his original design. Thus
it becomes a man often to consider the end of his being, that the
course of his life may have a direct tendency to it; and the more
excellent our end is, the more constraining is the necessity to
prosecute it. It is of great efficacy to reflect upon ourselves,
whither do my thoughts and desires tend? For what do I spend
my strength, and consume my days? Will it be my last account,
how much (by my prudence and diligence) I have exceeded oth-
ers in temporal acquisitions? If a General were at play while the
armies are engaging, would it be a noble exploit for him to win
the game, while his army, for want of conduct, loses the victory?
Will it be profitable for a man to gain the world, and lose his soul?
Let conscience answer in truth.
It is observable, what is reported of a † noble foreigner; that
on his birth-day reflecting upon the age of his life, he was sur-
prised with grief, and struck with astonishment, that, without a
due sense of the proper business and end of life, he was arrived to
that age, when our days begin to decline. In an instant, all things
seemed to change appearance in his view. Then first (says he)
I perceived I was a man, for before I had not resolved for what
I should employ my life. The issue was, his serious resolution
unfeignedly to honor God, sincerely to confess Christ, to place
his felicity in holiness of life, and most zealously to follow it.
Let any one, that is not of a reprobate mind, and an incorrigibly
depraved heart, duly consider the sublime and supernatural end
of man: O what a marvellous change will it make in him, of car-
nal into spiritual? Nay, it would be a kind of miracle if he continu-
* Primum ego scriptoris officium existimo, ut titulum suum legat, atque
identidem interrogat se, quid cœperit scribere.
+ Cum natalis dies Februarij admonuisset ætatis numerandæ, et tricessimo
reperissem, invasit me subita maestitia, et perculsit admirantem, quomodo sine
sensu vitæ ad ejus culmen pervenissem, à quo lux quælibet fit obscurior, et
dies nostri ad occasum inclinare incipiunt. Visa est mihi, rerum facies mo-
mento mutata, et tunc primum me hominem agnovi.-Memoires Chanut.
OF HEAVEN.
517
ed in his sinful state. How will it transform him into another
man, with new valuations, new affections and resolutions, as if
he were
"born again" with a new soul? How will it amaze him,
that his whole course has been a contradiction to the wise and
gracious design of God, that all his industry has been a race out
of the way, a perpetual diversion from his main business, that his
life has been fruitless and dead to the true end of it? How will
he be confounded at his former folly? Then alone we act with
understanding, when moved by our blessed end, and our actions
by a strict tendency, without variation, issue into it.
[2.] Consider attentively the objects that stand in competition
for our choice, the present world and heaven, to make a judicious
comparison between them in their quality and duration.
(1.) In their quality. The things of the world, according to
the judgment of God himself, who is only wise and good, and
has the highest authority to decide in the case, are but fallacious
appearances of happiness, mere vanity: and certainly the Creator
knows the true worth of all things, and would not disparage his
own works, but would undeceive men, that are apt to judge and
choose by the eye of sense. The Apostle tells us, "That an
idol is nothing in the world:" although the matter of it may be
of gold, or marble, or wood, yet it has no divine perfection,
which the idolater attributes to it so all worldly things, in
which men place their chief care, and confidence, and joy, though
they have some degrees of goodness, and are a transient relief to
us in our passage to eternity, yet they are nothing as to perfect
felicity. It is merely opinion and conceit that makes them so
valued and pleasing; like a rich dye to a slight stuff, from whence
its price arises. Reason is either obscured, or not obeyed, when
the world is the object of our choice. Now what are these ap-
pearances of beauty and pleasure, compared with a blessedness
that is truly infinite? Carnal joy smiles in the countenance, flat-
ters the fancy, touches the sense, but cannot fill the heart; but
the favor of God satisfies the soul: "Thou hast put gladness
into my heart, more than when their corn and wine increased."
Carnal joy, in its highest elevation, in the time of the harvest and
vintage, is incomparably less than spiritual joy, that springs from
the light of God's countenance. The world cannot fill the nar-
row capacity of our senses, but divine joys exceed our most en-
larged comprehensive faculties: "The eye is not satisfied with
seeing, nor the ear with hearing; but the peace of God passes all
understanding." The things of the world are of a limited good-
ness; wisdom is not strength, nor learning riches, nor beauty
fruitfulness but God is a universal good, in whom are all at-
tractives to raise and satisfy our desires. If men did consider,
they would distinguish and despise, in comparison, all that is
named felicity here, with the favor of God: to seek for satisfac-
tion in the creature, and forsake him, is as if one desirous to see
518
OF HEAVEN.
the light, should withdraw from the presence of the sun, to bor-
row it from a weak ray reflected by some obscure matter. Now
if there be so vast a difference in their nature, as between a
painted vapor, and the solid glorious good, between finite and
infinite; why is there not a difference accordingly in our esteem,
affections and respects to them? How unreasonable is it, that a
soul capable of God, should cleave to the dust? It would be most
egregious folly to hang a weight, that is able to turn a great en-
gine, upon a small clock: it is incomparably more foolish, when
the love of happiness, the weight of human nature, which applied
aright, will turn our desires to heaven, is only used to give vigor-
ous motion to our endeavors about earthly things.
A
(2.) Consider their duration. The Apostle tells us, that the main
scope of his actions was things invisible: and gives the reason
of it; "For the things that are seen are temporal, but the
things that are not seen are eternal;" 2 Cor. 4. 18. To insist
upon the vast difference between temporal and eternal, may seem
needless; for the first notions of things are of such uncontrola-
ble clearness, that an attempt to prove them, is to light a candle
to discover the sun. Yet this principle drawing after it such
powerful consequences for the government of our hearts and
lives, and conscience being so remiss, and the sensual affections.
so rebellious, it is needful to consider this seriously, that what
is really assented to in speculation, may not be contradicted in
practice. Now who can unfold the infinite volume of ages in
eternity? The understanding of an angel can no more compre-
hend what is incomprehensible, than the mind of a man.
snail will pass over an immense space as soon as an eagle;
for though one dispatches more way than the other, yet both
are equally distant from arriving to the end of what is end-
less. But that the conception of eternity may be more distinct
and affecting, it is useful to represent it under some temporal
resemblances, that sensibly, though not fully, express it.
pose that the vast ocean were distilled drop by drop, but so slow-
ly, that a thousand years should pass between every drop; how
many millions of years were required to empty it? Suppose this
great world in its full compass, from one pole to another, and
from the top of the firmament to the bottom, were to be filled
with the smallest sand, but so slowly, that every thousand years
only a single grain should be added; how many millions would
pass away before it were filled? if the immense superficies of
the heavens, wherein are innumerable stars, the least of which
equals the magnitude of the earth, were filled with figures of
numbers without the least vacant space, and every figure signified
a million; what created mind could tell their number, much less
their value? Having these thoughts, I reply; the sea will be
emptied drop by drop, the universe filled grain by grain; the
numbers written in the heavens will come to an end and how
Sup-
OF HEAVEN.
519
!
much of eternity is then spent? Nothing; for still infinitely
more remains. In short, whatever is temporal, extend the con-
tinuance of it to the utmost possibility of conception, is infinitely
short of eternity. A day, an hour, a minute, has some propor-
tion with a thousand years; for that duration is determined by a
certain number of days, and hours, and minutes; but millions of
ages have no proportion to eternity, because it is an indetermin-
able duration. The mind is soon tired and lost, in searching af-
ter numbers to represent it: It is confounded and struck with
amazing horror, and can only direct the eye upward or down-
ward to the two habitations of eternity, the glorious and the mis-
erable, heaven and hell. Now let us compare the things of the
present world with those of the future state: the first are mea-
sured by flying time, the other remain in an unmoveable eterni-
ty. The comforts that spring from the earth, suddenly wither
and fall to it: the tree of life flourishes only above. Frequent
changes from prosperity to adversity, are the properties of this
mortal state. As those who are in voyages at sea, sometimes
are in a calm, and presently suffer a storm, and are forced to al-
ter their course by the changing of the winds; so it is with us
in our passage here. But upon the first entrance into another
world, all the variations of this are at an end. "Verily every
man at his best estate is altogether vanity. Surely every man
walks in a vain shew, surely they are disquieted in vain.?” The
visible felicity of man is of no continuance. We may frequently
observe in the evening cloud by the reflection of the sun in-
vested with so bright a lustre, and adorned with such a pleasant
variety of colors, that in the judgment of our eyes, if an angel
were to assume a body correspondent to his glory, it were a fit
matter for it. But in walking a few steps, the sun is descended
beneath the horizon, and the light withdrawn, and of all that
splendid flaming appearance, nothing remains but a dark vapor,
that falls down in a shower. Thus vanishing is the show of fe-
licity here. In this, sense assists faith; for the experience of
every day verifies what the scripture declares, "that the fashion
of this world passes away." And therefore the guilty folly of
men is aggravated, "to set their eyes and hearts upon that
which is not." To see one passionately dote on a face ruined
and deformed with age, to be enchanted without a charm, raises
wonder, and exposes to contempt. Yet such is the stupidity of
men to embrace with their most entire affections the withered
vanities of the world, that are hastening to their period. It was
a stinging reproach to idolaters from God: "None considers in
his heart, neither is there knowledge nor understanding," to
say, "I have burnt part of it in the fire; yea, I have also baked
bread upon the coals thereof: I have roasted flesh and eaten it:
and shall I make the residue an abomination? shall I fall down to
the stock of a tree?" And are not sensual men equally guilty of
520
OF HEAVEN.
such monstrous folly? for though universal experience convinces
them, that all things under the sun are fading, and that many
times their dearest comforts are snatched away from their embra-
ces; yet who does not advisedly consider, and say to himself, shall
I give my heart to transient shadows? Shall I cherish vain hopes,
vain aims and desires of obtaining happiness in a perishing world?
Although the worshiping a stock be idolatry of grosser infamy,
yet it is as foolish as destructive to set our chief love and joy,
that is only due to God, upon the creature. And what follows
in the prophet, is justly applicable to such persons; "He feedeth
on ashes, (that not only afford no nourishment, but is very hurt-
ful to the body) a deceived heart has turned him aside, that he
cannot deliver his soul, nor say, is there not a lie in my right
hand?" Thus carnal men are so blinded with their affections to
these short-lived pleasures, that they cannot take the true liberty
of judging and reflecting, they are deceived and delighted with
empty shadows that will suddenly end in disappointment and
sorrow? Briefly, these glittering fictions and false joys cannot
please without an error in the mind, that shall last but a little
while. And if you saw a distracted person sing and dance, with
a conceit that he is a prince, would you be willing to lose sober
reason for his fantastic pleasure; especially if you knew that his
cheerful fit should suddenly change into a mournful or raging mad-
ness forever? But the blessedness above is unchangeable as God,
the author and object of it; eternal, as the soul that enjoys it.
And shall "the world, that passes away with the lusts thereof,"
turn our affections from the undefiled immortal inheritance?
Shall the vanishing appearance, the fleeting figure of happiness,
be preferred before what is substantial and durable? If a spark
of true reason, of sincere love to our souls be left,
we shall
count all things but dross and dung, that we may gain the king-
dom of glory." Thus eternity enlightens, thus it counsels us.
66
OF HEAVEN.
521
CHAPTER XIV.
•
Other motives to seek the kingdom of heaven. God is very willing men
should partake of his glory. All who unfeignedly and earnestly seek, shall
obtain it. Heaven is promised upon gracious terms. An answer to the
carnal allegation, that we are commanded to pluck out the right eye, and
cut off the right hand, and to submit to the sharpest sufferings. Fervent and
constant prayer for divine grace, that we may fix our aims upon eternal
happiness, and be diligent in the use of means to obtain it. The grace of
the spirit, requisite to convince the mind thoroughly of the reality and great-
ness of an invisible and future happiness. It is requisite to purify the will
and affections, that with full consent the soul may desire and prosecute its
blessed end.
To encourage us to seek the kingdom of heaven, I shall pro-
pound other motives to consideration.
1. God is very willing that men should be saved and partake of
his glory. For this end, "he has brought life and immortality to
light in the gospel." The Lord Jesus, the Sun of righteousness,
has dispelled the darkness of the Gentiles, and the shadows of
the Jews, and rendered the blessed and eternal state so clear and
so visible, that every eye may see it. Our assurance of it is
upon infallible principles. And though the excellent glory of it
is inexpressible, yet it is represented under variety of fair and
lovely types to invite our affections. Besides, God makes an
earnest offer of life to us in his word; he commands, counsels,
excites, urges, nay entreats and beseeches with infinite tender-
ness, that men will accept of it. Thus the Apostle declares,
"Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did
beseech you by us, we pray you in Christ's stead be reconciled
to God."
Is it not evident then beyond the most jealous suspi-
cion, God is desirous of our happiness? Can we imagine any de-
sign, any insincerity in his words? Why should heaven court a
worm? It is his love to souls that expresses itself in that conde-
scending compassionate manner, to melt and overcome the per-
verse and hardened sin.
And as his words, so his works are a convincing argument of
his will his most gracious sustaining and supporting of sinful
men, his innumerable benefits conferred upon them, in the pro-
vision of good, and preservation from evil, are for this end, that
by the conduct of his merciful providence they may be led to re-
pentance, and received into his favor. And the temporal judg-
ments inflicted on sinners, are medicinal in their nature, and in
VOL. I.
66
522
OF HEAVEN.
his design to bring them to a sight and abhorrence of sin, to pre-
vent their final ruin; if they prove mortal to any, it is from their
obstinate corruption. The time allowed to those who are ob-
noxious to his justice every hour, is not a mere reprieve from
torment, but a space of repentance to sue out a pardon they
are spared in order to salvation. The Lord is long-suffering to
us ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should
come to repentance, 2 Pet. 3. 9.
:
But, above all his other works, the giving of his Son to be a sa-
crifice for sin, is an incomparable demonstration how much he
delights in the salvation of men. Since God has been at such
cost to put them into a capacity of obtaining the kingdom of un-
changeable glory, far transcending the earthly paradise that was
forfeited by sin, we have the strongest assurance that he desires
their felicity. And how guilty and miserable will those sinners.
be, that when Christ has opened heaven to us by his blood, re-
fuse to enter into it? When Brutus, the most noble Roman,
propounded to a philosopher his design to restore Rome to liber-
ty, he replied, that the action would be glorious indeed, but that
so many servile spirits that tamely stooped under tyranny, were
not worthy that a man of virtue and courage should hazard him-
self to recover that for them, which they did so lightly esteem.
The redemption of mankind is without controversy the master-
piece of God's works, wherein his principal attributes appear in
their excellent glory. But how astonishing is the unworthiness
of men, who wretchedly neglect salvation, which the Son of
God purchased by a life full of sorrows, and a death of infinite
sufferings? Blessed Redeemer! may it be spoken with the
humble, affectionate, and thankful sense of thy dying love, why
didst thou give thyself a ransom for those who are charmed with
their misery, and with the most foul ingratitude disvalue so pre-
cious a redemption? How justly shall they be forever deprived
of it? "Behold, ye despisers, and wonder and perish.”
come.
2. Consider, this glorious blessedness shall be the portion of
all that unfeignedly choose it, and earnestly seek it. This mo-
tive was inclosed in the first, but deserves a separate considera-
tion. And of this we have infallible assurance from the word of
God, "who cannot lie. Godliness has the promise of the life to
This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation.”
The hope of a christian is so certain, that it is compared to an
anchor fastened in heaven. And besides the fidelity of his word,
God has given us security of the reward, the life of his Son.
This methinks should turn the current of our desires and en-
deavors to heaven. For notwithstanding all our toil and sweat,
the labor of the day, and the watchings of the night for the ob-
taining earthly things, yet we many times fall short of our aims
and hopes. It was the observation of the wisest man, "I re-
turned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift,
OF HEAVEN.
523
nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor
yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of
skill; but time and chance happeneth to all." Indeed such is
the order of divine providence in the world, there must be dif-
ferent conditions of men here: some rich, others poor; some
noble, others mean; some in command, others in subjection.
And from hence it is also evident, that neither dignity, nor riches,
nor pleasures are the happiness of man. For it is not becoming
the wisdom and goodness of God to make the last end of the
reasonable creature, which though sought with sincerity and dili-
gence, may not be obtained, or of which without his own con-
sent he may be deprived. But civil distinctions and qualities
are of no value and consideration with respect to the obtaining
or excluding from heaven. The rich and honorable that are in
an exalted state, have not a more easy ascent and entrance into
the kingdom of God, than those who are in the lowest degree.
The stars appear with the same brightness to him that stands in
the deepest valley, as on the highest hill. Is there any differ-
ence between the souls of the rich and great in the world, and
the souls of the poor and despised? Are they not equally the
offspring of God, and equally ransomed by the most precious
blood of his Son? Are they not equally capable of eternal re-
wards? Are not the promises of the heavenly kingdom equally
addressed to every one that has an immortal soul, that is faithful
to his duty and covenant with God? This should inspire all
with flaming desires, and draw forth their utmost industry, "and
make them steadfast and unmoveable, always to abound in the
work of the Lord, knowing our labor shall not be in vain in the
Lord."
I know the carnal will is impetuous and impatient of delay;
and earnest for what is present, with the neglect of the future
glory. But the unreasonableness of this is evident to all: for it
is not a new and strange thing to sow in hopes of reaping a har-
vest, for men to be industrious and active on land and sea for
future advantage. Nay, it is the constant practice of the world :
the merchant, the husbandman, the student, the soldier, and
every man in the circle of his calling, are visible instances of
this; and though many times the most flourishing hopes are
blasted, they are not discouraged. And is it not a sight full of
wonder, to observe men cheerful in labors and hardships in the
service of the world, to carry it so lightly as if they had wings,
and all for a poor and uncertain recompense, and to be slow and
languid in their endeavors for a reward as great and as sure as
God is glorious and true? How many ambitiously strive to
please a prince, and wait long in his service, who is but a man,
and therefore variable in his temper and state; sometimes is not
willing to do what he can, and sometimes cannot do what he
would to reward his servants? And is there not infinitely more
524
OF HEAVEN.
reason we should labor to please God, who is the most liberal,
and rich, and "certain rewarder of all them that seek him ?"
3. Consider how gracious the terms are upon which heaven is
promised in the gospel. Our Saviour's laws are so holy, just,
and in their own nature so good to men, even in their present
performance, that their own excellence, and equity, and sweet-
ness, is sufficient to recommend them without a respect to the
glorious reward of obedience. For what can be more desirable
than conformity to the nature of the blessed God? What plea-
sure is comparable to that which springs from a pure conscience,
from a godly, righteous and sober conversation? How joyful is
the performance of that service which more immediately is di-
rected to the honor of the divine Majesty? In prayer, and oth-
er sacred actions, we draw near to the fountain of felicity, and
receive from his fulness. In the affectionate praises of God, we
are companions of the angels. And is not integrity and honesty
in our dealings with men more easy and comfortable than fraud
and oppression? Is it not troublesome to be always under a
mask, to use arts and disguises to avoid the reproach and revenge
that attends unjust actions when discovered? Are temperance
and chastity as hurtful to the body, as luxury and lasciviousness,
the essential parts of carnal felicity? How miserable is man
when the heart is rent with numberless vanities, the affections
distracted between various objects! How quiet and composed,
when the heart is united to God as the supreme good, and the
affections joyfully conspire in his service! Can
Can it then be pre-
tended that the yoke of Christ is heavy, and his law hard? Or
are his promises uncertain, and his reward small? No, "his
commands are not grievous; in the keeping them there is a
great reward," a present Paradise. Religion will make us hap-
py hereafter in the enjoyment of God, and happy here in obedi-
ence to his holy will. Such is his goodness, that our duty and
happiness are the same.
But it will be said, that the gospel requires "us to pluck out
the right eye, and cut off the right hand, and to take up the
cross of Christ; that is, to mortify the dearest lusts, and to sub-
mit to the sharpest sufferings for his honor, that we may be eter-
nally happy.'
""
To this I answer :
It is true, the human nature in this depraved state, only rel-
ishes such objects as pleasantly insinuate with the carnal senses,
and it is bitter as death to bind up the affections from them. But
grace gives a new divine nature to the soul, and makes it easy
to abstain from fleshly lusts. To make this more clear by a
sensible instance suppose a diseased person, whose stomach is
oppressed with corrupt humors, and his throat and mouth so
heated with choler and continual thirst, that he thinks it impos-
sible, though for his life, to abstain from immoderate drinking.
OF HEAVEN.
525
If a physician by some powerful medicine cleanses the stomach,
and tempers the internal heat, he then can easily restrain himself
from excess. Thus a carnal man that is full of false estimations,
and irregular desires, while there are pleasures without, and
passions unsubdued within, though his salvation depends on it,
thinks it impossible to restrain the exorbitant appetites of flesh
and blood. The "Gentiles thought it strange, christians did not
run with them to the same excess of riot." But divine grace
so clarifies and enlightens the mind, so purifies and elevates the
affections, that it is not only possible, but easy to abstain from
unlawful pleasures. St. Austin, before his conversion, was
astonished, that many in the vigor of youth, and in a frail world
lived chastely; and reflecting upon himself, was encouraged by
this thought, that which such and such observe, why shall it be
impossible for me to observe? And upon serious trial, by the
prosperous influence of heaven, was a conqueror over all carnal
temptations. Nay, after his holy change, the withholding his
heart from vicious delights, was inexpressibly more sweet than
his former enjoying of them. And are there not many visible
examples of holy heavenly christians, to whom grosser sensual
pleasures are unsavory and contemptible? You may as well tell
the number of the stars, as of those who have practised religion
in its strictness and purity, and by their enlightened conversa-
tions directed us in the way to heaven. And are their bodies
taken from the vein of a rock, and not composed of flesh and
blood as well as others? Are their passions, like Solomon's
brazen sea, unmoveable by any winds of temptations? Are they
entirely exempted from the impression of objects, and lower af-
fections? No, they are alive, and sensible of those things that
affections of carnal men, but by the power of grace despise and
overcome them. And this grace is offered in the gospel, to all
that sincerely desire it; so that it is a vain wretched pretence
that religion binds to hard service.
*
To the other part of the objection, that sometimes religion ex-
poses the professors of it to heavy sufferings, I answer; indeed
the gospel is plain and peremptory in this, if we will " reign
with Christ, we must suffer with him," when we are called forth
to give a noble testimony to his truth. It is no extraordinary
elevation, no point of perfection, but the duty of every christian
to be always ready in the disposition and resolution of his mind,
to sacrifice his life when the honor of Christ requires it. But it
is no hard condition to suffer transient afflictions for the obtaining
a happy immortality, to be conformable to the image of our suf-
fering Redeemer, that we may be crowned with his glory. How
many christians esteemed themselves honored in the disgrace,
and blessed in the injuries they suffered for Christ, and with an
* Quami suave carere suavitatibus istis ?
526
OF HEAVEN.
invincible patience, and astonishing joy, endured the most cruel
persecutions, though yet the human nature in them was as tender,
and sensible of pains as in others? But the natural aversion
and repugnance to suffering was over-ruled by the reward at-
tending it. They gave a most convincing sensible testimony
how much more valuable heaven is, than this present world,
willingly exposing themselves to all evil here, "rejoicing in
hope" of a glorious issue.
În short; the reward of obedience is a triumphal crown; and
where there is no victory, there can be no triumph; and where
no combat, no victory ; and where no enemy, no combat. There-
fore we are commanded to fight against our internal enemies,
our corrupt affections, to kill the lusts of the flesh, and to en-
counter and overcome, by humility and meek submission, the
cruelty of malicious enemies without us, in order to obtain the
crown of life. And a believer that has heaven in taste and ex-
pectation, will easily renounce the most pleasant, and willingly
endure the sharpest temptations, for the blessed reward of his
obedience.
Lastly, Fervent and constant prayer, is requisite for the grace
of God, that we may fix our aims aright upon eternal happiness,
and use those sure means that with divine advantage are propo-
sed in the scriptures, that can make us wise to salvation. Such
is the depravation of man since his fall, the mind is diverted by
vain thoughts, and the heart prepossessed with sensual desires,
that till the spirit of his mind be renewed, and his original affec-
tions to the Supreme Good be revived and restored by divine
grace, he is regardless of it, and only applies himself to what is
pleasing to sense. There may be some transient glances, and
volatile wishes of heaven in carnal men, but they are miserably
weak, and ineffectual. Therefore a most necessary duty in-
cumbent upon us, is by humble and fervent prayer to address
ourselves to God for his spirit, to enlighten our minds, that we
may believe the reality and greatness of the eternal reward ;
and to reform our wills, that we may feel its attractive force.
Both these acts of the spirit are requisite, that the love of God,
as our chief felicity, may be the regent principle of our hearts
and lives.
1. For this end the Holy Spirit convinces men thoroughly of
the reality and greatness of an invisible and future happiness. In
the light of the gospel, how many of eminent intellectual facul-
ties are stupid as to their great interest, and spend themselves
about trifles, and are equally tractable to eternal ruin, as the ox
to the slaughter? He that is destitute of the illuminating grace
of the spirit," is blind, and cannot see far off." Now by the an-
alogy between the corporeal and intellectual faculties, we may un-
derstand in some measure, how the mind is illuminated by the
Spirit of God. For as to the act of seeing, two things are requi-
OF HEAVEN.
527
site; 1. External light in the air, without which the colors, fig-
ures and beauties of objects are not visible to the sharpest eye,
but lie obscured under impenetrable darkness. 2. Internal light
in the eye, in which the visive power consists: if this be extin-
guished, the clearest light of heaven is of no use for the disco-
very of things. Thus the understanding is enabled to see spirit-
ual things. 1. by the revelation of the object: in this respect
"life and immortality are brought to light by the gospel." Till
that bright discovery was made of eternal blessedness, it was
above the desires and hope of sinful man. Cœlum, homo, nec
optare poterat ex ignorantia, nec sperare ex propria miseria con-
scientia. 2. By the inward enlightening, "from the spirit of
wisdom," that removes the ignorance, prejudice, and inadverten-
cy of the mind, which as scales darkened its sight, and disposes
it to perceive the verity and excellency of spiritual and future
things, though not with comprehensive evidence, yet with that
assurance, that no doubtfulness or suspense remains concerning
them. It is observable that faith is expressed in scripture, by
prudence, wisdom, and knowledge, whereby a man knows the
grounds and motives of his judgment and actions. And sin is
called folly. For as when the understanding faculty, either from
the indisposedness of the organs as in idiots, or from the disorder
of fancy, by inflammation of the humors, as in distracted persons,
cannot weigh and compare, and therefore makes a perverse
judgment of things: so the carnal mind, by not due measuring
and pondering, judges falsely of spiritual things. If something no
bigger than the hand were put before the eye, it would intercept
the sight of the heavens; and he that not considering the proper-
ties of things near and distant, should conclude that piece to be
bigger than the heavens, were justly reputed a fool. And the
folly of carnal men is more gross, who prefer things present to
sense, before what is future, and of everlasting consequence to
the soul. But there are some actions, which if done by a natural,
would be counted folly; yet being done by those who in the repu-
tation of the world are wise, are esteemed prudent, but they are
the most deplorable folly. Now as the restoring the Læsum prin-
cipium, the broken mind to its sound state, whereby it is able to
consider, discern and conclude of things according to their nature,
such is the action of God's Spirit upon the corrupt mind, clarify-
ing and enlightening it, so that it receives full conviction by the
clearest marks of divine authority shining in the gospel, of the
truth of all the great and precious promises therein contained, and
causing it, by a steady application of the thoughts, to see the vast
difference between what is temporal and eternal; how despicably
light all the vanities of this world are found, when put in the
balance against the infinite inestimable happiness of the next. In
short, the renewed mind knows spiritual things according to their
nature and qualities, believes, esteems, and determines that they
528
OF HEAVEN.
4
are of eternal moment, and absolutely necessary for the happiness
of man.
And as when the natural faculty of seeing is perished, it
is irreparable by human skill, and without a miracle can never
be restored so the intellectual faculty, when darkened by sin-
ful lusts, without the renewing power of the Spirit, "can never
know spiritual things as they ought to be known." Therefore
as the blind men in the gospel who despaired of help from the
physicians, hearing of the miraculous power of Christ, importu-
nately begged his healing mercy; so let us pray to the light and
Saviour of the world, but in a more noble and higher sense,
"Lord, that we may receive our sight." Let us with the most
zealous affections call upon "the God of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of glory, that he would give unto us the spirit of wis-
dom and revelation in the knowledge of him, the eyes of our un-
derstanding being enlightened, that we may know what is the
hope of his calling, and what the riches of the glory of his inher-
itance in the saints."
2. The efficacious influence of the Holy Spirit is requisite to
change the will, that with a free and full consent it may desire and
prosecute the spiritual eternal good. Without this, the conviction
of the mind is not powerful enough to convert the soul from the
love of the world, to choose heaven. There may be an enlight-
ened conscience without a renewed heart. Though the judgment
assents that God is the Supreme Good, yet till the heart be circum-
cised, the sensuality of the affections taken away, divine love
that directs the life to God as our blessed end, can never possess
it. Suppose that men had a sensible and strong assurance of the
eternal state hereafter, if all those who live godly in a visible
manner ascended with Elias to heaven, and if all who continued
in their sins visibly descended into hell, as Corah and his com-
pany were swallowed up alive by the earth before the Israelites ;
if men could hear the joyful exultations of the saints above, their
high praises of God, and hear the desperate cries and deep com-
plaints of the damned: if one, according to the desire of the rich
man, were sent from hell, and with his fiery tongue should relate
what he had seen and suffered, and exhibit a sensible demonstra-
tion in himself of those torments; yet this alone were not suffi-
cient to draw off their hearts from the deceitful happiness of this
world, and fasten them on the perfect and eternal happiness in the
next. Indeed they could not indulge their lusts so securely, but
they would be “ strangers to the life of God," such an inveterate
66
alienation of the heart is in man from real holiness. Till the
sanctifying spirit by a directive persuasive light, that represents
the truth and goodness of spiritual things, transforms the soul, and
makes it spiritual in its valuations and affections, it is inwardly
"The Lord direct our hearts into
averse from grace and glory.
the love of God, and into the patient waiting for Christ, when he
shall come to be glorified in his saints, and admired in all them
that believe."
•
OF
HELL.
MARK IX. 48.
Where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.
CHAPTER I.
The opening of the text. The punishment of unreformed sinners shall be
extreme and eternal. The torments in hell exceed the heaviest judgments
inflicted here. They are represented in scripture, so as to instruct and ter-
rify sinners. The soul shall be the chief mourner in hell. The apprehen-
sion shall be enlarged to all afflicting objects. The thoughts shall be
fixed upon what is tormenting. All the tormenting passions will be let
loose upon the guilty soul. Shame, sorrow, rage, despair, at once seize on
the damned.
The words are the repetition of a powerful motive, by our
blessed Saviour, to deter men from indulging temptations to sin,
how grateful or useful soever to them: "If thy hand offend thee,
cut it off; if thy foot offend thee, cut it off; if thy eye offend
thee, pluck it out." All the occasions whereby sin insinuates it-
self, and inflames our inclinations, whether it bribes us with
profit, or allures by pleasure, must be immediately cut off, and
forever separated from us. This counsel seems very severe to
the natural man, who freely converses with temptations: to do
violence to himself, and tear his beloved lusts from his bosom,
the carnal nature will not consent to. Our Saviour therefore
urges such arguments as may move the understanding and affec-
tions, may strike sense and conscience: "For it is better to en-
ter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell,
where the fire never shall be quenched." Hope and fear are
the most active passions: the hope of heaven is motive enough
to induce a true believer to despise and reject all the advantages
and pleasures of sin that are but for a season: and the fear of an
everlasting hell, is strong enough to control the vicious appe-
VOL. I.
67
530
OF HELL.
Reason determines that when a
*
tites.
gangrene that is deadly
and spreading, has seized upon a member, presently to cut off an
affected arm or leg, to save the rest: how much more reasonable
and necessary is it to part with the most charming and favorite
sin, to preserve the soul from eternal death? It is observable, our,
Saviour inculcates three times, that men may take notice of it with
terror, where the worm never dies, and the fire is never
quenched:" a worm gnawing upon the bowels, that are of the
most tender and quick sense, fire that causes the most vehement
pain, are fearful representations to typify the torments of the
damned and that the worm is undying, and the fire unquencha-
ble, infinitely aggravates their punishment.
66
:
The proposition is this: that the punishment of those who
will retain their pleasant or profitable sins, shall be extreme and
eternal.
In the handling of this point, I will, 1. Discourse of the ex-
tremity of the punishment. 2. Of the eternity of it.
I. Of the extremity of it.
Before the particular description of the pains of the damned,
I shall observe in general, that the full representation of hell is
beyond all human expression; nay, our most fearful thoughts
cannot equal the horror of it. Who knows the power of thine
anger? Psal. 90. 11. What are the prepared plagues, by infi-
nite justice, and Almighty wrath, for obstinate sinners? It is im-
possible for the most guilty and trembling conscience to enlarge
its sad apprehensions according to the degrees of that misery.
"The Lord will shew forth his wrath, and make his power
known in the vessels fitted for destruction." None can tell what
God can do, and what man shall suffer, when made capable to
endure such torments forever, as now would presently consume
him. As the glory of heaven cannot be fully understood till en-
joyed, so the torments of hell cannot be comprehended till felt.
But we may have some discovery of those unknown terrors, by
the following considerations.
The most heavy judgments of God upon sinners here, are
light and tolerable, in comparison of the punishment of sinners
in the next state. For,
(1.) Temporal evils, of all kinds and degrees, (as pestilence,
famine, war,) are designed for the bringing of men to a sight
and sense of their sins, and are common to good and bad here.
And if his anger be so terrible when he chastises as a compas-
sionate father, what is his fury when he punishes as a severe
judge? If the correcting remedies, ordered by his wisdom and
love for the conversion of sinners, be so sharp, what is the deadly
revenge of his irreconcilable hatred ?
* Ut corpus redimas, ferrum patieris et ignes; ut valeas animo, quicquam
tolerare negabis? At pretium pars hæc corpore majus habet. Ovid.
OF HELL.
531
(2.) The miseries of the present state are allayed with some
enjoyments. None are so universally afflicted, so desolate, but
something remains to sweeten the sense of their sufferings.
Judgments are tempered with mercies: no man is tortured with
all diseases, nor forsaken of all friends, nor utterly without com-
fort. And when the affliction is irremediable, yet if our grief
produces sympathy in others, it is some ease to the troubled
mind, and by that assistance the burden is made lighter: but in
hell, the damned are surrounded with terrors, encompassed with
flames, without any thing to refresh their sorrows; not a drop of
water to a lake of fire. All that was esteemed felicity here, is
totally withdrawn: death puts a period to their lives, and plea-
sures of sin, forever. For it is most just, that those objects
which were abused by their lusts, and alienated their hearts
from their duty and felicity, should be taken away and which
is extreme misery, in their most pitiful state, they are absolutely
unpitied. Pity is the cheap and universal lenitive, not denied
to the most guilty in their sufferings here; for the law of nature
instructs us to pity the man, when the malefactor suffers. But
even this is not afforded to the damned: all their agonies and
cries cannot incline the compassion of God, and the blessed spir-
its in heaven, towards them; for they are not compassionable
objects, their misery being the just effect of their perverse ob-
stinate choice: and in hell, all human tender affections are ex-
tinguished forever. Now it is the perfection of misery, the ex-
cess of desolation, to be deprived of all good things pleasing to
our desires, and to suffer all evils, from which we have the
deepest aversation and abhorrence. As in heaven, all good is
eminently comprised, and nothing but good; so in hell, all evil
is in excessive degrees, and nothing but evil.
(3.) Temporal evils are inflicted by the mediation of second
causes, that are of a limited power to hurt; but in the next
world, he more immediately torments the damned by his absolute
power. The Apostle tells us, that the wicked "are punished
with everlasting destruction, from the presence of the Lord, and
the glory of his power." What is the lashing with a few rushes,
to a blow given by the hand of a giant, that strikes dead at
once? This comparison is below the truth.
More particularly, the state of misery is set forth in Scripture
by such representations as may powerfully instruct and terrify
even the most carnal men. Nothing is more intolerably painful,
than suffering the violence of fire enraged with brimstone; and
hell is described by a lake of fire and brimstone, wherein the
wicked are tormented. Whether the fire be material or meta-
phorical, the reality and intenseness of the torment is signified
by it but the ordinary fire, though mingled with the most tor-
turing ingredients, is not an adequate representation of it: for
that is prepared by men; but the fire of hell is prepared by the
:
532
OF HELL.
wrath of God, for the devil and his angels. The divine power
is illustriously manifested in that terrible preparation: so that,
as some of the fathers express it, if one of the damned might
pass from those flames into the fiercest fires here, it were to ex-
change a torment for a refreshment. The scripture speaks of
the vehement heat, and fiery thirst, and outer darkness, in which
the damned suffer, to satisfy the rights of justice in the torment of
those senses, for the pleasure of which men wilfully broke the
laws of God.
But the soul being the chief sinner, shall be the chief mourn-
er in those regions of sorrow. An image of this we have in the
agonies of spirit, which sometimes the saints themselves are in
here, and which the most stubborn sinners can neither resist nor
endure. Job was afflicted in that manner, that he complains,
"The arrows of the Almighty are with me, the poison whereof
drinks up my spirit; the terrors of God set themselves in array
against me." If a spark of his displeasure falls on the guilty
conscience, it tears and blows up all, as a fire-ball cast into a
magazine, Solomon, who understood the frame of human na-
ture, tells us, "The spirit of a man can bear his infirmity ;"
that is, the mind fortified by principles of moral counsel and
constancy, can endure the assault of external evils; tr but a
wounded spirit who can bear ?" This is most insupportable, when
the sting and remorse of the mind is from the sense of guilt; for
then God appears an enemy, righteous and severe; and who
can encounter with offended Omnipotence? Such is the sharp-
ness of his sword, and the weight of his hand, that every stroke
is deadly inward. Satan, the cruel enemy of souls, exasperates
the wounds: he discovers and charges sin upon the conscience,
with all its killing aggravations, and conceals the divine mercy,
the only lenitive and balm to the wounded spirits. What visions
of horror, what spectacles of fear, what scenes of sorrow are
presented to the distracted mind by the prince of darkness?
And, which heightens the misery, man is a worse enemy to him-
self than Satan; he falls upon his own sword, and destroys him-
self. The guilty conscience turns "the sun into darkness, and
the moon into blood:" the precious promises of the gospel, that
assures favor and pardon to returning and relenting sinners, are
turned into arguments of despair, by reflecting upon the abuse
and provocation of mercy, that the advocate in God's bosom is
become the accuser. Whatever the soul-wounded sinner sees
or hears, afflicts him; whatever he thinks, torments him.
the diversions in the world, business, pleasures, merry conver-
sation, comedies, are as ineffectual to give freedom from those
stings and furies in the breast, as the sprinkling of holy water is
to expel a raging Devil from a possessed person. Those who
in their pride and jollity have despised serious religion, either
as a fond transport and extasy towards God, or a dull melan-
All
OF HELL.
533
choly and dejection about the soul, or an idle scrupulosity about
indifferent things; yet when God has set their sins (with all
their killing circumstances) in order before their eyes, how
changed, how confounded are they at that apparition? How
restless, with the dreadful expectation of the doom that attends
them! Belshazzar, in the midst of his cups and herd of concu-
bines, by a few words written on the wall, (containing his process
and judgment) was so terrified by his guilty jealous conscience,
that his joints were loosed; nature sunk under the apprehension.
Now all these troubles of mind are but the beginning of sorrows,
but the smoke of the infernal furnace, but earnest of that terri-
ble sum, which divine justice will severely exact of the wicked
in hell.
Indeed, these examples are rare, and not regarded by the most,
and by some looked on as the effects of distraction; but to con-
vince the bold and careless sinners, who never felt the stings of
of an awakened conscience, what extreme terrors seize upon the
wicked in the other world, consider,
1. The apprehension shall be more clear and enlarged, than in
the present state. Now the soul is oppressed with a weight of
clay, and in drowsiness and obscurity; the great things of eterni-
ty are of little force to convince the conscience, or persuade the
affections? But then the soul shall work with the quickest acti-
vity; the mind shall, by an irresistible light, take a full view of all
afflicting objects: the most stupid and unconcerned sinners shall
then see and feel their ruined state; what a glorious felicity they
have lost, what a misery they are plunged into, without any pos-
sibility of lessening it by false conceits, and receiving any relief
by the error of imagination.
2. The mournful thoughts shall be always fixed upon what is
tormenting. The soul, in conjunction with the body, cannot al-
ways apply itself to one sort of objects; for the ministry of the
sensible faculties is requisite to its operations, and the body
must be supported by eating and drinking, and rest, which inter-
rupt troublesome thoughts. Besides, the variety of objects
and accidents here, avert the mind sometimes from what is af-
flicting but the separate soul is in no dependance on the body,
and after their re-union, there shall be no necessity of food or
sleep, or any other animal actions to support it; but it shall be
restored to a new capacity for new torments, and preserved in
that miserable state by the power of God. There will be no-
thing then to divert the lost soul from sad reflection upon its mi-
sery. There are no lucid intervals in hell.
3. All the tormenting passions will then be let loose at once.
upon the guilty creature. And if there be no single passion so
weak, but heightened, will break the spirit, and render life so
miserable, that a man will take sanctuary in the grave to escape;
how miserable is the condition, when the most fierce and united
534
OF HELL.
passions war against the soul? This is signified by "the never
dying worm," that gnaws on the tenderest parts, and of quickest
sense. Shame, sorrow, despair, fury, hatred and revenge, are
some of that brood of vipers that torment the damned.
*
1. Shame is a passion of which human nature is very sensible,
and this in the highest degree of confusion shall seize on the
wicked. For all the just causes of shame shall then meet: the
inward source of it, is the consciousness of guilt, of turpitude
and folly in the action; and all these are the inseparable adjuncts
of sin. The guilty soul, by a piercing reflection upon its
crimes, has a secret shame of its degeneracy and unworthiness:
the passion is increased, when a discovery is made of vile prac-
tices that defile and debase a man, expose to contempt and infa-
my, before persons of high quality and eminent virtue, whom
we admire and reverence, and whose esteem we value. To be
surprised in an unworthy action by such a person, disorders the
blood, and transfuses a color in the face, to cover it with a veil
of blushing and the more numerous the spectators are, the
more the disgrace is aggravated. And if derision be joined
with the ignominy, it causes extreme displeasure. O the uni-
versal confusion, the overpowering amazement, that will seize
on sinners in the great day of discovery, when all the works of
darkness, all their base sensualities shall be revealed before God,
angels and saints! When all the covers of shame shall be taken
off, the excuses and denials, to extenuate or conceal their sins,
shall vanish, and their breasts be transparent to the eyes of all!
How will they be ashamed of their foul and permanent deformi-
ty in the light of that glorious presence? How will they be
astonished to appear in all their pollutions before that bright and
immense theatre? How will they be confounded to stand in all
their guilt before that sublime and severe tribunal? How will
they endure the upbraidings for all the sins which they have so
wickedly committed, and the derision for the punishment they so
deservedly suffer? The holy Judge will "laugh at their calam-
ity, and mock when their fear comes. The righteous also shall
see, and shall laugh at them :" lo, these are the men that
made not God their portion, but perishing vanities, that prefer-
red sweet folly before severe wisdom. The Devils will re-
proach them for that scornful advantage they had over them,
that as children are seduced for things of lustre to part with real
treasures; so they were easily persuaded for the trifles of time
to change eternal happiness. Whether will they cause their
shame to go? Jer. 14. 12. Those black sinners that here never
change color for their filthiness, that hardened by custom in sin,
are impenetrable to shame, as the brute beasts that are absolute-
ly destitute of reason; nay, they have not only overcome all
* Tacita sudant præcordia culpa. Juv.
OF HELL.
535
tenderness, but "glory in their shame,” shall glow at the mani-
festation of their social lusts, their vile servilities, and be cover-
ed with confusion, and the sense of it shall be revived in their
minds forever.
This
2. To open shame is joined the greatest inward sorrow.
passion, when violent, penetrates the soul in all its faculties, and
fastens it to the afflicting object. When it dwells in the bosom,
it gives an easy entrance to whatever cherishes and increases it,
and rejects what might assuage and lessen the sense of the evil.
The most pleasant things do not excite desire or joy, but exas-
perate grief. Like those animals that convert the best nourish-
ment into their own poison; so deep sorrow receives mournful
impressions from all things, and turns the sweetest comforts of
life into wormwood and gall. The causes of sorrow are either
the loss of some valued good, or the sense of some present evil.
And the sorrow is more violent, as the cause is great in itself,
and in the apprehension and tenderness of the sufferers. Now
both these causes, with all the heavy circumstances that can
multiply and aggravate sorrow, meet in hell the centre of misery.
The loss is inconceivably great. If Cain, when banished from
the society of the saints, where God was publicly worshipped,
and by spiritual revelations and visible apparitions, graciously
made himself known, cried out in anguish of soul, "My punish-
ment is greater than I can bear; from thy face shall I be hid, and
I shall be a fugitive upon the earth:" how intolerable will the
final separation from his glorious and joyful presence be? In
the clear and transforming vision of his glory, and the intimate
and indissoluble union with him by love, consists the perfection
and satisfaction of the immortal soul. The felicity resulting from
it is as entire and eternal, as God is great and true, who has so
often promised it in scripture. Now the damned are forever
excluded from the reviving presence of God. It is often seen
how tenderly and impatiently the human spirit resents the
loss of a dear relation. Jacob, for the supposed death of Joseph,
was so overcome with grief, that when all his sons and daughters
rose up to comfort him, he refused to be comforted, and said, “I
will go down mourning to the grave." Indeed this overwhelm-
ing sorrow is both a sin and a punishment. *It is ordained by the
righteous and unchangeable decree of God, that every inordinate
affection in man should be his own tormenter. But if the loss of
a poor frail creature for a short time be so afflicting, how unsup-
portable will the sorrow be for the loss of the blessed God for-
ever? Who can fully conceive the extent and degrees of that
evil? For an evil rises in proportion to the good of which it
deprives us it must therefore follow, that celestial blessedness
being an infinite eternal good, the exclusion from it is propor-
tionably evil. And as the felicity of the saints results from the
* Jussisti Domine, et sic est, ut pœna sit sibi omnis inordinatus affectus. Aug.
536
OF HELL.
fruition of God in heaven, and from comparison with the contrary
state so the misery of the damned arises both from the thoughts
of lost happiness, and from the lasting pain that torments them.
It may be replied, if this be the utmost evil that is consequent
to sin, the threatenings of it is likely to deter but few from the
pleasing their corrupt appetites: for carnal men have such gross
and vitiated affections that are careless of spiritual happiness.
They cannot "taste and see how good the Lord is.”
To this a clear answer may be given: In the next state, where
the wicked shall be forever without those carnal objects that here
deceive and delight them, when deprived of all things that
please their voluptuous senses, their apprehensions will be chan-
ged; they shall understand what a happiness it is to enjoy God,
and what a misery to be expelled from the celestial Paradise.
Our Saviour tells the Jews, there shall be weeping and gnashing
of teeth, when ye shall see Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and all
the Prophets in the kingdom of God, and you yourselves thrust
out, Luke 15. 28. How will they pine with envy at the sight
of that triumphant felicity, of which they shall never be parta-
kers? To see that blessed company entering into the sacred
mansions of light, will make the loss of heaven infinitely more
discernible and terrible to the wicked, who shall be cast
into "outer darkness," and forever be deprived of communion
with God and his saints. રર
'Depart from me," will be as dread-
ful a part of the judgment, as "eternal fire."
With the loss of the most excellent good, the suffering of the
most afflicting painful evil is joined. The sentence is, "Depart
ye cursed into everlasting fire." And if an imaginary sorrow
conceived in the mind without a real external cause, as in mel-
ancholy persons, when gross vapors darken and corrupt the
brightness and purity of the spirits that are requisite for its
cheerful operations, is often so oppressing, that nature sinks un-
der it; how insupportable will the sorrow of condemned sin-
ners be, under the impression and sense of God's almighty and
avenging hand, when it shall fully appear how pure and holy he
is in his anger for sin, how just and dreadful in punishing sin-
ners? It may be, the indulgent sinner may lessen his fear of hell,
by fancying the number of sufferers will assuage the sense of
their misery. But this is a foolish mistake; for the number of
sufferers shall be so far from affording any relief, that the misery
is aggravated by the company and communication of the misera-
ble. Every one is surrounded with sorrows, and by the sights
of woe about him, feels the universal grief. The weeping and
wailing, the cries and dolorous expressions of all the damned, in-
crease the torment and vexation of every one. As when the
wind conspires with the flame, it is more fierce and spreading.
3. The concomitant of sorrow will be fury and rage against
themselves as the true causes of their misery. For God will
OF HELL.
537
:
make such a discovery of his righteous judgment, that not only
the saints shall glorify his justice in the condemnation of the
wicked, but they shall be so convinced of it, as not to be able to
charge their judge with any defect of mercy, or excess of rigor
in his proceedings against them. As the man in the parable of
the marriage feast, when taxed for his presumptuous intrusion
without a wedding garment, "How camest thou hither?" was
speechless so they will find no plea for their justification and
defence, but must receive the eternal doom with silence and
confusion. Then conscience shall revive the bitter remembrance
of all the methods of divine mercy for their salvation, that were
ineffectual by their contempt and obstinacy.
All the compas-
sionate calls by his word, with the holy motions of the spirit,
were like the sowing of seed in the stony ground, that took no
root, and never came to perfection. All his terrible threatenings
were but as thunder to the deaf, or lightening to the blind, that lit-
tle affects them: the bounty of his providence designed "to lead
them to repentance," had the same effect as the showers of heav-
en upon briars and thorns, that make them grow the faster. And
that a mercy so ready to pardon, did not produce in them a cor-
respondent affection of grateful obedient love; but by the un-
worthy provocations they plucked down the vengeance due to
obstinate rebels, will so enrage the damned against themselves,
that they will be less miserable by the misery they suffer, than
by the conviction of their torn minds, that they were the sole
causes of it. "What repentings will be kindled within them,”
for the stupid neglect of "the great salvation" so dearly purchas-
ed, and earnestly offered to them? What a fiery addition to their
torment, that when God was so willing to save them, they were
so wilful to be damned? They will never forgive themselves,
that for the short and mean pleasures of sense, which if enjoyed
a thousand years, cannot recompense the loss of heaven, nor re-
quite the pains of hell for an hour; they must be deprived of the
one, and suffer the other forever.
4. The sorrow and rage will be increased by despair: for
when the wretched sinner sees the evil is peremptory, and no
outlet of hope, he abandons himself to the violence of sorrow,
and by cruel thoughts wounds the heart more, than the fiercest
furies in hell can. This misery that flows from despair, shall be
more fully opened under the distinct consideration of the eternity
of hell. Briefly, as the blessed are in heaven, and heaven is in
them, by those holy and joyful affections that are always exercis-
ed in the divine presence; so the damned are in hell, and hell is
in them by those fierce and miserable passions that continually
prey upon them.
VOL. I.
68
538
OF HELL.
CHAPTER II.
The eternity of misery makes it most intolerable. The justice of God clear-
ed in the eternal punishment of sinners for temporary sins. The wisdom of
God requires that the punishment threatened should be powerful to pre-
serve the commands of the law inviolable. There is an inseparable con-
nexion between the choice and actions of men here, and their condition for-
The damned are unqualified for any favor. The immense guilt of
sin requires a proportion in the punishment.
ever.
II. The eternity of their misery makes it above all other con-
siderations intolerable. Our Saviour repeats it thrice in the
space of a few verses, to terrify those who spare some favorite
corruption, "that in hell their worm dies not, and the fire is nev-
er quenched." God will never reverse his sentence, and they
shall never change their state. How willingly would carnal men
rase the word Eternal out of the scriptures; but to their grief
they find it joined with the felicity of heaven, and the torments
of hell. The second death has all the terrible qualities of the
first, but not the ease and end it brings to misery. All the tears
of those forlorn wretches shall never quench one spark of the
fire. Where are the delicious fare, the music, the purple, and
all the carnal delights of the rich man? They are all changed in-
to a contrary state of misery; and that state is fixed forever.
From his vanishing paradise he descended into an everlasting
hell. In this the vengeance of God is infinitely more heavy than
the most terrible execution from men. Human justice and pow-
er can inflict but one death (that will be soon dispatched) upon
a malefactor worthy to suffer a hundred deaths; if he be con-
demned to the fire, they cannot make him live and die together,
to burn and not be consumed. But God will so far support the
damned in their torments, that they shall always have strength to
feel, though no strength patiently to endure them. Those ex-
treme torments which would extinguish the present life in a mo-
ment, shall be suffered forever. This consideration infinitely ag-
gravates the misery; for the lost soul, racked with the fearful
contemplation of what it must suffer forever, feels, as it were at
once, all the evils that shall torment it in its whole duration. The
perpetuity of the misery is always felt by prevision. This is as
the cruel breaking of the bones upon the wheel, when the soul is
tormented by the foresight of misery, that without allays shall
To make this more
continue in the circulation of eternal ages.
OF HELL.
539
sensible, let us consider, that pain makes the mind observant of the
passing of the hours. In pleasures, time with a quick and silent
motion insensibly slides away; but in troubles, the hours are te-
dious; in violent pains we reckon the minutes as long. It is ob-
servable how passionately the afflicted Psalmist complains, Will
the Lord cast off forever? Will he be favorable no more? Doth
his promise fail forevermore? Hath he forgotton to be gracious?
Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies? Psal. 77. 7. In
what various pathetic forms does he express the same affection?
Though he had assurance that the gracious God would not be al-
ways severe, yet his anguish forced from him complaints, as if
the moment of his trouble were an eternity. But what strains of
sorrow are among the damned, who besides the present sense of
misery, have always in their thoughts the vast eternity their
wherein they must suffer it.
When three terrible evils were propounded to David's choice,
pining famine for three years, or bloody war for three months, or
devouring pestilence of three days; he chose the shortest, though
in itself the heaviest evil.
Many sad days must pass under the other judgments, where
death by anticipation in such variety of shapes would be present-
ed to the mind, that the lingering expectation of it would afflict
more than the sudden stroke; whereas the fury of the pestilence
would be soon over. But the damned have not this relief, “but
shall be tormented day and night forever and ever." How earnestly
do they seek for death, but cannot find it? What a favor would
they esteem it to be annihilated? For certainly, if when the evils.
in the present state are so multiplied, that no comfort is left; or
so violent, that the afflicted person cannot enjoy them, and re-
fresh his sorrowful spirit, death is chosen rather than life; it
cannot be imagined that in the future state, where the misery is
extreme, and nothing remains to allay it, that the damned should
be in love with the unhappy good of simple being, and not choose
an absolute extinction, if it might be.
If any one should be so foolish to think that custom would ren-
der that state more tolerable, he will find a terrible confutation of
his vain fancy. Indeed, continuance under light evils may arm
the mind with patience to bear them; but in great extremities it
makes the evil more ponderous and intolerable. He that is tor-
tured with the stone, or on the rack, the longer the torture con-
tinues, the less able he is to sustain it. In short, as the joy of
heaven is infinitely more ravishing, that the blessed are without
fear of losing it; so the misery of hell is proportionably tormen-
ting, that the damned are absolutely destitute of hopes of release.
"It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,"
who lives forever, and will punish forever incorrigible sinners!
There are some who strongly fancy, it is not consistent with
divine justice to inflict an eternal punishment for temporary sins.
540
OF HELL.
Therefore they soften the sentence, by interpreting the words of
Christ, "These shall go into everlasting punishment," of the an-
nihilation of impenitent sinners; that is, they shall be forever
deprived of heaven, but not suffer torments forever.
To this there is a clear answer: 1. The direct opposition be-
tween everlasting punishment, and everlasting life, in the words
of Christ, is a convincing argument they are to be understood in
the same extent for an absolute eternity. And the words in the
revelation are so express, that they admit no mollifying interpret-
ation, "They are tormented day and night, forever and ever :"
which necessarily infer, the tormented have life and sense forever.
Now that in Scripture it is evident, that God hath decreed and
denounced eternal punishment to obstinate sinners, is sufficient
to satisfy all inquiries about the justice of it: for divine justice is
the correspondence of God's will and actions with the perfections
of his holy nature. From hence we may infer with invincible
evidence, that whatever he pronounces in judgment, and con-
sequently inflicts, is most righteous. The truth is, we may
as easily conceive there is no God, as that God is unjust; be-
eause absolute rectitude is an inseparable perfection of his na-
ture. Thus the Apostle with abhorrence rejects the ques-
tion, Is God unrighteous who taketh vengeance? God for-
bid for then how shall God judge the world? Rom. 3. 5, 6.
That were to deny him to be God, who is the creator, and king,
and judge of the world. It is a full reply to all the pitiful shifts
that are made use of to elude the plain meaning of the eternal
judgment that will pass upon the wicked: Shall mortal man be
more just than God? Shall a man be more pure than his Maker ?
Job 4. 17. The reprobates have now some bold advocates, that
plead those things for favor to them, which they will not dare to
plead for themselves at the last day. The holy judge will then
eut off all their excuses, and reduce them to a defenceless silence,
before he cuts them off. "God will be justified in his sentence,
and overcome when he judgeth.”
The righteousness of the proceedings at the last day, in deter-
mining the wicked to a state of everlasting torments, has been
considered in the discourse of Judgment, and will farther appear
by the following considerations.
1. The wisdom of God requires, that the punishment threaten-
ed in his law, as it must be so firmly decreed, that all obstinate
rebels shall of necessity undergo it; so it must incomparably ex-
ceed all temporal evils, to which men may be exposed for their
obedience to the divine commands, otherwise the threatening
would not be an effectual restraint from sin for the propinquity
of an evil makes a strong impression on the mind, and a present
fear makes a person solicitous to avoid the incursion of what is
ready to seize on him, without forecasting to prevent an evil
looked on at a distance. Therefore that the sanction of the di-
OF HELL.
541
د,
vine law may preserve the precepts inviolable, that there may be
a continual reverence of it, and a fixed resolution in the heart
not to transgress, the penalty threatened must be in its own na-
ture so terrible, that the fear of it may conquer the apprehen-
sion of all present evils that can be inflicted to constrain us to
sin. Therefore our Saviour warns his disciples, " Fear not them
that can kill the body (make that part die that is mortal) but
fear him that after he has killed, has power to cast into hell;
yea, I say unto you, fear him.' Now if the threatening of an
everlasting hell, through infidelity and inconsideration, be not
effectual in the minds of men to restrain them from sin; if tem-
porary torments in the next state were only threatened, which
are infinitely more easy and tolerable, carnal sinners would fol-
low the swing of their corrupt appetites, and commit iniquity
with greediness: this would seem to reflect upon the wisdom of
the lawgiver, as if he were defective in not binding his subjects.
firmly to their duty, and the ends of government would not be
obtained.
2. God, as the sovereign Ruler of the world, has established
an inseparable connexion between the choice and actions of men
here, and their future condition forever. The promised reward
of obedience is so excellent and eternal, that all the allurements
of the world vanish in comparison with it: and there is such an
infallible assurance of this reward in the word of God, that all,
and only those who sincerely obey his commands, shall enjoy it
in the future state; that a serious believer who ponders things,
cannot be diverted from his duty by present temptations. Be-
sides, by a chain of consequences sinful pleasures are linked
with eternal punishment threatened in the divine law; and he
that will enjoy forbidden pleasures, binds himself to suffer all
the pains annexed to them. Now when God has, from his ex-
cellent goodness and undeserved mercy, assured men of the
glory and joys of heaven that are unspeakable and eternal, upon
the gracious terms of the gospel; and, upon their despising it,
threatened eternal misery, if men absolutely neglect so great
salvation; how reasonable is it they should inherit their own
choice? Those who do not seek the kingdom of heaven, cannot
escape hell, but by eternal consequence it will be their portion.
There is no middle state in the next world, no tolerable medioc-
rity, but two contrary states; yet alike in this, that the happiness
and misery are equally eternal: and it is just, that all who neg-
lect eternal life, should suffer eternal death; for it is the natural
and necessary consequence of their option; therefore sinners
are charged with extreme madness, to wrong their own souls, and
to love death, Prov. 8. 36.
3. It will appear how unqualified the damned are for the least
favor, if we consider their continual hatred and blasphemies of
God. The seeds of this are in wicked obstinate sinners here,
542
OF HELL.
:
who are styled "haters of God;" but in the damned this enmity
is direct and explicit, the fever is heightened into a frenzy, the
blessed God is the object of their curses and eternal aversation.
Our Saviour tells us, that in hell there "is weeping and gnash-
ing of teeth;" extreme sorrow, and extreme fury. Despair and
rage are the proper passions of lost souls. For when the guilty
sufferers are so weak, that they cannot by patience endure their
torments, nor by strength resist the power that inflicts them, and
are wicked and stubborn, they are irritated by their misery, and
foam out blasphemies against the righteous judge. If their rage
could extend to him, and their power were equal to their de-
sires, they would dethrone the most high. Hatred takes pleas-
ure in revenge, either real or imaginary and although God is
infinitely above the transports of their fury, and all their rancor-
ous imprecations are reflexively pernicious to themselves, like
arrows shot against the sun, that fall down upon their heads that
shot them; yet they are always venting their malice against the
just power that torments them. It is said of the worshippers of
the beast, that they gnawed their tongues for pain, and blas-
phemed the God of heaven because of their pains, Rev. 16. 10,
11. The torment and blasphemies of those impenitent idolaters,
are a true representation of the state of the damned. From hence
it appears they are the proper objects of revenging justice. How
can we reasonably conceive, that God, in favor to the reprobates,
should cross the established order of creation? For two ranks of
beings were made, the material of perishing principles, the spir-
itual of an immortal duration and will God withdraw his conser-
vative power of the guilty soul in its immortality, and to put an
end to its deserved misery, and self-tormenting reflections, anni-
hilate it? If a criminal were justly condemed to a severe
punishment, and should contumeliously and fiercely reproach the
prince, by whose authority he was condemned, could it be ex-
pected there should be a mitigation of the sentence? And is it a
thought consistent with the reasonable mind, that the righteous
judge of the world will reverse or mitigate the sentence against.
the damned, who blaspheme his majesty and justice? And if they
were as omnipotent to effect as they are malicious to desire,
would destroy his being. It is true, the divine threatening does
not bind God to a rigorous execution of it upon sinners: he has
declared, if sinners will turn from their evil ways, he will repent
of the evil he purposed to do unto them, Jer. 26. 3. But when
threatenings are part of the laws whereby men are governed, it is
congruous to the wisdom and justice of the lawgiver to execute
them in their full force upon the obstinate offenders; withal con-
sidering the inflicting of them is so far from working any ingenu-
ous change in those rebels, that thereby they become more fierce
and obdurate.
Lastly, The immense guilt that adheres to sin, requires a pro-
OF HELL.
543
:
portion in the punishment. It is a rule in all courts of judicature,
that the degrees of an offence arise according to the degrees of
dignity of the person offended. Now the majesty of God is truly
infinite, against whom sin is committed; and consequently the
guilt of sin exceeds our boundless thoughts. This is the reason
of the sentence, "Cursed is every one that continueth not in all
things which are written in the book of the law to do them."
The curse threatened, includes the first and second death. What
a dishonor is it to the God of glory, that proud dust should fly in
his face, and control his authority? What a provocation, that the
reasonable creature, that is naturally and nescessarily a subject,
should despise the divine law and lawgiver? Though carnal minds
alleviate the guilt of sin, yet weighed "in the scales of the sanc-
tuary," it is found so heavy, that no punishment inflicted on sin-
ners exceeds, either in the degrees or duration, the desert of sin.
God's justice is not satisfied in depriving them of heaven, but
inflicts the most heavy punishment upon sense and conscience in
the damned for as the soul and body in their state of union in
this life were both guilty, the one as the guide, the other as the
instrument of sin; so it is equal, when reunited, they should feel
the penal effects of it. Sinners shall then be tormented wherein
they were most delighted; they shall be invested with those ob-
jects that will cause the most dolorous perception in their sensitive
faculties. The "Lake of fire and brimstone, the blackness of
darkness forever," are words of a terrible signification. But no
words can fully express the terrible ingredients of their misery:
the punishment will be in proportion to the glory of God's majes-
ty that is provoked, and the extent of his power. And as the
soul was the principal, and the body but an ascessary in the
works of sin; so its capacious faculties shall be far more torment-
ed than the limited faculties of the outward senses. The fiery
attributes of God shall be transmitted through the glass of con-
science, and concentered upon damned spirits: the fire without
is not so tormenting as the fire within them. How will the tor-
menting passions be inflamed? What rancor, reluctance, and rage
against the just power that sentenced them to hell? What impa-
tience and indignation against themselves for their wilful sins, the
just cause of it? How will they curse their creation, and wish
their utter extinction, as the final remedy of their misery? But
all their ardent wishes are in vain; for the guilt of sin will nev-
er be expiated, nor God so far reconciled as to annihilate them.
As long as there is justice in heaven, or fire in hell; as long as
God and eternity shall continue, they must suffer those torments
which the strength and patience of an angel cannot bear an hour.
544
OF HELL.
CHAPTER III.
Practical Inferences. The tender mercies of God to men, in revealing the
prepared plagues for sinners, to prevent their misery. Carnal men are more
capable of conceiving the torments of hell, than the joys of heaven. They
are more apt to be moved by them. The desperate folly of sinners, to
choose the pleasures of sin, notwithstanding the dreadful and everlasting
torments that follow sin. The steadfast belief and serious consideration of
eternal death, the wages of sin, is a prevailing motive to abhor and forsake
it. Our dear obligations to our Saviour, who delivers us from the wrath to
come.
I shall now draw some practical inferences, and conclude this
subject.
[1.] From the revelation in scripture of the dreadful, punish-
ment prepared for unreformed sinners in the next state, we may
understand the tender mercies of God to men; how willingly he
is they should be saved, who are so wilful to be damned. Hell
is represented to them by the most violent figures, to terrify
their imaginations, and strongly affect their minds, "they may
flee from the wrath to come.' "
God counsels, commands, intreats,
urges sinners to be wise, to foresee and prevent the evil that
every hour is approaching to them; and with compassion and
indignation laments their misery, and reproaches their folly in
bringing it upon themselves. The divine mercy is as eminently
and apparently declared to men in the present corrupt state, in
threatening hell to excite their fear, as in promising heaven to
allure their hopes. For if carnal indulgent sinners are not roused
by a quick apprehension of hell, they will securely enjoy their
pernicious pleasures, and despise the blessed reward, and heaven
would be as empty of human souls, as it is full of glory.
(1.) Because they are more capable to conceive of the torments
of hell than the joys of heaven; storms and darkness are more
easily drawn by a pencil, than a clear calm day. Fire mixed
with brimstone, is very painful to sense; and the fancy strongly
represents its vehemence in tormenting the body: and what
misery the uncessant remorse of the guilty conscience will cause
in the damned hereafter, is in part understood by the secret ac-
cusations and twinges of conscience in self-condemning sinners
here. But they are absolutely strangers to the joys of the Holy
Ghost, to the delights of the soul in communion with God, and
the peace of conscience in his favor. They cannot without ex-
perience, "know how good the Lord is," no more than see a taste.
OF HELL.
545
To discourse to them of spiritual pleasures that flow from the
divine presence, of the happiness of the saints "that are before
the throne of God, and serve him in his temple," is to speak
with the tongue of an angel * unintelligible things. Their minds
and language are confined to sensible things. The "natural
man receives not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are
foolishness to him; neither can he know them, because they are
spiritually discerned." Their may be in the carnal mind a con-
ception of heaven, as a sanctuary wherein they may be secured
from the wrath of God, and some smothering confused thoughts
of its felicity, as the idea of light and colors in one blind from
his birth; but only "the pure in heart can see God," as in the
perfect vision of glory hereafter, so in the imperfect reflection of
it here.
(2.) Carnal men are more disposed to be wrought upon, by
representing the torment of hell, than the joys of heaven. For
we cannot love but what is known, nor enjoy but what is
loved. And as the purification of the heart from vicious affec-
tions, is an excellent means to clear the mind; so the illustration
of the mind is very influential to warm the heart. The true
conception of heaven in its amiable excellencies, would power-
fully and sweetly ravish the affections; and of this, prepared
souls are only capable. But those who are sensual, are without
relish and spiritual happiness, and are allured or terrified only
with what is pleasant or painful to flesh.
It is recorded as the unparalleled folly of Nero, that when
he was ready to cut his own throat, to avoid the fury of the
multitude, he broke forth into great expressions of sorrow, what
an excellent artist he died! It was not the loss of the Roman
empire that so much troubled him, as that so much skill in mu-
sic died with him. He valued himself more as a fiddler, than an
emperor. Thus carnal men with a folly infinitely more prodi-
gious, when death is near, are not so much afflicted with the
loss of the crown of glory, and the kingdom of heaven, as with
their present leaving this world and its vanities. This makes
death intolerably bitter. Till the love of God purifies the heart,
the fruition of his presence is not esteemed or desired. A seraph
sent from the presence of God with a flaming coal from the altar,
touched the lips of the holy prophet, and his heart was presently
melted into a compliance with the divine will. But if a rebel
angel that burns with another fire than of divine love, were
dispatched from hell with a coal from that altar, where so many
victims are offered to divine justice as there are damned souls,
and touched obdurate sinners, that they might have a lively
* Si frigido loquar, nescit quod loquor. Aug.
† Identidem dictitans, qualis artifex pereo! Suet.
VOL. I.
69
546
OF HELL.
sense what it is to burn forever, it were the most congruous and
effectual means to reclaim them: like stubborn metals, they are
only made pliant by the fire. From what has been said, we may
observe the heavenly harmony between mercy and justice in
God: he is the father of mercy, it is his natural offspring, his
primary inclination to the creature; and the threatening of venge-
ance against sinners, is a gracious design to constrain them with
humility and repenting affections to seek his favor. Briefly, his
severity and flaming displeasure never destroys sinners, but to
revenge the abuse of his neglected benignity and clemency.
[2.] This shews the woful depravation of the minds and wills
of men, that choose sin, when thinly painted over with pleasure,
notwithstanding the most dreadful and durable torment, the cer-
tain consequences of it. Desperate folly! either they believe,
or do not, the eternal torment of hell. If they do not, how pro-
digious is their impiety? If they do, it is more prodigious they
dare indulge their vicious affections. A wicked believer is more
monstrous and guilty than a wicked infidel.
In some there is atheism full of folly, or folly full of atheism,
that they will not believe the prepared plagues for the wicked
in the next state, because they have no sensible proof of them.
Reason, assisted by divine revelation, affords so clear an evi-
dence of the future state, and rewards and punishments ´in it,
that if any sincerely apply themselves to consider things, he will
receive the most affective conviction of them. It is true, there
is not sensible evidence; for God will try our faith, before he
satisfies our sight; partly, that we may honor his veracity, by
yielding a firm assent to his word, before the actual accomplish-
ment of what is promised or threatened; and partly, that our
obedience may be voluntary and unconstrained, that his goodness
may take its rise to reward us. But these presumptuous infidels
live as if they had no spirit, nothing of understanding in them:
they are wholly under the dominion of sense, as if they were
free and lawless, independent and unaccountable; as if the most
high governor of the world were an inferior being, without pow-
er and justice to vindicate the honor of his despised deity.
They do not fear hell, but are afraid they should be fearful of it.
This is such a piece of folly (but infinitely more woful) as that
of the West Indians, who at their first invasion by the Spaniards,
were so terrified by their glittering swords, that they presently
fled, and very considerately resolved to hide themselves in the
day, and assault their enemies in the night. They were fearful
to see their danger, and rash to encounter it; and fighting in the
dark, were killed in the dark. The threatenings of eternal
death, are the brandishing of God's "glittering sword" before
he strikes; and sensual infidels are afraid, lest the belief of
those terrible truths should pierce into their breasts; therefore
are utterly averse from due considering their danger, and will
OF HELL.
547
not foresee what they shall certainly suffer. It is in vain to offer
arguments to convince them; for they are as deaf as adders to
the wisest instructions, till sense extort an acknowledgment from
them they have hardened their hearts and faces against all re-
proofs, and by an open contempt of scripture threatenings, are
past reclaiming. They are now fearless of that judgment, the
thoughts whereof make the devils tremble; but the time will
shortly come, when the word of the righteous God, which now
they despise, shall irresistibly and immediately (like lightning
shot from heaven) destroy them. There are many degrees of
sin, many steps in the descent to hell; but the lowest and near-
est the gate of that infernal prison, is the scornful derision of
God's dreadful preparations for the wicked.
Others in the christian church, who profess and presume they
are true believers, yet by living indulgently in their pleasant or
profitable sins, discover their faith is counterfeit, such a superfi-
cial assent to the truth of God's word that is without efficacy,
and will not avail them at the last. Unfeigned faith of the di-
vine threatenings, produces such a fear as would make men cir-
cumspect over their hearts and ways: the fear of a present de-
structive evil, controls the most eager appetites. It is recorded,
that when the army of Israel was in pursuit of the Philistines,
Saul (to complete his victory) forbade, upon pain of death, that
any should taste food till the sun was down. In the chase of
their enemies, they pass through a wood dropping with honey;
yet notwithstanding their hunger and faintness, and the easy
provisions before them, no man so much as tasted it; "for the
people feared the king's oath." And did men truly believe and
fear the law of God, threatening hell for sin, would they dare
to commit it, though invited by pleasant temptations? Nay, not
only a strong fear, but the mere suspicion of great danger, will
restrain the most vehement desires of nature.
What person,
though inflamed with thirst, would drink a glass of cool liquor,
if he suspected that deadly poison were mixed with it? And if
men were persuaded that sin is attended with eternal death, would
"they drink in iniquity like water?" The Devils themselves
are not able to conquer the fear of judgment to come, they "be-
lieve and tremble :" therefore when it is not active upon the
conscience, it is either because men do not believe it, or they
fancy that retaining their beloved lusts, they may obtain an easy
absolution, and escape the damnation of hell, which the eternal
Judge has declared shall be the punishment of all that will not
cut off the right hand, and pluck out the right eye, separate
their dearest corruptions from them. Astonishing perverseness!
How many will not discern nor censure that folly in themselves,
which they will condemn in others for extreme madness?
one riotously lavishes away his estate, and, for the short plea-
sure of a few years, be reduced with the prodigal to extreme
If
548
OF HELL.
poverty, and to loathsome imprisonment all his life after; would
he not be esteemed to have been beside himself? Yet this is
a very tolerable case, in comparison of exposing the soul to
eternal vengeance, for the pleasures of sin that are but for a
season.
[3.] Let us steadfastly believe, and frequently consider, that
eternal death is the wages of sin, that we may renounce it with
the deepest abhorrence, and, forsake it forever. We are assured,
from the wisdom and compassion of our Saviour, that it is a pow-
erful means to mortify the inclination to sin, and to induce us to
prevent and resist all temptations. The subtile tempter cannot
present any motive, that to a rectified mind will make sin eligi-
ble. Let the scales be even, and put in one all the delights of
the senses, all the pleasures and honors of the world, that are
the elements of carnal felicity; how light are they against the
heavenly glory? Will the gain of the world compensate the
loss of the soul and salvation forever? If there were any pos-
sible comparison between deluded transient vanities, and the
happiness that is substantial and satisfying forever, the choice
would be more difficult, and the mistake less culpable; but they
vanish into nothing in the comparison. According to the judg-
ment of sense, would any one choose the enjoyment of the most
exquisite pleasures for a year, and afterwards be content to burn
in a furnace for a day, much less to enjoy them for a day, and to
burn for a year? What stupid brutes are they, who for moment-
ary delights incur the fiery indignation of God forever? Try
your finger with the flame of a candle, you will soon discover
your weakness. Will the remembrance of sensual delights allay
the torments of the damned? When carnal lusts are most inflam-
ed, and objects are present, pain will extinguish all the pleasure
of the senses and if actual employment cannot afford delight
when the body is under a disease, will the reflections upon past
pleasures in the fancy and memory refresh the damned in their
extreme torments? No; the remembrance will infinitely increase
their anguish, that for such seeming and short pleasures, they
brought upon themselves misery intolerable, without ease or
end. O that man would strip sin of its disguises, and wash off its
flattering colors, and look into its odious nature, and to the con-
sequential evils of it in the next world! O that they would con-
sider they hang by slender strings (a little breath that expires
every minute) over the bottomless pit, and that within a little
while nothing will remain of the pleasures of sin, but the undy-
ing worm, and the ever-living flames! This would be a means to
raise and preserve in them an invincible resolution and reluctan-
cy, against all temptations to sin and provoke God. But how
hardly are men induced to exercise their minds on this terrible
object? They think least of hell, who have most reason to con-
sider it.
OF HELL.
549
To this I must add, that the mere fear of hell, and the judicial
impression upon conscience from it, is not sufficient to convert
men to God: for that servile affection, though it may stop a
temptation, and hinder the eruption of a lust into the gross act,
yet does not renew the nature, and make men holy and heavenly.
There may be a respective dislike of sin, with a direct affection
to it. Besides, that religion that is the mere effect of fear, will
be, according to the nature of its principle, with resistance and
trouble, wavering and inconstant: for tormenting fear is repug-
nant to the human nature, and will be expelled, if possible. In
short, the fear of hell may be only a natural affection, that recoils
from what is painful to sense: therefore it is the great design of
the gospel, by the fear of hell, as a powerful preparative, to
make way for the love of God, who offers pardon and indemnity
to all returning sinners, and for the hope of heaven, the blessed
reward promised to them. No offers of mercy will prevail to
make sinners to yield themselves, till they are stormed by the
terrors of the Lord. But when the fear of hell has made a
breach, divine grace enters, and takes possession. As the vir-
tue of the loadstone, when encompassed and armed with iron, is
increased, and draws a far greater weight than when it is naked
and single; thus the attractives of heaven are more powerful to
move the hearts of men, when enforced from the terrors of hell.
Now the love of God, and the hope of heaven, are spiritual
affections; and the obedience that flows from them is voluntary,
from the entire consent of the soul, and persevering.
Lastly, From the consideration of the punishment determined
for sin, we may understand how dear our engagements are to the
Lord Jesus Christ. The rector and judge of the world would
not release the guilty without a ransom, nor the surety without
satisfaction; and the Son of God most willingly and compassion-
ately gave his precious blood the price of our redemption. He
obtained the spirit of holiness, to illuminate our minds, to incline
our wills, to sanctify our affections; without whose omnipotent
grace, neither the hopes or fears of things spiritual and future
would ever have cleansed and changed our hearts and lives. We
are naturally as senseless as the dead, as to what concerns our
everlasting peace, blind and brutish; and without fear should
plunge ourselves into destruction, if the spirit of power, and of
a sound mind, did not quicken and direct us in the way to ever-
lasting life. O that we might feel our dear obligations to him,
who has "delivered us from the wrath to come," and purchased
for us a felicity perfect, and without end! I would not lessen and
disparage one divine work, to advance and extol another; but it
is a truth that shines with its own light, and is declared by our
Saviour, that our redemption from hell to heaven, is a more ex-
* Nisi timore incipiat komo deum colere, non perveniet ad amorem. Aug.
550
OF HELL.
cellent benefit than our creation; in as much as our well-being
is better than our being, and eternal misery is infinitely worse
than mere not-being. Our Saviour speaks of Judas, "It had
been better for him if he had never been born." How engag-
ing is the love of Christ, who raised us from the bottom of hell
to the bosom of God, the seat of happiness! If his perfections
were not most amiable and attractive, yet that he died for us,
should make him the object of our most ardent affections.
"To
those who believe, he is precious" To those who have felt
their undone condition, and that by his merits and mediation are
restored to the favor of God, that are freed from tormenting
fears, and revived with the sweetest hopes, he is, and will be
eminently and eternally precious. "Blessing, and honor, and
glory, and power, be to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and
to the Lamb forever and ever."
B 478431

URL $22
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 06823 8362
BX
9315
.H86
Howe
Select practical
works
1830
}
}
1
}
}
+
1
}
043042
E