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 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THK 
 
 University of California. 
 
 GIFT OF" 
 
 Received <U-cft?I< ..> ,8 vK- 
 
 Accession No. 7 22 fi /u 5 . Class No. 
 
THE LENTEN SEASON. 
 
 DISCOURSES 
 
 RETIREMENT AND SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 SELECTED FROM THE WORKS OF THE MOST EMINENT 
 
 ENGLISH DIVINES OF THE SEVENTEENTH AND 
 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES. 
 
 THK 
 
 "NIVERSITY 
 
 FEOM THE LAST LONDON EDITION. 
 
 NEW YORK: * 
 THOMAS N. STANFORD, 
 
 63T BROADWAY. 
 
 1857. 
 

 yt+a^ 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 What machinery is to man's physical powers— 
 what rules are to his memory, and other intelligent 
 faculties — such is discipline to his moral and reli- 
 gious being : at once .the evidence and support of 
 weakness. Had he persevered in his original in- 
 tegrity, stated forms and observances would have 
 been as needless to him, as artificial reservoirs and 
 a painful system of irrigation, in " a land of brooks 
 and fountains," and amid the " sound of" a perpe- 
 tual " abundance of rain." In the Paradisiacal state, 
 every day was a day of worship ; every spot was 
 sacred : the sun no sooner rose, than its light was 
 a summons to prayer : every opening glade, and 
 embowered valley, presented a temple ; for at all 
 times/and in all places, the pious heart overflowed 
 with love to its Maker, and the grateful tongue 
 was ready to offer its sacrifice of prayer and praise. 
 But man fell ; and sin entered into the world, 
 and labour, and sorrow A thousand necessities 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 now distracted his attention ; a thousand desires 
 engrossed his heart. He was continually drawn 
 aside from meditation upon great and enduring 
 things, and from the care of his- nobler being, in 
 search of individual enjoyment, or by the urgency 
 of domestic wants. In proportion as societies mul- 
 tiplied, and civilization advanced, these tendencies 
 and necessities increased ; for when men congre- 
 gate together, in cities and large communities, it is 
 not in order to be taught to think, or stimulated to 
 devotion, but to seek pleasure ; to contrive by the 
 combined ingenuity of many the most efficient 
 methods of averting misery ; to accumulate wealth, 
 and to extend and consolidate power : — in short, if 
 left to themselves, they inevitably become more 
 and more absorbed in the objects and occupations 
 of the present, and daily grow more disinclined to 
 look into or above themselves, for such as relate to 
 things permanent and imperishable. Hence, but 
 for seasons and methods of stated recalment from 
 the importunites of worldly pursuits, there will ever 
 be among the multitude a swift and unvarying 
 progress in infidelity and vice. That the whole 
 antediluvian race had, in so few generations, " cor 
 rupted themselves," and turned from God, can be 
 accounted for only by the self-productive quality 
 of evil, in a rapidly increasing population, as yet 
 unsubjected to the wholesome restraints of positive 
 ordinances. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. IX 
 
 The like tendency, which so quickly made its 
 appearance among the descendants of Noah, was 
 mercifully arrested by the origination of various 
 languages in the plains of Mesopotamia, and by 
 the disposition to emigrate, to which that mysterious 
 event gave rise. But when they too had greatly 
 multiplied, and numerous communities were spread 
 far and wide, on all sides, from the central point of 
 population, then had arrived the period when the 
 knowledge of God, and the hope of a promised Deli- 
 verer could no longer be maintained in their purity, 
 without some system which should convert the social 
 fabric itself into an artificial defence for their pre- 
 servation against the inroads of surrounding dark- 
 ness and impending barbarism. A solitary line of 
 inspired patriarchs was no longer sufficient to guard 
 the hallowed flame upon the altar nor the simple 
 economy of a household, an adequate provision 
 for its ministry. From these, therefore, a nation 
 was raised up, set apart, and furnished for the pur- 
 pose with a system of exclusive ordinances, the 
 elaborateness of whose details, no less than the 
 awful grandeur of its sanctions, fully evinces the 
 difficulty and importance of the trust committed to 
 it, as the sole depository of revealed truth, during 
 fifteen hundred years of political change, and of 
 moral and theological eclipse, in the world around. 
 
 The religious observances of the Jews were of a 
 character consistent with this design. The conse- 
 
X INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 quences of sin were to be averted by the interven- 
 tion of the priest; by the performance of public 
 expiatory rites, (rites, however, the efficacy of which 
 belonged to them only in their character of sym- 
 bols ) rather than to the heartfelt penitence of the 
 offender. Though ' by the law is the knowledge 
 of sin ;' though the sternness of its language and 
 the rigour of its exactions, sufficiently declared to 
 the nation their own sad deserts, and the strictness 
 of the divine justice; yet but few of its ordinances 
 relate to the parts and instruments of true repent- 
 ance. Only one day of solemn humiliation was 
 appointed to be observed yearly. Custom, indeed, 
 and the authority of the heads of the people, 
 added others, from time to time, as marks of afflic- 
 tion and mourning for national calamities. Of 
 individual abstinence and humiliation, we have 
 numerous instances recorded of pious Hebrews, 
 in every period of the Commonwealth ; and it is 
 evident, from the references made to the sub- 
 ject in the Gospels, that frequent fasts, and other 
 acts of mortification, were regarded in our Lord's 
 time, and long had been, as essential parts of 
 piety. (Matt. vi. 16, 18; ix. 14; Luke, xviii. 22.) 
 
 With the abolition of the Hebrew ritual, no ob- 
 servance was allowed to perish, which possessed 
 such a moral force, or was capable of such general 
 application, as rendered it of value for all persons 
 and for all ages. The things which * decayed and 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XI 
 
 waxed old, and vanished away/ were allowed to 
 do so, because with the change of circumstances, 
 and the giving of 'a better dispensation,' they 
 had become needless, inapplicable, or inefficient. 
 The fabric of the Mosaic rites and ceremonies fell, 
 because it was fitted exclusively for a nation which 
 was no longer to exist in a condition, or with a pur- 
 pose, that would require or admit its continuance. 
 Whatever tended, however, to moral improvement, 
 by promoting personal sanctity, and intercourse 
 with God, was to remain 
 
 Hence the respect with which our Saviour spoke 
 of Fasting. He did not enjoin it upon his imme- 
 diate disciples — at least, during his abode among 
 them. The mission of John the Baptist was peni- 
 tential and preparatory. The Messiah's advent 
 was ushered in by ' the sign of the prophet Jonah ;' 
 that is, by a call to repentance and humiliation; 
 but our Lord put, in this respect, a marked distinc- 
 tion between his own mission and that of his pre- 
 cursor. When reproached that his disciples did 
 not fast so often as those of the pharisees, or of 
 John, he answered, that f the children of the bride- 
 chamber ought not to fast while the bridegroom 
 was with them ; but/ added he, ' the days will 
 come when the bridegroom shall be taken away 
 from them, and then shall they fast/ He denies 
 not — nay, he admits by implication, the propriety 
 of the observance at fitting seasons. The same is 
 
Xll INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 the inference from the sermon on the mount ; for 
 though he enjoined upon that occasion no particular 
 or stated period of abstinence, he yet gives direc- 
 tions for observing this discipline, as an occasional 
 duty, with sincerity, and an avoidance of hypocri- 
 tical display. And by his miraculous fast of forty 
 days' duration, while exercised with temptations ot 
 peculiar violence, he bequeathed to the church, 
 what in every age it has regarded as an example of 
 the utility— in some cases, the necessity — of such 
 external aids to the regulation of those appetites 
 and affections which, while in the world, so easily 
 betray us into sin; and to prepare the mind for 
 future virtuous exertions. 
 
 Much angry discussion respecting the constitu- 
 tion and discipline of the Christian church, in the 
 apostolic age, might have been spared, had the 
 contending parties previously agreed upon these 
 two obvious facts : — first, that the religious senti- 
 ments of the Christians of the first century were 
 too pure, and their zeal too ardent, either greatly 
 to need the stimulus supplied by positive institu- 
 tions, or to bear the coercive force of authoritative 
 discipline : secondly, that the external condition 
 of the new community allowed of no observances 
 beyond the most simple and essential. Outward 
 forms and helps to devotion are needless, where the 
 inward principle, in their tendency to sustain and 
 promote which lies their only worth, exists already 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. Xlll 
 
 in the plenitude of its power, As long as the fer- 
 vent spirit of piety retained its primitive lustre un- 
 clouded, what occasion could there be for the 
 imposition of onerous observances ? Custom and 
 ceremony, peculiar seasons for awakening and 
 demonstrating religious feeling, were little regard- 
 ed, until the declining ardour of the Christian 
 body sought — because it felt that it then wanted — 
 such extraneous assistances. 
 
 That from the times of the apostles, however, 
 two remarkable institutions, designed for this pur- 
 pose, were in existence, has been often shown : 
 These are — the dedication of the first day of the week 
 to works of piety and services of religious gratitude, 
 in memory of our Saviour's resurrection ; and the 
 annual appropriation of a certain period to the 
 several parts of the discipline of repentance. As 
 the season appointed for this latter appears to have 
 always immediately preceded the anniversary of 
 the crucifixion, it has obtained in our language the 
 name of Lent — from the Saxon word lengten or 
 lenten — spring. 1 That the Lent fast is of the 
 
 1 The occurrence of the quadragesimal fast at this particular 
 season could hardly fail to be turned to a moral account by the 
 pious fancy of the Fathers : " Ut," observes Ambrose,. " in qua- 
 dragesima constricta hiemali gelu terra resolvitur, et aquarum 
 fluenta meatus suos, glacie liquefacta, recipiunt ; sic quoque 
 corporum nostrorum hoc eodum tempore contracta sceleribus 
 peccata solvuntur, et vita nostrae purior cursus, liquefacto rigore 
 diaboli, meatum suum pristinum recognoscit."— As in Lent the 
 earth is freed from the constraint of the winter's frost, and upon 
 
XIV INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 highest antiquity in the church, cannot be doubted. 
 In the celebrated dispute between the eastern and 
 western churches, respecting Easter, which was 
 concluded by the authority of the Council of Nice, 
 in 325, both the contending parties agreed that a 
 fast ought to precede it ; the subject of the dispute 
 being, in fact, on what day the fast should termi- 
 nate ; and it is evident from the language used on 
 this subject, by the early Christian writers, those 
 of this century especially, that it was universally 
 observed as of apostolical authority. As no ac- 
 count of its origin is extant, no probable evidence 
 can be adduced in opposition to this opinion. 1 
 Whether from its first institution it was of forty 
 days' duration, cannot be so easily ascertained. 
 That this was the period assigned to it, however, at 
 the time of the Council of Nice, appears from 
 the name given to it in the decree of that assem- 
 bly, the same by which it has been universally 
 known in the church in later times. 8 It would 
 seem, however, that the period long varied according 
 
 the thawing of the ice the streams renew their course ; so in the 
 same season is the sinner set free from the bondage of guilt, and 
 his life, no longer frost-bound as it were by Satan, resumes its 
 pristine course, in purity. — Serm. xii. de Sancta Quad. 
 
 1 Bishop Gunning, in his " Paschal, or Lent Fast Apostolical 
 and Perpetual," cites a long array of the Fathers of the earliest 
 times and highest credit, from Irenaeus, downward, in favour of 
 its apostolic origin. 
 
 * SvvoSoi yiveffOuxrav fxia fiiv irpb ti)q TtaopaKorijg. — 
 Can. 5 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XV 
 
 to different times and places, but was finally deter- 
 mined as we at present observe it, viz. as including 
 forty days, without reckoning- Sundays, on which 
 it has never been the custom of the church to fast. 
 This number was most likely fixed in imitation of 
 Moses and Elias; but, more particularly, of our 
 Lord's fast of forty days in the wilderness. 1 
 
 The discipline practised in the primitive ages 
 during Lent, was directed to the following objects: 
 — to fit the whole body of the faithful, or Christians 
 already baptized, for receiving the Lord's Supper 
 in the celebration of Easter, by acts of mortification, 
 repentance, and public devotion; to prepare the 
 catechumens for admission into the church by 
 baptism ; and to exercise penitent offenders in the 
 discipline necessary before absolution. Great re- 
 liance was placed in the efficacy of fasting ; none 
 but infants or persons infirm from age or other 
 causes being allowed to taste food till the afternoon, 
 on any day except Sunday. 2 All public games 
 and amusements were prohibited with the utmost 
 severity. 3 After the establishment of Christianity 
 
 1 Chrysost. Horn. prim, in Genes. 
 
 2 Moneo et contestor vos, ut nullus vestrum, nisi forte sit in- 
 firmus, aut infans, et nisi in dominicis diebus, ante nonam man- 
 ducet aut bibat. — Ambr. Ser. ix. in Sanct. Quad. 
 
 3 Chrysost. Horn. vi. and vii. in Gen. In the former of these 
 discourses the eloquent Father severely reproaches the people of 
 Antioch for being present at the games of the circus during 
 Lent. 
 
XVI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY 
 
 as the religion of the state, the civil power vied 
 with the ecclesiastical in respect for this solemn sea- 
 son. The Theodosian code forbids all prosecution 
 at this time for criminal actions, which might sub- 
 ject the offender to torture. As the close of the 
 forty days approached, the severity of the observ- 
 ance was increased in proportion. The week im- 
 mediately preceding Easter, our " Passion Week," 
 called by the early Christians the " Great" or 
 "Holy Week," 1 was entirely employed in devotion 
 and the distribution of alms, and was marked by 
 a more rigid abstinence. Servants were allowed 
 relaxation from labour, all legal processes were sus- 
 pended, and the prison doors were thrown open, 
 and prisoners released, except in particular cases.* 
 The communion was twice administered on the 
 Thursday ; and, on Good Friday, the absolution of 
 penitents appears to have taken place. At all 
 other seasons, Saturday, as well as Sunday, was es- 
 teemed a festival; but the Saturday following the 
 day of the crucifixion was observed by a strict fast, 
 which was continued till day-break on Sunday, the 
 supposed time of our Lord's resurrection. The 
 night was passed in a solemn vigil, in which the 
 assembled faithful prayed, read the Scriptures, 
 sang psalms, preached, and baptized the Catechu- 
 mens. 
 
 1 Chrys. Horn. xxx. in Gen. 2 Id. Ibid, 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XVli 
 
 From these holy exercises great benefits fol- 
 lowed, in the early periods of the church. The 
 seriousness and severity with which they were 
 enforced made a deep impression upon men's 
 minds, restraining them from readily falling into 
 sin, at least for a time ; they were the means of 
 renewing the intercourse of the soul with God, of 
 reanimating the faith of languishing believers, by 
 fixing their minds upon the great sacrifice for sin, 
 and of receiving fresh supplies of grace. Hence much 
 of the remarkable piety and strict holiness of the 
 primitive ages has been attributed, and with seem- 
 ing justice, to the effect of this annual solemnity. 
 What greatly tended, no doubt, to that happy re- 
 sult, was the choice of this period by the bishops 
 and pastors of the church, as the fittest to incul- 
 cate from the pulpit, not only those lessons which 
 related to the effectual observation of Lent, but the 
 general doctrines and duties of the Christian pro- 
 fession. This indeed was the season principally 
 appropriated to preaching : few sermoas were de- 
 livered at any other ; and therefore it is that we 
 meet with so large a proportion of Lent discourses* 
 in the works of Basil, Chrysostom, Ambrose, Au 
 gustine, and others of the Fathers. * 
 
 In the extravagant importance, however, which 
 came to be ascribed to the services of this season, — 
 in thus collecting into one brief period those de- 
 
 b 
 
XViU INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 vout exercises which were to nourish the souls of 
 believers, and secure the integrity of their morals, 
 throughout the year, — we may discover the seeds 
 of that superstitious reverence, which subsequently 
 reduced the sacred observances of the Lent Fast 
 to vain and even impious forms. The writings 
 of the Fathers abound in magnificent and over- 
 strained eulogies, in which an efficacy is ascribed 
 to the devotions of this season far superior to every 
 other. 
 
 The tendency of such exaggerations, in their 
 effect upon the minds of the ignorant, though un- 
 suspected by their pious authors, is to us suf- 
 ficiently obvious. No wonder, therefore, if, . when 
 the whole of religion degenerated into formal 
 ceremony, the period of Lent was distinguished 
 above every other by those ' bodily exercises which 
 profit nothing,' and by formalities which affect 
 the senses while they stupify the judgment and 
 corrupt the heart. So long as the mere exter- 
 nal form was found to be sufficient to maintain 
 the minds of the people in imbruted subjection, 
 their teachers cared not that the essential principle, 
 which alone imparted to them their value, had 
 fled. Thus It was, as regarded the useful but 
 abused discipline of fasting : the end of the ordi- 
 nance was defeated, by shifting the essential point 
 of it, from entire abstinence or extreme tempe- 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XIX 
 
 ranee, to a mere change in the material of the in- 
 dulgence. Flesh was indeed rigorously avoided, 
 but pains were at the same time taken to furnish, 
 from other viands, delicacies yet more flattering to 
 the appetite — the exact abuse denounced by our 
 Lord, among the pharisees, whose fastings were 
 for hypocritical display, to win praise from those 
 who looked but to the letter of the ordinance. 1 
 Again penance, which, though occasionally objec- 
 tionable, on the ground of extreme the rigour with 
 which it was imposed by the primitive discipli- 
 narians, was of powerful aid in preserving the 
 purity of the church, degenerated at last into a 
 merely formal confession of all persons, whether 
 in the condition of penitents or not; from whom 
 the only sign of repentance required, was that 
 they should comply with the empty ceremony 
 of having their heads sprinkled with ashes. It 
 is from this custom that the name of Ash-Wed- 
 nesday is derived. 8 Many puerile customs dis- 
 tinguished the several divisions of Lent, calcu- 
 lated only to amuse the vulgar, and divert the at- 
 
 1 Mattvi. 
 * The ashes used on this occasion, were obtained from the 
 palms, blessed on the Palm Sunday of the preceding year.. The 
 annual ceremony of placing ashes on the heads of the pope, cardi- 
 nals, prelates, &c. at Rome, is still one of the most solemn cere- 
 monies in the Papal church. 
 
 b2 
 
XX INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 tention of the worshippers from the proper so- 
 lemnities of the time ; and we may doubt which, 
 in our own days, are more injurious to the minds 
 of the people, whether the folly and levity of the 
 Popish carnival, or the pompous exhibitions and 
 profane shows which diversify the succeeding pe- 
 riod of mortification. 
 
 Together with the other corrupt and supersti- 
 tious observances that had found their way into 
 the church of Rome, our reformers discarded all 
 those which deformed this holy season. They re- 
 stored the use of fasting, according to the cus- 
 tom of the earliest ages ; l but probably feeling 
 that, after such an interval of laxity, the people 
 were no longer in a condition to bear the reimpo- 
 sing of so severe a yoke, the ancient discipline of 
 penance was omitted. Not, however, to leave the 
 Lent of the reformed church unmarked by any 
 observance proper to recall sinners to a due sense 
 of their fearful condition, and to deter others, 
 
 1 The stated times for abstinence, besides the great annual fast 
 of Lent, are — the three Rogation days, (from rogationes, supplica- 
 tions,) or those which immediately precede our Lord's ascension ; 
 the Ember days, (a word of doubtful origin, but probably refer- 
 ring to the custom of sitting upon ashes, or sprinkling the head 
 with them, as an act of humiliation and penance,) viz. the 
 Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, in the weeks after the first 
 Sunday in Lent, after Whit-Sunday, after September 14th, anc' 
 December 13th ; to which are added all the Fridays in the yea*, 
 in memory of the crucifixion. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXI 
 
 they substituted the service for Ash-Wednesday, 
 entitled a " Commination, or denouncing of God's 
 anger against sin." 1 It would appear, however, that 
 this insufficient substitute for penitentiary disci- 
 pline was only to be used, " until," in the words of 
 the compilers, * the said discipline may be restored 
 again, which is much to be wished :" — " to be 
 wished, rather than expected, in these licentious 
 times," subjoins the commentator on our book of 
 Common Prayer ; * and, alas ! the period that has 
 since elapsed, without lessening the necessity, has 
 greatly diminished the probability, of this desi- 
 rable restoration ! 
 
 The neglect, and, in too many cases, the con- 
 tempt, into which the solemn observance of 
 Lent has fallen, is one of the multitude of in- 
 stances in which extremes beget extremes. When 
 the early writers lavished their panegyrics upon 
 this "divine medicine of the soul," and repre- 
 sented that by the penitence of the quadragesimal 
 period the sins of all the rest of the year were to 
 be removed, they were preparing the way for those 
 superstitious abuses which, in their turn, produced 
 
 1 As this service, the propriety of which has been often con- 
 troverted, still continues to give offence to not a few well-mean- 
 ing persons, room has been spared in the present volume for a 
 Sermon, (Sermon II.) in which the reader will find the whole 
 question satisfactorily discussed.] 
 
 * Wheatly. 
 
XX11 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 our present worse than indifference. When, for exam- 
 ple, the primitive discipline of fasting was degraded 
 into a mere mockery of abstinence from some parti- 
 cular kinds of meats, while, at the same time, the 
 whole design and principle of the ordinance were 
 abandoned, we cannot wonder that plain, well- 
 meaning Christians began to look upon it alto- 
 gether as a vain superstition. To regard it in this 
 light appeared, to too many, a mark of the sincerity 
 of their Protestantism ; and when hostility to a rival 
 church was leagued with man's natural repugnance 
 to mortification and self-denial, the result was what 
 might have been anticipated. Yet we may plead, 
 in favour of this ordinance, both an obvious use- 
 fulness, and a sanction, if not a command, from 
 the highest authority. Why, if fasting were that 
 indifferent, or even ridiculous ceremonial, which 
 it is the fashion to consider it, did our Lord 
 himself give directions about the manner of its 
 observance ? and how came he to rank it with 
 prayer and almsgiving, two of the most indispen- 
 sable duties of the Christian ; directing us at the 
 same time, and in equivalent terms, to pray, to fast, 
 and to give alms ? ' The utility of abstinence, as a 
 means of subduing our earthly to our spiritual 
 being, is strongly urged by the apostle of the 
 Gentiles, from his own example; who certainly 
 
 1 Matt. vi. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XX111 
 
 might better have dispensed with such a restraint 
 than many of those who hold it in irreverent dis- 
 regard : ' I keep my body under/ says he, ' and 
 bring it into subjection.' So important an instru- 
 ment and means of piety has it in all ages been 
 deemed, until our own or very recent times, that 
 no Christian church has existed, in which fasts, es- 
 pecially at this season, have not been imposed and 
 strictly practised. We must not flatter ourselves 
 that our modern scorn of this discipline is to be 
 ascribed to the essential power of religion in the 
 mind rendering its aid needless ; but rather to the 
 general impatience of authority, to the conceit of 
 partial knowledge, and to that indifference to the 
 object proposed, which of course extends itself to 
 the means of its attainment. In our advanced 
 stage of civilization, amid the ever-enlarging circle 
 of objects which engage the attention and stimulate 
 the passions of mankind, the heart continually be- 
 comes more and more liable to be drawn away 
 from the pursuits and hopes of religion. Those 
 periodical observances and positive forms, there- 
 fore, which have a tendency to confine the affec- 
 tions, and fix and arrest the distracted thoughts, 
 ought to be cherished and enforced with propor- 
 tionate care and assiduity. 
 
 The advantages of this institution, then, are evi- 
 dent. As certainly as the revolving year comes 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 round, it arrests the attention of the worldling, 
 buried in the multitude of his temporal pursuits, 
 and recalls the sinner from his evil way. As 
 often as the first day of the solemn period of 
 Lent arrives, a voice resounds through our Chris- 
 tian community, which proclaims the heinousness 
 of transgression, the terrors of divine justice, the 
 inevitableness of impending judgment upon unre- 
 pented transgression. Thus brought to a sense of 
 our condition and prospects, as having ' all 
 offended,' we are invited to seek retirement for 
 a season from the cares and seductions of life, — to 
 examine our past course — to ascertain the state of 
 our hearts and minds — to call ourselves to account, 
 and take that naked and impartial view of what we 
 are, which is taken by the Almighty himself. This, if 
 performed with tolerable fairness and sincerity, will 
 not fail to lay open to our consciences so many evi- 
 dences of frailty, such marks of guilt, as must 
 force us to sorrow and confession. We shall come 
 to the footstool of the Divine mercy, acknowledging 
 our utter unworthiness ; and, with repentant tears 
 and resolutions of amendment, implore— not only 
 pardon for the past, but strength to stand fast for 
 the time to come. We shall willingly afflict our- 
 selves, shall mourn in the dust and ashes of un- 
 feigned humility, and shall heartily acknowledge, 
 while under these salutary convictions, that what- 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXV 
 
 soever purifying trials our God may bring upon 
 us, they must needs be less than we have deserved, 
 and but a gracious and healthful discipline, calcu- 
 lated for our real good. 
 
 Looking forward now to the awful solemnities 
 which are collected together towards the close of 
 the season, we endeavour to animate our faith and 
 confirm our feeble resolutions, by directing oar view 
 to him, ' who has left us an example, that the same 
 mind should be in us which was also in him.' 
 Our Saviour passing triumphantly through un- 
 equalled temptation, and submitting to unpa- 
 ralleled sorrow, presents a spectacle at once melt- 
 ing and ennobling. We learn of him to say, in all 
 our afflictions, ' Father, not my will, but thine be 
 done !' ' Then is felt the efficacy of prayer — its 
 softening, sanctifying, strengthening efficacy. We 
 supplicate the Holy Spirit to be with us in our 
 afflictions, — to remove from us the cup of intoler- 
 able misery, and to lighten such as may and must 
 be borne, by sanctifying it and blessing it to us. 
 But the period advances; and now the penitent is 
 prepared to look with purer eyes and a deeper in- 
 terest upon his suffering Lord ; and now the gather- 
 ing darkness which frowns and lowers over the 
 mountain of the cross, rivets his attention, and 
 fixes his whole soul upon that most touching spec- 
 tacle, the death of the Redeemer, who ' was deli- 
 vered for us,' that we by him and through him 
 
XXVI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 'might possess all things/ Behold, now, the won- 
 drous close ! — the deepest mystery of triumphant 
 love — God agonized for man ! Yet, restrain we a vain 
 and misplaced compassion. Let us not presume to 
 weep for him but ' for ourselves and our children' — 
 for our fallen race, the guilty cause of all that we here 
 contemplate. With these profound but chastened 
 impressions, we may now draw nigher, and look 
 more narrowly on that divine victim for sin, ' whose 
 visage was marred more than any man's, and his 
 form more than the sons of men.' ' We may wit- 
 ness the intensity of his sufferings, and take thence 
 the estimate of his measureless mercy — of our un- 
 fathomable guilt — of our unutterable danger ! Yet 
 is this sight of woe, a sight, at the same time, ot 
 gladness. How do we rejoice in it, amidst our tears ! 
 Beginning to look forward, again, from the grave 
 in which we see him deposited, to his approaching 
 resurrection, we now remember, that if we would 
 be ' quickened with him' we must likewise die 
 with him — die to sin — die to self — die to the 
 world — die to all things that were, and are, his foes. 
 Withdrawn again by no unhallowed curiosity, from 
 these contemplations on our own immediate in- 
 terest in the atonement, we follow in imagination 
 the crucified Saviour, who for a time has laid aside 
 the burdensome veil of flesh, which he had as- 
 
 « Isaiah, lii. 14. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXVU 
 
 sumed. Our pious thoughts accompany him into 
 the mysterious abodes of departed souls, where 
 he sojourns for a time among 'the spirits in 
 prison,' worjking even in that lower world of bodi- 
 less intelligences the ' work which his Father gave 
 him to accomplish ;' prepared, however, soon to 
 resume for a space his sojourn here on earth, by a 
 resurrection, in which he S leads captivity captive/ 
 and vanquishes death — ' the last enemy that shall 
 be destroyed.' 
 
 The course of devout exercises thus slightly 
 sketched, it is the design of the present volume to 
 assist. It would have been easy to make the selec- 
 tion consist more exclusively of what are usually 
 called Lent Sermons ; but the opinion of the Editor 
 was, that the series would be more likely to prove 
 interesting and profitable to the reader, by taking 
 in a wider range both of authors and subjects. 
 
 Should it be alleged, as an objection to the 
 volume, that the discourses it comprises are brought 
 together from writers of diverse tenets and opinions 
 on important points, the answer is, first, that it 
 was intended to comprise an epitome of all that 
 our best sermon- writers have left, upon " subjects 
 proper for Christian consideration during the season 
 of Lent ;" secondly, that the Editor has endeavoured, 
 notwithstanding, to avert the force of the objec- 
 tion, by taking care not to select from the several 
 
XXV111 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 authors — especially from such as may be of sus- 
 pected orthodoxy — any of those productions, in 
 which their objectionable bias is apparent. The 
 book presents, therefore, great and characteristic 
 variety, in every way, without, it is hoped, an offen- 
 sive absence of harmony in style and manner, or 
 considerable contrariety of statement. 
 
 The Editor, in conclusion, will be much misun- 
 derstood, if any of the preceding remarks lead the 
 reader to suppose his desire is to see the revival of 
 a system of morals that could be justly condemned 
 as ascetic. Such would assuredly not be his aim, 
 were he gifted with the power of persuasion ne- 
 cessary to secure it. Yet, for the season to which 
 this volume relates, he thinks it not too much to 
 wish, as an ancient writer has well expressed 
 it, that we could live a life of retirement, even 
 in the midst of society — habentes conversationem 
 in urbibus, possideamus mente desertum. 1 He cer- 
 tainly does not think the Christian world too wise, 
 or too good, to be made yet wiser and better by a 
 revival, to a reasonable extent, of the ancient dis- 
 cipline of abstinence : but let it be undertaken in 
 the temper recommended by another of those esti- 
 mable though neglected teachers. * Let us," says 
 St. Basil, " by no means receive the days that 
 are approaching with sadness of heart, but with 
 
 ' St. Ambrose. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXIX 
 
 cheerfulness as becometh saints. Be not sad 
 
 when thou art cured. It would be very foolish if 
 we should grieve for the abstraction of our cus- 
 tomary food, and not rather rejoice for the health 
 
 of our souls. Rejoice, then, that there is given 
 
 to thee an efficacious remedy for sin." 
 
 R. C. 
 
 Feb. 25, 1835. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON I.— Page 1. 
 For Ash-Wednesday .... Secker, 
 
 SERMON II.— Page 21. 
 On publicly denouncing Curses upon Sinners . Clarke. 
 
 SERMON III.— Page 39. 
 On Religious Retirement . • Atierbury. 
 
 SERMON IV.— Page 59. 
 
 On Mortification . • • . . • Hall. 
 
 SERMON V.- Page 81. 
 On Confession, and Sorrow for Sin . • Tillotson. 
 
 SERMON VI.— Page 103. 
 On Repentance .... Taylor. 
 
 SERMON VII.— Page 127. 
 On Self-denial ..... Wesley. 
 
XXXii CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON VIII.— Page 145. 
 
 God's End and Design in Affliction • . Leighton. 
 
 SERMON IX.— Page 165. 
 On Submission to the Divine Will . . Barrow. 
 
 SERMON X.— Page 187. 
 The Atonement a Pledge of every other Blessing. Farindon. 
 
 SERMON XI.— Page 227. 
 On the Crucifixion ..... South. 
 
 SERMON XII.— Page 255. 
 Our Lord's Obedience unto Death . . Beveridge. 
 
 SERMON XIII.— Page 283. 
 The Believer crucified with Christ . . . Watts. 
 
 SERMON XIV.— Page 303. 
 Our Lord's Descent into Hell . . . Horsley. 
 
 SERMON XV.— Page 329. 
 The Last Enemy . . , . . Donne. 
 
SERMON I. 
 
 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 
 
 [Thomas Secker was born in the year 1693. He was made Bishop of Bristol 
 In 1735, was translated to Oxford 1737, raised to the See of Canterbury in 1758« 
 anddiedinl768J 
 

 SERMON I 
 
 Gal. v. 24 
 
 And they, that are Christ's, have crucified the flesh, 
 with the affections and lusts 
 
 This expression/ crucifying the flesh/ may probably 
 seem to most, when they first hear it, or attend to 
 i#, a very strange one ; as, no doubt, numbers of 
 others in Scripture do. But a little consideration 
 will show, that there is no cause to censure them, 
 or be offended at them. For amidst the multipli- 
 city of languages that are in the world and the 
 various nations, tempers, and circumstances of the 
 people who are bred up to use them, it is unavoid- 
 able, but there will be in each many ways of speak- 
 ing, which though easy and familiar by custom to 
 one part of mankind, must yet, to the rest, appear 
 harsh and unaccountable. This is the case even of 
 neighbouring countries in our own times': much 
 more then must it be expected in those tongues, of 
 which the vulgar use hath long since failed, and 
 which formerly expressed the sentiments of distant 
 nations, inspired both by the age and climate they 
 lived in, with a different turn of thought and style. 
 
4 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 Hence proceeds the surprising warmth and bold- 
 ness of figure, the abrupt transitions, the sudden 
 lofty flights of the eastern writers and speakers, 
 utterly contrary to the cool and regular genius ot 
 the European languages. And amongst the for- 
 mer, the compositions of the Jews must of course 
 have a peculiar tincture and propriety of their 
 own : not only because they were prohibited, for 
 good reasons, all needless commerce with other 
 lands; but chiefly because divine Revelation de- 
 livered to them such doctrines and precepts, and 
 consequently such terms, as the heathen had not; 
 which must likewise greatly increase in number by 
 frequent references to their own articles of faith, 
 observances, and sabred books. When Christianity 
 was published to the world, here was again a new 
 set of discoveries and ideas, added to the preced- 
 ing ; which being first communicated in Hebrew, 
 were thence transfused into Greek, by the apostles 
 addressing themselves to the Gentiles. Thus was 
 the style of the New Testament produced : which 
 being as literally translated, and closely imitated, 
 as it well could, (for the nature of the thing re- 
 quired strictness,) the same forms of speech have 
 been derived down into the modern tongues of 
 Christian countries. And so it hath come to pass 
 by a kind of necessity, that, in discourses on reli- 
 gion, words, meanings, constructions, images, oc- 
 cur, extremely remote from the common idiom of 
 the language on other occasions. And these, weak 
 persons are apt to mistake, artful disputants to 
 pervert, and unlearned or unfair aftecters of wit 
 and free thought to ridicule; though originally they 
 were of plain signification, and are still, when un- 
 derstood, full of good sense and beauty. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 5 
 
 Thus 'crucifying,' or as the apostle elsewhere puts 
 it, ' mortifying 1 the flesh/ is a phrase far out of the 
 road of our daily conversation, and of our reading 
 on subjects of business and entertainment : from 
 whence it easily happens that the superstitious mis- 
 apprehend, and the profane despise it; though 
 indeed it denotes a reasonable, a necessary duty, 
 and describes that duty, not only in a strong, but 
 elegant manner. To show these things clearly, I 
 shall, 
 
 I. Explain to you the rise and general intention 
 of this way of speaking : 
 
 II. Specify more distinctly the nature of the duty 
 designed to be taught by it : 
 
 III. Show you how strictly our belonging to 
 Christ obliges us to practise that doctrine. 
 
 I. I shall explain to you the rise and general 
 intention of this way of speaking in Scripture. 
 
 Now the words, flesh and spirit, though employ- 
 ed by the writers of the New Testament in different 
 senses, according to the subject of which they treat, 
 are yet commonly expressions of the moral state 
 and character of man ; the dispositions of his heart 
 towards piety or sin. Spirit is the principle of 
 reason and religion ; flesh, of appetite and passion. 
 Every one feels in himself both right and wrong 
 inclinations. The former our conscience approves. 
 And therefore pursuing them would on that ac- 
 count alone be properly called, ' walking after the 
 Spirit,' 2 that ' inward man, which naturally delight- 
 eth in the law of God.' 3 But a much stronger 
 ground for it is, that the Divine Spirit hath not 
 
 Col. iii. 5. * Rom. viii. 4. 
 
 3 Rom. vn. 22 
 
6 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 only revealed to us the whole rule of life, and the 
 most powerful motives to observe it, but is con- 
 tinually present to our minds, exciting and strength- 
 ening us, if we permit him, to every good work. 
 On the other hand, ' all flesh having corrupted his 
 way before God/ 1 sinners may be justly said to 
 ' walk after the flesh/ because they live conform- 
 ably to the wicked customs of the world. But the 
 true foundation of the phrase is, that this ' corrup- 
 tible body' 8 subjects the fallen children of Adam 
 perpetually by its irregular propensities, to a va- 
 riety of temptations, hard to be overcome. And 
 therefore even heathen authors have represented it 
 as the principal source of moral evil : no wonder 
 then, that those of Scripture do, on fuller know- 
 ledge of the case. 
 
 But in St. Paul more especially the flesh means our 
 vicious tendencies ; not only those to sensual indul- 
 gence, but the whole system of them. Thus in the 
 thirteenth verse of this chapter, ' Brethren, ye have 
 been called unto liberty ; only use not your liberty 
 for an occasion to the ^esh :' that is, to any blam- 
 able purpose. But the particular blamable use, 
 which he had in view, was that of uncharitable 
 contention. For it follows immediately, 'But if ye 
 bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be 
 not consumed one of another.' Again : having 
 said, that ' the works of the flesh are manifest,' 3 he 
 proceeds to reckon amongst them, not only ' adul- 
 tery and lasciviousness,' but ' variance, envy, strife, 
 sedition.' And the ' fruits of the Spirit,' opposed 
 to these, are not only * temperance,' but • long-suf- 
 
 Gen. vi. 11,12. * Wisd. ix. 15. 
 
 3 Ver. 19. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 7 
 
 fering, peace, goodness, faith/ or fidelity, ' meek- 
 ness/ 
 
 Further: because there is a connexion and sym- 
 pathy between the various dispositions of the same 
 kind, whether moral or immoral, each adding vi- 
 gour and strength to the other ; the several vices 
 to which mankind are prone, are described in God's 
 word as uniting into and forming a living body, 
 hence denominated ' the body of sin/ or of ' the 
 lusts cf the flesh / s of which every criminal incli- 
 nation is a member. Thus, when the apostle had 
 enjoined Christians to ' mortify their members, 
 which are upon the earth,' • he instantly explains 
 himself to mean the parts of this figurative body of 
 sin, which he goes on to enumerate : ' covetous- 
 ness, anger, fornication, uncleanness, malice, blas- 
 phemy.' 
 
 And, in consequence of this, because not only 
 the nature of all men is tainted originally, but 
 the conduct of most men hath, in some respects at 
 least, been habitually unjustifiable; therefore the 
 sins which they have indulged, considered in the 
 manner above-mentioned, as united into one organ- 
 ized body, are also styled in Scripture, ' the old 
 man ;' in opposition to that ' new man,' or blessed 
 change of temper and behaviour, which the gospel 
 was designed to produce. And however singular 
 the former of these phrases may appear, the latter, 
 which in itself is equally so, that of becoming a 
 new man, is both frequent in our common speech, 
 and warranted by the politest of classical authors. 
 
 This expression therefore having taken place, the 
 
 Ver. 22. 2 Col. ii. 1! 
 
 3 Col. iii. 5. 
 
8 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 amendment of our hearts and actions is sometimes 
 denoted by laying aside or putting off this old 
 man. Thus, ' that ye put off, concerning the 
 former conversation, the old man, which is corrupt 
 according to the deceitful lusts; and put on the 
 new man, which is created according to God/ that 
 is, according to the image of God, * in righteousness 
 and true holiness.' ' And because our gracious Re- 
 deemer was a perfect example of these, putting on 
 the new man is elsewhere called, ' putting on the 
 Lord Jesus Christ :'* a mode of speech fully vindi- 
 cated by the ancient usage of the Greek tongue, in 
 which the New Testament was written. For in 
 that, putting on any person signified, forming 
 one's self by his character, and imitating his man- 
 ner. 
 
 At other times, this entire change of affections, 
 will, and demeanour, is expressed more strongly. 
 We are said to * be dead to sin, and raised up 
 again to walk in newness of life:' 3 which means, 
 to be separated for ever from bad habits and 
 customs, and enter into a different state and course 
 of thinking and acting ; in which ' the former 
 things are passed away, and all things are made 
 new.' 4 The promises indeed, of this renovation on 
 our part, and of grace to accomplish it, and future 
 happiness to reward it, on God's part, are first 
 made in baptism : which therefore the Scripture 5 
 calls our new birth to this new life. But then, it 
 is only by continual care (if Providence allows us 
 time) to grow in grace, and become every day 
 more completely dead to all. transgression, and 
 
 1 Eph. iv. 22. 2 Rom. xiii. 14; Gal. iii. 27. 
 
 3 Rom. vi, 2, 4. * Rev. xxi. 4, 5. 
 
 5 John, iii. 3 — 7« 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 9 
 
 alive to all duty, that we shall arrive at the matu- 
 rity requisite for our acceptance. 
 
 Further yet: when the' word of God intends to 
 give us the most awakening sense, how entire our 
 change must be, and with how unremitted a reso- 
 lution we must arm ourselves against every bad 
 inclination ; then the expression chosen is, not that 
 of dying to sin, but of mortifying, killing it. For 
 the original signification of the words, translated 
 ' mortify,' is not the now common one, of keeping 
 under, and treating with some austerity, but of de- 
 stroying, putting to death : as where the apostle 
 saith, 'If through the Spirit ye do mortify the 
 deeds of the body/ unlawful indulgences, ' ye shall 
 live;' 1 and in the passage already cited, 'mortify 
 therefore your members, which are upon the earth.' 
 In pursuance of which mortal enmity between re- 
 ligion and wickedness, every serious believer con- 
 siders himself as a 'soldier of Christ,' 2 whose 
 whole life is to be a warfare against those ' lusts 
 which war against the soul.' 3 
 
 And lastly, because the great end of our Savi- 
 our's incarnation and death was to engage us in 
 this good fight, and enable us to obtain the victory; 
 therefore overcoming and sacrificing to him our 
 unlawful desires, is, by an elegant allusion to the 
 manner of his death, (which was painful and slow, 
 like our extirpation of them,) called ' crucifying* 
 them ; not only here in the text, but in another pa- 
 rallel one ; * Knowing this, that our old man is 
 crucified with him, that the body of sin might be 
 destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve 
 
 1 Rom. viii. 13. ? 2 Tim. ii. 3, 4. 
 
 3 1 Pet. ii. 11. 
 
10 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 sin.' ! Whence also our apostle saith further, that 
 'by the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.' by the 
 example of his sufferings, and the grace which 
 they have procured, ' the world is crucified unto 
 him, and he unto the world.' * He regards it no 
 more, than the Jews did our Saviour, when they 
 condemned him to the most ignominious torments, 
 but hates it mortally, and despises it utterly, so far 
 as it is sinful ; and is content, that, in return, it 
 should hate and despise him, rather than comply 
 with its wicked customs. 
 
 This then is true Christian mortification. And 
 the figures, describing it, are indeed remarkably 
 bold and full of energy ; but they are accurate, in- 
 structive, animating ; and, alas ! but too necessary, 
 to convince unthinking and unwilling creatures, as 
 we are, (prone to explain away into nothing every 
 precept we can,) of the zeal and severity With which 
 we are to extirpate all that is faulty within our 
 souls. The commands of our blessed Lord himself 
 carry in them the same force: 'if our right hand 
 offends us, to cut it off; if our right eye, to pluck 
 it out :' 3 if any desire we feel, will be a probable 
 occasion of our falling, to suppress it, however 
 dear ; if any action we are engaged in, to quit it, 
 however advantageous in other respects. And the 
 reason he adds, admits of no reply : * It is better 
 for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two 
 hands or two eyes, to be cast into hell fire :' it is 
 better to undergo the most painful self-denial here, 
 and be recompensed with heavenly felicity here- 
 after, than to enjoy the ' pleasures of sin for a sea- 
 
 1 Rom. vi. 6. •* Gal. vi. 1 4. 
 
 3 Matt. v. 29, 30; xviii. 8, 9 ; Mark, ix. 43, 45, 47- 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 11 
 
 son, ' ana suffer the vengeance of the Almighty 
 for ever. 
 
 Having now explained the rise and general in- 
 tention of the principal phrases of this sort in Scrip- 
 ture, I proceed 
 
 II. To specify more distinctly the nature of the 
 duty designed to he taught by them. 
 
 And here you cannot fail to perceive at first 
 sight, that harsh treatment of our bodily frame, only 
 for the sake of treating it harshly, is no part of Chris- 
 tian mortification, or Christian duty. It is indeed a 
 practice contrary to reason, and no less to Scrip- 
 ture. For St. Paul saith, 'no man/ that is, no 
 wise man, 'ever hated his own flesh.' s Yet the 
 opinion, that such things are in themselves accept- 
 able to God, hath not only been common in false 
 religions, but has crept into the true : and both fur- 
 nished unbelievers with an objection against it, 
 and misled believers very unhappily. For they, 
 who fancy, that exercising rigour on their persons 
 hath any good in it, separate from the good uses to 
 which it may contribute, are some of them led to 
 fancy also, that the further they carry it the better; 
 till they hurt, perhaps ruin, their healths, disorder 
 their understandings, or however sour their tempers: 
 while others conceive, that there is very great merit 
 in a very little suffering; and consequently per- 
 suade themselves, that God will readily excuse the 
 smaller faults of a behaviour not quite so moral as 
 it should be, on their punctual performance of 
 their higher duties, as they esteem them ; though, 
 in truth, not only imaginary, but often of little 
 more than imaginary hardship. And thus, whereas 
 
 1 Heb. xi 25. . 8 Eph. v. 29. 
 
12 FOR AMi-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 common sinners are open to remorse of conscience, 
 which there is hope may, sooner or later, through 
 the grace of God, amend them ; these, on the con- 
 trary, proceed self-applauded, and fully persuaded 
 of their title to a distinguished share of divine 
 favour. On which account our Saviour tells the 
 Pharisees, men of austerity in some respects, and 
 wondrous exactness in little matters, that 'the 
 publicans and the harlots shall go into the kingdom 
 of heaven before them.' l 
 
 Not that Christians, of more abstemious lives 
 than ordinary, are therefore to be condemned as 
 Pharisees and hypocrites ; or derided as weak and 
 superstitious. Every one is bound to employ such 
 means for his preservation from sin, and advance- 
 ment in piety and virtue, as either God's word 
 hath prescribed, or his own reason and experience 
 recommend. Now some may find rules to be use- 
 ful or necessary, which to others would be neither. 
 Some again may rashly censure what they would 
 
 I do much better to imitate. And all persons, but 
 especially all who live in ease and plenty, should 
 be attentive to ' keep their bodies in subjection :' * 
 not harassing them as enemies, but ruling and 
 providing for them as servants, in such manner as 
 to make them both willing to obey, and able to 
 perform their work. They should watch over their 
 natural fondness for pleasure, and tendency. to fol- 
 low the customs" of "the world ; not with unreason- 
 able scrupulousness, but with religious prudence : 
 learn to suspect their favourite inclinations, and the 
 opinions that countenance them: check .themselves 
 in proportion as they grow eager, stop and look 
 
 1 Matt. xxi. 3. 9 1 Cor. ix. 27 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 13 
 
 round them with care : never adventure to the ex- 
 tremity of what is lawful, but in all dubious cases 
 lean to the undoubtedly safer side : be moderate 
 in the most allowable gratifications of this world, 
 and delight principally in cultivating and improv- 
 ing those pious and virtuous affections, which 
 alone can ' make them meet to be partakers of the 
 inheritance of the saints in light ;' l of a happiness 
 entirely spiritual, and abstracted from flesh and 
 blood. 
 
 But then, while we observe this caution in re- 
 gard to worldly objects, we must be careful also, on 
 the other hand, that we carry it not to danger- 
 ous or extravagant lengths ; that we seem not un- 
 thankful to, or suspicious of him, ' who hath given 
 us richly all things to enjoy;' 2 that we disguise 
 not religion by putting it in a melancholy and for- 
 bidding dress ; that we be not betrayed by the re- 
 straints, under which we lay ourselves, either into 
 vain self-opinion and spiritual pride, or a rigidness 
 of temper, very unsuitable to the gentle spirit of 
 the Christian profession ; but particularly, that we 
 forbear to condemn, or even despise, our brethren 
 of more seeming latitude ; who, it may be, under 
 the appearance of a freer life, (which was our Sa- 
 viour's own case, for he ' came eating and drink- 
 ing' 3 ) preserve really and inwardly a stricter guard 
 over their thoughts, words, and actions, than we do. 
 And in general, all persons ought to take heed, 
 that while they are watching against the approach 
 of one sort of sins, those of another do not find a 
 ready admission. We are willing enough to keep 
 
 1 Col. i. 12. 2 1 Tim.vi. 17. 
 
 3 Matt. xi. 19 ; Luke, vii. 34. 
 
14 FOR ASH-WKDNKSDAV. 
 
 at ever so great a distance from the faults to which 
 we have little or no inclination, and often affect to 
 make our zeal in that respect remarkable; but then 
 perhaps more favourite vices have easy entrance 
 into our breasts, and take firm possession of them. 
 We are shocked, for instance, and with much 
 cause, at the monstrous and ruinous eagerness for 
 pleasure, the profligate and unprecedented con- 
 tempt of religion, that prevails in the world; our 
 behaviour, on these heads, is unblamable, exem- 
 plary; and we value ourselves upon it beyond 
 bounds. Yet possibly, all the while, we indulge 
 ourselves to the full another way : are unjust and 
 fraudulent, or selfish and unreasonable, or penuri- 
 ous and hard-hearted, or censorious and unforgiv- 
 ing, or peevish and ill-tempered ; make every one 
 about us uneasy, and those chiefly, whose happi- 
 ness ought to be our first care. This is applaud- 
 ing ourselves for being fortified, where the enemy 
 is not likely to make an attack ; and leaving the 
 places that are most exposed, quite undefended. 
 Every one therefore ought to study the weak parts 
 of his own heart and conduct, and spend the main 
 of his attention upon these : that so, not only a 
 wrong inclination or two may be rooted up, (which 
 if left to themselves would scarce grow,) or may be 
 sacrificed in favour of others as bad ; but the whole 
 ' body of sin' be destroyed ; the ' flesh/ the prin- 
 ciple of evil, ' with/ all * its affections and lusts,' 
 nailed to the cross of Christ. 
 
 And this duty of mortification is no more con- 
 fined to one season than to one sin. The practice 
 of it either must be constant, or will be fruitless. 
 The time of Lent indeed hath been more especially 
 appropriated to it : not that we should think the 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 15 
 
 show, or the reality, of a little more exactness than 
 ordinary, for a few weeks, (productive perhaps only 
 of ill humour,) so meritorious; that when we have 
 once got it over, we may live almost as we please, 
 till the unwelcome days return, when we are to 
 atone afresh for our past offences, and so make 
 way for the commission of future ones. For, as 
 the son of Sirach observes, * He that washeth him- 
 self after the touching of a dead body, if he touch 
 it again, what availeth his washing ? So is it with 
 a man that fasteth for his sins, and goeth again 
 and doth the same. Who will hear his prayer, or 
 what doth his humbling profit him ' Our great 
 concern is to mortify all irregular desires with such 
 incessant care, that there maybe as little need, as lit- 
 tle room as possible, to distinguish one season from 
 another in that respect. But because we are 
 strangely apt to postpone a work, generally dis- 
 agreeable in proportion as it is necessary ; our 
 church hath wisely directed, that the negligent 
 (and we all are such in some measure) should now 
 be more solemnly called to consider their ways, 
 afflict their souls for their transgressions, and re- 
 new the intermitted discipline which is requisite to 
 make their hearts better. This is our true business 
 at present. Methods of keeping Lent, which end 
 with it, and leave behind them no durable effect, 
 cannot be of much use ; and may be fatal, by de- 
 ceiving us into a false security, and forgetfulness 
 of what I proposed to show you, 
 
 III. That our Christian profession strongly binds 
 us to mortify continually every immoral appetite 
 
 1 Ecclus. xx-viv 2 . 0. 
 
16 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 and passion. ' They, that are Christ's, have cru- 
 cified the flesh, with the affections and lusts.' 
 
 Instead of this, the apostle might have said, (like 
 the philosophers of his own and preceding times,) 
 they who are truly rational beings, who see the 
 beauty of virtue, and deformity of vice, who feel 
 the pleasures and the pains of the moral sense, who 
 form just nations of the real good and evil of man, 
 who are ambitious of imitating their Creator and 
 acquiring his favour in their present state of exist- 
 ence and perhaps a future one : but in saying, 
 ' they who are Christ's,' he hath said all this, and 
 much more. Christianity comprehends every con- 
 sideration of nature and reason in the fullest man- 
 ner; and as they are all insufficient, some too 
 speculative and unaffecting, some too disputable 
 and uncertain ; adds others of inestimable value, 
 peculiar to itself. A heathen may want almost en- 
 tirely, and must want in a great degree, both the 
 means of learning what mankind is most deeply 
 interested in, and motives and power to practise 
 what he had learned : a Christian, allowed to read 
 and hear the word of God, cannot, without inex- 
 cusable negligence : and ' of them to whom much 
 is given, much will be required.' ' Through Christ, 
 who hath enlightened us, we ' know all things;' 2 
 ' through Christ which strengthened us, we can do 
 all things :' 3 through Christ, who died for us, what 
 we do shall be rewarded, though deserving nothing, 
 with eternal life. And thus hath * the grace of 
 God, which bringeth salvation,' not only * taught/ 
 
 1 Luke, xii. 48. 9 1 John, ii. 20. 
 
 1 Phil. iv. 13. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 17 
 
 but enabled us, ' denying ungodliness and worldly- 
 lusts, to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this 
 present world.' 1 They, who are Christ's in name 
 only, bind themselves to this: they, who are in 
 reality his, perform it. ' If any man have not the 
 Spirit of Christ, he is none of his :' 8 and ' the fruit 
 of the Spirit,' we are told immediately before the 
 text, and through the whole Scripture, are the 
 pious movements of a good heart, and the actions 
 of a good life. Our blessed Lord \ gave himself 
 for us, that he might sanctify and cleanse us, ancf 
 present us to himself holy and without blemish.' 3 
 If then we labour not to become such, we frustrate, 
 so far as our own concern reaches, his gracious 
 intentions, and make his sufferings vain. If we 
 crucify not our affections and lusts, ' we crucify 
 him afresh, and put him to open shame;' 4 pour 
 contempt on his glorious undertaking ourselves, 
 and expose it to the scorn of others : the conse- 
 quence of which will be, that, as ' while we profess 
 to know him, in works we deny him,' 5 so will he 
 in the day of judgment ' profess to us, I never 
 knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.' 6 
 Still it should be observed, that so far both good 
 and bad Christians are his, as to be always under 
 his dominion. ' None of us liveth to himself, and 
 no man dieth to himself,' exempted from his au- 
 thority : ' whether we live or die we are the 
 Lord's;' 7 but the wicked continue under his go- 
 vernment; just as upon earth, rebels continue sub- 
 jects ; not intitled to benefits from their Prince, but 
 
 1 Tit. ii. 11,12. * Rom. viii. 9. 
 
 3 Eph. x. 25, 26, 27. 4 Heb. vi. 6. 
 
 5 Tit.i. 16. 6 Matth. vii. 23. 
 
 Rom. xiv. 7, 8. 
 
"8 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 liable justly to sorer punishments than his other 
 enemies. Think then, will you be ' Christ's at his 
 coming,' ' only to have ' vengeance taken of you in 
 flaming fire,' 2 or, to * enter with him into his glory?' 3 
 If the latter be your choice, the only way to it is, 
 that you think it not too much to crucify your 
 flesh figuratively, renounce and destroy your for- 
 bidden desires, however painful it be, for him ; 
 since he thought it not too much to let his flesh 
 literally be crucified for you. And if you will 
 "make sure of doing this at all, you must do it im- 
 mediately. 
 
 Perhaps you will say, we hope it is done already : 
 for the text assures us, all believers have done it. 
 But observe: at that time almost all professed be- 
 lievers were real ones ; for they had no temptation 
 to make a false profession : and in general, specu- 
 lative believers were practical ones ; else they would 
 never have suffered what they did. But in our 
 times, the case is much altered. And in all times, 
 the true method of arguing is not, ' we are Christ's/ 
 and therefore we ' have crucified our affections and 
 lusts ; ' but, ' we have crucified our affections and 
 lusts,' and therefore * we are Christ's.' Our faith 
 must be proved from our works; not our works 
 from our faith. By ' their fruits ye shall know 
 them,' 4 is the rule : and by those we must know 
 our own state, as well as that of others. But sup- 
 posing we have cause to believe it good, have we 
 not greater cause to be sensible it is not perfect ? 
 And should we not be striving continually to make 
 it more so ? ' They that are Christ's,' the apostle 
 
 • 1 Cor. xv. 23. i 2 Thess. i. 8 
 
 3 Luke, xxiv. 26. 4 Matth. vii. 20. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP SECKER. 19 
 
 tells us, '. have crucified the flesh.' But he doth 
 not tell us, they have done it so effectually and so 
 completely, as they ought. On the contrary he 
 tells us, that he himself had not yet ' attained,' but 
 was still ' pressing on towards the mark.' l And 
 surely we should be doing it without ceasing. Un- 
 less we are careful to advance, we shall be dri- 
 ven back ; unless we pursue our enemy to destruc- 
 tion, though put to flight he will return; though 
 wounded as it were * to death, his deadly wound 
 will be healed :' 8 and gradually, if not suddenly, 
 his empire may become more absolute, and our 
 condition more deplorable, than ever. At least he 
 will be perpetually annoying us, disturbing our 
 peace, taking away our comfort, darkening our 
 prospects. Nor shall we be losers in this life 
 only, by neglect of going on to perfection ; but in 
 the next also, the less complete the victory is, the 
 smaller will be the reward : and they ' who have 
 sown sparingly, shall reap also sparingly/ 3 Let 
 us therefore sow plentifully the seeds of every 
 virtue ; and extirpate with such diligence every 
 ' root of bitterness/ that there may be the freest 
 room and the fullest nourishment for every grace 
 of the Christian life to flourish, and be fruitful. 
 ' Of ourselves/ indeed, ' we can do nothing/ 4 But 
 this is far from being a just plea for stopping 
 where we are, since ' God is able, to make all 
 grace abound towards us ; that we, having always 
 all sufficiency in all things, may abound in every 
 good work.' s Provided then we apply to him, by the 
 means he hath appointed, and engaged to bless, — ■ 
 
 1 Phil. iii. 12, 13, 14. 2 Rev. xiii. 3. 
 
 3 2 Cor. ix. 6. 4 John, xv. 5. 5 2 Cor. ix. 8. 
 
 c2 
 
20 FOR ASH-WEDNESDAY. 
 
 humble faith, earnest prayer, strict vigilance, and 
 constant use of his holy ordinances, — we shall not 
 fail to experience the truth of his promise : ' They 
 that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength : 
 they shall mount up with wings, as eagles ; they 
 shall run, and not be weary ; they shall walk, arid 
 not faint.' ' 
 
 Isaiah, xl. 31. 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 ON PUBLICLY DENOUNCING CURSES 
 UPON SINNERS. 
 
 BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D.D. 
 
 'Samuel Clarke, born at Norwich, in the year 1675, died Rector of 
 
 St. James's, Westminster, 1729.] 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 Deut. xxvii. 26. 
 
 Cursed be he that confirmeth not all the words of 
 this law to do them. And all the people shall 
 say, Amen. 
 
 The proper design and use of all public or private 
 seasons of humiliation is, to recollect and examine 
 carefully the state of our lives; to confess our past 
 sins, with a just sense of our own unworthiness in 
 committing them; humbly to ask pardon of God, for 
 the breaches of his law we have been guilty of; to 
 imprint upon our minds a deep sense of the rea- 
 sonableness and obligation of our duty ; to ac- 
 knowledge the justice and righteousness of God's 
 indignation, denounced against impenitent sinners ; 
 and to form within ourselves strong and solemn re- 
 solutions of better obedience for the future. To 
 this end it is, that the law of God is held forth unto 
 us, recommended with all the blessings, and fenced 
 in with all the curses, that are written in his book. 
 To this end it is, that the prophets in the Old 
 Testament, and the apostles in the New, represent 
 unto us in such sublime expressions, the happiness 
 of obedience ; and on the other hand, set forth, in 
 
24 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS. 
 
 such moving and affectionate descriptions, the 
 wrath of God, expressly revealed from heaven 
 against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men. 
 To this end it is, that our Saviour has appointed 
 his ministers to continue, even unto the end of the 
 world, persuadingvmen to repentance, both by the 
 love of God, and by the terrors of the Lord ; which, 
 as it is at all times their perpetual duty, so more 
 especially, at such seasons as are thought proper 
 to be set apart for fasting and humiliation. The 
 proper and Christian observation of which times, 
 does not consist in superstitious distinctions of 
 meats, for which there is no foundation either in 
 the law of God or in the nature of things; but it 
 consists in such general abstinence, as every serious 
 person finds, by his own experience, best to pro- 
 mote the performance of his whole Christian duty. 
 In which matter, because the temper and constitu- 
 tion, and other accidental circumstances of every 
 particular person, are different from others ; there- 
 fore no general rules can be given for all persons ; 
 but every one for himself must in particular, with 
 the prudence and sobriety of a Christian, deter- 
 mine the measure and degrees of that abstinence, 
 which the law of God has not determined, and the 
 laws or customs of men have in reason no power to 
 determine. But some things there are very pro- 
 per for all persons, and wherein the whole church 
 may join without distinction. Such are confes- 
 sions of sin, public acknowledgments of the 
 righteousness of God's laws, and solemn depreca- 
 tions of his judgments; which acts of devotion, as 
 they are always proper, so it has wisely been 
 iudged that the performing them with greater so- 
 lemnity, at certain periods or seasons set apart for 
 
BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D. D. 25 
 
 public humiliation, may he very advantageous and 
 helpful towards the Keeping up a public spirit of 
 religion in a nation. And there was the more rea- 
 son so to judge, because God himself, when he 
 brought the children of Israel over Jordan, was 
 pleased by an express command, to appoint the 
 blessings and curses of the law to be read in a so- 
 lemn manner to the whole body of the people; 
 and that the people, at the repeating of each curse, 
 should, by way of acknowledgment of the righteous- 
 ness and reasonableness of God's judgment de- 
 nounced against impenitent sinners, distinctly and 
 solemnly say , Amen. Of this we have a large account, 
 in this twenty-seventh chapter of Deuteronomy ; in 
 which, from the fifteenth verse to the end, is set 
 down a distinct denunciation of the curse or wrath 
 of God, against several particular instances of great 
 wickedness; and it concludes, or sums up all, with 
 that more general denunciation in the words of 
 the text : ' Cursed be he that confirmeth not all 
 the words of this law to do them; and all the 
 people shall say, Amen.' In discoursing upon 
 which words, because they have sometimes, by 
 weak persons, been so misunderstood, as if by 
 joining with or repeating this curse, men were in 
 danger of being led into some degree of uncha- 
 ritable censure, or to express any hard wish, against 
 such persons as they know to be guilty, or whom 
 they see live in the practice of any of those crimes 
 to which the curse is here annexed ; I shall there- 
 fore endeavour to show, first, That the repeating 
 the curse in this and the like texts, is not express- 
 ing any uncharitable wish, or desiring that any 
 evil should befal the persons against whom it is 
 denounced ; but only an acknowledgment of the 
 
26 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS. 
 
 reasonableness of God's denouncing- such threaten- 
 ing^?, in order to bring men to repentance, and a 
 confession of the justice and righteousness of God, 
 in punishing such as (notwithstanding those threat- 
 enings) continue obstinately impenitent. And 
 secondly, I shall endeavour to show, that this pub- 
 lic acknowledgment of the righteousness of God's 
 judgments upon impenitent sinners, is very reason- 
 able to be made in this manner by all Christians. 
 
 I. First, I am to .show, that the repeating the 
 curse in this and the like texts, is not expressing 
 any uncharitable wish, or desiring that any evil 
 should befal the persons against whom it is de- 
 nounced ; but only an acknowledgment of the rea- 
 sonableness of God's denouncing such threaten- 
 ings, in order to bring men to repentance, and a 
 confession of the justice and righteousness of God, 
 in punishing such as (notwithstanding those threat- 
 enings) continue obstinately impenitent. And this 
 will appear, both by a careful consideration of the 
 words of the text itself, and*by comparing them with 
 other expressions in Scripture, of the like import and 
 signification. In the words of the text itself, ' Cursed 
 be he that confirmeth not all the works of this law 
 to do them ; and all the people shall say, Amen,' 
 it is observable, in the first place, that in the very 
 first expression, ' Cursed be he,' the word ' be,' is 
 not in the original; and, for that reason, in our 
 English translation, is printed in a different cha- 
 racter : so that the words might be as truly, and 
 indeed more truly, have been rendered, ' Cursed is 
 he,' or '■ Cursed shall he be that confirmeth not all 
 the words of this law to do them ;' which is mani- 
 festly not an expression of desire, in him that pro- 
 nounceth the words, but merely a declaration of 
 
BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D. D. 27 
 
 truth, that the wrath of God is actually revealed 
 against sinners. And it is remarkable, that these 
 very words are expressly quoted by St. Paul, from 
 this passage in Deuteronomy, according to that 
 latter manner of rendering : ' As many/ says he, 
 as are of the works of the law, are under the curse ; 
 for it is written, Cursed is every one thqt continueth 
 not in all things which are written in the book of 
 the law to do them.' ' 
 
 In the next place, the same thing appears from 
 the use of the following word, 'confirm;' 'that 
 confirmeth not all the words of the law to do 
 them ;' for, as he who obeys the commandments of 
 God does not add thereby any strength to the law 
 itself, but yet is said in the text to confirm it, 
 only by assenting to the reasonableness of it in his 
 life and ' practice ; so he who pronounceth those 
 accursed, whom the law of God hath expressly 
 condemned, doth neither thereby take upon him- 
 self any power of passing censure on his brethren ; 
 neither doth he express any wish or desire of his 
 own; but only makes confession of the justice and 
 righteousness of God, in declaring his indignation 
 against sinners. 
 
 Lastly, As to the following words, ' and all the 
 people shall say, Amen ;' it is to be observed, that 
 this phrase has in Scripture two significations. 
 At the conclusion of prayers and thanksgivings, it 
 signifies a wish or desire, — So be it ; but when it is 
 added to an assertion or declaration of truth, it 
 signifies only an acknowledgment of the truth and 
 certainty of what is so declared. Thus, when our 
 Saviour uses the word, ' Amen/ as he does so fre- 
 
 1 Gal. iii. 10. 
 
28 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS. 
 
 quently in St. John's Gospel, it plainly signifies, as 
 we rightly translate it, ' Verily, verily, I say unto 
 you ;' that is, the words which I speak shall cer- 
 tainly and assuredly be accomplished. And when 
 St. Paul tells us, that • all the promises of God in 
 him are yea and amen;' 1 his meaning is evident, 
 that they are sure, infallible, and to be entirely 
 depended upon. And when our Saviour declares 
 concerning himself, ' Behold, I am alive for ever- 
 more, amen/ 1 it is manifest the word, 'amen/ 
 does not there express any wish or desire, (which 
 would have been very improper in that place,) 
 but it is a strong assertion of the infallibility of 
 that truth, that he is ' alive for evermore.' And 
 the character by which the Spirit describes him, 
 * these things saith the Amen/ 3 is distinctly ex- 
 plained in the words next following, ' the faithful 
 and true witness.' From these uses of the word 
 1 amen/ in Scripture, it appears very clearly, that 
 if the former part of the text be rendered, (as it 
 may well be,) not ' cursed be he,' but \ cursed is 
 he, that confirmeth not all the words of this law to 
 do them ;' the meaning of the latter part, ' and let 
 all the people say, ' Amen,' will be this only : let 
 the people publicly profess their acquiescence 
 in, and acknowledgment of, the justice and righte- 
 Dusness of the divine threatenings. And this sense 
 3f the words is the more certain, because in the 
 book of Jeremy, where the words of the text are 
 igain repeated, * cursed be (or Cursed is) the man 
 ,hat obeyeth not the words of this covenant,' 4 the 
 orophet immediately replies, 'Then answered I, 
 
 1 2 Con. i. 20. 2 Rev. i. 18. 3 lb. iii. 14. 
 
 * Jer. xi. 3. 
 
BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D. D. 29 
 
 and said, Amen, O Lord." Which reply being 
 made by him of his own accord, and without any 
 command, shows plainly that the word ' amen' 
 ought not there to have been rendered, as in the 
 form of a severe condemnatory prayer, ' so be it f 
 but as a form of acquiescence only in God's righte- 
 ous sentence : ' Even so, O Lord, righteous and 
 true are thy judgments.' 
 
 And thus much, from the consideration of the 
 expressions used in the text itself. The same thing 
 will appear further, by comparing these with other 
 ways of speaking used in the Scripture, of the like 
 import and signification. In the last words that 
 Jacob spake to his sons, we find this expression 
 concerning Simeon and Levi, ' Cursed be their 
 anger, for it was fierce ; and their wrath, for it was 
 cruel.' 8 It cannot be imagined that Jacob in- 
 tended to curse his sons, or bring any imprecation 
 upon them, as of his own desire ; but the words 
 are only a declaration of what he was inspired to 
 foresee would come upon them hereafter : and 
 therefore in the very same verse he changes his 
 style, and goes on in the prophetic manner of 
 speaking; not, 'Do thou divide them,' but, ' I will,' 
 says he, 'divide them in Jacob, and scatter them in 
 Israel.' And this (especially if we consider that 
 it was to take place, not so much in themselves as 
 in their posterity) leads us to the true explication 
 of those many passages in the Psalms, which in 
 our translation seem to be expressed in the form 
 of curses, or imprecations, but in the original are 
 plain predictions only of future events. To give 
 one instance out of many : ' Let his days be few, 
 
 • Jer. xi. 5. a Gen. lxix. 7. 
 
30 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS., 
 
 and let another take his office ; let his children be 
 fatherless, and his wife a widow.' 1 These words 
 being spoken by the Psalmist, not as a private 
 person, concerning his own particular enemies, but 
 as a prophet, concerning him who was to betray 
 our Lord, are plainly, not an imprecation, but a 
 prediction : and almost all the like expressions in 
 the whole book of Psalms, carry with them suffi- 
 cient marks of their being intended only as pro- 
 phetical denunciations of the wrath of God, against 
 profane men and enemies of religion, in all future 
 generations. Again : when Moses commanded six 
 of the tribes to stand upon Mount Gerizim, to bless 
 the people, it is added in the next verse, that the 
 other six should stand upon Mount Ebal, to 
 curse:* he does not continue to speak in the 
 same phrase, that as the one were to bless the 
 people, so the other should curse the people ; but 
 only that they should stand upon Mount Ebal, to 
 curse ; that is, to publish aloud the denunciation 
 of God's wrath against sinners, and the threaten- 
 ings of what calamities would certainly befal that 
 nation, if they departed from God. And this is 
 what Moses himself often did, in a more vehement 
 manner, and with more solemn words, than when it 
 was expressed barely in the form of a curse : ' When 
 you shall corrupt yourselves, and do evil in the 
 sight of the Lord thy God, to provoke him to 
 anger ; I call heaven and earth to witness against 
 you this day, that ye shall soon utterly perish from 
 off the land :' 3 and 'If thou forget the Lord thy 
 God, and walk after other gods, I testify against 
 
 1 Psalm cix. 8. 2 Deut. xxvii. 12. 
 3 Deut. iv. 25. 
 
BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D. D. 31 
 
 you this day, that ye shall surely perish.' 1 From 
 this form of expression, which is really much more 
 vehement and emphatical than that in the text, 
 and yet manifestly contains nothing of imprecation 
 in it, but merely a warning to deter men from 
 apostacy ; it is evident that the words of the text, 
 though expressed in the form of an imprecation, 
 yet must of necessity be understood in no other 
 sense, than as a like warning to deter men from 
 sin. And this is the more evident, because both 
 from the places now cited, and from the whole 
 book of Deuteronomy, it appears, that all the 
 curses in that book were denounced not only 
 against wicked persons then present, but also in 
 all succeeding generations ; with respect to whom, 
 it is plain they could be understood no otherwise 
 than as comminatory exhortations. For as the # 
 apostle declares concerning the blessing, that the 
 promise was, ' to them and to their children, and 
 to them that are afar off, tven as many as the 
 Lord our God shall call,'* so Moses expressly 
 declares concerning the curse, likewise, 'Neither 
 with you only do I make this covenant and this 
 oath ; but with him that standeth here with us 
 this day, and also with him that is not here with 
 us this day ; for when thou shalt beget children, 
 and children's children, and shalt have remained 
 long in the land ; and it come to pass that one 
 heareth the words of this curse, and despiseth it, 
 the Lord will not spare that man, but all the curses 
 that are written in this book shall lie upon him.' 3 
 The meaning is evident : if any man despises the 
 
 1 Deut. viii. 19. ' Acts, ii. 39. 
 
 3 Deut. xxix. 14, 15, 19 ; and iv. 25. 
 
32 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS. 
 
 threatenings of God, instead of being moved by 
 them to repentance, upon him shall those threat- 
 enings finally be executed. 
 
 In the New Testament, likewise, we sometimes 
 meet with the same manner of speaking. ' Unto 
 them that are contentious, and do not obey the 
 truth, but obey unrighteousness, indignation and 
 wrath, tribulation and anguish upon every soul of 
 man that doth evil, of the Jew first, and also of the 
 Gentile.' 1 In the original, it is expressed as an en- 
 tire sentence of itself, — indignation and wrath be 
 upon them : but yet, from the whole scope of St. 
 Paul's discourse, it is plain his intention was no- 
 thing more, than as if he had only in one continued 
 sentence, gone on with the foregoing declaratory 
 manner of speaking ; ■ God will render to every 
 man according to his deeds; to them that patiently 
 continue in welldoing, eternal life; but to them 
 that obey unrighteousness, indignation and wrath.' 
 
 The apostles were entrusted by our Saviour, with 
 the doctrine of life and death ; with delivering to 
 men the terms upon which their sins should be 
 forgiven or not forgiven : ' Whosesoever sins ye re- 
 mit, they are remitted unto them ; and whosesoever 
 sins ye retain, they are retained : ' yet when they 
 retained any men's sins, as in the case of shaking off 
 the dust of their feet against the unbelieving cities, it 
 is plain, they did it not as an act of power, nor as 
 a signification of any will or desire of their own, 
 that those people should be accursed ; but, as our 
 Saviour himself expresses it, it was to be ' for a 
 testimony against them,' a protestation of their un- 
 worthiness to receive the gospel : 2 just as Moses 
 
 1 Rim. it 1. 9. * Mark, vi. 11. 
 
BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D. D. 33 
 
 testified against the children of Israel, in the pas- 
 sages before cited ; and as St. Paul against certain 
 wicked persons among the Thessalonians ; ' The 
 Lord is the avenger of all such ; as we have also 
 forewarned you, and testified;' 1 and as St. John, 
 against any man that should corrupt his prophecies 
 in the Revelation : ' T testify,' saith he, ' unto every 
 such person, that God shall add unto him the 
 plagues that are written in this book.' 8 From all 
 these parallel passages it abundantly appears, that 
 the solemnly repeating the curse in the text, or any 
 other the like denunciations in Scripture, is not 
 expressing any uncharitable wish, or desiring that 
 any evil should befal the persons against whom it 
 is denounced ; but only an acknowledgment of the 
 reasonableness of God's denouncing such threaten- 
 ings, in order to bring men to repentance, and a 
 confession of the justice and righteousness of God, 
 in punishing such as (notwithstanding those threat- 
 enings) continue obstinately impenitent. 
 
 It remains that I proceed to show briefly, in the 
 second place, that such a public acknowledgment 
 of the righteousness of God's judgments upon impe- 
 nitent sinners, is very reasonable to be made in 
 this manner, by all Christians. And this is ex- 
 tremely evident from what has been already said : 
 for since reciting the curses written in Scripture, is 
 not wishing, or desiring any evil to any man ; but 
 the reason of continuing to recite them, is only the 
 same as the reason of God's first commanding 
 them to be written ; namely, to move both those 
 that hear them to repent, and to convince those 
 that recite them of the necessity of avoiding those 
 
 1 1 Thes. iv. 6. * Rev. xxii. 18. 
 
 D 
 
34 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS. 
 
 crimes, against which they acknowledge with their 
 own mouths, the curse of God to be due; it is very 
 plain, that this is not doing- hurt, but good, to our 
 neighbours ; being, indeed, nothing else than fore- 
 warning them of a danger, in order to their escap- 
 ing it. The righteousness of the law of God is 
 attested to by the natural sense of every man's own 
 conscience ; even ' the Gentiles, which have not 
 the law, being a law unto themselves, and showing 
 the work of the law written in their hearts.' The 
 judgment of God, therefore, against them who 
 commit such things as their own consciences con- 
 demn, is according to truth ;•■ that is, it is accord- 
 ing to right and equity; as the phrase is afterwards 
 explained ;* where it is styled more expressly, 'the 
 revelation of the righteous judgment of God :' righte- 
 ous, in condemning those only, who must by all men 
 be confessed to be worthy of death ; (as St. Paul ex- 
 presses it, Rom i. 32,) ' who knowing the judgment 
 of God,' (in the original, 'the just judgment of 
 God,') ' not only do the same, but have pleasure in 
 them that do them ;' or, (as it is found in some of 
 the most ancient copies,) ' who knowing the 
 righteousjudgmentsofGod,yetdo notconsider, that 
 they who do such things are worthy of death, and 
 not only they that do them themselves, but they 
 also who countenance others that do them.' Now, 
 what the equity of the thing itself thus compels 
 every man's conscience secretly to acknowledge 
 within him, the glory of God and the benefit of 
 men make it reasonable should be publicly pro- 
 fessed before the world ; < that God may be justified 
 in his saying, and clear when he is judged ;' 3 and 
 
 ' Rom. ii. 2. * Ibid, ii. 5. 3 Psalm li. 4. 
 
BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D. D. 35 
 
 that men may be moved to repent, by considering 
 that, if they do it not, they will have no apology to 
 make for themselves, ' but every mouth will be 
 stopped before God.' 1 and at the day of judgment 
 it will be said to every impenitent person, ' Thine 
 own mouth condemneth thee, and not I; yea, 
 thine own lips testify against thee ;' 2 not, that by 
 making such profession, any man shall be more 
 liable to be condemned, than if he made it not; 
 but that the righteousness of God's judgment shall 
 be manifested in condemning men for such things 
 only, as either they themselves professed, or (which 
 is the same thing) could not deny, to be worthy of 
 death. By which phrase, being worthy of death, 
 it is not to be understood only, that such crimes 
 may be so punished without any injustice; but 
 also, that it is necessary, in the government of the 
 world, that we should be so punished. God him- 
 self therefore, the infinitely good and merciful Go- 
 vernor of the universe, pronounces curses against the 
 wicked, not as taking any delight so to do ; but the 
 Scripture always represents him doing it, as unwil- 
 lingly, as with reluctance, and as his 'strange 
 work.' 3 And our Saviour also himself, who loved 
 us, and gave himself for us, and laid down his own 
 life to redeem us from death ; yet, even he shall 
 say, to those who impenitently reject his gracious 
 offers of life, * Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
 everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his 
 angels:' 4 and, 'in the presence of the holy angels, 
 and in the presence of the Lamb,' who assuredly 
 
 1 Rom. iii. 19. 2 Job, xv. 6. J Isaiah, xxviii. 21. 
 
 4 Matt. xxv. 41. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS. 
 
 can take no pleasure in beholding- any punishment 
 but what is necessary, 'shall they be tormented 
 with fire and brimstone ;' ' and the saints in heaven, 
 who are far from having in them any revenge, or 
 any uncharitableness, but only a right sense of the 
 necessary administration of justice in God's king- 
 dom, are described after the following manner : * I 
 heard a great voice of much people in heaven, say- 
 ing, Allelujah, salvation and glory, and honour, and 
 power unto the Lord our God ; for true and righte- 
 ous are his judgments ; for he hath judged the great 
 whore, which did corrupt the earth with her forni- 
 cation ; and hath avenged the blood of his servants 
 at her hand.' * And again : ' I heard the angel of 
 the waters say, thou art righteous, O Lord, which 
 art, and wast, and shalt be, because thou hast 
 judged thus ; for they have shed the blood of saints 
 and prophets, and thou hast given them blood to 
 drink, for they are worthy : and I heard another 
 out of the altar say, even so, Lord God Almighty, 
 true and righteous are thy judgments.' 3 The sense 
 of all these places is nothing else, but that it is rea- 
 sonable all the world should make acknowledgment 
 of the righteousness of God's judgments; and of 
 the necessity there is in the nature of things, and 
 in the government of God, that wickedness should 
 finally be destroyed. And though it be in great 
 variety of expression, that the Scripture sets forth 
 this truth ; yet, by comparing the several expres- 
 sions one with another, it is plain they all termi- 
 nate only in the same thing. 
 
 What Solomon thus expresses, 'He that justi- 
 
 ' R*v. xiv. 10. * Ibid. xix. 10. 3 Ibid. xvi. 6. 
 
BY SAMUEL CLARKE, D.D. 37 
 
 fieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, 
 they both are an abomination to the Lord ;' ! is in 
 the prophet Isaiah thus : 'Wo unto them which jus- 
 tify the wicked, and take away the righteousness of 
 the righteous from him ;' s and Pro v. xxiv. 24, in a still 
 more severe manner of speaking, ' He that saith 
 unto the wicked, thou art righteous, him shall the 
 people curse; nations shall abhor him/ 3 Yet the 
 meaning of all these places is still evidently one 
 and the same ; and the nations cursing such a per- 
 son, plainly signifies nothing more, than an univer- 
 sal acknowledgment of the reasonableness and ne- 
 cessity of the threatenings denounced of God 
 against him. Tn the book of Habakkuk, the figure 
 is carried still higher : ' The very stone shall cry out 
 of the wall, and the beam out of the timber shall 
 answer it: Wo to him that buildeth a town with 
 blood, and establisheth a city by iniquity;' 3 and 
 in that pathetical expression of our Saviour, ' If 
 these should hold their peace, the stones would 
 immediately cry out/ 4 It is a highly figurative 
 and very elegant manner of expressing only the 
 reasonableness and necessity of the thing to be 
 done. And because the design and end of all 
 these ways gf speaking in Scripture, is this only, to 
 convince men of the necessity of coming to re- 
 pentance, of reforming their manners, and of obey- 
 ing the law of God ; it is therefore very evident, 
 that as showing men the penalties threatened in 
 human laws, is a kind and friendly office, as only 
 giving them warning in what manner to avoid 
 them; so reciting, wilh the same intention, the 
 
 4 Prov. xvii. 15. 9 Isaiah, v. 23. 
 
 3 Hab. ii. 11, 12. 4 Luke, xix. 40. 
 
38 ON DENOUNCING CURSES UPON SINNERS. 
 
 curses of God set forth in Scripture against all im- 
 penitent sinners, is likewise doing, not hurt, but 
 good, to our neighbours. 
 
 The only inference I shall draw at this time 
 from what has been said, and wherewith I shall 
 conclude, is this; that if, when the general denun- 
 ciations of the wrath of God against sinners are re- 
 cited, there be and ought to be, a great tenderness 
 used in applying them in particular ; and the de- 
 sign of repeating them publicly upon solemn occa- 
 sions of humiliation is, that every man may apply 
 them seriously to his own conscience, and not that 
 any man should judge his brother; ('for who art 
 thou that judgest another man's servant ? to his 
 own master he standeth or falleth;) from hence we 
 may learn the extreme wickedness of those men's 
 pretended Catholic religion, who presumptuously 
 taking it for granted, that all who receive not their 
 absurd doctrines, shall be eternally punished by 
 God ; take upon them to anticipate that unrigh- 
 teous sentence, which they profanely pass in the seat 
 of God; and destroy men's bodies for no other rea- 
 son, but because they have first, with impious and 
 antichristian uncharitableness, presumed to give 
 judgment of condemnation against their souls. 
 " Come out of her, my people, that ye be not 
 partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of her 
 plagues ; for in her is found the blood of prophets 
 and of saints, and of all that are slain upon the 
 earth.' 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 
 
 [Francis Atterbury wai born in 1662, appointed to the Deanery of 
 Carlisle in 1704, and to the Bishopric of Rochester in 1713. He died at Parii, 
 in 1732.] 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 Matt. xiv. 23. 
 
 When he had sent the multitude away, he went up 
 into a mountain, apart, to pray. 
 
 It hath been disputed, which is a state of greater 
 perfection, the social or the solitary ; whereas, in 
 truth, neither of these estates is complete without 
 the other ; as the example of our blessed Lord (the 
 unerring test and measure of perfection) informs 
 us. His life (which ought to be the pattern of 
 ours) was a mixture of contemplation and action, 
 of austerity and freedom : we find him often where 
 the greatest concourse was, in the market-places, in 
 the synagogues, and at festival entertainments; and 
 we find him also retiring from the crowd into a 
 desert, or a garden, and there employing himself 
 in all kinds of religious exercise and intercourse 
 with God, in fasting, meditation, and prayer. In 
 imitation of his spotless example, we may, doubt- 
 less, lead public lives, innocently and usefully; 
 conversing with men, and doing good to them; 
 mutually sowing and reaping the several comforts 
 and advantages of human society. But because 
 
42 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 the pleasures of conversation, when too freely 
 tasted, are intoxicating and dangerous ; because 
 the temptations we there meet with are many and 
 mighty; and even where the spirit is willing to 
 resist, yet the flesh is often weak ; we ought, there- 
 fore, to lessen the too great complaisance we are 
 apt to have in such satisfactions, by fit intermis- 
 sions of them ; to strengthen ourselves for such 
 public encounters by our religious privacies; to 
 retire from the world sometimes, and converse with 
 God and our own consciences ; examining the state, 
 and fortifying the powers of our souls, in secrecy 
 and silence : we must do as our Lord did, ' send 
 the multitude away, and go up into'the mountain 
 apart to pray.' 
 
 I shall, from these words, take occasion to dis- 
 course to you, concerning the great, but much 
 neglected duty, of religious retreats and recol- 
 lection. I shall first briefly show you under what 
 limitations I would be understood to recommend 
 the duty; and then, what the advantages are which 
 arise from a devout and discreet performance of it. 
 
 I mean not to press upon you that sort of retire- 
 ment, which is so much esteemed and practised in 
 the church of Rome ; where all perfection is 
 reckoned to consist in solitude, and no man is 
 allowed capable of arriving at the height of virtue, 
 who doth not strip himself of all the conveniences 
 of life, and renounce all manner of acquaint- 
 ance with the world, and the things of it. I see not 
 wherein this state of life claims the pre-eminence 
 over all others ; how it is founded in nature and 
 reason ; what particular example, precept, or direc- 
 tion there is in the gospel, inviting us to it. John 
 the Baptist is indeed there represented, as seques- 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 43 
 
 tering himself from human converse, and spending 
 his time 'in the wilderness;' but as he is said to 
 have come ' in the spirit and power of Elias/ 1 (a 
 spirit far different from the spirit of the gospel,) 
 and did, therefore, professedly imitate that prophet 
 in his severe manner of life, and look, and diet, 
 and garb, and behaviour, and doctrine ; so his ex- 
 ample belonged rather to the Mosaic state, under 
 which he lived and taught, than to the Christian 
 dispensation, which began where his preaching 
 ended. Nor did even the Baptist himself propose 
 his own practice, as a pattern to his followers : on 
 the contrary, when the people, the publicans, and 
 the soldiers inquired of him, \ what they should do 
 to flee from the wrath to come,' he did not exhort 
 them to go out of the world into the wilderness ; 
 but gave them such directions only as related to a 
 faithful discharge of their duty in their several sta- 
 tions and callings : and when afterwards our Sa- 
 viour began to enter on his ministry, and to appear 
 as our Saviour, by publishing the gospel of his 
 kingdom, we find nothing either in his actions or 
 his doctrine, to countenance that recluse and soli- 
 tary state, which some since, who would be thought 
 best to have imitated his example and obeyed his 
 precepts, have so zealously espoused and practised. 
 His divine discourses were chiefly spent in press- 
 ing men to exercise those graces which adorn the 
 sociable state : even his first sermon on the mount, 
 to the multitude, did, in the entrance of it, recom- 
 mend and enjoin a public, conspicuous, and ex- 
 emplary virtue; and (with some allusion, perhaps, 
 to that eminence on which he sat, and the com- 
 
 1 Luke, i. 17; ix. 55. 
 
44 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 pany which surrounded him) he then likened his 
 disciples to * a city set on a hill, that cannot be 
 hid ; ' he commanded them to ' put their light in a 
 candlestick, not under a bushel ; and so to make it 
 shine before men, that they, seeing their good 
 works, might glorify their Father which is in 
 heaven. , ' 
 
 Far be it from me, however, to condemn all 
 those good and holy persons who have betaken 
 themselves to this solitary and austere course of 
 living. Doubtless, many of them were actuated 
 by a sincere, but misguided principle of piety ; the 
 fruits of which, though mixed with a great alloy 
 of superstition, did yet, in divers respects, redound 
 to the credit of religion, and the good of mankind. 
 But supposing these to be real, yet they were, I 
 say, uncommanded instances of virtue ; not possi- 
 ble, or, if possible, not fit to be practised by the 
 far greater part of Christians. The retreat, there- 
 fore, which I am speaking of, is not that of monks 
 and hermits, but of men living in the world, and 
 going out of it for a time, in order to return into 
 it ; it is a temporary, not a total retreat ; such as 
 we may leave off, or resume at pleasure, accord- 
 ing as we have need of it, or an opportunity for it ; 
 such as is consistent with all the business, and even 
 with the innocent pleasures of life ; and is so far 
 from interfering with the duties of our public 
 offices and stations, that it disposes and enables us 
 for the better discharge of them. It is this sort of 
 retreat which may properly be made the matter of 
 general exhortation from the pulpit, because it is 
 really matter of general obligation to every good 
 and sincere Christian. 
 
 1 Matt. v. 14, 15, 16- 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 45 
 
 No man is, or ought to be, so deeply immersed 
 in the affairs of this world, as not to be able to re- 
 tire from them now and then into his closet, there 
 to mind the concerns of another. Every day of 
 his life, early or late, some moments he may and 
 must find to bestow this way : the Lord's-day, par- 
 ticularly, is a great opportunity of this kind, which 
 can never wholly be neglected without indevotion, or 
 even without scandal. And such also is the annual 
 season of recollection, in which we are. At such times 
 as these, either when the labours and ordinary occu- 
 pations of life cease, or when public diversions and 
 etertainments are forbidden ; then every one, the 
 noble and the mean, the wealthy and the poor, 
 hath it certainly in his power, if it be but in his 
 heart, to retire — to step aside from the hurry and 
 vanities of life, and all the allurements of sense, 
 and to examine, improve, and to enjoy himself in 
 private. 
 
 That we may be all excited so to do, I shall pro- 
 ceed, in the next place, to represent to you the 
 several advantages attending this religious prac- 
 tice ; whether we consider it, as a means of effa- 
 cing the ill impressions made on our minds in daily 
 conversation, or as an opportunity of pursuing 
 further degrees of perfection, and abounding in all 
 the methods of spiritual improvement. 
 
 The advantages of the first kind, which it af- 
 fords us, are plainly such as these : that it unites 
 and fixes our scattered thoughts ; places us out of 
 the reach of the most dangerous temptations ; frees 
 us from the insinuating contagion of ill examples ; 
 and hushes and lays asleep those troublesome pas- 
 sions, which are the great disturbers of our repose 
 and happiness. 
 
46 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 A dissipation of thought is the natural and un- 
 avoidable effect of our conversing much in the 
 world ; where we cannot help squandering away a 
 great deal of our time upon useless objects, of no 
 true worth in themselves, and of no real concern to 
 us. We roll on in a circle of vain empty pleasures, 
 and are delivered over continually from one slight 
 amusement to another ; ever seemingly very busy, 
 and ever really very idle ; applying ourselves with- 
 out respite to that, which it becomes us most to 
 neglect, and utterly neglectful of that one thing 
 necessary, which it becomes and behoves us most 
 to pursue. This gives us by degrees such a levity 
 and wantonness of spirit, as refuses admittance to 
 all serious thoughts, and renders us incapable of re- 
 flection ; makes our closet a terrible place to us, 
 and solitude a burden. To retrieve ourselves from 
 this vain, uncertain, roving, distracted way of think- 
 ing and living, it is requisite to retire frequently, 
 and to converse much with (what we above all 
 things love, and yet above all things hate to con- 
 verse with) ourselves ; to inure our minds to recol- 
 lection, to fix them on the greatest and most con- 
 cerning objects, those which religion suggests, and 
 which will, by their importance, deserve, and en- 
 gage, and command our attention ; till the busy 
 swarm of vain images, that besets us, be thoroughly 
 dispersed, and the several scattered rays of thought, 
 by being thus collected together, do by little and 
 little warm our frozen hearts, and at last produce 
 an holy flame. 
 
 The expedience of retirement is yet greater, as it 
 removes us out of the way of the most pressing and 
 powerful temptations that are incident to human 
 nature. We all know by experience, that these 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 47 
 
 meet us most frequently and affect us most strongly 
 in society; where our senses, the great inlets of 
 temptation, are most awakened, and tempting- ob- 
 jects, by their number and nearness, make the 
 most vivid and lasting impressions upon us. In- 
 deed, there is no place, no state or scene of life, 
 that hath not its proper and peculiar temptations; 
 even solitude itself is not without them ; but they 
 are few and faint, in comparison with those to 
 which our appearance on the great stage of the 
 wjprld exposes us ; and, whenever they attack us in 
 our recesses, they do, or may, find us prepared, 
 and upon our guard; we are then at leisure to en- 
 counter them, and have helps near at hand, which, 
 if made use of, will enable us to decline or baffle 
 them. Whereas, in public, we are merely passive 
 to such impressions; which strike our minds so 
 violently, and succeed each other so fast, that we 
 have no opportunity, no strength, no inclination 
 almost to withstand them. 
 
 The great risk which virtue runs in company 
 is from the neighbourhood of ill examples, which 
 are of so contagious a nature, that if we live much 
 amongst them we shall as surely be corrupted by 
 them, as he that often breathes in ill air will at last 
 partake of the infection. It is dangerous for the 
 most innocent person in the world to be too fre- 
 quently and nearly a witness to the commission of 
 vice and folly. Such views lessen the natural 
 horror we have for such actions, and render the 
 thoughts of them more familiar and less displeas- 
 ing to us. Especially when we are used to see ill 
 things practised by persons whom we regard ; the 
 favourable opinion we have of the doer extends 
 
48 ON RELIGIOUS RBTIREMENT. 
 
 itself to the action done, and leads us insensibly 
 from seeing to approving, and from approving- to 
 imitating. And thus being (the very best of us) 
 prone to do evil, and living in the midst of evil ; 
 being attacked thus from without, and betrayed 
 from within ; we are not capable of making an effec- 
 tual resistance : the only refuge we have is in re- 
 treat, where we may at leisure correct the ill im- 
 pressions that have been made upon us, and by 
 disuse and distance weaken the force of those 
 pernicious influences which we could not wholly 
 avoid. 
 
 Another advantage which retirement affords us 
 is, that it calms and composes all the passions; those 
 especially of the tumultuous kind ; which, while the 
 business and pleasures of life possess our hearts, 
 are under a .restless and violent agitation. We sel- 
 dom mix long in conversation, without meeting 
 with some accident that ruffles and disturbs us; 
 somewhat that plays either upon our hopes or our 
 fears, our aversions or desires. An injurious or 
 slighting word is thrown out, which we think our- 
 selves obliged to resent ; or some innocent expres- 
 sion of ours is misinterpreted and resented by 
 others, and that provokes a return. Our enemy 
 comes in our way, and kindles thoughts of aversion 
 and hatred in us; we look upon those who are 
 above us in all the advantages of life with envious 
 eyes, and with contempt on those who are beneath 
 us. Thus are we delivered over from passion to 
 passion, tossed and disquieted in our minds, during 
 the intercourse we maintain with the world. But 
 when we quit it and retire, all these winds are pre- 
 sently laid, and there is a perfect calm. The ob- 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 49 
 
 jects which excite us being removed, our appetites 
 also languish and die away ; we possess our souls 
 in patience and peace, and enjoy a profound tran- 
 quillity and rest, the pleasure of which is great to 
 those who are so happy as to have a relish for it; 
 and is enhanced by being always tasted with inno- 
 cence. 
 
 Wouldst thou then be free from envy and scorn, 
 from anger and strife, fly from the occasions of 
 them ; steal away from the great scene of passion 
 and business into thy privacy, shut the doors about 
 thee, ' commune with thine own heart in thy cham- 
 ber, and be still.' ' There all animosities are for- 
 gotten, all pursuits, all competition cease; there 
 all marks of distinction are laid aside; the great 
 and the lowly, the prince and the subject, are 
 upon the level ; equally under the eye of one com- 
 mon Master, equally desirous of pleasing him, and 
 mindless of lesser interests and concerns. There 
 the vanities and vexations of this world are shut 
 out, and the considerations of another are let in; 
 and our soul enjoys that sweet contentment and re- 
 pose which it enjoys nowhere else on this side 
 heaven. 
 
 I have hitherto considered the usefulness o£ reli- 
 gious retreat, with respect to some ill impressions 
 made upon us in conversation, which it removes : 
 — I shall now consider it as productive of the chief 
 Christian graces and virtues, inasmuch as it af- 
 fords us the best opportunity of knowing God and 
 ourselves, and of taking all the proper methods to 
 reconcile and approve ourselves to God, which are 
 consequent upon such a knowledge. For though 
 
 ! Psalm iv. 4. 
 
50 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 it be expedient for every rank and order of men, 
 yet it is more particularly advantageous to penitents, 
 to ' go up* with our Saviour ' into the mountain, 
 apart, to pray.' 
 
 It is our duty and our privilege, our chief honour 
 and happiness, to be 'acquainted with God;' 1 and 
 this acquaintance can never be made, but where we 
 divest ourselves of all other acquaintance — in our 
 closets. When we have called off our thoughts 
 from worldly pursuits and engagements, then (and 
 not till then) are we at liberty to fix them on the 
 best, the most deserving, and desirable of objects — 
 God; to study his blessed nature and perfections; 
 to imprint a filial awe of him on our hearts, a lively 
 sense of his perpetual inspection and presence ; to 
 abound in all the methods of devout application to 
 him, in acts of petition and praise, of joy and won- 
 der, of submission and hope, of love and affiance; 
 to open all our wants and impart all our griefs to 
 him, and to express, in the most significant man- 
 ner we are able, our entire and unlimited depen- 
 dence upon him ; till, by often dwelling on such 
 thoughts and reflections as these, we have made 
 them familiar, habitual, and natural to us ; and can 
 havens easy and delightful a recourse to God, in all 
 accidents and upon all occasions, as a son hath to a 
 beloved and loving parent, who he knows is at all 
 times able to assist and ready to receive him: in a 
 word, till we can look up to God, in each step of our 
 conduct, as the supreme end and guide of all our 
 actions, the fixed centre of all our wishes, desires, 
 and designs; till we bring ourselves to love nothing 
 in competition with him, nothing but in order to 
 
 1 Job. xxii. 21. 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 51 
 
 the enjoyment of him; and resolve to do nothing, 
 and be nothing, but what we are sure will please 
 him. 
 
 Can any thing refine, raise, or ennoble our na- 
 tures more than such a conversation as this, which 
 is thus begun, improved, and perfected in soli- 
 tude ? Shall we not think it worth our while to 
 cease, for a time, from cultivating useless and pe- 
 rishing friendships with men, that we may be the 
 more at leisure and the better qualified to enter 
 into this divine correspondence, which is of the 
 vastest concern to us, and upon which our ever- 
 lasting welfare depends ? 
 
 While, indeed, our hearts are deeply engaged in 
 the concerns of this world, we cannot well relish 
 the pleasures of such a spiritual commerce ; but, 
 after we have once accustomed and inured our- 
 selves to it, we shall find it the most delightful en- 
 tertainment of the mind of man, pleasing as light 
 to the eyes, ' sweeter than honey and the honey- 
 comb.' Sensual men may make sport with such a 
 pretence, and call it enthusiasm, and the product of 
 an heated imagination ; but they, that taste the 
 satisfaction, know it to be real, and would not part 
 with it for all the delights this world can afford ; 
 and which (in the disparaging phrase of the apos- 
 tle) they ' count but as dung, in comparison of 
 the excellency of this knowledge of God and 
 Christ Jesus.' 1 
 
 As religious retirement is a great means of ad- 
 vancing us in the knowledge of God, so doth it 
 assist us towards attaining a true knowledge of 
 ourselves; towards searching and trying all our 
 
 1 Phil. iii. 8. 
 
 E 2 
 
52 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 ways, and getting a right information concern- 
 ing the state of our consciences. He that will 
 thrive in his temporal affairs must often balance 
 his accounts, examine his gains and losses, and 
 see what proportion they bear to each other; 
 consider where his conduct may have been faulty 
 in any respect, and how for the future to recti- 
 fy it. The same vigilance and care is requisite 
 in relation to our spiritual concerns also ; and 
 we can never exert it effectually but in the closet, 
 where privacy and silence befriend our enquiries. 
 When the importunity of outward objects ceases, 
 when the noise and avocations of a troublesome 
 world are at a distance, we may enter upon these 
 searches without difficulty, and finish them without 
 interruption. We may then look inwards, and 
 take a distinct view of what at other times passes 
 there unobserved ; of our hidden inclinations and 
 aversions; of those springs which secretly move 
 us in all our pursuits ; of the temptations that be- 
 set us hardest, and most frequently foil us ; of the 
 ground that we have lost or got in our several en- 
 counters. And when we are advanced thus far in the 
 knowledge of ourselves, and bf our ruling sins and 
 infirmities, we have taken the most useful and ne- 
 cessary step towards abounding in the three great 
 duties of the penitent, contrition, resolution, and 
 prayer. 
 
 Contrition is an holy grief, excited by a lively 
 sense, not only of the punishment due to our guilt, 
 (that the schools call attrition,) but likewise of the 
 infinite goodness of God, against which we- have 
 offended ; accompanied with a detestation of our 
 gin, and of ourselves, for the sake of it. At this 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 63 
 
 act of the mind, repentance (properly speaking) 
 begins; and this godly concern of heart is rarely 
 attained (to be sure, it can never be duly exerted 
 and improved) but in private. And, therefore, in 
 the story of St. Peter, we may observe that, as 
 soon as a conviction of his guilt had seized him, it 
 is said, ' he went out, and wept bitterly :* 1 he with- 
 drew into a secret place, where he might mourn his 
 own fall with freedom ; where he might feed, and 
 raise up to a due height, the inward anguish he 
 felt, and indulge himself in all the expressions of 
 sincere sorrow. The wounds of conscience, like 
 other wounds, though generally received in pub- 
 lic, must always be healed in private : there they 
 may be laid open and searched to the bottom ; 
 there the raging smart of them is best endured, 
 and there suitable remedies are most easily and 
 most usefully applied ; where leisure and rest, si- 
 lence and a proper discipline, assist the patient 
 and promote the cure. 
 
 The next step to contrition, is resolution, or a 
 firm immutable purpose of heart, never more to al- 
 low ourselves in that transgression, which we now 
 abominate and deplore. And, in order to the 
 forming such a well-weighed and stable resolution, 
 there must be a calm and clear foresight of the 
 difficulties which may attend the execution of it, 
 and a just computation of our own strength to 
 bear up against them ; we must deliberately con- 
 sider under what circumstances the temptation, 
 against which we are now arming ourselves, has 
 beset us hardest, and how, for the future, we may 
 best decline them; what helps and supports we 
 
 1 Matt. xvi. 57 
 
54 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 have by experience found most useful, and how, 
 in the day of trial, we may be secure of them ; to 
 what a broken, dispirited state of mind we have 
 already reduced ourselves, by so often and lightly 
 departing from what we had proposed ; and, with 
 how much greater difficulty, every time that we 
 give way, we recover our ground. I need not 
 prove to you, that these, and the like reflections, 
 which are necessary towards our resolving well 
 and wisely, can never be dwelt on, in all their due 
 compass and force, but at leisure, and in sacred 
 retirement. Doubtless, the good Psalmist had 
 been some time in his closet and on his knees, 
 when he uttered those emphatical words, ■ I have 
 sworn, and am stedfastly purposed, to keep thy 
 righteous judgments.' ' 
 
 But of all the duties of the penitent, that which 
 privacy, best qualifies us for is prayer, 8 which it 
 enables us to perform in such a manner as is likely 
 to be most prevalent and effectual. Great indeed 
 is the excellence and advantage of public devo- 
 tions, as they testify our common reverence of the 
 divine Being ; as they are best fitted to implore, or 
 
 1 Psalm cxix. 100. 
 
 2 Tivog evticev fig to opog avafSaivei ; 7raidevo)v r)fxag on 
 kciKov t) tprjuia kcu i) fiovwaig ot'civ ivrvyxavfiv dky tq 0£<£. 
 Ala tvto (Tvvt\u)g tig rag tpr/fiag dirtiai^ koikIl SiavvKTtptvei 
 7roXXa.Kig f.vxoptvog, 7raidevu)v r)fidg Kai tx]v dirb rS KatpS 
 Kiu tt\v ctTcb rS totth SqpdaOai kv rolg tv^alg drapaZLav' 
 t'lffv^iag yap fiTjTTjp y tprjfiog, kcii ya\//v?j, /cai Xifirjv cnrdv- 
 nov diraWaTTHoa Sopvfiajv y'lfidg. — " Our Lord's going up into 
 the mountain was designed to teach us the advantage of solitude 
 in our converse with God. He continually withdraws to lonely 
 places, and there often passes the night in prayer, for the purpose 
 of instructing us to seek an undisturbed time and place for our 
 devotions ; for retirement is the parent of tranquillity, and the 
 haven where we find shelter from the noise and tumult of the 
 world " Chrysost. in Matt. xiv. 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 55 
 
 acknowledge public blessings, and as tbey excite 
 a public emulation in the breasts of sincere wor 
 shippers. However, in some respects, they must 
 yield the pre-eminence to closet-prayer; particu- 
 larly in this, that they are not so well calculated 
 as that, to procure ease and repose of conscience to 
 the sinner, and to adjust particular accounts be- 
 tween God and our souls. For it is of special use 
 to this purpose, in these three respects; as it af- 
 fords us the best opportunity of being fixed, fer- 
 vent, and circumstantial in our addresses to God. 
 
 In the solemn service of the sanctuary, let us en- 
 deavour never so much to prevent distractions, we 
 shall now and then be sensible of them : outward 
 objects will break in upon our senses, and divert 
 the application of our minds ; even the length of 
 the offices, and the daily return of the same forms, 
 will, to persons not rightly qualified and disposed, 
 occasion spiritual languors and wanderings. And 
 this is not the case only of stated forms : the same 
 inconvenience doth, in a much higher degree, be- 
 long to unpremeditated prayer; the hearers of 
 which must first judge of the fitness, both of the 
 matter and the expression, before they can reason- 
 ably join in what they hear. And thus the novel- 
 ty of the phrase, instead of fixing, breaks and di- 
 vides the attention of a sincere worshipper; his 
 curiosity, indeed, may be awakened by this means, 
 but his devotion is certainly checked and sus- 
 pended. 
 
 Now these obstacles are all removed, these in- 
 conveniences are prevented, when we pray in pri- 
 vate. We are then placed immediately under the 
 eye of God, which awes us; but under no other 
 eye, and in the neighbourhood of no other ob- 
 
56 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 jects, which might divert or discompose us: we 
 are at liberty to employ that part of our time in 
 the performance of this service, when we find our- 
 selves best disposed for it; to make choice of our 
 own thoughts and our own words; such as are 
 best suited to our present necessities and desires; 
 and what is thus passing within ourselves, we can- 
 not but perceive and attend to : we may break off 
 from the duty, whenever we find our attention 
 flags, and return to it at a more seasonable oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 Nor are we capable, at such times, of being more 
 fixed only, but likewise more fervent and inflamed. 
 True religion is ever modest and reserved in its 
 demeanour, when it appears in public ; jealous of 
 doing any thing that may savour of vanity and 
 ostentation ; unwilling to allow itself in any such 
 earnestness of speech, or singularity of behaviour, 
 as may call off the eyes and ears of others to ob- 
 serve them : it contents itself, for the most part, 
 with a composed and serious look, with a simple 
 and unaffected carriage. But, when public regards 
 and restraints are taken off, the pious soul may 
 then let itself loose into the highest fervours of 
 zeal, into the freest raptures of thought, and into a 
 suitable vehemence and warmth of expression : there 
 is no sort of holy address, which it is not then al- 
 lowed to make use of; no outward signs of devo- 
 tion and reverence, which it may jiot decently 
 abound in. 
 
 There is yet another great advantage that attends 
 our private devotions ; they give us leave to be as 
 express and particular as we please in our represen- 
 tations. In the church, the sinner and the saint, 
 men of all ranks, distinction, and attainments in 
 
BY BISHOP ATTERBURY. 57 
 
 virtue, must join in the same common forms : and 
 though each of them may, by a sudden glance of 
 mind, adapt the general words to his own circum- 
 stances, yet one branch of the service presses too 
 fast upon another, to admit of any pause between 
 them. And they, therefore, who lie under the load 
 of any particular guilt, rise not from their knees 
 with so much comfort, as they would have done, 
 had they been at liberty to dwell upon it, and con- 
 fess it in all its aggravations. This liberty, their 
 closet, and that alone, can afford them. There 
 they may expatiate as much as they please upon 
 their wants and unworthiness : there they may 
 pour out all their complaints to God, and lay open 
 all their griefs and fears, and send up all their 
 thanks and acknowledgments : there importunities 
 are not forbidden, repetitions are not unbecoming; 
 but they may persist knocking till it is opened to 
 them, and asking till they have obtained. 
 
 These are some of the many spiritual advant- 
 ages, which the present hours of holy recollection, 
 when well employed, will be sure to afford us. And 
 God grant, that all of us may, as we have opportu- 
 nity and leisure, so employ them ! 
 
 Indeed, the greater our sphere of public action 
 is, the less time we can allow ourselves to spend in 
 these religious exercises ; but still some of it is due 
 to them, nor can any secular cares or avocations 
 whatsoever wholly excuse us from paying it. Our 
 blessed Lord, we are sure, had very great business 
 to transact with mankind, and a very short time in 
 which to finish it ; and yet, during his three years' 
 conversation on earth, we find him often exchang- 
 ing the duties of the active and public state, for 
 those of the solitary and private, — ' sending the 
 
58 ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 
 
 multitudes away, and going up into the mountain, 
 apart, to pray.' And we are sure, that in this, as 
 well as 1 other respects, he ' left us an example, that 
 we should follow his steps.' ' 
 
 To him, together with the Father and the blessed 
 Spirit, three persons and one God, be ascribed all 
 majesty, dominion, and power, now and for ever- 
 more. — Amen. 
 
 1 2 Peter, ii. 21. 
 
SERMON IV. 
 
 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 BY BISHOP HALL. 
 
 (Joseph Hall was born in 1574. In 1627 he was made bishop of Worcester 
 whence, in 1641, he was translated to Norwich. Died 1666.] 
 
SERMON IV. 
 
 Gal. h. 20. 
 
 / am crucified with Christ : nevertheless I live. 
 
 He that was once tossed in the confluence of two 
 seas,' was once no less straitened in his resolutions 
 betwixt life and death. 2 Neither doth my text 
 argue him in any other case here : as there he 
 knew not whether he should choose, so here he 
 knew not whether he had. ' I am crucified, ' there 
 he is dead ; yet * I live, ' there he is alive again : 
 1 yet not I, ' there he lives not ; but Christ in me,' 
 there he more than lives. This holy correction 
 makes my text full of wonders, full of sacred rid- 
 dles. 1. The living God is dead upon the cross, 
 'Christ crucified.' 2. St. Paul who died by the 
 sword, dies on the cross. 3. St. Paul who was not 
 Paul till after Christ's death, is yet crucified with 
 Christ. 4. St. Paul thus crucified yet lives. 5. St. 
 Paul lives not himself, whilst he lives. 6. Christ 
 who is crucified, lives in Paul, who was crucified 
 with*him. 
 
 Acts, xxvii. 41. 'Phil. i. 23. 
 
62 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 See then here, both a Lent and an Easter ; a Lent 
 of mortification — 'I am crucified with Christ;' an 
 Easter of resurrection and life — ' I live ; yet 
 not I, but Christ lives in me/ The Lent of my 
 text will be sufficient (as proper) for this season; 
 wherein my speech shall pass through three stages 
 of discourse: Christ crucified, St. Paul crucified, 
 St. Paul crucified with Christ. In all which, 
 your Christian patience shall as much shorten my 
 way, as my care shall shorten the way to your pa- 
 tience. 
 
 Christ's cross is the first lesson of our infancy, 
 worthy to be our last, and all. The great doctor of 
 the Gentiles affected not to fly any higher pitch. 
 Grande cruris sacramentum, as Ambrose writes: 
 this is the greatest wonder that ever earth or heaven 
 yielded. God incarnate, was /uiya fxv^rjpiov, 1 * a 
 great mystery ;' but God suffering and dying was 
 so much more, as death is more penal than birth. 
 The Godhead of man, and the blood of God, are 
 two such miracles, as the angels of heaven can 
 never enough look into, never admire enough. 
 
 Ruffinus tells us, that amongst the sacred cha- 
 racters of the Egyptians, the cross was anciently 
 one, which was said to signify eternal life ; hence, 
 their learneder sort were converted to, and confirmed 
 in the faith. Surely, we know, that in God's hiero- 
 glyphics, eternal life is both represented and exhi- 
 bited to us by the cross. That the cross of Christ 
 was made of the tree of life; a slip whereof the 
 angels gave to Adam's son, out of Paradise, is but 
 a Jewish legend ; Galatine may believe it, not we. 
 
 1 I Tim. iii. 16. 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 63 
 
 But, that it is made the tree of life to all believers, 
 we are sure. This is the only instrument to 
 scale heaven ; never man ascended thither, but 
 by it. By this, Christ himself climbed up to his 
 own glory. 'Father, glorify thy name;' that is, 
 saith he, 'Lift me up to the tree, not of my 
 shame, but of my triumph.' ' Behold, we preach 
 Christ crucified,' (saith St. Paul,) 'to the Jews 
 a stumbling-block, to the Greeks foolishness; 
 but to them which are called, Christ the power 
 of God, and the wisdom of God. M Foolish 
 men, that stumble at power, and deride wis- 
 dom! Upbraid us now, ye fond Jews and pa- 
 gans, with a crucified Saviour; it is our glory, it is 
 our happiness, which ye make our reproach. Had 
 not our Saviour died, he could have been no Savi- 
 our for us ; had not our Saviour died, we could not 
 have lived. See now the flag of our dear Re- 
 deemer, this cross, shining eminently in our fore- 
 heads ; and if we had any place more high, more 
 conspicuous, more honourable, there we would 
 advance it. O blessed Jesu, when thou art thus 
 lifted up on thy cross, thou drawest all hearts unto 
 thee : there thou ' leadest captivity captive, and 
 givest gifts unto men.' Ye are deceived, O ye 
 blind Jews and paynims, ye are deceived. It is not 
 a gibbet, it is a throne of honour, to which our Sa- 
 viour is raised; a throne of such honour as to 
 which heaven and earth and hell, do and must 
 bow. The sun hides his awful head, the earth 
 trembles, the rocks rend, the graves open, and all 
 the frame of nature doth homage to their Lord in 
 
 ' 1 Cor. i. 23. 
 
64 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 this secret, but divine pomp of his crucifixion. And 
 while ye think his feet and hands despicably fixed, 
 behold, he is powerfully trampling upon hell and 
 death, and setting up trophies of his most glorious 
 victory, and scattering everlasting crowns and 
 sceptres unto all believers. O Saviour ! I do more 
 adore thee, on the calvary of thy passion, than on 
 the Tabor of thy transfiguration, or the Olivet of 
 thine ascension ; and cannot so feelingly bless 
 thee for — ' Father, glorify me/ as for — ' My God, 
 my God, why hast thou forsaken me : since it is 
 no news for God to be great and glorious ; but, for 
 the eternal and ever-living God to be abased ; to 
 be abased unto death, to the death of the cross, is 
 that which could not but amaze the angels, and 
 confound devils ; and so much more magnifies 
 thine infinite mercy, by how much an infinite per- 
 son would become more ignominious. All ho- 
 sannahs of men, all allelujahs of saints and angels, 
 come short of this majestic humiliation. ' Bless- 
 ing, honour, glory, and power, be unto him that sit- 
 teth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and 
 ever.' ' And ye, beloved, as ever ye hope to make 
 music in heaven, learn to tune your harps to the 
 note and ditty of these heavenly elders. Rejoice in 
 this, and rejoice in nothing but this cross; not in 
 transitory honours, titles, treasures, which will at 
 the last leave you inconsolately sorrowful, but in 
 this cross of Christ ; whereby the world is crucified 
 to you, and you to the world. Oh ! embrace this 
 precious cross ; and say with that blessed martyr, 
 1 My love is crucified/ 8 Those that have searched 
 
 1 Rev. v. 13. * Amor raeus crucifixus est. 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 65 
 
 into the monuments of Jerusalem, write that our 
 Saviour was crucified with his face to the west; 
 which, howsoever spitefully meant of the Jews, 
 (as not allowing him worthy to look on the holy 
 city and temple,) yet, was not without a mystery : 
 'His eyes looked to the Gentiles/ &c. saith the 
 Psalmist. As Christ, therefore, on his cross, looked 
 towards us sinners of the Gentiles, so let us look up 
 to him. Let our eyes be lift up to this brazen 
 serpent, for the cure of the deadly stings of that 
 old serpent. See him, O all ye beholders ! see him 
 hanging upon the tree of shame, of curse, to rescue 
 you from curse and confusion, and to feoff you 
 in everlasting blessedness. See him stretching out 
 his arms to receive and embrace you ; hanging 
 down his head to take view of your misery; opening 
 his precious side to receive you into his bosom; 
 opening his very heart to take you in thither; pour- 
 ing out thence water to wash you, and blood to re- 
 deem you. O, all ye Nazarites that pass by, out 
 of this dead lion seek and find the true honey of 
 unspeakable and endless comfort ! And ye, great 
 masters of Israel, whose lips profess to preserve 
 knowledge, leave all curious and needless disquisi- 
 tions, and with that divine and extatical doctor of 
 the Gentiles, care only to know — to preach — ' Christ 
 and him crucified.' 
 
 By this, though the sum of the gospel, is not the 
 main drift of my text. I may not dwell in it, 
 though I am loath to part with so sweet a medita- 
 tion. From Christ crucified turn your eyes to 
 Paul crucified ; you have read of him dying by the 
 sword ; hear him speak of dying by the cross, and 
 see his moral, spiritual, living crucifixion. 
 
 Our apostle is two men, Saul and Paul — the 
 
 F 
 
fif> ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 old man and the new. In respect of the old man, 
 he is crucified and dead to the law of sin ; so as 
 that sin is dead in him ; neither is it otherwise 
 with every regenerate. Sin hath a body, as well as 
 the man hath, ('Who shall deliver me from this 
 body of death?") a body that hath limbs and 
 parts : 'Mortify your earthly members," saith our 
 apostle. Not the limbs of our human body, which 
 are made of earth ; but the sinful limbs, that are 
 made of 'corruption, fornication, uncleanness, in- 
 ordinate affection,' &c. The head of sin is wicked 
 devices ; the heart of sin, wicked desires ; the hands 
 and feet of sin, wicked executions; the tongue of 
 sin, wicked words ; the eyes of sin, lustful appre- 
 hensions; the forehead of sin, impudent profession 
 of evil ; the back of sin, a strong supportation and 
 maintenance of evil : all this body of sin is not only 
 put to death, but to shame too ; so as it is dead 
 with disgrace: 'I am crucified.' St. Paul speaks 
 not this singularly of himself, but in the person of 
 the renewed : sin doth not, cannot, live a vital and 
 vigorous life in the regenerate. Wherefore, then, 
 say you, was the apostle's complaint, 'Wretched 
 man that I am, who shall deliver me from this 
 body of death ?' 3 Mark, I beseech you, it was the 
 body of sin, not the life of sin ; a body of death, 
 not the life of that body. Or if this body had yet 
 some life, it was such a life as is left in the limbs 
 when the head is struck off; some dying quiverings, 
 rather as the remainders of a life that was, than 
 any act of a life that is. Or, if a further life, such 
 a one as in swounds and fits of epilepsy, which 
 yields breath, but not sense ; or if some kind of 
 
 Rom. vii. 24. 2 Colos. iii, 5. 
 
 3 TaXaiiruipoQ iyu, k r X. 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 67 
 
 sense, yet no motion ; or if it have some kind of 
 motion in us, yet no manner of dominion over us. 
 What power, motion, sense, relics of life, are in a 
 fully crucified man ? Such a one may waft op 
 and down with the wind, but cannot move out of 
 any internal principle. 
 
 Sin and grace cannot more stand together in 
 their strength, than life and death. In remiss 
 degrees all contraries may be lodged together un- 
 der one roof. St. Paul swears that he dies daily, 
 yet he lives; so the best man sins hourly, even 
 whilst he obeys ; but the powerful and overruling 
 sway of sin is incompatible with the truth of re- 
 generation. Every Esau would be carrying away 
 a blessing. Ye shall have strong drinkers, as 
 Isaiah calls them. 1 'Neighing stallions of lust,' as 
 Jeremy calls them; 2 mighty hunters in oppres- 
 sion, as Nimrod ; 3 corrupt talkers; 4 which yet will 
 be challenging as deep a share in grace, as the most 
 conscionable. Alas! how many millions do mi- 
 serably delude themselves with a mere pretence of 
 Christianity, aliter vivunt, aliter loquuntur, 5 as was 
 said of the philosophers. Vain hypocrites! they 
 must know that every Christian is a crucified man. 
 How are they dead to their sins, that walk in their 
 sins ? How are their sins dead in them, in whom 
 they stir, reign, flourish? Who doth not smile to 
 hear of a dead man that walks ? Who derides not 
 the solecism of that actor, that expressed himself 
 fully dead by saying so ? What a mockery is this ! 
 — eyes full of lust, itching ears, scurrilous tongues, 
 
 1 Isaiah, v. 22. 2 Jeremiah, v. 8. 3 Gen. x. 9. 
 
 * Ephesians, iv. 9. 
 5 They are one sort of people in their lives, another in their 
 professions. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 bloody hands, hearts full of wickedness — and yet 
 dead ? Deceive not your souls, dear Christians, if 
 ye love them : this false death is the way to the 
 true, eternal, incomprehensibly woeful death of 
 body and soul. If ye will needs do so, walk on, ye 
 falsely dead, in the ways of your old sins ; but be 
 sure, these paths shall lead you down to the cham- 
 bers of everlasting death. Away with this hateful 
 simulation. God is not mocked ; ye must either 
 kill or die. Kill your sins, or else they will be sure 
 to kill your souls; apprehend, arraign, condemn 
 them; fasten them to the tree of shame; and, if 
 they be not dead already, break their legs and 
 arms, disable them to all offensive actions, as was 
 done to the thieves in the gospel : so shall you say 
 with our blessed apostle, ' I am crucified/ 
 
 Neither is it thus only in matter of notorious 
 crime and gross wickedness ; but thus it must be 
 in the universal carriage of our lives, and the whole 
 habitual frame of our dispositions. In both these, 
 we are, we must be crucified. Be not deceived, 
 my brethren, it is a serious and severe thing to be 
 a Christian. This work is not frolicsome, jovial, 
 plausible : there is a certain thing called true mor- 
 tification, required to this business ; and whoever 
 heard but there was pain in death ? but, among all 
 deaths, in crucifying ? What a torture must there 
 needs be in this act of violence ! What a disten- 
 tion of the body, (whose weight is rack enough to 
 itself!) What straining of the joints! What 
 nailing of hands and feet ! Never make account 
 to be Christians without the hard tasks of peni- 
 tence. It will cost you tears, sighs, watchings, 
 self-restraints, self-strugglings, self-denials : this 
 word is not more harsh than true. Ye delicate 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 69 
 
 hypocrites, what do you talk of Christian profes- 
 sion, when ye will not abate a dish from your 
 table, nor spare an hour's sleep from your eyes, 
 nor cast off an offensive rag from your backs, for 
 your God ? In vain shall the vassals of appe- 
 tite challenge to be the servants of God. Were 
 it, that the kingdom of God did consist in eating 
 and drinking, in pampering and surfeits, in cham- 
 bering and wantonness, in prancing and vanity, in 
 talk and ostentation, O God, how rich shouldst 
 thou be of subjects, of saints ! But, if it require 
 abstinence, humiliation, contrition of heart, subju- 
 gation of our flesh, renunciation of our wills, seri- 
 ous impositions of laboursome devotions, O Lord, 
 what is become of true Christianity? Where shall 
 we seek for a crucified man ? Look to our tables, 
 there ye shall find excess and riot : look to our 
 backs, there ye shall find proud disguises : look to 
 our conversations, there ye shall find scurrilous 
 and obscene jollity. This liberty, yea, this licen- 
 tiousness, is that which opens the mouths of our ad- 
 versaries to the censure of our real impiety. That 
 slander which Julian could cast upon Constantine, 
 that rpv(f>ij led him to aaioria, delicacy to intemper- 
 ance, the very same do they cast upon us: they 
 tell us of their strict Lents, frequent fastings, 
 canonical hours, sharp penances; of their bashful 
 shrifts, their painful scourgings, their solitary cells, 
 their woolward and barefoot walks, their hard and 
 tedious pilgrimages; whilst we, they say, deny 
 nothing to back or belly, fare full, lie soft, sit warm, 
 and make a wanton of the flesh, while we profess to 
 tend the spirit. Brethren, hear a little the words of 
 exhortation : the brags of their penal will-worship 
 shall no whit move us. All this is blown away with 
 
70 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 a Quis requisivit, "Who hath required it ?>' Baal's 
 priests did more than they, yet were never the holier. 
 But for ourselves, in the fear of God, see that we do 
 not justify their crimination ; while they are in one 
 extreme, placing all religion in the outside, in 
 ' touch not, taste not, handle not;' let us not be in 
 the other, not regarding the external acts of due 
 humiliation. It is true that it is more easy to 
 afflict the body, than to humble the soul. A dram 
 of remorse is more than an ounce of pain. O God, 
 if whippings, and hair-cloths, and watchings, 
 would satisfy thy displeasure, who would not 
 sacrifice the blood of this vassal, his body, to ex- 
 piate the sin of his soul ? Who would not scrub 
 his skin, to ease his conscience ? Who would not 
 hold his eyes open, to avoid an eternal unrest and 
 torment ? But such sacrifices and oblations, O God, 
 thou desirestnot : • The sacrifice of God is a broken 
 spirit : a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou 
 wilt not despise/ Yet it is as true, that it is more 
 easy to counterfeit mortification of spirit, than hu- 
 miliation of body : there is pain in the one, none in 
 the other. He that cares not, therefore, to pull 
 down his body, will much less care to bumble his 
 soul ; and he that spares not to act meet and due 
 penalties upon the flesh, gives more colour of the 
 soul's humiliation. Dear Christians, it is not for 
 us to stand upon niggardly terms with our Maker , 
 he will have both ; he that made both will have 
 us crucified in both. The old man doth not lie in 
 a limb or faculty, but is diffused through the whole 
 extent of body and soul, and must be crucified in 
 all that it is ; v7ru)Tru£to saith the chosen vessel, ' I 
 beat down my body ; ' my body as well as my 
 spirit. Lent is wont to be a penitential time : if 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 71 
 
 ye have soundly and effectually shriven yourselves 
 to your God, let me enjoin you a wholesome and 
 saving penance for the whole year, for your whole 
 life. Ye must curb your appetites, ye must fast, 
 ye must stint yourselves to your painful devotions ; 
 ye must give peremptory denials to your own 
 wills ; ye must put your knife to your throat in 
 Solomon's sense. O remember the quarrel against 
 damned Dives : he fared sumptuously every day ; 
 he made neither Lents nor embers; aUv lopr^, 
 as he said, every day was gaudy and festival, in 
 rich suits, in dainty morsels, and full draughts, 
 intus mulso, forts oho, " wine within, oil with- 
 out;" now all the world for a drop, and it is too 
 little. 'Woe unto you that are full,' saith our 
 Saviour; but even nature itself could abominate, 
 bis de die saturum, "one that is full twice a day." 
 One of the sins of our Sodom is fullness of bread. 
 What is the remedy ? It is an old word, " that 
 hunger cures ^the diseases of gluttony." O that 
 my words could prevail so far with you, beloved 
 Christians, as to bring austere abstinence and sober 
 moderation into fashion. The court and city have 
 led the way to excess ; your example shall pre- 
 scribe, yea, administer the remedy. The heathen 
 man could say, " He is not worthy of the name of a 
 man that would be a whole day in pleasure;" 1 
 — what, and we always ? • In fasting often,' saith 
 St. Paul ; what, and we never ? ' I fast twice a 
 week,' saith the Pharisee; and we Christians, when? 
 I speak not of Popish mock-fasts, in change, not in 
 forbearance ; in change of coarser cates of the land, 
 for the curious dainties of the water ; of the flesh 
 
 ! Cic. de fin. 
 
72 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 of beasts, for the flesh of fish ; of untoothsome 
 morsels for sorbiiiuncula delicate, as Jerome calls 
 them : let me never feast, if this be fasting. I speak 
 of a true, and serious maceration of our bodies, by 
 an absolute refraining from sustenance ; which 
 howsoever in itself it be not an act pleasing unto 
 God, (for well may I invert St. Paul, 'neither if 
 we eat not, are we the better ; neither if we eat, are 
 we the worse ; M ) yet in the effect it is. The plough 
 bears no corn, but it makes way for it; it opens 
 the soil, it tears up the briers, and turns up the 
 furrows. Thus doth holy abstinence : it chastises 
 the flesh, it lightens the spirit, it disheartens our 
 vicious dispositions, it quickens our devotion. O 
 then, as we care to avert the heavy judgments of God 
 from ourselves, as we desire to hand down the gospel 
 with peace to our posterity, let each man humble 
 himself; let each man rend his heart, with sorrow 
 for his sins ; let every man ransack his own soul 
 and life, and offer an holy violence to all those 
 sinful corruptions which have stirred up the God 
 of heaven against us ; and never leave till in truth 
 of heart he can say, with our blessed apostle, ' I am 
 crucified.' 
 
 Ye have seen Christ crucified, St. Paul cruci- 
 fied ; see now both crucified together : ' I am cruci- 
 fied with Christ.' It is but a cold word this, ' I 
 am crucified ;' it is the company that quickens it : 
 He that is the life, gives it life, and makes both the 
 word and act glorious :'Iam crucified with Christ.' 
 
 Alas! there is many a one crucified, but not 
 with Christ. The covetous, the ambitious man, is 
 self-crucified ; he plats a crown of thorny cares for 
 
 1 1 Cor. viii. 8. 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 73 
 
 his own head ; he pierces his hands and feet with 
 toilsome, and painful undertakings ; he drencheth 
 himself with the vinegar and gall of discontent- 
 ments ; he gores his side, and wounds his heart 
 with inward vexations : thus the man is crucified ; 
 but with the world, not with Christ. The envious 
 man is crucified by his own thoughts ; he needs no 
 other gibbet than another man's prosperity; be- 
 cause another's person or counsel is preferred to his, 
 he rushes upon his own destruction. This man is 
 crucified, but it is Achitophel's cross, not Christ's. 
 
 The desperate man is crucified with his own 
 distrust; he pierceth his own heart with a deep, 
 irremediable, unmitigable, killing sorrow ; he pays 
 his wrong to God's justice with a greater wrong to 
 his mercy, and leaps out of an inward hell of re- 
 morse to the bottomless pit of damnation. This 
 man is crucified ; but this is Judas's cross, not 
 Christ's. 
 
 The superstitious man is professedly mortified. 
 The answer of that hermit in the story is famous. 
 " Why dost thou destroy thy body ?" " Because it 
 would destroy me." He useth his body, therefore, 
 not as a servant, but a slave ; not as a slave, but 
 an enemy : he lies upon thorns, with the Pharisee ; 
 little-ease is his lodging, with Simeon the Ancho- 
 rite ; the stone is his pillow, with Jacob; tears 
 his food, with exiled David ; he lanceth his flesh 
 with the Baalites ; he digs his grave with his nails ; 
 his meals are hunger, his breathings sighs, his linen 
 hair-cloth, lined and laced with cords and wires ; 
 lastly, he is his own willing tormentor, and hopes 
 to merit heaven by self-murder. This man is cru- 
 cified, but not with Christ. 
 
74 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 The felon, the traitor, is justly crucified ; the 
 vengeance of the law will not let him live. The 
 Jesuitical incendiary, that cares.only to warm him- 
 self by the fires of states and kingdoms, cries out 
 of his sufferings : — the world is too little for the 
 noise of our cruelty, and their patience, whilst it 
 judgeth of our proceedings by our laws, not by 
 our executions. But if they did surfer what they 
 falsely pretend, they might be crucified, but not 
 with Christ; they should bleed for sedition, not 
 conscience. They may steal the name of Jesus, 
 they shall not have his society : this is not Christ's 
 cross, it is the cross of Barabbas, or the two male- 
 factors {tQv (TVTao-iaTwr 1 ). All these, and many 
 more, are crucified, but not, as St. Paul was here, 
 ' with Christ.' , How must we be crucified with 
 Christ ? in partnership, in person : in partnership 
 of the suffering — every particularity of Christ's cru- 
 cifixion is reacted in us. Christ is the model, we 
 the metal : the metal takes such form as the model 
 gives it; so are we spread upon the cross of Christ, 
 in an answerable extension of all parts, to die 
 with him, as the prophet was upon the dead child, to 
 revive him. Superstitious men talk of the impres- 
 sion of our Saviour's wounds in their idol, St. 
 Francis. This is nothing new ; St. Paul, and 
 every believing Christian hath both the lashes, and 
 wounds, and transfixions of his Jesus wrought 
 upon him. The crown of thorns pierces his head, 
 when his sinful conceits are mortified ; his lips are 
 drenched with gall and vinegar, when sharp and 
 severe restraints are given to his tongue ; his hand? 
 
 1 Mark xv. 7 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 75 
 
 and feet are nailed, when he is by the power of 
 God's Spirit disabled to the wonted courses of sin ; 
 his body is stripped, when all colour and pretences 
 are taken away from him ; shortly, his heart is 
 pierced, when the life-blood of his formerly reign- 
 ing corruptions are let out. He is no true Chris- 
 tian that is not thus crucified with Christ. 
 
 Woe is me ! how many fashionable ones are not 
 so much as pained with their sins : it is no trouble 
 to them to blaspheme, oppress, debauch. Yea, 
 rather it is a death to them to think of parting 
 with their dear corruptions. The world hath be- 
 witched their love. That which Erasmus saith of 
 Paris, that after a man hath acquainted himself 
 with the odious scent of it, hospitibus magis ac 
 magis adlubescit, 'it grows into his liking more 
 and more,' is too true of the world, and sensual 
 minds : alas ! they rather crucify Christ again, than 
 are crucified with Christ. Woe to them that ever 
 they were ; for being not dead with Christ, they 
 are not dead in Christ ; and being not dead in 
 Christ, they cannot but die eternally in themselves; 
 ' For the wages of sin is death : ' death in their 
 person, if not in their surety. Beloved, let us not 
 think it safe for us to rest in this miserable and 
 deadly condition. As ye love your souls, give no 
 sleep to your eyes, nor peace to your hearts, till ye 
 find the sensible effects of the death and passion 
 of Christ your Saviour within you, mortifying all 
 your corrupt affections, and sinful actions, that ye 
 may truly say with St. Paul, • I am crucified with 
 Christ' 
 
 Six several times do we find that Christ shed 
 blood : in his circumcision — in his agony — in his 
 crowning — in his scourging — in his affixion — in his 
 
76 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 transfixion. The instrument of the first was the 
 knife; of the second, vehemence of passion ; of the 
 third, the thorns ; of the fourth, the whips ; of the 
 fifth, the nails; of the last, the spear. In all these 
 we are, we must be, partners with our Saviour. 
 
 In his circumcision, when we draw blood of our- 
 selves by cutting off the foreskin of our filthy (if 
 pleasing) corruptions. 1 
 
 Tn his agony, when we are deeply affected with 
 the sense of God's displeasure for sin, and terrified 
 with the frowns of an angry Father. 
 
 In his crowning with thorns, when we smart 
 and bleed with reproaches for the name of Christ ; 
 when that which the world counts honour is pain 
 to us, for his sake ; when our guilty thoughts 
 punish us, and wound our restless heads, with the 
 sad remembrance of our sins. 
 
 In his scourging, when we tame our wanton and 
 rebellious flesh, with wise rigour and holy severity. 
 
 In his affixion, when all the powers of our souls 
 and parts of our body are strictly hampered, and 
 unremovably fastened upon the royal command- 
 ments of our Maker and Redeemer. 
 
 In his transfixion, when our hearts are wounded 
 with divine love, (with the spouse in the Canticles,) 
 or our consciences with deep sorrow. 
 
 In all these we bleed with Christ, and all these 
 (save the first only) belong to his crucifying. 
 Surely, as it was in the old law, x w P*£ alfiarEicxy- 
 olag, without blood shed there was no remission ; s 
 so it is still, and ever, in the new. If Christ had 
 not thus bled for us, there had been no remission ; 
 if we do not thus bleed with Christ, there is for us 
 no remission. 
 
 Col. ii. 11. * Heb. ix. 22. 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 77 
 
 There is no benefit, where is no partnership. 
 If Christ therefore bled with his agony, with his 
 thorns, with his whips, with his nails, with his 
 spear, in so many thousand passages, as tradition 
 is bold to define ; and we never bleed, either with 
 the agony of our sorrow for sin, or the thorns of 
 holy cares for displeasure, or the scourges of severe 
 Christian rigour, or the nails of holy constraint, or 
 the spear of deep remorse, how do we, how can 
 we for shame, say, we are ' crucified with Christ ? ' 
 
 St. Austin, in his epistle, or book rather, to 
 Honoratus, gives us all the dimensions of the cross 
 of Christ. 1 The latitude he makes in the trans- 
 verse ; this (saith he) pertains to good works, be- 
 cause on this his hands were stretched. The 
 length was from the ground to the transverse, this 
 is attributed to his longanimity, and persistance ; 
 for on that his body was stayed, and fixed. The 
 height was in the head of the cross, above the 
 transverse; signifying the expectation of supernal 
 things. The depth of it was in that part, which 
 was pitched below within the earth, importing the 
 profoundness of his free grace, which is the ground 
 of all his beneficence. In all these must we 
 have our part with Christ: in the transverse of 
 his cross, by the ready extension of our hands 
 to all good works of piety, justice, charity. In 
 the arrectary, or beam of his cross, by conti- 
 nuance, and uninterupted perseverance in good. 
 In the head of his cross, by a high elevated hope, 
 and looking for of glory. In the foot of his cross, 
 by a lively and firm faith, fastening our souls upon 
 the affiance of his free grace and mercy. And 
 
 1 Epist 129, ad Honoratum. 
 
78 ON MORTIFICATION. 
 
 thus shall we be crucified with Christ, upon his 
 own cross. 
 
 Yet, lastly, we must go further than this, from 
 his cross to his person. 
 
 So did St. Paul, and every believer, die with 
 Christ, that he died in Christ; for, as in the first 
 Adam we all Jived, and sinned; so in the second, 
 all believers died, that they might live. 
 
 The first Adam brought in deatfi to all mankind; 
 but, at last, actually died for- none but himself. 
 The second Adam died for mankind, and brought 
 life to all believers. Seest thou thy Saviour, there r 
 fore, hanging upon the cross ? all mankind hangs 
 there with him, as a knight or burgess of parlia- 
 ment voices his whole borough, or country. What 
 speak I of this? The members take the same 
 lot with the head. Every believer is a limb of 
 that body ; how can he, therefore, but die with him, 
 and in him ? That real union, then, which is be- 
 twixt Christ and us, makes the cross and passion 
 of Christ ours ; so as the thorns pierced our heads, 
 the scourges blooded our backs, the nails wounded 
 our hands and feet, and the spear gored our sides 
 and hearts ; by virtue whereof, we receive justifi- 
 cation from our sins, and true mortification of our 
 corruptions. Every believer, therefore, is dead 
 already for his sins, in his Saviour; he needs not 
 fear that he shall die again. God is too just to 
 punish twice for one fault; to recover the sum 
 both of the surety and principal. All the score oi 
 our arearages is fully struck off, by the infinite satis- 
 faction of our blessed Redeemer. Comfort thyself, 
 therefore, thou penitent and faithful soul, in the 
 confidence of thy safety. Thou shalt not die, but 
 live, since thou art already crucified with thy 
 
BY BISHOP HALL. 79 
 
 Saviour. He died for thee, thou diedst in him. 
 ' Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's 
 elect ? It is God that justifies ! Who shall con- 
 demn ? It is Christ that died ; yea, rather, that is 
 risen again, and lives gloriously at the right hand 
 of God; making intercession for us.' To thee, 
 O blessed Jesu, together with thy coeternal Father, 
 and Holy Spirit, three persons in one infinite, and 
 incomprehensible Deity, be all praise, honour, and 
 glory, now and for ever. — Amen. 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW 
 FOR SIN. 
 
 BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 
 
 [John Tillotson was born in 1630. He was elevated to the Archiepiscoptl i 
 of Canterbury in 1691 ; and died, 1694.] 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 Psalm xxxviii. 18. 
 
 / will declare mine iniquity, and be sorry for my sin. 
 
 In this Psalm David does earnestly beg mercy and 
 forgiveness of God, and in order to the obtaining 
 of it, he declares both his sins and his repentance 
 for them, in these words, which contain in them 
 two of the necessary ingredients, or at least con- 
 comitants of a true repentance, viz. confession of 
 sin, and sorrow for it. 
 
 I shall speak something of the first of these, viz. 
 confession of sin : but the second, viz. sorrow for 
 sin, shall be the main subject of my discourse. 
 
 I. Confession of sin : ' T will declare mine ini- 
 quity,' or, as it is in the old translation, ' I will 
 confess my wickedness.' Of which I shall speak 
 under these three heads: — 
 
 I. What confession of sin is. 
 
 II. How far it is necessary. 
 
 III. What are the reasons and grounds of this 
 necessity. 
 
 I. What confession of sin is. It is a declaration 
 or acknowledgment of some moral evil or fault to 
 another, which we are conscious to ourselves we 
 
84 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 have been guilty of. And this acknowledgment 
 may be made by us, either to God or man. The 
 Scripture mentions both. Confession of our sins 
 to God is very frequently mentioned in Scripture, 
 as the first and necessary part of repentance ; and 
 sometimes, and in some cases, confession to men is 
 not only recommended, but enjoined. 
 
 II. How far confession of our sins is necessary. 
 That it is necessary to confess our sins to God, the 
 Scripture plainly declares, and is I think a matter 
 out of all dispute. For it is a necessary part of re- 
 pentance, that we should confess our sins to God, 
 with a due sense of the evil of them ; and there- 
 fore the Scripture maketh this a necessary qualifi- 
 cation, and condition of pardon and forgiveness. 
 1 Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sins, shall 
 have mercy.' ' ' If we confess our sins, he is faith- 
 ful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse 
 us from all unrighteousness;' 8 implying that if 
 we do not confess our sins to God, the guilt of 
 them will still remain; to God I say, for of con- 
 fession to him St. John plainly speaks, when he 
 says, ■ He is faithful and just.' Who ? God, surely ; 
 who though he be not named before, yet is neces- 
 sarily understood in the words before : ■ If we con- 
 fess our sins,' i. e. to God, ' he is faithful and 
 just.' 
 
 A general confession of our sins is absolutely 
 necessary ; and in some cases a particular acknow- 
 ledgment of them, and repentance for them, espe- 
 cially if the sins have been great and deliberate 
 and presumptuous ; in this case a particular con- 
 fession of them, and repentance for them, is neces- 
 
 1 Prov. xxviii. 13. a 1 John, i. 9. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 80 
 
 sary, so far as we can particularly recollect them, 
 and call them to remembrance : whereas for sins of 
 ignorance and infirmity, of surprise and daily in- 
 cursion, for lesser omissions, and the defects and 
 imperfections of our best actions and services, we 
 have all the reason that can be to believe, that God 
 will accept of a general confession of them, and re- 
 pentance for them. And if any man ask me, 
 where I find this distinction in Scripture, between 
 a general and particular repentance ; I answer, that 
 it is not necessary it should be any where expressed 
 in Scripture, being so clearly founded in the nature 
 and reason of the thing ; because in many cases it is 
 not possible that we should have a particular know- 
 ledge and remembrance of all our particular sins ; 
 as is plain in sins of ignorance, since our very call- 
 ing them by that name, does necessarily suppose 
 that we do not know them. It is impossible we 
 should remember those sins afterwards, which we 
 did not know when they were committed : and 
 therefore either a general repentance for these and 
 the other sins I mentioned of the like nature, must 
 be sufficient, in order to the pardon of them ; or we 
 must say, that they are unpardonable, which would 
 be very unreasonable, because this would be to 
 make lesser sins more unpardonable than those 
 which are far greater. 
 
 And yet, though this difference between a gene- 
 ral and particular repentance be no where ex- 
 pressly mentioned in Scripture, there does not 
 want foundation for it there. • Who can under- 
 stand his errors ? Cleanse thou me from secret 
 sins;' 1 (i.e.) such as we do not discern and take 
 notice of, when they are committed. And yet Da 
 
 1 Psalm xix. 12. 
 
86 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 vid supposeth, that upon a general acknowledg- 
 ment of them, and repentance for them, we may 
 be cleansed from them, though we cannot make a 
 particular acknowledgment of them, and exercise 
 a particnlar repentance for them, because they are 
 secret, and we do not particularly understand what 
 they are. 
 
 As for our confessing our sins to men, both Scrip- 
 ture and reason do in some cases recommend and 
 enjoin it. As, 
 
 1. In order to the obtaining of the prayers of 
 good men for us. * Confess your sins one to ano- 
 ther;' he said before, 'the prayer of faith shall 
 save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up.' 1 
 This in all probability is meant of the miraculous 
 power of prayer, which St. Chrysostom reckons 
 among the miraculous gifts of the Spirit, bestowed 
 upon Christians in the first ages o£ the church. 
 And this is very much countenanced and confirmed 
 by what presently follows after this command ol 
 
 confessing our sins one to another, and prating 
 one for another/ and given as the reason of it ; ' for 
 the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man 
 availeth much.' The original is hirjaig kvepys^iivri, 
 ' the inspired prayer,' which in the verse before is* 
 called • the prayer of faith,' meaning that miracu- 
 lous faith, in the power whereof Christians did ob- 
 tain of God whatever they were inspired to ask of 
 him ; according to our Saviour's promise in the 
 gospel, concerning the efficacy of the prayers of 
 Christians, which we find mentioned among the 
 other miraculous powers, which were to be conferred 
 upon them by the coming of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 2. Confession of our sins to men is likewise 
 
 1 James, v. 16. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 87 
 
 reasonable, in order to the ease and satisfaction ot 
 our minds, and our being directed in our duty ior 
 the future. In this case common reason and pru- 
 dence, without any precept of Scripture, will di- 
 rect men to have recourse to this remedy, viz. to 
 discover and lay open our disease to some skilful 
 spiritual physician, to some faithful friend or pru- 
 dent guide, in order to spiritual advice and direc- 
 tion, for the peace and satisfaction of our minds. 
 And then, 
 
 3. In case our sins have been public and scan- 
 dalous, both reason and the practice of the Chris- 
 tian church do require, that when men have pub- 
 licly offended, they should give public satisfaction, 
 and open testimony of their repentance. 
 
 But as for private and auricular confession of 
 our sins to a priest in all cases, and as of absolute 
 necessity to our obtaining pardon and forgiveness 
 from God, as the church of Rome teacheth, this is 
 neither necessary by divine precept, nor by any 
 constitution and practice of the ancient Christian 
 church. 
 
 Not to mention the bad consequences of this 
 practice, and the impious and dangerous use which 
 hath been made of this seal of confession, for the 
 concealing and carrying on of the most wicked 
 and barbarous designs ; and the debauching of the 
 penitents, by drawing them into the commission of 
 the same and greater sins, than those which they 
 confessed ; which the more devout persons of that 
 church have frequently complained of. 
 
 I proceed now to show briefly, in the third place, 
 the grounds and reasons of the necessity of con- 
 fessing our sins to God; and I shall but just 
 mention them. 
 
88 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 1 . From the precept and command of God ; for 
 which I have already produced clear proof of 
 Scripture. 
 
 2. From the nature of the thing,; because, with- 
 out this, there can be no repentance towards God. 
 He that will not so much as own the faults which 
 he hath been guilty of, can never repent of them. 
 If we will not confess our sins to God, we are never 
 like to be sorry for them. Thus much for the first 
 thing in the text, the confession of our sins. 
 
 I proceed now to the second ingredient of re- 
 pentance mentioned in the text, which is sorrow 
 for sin : ' I will declare mine iniquity, and be sorry 
 for my sin.' In the handling of this argument, I 
 shall, 
 
 I. Consider the nature of this passion of sorrow. 
 
 II. The reason and grounds of our sorrow for 
 sin. 
 
 III. The measure and degrees of it. 
 
 IV. How far the outward expression of our in- 
 ward grief by tears is necessary to a true repent- 
 ance. " 
 
 I. For the nature of this passion. Sorrow is a 
 trouble or disturbance of mind, occasioned by some- 
 thing that is evil, done or suffered by us, or which 
 we are in danger of suffering, that tends greatly to 
 our damage or mischief. So that to be sorry for a 
 thing, is nothing else but to be sensibly affected 
 with the consideration of the evil of it, and of the 
 mischief and inconvenience which is like to re- 
 dound to us from it : which, if it be a moral evil, 
 such as sin is, to be sorry for it, is to be troubled 
 that we have done it, and to wish with all our 
 hearts that we had been wiser, and had done other- 
 wise; and if this sorrow be true.and real, if it abide 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 89 
 
 and stay upon us, it will produce a firm purpose 
 and resolution in us, not to do the like for the 
 future. 
 
 It is true indeed, that we are said to be sorry for 
 the death and loss of friends ; but this is rather the 
 effect of natural affection than of our reason, which 
 always endeavours to check and moderate our grief 
 for that which we cannot help, and labours by all 
 means to turn our sorrow into patience; and we 
 are said likewise to grieve for the miseries and suf- 
 ferings of others ; but this is not so properly sorrow 
 as pity and compassion. Sorrow rather respects 
 ourselves, and our own doings and sufferings. 
 
 TI. I proceed in the second place'to inquire into 
 the reasons and grounds of our sorrow for sin ; 
 and they, as I have already hinted, are these 
 two, the intrinsical, or the consequent evil of 
 sin ; either the evil of sin in itself, or the mis- 
 chiefs or inconveniences which it will bring upon 
 us. For every one that is sorry for any fault he 
 is guilty of, is so upon one of these two accounts; 
 either upon the score of ingenuousness or of in- 
 terest; either because he hath done a thing which 
 is unworthy in itself, or because he hath done 
 something which may prove prejudicial to himself; 
 either out of a principle of love and gratitude to 
 God, or from a principle of self-love. And though 
 the former of these be the better, the more generous 
 principle of sorrow ; yet the latter is usually the 
 first ; because it is the more sensible, and toucheth 
 us more nearly : for sin is a base and ill-natured 
 thing, and renders a man not so apt to, be affected 
 with the injuries he hath*offered to God, as with the 
 mischief which is likely to fall upon himself. And 
 therefore, I will begin with the latter, because it is 
 
90 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 usually the more sensible cause of our trouble and 
 sorrow for sin. 
 
 1. The great mischief and inconvenience that sin 
 is like to bring upon us. When a man is thoroughly 
 convinced of the danger into which his sins have 
 brought him ; that they have made him a child of 
 wrath, and a son of perdition, that he is thereby 
 fallen under the heavy displeasure of Almighty 
 God, and liable to all those dreadful curses which 
 are .written in his book, that ruin and destruction 
 hang over him, and that nothing keeps him from 
 eternal and intolerable torments, but the patience 
 and long-suffering of God, which he does not know 
 how soon it may cease to interpose between him 
 and the wrath of God > and let him fall into that 
 endless and" insupportable misery, which is the just 
 portion and desert of his sins ; — he that lays to heart 
 the sad estate and condition into which he hath 
 brought himself by sin, and the mischiefs which 
 attend him every moment of his continuance in 
 that state, and how near they are to him, and that 
 there is but a step between him and death, and 
 hardly another between that and hell ; — he cannot 
 surely, but be very sorry for what he hath done, 
 and be highly displeased and offended with himself, 
 that he should be the author of his own ruin, and 
 have contributed as much as in him lies to his ever- 
 lasting undoing. 
 
 2. Another and better principle of sorrow for sin 
 is ingenuousness ; because we are sensible that we 
 have carried ourselves very unworthily towards God, 
 and have been injurious to him who hath laid all 
 possible obligations upon us. For he hath made 
 us, and hath given us our beings, and hath charged 
 his watchful providence with the continual care of 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 91 
 
 us; his bounty hath ministered to the necessities 
 and comforts of our life ; all the blessings that we 
 enjoy are the effects of his mere love and goodness, 
 without any hope of requital, or expectation of any 
 other return from us, than of love, of gratitude, 
 and obedience ; which yet are of no advantage to' 
 him, but very beneficial and comfortable to our- 
 selves : for he does not expect duty and obedience 
 from us, with any regard of benefit to himself, but 
 for our sakes, and in order to our own happiness. 
 
 Nay, his kindness did not stop here, but after we 
 had abused him by our repeated provocations, yet 
 he still continued his care of us ; and when we 
 had further provoked him to withdraw his love, 
 and to call in his abused goodness, and had done 
 what lay in us to make ourselves miserable, he 
 would not suffer us to be undone, but found out a 
 ransom for us, and hath contrived a way for the 
 pardon of all our offences, and to reconcile us to 
 himself, and to restore us to happiness, by the most 
 stupendous and amazing condescension of love and 
 goodness that ever was, even by giving his only 
 Son to die for us. 
 
 And can we reflect upon all this, and not be 
 sorry and grieved at our very hearts, that we should 
 be so evil to him, who hath been so good to us ; that 
 we should be so undutiful to so loving a Father, so 
 unkind to so faithful and constant a friend, so un- 
 grateful and unworthy to so mighty a benefactor ? 
 If any thing will melt us into tears, surely this 
 will do it, to consider that we have sinned against 
 him who made us, and continually preserves us ; 
 and after all our unkindness to him, did still 
 retain so great a love for us, as to redeem us from 
 hell and destruction, by the death and suffering of 
 
92 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 his Son ; and notwithstanding all our offences does 
 still offer us pardon and peace, life and happiness. 
 Such considerations as these, seriously laid to heart, 
 should one would think break the hardest heart, 
 and make tears to gush even out of a rock. 
 x III. Now I, in the third place, proceed to con- 
 sider the measure and degree of our sorrow for 
 sin. That it admits of degrees which ought to 
 bear some proportion to the heinousness of our 
 sin$, and the several aggravations of them, and 
 the time of our continuance in them, is out of 
 all dispute : for, though the least sin be a just 
 cause of the deepest sorrow, yet, because our 
 greatest grief can never bear a due proportion to 
 the vast and infinite evil of sin, God is pleased to 
 require and accept such measures of sorrow, as do 
 not bear an exact correspondence to the malignity 
 of sin, provided they be according to the capacity 
 of our nature, and in some sort proportioned to 
 the degree and aggravations of our sins: i. e. 
 though the highest degree of our sorrow doth neces- 
 sarily fall below the evil of the least sin, yet God 
 requires that we should be more deeply affected 
 with some sins than others. 
 
 But what is the lowest degree which God re- 
 quires in a true penitent, and will accept, as it is 
 impossible for me tell, so it is unprofitable for any 
 body to know ; for no man can reasonably make 
 this inquiry with any other design, than that he 
 may learn how he may come off with God upon 
 the cheapest and easiest terms. Now, there cannot 
 be a worse sign, that a man is not truly sensible of 
 the great evil of sin, than this, that he desires to be 
 troubled for it as little as may be, and no longer 
 than needs must. And none surely are more un 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 93 
 
 likely to find acceptance with God, than those who 
 deal so nearly, and endeavour to drive so hard a 
 bargain with him. 
 
 And therefore I shall only say this in general, 
 concerning the degrees of our sorrow for sin ; that 
 sin being so great an evil in itself, and of so perni- 
 cious a consequence to us, it cannot be too much 
 lamented and grieved for by us ; and the more and 
 greater our sins have been, and the longer we have 
 continued and lived in them, they call for so much 
 the greater sorrow, and deeper humiliation from 
 us : for the reasoning of our Saviour concerning 
 Mary Magdalen, ' She loved much, because much 
 was forgiven her,' is proportionably true in this 
 case : those who have sinned much, should sorrow 
 the more. 
 
 And then we must take this caution along with 
 us, that if we would judge aright of the truth of our 
 sorrow for sin, we must not measure it so much by 
 the degrees of sensible trouble and affliction, as by 
 the rational effects of it, which are hatred of sin, 
 and a fixed purpose and resolution against it for 
 the future : for he is most truly sorry for his mis- 
 carriage, who looks upon what he hath done amiss 
 with abhorrence and detestation of the thing, and 
 wisheth he had not done it, and censures himself 
 severely for it, and thereupon resolves not to do 
 the like again. And this is the character which 
 St. Paul gives of a godly sorrow, that ' it worketh 
 repentance,' 1 fxeravoiav; it produceth a real change 
 in our minds, and makes us to alter our purpose 
 and resolution : and though such a person may 
 not be so passionately and sensibly afflicted for 
 
 » 2 Cor. vii. 10. 
 
94 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN, 
 
 sin, yet it appears by the effect, that he hath a 
 deeper and more rational resentment of the evil of 
 it, than that man who is sad, and melancholy, and 
 drooping, for never so long a time, and after all, 
 returns to his former sinful course ; the degree of 
 his sorrow may appear greater, but the effect of it 
 is really less. 
 
 IV. As for the outward expressions of our grief 
 and sorrow. The usual sign and outward expres- 
 sion of sorrow is tears; but these being not the 
 substance of our duty, but an external testimony 
 of it, which some tempers are more unapt to than 
 others; we are much less to judge of the truth 01 
 our sorrow for sin by these, than by our inward 
 sensible trouble and affliction of spirit. Some 
 persons are of a more tender and melting disposi- 
 tion, and can command their tears upon a little 
 occasion, and upon very short warning; and such 
 persons that can weep for every thing else that 
 troubles them, have much more reason to suspect 
 the truth of their sorrow for sin, if this outward ex- 
 pression of it be wanting. And we find in Scrip- 
 ture, that the sorrow of true penitents does very fre- 
 quently discover itself by this outward sign of it. 
 Thus when Ezra and the people made confes- 
 sion of their sins to God, it is said, that * they 
 wept very sore.' 1 Peter, when he reflected upon 
 that great sin of denying his Master, it is said, 
 'went forth and wept bitterly,' David also was 
 abundant in this expression of his grief. In the 
 book of Psalms he speaks frequently of his sighs 
 and groans, and of ' watering his couch with his 
 tears : ' yea, so sensibly was he affected with the 
 
 1 Ezra, x. 
 

 BY 4RCHBISH0P TILLOTSON. 95 
 
 evil of sin, that he could shed tears plentifully for 
 the sins of others : \ Rivers of waters run down 
 mine eyes, because men keep not thy law.' \ In 
 like manner Jeremiah tells us, that * his soul did 
 weep in secret places,' for the pride and obstinacy 
 of the Jews; that ' his eye did weep sore, and run 
 down with tears.'* And so likewise St. Paul : 
 ' There are many that walk, of whom I have told 
 you often, and now tell you even weeping, that 
 they are enemies to the cross of Christ.' 3 And 
 there seems to be this natural reason for it, that all 
 great and permanent impressions upon the mind, 
 all deep inward resentments, have usually a pro- 
 portionable effect upon the body, and the inferior 
 faculties. 
 
 But though this happen very frequently, yet it 
 is not so constant and certain. For all men have 
 not the same tenderness of spirit, nor are equally 
 prone to tears ; nay, though a man can weep upon 
 natural accounts, as upon the loss of a child, or 
 near relation, or an intimate friend, or when he 
 lies under a sharp bodily pain, yet a man may 
 truly repent, though he cannot express his sorrow 
 for sin the same way, provided he give testimony 
 of it by more real effects : and therefore the rule, 
 which is commonly given by casuists in this case, 
 seems to be more ensnaring than true and useful j 
 namely, " That that man that can shed tears upon 
 account of any evil, less than that of sin, (as cer- 
 tainly all natural evils are,) ought to question the 
 truth of his repentance for any sin that he hath 
 committed, if he cannot shed tears for it. This I 
 
 1 Psalm cxix. 13G. a Jer. xiii. 17. 
 
 3 Philip, iii. 18, 19. 
 
96 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 • 
 
 think is not true ; because there is scarce any man, 
 of so hard and unrelenting a spirit, but the loss of 
 a kind father, or a dear child, or other near relation, 
 will force tears from him : and yet such a man, if 
 it were to save his soul, may not be able at some 
 times to shed a tear for his sins. And the reason 
 is obvious ; because tears do proceed from a sensi- 
 tive trouble, and are commonly the -product of a 
 natural affection ; and therefore it is no wonder, if 
 they flow more readily and easily upon a natural 
 account; because they are the effect of a cause 
 suitable to their nature. But sorrow for sin, which 
 hath more of the judgment and understanding in 
 it, hath not its foundation in natural affection, but 
 in reason ; and therefore may not many times ex- 
 press itself in tears, though it may produce greater 
 and more proper effects. 
 
 So that, upon the whole matter, I see no reason 
 to call in question the truth and sincerity of that 
 man's sorrow and repentance, who hates sin and 
 forsakes it, and returns to God and his duty, 
 though he cannot shed tears, and express the bit- 
 terness of his soul for his sin, by the same signifi- 
 cations that a mother doth in the loss of her only 
 son. He that cannot weep like a child may re- 
 solve like a man ; and that undoubtedly will find 
 acceptance with God. A learned divine hath well 
 illustrated this matter by this similitude. Two 
 persons walking together espy .a serpent ; the one 
 shrieks and cries out at the sight of it, the other 
 kills it : so it is in sorrow for sin ; some express it 
 by great lamentation and tears, and vehement 
 transports of passion ; others by greater and more 
 real effects of hatred and detestation, by forsaking 
 their sins, and by mortifying and subduing their 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 97 
 
 lusts : but he that kills it does certainly best ex- 
 press his inward displeasure and enmity against it. 
 
 The application I shall make of what hath been 
 said upon this argument, shall be in two parti- 
 culars. 
 
 I. By way of caution, and that against a double 
 mistake about sorrow for sin. 
 
 1. Some look upon trouble and sorrow for sin, as 
 the whole of repentance. 
 
 2. Others exact from themselves such a degree 
 of sorrow as ends in melancholy, and renders them 
 unfit both for the duties of religion, and of their 
 particular calling. The first concerns almost the 
 generality of men ; the latter but a very few in 
 comparison. 
 
 1. There are a great many, who look upon trou- 
 ble and sorrow for their sins, as the whole of re- 
 pentance, whereas it is but an introduction to it. 
 It is that which works repentance ; but is not 
 repentance itself. Repentance is always accom- 
 panied with sorrow for sin ; but sorrow for sin does 
 not always end in true repentance : sorrow only 
 respects sins past ; but repentance is chiefly pre- 
 ventive of sin for the future. And God doth 
 therefore require our sorrow for sin, in order to 
 our forsaking of it. ■ Repentance is there called ' re- 
 pentance from dead works.' It is not only a sor- 
 row for them, but a turning from them. 
 
 There is no reason why men should be so wil- 
 ling to deceive themselves, for they are like to be 
 the losers by it : but so we see it is, that many 
 men are contented to be deceived to their own 
 ruin; and among many other ways, which men 
 
 1 Heb vi. 1. 
 
98 OF CONFESSION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 have to cheat themselves, this is none of the least 
 frequent, to think that if they can but shed a few 
 tears for sin upon a death-bed — which no doubt they 
 may easily do, when they see their friends weeping 
 about them, and apprehend themselves to be in 
 iminent danger, not only of death, but of that 
 which is more terrible, the heavy displeasure, and 
 the fiery indignation of Almighty God, ' into whose 
 hands it is a fearful thing to fall;' — I say, they 
 think that if they can but do thus much, God will 
 accept this for a true repentance, and hereupon 
 grant them pardon and eternal life. And upon 
 these fond hopes, they adjourn their repentance, 
 and the reformation of their lives to a dying hour. 
 
 Indeed, if I were to speak to a man upon his 
 death-bed, I would encourage him to a great con- 
 trition and sorrow for his sins, as his last and only 
 remedy, and the best thing he can do at that time ; 
 but on the other hand, when I am speaking to 
 those 'Aat are well and in health, I dare not give 
 them the least encouragement to venture their souls 
 upon this, because it is a hazardous, and almost 
 desperate remedy ; especially when men have cun- 
 ningly and designedly contrived to rob God of the 
 service of their lives, and to put him off with a few 
 unprofitable sighs and tears, at their departure 
 out of the world. Our Saviour tells us, that it is 
 'not every one, that shall say unto him Lord! 
 Lord ! that shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; 
 and that there is a time, when ' many shall seek to 
 enter in, but shall not be able.' 
 
 The sum of this caution is, that men should take 
 heed of mistaking sorrow for sin, for true repent- 
 ance, unless it be followed with the forsaking of 
 sin and the real reformation of our lives. Ahab 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 99 
 
 humbled himself, but we do not find that he was a 
 true penitent. Judas was sorry for his sin, and yet 
 for all that was • the son of perdition.' Esau is a 
 sad type of an ineffectual sorrow for sin, Heb. xii. 
 where the apostle tells us, that ' he found no place 
 for repentance ;' that is, no way to change the mind 
 of his father Isaac, though he sought it carefully 
 with tears. If sorrow for sin were repentance, 
 there would be store of penitents in hell ; for there 
 is the deepest and most intense sorrow, ' weeping 
 and wailing and gnashing of teeth.' 
 
 2. Another mistake which men ought to be cau 
 tioned against in this matter, is of those who exact 
 from themselves such a degree of sorrow for sin as 
 ends in deep melancholy, as renders them unfit 
 both for the duties of religion, and of their particu- 
 lar callings. But because there are but very few 
 who fall into this mistake, I shall need to say the 
 less to it. This only I shall say, that those who 
 indulge their sorrow to such a degree as to drown 
 their spirits, and to sink them into melancholy and 
 mopishness, and thereby render themselves unser- 
 viceable to God, and unfit for the necessities of this 
 life, they commit one sin more to mourn for, and 
 overthrow the end of repentance by the indiscreet 
 use of the means of it. For the end of sorrow for 
 sin is the forsaking of it, and returning to our duty: 
 but he that sorrows for sin, so as to unfit him for 
 his duty, defeats his own design, and destroys the 
 end he aims at. 
 
 II. The other part of the application of this dis- 
 course should be to stir up this affection of sorrow 
 in us. And here, if I had time, I might represent 
 to you the great evil of sin, and the infinite danger 
 and inconvenience of it. If the holy men in Scrip- 
 
 H 2 
 
100 ON CONFE8SION, AND SORROW FOR SIN. 
 
 ture, David, and Jeremiah, and St. Paul were so 
 deeply affected with the sins of others, as to shed 
 rivers of tears at the remembrance of them ; how 
 ought we to be touched with the sense of our own 
 sins, who are equally concerned in the dishonour 
 brought to God by them, and infinitely more in 
 the danger they expose us to ! Can we weep for 
 our dead friends ? and have we no sense of that 
 heavy load of guilt, of that ■ body of death/ which 
 we carry about with us? Can we be sad and 
 melancholy for temporal losses and sufferings, and 
 ' refuse to be comforted ?/ and is it no trouble to 
 us to have lost heaven and happiness, and to be in 
 continual danger of the intolerable sufferings, and 
 endless torments of another world ? 
 
 I shall only offer to your consideration the great 
 benefit and advantage which will redound to us 
 from this godly sorrow ; ' it worketh repentance to 
 salvation, not to be repented of/ saith St. Paul. 
 If we would thus f sow in tears,' we should ' reap in 
 joy/ This sorrow would but continue for a time,' 
 and 'in the morning of the resurrection there 
 would be joy to all eternity, 'joy unspeakable and 
 full of glory.' It is but a very little while, and 
 these 'days of mourning will be accomplished;' 
 and then \ all tears shall be wiped from our eyes ; 
 and the ransomed of the Lord shall come to Sion 
 with songs, and everlasting joy shall be upon their 
 heads. They shall obtain joy and gladness, and 
 sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Blessed are 
 they that mourn, for they shall be comforted : but 
 woe unto you that laugh, for ye shall mourn and 
 weep.' If men will rejoice in the pleasures of sin, 
 and ' walk in the ways of their hearts, and in the 
 sight of their eyes;' if they will 'remove sorrow 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON. 101 
 
 from their heart/ and put away all sad and melan- 
 choly thoughts from them, and are resolved to 
 harden their spirits against the sense of sin, against 
 the checks and convictions of their own consciences, 
 and the suggestions of God's Holy Spirit, against 
 all the arguments that God can offer, and all the 
 methods that God can use to bring them to repent- 
 ance; let them 'know, that for all these things 
 God will bring them into judgment;' and because 
 they would not give way to a timely and season- 
 able sorrow for sin, they shall lie down in eternal 
 sorrow, 'weeping and wailing and gnashing of 
 teeth shall be their portion for ever.' From which 
 sad and miserable estate, beyond all imagination, 
 and past all remedy, God of his infinite goodness 
 deliver us all, for Jesus Christ's sake. 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 
 
 Jkkemy Taylor was born in 1613. At the Restoration, in 1660, he ' 
 appointed to the bishopric of Down and Connor. He died i 1667 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 otREMUH, XIII. 16. 
 
 Give glory to the Lord your God, before he cause 
 darkness, and before your feet stumble on the 
 dark mountains, and, while ye look for light, {or, 
 lest while ye look for light,) he shall turn it into 
 the shadow of death, and make it gross darkness. 
 
 God is the eternal fountain of honour and the 
 spring of glory ; in him it dwells essentially, from 
 him it derives originally ; and when an action is 
 glorious, or a man is honourable, it is because the 
 action is pleasing to God, in the relation of obedi- 
 ence or imitation, and because the man is honoured 
 by God, and by God's vicegerent : and therefore, 
 God cannot be dishonoured, because all honour 
 comes from himself; he cannot but be glorified, 
 because to be himself is to be infinitely glorious. 
 And yet he is pleased to say, that our sins disho- 
 nour him, and our obedience does glorify him. But 
 as the sun, the great eye of the world, prying into 
 the recesses of rocks and the hollowness of valleys, 
 receives appearances or visible forms from these 
 objects, but he beholds them only by that ligh 
 
106 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 which proceeds from himself; so does God, who is 
 the light of that eye ; he receives reflexes and re- 
 turns from us, and these he calls ' glorifications' of 
 himself, but they are such as are made so by his 
 own gracious acceptation. For God cannot be glo- 
 rified by any thing but by himself, and by his own 
 instruments, which he makes as mirrors to reflect 
 his own excellency ; that by seeing the glory of 
 such emanations, he may rejoice in his own works, 
 because they are images of his infinity. Thus when 
 he made the beauteous frame of heaven and earth, 
 he rejoiced in it, and glorified himself; because it 
 was the glass in which he beheld his wisdom and 
 almighty power. And when God destroyed the old 
 world, in that also he glorified himself; for in those 
 waters he saw the image of his justice, — they were 
 the looking-glass for that attribute; and God is 
 said ' to laugh at* and rejoice in the destruction of 
 a sinner, because he is pleased with the economy of 
 his own laws, and the excellent proportions he hath 
 made of his judgments consequent to our sins. 
 But, above all, God rejoiced in his holy Son ; for 
 he was the image of the Divinity, * the character 
 and express image of his person ;' in him he beheld 
 his own essence, his wisdom, his power, his justice, 
 and his person ; and he was that excellent instru- 
 ment designed from eternal ages to represent, as in 
 a double mirror, not only the glories of God to 
 himself, but also to all the world ; and he glorified 
 God by the instrument of obedience, in which God 
 beheld his own dominion and the sanctity of his 
 laws clearly represented ; and he saw his justice 
 glorified, when it was fully satisfied by the passion 
 of his Son : and so he hath transmitted to us a great 
 manner of the divine glorification, being become to 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 107 
 
 us the author and example of giving glory to God 
 after the manner of men, that is, by well doing and 
 patient suffering, by obeying his laws and submit- 
 ting to his power, by imitating his holiness and 
 confessing his goodness, by remaining innocent or 
 becoming penitent ; for this also is called in the 
 text * giving glory to the Lord our God.' 
 
 For he that hath dishonoured God by sins, that 
 is, hath denied, by a moral instrument of duty and 
 subordination, to confess the glories of his power, 
 and the goodness of his laws, and hath dishonoured 
 and despised his mercy, which God intended as an 
 instrument of our piety, hath no better way to 
 glorify God than by returning to his duty, to ad- 
 vance the honour of the divine attributes, in which 
 he is pleased to communicate himself, and to have 
 intercourse with man. He that repents, confesses 
 his own error, and the righteousness of God's laws; 
 and by judging himself confesses that he deserves 
 punishment ; and therefore, that God is righteous 
 if he punishes him; and, by returning, confesses 
 God to be the fountain of felicity, and the founda- 
 tion of true, solid, and permanent joys, saying in 
 the sense and passion of the disciples, ' Whither 
 shall we go ? for thou hast the words of eternal 
 life:' and, by humbling himself, exalts God, by 
 making the proportions of distance more immense 
 and vast. And as repentance does contain in it all 
 the parts of holy life, which can be performed by 
 a returning sinner; (all the acts and habits of vir- 
 tue being but parts, or instances, or effects of re- 
 pentance;) so all the actions of a holy life do con- 
 stitute the mass and body of all those instruments, 
 whereby God is pleased to glorify himself. For if 
 God is glorified in the sun and moon, in the rare 
 
108 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 fabric of the honeycombs, in the discipline of bees, 
 in the economy of ants, in the little houses of 
 birds, in the curiosity of an eye, God being pleased 
 to delight in those little images and reflexes of 
 himself from those pretty mirrors, which, like a cre- 
 vice in the wall, through a narrow perspective, 
 transmit the species of a vast excellency; much 
 rather shall God be pleased to behold himself in 
 the glasses of our obedience, in the emissions of our 
 will and understanding; these being rational and 
 apt instruments to express him, far better than the 
 natural, as being nearer communications of him- 
 self. 
 
 But I shall no longer discourse of the philoso- 
 phy of this expression : certain it is, that in the 
 style of Scripture, repentance is the great ' glorifica- 
 tion of God ;' and the prophet, by calling the peo- 
 ple to * give God glory/ calls on them 'to repent/ 
 and so expresses both the duty and the event of it; 
 the event being 'glory to God on high, peace on 
 earth, and good-will towards men' by the sole in- 
 strument of repentance. And this was it which 
 Joshua said to Achan, ■ Give, I pray thee, 
 glory to the Lord God of Israel, and make 
 confession unto him :' l that one act of repent- 
 ance is one act of glorifying God. And this David 
 acknowledged; 'Against thee only have I sinned 
 that thou mightest be justified or cleared :'* 
 that is, that God may have the honour of being 
 righteous, and we the shame of receding from so 
 excellent a perfection ; or, as St. Paul quotes and 
 explicates the place, ' Let,God be true, and every 
 man a liar; as it is written, that thou mightest 
 
 1 Joshua, vii. 19. 2 Psalm li. 4. 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 109 
 
 be justified in thy sayings, and mightest overcome 
 when thou art judged.' 1 But to clear the sense of 
 this expression of the prophet, observe the words of 
 St. John : ' And men were scorched with great 
 heat, and blasphemed the name of God, who hath 
 power over those plagues : and they repented not 
 to give him glory.' * 
 
 So that having strength and reason from these so 
 many authorities, I may be free to read the words 
 of my text thus : ' Repent of all your sins, before 
 God cause darkness, and before your feet stumble 
 on the dark mountains.' And then we have here 
 the duty of repentance, and the time of its perform- 
 ance. It must be fxeravoia evKaipog, " a seasonable 
 and timely repentance," a repentance which must 
 begin before our darkness begin, a repentance in 
 the day-time ; " that ye may work while it is to- 
 day ;" lest, if we ' stumble on the dark mountains/ 
 that is, fall into the ruins of old age, which makes a 
 broad way narrow, and a plain way to be a craggy 
 mountain ; or if we stumble and fall into pur last 
 sickness; instead of health God send us to our 
 grave ; and, instead of light and salvation, which 
 we then confidently look for, he make our state to 
 be outer darkness, that is, misery irremediable, mi- 
 sery eternal. 
 
 This exhortation of the prophet was always full 
 of caution and prudence, but now it is highly ne- 
 cessary ; since men, who are so clamorously called 
 to repentance, that they cannot avoid the necessity 
 of it ; yet, that they may reconcile an evil life with 
 the hopes of heaven, have crowded this duty into 
 so little room, that it is almost strangled and ex- 
 
 * Kom. iii. 4. 2 Rev. xvi. 9. 
 
110 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 tinct ; and they have lopped off so many members, 
 that they have reduced the whole body of it to the 
 dimensions of a little finger, sacrificing their child- 
 hood to vanity, their youth to lust and to intem- 
 perance, their manhood to ambition and rage, 
 pride and revenge, secular desires and unholy ac- 
 tions ; and yet still further, giving their old age to 
 covetousness and oppression, to the world and the 
 devil : and, after all this, what remains for God 
 and for religion ? Oh, for that they will do well 
 enough : on their death-bed they will think a few 
 godly tnoughts, they will send for a priest to minis- 
 ter comfort to them, they will pray and ask God 
 forgiveness, and receive the holy sacrament, and 
 leave their goods behind them, disposing them 
 to their friends and relatives, and some dole and 
 issues of the alms-basket to the poor ; and if after 
 all this they die quietly, and like a lamb, and be 
 canonised by a bribed flatterer in a funeral sermon, 
 they make no doubt but they are children of the 
 kingdom, and perceive not their folly, till, without 
 Jiope of remedy, they roar in their expectations of 
 a certain, but a horrid eternity of pains. Certainly 
 nothing hath made more ample harvests for the 
 devil, than the deferring of repentance on vain 
 confidences, and lessening it in the extension of 
 parts as well as intention of degrees, while we ima- 
 gine that a few tears and scatterings of devotion are 
 enough to expiate the baseness of a fifty or a three- 
 score years' impiety. This I shall endeavour to 
 cure, by showing what it is to repent, and that re- 
 pentance implies in it the duty of a life, or of 
 many and great, of long and lasting parts of it; 
 and then, by direct arguments, showing that re- 
 pentauce put off to our death-bed, is invalid and 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. Ill 
 
 ineffectual, sick, languid, and impotent, like our 
 bodies and disabled faculties. 
 
 1. First, therefore, repentance implies a deep 
 sorrow, as the beginning and introduction of this 
 duty : not a superficial sigh or tear, not a calling 
 ourselves sinners and miserable persons : this is far 
 from that • godly sorrow that worketh repentance :' 
 and yet I wish there were none in the world, or 
 none amongst us, who cannot remember that ever 
 they have done this little towards the abolition of 
 their multitudes of sins : but yet, if it were not a 
 hearty, pungent sorrow, a sorrow that shall break 
 the heart in pieces, a sorrow that shall so irrecon- 
 cile us to sin, as to make us rather choose to die 
 than to sin, it is not so much as the beginning of 
 repentance. But in Holy Scripture, when the 
 people are called to repentance, and sorrow (which 
 is ever the prologue to it) marches sadly, and first 
 opens the scene, it is ever expressed to be great, 
 clamorous, and sad :' it is called * a weeping sorely' 
 in the next verse after my text ; ' a weeping with 
 the bitterness of heart;' 'a turning to the Lord 
 with weeping, fasting, and mourning;' 1 'a, weep- 
 ing day and night;' the 'sorrow of heart;' the 
 ' breaking of the spirit ;' the * mourning like a 
 dove,' and 'chattering like a swallow.' 8 And if 
 we observe the threnes 3 and sad accents of the 
 prophet Jeremy, when he wept for the sins of his 
 nation ; the heart-breakings of David, when he 
 mourned for his adultery and murder; and the 
 bitter tears of St. Peter, when he washed off the 
 guilt and baseness of his fall, and the denying his 
 Master ; we shall be sufficiently instructed in this 
 
 1 Ezek. xxvii. 31. a Joel, ii. 13. 
 
 J Qpijvog., wailing, lamentation. 
 
112 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 -prceludium or " introduction" to repentance ; and 
 that it is not every breath of a sigh, or moisture oi 
 a tender eye ; not every crying " Lord have mercy 
 on me," that is such a sorrow, as begins our restitu- 
 tion to the state of grace and divine favour ; but 
 such a sorrow, that really condemns ourselves, and 
 by an active, effectual sentence, declares us worthy 
 of stripes and death, of sorrow and eternal pains, 
 and willingly endures the first to prevent the 
 second ; and weeps, and mourns, and fasts, to ob- 
 tain of God but to admit us to a possibility of res- 
 titution. And, although all, sorrow for sins hath 
 not the same expression, nor the same degree of 
 pungency and sensitive trouble, which differ ac- 
 cording to the temper of the body, custom, the sex, 
 and accidental tenderness ; ' yet it is not a godly 
 sorrow, unless it really produce those effects : that 
 is, first, that it makes us really to hate, and, 
 secondly, actually to decline sin ; and, thirdly, 
 produce in us a fear of God's anger, a sense 
 of the guilt of his displeasure ; and, fourthly, 
 then such consequent trouble as can consist 
 with such apprehension of the divine displeasure : 
 which if it express not in tears and hearty com- 
 plaints, must be expressed in watch ings and striv- 
 ings against sin; in confessing the goodness and 
 justice of God threatening or punishing u« ; in pa- 
 tiently bearing the rod of God ; in confession of our 
 sins ; in accusation of ourselves ; in perpetual 
 begging of pardon, and mean and base opinions of 
 ourselves ; and in all the natural productions from 
 these, according to our temper and constitution ; — 
 it must be a sorrow of the reasonable faculty, the 
 
 '• See Rule of Holy Living, art. Repentance. 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 113 
 
 greatest in its kind : and if it be less in kind, or not 
 productive of these effects, it is not a godly sorrow, 
 not the beginning of repentance. 
 
 But I desire that it be observed, that sorrow for 
 sins is not repentance ; not that duty which gives 
 glory to God, so as to obtain of him that he will 
 glorify us. Repentance is a great volume of duty ; 
 and godly sorrow is but the frontispiece or title- 
 page ; it is the harbinger or first introduction to it : 
 or, if you will consider it in the words of St. Paul, 
 • Godly sorrow worketh repentance :' ' — sorrow is the 
 parent, and repentance is the product. And, there- 
 fore, it is a high piece of ignorance to suppose, that 
 a crying out and roaring for our sins on our death- 
 bed can reconcile us to God : our crying to God 
 must be so early and so lasting, as to be able to 
 teem and produce such a daughter, which must 
 live long, and grow from an embryo to an infant, 
 from infancy to childhood, from thence to the ful- 
 ness of the stature of Christ ; and then it is a holy 
 and a happy sorrow. But if it be a sorrow only of 
 a death-bed, it is a fruitless shower; or, like the 
 rain of Sodom, not the beginning of repentance, 
 but the kindling of a flame, the commencement of 
 an eternal sorrow. For Ahab had,, a great sorrow, 
 but it wrought nothing on his spirit ; it did not re- 
 concile his affections to his duty, and his duty to 
 God. Judas had so great a sorrow for betraying 
 the innocent blood of his Lord, that it was intoler- 
 able to his spirit. And if mere sorrow be repent- 
 ance, then hell is full of penitents ; for • there is 
 weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, for 
 evermore.' 
 
 Let us, therefore, beg of God, as Caleb's daughter 
 
 1 2 Cor. vii. 10. 
 
 I 
 
J 14 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 did of her father : ' Thou hast given me a dry land, 
 give me also a land of waters/ a dwelling-place in 
 tears, rivers of tears ; "that," as St. Austin's expres- 
 sion is, " because we are not worthy to lift up our 
 eyes to heaven in prayer, yet we may be worthy to 
 weep ourselves blind for sin." 1 The meaning is, 
 that we beg sorrow of God, such a sorrow as may 
 be sufficient to quench the flames of lust, and sur- 
 mount the hills of our pride, and may extinguish 
 our thirst of covetousness ; that is, a sorrow that 
 shall be an effective principle of arming all our fa- 
 culties against sin, and heartily setting on the work 
 of grace, and the persevering labours of a holy life. 
 I shall only add one word to this: that our sorrow 
 for sin is not to be estimated by our tears and our 
 sensible expressions, but by our active hatred and 
 dereliction of sin ; and is many times unperceived 
 in outward demonstration. We can only be sure that 
 our sorrow is a godly sorrow, when it worketh re- 
 pentance ; that is, when it makes us hate and leave 
 all our sin, and take up the cross of patience or pe- 
 nance; that is, confess our sin, accuse ourselves, 
 condemn the action by hearty sentence : and then, 
 if it hath no other emanation but fasting and prayer 
 for its pardon, and hearty industry towards its 
 abolition, our sorrow is not reprovable. 
 
 2. For sorrow alone will not do it ; there must 
 follow a total dereliction of our sin ; and this is the 
 first part of repentance. Concerning which I con- 
 sider, that it is a sad mistake amongst many that 
 do some things towards repentance, that they mis- 
 take the first addresses and instruments of this part 
 of repentance for the whole duty itself. Confes- 
 
 1 Ut, quoniam non sumus digni oculus orando ad ccelum le- 
 vare, at simus digni oculos plorando caecare. 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 115 
 
 sion of sins is in order to the dereliction of them : 
 but then confession must not be like the unlading 
 of a ship to take in new stowage ; or the vomits of 
 intemperance, which ease the stomach that they 
 may continue the merry meeting. But such a 
 confession is too frequent, in which men either 
 comply with custom, or seek to ease a present 
 load or gripe of conscience, or are willing tq 
 dress up their souls against a festival, or hope 
 for pardon on so easy terms : these are but re- 
 tirings back to leap the further into mischief; or 
 but approaches to God with the lips. No con- 
 fession can be of any use, but as it is an instru- 
 ment of shame to the person, of humiliation to 
 the man, and dereliction of the sin ; and receives 
 its recompense but as it adds to these purposes : all 
 other is like ' the bleating of the calves and the 
 lowing of the oxen/ which Saul reserved after the 
 spoil of Agag ; they proclaim the sin, but do no- 
 thing towards its cure; they serve God's end to 
 make us justly to be condemned out of our own 
 mouths, but nothing at all towards our absolution. 
 Nay, if we proceed further to the greatest expres- 
 sions of humiliation, (parts of which I reckon fast- 
 ing, praying for pardon, judging and condemning 
 of ourselves by instances of a present indignation 
 against a crime,) yet, unless this proceed so far as 
 to a total deletion of the sin, to the extirpation of 
 every vicious habit, God is not glorified by our re- 
 pentance, nor we secured in our eternal interest. 
 Our sin must be brought to judgment, and, like 
 Antinous in Homer, laid in the midst, as the sac- 
 rifice and the cause of all the mischief. 1 This is 
 
 1 *AXX' 6 fikv rjSt] jcelrai, og clItioq J-ttXsto tt&vtojv. Od.x.48. 
 
 I 2 
 
116 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 the murderer, this is the ' Achan/ this is * he that 
 troubles Israel :' let the sin be confessed and car- 
 ried with the pomps and solemnities of sorrow to 
 its funeral, and so let the murderer be slain. But 
 if, after all the forms of confession and sorrow, fast- 
 ing, and humiliation, and pretence of doing the 
 will of God, we ' spare Agag and the fattest of the 
 cattle' — our delicious sins — and still leave an unlaw- 
 ful king, and a tyrant sin to reign in our mortal 
 bodies ; we may pretend what we will towards re- 
 pentance, but we are no better penitents than 
 Ahab ; no nearer to the obtaining of our hopes 
 than Esau was to his birthright, ' for whose re- 
 pentance there was no place left, though he sought 
 it carefully with tears.' 
 
 3. Well, let us suppose our penitent advanced 
 thus far, as that he decrees against all sin, and in 
 his hearty purposes resolves to decline it, as in a 
 severe sentence he hath condemned it as his be- 
 trayer and his murderer; yet we must be curious 
 (for now only the repentance properly begins) 
 that it be not only like the springings of the thorny 
 or the high-way ground, soon up and soon down: 
 for some men, when a sadness or an unhandsome 
 accident surprises them, then they resolve against 
 their sin ; but as soon as the thorns are removed, re- 
 turn to their first hardness, and resolve then to act 
 their first temptation. Others there are who never re- 
 solve against a sin, but either when they have no 
 temptation to it, or when their appetites are newly 
 satisfied with it; like those who immediately after 
 a full dinner resolve to fast at supper, and they 
 keep it till their appetite returns, and then their 
 resolution unties like the cords of vanity, or the 
 gossamer against the violence of the northern wind. 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 117 
 
 Thus a lustful person fills all the capacity of his 
 lust ; and when he is wearied, and the sin goes off 
 with unquietness and regret, and the appetite falls 
 down like a horse-leech, when it is ready to burst 
 with putrefaction and an unwholesome plethory, 
 then he resolves to be a good man, and could al- 
 most vow to be a hermit : but, the next spring- tide 
 that comes, every wave of the temptation makes an 
 inroad on the resolution, and gets ground, and pre- 
 vails against it, more than his resolution prevailed 
 against his sin. How many drunken persons, how 
 many swearers, resolve daily and hourly against 
 their sins, and yet act them not once the less for all 
 their infinite heap of shamefully-retreating pur- 
 poses ! That resolution that begins on just grounds 
 of sorrow and severe judgment, on fear and love, 
 that is made in the midst of a temptation, that is 
 inquisitive into all the means and instruments of 
 the cure, that prays perpetually against a sin, that 
 watches continually against a surprise, and never 
 sinks into it by deliberation ; that rights earnestly, 
 and carries on the war prudently, and prevails by 
 a never-ceasing diligence against the temptation; 
 that only is a pious and well-begun repentance. 
 They that have their fits of a quartan, well and ill 
 for ever, and think themselves in perfect health 
 when the ague is retired, till its period returns, are 
 dangerously mistaken. Those, intervals of imper- 
 fect and fallacious resolution are nothing but states 
 of death : and if a man should depart this world 
 in one of those godly fits, as he thinks them, he is 
 no nearer to obtain his blessed hope, than a man 
 in the stone-colic is to health, when his pain is 
 eased for the present, his disease still remaining, 
 and threatening an unwelcome return. That reso- 
 
118 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 lution only is the beginning of a holy repentance, 
 which goes forth into act, and whose acts enlarge 
 into habits, and whose habits are productive of 
 the fruits of a holy life. 
 
 From hence we are to take our estimate, whence 
 our resolutions of piety must commence. He that 
 resolves not to live well, till the time comes that he 
 must die, is ridiculous in his great design, as he is 
 impertinent in his intermedial purposes, and vain 
 in his hope. Can a dying man to any real effect 
 resolve to be chaste ? For virtue must be an act 
 of election, and chastity is the contesting against a 
 proud and an imperious lust, active flesh, and in- 
 sinuating temptation. And what doth he resolve 
 against, who can no more be tempted to the sin of 
 unchastity, than he can return back again to his 
 youth and vigour ? And it is considerable, that since 
 all the purposes of a holy life which a dying man 
 can make, cannot be reduced to act ; by what law, 
 or reason, or covenant, or revelation, are we taught 
 to distinguish the resolution of a dying man from 
 the purposes of a living and vigorous person ? 
 Suppose a man in his youth and health, moved 
 by consideration of the irregularity and deformity 
 of sin, the danger of its productions, the wrath 
 and displeasure of Almighty-God, should resolve to 
 leave the puddles of impurity, and walk in the 
 paths of righteousness ; can this resolution alone 
 put him into the state of grace ? Is he admitted to 
 pardon and the favour of God, because he hath in 
 some measure performed actually what he so rea- 
 sonably hath resolved ? by no means. For resolu- 
 tion and purpose is, in its own nature and consti- 
 tution, an imperfect act, and therefore can signify 
 nothing without its performance and consumma- 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 119 
 
 tion. It is as a faculty is to the act, as spring is to 
 the harvest, as seed-time is to the autumn, as eggs 
 are to birds, or as a relative to its correspondent ; 
 nothing without it. And can it be imagined that 
 a resplution in our health and life shall be effectual 
 without performance.? And shall a resolution, 
 barely such, do any good on our death-bed ? Can 
 such purposes prevail against a long impiety, ra- 
 ther than against a young and a newly-begun state 
 of sin ? Will God at an easier rate pardon the 
 sins of fifty or sixty years, than the sins of our 
 youth only, or the iniquity of five years, or ten ? 
 If a holy life be not necessary to be lived, why shall 
 it be necessary to resolve to live in it ? But if a holy 
 life be ecessary, then it cann t be sufficient merely 
 to resolve it, unless this resolution go forth in an 
 actual and real service. Vain therefore is the hope 
 of those persons, who either go on in their sins be- 
 fore their last sickness, never thinking to return into 
 the ways of God, from whence they have wandered 
 all their life, never renewing their resolutions and 
 vows of holy living ; or if they have, yet their pur- 
 poses are for ever blasted with the next violent 
 temptation. More prudent was the prayer of Da- 
 vid : ' Oh spare me a little, that I may recover my 
 strength, before I go hence and be no more seen.' 
 And something like it was the saying of the 
 emperor Charles the Fifth ;. " There ought to 
 be a period of reflection, between the active 
 business of life, and the day of our death."' 
 Whenever our holy purposes are renewed, unless 
 God give us time to act them, to mortify and sub- 
 due our lusts, to conquer and subdue the whole 
 
 1 Inter vitae negotia et mortis diem oportet spatium intercedere. 
 
120 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 kingdom of sin, to rise from our grave, and be 
 clothed with nerves and flesh and a new skin, 
 to overcome our deadly sicknesses, and by little 
 and little to return to health and strength; un- 
 less we have grace and time to do all this, our 
 sins will lie down with us in our graves. For 
 when a man hath contracted a long habit of sin, 
 and it hath been growing on him ten or twenty, 
 forty or fifty years, whose acts he hath daily or 
 hourly repeated, and they are grown to a second 
 nature to him, — and have so prevailed on the ruins 
 of his spirit, that the man is taken captive by the 
 devil at his will, he is fast bound, as a slave tug- 
 ging at the oar ; that he is grown in love with his 
 fetters, and longs to be doing the work of sin ; — is 
 it likely, that after all this progress and growth in 
 sin, in the ways of which he runs fast without 
 any impediment ; — is it, I say, likely, that a few 
 days or weeks of sickness can recover him ? Can 
 a man be supposed so prompt to piety and holy 
 living — a man, I mean, that hath lived wickedly a 
 long time together — can he be of so ready and ac- 
 tive a virtue on the sudden, as to recover, in a 
 month or a week, what he hath been undoing in 
 twenty or thirty years ? Is it so easy to build, 
 that a weak and infirm person, bound hand and 
 foot, shall be able to build more in three days than 
 was a-building above forty years ? Christ did it in 
 a figurative sense: but in this, it is not in the 
 power of any man so suddenly to be recovered 
 from so long a sickness. Necessary therefore it is 
 that all these instruments of our conversion, — 
 confession of sins, praying for their pardon, and 
 resolution to lead a new life, — should begin, ' before 
 our feet stumble on the dark mountains ;' lest we 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 121 
 
 leave the work only resolved on to be begun, which it 
 is necessary we should in many degrees finish, if ever 
 we mean to escape the eternal darkness. For that 
 we should actually abolish the whole body of sin 
 and death, — that we should crucify the old man with 
 his lusts, — that we should lay aside every weight, 
 and the sin that doth so easily beset us, — that we 
 should cast away the works of darkness, — that we 
 should awake from sleep, and arise from death, — 
 that we should redeem the time, — that we should 
 cleanse our hands and purify our hearts, — that we 
 should have escaped the corruption (all the cor- 
 ruption) that is in the whole world through lust, — 
 that nothing of the old leaven should remain in 
 us, — but that we be wholly a new lump, thoroughly 
 transformed and changed in the image of our mind; 
 --■these are the perpetual precepts of the Spirit, and 
 the certain duty of man ; and that to have all these 
 in purpose only, is merely to no purpose, without 
 the actual eradication of every vicious habit, and 
 the certain abolition of every criminal adherence, 
 —is clearly and dogmatically decreed every where 
 in the Scripture. * For, (they are the words of St. 
 Paul) ' they that are Christ's, have crucified the 
 flesh, with the affections and lusts ;' l the work is 
 actually done, and sin is dead or wounded mor- 
 tally, before they can in any sense belong to 
 Christ, to be a portion of his inheritance : and ' He 
 that is in Christ, is a new creature.'* For ' in 
 Christ Jesus nothing can avail but a new crea- 
 ture;' 3 nothing but a 'keeping the command- 
 ments of God.' 4 Not all tears, though we 
 should weep like David and his men at Ziklag, 
 
 1 Gal.v. 24. 2 lb. vi. 15. 3 lb. v. 6. 
 
 1 Cor. vii. 19. 
 
122 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 ' till they could weep no more/ or the women of 
 Ramah, or like ■ the weeping in the valley of Hin- 
 nom,' could suffice, if we retain the affection to 
 any one sin, or have any unrepented of or unmor- 
 tified. It is true that ' a contrite and a broken 
 heart God will not despise :' no, he will not. For 
 if it be a hearty and permanent sorrow, it is an ex- 
 cellent beginning of repentance ; and God will to 
 a timely sorrow give the grace of repentance : he 
 will not give pardon to sorrow alone; but that 
 which ought to be the proper effect of sorrow, that 
 God shall give. He shall then open the gates of 
 mercy, and admit you to a possibility of restitu- 
 tion : so that you may be within the covenant of 
 repentance, which if you actually perform, you may 
 expect God's promise. And in this sense confes- 
 sion will obtain our pardon, and humiliation will 
 be accepted, and our holy purposes and pious re- 
 solutions shall be accounted for ; that is, these be- 
 ing the first steps and addresses to that part o. 
 repentance which consists in the abolition of sins, 
 shall be accepted so far as to procure so much 
 of the pardon, to do so much of the work of 
 restitution, that God will admit the returning 
 man to a further degree of emendation, to a nearer 
 possibility of working out his salvation. But 
 then, if this sorrow and confession, and these 
 strong purposes, begin then when our life is de- 
 clined towards the west, and is now ready to set in 
 darkness and a dismal night ; because of them- 
 selves they could but procure an admission to re- 
 pentance, not at all to pardon and plenary absolu- 
 tion, by showing that on our death-bed these are 
 too late and ineffectual, they call on us to begin 
 betimes, when these imperfect acts may be con- 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 123 
 
 summate and perfect in the actual performing those 
 parts of holy life, to which they were ordained in 
 the nature of the thing, and the purposes of God. 
 
 4. Lastly, suppose all this be done, and that by 
 a long course of strictness and severity, mortifica- 
 tion and circumspection, we have overcome all our 
 vicious and baser habits ; suppose that he hath 
 wept and fasted, prayed and vowed to excellent 
 purposes; yet all this is but the one half of re- 
 pentance, so infinitely mistaken is the world, to 
 think any thing to be enough to make up re- 
 pentance. But to renew us, and restore us to the 
 favour of God, there is required far more than 
 what hath been yet accounted for. See it in 2 Pet. 
 i. 4, 5. ' Having escaped the corruption that is in 
 the world through lust : and besides this, giving 
 all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue 
 knowledge, to knowledge temperance, to tempe- 
 rance patience,' and so on, ' to godliness, to brotherly 
 kindness, and to charity : these things must be in 
 you and abound. This is the sum total of repent- 
 ance : we must not only have overcome sin, but 
 we must, after great diligence, have acquired the 
 habits of all those Christian graces, which are ne- 
 cessary in the transaction of our affairs, in all rela- 
 tions to God and our neighbour, and our own per- 
 sons. It is not enough to say, 'Lord, I thank 
 thee, I am no extortioner, no adulterer, not as this 
 publican : ' all the reward of such a penitent is, 
 that when he hath escaped the corruption of the 
 world, he hath also escaped those heavy judgments 
 which threatened his ruin. It may be, we have 
 escaped the rod of the exterminating angel, when 
 our sins are crucified : but we shall never ■ enter 
 into the joy of the Lord,' unless, after we have ' put 
 
1^4 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 off the old man with his affections and lusts,' we 
 also 'put on the new man in righteousness and ho- 
 liness of life.' l And this we are taught in most 
 plain doctrine by St. Paul : * L<et us lay aside the 
 weight that doth so easily beset us;' that is the 
 one half : and then it follows, 'Let us run with 
 patience the race that is set before us.' These are 
 the ' fruits meet for repentance,' spoken of by St. 
 John Baptist ; that is, when we renew our first un- 
 dertaking in baptism, and return to our course of 
 jnnocence. 
 
 "Parcus Deorum cultor et infrequens, 
 Insanientis dum sapientiae 
 
 Consultus erro, nunc retrorsum 
 Vela dare, atque iterare cursus 
 Cogor relictos." * 
 
 The sense of which words is well given us by St. 
 John : ■ Remember whence thou art fallen ; repent, 
 and do thy first works.' 3 For all our hopes of hea- 
 ven rely on that covenant which God made with 
 us in baptism ; which is, ' that being redeemed 
 from our vain conversation, we should serve him in 
 holiness and righteousness all our days.' Now 
 when any of us hath prevaricated our part of the 
 covenant, we must return to that state, and redeem 
 the intermedial time spent in sin, by our doubled 
 industry in the ways of grace : we must be reduced 
 to our first estate, and make some proportionable 
 returns of duty for our sad omissions, and great 
 violations of our baptismal vow. For God having 
 made no covenant with us but that which is con- 
 signed in baptism ; in the same proportion in which 
 we retain or return to that, in the same we are to 
 
 » Heb. xii. 1. * Hor. Od.i.34. 1. Revel, ii. 
 
BY BISHOP TAYLOR. 125 
 
 expect the pardon of our sins, and all the other 
 promises evangelical ; but no otherwise, unless we 
 can show a new gospel, or be baptized again by 
 God's appointment. He, therefore, that by a long 
 habit, by a state and continued course of sin, hath 
 gone so far from his baptismal purity, as that he 
 hath nothing of the Christian left on him but his 
 name; that man hath much to do to make his gar- 
 ments clean, to purify his soul, to take off all the 
 stains of sin, that his spirit may be presented pure 
 to the eyes of God, who beholds no impurity. It 
 is not an easy thing to cure a long-contracted habit 
 of sin. Let any intemperate person but try in his 
 own instance of drunkenness; or the swearer, in 
 the sweetening his unwholesome language : but 
 then so to command his tongue that he never swear, 
 but that his speech be prudent, pious, and apt to 
 edify the hearer, or in some sense to glorify God ; 
 or to become temperate, to have got a habit of so- 
 briety, or chastity, or humility, is the work of a 
 life. And if we do but consider, that he that lives 
 well from his younger years, or takes up at the end 
 of his youthful heats, and enters into the courses of 
 a sober life early, diligently, and vigorously, shall 
 find himself, after the studies and labours of twenty 
 or thirty years' piety, but a very imperfect person, 
 many degrees of pride left unrooted up, many in- 
 roads of intemperance or beginnings of excess, 
 much indevotion and backwardness in religion, 
 many temptations to contest against, and some in- 
 firmities which he shall never say he hath mas- 
 tered; we shall find the work of a holy life is not 
 to be deferred till our days are almost done, till our 
 strengths are decayed, our spirits are weak, and 
 our lust strong, our habits confirmed, and our long- 
 
126 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 ings after sin many and impotent: for what is 
 very hard to be done, and is always done imper- 
 fectly, when there is length of time, and a less 
 work to do, and more abilities to do it withal; 
 when the time is short, and almost expired, and 
 the work made difficult and vast, and the strengths 
 weaker, and the faculties are disabled, will seem little 
 less than absolutely impossible. I shall end this ge- 
 neral consideration with the question of the apostle : 
 1 If the righteous scarcely be saved,' if it be so dif- 
 ficult to overcome our sins, and obtain virtuous 
 fiabits ; difficult, I say, to a righteous, a sober, and 
 well-living person ; ' where shall the ungodly and 
 the sinner appear ? ' what shall become of him, 
 who, by his evil life, hath not, only removed him- 
 self from the affections, but even from the possibi- 
 lities of virtue ? He that hath lived in sin, will 
 die in sorrow. 
 
SERMON VII. 
 ON SELF-DENIAL 
 
 BY THB 
 
 REV. JOHN WESLEY, M. A. 
 
 [Johh Wesley, bom 1703, died 1791.] 
 
SERMON VII 
 
 Luke, ix. 23. 
 
 And he said unto them all, If any man will come 
 after me, let him deny himself, and take up his 
 cross daily, and follow me. 
 
 It has been frequently imagined, that the direc- 
 tion here given related chiefly, if not wholly, to the 
 apostles ; at least to the Christians of the first ages, 
 or those in a state of persecution. But this is a 
 grievous mistake : for, although our blessed Lord 
 is here directing his discourse more immediately to 
 his apostles, and those other disciples who attended 
 him in the days of his flesh ; yet in them he speaks 
 to us, and to all mankind, without any exception or 
 limitation. The very reason of the thing puts it 
 beyond dispute, that the duty which is here en- 
 joined is not peculiar to them, or to the Christians 
 of the early ages. It no more regards any parti- 
 cular order of men, or particular time, than any 
 particular country. No : it is of the most uni- 
 versal nature, respecting all times and all persons. 
 Yea, and all things : not meats and drinks only, and 
 
 K 
 
130 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 things pertaining to the senses. The meaning is, if 
 any man, of whatever rank, station, circumstances, 
 in any nation, in any age of the world, will effec- 
 tually come after me, let him deny himself in all 
 things; 'let him take up his cross/ of whatever 
 kind, yea, and that « daily, and follow me.' 
 
 The ■ denying ourselves,' .and the * taking up our 
 cross,' in the full extent of the expression, is not a 
 thing of small concern : it is not expedient only, as 
 are some of the circumstantials of religion ; but it 
 is absolutely, indispensably necessary, either to our 
 becoming, or continuing his disciples. It is abso- 
 lutely necessary,. in the very nature of the thing, to 
 our ' coming after him,' and ' following him." Inso- 
 much that, as far as we do not practise it, we are not 
 his disciples. If we do not continually deny our- 
 selves, we do not learn of him, but of other masters. 
 If we do not take up our cross daily, we do not 
 come after him, but after the world, or the prince 
 of the world, or our own fleshly mind. If we are 
 not walking in the way of the cross, we are not 
 following him, we are not treading in his steps, 
 but going back from, or at least wide of him. 
 
 It is for this reason that so many ministers of 
 Christ, in almost every age and nation, particularly 
 since the reformation of the church from the inno- 
 vations and corruptions which had gradually crept 
 into it, have wrote and spoke so largely on this im- 
 portant duty, both in their public discourses and 
 private exhortations. This induced them to dis- 
 perse abroad many tracts upon the subject; and 
 some in our nation. They knew both from the 
 oracles of God, and from the testimony of their 
 own experience, how impossible it is not to deny 
 our Master, unless we will deny ourselves; and 
 
BY THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 131 
 
 how vainly we attempt to follow him that was 
 crucified, unless we take up our own cross daily. 
 
 But may not this very consideration make it 
 reasonable to inquire, if so much has been said and 
 wrote on the subject already, what need is there to 
 say or write any more ? I answer : There are con- 
 siderable numbers, even of people fearing God, 
 who have not had the opportunity either of hear- 
 ing what has been spoken, or reading what has 
 been written upon it. And perhaps if they had 
 read much of what has been written, tbey would 
 not have been much profited. Many who have 
 wrote, (some of them large volumes,) do by no 
 means appear to have understood the subject. 
 Either they had imperfect views of the very nature 
 of it, (and then they could never explain it to 
 others,) or they were unacquainted with the due 
 extent of it ; they did not see how exceeding broad 
 this command is : or they were not sensible of the 
 absolute, the indispensable necessity of it. Others 
 speak of it in so dark, so perplexed, so intricate, so 
 mystical a manner, as if they deigned rather to 
 conceal it from the vulgar, than to explain it to 
 common readers. Others speak admirably well, 
 with great clearness and strength, on the necessity 
 of self-denial ; but then they deal in generals only, 
 without coming to particular instances, and so are 
 of little use to the bulk of mankind, to men of ordi- 
 nary capacity and education. And if some of 
 them do descend to particulars, it is to those par- 
 ticulars only which do not affect the generality of 
 men ; since they seldom, if ever, occur in common 
 life: such as the enduring imprisonment, or tor- 
 tures ; the giving up, in a literal sense, their houses 
 or lands, their husbands or wives, children, or 
 
 K 2 
 
132 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 life itself : to none of which we are called, nor are 
 likely to be, unless God should permit times of 
 public persecution to return. In the meantime, I 
 know of no writer in the English tongue, who has 
 described the nature of self-denial in plain and in- 
 telligible terms, such as lie level with common un- 
 derstandings, and applied it to those little particu- 
 lars which daily occur in common life. A dis- 
 course of this kind is wanted still ; and it is wanted 
 the more, because in every stage of the spiritual 
 life, although there is a variety of particular hin- 
 derances of our attaining grace, or growing therein, 
 yet are they all resolvable into these general ones : 
 — either we do not deny ourselves, or we do not 
 take up our cross. 
 
 In order to supply this defect in some degree, I 
 shall endeavour to show, first, What it is for a 
 man to deny himself, and what to take up his 
 cross : and, secondly, That if a man be not fully 
 Christ's disciple, it is always owing to the want of 
 this. 
 
 I. I shall, first, endeavour to show what it is for 
 a man to deny himself, and take up his cross daily. 
 This is a point, which is of all others most neces- 
 sary to be considered, and thoroughly understood, 
 even on this account, that it is of all others most 
 opposed by numerous and powerful enemies. All 
 our nature must certainly rise up against this, even 
 in its own defence : the world, consequently, the 
 men who take nature, not grace, for their guide, 
 abhor the very sound of it. And the great enemy 
 of our souls, well knowing its importance, cannot 
 but move every stone against it. But this is not 
 all : even those, who have in some measure shaken 
 off the yoke of the devil, who have experienced 
 
BY THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 133 
 
 a real work of grace in their hearts, yet are no 
 friends to this grand doctrine of Christianity, 
 though it is so peculiarly insisted on by their 
 Master. Some of them are as deeply and totally 
 ignorant concerning it, as if there were not one 
 word about it in the Bible. Others are further 
 off still, having unawares imbibed strong preju- 
 dices against it. These they have received partly 
 from outside Christians ; men of a fair speech and 
 behaviour, who want nothing of godliness but the 
 power, nothing of religion but the spirit; and 
 partly from those who did once, if they do not 
 now, " taste of the powers of the world to come." 
 But, are there any of these who do not both prac- 
 tise self-denial themselves, and recommend it to 
 others ? You are little acquainted with mankind, 
 if you doubt of this. There are whole bodies of 
 men, who only do not declare war against it. To 
 go no further than ourown neighbourhood, I might 
 point out more than one body of Christians, pro- 
 fessing to enjoy a peculiar light of faith, few of 
 whom even profess to practise it all ; few of whom 
 either recommend it themselves, or are pleased with 
 with them that do. Rather, do they not continually 
 represent it in the most odious colours, as if it were 
 seeking " salvation by works," or " seeking to esta- 
 blish our own righteousness." Therefore, you are in 
 constant danger of being wheedled, hectored, or ridi- 
 culed out of this important gospel-doctrine, either 
 by false teachers, or false brethren, (more or less 
 beguiled from the simplicity of the gospel,) if you 
 are not deeply grounded therein. Let fervent 
 prayer then go before, accompany, and follow what 
 you are now about to read that it may be written 
 
134 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 in your heart by the finger of God, so as never to 
 be erased. 
 
 But what is self-denial ? Wherein are we to 
 deny ourselves? And whence does the necessity 
 of this arise ? I answer — the will of God is the 
 supreme, unalterable rule for every intelligent 
 creature ; equally binding every angel in heaven, 
 and every man upon earth. Nor can it be other- 
 wise ; this is the natural, necessary result of the 
 relation between creatures and their Creator. But 
 if the will of God be our one rule of action in every 
 thing, great and small, it follows by undeniable 
 consequence, that we are not to do our own will in 
 any thing. Here, therefore, we see at once the na- 
 ture, with the ground and reason of self-denial. 
 We see the nature of self-denial : it is the denying 
 or refusing to follow our own will, from a convic- 
 tion that the will of God is the only rule of action 
 to us. And we see the reason thereof, because we 
 are creatures ; ' because it is he that hath made us, 
 and not we ourselves.' 
 
 This reason for self-denial, must hold even 
 with regard to the angels of God in heaven ; and 
 with regard to man, innocent and holy as he came 
 out of the hands of his Creator. But a further rea- 
 son for it arises from the condition wherein all men 
 are since the fall. We are all now " shapen in 
 wickedness, and in sin did our mother conceive us." 
 Our nature is altogether corrupt, in every power 
 and faculty. And our will, depraved equally with 
 the rest, is wholly bent to indulge our natural cor- 
 ruption. On the other hand, it is the will of God 
 that we resist and counteract that corruption, not 
 at some times, or in some things only, but at ail 
 
BY THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 135 
 
 times, and in all things. Here, therefore, is a 
 further ground for constant and universal self-de- 
 nial. 
 
 To illustrate this a little further. The will of 
 God is a path leading straight to God. The will of 
 man, which once ran parallel with it, is now another 
 path, not only different from it, but, in our present 
 state, directly contrary to it: it leads from God. 
 If, therefore, we walk in the one, we must necessa- 
 sarily quit the other. We cannot walk in both. 
 Indeed, a man of faint heart and feeble hands may 
 go in two ways, one after the other. But he can- 
 not walk in two ways at the same time ; he cannot, 
 at one and the same time, follow his own will, and 
 follow the will of God : he must choose the one or 
 the other; denying God's will, to follow his own; 
 or denying himself, to follow the will of God. 
 
 Now, it is undoubtedly pleasing, for the time, 
 to follow our own will, by indulging, in any in- 
 stance that offers, the corruption of our nature. 
 But by following it in any thing, we so far strengthen 
 the perverseness of our will ; and by indulging it, 
 we continually increase the corruption of our na- 
 ture. So by the food, which is agreeable to the 
 palate, we often increase a bodily disease. It gra- 
 tifies the taste, but ft inflames the disorder. It 
 brings pleasure, but it also brings death. 
 
 On the whole, then, to deny ourselves, is, to 
 deny our own will, where it does not fall in with 
 the will of God, and that however pleasing it may 
 be. It is to deny ourselves any pleasure which 
 does not spring from, and lead to God : that is, in 
 effect, to refuse going out of our way, though into a 
 pleasant, flowery path ; to refuse what we know to 
 be deadlv poison, though agreeable to the taste. 
 
136 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 And every one that would follow Christ, that 
 would be his real disciple, must not only • deny 
 himself,' but 'take up his cross' also. A cross is any 
 thing contrary to our will, any thing displeasing 
 to our nature. So that taking up our cross ^goes a 
 little further than denying ourselves; it rises a lit- 
 tle higher, and is a more difficult task to flesh and 
 blood ; it being more easy to* forego pleasure than 
 to endure pain. 
 
 Now, in running the race which is set before 
 us, according to the will of God, there is often a 
 cross lying in the way ; that is, something which 
 is not only not joyous, but grievous; something 
 which is contrary to our will, which is displeasing 
 to our nature. What then is to be done ? The choice 
 is plain : either we must take up our cross, or we 
 must turn aside from the way of God — from the 
 holy commandment delivered to us ; if we do not 
 stop altogether, or turn back to everlasting perdition. 
 
 In order to the healing of that corruption, 
 that evil disease, which every man brings with him 
 into the world, it is often needful to pluck out, as 
 it were, a right eye, to cut off a right hand ; so 
 painful is either the thing itself which must be 
 done, or the only means of doing it : the parting, 
 suppose, with a foolish desire, with an inordinate 
 affection; or a separation from the object of it, 
 without which it can never be extinguished. In 
 the former kind, the tearing away such a desire or 
 affection, when it is deeply rooted in the soul, is 
 often like the piercing of a sword, yea, like ' the 
 dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, the joints 
 and marrow.' 1 The Lord then ■ sits* upon the soul 
 
 1 Heb. iv. 12. 
 
BY THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 137 
 
 'as a refiner's fire/ to burn up all the dross thereof 
 And this is a cross indeed ; it is essentially pain- 
 ful ; it must be so in the very nature of the thing. 
 The soul cannot be thus torn asunder, it cannot 
 pass through the fire, without pain. 
 
 In the latter kind, the means to heal a sin- 
 sick soul, to cure a foolish desire, an inordinate 
 affection, are often painful, not in the nature of the 
 thing, but from the nature of the disease. So 
 when our Lord said to the rich young man, e Go, 
 sell that thou hast, and give it to the poor,' (as 
 well knowing this was the only means of healing 
 his covetousness,) the very thought of it gave him 
 so much pain, that ' he went away sorrowful ;' 
 choosing rather to part with his hope of heaven, 
 than his possessions on earth. This was a burden 
 he could not consent to lift, a cross he would not 
 take up. And in the one kind, or the other, every 
 follower of Christ will surely have need to * take up 
 his cross daily.' 
 
 The taking up differs a little from bearing 
 his cross. We are then properly said to bear our 
 cross, when we endure what is laid upon us with- 
 out our choice, with meekness and resignation. 
 Whereas we do not properly take up our cross 
 but when we voluntarily suffer what is in our power 
 to avoid ; when we willingly embrace the will of 
 God, though contrary to our own ; when we choose 
 what is painful, because it is the will of our wise 
 and gracious Creator. 
 
 And thus it behoves every disciple of Christ to 
 ' take up,' as well as to bear his cross. Indeed, in 
 one sense, it is not his alone : it is common to him 
 and many others ; seeing * there is no temptation befals 
 any man, ki /iri avOpwirivog, but such as is common to 
 
138 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 men;' such as is incident and adapted to their 
 common nature and situation in the present world. 
 But in another sense, as it is considered with all its 
 circumstances, it is his; peculiar to himself: it is 
 prepared of- God for him; it is given by God to 
 him as a token of his love. And if he receives it 
 as such, and, after using such means to remove the 
 pressure as Christian wisdom directs, lies, as clay in 
 the potter's hand ; it is disposed and ordered by 
 God for his good, both with regard to the quality 
 of it, and in respect to its quantity and degree, its 
 duration, and every other circumstance. 
 
 In all this we may easily conceive our blessed 
 Lord to act as the physician of our souls, not 
 merely ' for his own pleasure, but for our profit, 
 that we may be partakers of his holiness.' x If in 
 searching our wounds, he puts us to pain, it is only 
 in order to heal them. He cuts away what is pu- 
 trefied or unsound, in order to preserve the sound 
 part. And if we freely choose the loss of a limb, 
 rather than that the whole body should perish, how 
 much more should we choose, figuratively, to cut 
 off a right hand, rather than that the whole soul 
 should be cast into hell ? 
 
 We see plainly, then,* both the nature and 
 ground of • taking up our cross.' It does not imply 
 the 'disciplining ourselves/ (as some speak,) the 
 literally tearing our own flesh ; the wearing hair- 
 cloth, or iron girdles, or any thing else that would 
 impair our bodily health; (although we know not 
 what allowance God may make for those who act 
 thus through involuntary ignorance;) but the em- 
 bracing the will of God, though contrary to our 
 
 » Heb. xii. 10. 
 
BY THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 139 
 
 own ; the choosing wholesome, though bitter medi- 
 cines; the freely accepting temporary pain, of 
 whatever kind, and in whatever degree, when it is 
 either essentially or accidentally necessary to eter- 
 nal pleasure. 
 
 II. I am, secondly, to show, that it is always 
 owing to the want either of self-denial, or taking 
 up his cross, that any man does not thoroughly 
 follow him, is not fully a disciple of Christ. 
 
 It is true, this may be partly owing, in some 
 cases, to the want of the means of grace ; of hear- 
 ing the true word of God spoken with power; of 
 the sacraments, or of Christian fellowship. But 
 where none of these is wanting, the great hin- 
 derance of our receiving, or growing in, the grace of 
 God, is always the want of denying ourselves, or 
 taking up our cross. 
 
 A few instances will make this plain. A 
 man hears the word, which is able to save his soul. 
 He is well pleased with what he hears, acknow- 
 ledges the truth, and is a little affected by it. Yet 
 he remains c dead in trespasses and sins/ senseless 
 and unawakened. Why is this ? Because he will 
 not part with his bosom sin, though he knows it is 
 an abomination to the Lord. He came to hear, 
 full of lust and unholy desires ; and he will not 
 part with them. Therefore, no deep impression 
 is made upon him ; but his foolish heart is still 
 hardened ; that is, he is still senseless and un- 
 awakened, because he will not deny himself. 
 
 Suppose he begins to awake out of sleep, and 
 his eyes are a little opened, why are they so 
 quickly closed again ? Why does he again sink 
 into the deep sleep of death ? Because he again 
 yields to his bosom sin ; he drinks again of the 
 
l40 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 pleasing poison ; therefore it is impossible that any 
 lasting impression should be made upon his heart; 
 that is, he relapses into his fatal insensibility, be- 
 cause he will not deny himself. 
 
 But this is not the case with all. We have 
 many instances of those who, when once awakened, 
 sleep no more. The impressions, once received, 
 do not wear away : they are not only deep, but 
 lasting. And yet, many of these have not found 
 what they seek : they mourn, and yet are not com- 
 forted. Now, why is this ? It is because they do 
 not ' bring forth fruits meet for repentance ;' l be- 
 cause they do not, according to the grace they 
 have received, ■ cease from evil, and do good.' They 
 do not cease from the easily-besetting sin ; the sin 
 of their constitution, of their education, or of their 
 profession. Or they omit doing the good they 
 may, and know they ought to do, because of some 
 disagreeable circumstance attending it; that is, 
 they do not attain faith, because they will not ' de- 
 ny themselves, or take up their cross/ 
 
 But this man did receive 'the heavenly gift; 
 he did *■ taste of the powers of the world to come.' 8 
 He saw ' the light of the glory of God, in the face 
 of Jesus Christ.* 3 The *"peace which passeth all 
 understanding,' did 'rule his heart and mind;' 4 and 
 the love of God was shed abroad therein by the 
 Holy Ghost which was given unto him.' 5 Yet he 
 is now weak as another man. He again relishes 
 the things of earth, and has more taste for the 
 things which are seen, than for those which are not 
 seen. The eye of his understanding is closed again, 
 
 1 Matt. iii. 8. * Heb. vi. 4, 5. 
 
 3 2 Cor. iv. 6. 4 Phil. iv. 7« 
 
 5 Rom. v. 5. 
 
BY THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 141 
 
 so that he cannot ' see him that is invisible.' l His 
 love is waxed cold, and the peace of God no longer 
 rules in his heart. And no marvel ; for he has 
 again given place to the devil, and grieved the 
 Holy Spirit of God. He has turned again unto 
 folly — to some pleasing sin ; if not in outward act, 
 yet in heart. He has given place to pride, or an- 
 ger, or desire, to self-will, or stubbornness. Or he 
 did not stir up the gift of God which was in him ; 
 he gave way to spiritual sloth, and would not be 
 at the pains of ' praying always, and watching 
 thereunto with all perseverance : ,s that is, he made 
 shipwreck of the faith, for want of self-denial and 
 taking up his cross daily. 
 
 But perhaps he has not made shipwreck of 
 the faith : he has still a measure of the Spirit of 
 adoption, which continues to witness with his spirit 
 that he is a child of God. However, he is not 
 1 going on to perfection ;' 3 he is not as one hungering 
 and thirsting after righteousness, panting after the 
 whole image and full enjoyment of God, as the 
 hart after the water-brook : * rather, he is weary and 
 faint in his mind, and, as it were, hovering be- 
 tween life and death. And why is he thus, but 
 because he hath forgotten the word of God ? — ' By 
 works is faith made perfect ?' He does not use all 
 diligence in working the works of God. He does not 
 * continue instant in prayer,' 5 private as well as pub- 
 lic; in communicating, hearing, meditation, fast- 
 ing, and religious conference. If he does not 
 wholly neglect some of these means, at least he 
 does not use them with all his might. Or he is 
 
 * Heb. xi. 27. * Eph. vi. 18. 3 Heb. vi. 1. 
 
 « Psalm xlii. 1. 5 Rom. xii. 12. 
 
142 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 not zealous of works of charity, as well as works of 
 piety. He is not merciful after his power, with 
 the full ability which God giveth. He does not 
 fervently serve the Lord, by doing good to men, in 
 every kind, and in every degree he can, to their 
 souls as their bodies. And why does he>not con- 
 tinue in prayer ? Because in times of dryness it 
 is pain and grief unto him. He does not continue 
 in hearing at all opportunities; because sleep is 
 sweet, or it is cold, or dark, or rainy. But why 
 does he not continue in works of mercy ? Because 
 he cannot feed the hungry, or clothe thie naked, 
 unless he retrench the expense of his own apparel, 
 or use cheaper and less pleasing food. Beside 
 which, the visiting the sick, or those that are in 
 prison, is attended with many disagreeable cir- 
 cumstances. And so are most works of spiritual 
 mercy; reproof in particular. He would reprove 
 his neighbour; but sometimes shame, sometimes 
 fear, comes between. For he may expose himself 
 not only to ridicule, but to heavier inconvenience 
 too. Upon these, and the like considerations, he 
 omits one or more, if not all works of mercy and 
 piety. Therefore, his faith is not made perfect, 
 neither can he grow in grace ; namely, because he 
 will not • deny himself, and take up his daily 
 cross.' 
 
 It manifestly follows, that it is always owing 
 to the want either of self-denial, or taking up his 
 cross, that a man does not thoroughly follow his 
 Lord, that he is not fully a disciple of Christ. It 
 is owing to this, that he, who is dead in sin, does 
 not awake, though the trumpet be blown ; that he, 
 who begins to awake out of sleep, yet has no deep 
 or lasting conviction ; that he, who is deeply and 
 
BY THE REV. JOHN WESLEY. 143 
 
 lastingly convinced of sin, does not attain re- 
 mission of sins ; that some who have received this 
 heavenly gift, retain it not, but make shipwreck of 
 the faith ; and that others, if they do not ' draw back 
 to perdition,' x yet are ' weary and faint in their 
 minds, ' * and do not reach the ■ mark of the prize 
 of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.' 3 
 
 III. How easily may we learn from hence, 
 that they ' knew neither the Scripture, nor the power 
 of God;' 4 who directly or indirectly in public or in 
 private, oppose the doctrine of self-denial and the 
 daily cross. How totally ignorant are these men 
 of a hundred particular texts, as well as of the ge- 
 neral tenor of the whole oracles of God ! And 
 how entirely unacquainted must they be with true, 
 genuine, Christian experience — of the manner 
 wherein the Holy Spirit ever did, and does at this 
 day, work in the souls of men ! They may talk 
 indeed very loudly and confidently, (a natural 
 fruit of ignorance,) as though they were the only 
 men who understood either the word of God, or 
 the experience of his children. But their words 
 are, in every sense, vain words ; they are weighed 
 in the balance, and found wanting. 
 
 We may learn from hence, secondly, the real 
 cause why not only many particular persons, but 
 even bodies of men, who were once burning and 
 shining lights, have now lost both their light and 
 heat. If they did not hate and oppose, they, at 
 least, lightly esteemed this precious gospel doctrine. 
 If they did not boldly say, Abnegationem omnem 
 proculcamus, internecioni damus ; " We trample 
 all self-denial under foot ; we devote it to destruc- 
 
 ! Heb. x. 39. ' Heb. xii. 3. 
 
 3 Phil. iii. 14. * Matt. xxii. S 
 
144 ON SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 tion : " yet they neither valued it according to its 
 high importance, nor took any pains in practising 
 it. Hanc mystici docent, said that great, bad man, 
 " The mystic writers teach self-denial." — No, the in- 
 spired writers. And God teaches it to every soul 
 who is willing to hear his yoice. 
 
 We may learn from hence, thirdly, that it is 
 not enough for a minister of the gospel not to op- 
 pose the doctrine of self-denial, to say nothing con- 
 cerning it. Nay, he cannot satisfy his duty, by 
 saying a little in favour of it. If he would indeed 
 be pure from the blood of all men, he must speak 
 of it, frequently and largely ; he must inculcate the 
 necessity of it in the clearest and strongest manner ; 
 he must press it with all his might, on all persons, at 
 all times, and in all places, laying Uine upon line, 
 line upon line, precept upon precept, precept 
 upon precept.' l So shall he have a conscience void 
 of offence ; so shall he save his own soul, and those 
 that hear him. 
 
 Lastly: see "that you apply this, every one of 
 you, to your own souls. Meditate upon it when 
 you are in secret : ponder it in your hearts. Take 
 care not only to understand it thoroughly, but to 
 remember it to your life's end. Cry unto the 
 strong for strength that you may no sooner under- 
 stand, than enter upon the practice of it. Delay 
 not the time, but practise it immediately, from this 
 very hour ; practise it universally, on every one of 
 the thousand occasions which will occur in all cir- 
 cumstances of life : practise it daily, without inter- 
 mission, from the hour you first set your hand to 
 the plough, and perseveringly endure therein to the 
 end, till your spirit return to God. 
 
 1 Is. xxviii, 10. 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 GOD'S END AND DESIGN IN 
 AFFLICTION. 
 
 BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGH TON. 
 
 [Robert Ldghton was bom in 1613. He was made bishop of Dumblatie in 1660; 
 in 1669 he was raised to the archiepiscopal see of Glasgow, from which he retired 
 ten years afterwards, and died in 1684.] 
 
SERMON VIII. 
 
 Hosea V. 15. 
 
 / will go and return to my place till they acknowledge 
 their offence, and seek my face : in their affliction 
 they will seek me early. • 
 
 There is nothing we more hardly learn, and 
 whereof we have more need to be taught, than to 
 judge aright concerning our own dealing with 
 God, and God's dealing with us ; to know and ac- 
 knowledge the perverseness and folly of our own 
 ways, and the wisdom and goodness of his ways. 
 Therefore, the sermons of the prophets insist much 
 on this, to convince the people of God, to whom 
 they were sent, of both these ; and by this, to per- 
 suade them to repentance. This is evidently here 
 the prophet's aim. The whole chapter, with the 
 following, contains a pathetic remonstrance of 
 God's just quarrel with his people, aggravated by 
 much long-suffering and lenity, and many warn- 
 ings, verbal and real, on his part, and much stub- 
 bornness, impenitence, and multiplied provocation 
 on theirs ; he using all means to reclaim and save 
 them, and they using all means to despise him and 
 ruin themselves. The plea is against both the 
 kingdoms of Israel and Judah. 
 
 l 2 
 
148 god's end and design in affliction. 
 
 In these words we have the Lord, after much 
 reasoning and trial of milder ways, which pre- 
 vailed not with them, concluding upon a severe 
 course, as being found necessary, and such as would 
 be more effectual for their conversion. The words 
 contain these three things : I. The procuring cause 
 of God's afflicting his people. II. His way of 
 afflicting them. III. The end of it. 
 
 I. The procuring cause is made up of these two, 
 sin and impenitence. ' I will go till they acknow- 
 ledge their offences. , So that, if they had not 
 committed those provoking sins, or, having com- 
 mitted them, had humbly acknowledged or re- 
 pented of them, this labour of afflicting them had 
 been saved ; but these sins once committed and 
 often repeated, and their being not so much as once 
 acknowledged, and all this by God's own peculiar 
 people, cannot but draw on heavy afflictions. 
 
 1st. We may see how unwilling God is to afflict 
 his people. Judgments are termed ' his strange 
 work,' but mercy is his darling attribute. When 
 God exercises punitive acts against his people, the 
 Scripture represents, as it were, a kind of reluctance 
 and struggling within him. ' How shall I smite 
 thee, O Ephraim ? And how shall I give thee up 
 O Manasseh ? My repentings are begun already.' * 
 He delights in their prosperity, and hath given 
 them a rule, by which if they walk, peace shall be 
 upon them. He hath made them laws, the observ- 
 ance of which will bring heaps of blessings upon 
 them ; as we find what a multitude of favours at- 
 tended it. 'I will give you rain in due season;' 
 and a little after, 'I will give you peace in the 
 
 1 Hob. xi. 8. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 149 
 
 land, and ye shall lie down, and none shall make 
 you afraid. I will walk among you, I will be your 
 God, and ye shall be my people.' ■ So, also Deut. 
 xxvii. 1 — 12. But, those laws not being observed, 
 then, it is said, * The Lord shall make the rain of 
 thy land powder and dust ; the Lord shall cause 
 thee 'to be smitten before thine enemies,' 5 &c. But 
 what is all that when opposed to the affliction here 
 threatened, of God's withdrawing himself? ■ I 
 will go and return to my place, till they acknow- 
 ledge their offence.' He will not leave them, un- 
 less they drive him away ; yea, and he is even then 
 loath to leave them, and grieved that they are such 
 enemies to themselves, and will not be persuaded 
 to be better advised. 
 
 2dly. We see where the true blame of the many 
 sufferings and miseries of the church is to be found. 
 The abounding of sin, and the want of repentance, 
 these make her troubles to abound. If God's own 
 people would take his counsel, it would be well 
 for them ; either his first counsel of obedience, or 
 his after counsel of repentance. When they are 
 running from him, he calls after them, 'Return, 
 return, O backsliding Israel, why will ye die ?' 
 ' Thou hast destroyed thyself,' says the Lord 
 by the same prophet, 'but in me is thy help.' 3 
 His counsel and ways would be peace, but their 
 afflictions and sharp punishments are the fruit of 
 their own ways; bitter fruit and wormwood, a 
 root of bitterness. 4 Doth not the preaching of 
 the word, and particularly the doctrine of repent- 
 ance, sufficiently witness for God, and against his 
 
 • Levit. xxvi. 4 12. 2 Deut. 24. 
 
 Hos. xiii. 9. * Prov. v. 9 ; Jer. ii. 19. 
 
150 GOD'S END AND DliSIGN IN AFFLICTION. 
 
 people, when their rebellion brings calamities 
 upon them ? The often repeated warnings and 
 entreaties, even to those who have often slighted 
 and despised them, show how unwillingly he 
 afflicts us. He does not surprise them, without 
 warnings multiplied one upon another. Before he 
 would proceed to treat them as enemies, to hew 
 and slay them with the sword, he uses his messen- 
 gers of peace to deal first with the word, sharply 
 indeed, but graciously, (that sword of the Spirit 
 which kills to make alive,) to spare, if it might be, 
 the destroying sword of the enemy. * I have hewn 
 them by my prophets ;' ' and if that would have 
 served their turn, the other hewing and slaying 
 should not have followed. A wise enemy, who is 
 resolved to be avenged, conceals his rage till it be 
 accomplished, and does not threaten before he 
 strikes, but makes the execution of his purpose the 
 first revealing of it. Therefore, we may know that 
 God, who doth all things most wisely, intends 
 favour in threatening ; denounces indignation that 
 he n ay be interrupted. Not to inflict it, that is 
 his desire. He would gladly have us stay his 
 hand. A humble, penitent acknowledgment will 
 do it. * He threatens that he may not strike, 
 and strikes that he may not destroy/'* If speak- 
 ing either mildly or sharply, will prevail with 
 his children, he will not stir the rod to them : 
 and when the rod is in his hand, if showing or 
 shaking it will serve the turn, he will not strike 
 with it. But this is our folly, that usually we 
 abuse all this goodness, and will not part with our 
 sins, till we smart for them, and be beaten from 
 
 1 Hob. vi. 5. * Minatur ne ccedat, coedit ne occidat. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 151 
 
 them. We pull punishment out of God's hand ; 
 as Solomon says, 'The fool's mouth calleth for 
 strokes.' 1 When these indulgent ways that the , 
 Lord uses avail nothing, then, as a physician 
 wearied in striving with lenitives and gentle medi- 
 cines, in a fixed, stubborn disease that yields not to 
 them, it is no wonder that he betake himself to 
 sharper remedies, and cut and burn, if need be, 
 that he may cure. The Lord's complaint, in the 
 beginning of the seventh chapter of this prophecy, 
 sounds this way : ' When I would have healed 
 Ephraim.' If it be thus, then, with the church of 
 God, that it is often found guilty of great sins, and, 
 withal, great insensibleness and impenitence, it is 
 no wonder that it is often found under great and 
 many afflictions. There being in the church, in 
 such societies as profess God's name, peculiar sins, 
 such as are found nowhere else, by reason of God's 
 peculiar covenant with them, and ordinances among 
 them ; viz. contempt of the ordinances, and breach 
 of the covenant ; and, by the same reason too, pe- 
 culiar aggravations of the common sins, and ingre- 
 dients of such things as make the same sins that 
 other people commit, to be of a deeper dye among 
 God's people ; their special relation to him, and the 
 special means and mercies they receive from him, 
 by which they are both more instructed and more 
 obliged to obedience ; these things make the dis- 
 obedience more heinous in itself, and more offensive 
 to God. He cannot but take it very ill to be dis- 
 regarded by his own: Kcu av tekvov. Thus the 
 Lord makes a great and loud complaint that all 
 may hear ; calls heaven and earth to hear it, that 
 
 1 Prov. xviii. 6. 
 
152 god's end and design in affliction. 
 
 he had % nourished and brought up children, and 
 they had rebelled against him." What do we de- 
 serve for our sins ? Do not our oaths and cursing, 
 our pride and deceit, our wonderful ignorance and 
 profaneness, our formality, hypocrisy, and, above 
 all, our deep security, threaten us with some heavy 
 judgment ? Which cannot be avoided but by godly 
 sorrow and earnest prayer, by the most humble 
 way of acknowledgment and real amendment. This 
 is our work at this time ; and, unless we set about 
 it for ourselves, and pray for it to our brethren, we 
 know not what we are doing. We cannot do any 
 thing to purpose in behalf of the church of God, 
 nor be fit supplicants for its deliverance, whilst we 
 remain ungodly ourselves. 
 
 II. God's way of afflicting his people: 'I will go 
 and return to my place.' The way that he will 
 afflict them is indeed the heaviest, as conveyed in 
 this expression : as if he should say, I will with- 
 draw myself from them, and will not appear to 
 them at all for a time, yea, a long time. Well may 
 it be rendered by ■ affliction' in the other clause, for 
 they shall be truly so when the Lord is gone from 
 them. Upon the withdrawing of his gracious pre- 
 sence, as necessarily follows affliction, as mist upon 
 the setting of the sun. This was heavier than all 
 his corrections. So long as they could but hear 
 and see him amongst them, although it were 
 chiding, yea, scourging them, yet, still there was 
 this comfort, that they might speak to him as being 
 near him, and so, considering his merciful nature, 
 might have hope, by their complaints and cries in 
 his presence, to move him to compassionate and 
 
 ■ Isaiah, i. 2. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 153 
 
 spare them, and be reconciled. But when lie was 
 out of sight and quite gone from them, and so 
 could neither hear nor see them in their misery, 
 this was indeed the chief misery, worse thjin all 
 that they could suffer in other punishments. In 
 the preceding verses, he threatens to be as a moth 
 to them, consuming them, though more slowly and 
 insensibly; which was by lesser judgments that 
 befel these kingdoms, as the history of them shows: 
 then, as a lion, devouring more suddenly : but the 
 gradation rises to the highest in this last, though to 
 an ignorant creature it sounds least: ? I will return 
 to my place.' I will retire my favourable presence 
 from them, and shut up all the influences and evi- 
 dences of my grace. Which, in a public, national 
 sense, (as here it is to be taken,) imports, not only 
 longer and more grievous troubles than any which 
 before had befallen them, (as indeed they were,) but 
 God's leaving of them in those troubles, and not giv- 
 ing, as before, any sign of his merciful presence. As 
 if God should say, T will give them up to those mise- 
 ries that are to come upon them, and leave them to 
 themselves and to their cruel enemies, and will 
 take no notice of them, until they know what a 
 grievous thing the want of my presence is, and 
 how hateful their sins are, that have deprived them 
 of it, and so be stirred up to seek my face ; — they 
 would not regard me, either in my word or in my 
 works, whether of mercy or of judgment, so long as 
 I stayed with them, was present amongst them : — 
 that so I may teach them to know what is the good 
 of my presence, by the evil of my absence, which 
 is a heavier judgment than all I have yet inflicted 
 on them. 
 
 And as it is thus in relation to the public condi- 
 
154 GODS END AND DESIGN IN AFFLICTION. 
 
 tion of the church, so is it, in a personal and more 
 spiritual sense, to a child of God. No evil he fears 
 so much, or feels so heavy, as God's absenting and 
 withdrawing himself in displeasure; nor is there 
 any good that he will admit to be compared with 
 the light of God's countenance. Let others seek 
 any good, let them have any good they can, but, 
 says David, for himself and all the godly, the good 
 we seek, is this and no other, • Lord, lift upon us 
 the light of thy countenance.' l He can hear of 
 any distress with courage and resolution, but this 
 he cannot endure to hear of, but deprecates it, 
 * hide not thy face from thy servant.' A godly 
 man may, in the most prosperous condition, have 
 much concern if the face of God be hid from him. 
 That is his great affliction, as it is here called. 
 There needs nothing else to damp all his pros- 
 perity. * Thou didst hide thy face, and I was 
 troubled.' * Even in prosperity, riches and power, 
 and other such poor things, do not answer the de- 
 sires of a soul acquainted with God : all these are 
 nothing without his favour shining on them : no, 
 nor the graces which are within them, which are 
 far more precious than all outward things. The 
 displeased withdrawing of God's countenance, 
 makes a sad night amid all these; as, when the sun 
 is absent, it is night still, notwithstanding all the 
 stars. Although God lay outward affliction on 
 them, yet, if he enlighten them, though in a dun- 
 geon, they can rejoice. Yea, when they are in- 
 wardly troubled for sin, and God is rebuking them 
 that way, yet, that is not so bad as when he leaves 
 them and ' returns to his place.' This is more griev- 
 
 ' Psalm iv. 6. * Ibid. xxx. J. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 155 
 
 ous than when he chides and rebukes them, which 
 he may do, and yet, not in * hot displeasure,' as 
 David teaches us to distinguish it. 1 It is a more 
 comfortable condition, that he stay with them, and 
 that he reprove them when they sin, (yea, that is a 
 mercy,) than that he leave them, and speak not to 
 them, nor suffer them to speak to him. They would 
 then desire rather to find him present though cor- 
 recting; for then, by speaking to him, they may 
 express their repentance and requests to him fbr 
 pardon. They would say to God, ' Strike me, but 
 hear me ;' rather than be struck out from all inter- 
 course with him, and he hold them as his enemies. 
 And thus God may sometimes deal with his own, 
 and particularly for some notable offence, until 
 they be duly humbled and brought to a lowly ac- 
 knowledgment, and so, to seek his face again ; to 
 see if they will be loath to grieve him again 
 
 Though we all profess to know God, yet, the 
 greatest part of us are so far from duly esteeming 
 him, that we do not at all know what the spiritual, 
 gracious presence of God is ; how sweet the enjoy- 
 ment", and how bitter and sad the deprivement. 
 Oh, be desirous to understand and know this highest 
 good, and, above all things, seek to enjoy it. A.nc 
 without doubt, the "experience of it will persuade 
 you to prize it and entertain it carefully; never 
 willingly to grieve and drive away so great and so 
 good a guest, who brings true happiness along 
 with him to those with whom he dwells. There is 
 solid peace, and there only, where he is. And for 
 the church of God, what other thing can we, yea, 
 what need we desire but this, as the assured help of 
 
 1 Psalm vi. 1 
 
156 god's end and design in affliction, 
 
 all her distresses and sorrows, that God would re 
 turn his gracious presence to her again ? Then 
 shall her enemies be turned backward, and she 
 shall sing and rejoice in the God of her salvation. 
 You see, this is the church's own prayer : ' she de- 
 sires no more than this, * Cause thy face to shine ; 
 and we shall be safe.' That is the only sun which 
 chases away the mist of her griefs and troubles. 
 So then, the ending of these' confusions we are 
 lying and labouring under, is wrapped up in this ; 
 that the presence of our God be both entreated and 
 obtained. This would make a sweet union of 
 hearts, and make all attempts prosperous, and 
 strike a terror into the church's enemies. But if 
 their Rock forsake them, were they never so surely 
 supported with other advantages, yet shall they 
 sink and fall. If he * go to his place/ and shut up 
 his power and wisdom from their help, and leave 
 them with themselves, this shall suffice to undo 
 them, without any enemy. It was sad news, not 
 only to Moses, but to the whole people ; notwith- 
 standing they were bent to provoke him to do so, 
 it was very grievous for them to hear, that he had 
 refused them his own guidance, and would with- 
 draw himself from them, although it was with the 
 promise of an angel to lead them ; for little can 
 any possible supply be made by any creature to 
 make up that loss. It was indeed high time for 
 them to put off their ornaments, and be humbled, 
 when their great ornament and their great strength 
 was gone from them in displeasure. Then they 
 put off their garbs of war, and appeared in the pe- 
 nitential dress of sackcloth and ashes.* 
 
 1 Psalm lxxx. 3. 2 Exod. xxxiii. 4 — 6. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 157 
 
 III. The end of GocT-s thus afflicting his people. 
 And we have these two things to consider in it, both 
 here clearly expressed ; 1st, God's intention in the 
 means; 2dly, The power of these means for effect- 
 ing it. * I will go till they acknowledge their 
 offences and seek my face/ and, in the time of my 
 absence, which will certainly be the time of their 
 heaviest affliction, ' they will seek me early.' 
 
 1. This is God's end in scourging his people : it 
 is only to bring them to a sorrow for their offences, 
 and an ingenuous confession of it. And if he 
 withdraw himself, it is not to leave them for ever 
 and look at them no more. On the contrary, it is, 
 that they may learn whether it is better to enjoy 
 him, or their sins; and that, finding themselves 
 miserable without him, they may leave those sins 
 with which he will not dwell, and may come and 
 entreat his return to them ; which he is willing, 
 being entreated to grant them. And this he re- 
 moves from them, that, on their return to him, and 
 their earnest and humble seeking of his return to 
 them, they may find him, and enjoy more of his 
 presence than before, and learn to keep it better. 
 He throws his people into the furnace, and goes 
 away, and leaves them there ; yet, it is not to let 
 them lie still there, but he is skilful in this work, 
 and knows the time needful for their refining, and 
 then returns and takes them out. His purpose is, 
 to purge away the dross, but he will not lose the 
 gold. ' By this shall the iniquity of Jacob be 
 purged, and this will serve to take away his sin.' l 
 As that sin was the meriting cause of the affliction, 
 it clears God's justice ; the end he aims at, when 
 
 1 Isaiah, xxvii. 9. 
 
158 god's end and design in affliction. 
 
 he declares his graciousness and mercy to his peo- 
 ple, being no other than this, to destroy the merit- 
 ing cause of the affliction, by their trouble ; to 
 take away that sin which procured it, and then to 
 give them peace. That is his design. He takes no 
 pleasure in their affliction for itself, more than they 
 themselves do. Indeed, in punishing his enemies, 
 there is pure justice : their punishments are not for 
 a better end, so far as concerns them, but are ap- 
 pointed to torment them. But to his own people 
 his purpose is, by afflicting them, only to draw 
 them from theii sins, which drive him away from 
 them. And as we see in this the bounty of God, 
 so it instructs us, for our own practice, in the just 
 way both of preventing trouble to ourselves that it 
 come not, and of removing it if it be come upon us. 
 Is this the thing God seeks in punishing us, a 
 sense and acknowledgment of sin committed ? 
 Then, if we give him his end, he will not at all 
 needlessly make use of the means. If, therefore, 
 we either carefully shun sinful provocations, or, 
 being guilty, speedily return and humble ourselves 
 before him, he will not enter into displeasure 
 against us ; he will be appeased towards us. And 
 on our seeing that which is his intent in punishing, 
 before he begins to punish, he is very well pleased 
 to be thus prevented. So then, if either we follow 
 the advice of the psalmist, ' Stand in awe and sin 
 not,' ' or that other which follows, that we ' examine 
 our hearts' concerning sin, before the decree of pu- 
 nishment go forth, or be put in execution on our 
 guiltiness, pronouncing ourselves guilty, (as the 
 word is here in the text,) which is indeed acknow- 
 
 1 Psalm iv. 4. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 159 
 
 lodging our offences — this is the way to prevent it; 
 and, if it be begun upon us, this is the ready way 
 to remove it, for this is the end of it. When the 
 Lord sees his children grieved for their offences and 
 entreating pardon, he is a tender-hearted father, 
 the very • Father of mercies.' Those confessions 
 and prayers that his children utter, enter his pater- 
 nal ears; the rod falls out of his hand, and he turns 
 his stripes into embraces, and his frowns into 
 smiling. There may be, indeed, a confused cry 
 from the sense of the smart, without repentance, 
 that moves him not. As he directs parents in cor- 
 recting a peevish child, ' Thou shalt not spare for 
 his crying,' ' so, he himself doth not spare nor leave 
 off for that kind of crying. It is confession and 
 submission that he seeks, not the howling and 
 complaining which nature draws from any under 
 sharp affliction. This, the Lord complains of in his 
 people, by the same prophet. * They did not cry 
 unto me with their hearts ; they only howled upon 
 their beds.'* A man that is upon the rack for 
 extorting confession will cry and roar when he 
 confesses nothing ; but it is not that which is 
 sought of him; pain forces him to that : it is con- 
 fession; and when he begins the least word of that, 
 they presently stay and release him. Thus it was 
 with David, and he tells it us, and distinguishes 
 these two expressly. 3 He tells us of his ' roaring' 
 under the hand of God, but that did no good : he 
 found no ease by that, so long as he kept silence 
 from this confession. But as soon as he began, or 
 did but offer at acknowledgment, one word of con- 
 
 Prov. xix. 18. * Hos. viL 14. 
 
 a Psalm xxxil. 3—5. 
 
160 god's end and design in affliction. 
 
 fession, yea, the promise of it, brought him the re- 
 lease that a whole day's roaring could not obtain. 
 *I roared all day long,' but thou helpedst me not; 
 still ' thy hand continued heavy upon me.' But I 
 ' acknowledged my sin ; I said, I would confess 
 my transgression, and thou forgavest the iniquity 
 of my sin.' 
 
 Now, to the end we may confess aright, there 
 must be a searching of our hearts for our sins, and 
 for some particular one or more which God's afflic- 
 tions aim at. And, first, if we cannot easily find 
 it out, consider the nature of the affliction. Se- 
 condly, seek the knowledge of it from God, who 
 will readily, when he corrects his children, tell 
 them what fault it is. Thirdly, however, finding so 
 many, be sure to spare none pf them, and then ye 
 cannot but fall on the main one which breedeth 
 you trouble. 
 
 2. The other thing here concerning the end of 
 affliction, is, the efficacy of the means for reaching 
 it: 'In their affliction they will seek me early.' 
 It had been early, in a wiser sense, to have sought 
 to him for a reconcilement before the affliction ; 
 but here it expresses a most diligent seeking, ac- 
 cording to the original word ; for things that men 
 are earnest upon, they will be early stirring to set 
 about. For, besides that is a certain prophecy of 
 what was to come to pass in this people, it hath in 
 it *his general truth, with which it agrees ; to wit, 
 the moral fitness of great affliction to work this dili- 
 gent seeking of God, before neglected, and acknow- 
 ledgment of sin, before unfelt ; which is expressed in 
 the former clause. Together with seeking his face, 
 there must be the sense and acknowledgment of 
 sin. There is no returning to him, but from it. 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. 161 
 
 In following sin, we depart from God, and by for- 
 saking it, we return to him. These are insepara- 
 ble ; they are but one motion. It was their sin 
 made him leave them and go to his place ; and 
 therefore it were in vain to seek him, retaining it, 
 for that would drive him further from them. 
 
 Now, affliction is apt to bring men to this ; such, 
 I mean, as have any knowledge of God. Although 
 they be not converted, yet, it works them to a tem- 
 porary fit of returning and seeking God, such as 
 they are capable of. And those make up the 
 greatest part in the public humblings of a nation, 
 or any multitude of people, having most of them 
 no more heat of devotion and desire of God, than 
 the fit of present affliction works; and therefore, 
 when that ceases, they have done likewise with 
 their repentance and regard of God. Being stirred 
 only by that outward principle, they act no longer 
 that way, than while they acted by it. Water will 
 be very hot, yea, boil and make a noise, when it is 
 upon the fire; but set it off, and it returns, within 
 a while, to its natural coldness. Thus it was often 
 with the same people. See Psalm Ixxviii. And 
 there are still daily too many instances of it. Yet 
 the Lord, to show how much regard he hath to re- 
 pentance, lets not the very semblance of it go to 
 loss. He is pleased, for the repressing of sin, and 
 the purging of his church of gross and scandalous 
 profaneness, to make use of public afflictions to 
 work in many even this kind of repentance, and to 
 answer this repentance with the removal of the 
 affliction that wrought it. With God's own chil- 
 dren, this method holds in a way peculiar to them. 
 They may, indeed, as well as others, sometimes 
 stand in need of the rod for their bettering, and it 
 
 M 
 
162 god's end and design in affliction 
 
 may work it, but there is this difference ; their griet 
 for sin and seeking after God, do not wholly de- 
 pend on the lash ; they are constant in these things, 
 as having a living principle within them ; whence 
 they show, in all estates, that sin is to them the 
 greatest grief, and the favour of God the greatest good. 
 Again, when they are surprised with sin, and pos- 
 sibly fall into a fit of security, and must be awaked 
 by some affliction, and it is sent for that purpose, 
 that renewing which it works in them, is not, as in 
 others, a mere present violent motion only, from 
 the impulse of the affliction, but it is real and in- 
 ward from the grace which is in them, awaked and 
 only set on work by the correction ; and therefore 
 it is more abiding than the other. There is in 
 them a special love to God, .working their repent- 
 ings and returning under the sense of his hand. 
 And it is from God's special love to them, which 
 others share not in, that he stirs them urrto renew 
 repentance, and upon their repentance takes off 
 affliction, and shows himself graciously reconciled 
 to them. To some, likewise, it may be, that God 
 may use some particular cross, as a partial and 
 concurring means to the work of their repentance 
 and conversion to God. But, however, there is in 
 that, some peculiar love of God, and that effectual 
 working of his word and Spirit to beget grace in 
 them, by which afflictions are sanctioned and made 
 useful to excite and awaken grace where it is. 
 
 Now, in all these different ways, affliction is apt 
 for this effect : 1st. Because it sets men in upon 
 themselves, calls in their thoughts, which, in a fair 
 season, more readily dissipate and scatter them- 
 selves abroad. As they observe, that much light 
 disqualifies the sight of the mind, as well as that of 
 
BY ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. ► 163 
 
 the body, and that in the dark, men's thoughts are 
 more united and deep ; thus, in the darkness of af- 
 fliction, we feel readily more inwards, and that ac- 
 quaints us better with ourselves and our sins, and 
 so tends to the first of these two, the acknowledging 
 of our offences. Besides, the particular respect we 
 speak of, is often betwixt the kind of affliction and 
 our own sins. 
 
 2dly. When a man is driven by force from the 
 comforts of the world, which he used to hinge 
 upon, especially by some great affliction which 
 breaks him off from them all, then, if behave any 
 thoughts concerning God, those begin to work with 
 him. He bethinks himself for no other way of 
 help, but thinks, Could I obtain the Lord to be- 
 friend me, and show me his favour, that were 
 enough. He could deliver me out of this distress, 
 and in the mean time support me under it. True, 
 I have provoked him, and, which is heavier than 
 all my other troubles, I have made him mine 
 enemy; yet, I know he is very compassionate and 
 gracious, therefore T will go to him, and confess 
 my offence, and I trust he will pardon me. This 
 is the other thing, the seeking of his face. So, 
 affliction hath something in it suitable to the work 
 of both. As we see, the lost son by his distress 
 came to himself, and then resolved to return to his 
 father. Indeed, when a man is straitened on all 
 hands by a crowd of troubles, and finds no way 
 out, then he finds his only way is upward. We 
 know not what to do, but our eyes are towards 
 thee. The Israelites went before to other helpers ; 
 they are reproved for it ;' but when once convinced 
 
 ' Verse 13. 
 
 M 2 
 
lt)4 god's end and design in affliction. 
 
 of that folly, no more of any such way, but, as fol- 
 lows in the next words containing a description of 
 their purposes, ' Come, let us return to the Lord 
 our God,' they acknowledge him as the just in- 
 flicter of these calamities : ' he hath torn/ and ' he 
 hath smitten.' Not a word of Salmanazer or Ne- 
 buchadnezzar, but their offended God is their 
 smiter, and so, no recourse to other powers for this 
 deliverance, but, ■ Let us return to him ; he will 
 heal us.' Oh, then, let us all be persuaded to re- 
 pentance. And certainly, all they who do truly 
 mind the honour of God, and the good of his 
 church, will not be negligent at such a time as this. 
 I trust, that God who heareth prayer, will have re- 
 gard to their prayers and his own glory. Amen. 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 BY DR. BARROW. 
 
 (Isaac Barrow was born in 1630. In 1672 he was made master of Trtaitf 
 College, Cambridge, and died in 16770 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 Luke, xxii. 42. 
 
 Nevertheless let not my will, but thine, be done. 
 
 The great controversy, managed with such earn- 
 estness and obstinacy between God and man, is 
 this — whose will shall take place, his or ours. Al- 
 mighty God, by whose constant protection and 
 great mercy we subsist, doth claim to himself the 
 authority of regulating our practice, and disposing 
 our fortunes ; but we affect to be our own masters 
 and carvers ; not willingly admitting any law, not 
 patiently brooking any condition, which doth not 
 sort with our fancy and pleasure : to make good 
 his right, God bendeth all his forces, and applieth 
 all proper means both of sweetness and severity ; 
 (persuading us by arguments, soliciting us by en- 
 treaties, alluring us by fair promises, scaring us by 
 fierce menaces, indulging ample benefits to us, in- 
 flicting sore corrections on us, working in us and 
 upon us by secret influences of grace, by visible 
 dispensations of providence;) yet so it is, that 
 
168 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 commonly nothing doth avail, our will opposing 
 itself with invincible resolution and stiffness. 
 
 Here indeed the business pincheth ; herein as 
 the chief worth, so the main difficulty of religious 
 practice consisteth, in bending that iron sinew ; in 
 bringing our proud hearts to stoop, and our sturdy 
 humours to buckle, so as to surrender and resign 
 our wills to the just, the wise, the gracious will of 
 our God, prescribing our duty, and assigning our 
 lot unto us. We may accuse our nature, but it is 
 our pleasure — we may pretend weakness, but it is 
 wilfulness, which is the guilty cause of our misde- 
 meanours; for by God's help (which doth always 
 prevent our needs, and is never wanting to those 
 who seriously desire it) we may be as good as we 
 please, if we can please to be good. 1 There is no- 
 thing within us that can resist, if our wills do yield 
 themselves up to duty : to conquer our reason is 
 not hard ; for what reason of man can withstand 
 the infinite cogency of those motives, which in- 
 duce to obedience ? What can be more easy, than 
 by a thousand arguments, clear as day, to con- 
 vince any man, that to cross God's will is the 
 greatest absurdity in the world, and that there is no 
 madness comparable thereto? 2 Nor is it difficult, 
 if we resolve upon it, to govern any other part or 
 power of our nature ; for what cannot we do, if we 
 are willing? what inclination cannot we check, 
 what appetite cannot we restrain, what passion 
 cannot we quell or moderate ? what faculty of our 
 soul, or member of our body is not obsequious to 
 
 1 Chrys. torn. vi. Or. 12, in 1 Cor.' Or. 17, torn. v. Or. 
 28, 43. 
 
 * Sen. de Ira, ii. 12. 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 169 
 
 our will? Even half the resolution with which 
 we pursue vanity and sin, would serve to engage 
 us in the ways of wisdom and virtue. 
 
 "Wherefore in overcoming our will the stress 
 lieth : this is that impregnable fortress, which ever- 
 lastingly doth hold out against all the batteries of 
 reason and of grace ; which no force of persuasion, 
 no allurement of favour, no discouragement of ter- 
 ror can reduce : this puny, this impotent thing it 
 is, which grappleth with Omnipotency, and often 
 in a manner baffleth it. And no wonder; for that 
 God doth not intend to overpower our will, or to 
 make any violent impression on it, but only to 
 ' draw it (as it is in the Prophet, 1 ) with the cords 
 of a man/ or by rational inducements to win its 
 consent and compliance : our service is not so con- 
 siderable to him, that he should extort it from us ; 
 nor doth he value our happiness at so low a rate, as 
 to obtrude it on us. His victory indeed were no 
 true victory over us, if he should gain it by main 
 force, or without the concurrence of our will : our 
 works not being our works, if they do not issue 
 from our will ; and our will not being our will, if 
 it be not free ; to compel it were to destroy it, to- 
 gether with all the worth of our virtue and obedi- 
 ence. Wherefore the Almighty doth suffer him- 
 self to be withstood, and beareth repulses from us ; 
 nor commonly doth he master our will otherwise, 
 than by its own spontaneous conversion and sub- 
 mission to him : if ever we be conquered, as we 
 shall share in the benefit, and wear a crown ; so 
 we must join in the combat, and partake of the 
 victory, by subduing ourselves : ' we must take the 
 
 1 Hosea, xi. 4. 
 
170 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 yoke upon us;' for God is only served by volun- 
 teers; he summoneth us by his word, he attracteth 
 us by his grace, but we must * freely come unto 
 him.' l 
 
 Our will indeed of all things is most our own — 
 the only gift, the most "proper sacrifice we have to 
 offer; which therefore God doth chiefly desire, 
 doth most highly prize, doth most kindly accept 
 from us. Seeing then our duty chiefly moveth on 
 this hinge, the free submission and resignation of 
 our will to the will of God ; it is this practice, 
 which our Lord (who came to guide us in the way 
 to happiness, not only as a teacher by his word 
 and excellent doctrine, but as a leader, by his ac- 
 tions and perfect example) did especially set before 
 us ; as in the constant tenor of his life, so particu- 
 larly in that great exigency which occasioned 
 these words, wherein, renouncing and deprecating 
 his own will, he did express an entire submission 
 to God's will, a hearty complacence therein, and a 
 serious desire that it might take place. 
 
 For the fuller understanding of which case, we 
 may consider, that our Lord, as partaker of our 
 nature, and, ' in all things (bating sin) like unto 
 us,' had a natural human will, attended with 
 senses, appetites, and affections, apt from objects 
 incident to receive congruous impressions of plea- 
 sure and pain ; so that whatever is innocently 
 grateful and pleasant to us, that he relished with 
 delight, and thence did incline to embrace ; what- 
 ever is distasteful and afflictive to us, that he re- 
 sented with grief, and thence was moved to es- 
 
 1 'Enst tuto § dvra faaGaWu to. ayaSa el fir) Toiavrr] 
 avribv e<riv rj Qvaig, cjq fy Ikovtoq irpoaSpafjitZv, k, %agiv 
 ?X«v iroWriv.— Chrys. in 1 Cor. Orat. 2. 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 171 
 
 chew. To this probably he was liable in a degree 
 beyond our ordinary rate ; for that in him nature 
 was most perfect, his complexion very delicate, his 
 temper exquisitely sound and fine ; for so we find, 
 that by how much any man's constitution is more 
 sound, by so much he hath a smarter gust of what 
 is agreeable or offensive. If this be deemed weak- 
 ness, it is a weakness connected with our nature, 
 which he therewith did take, and ■ with which (as 
 the apostle saith) ' he was encompassed.' 1 Such a 
 will our Lord had, and it was requisite that he 
 should have it, that he thence might be qualified 
 to discharge the principal instances of obedience, 
 for procuring God's favour to us, and for setting an 
 exact pattern before us; for God imposing on him 
 duties to perform, and dispensing accidents to en- 
 dure, very cross to that natural will, in his com 
 pliance and acquiescence thereto his obedience 
 was thoroughly tried; his virtue did shine most 
 brightly; therefore (as the apostle saith) '■ he was 
 in all points tempted ;' 2 thence, as to meritorious 
 capacity, and exemplary influence, • he was per- 
 fected through suffering.' 3 
 
 Hence was the whole course of his life and con- 
 versation among men, so designed, so modelled, as 
 to be one continual exercise of thwarting that hu- 
 man will, and closing with the divine pleasure : it 
 was predicted of him, ' Lo, I come to do thy will, O 
 God ;' 4 and of himself he affirmed, * I came down 
 from heaven not to do my own will, but the will of 
 him that sent me ; ,5 whereas therefore such a prac- 
 
 1 'Eirtl icf avroQ 7repifcarat aoSkvuav. — Heb. V. 2. 
 
 « Heb. iv. 15. 3 lb. ii. 10, 18. 
 
 4 Heb. x. 7 ; Psalm xl. 7- 
 
 * John, vi. 38 ; v. 30 ; iv. 34. 
 
172 ON SUBMESSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 tice is little seen in achieving easy matters, or in 
 admitting pleasant occurrences ; it was ordered for 
 him, that he should encounter the roughest diffi- 
 culties, and be engaged in circumstances most 
 harsh to natural apprehension and appetite ; so 
 that if we trace the footsteps of his life from the 
 sordid manger to the bloody cross, we can hardly 
 mark any thing to have befallen him apt to satisfy 
 the will of nature. 
 
 Nature liketh respect, and loatheth contempt: 
 therefore was he born of mean parentage, and 
 in a most homely condition; therefore did he 
 live in no garb, did assume no office, did exercise 
 no power, did meddle in no affairs, which procure 
 to men consideration and regard ; therefore an im- 
 poster, a blasphemer, a sorcerer, a loose companion, 
 a seditious incendiary, were the titles of honour 
 and the eulogies of praise conferred on him ; there- 
 fore was he exposed to the lash of every slander- 
 ous, every scurrilous, every petulant and ungo- 
 verned tongue. 
 
 Nature doth affect the good opinion, and good will 
 of men, especially when due in grateful return for 
 great courtesy and beneficence ; nor doth any thing 
 more grate thereon, than abuse of kindness : there- 
 fore, could he (the world's great friend and bene- 
 factor) say ' the world hateth me :' ' therefore were 
 those, whom he with so much charity and bounty 
 had instructed, had fed, had cured of diseases (both 
 corporal and spiritual) so ready to clamour, and 
 commit outrage upon him ; therefore could he thus 
 expostulate, ' Many good works have I showed 
 you from my Father, for which of those works do 
 
 1 John, vii. 7« 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 173 
 
 ye stone me ?' l therefore did his kindred slight 
 him, therefore did his disciples abandon him, 
 therefore did the grand traitor issue from his own 
 bosom; 8 therefore did that whole nation, which he 
 chiefly sought and laboured to save, conspire to 
 persecute him, with most rancorous spite and cruel 
 misusage. 
 
 Nature loveth plentiful accommodations, and 
 abhorreth to be pinched with any want : therefore 
 was extreme penury appointed to him : he had no 
 revenue, no estate, no certain livelihood, not 'so 
 much as a house where to lay his head,' 3 or a 
 piece of money to discharge the tax for it; he 
 owed his ordinary support to alms, or voluntary 
 beneficence ; he was to seek his food from ' a fig- 
 tree on the way ;' 4 and sometimes was beholden for 
 it to the courtesy of publicans ; $i r]fidg tTrrwyevaE, 
 ' he was/ saith St. Paul, ' a beggar for us.' 5 . 
 
 Nature delighteth in ease, in quiet, in liberty : 
 therefore did he spend his days in continual labour, 
 in restless travel, in endless vagrancy, ' going about 
 and doing good;' 6 ever hastening thither, whither 
 the needs of men did call, or their benefit invite; 
 therefore did he ' take on him the form of a ser- 
 vant,' 7 and was among his own followers ' as one 
 that ministereth ; ' 8 therefore he ' pleased not him- 
 self,' 9 but suited his demeanour to the state and 
 circumstances of things, complied with the manners 
 and fashions, comported with the humours and in- 
 firmities of men. 
 
 Nature coveteth good success to its design and 
 
 1 John, x. 32". 8 lb. xiiL 18. 3 Matt. viii. 20. 
 
 4 Matt. xxi. 19. 5 2 Cor. viii. 9. 
 
 • Matt. iv. 23 ; viii. 35 ; Acts, x. 38. » Phil. ii. 7. 
 
 8 Luke, xxii. 27. 9 Rom. xv. 3. 
 
174 OF SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 undertakings, hardly brooking to be disappointed 
 and defeated in them : therefore was he put to 
 water dry sticks, and to wash negroes ; that is, to 
 instruct a most dull and stupid, to reform a most 
 perverse and stubborn generation ; therefore his 
 ardent desires, his solicitous cares, his painful en- 
 deavours for the good of men did obtain so little 
 fruit; had indeed a contrary effect, rather aggra- 
 vating their sins than removing them, rather harden- 
 ing than turning their hearts, rather plunging them 
 deeper into perdition, than rescuing them from it. 
 Therefore so much in vain did he, in numberless 
 miraculous works, display his power and goodness, 
 convincing few, converting fewer by them ; there- 
 fore, although he taught with most powerful autho- 
 rity, with most charming gracefulness, with most 
 convincing evidence, yet, ' Who (could he say) 
 hath believed our report ? ' ' though he most ear- 
 nestly did invite and allure men to him, offering 
 the richest boons that heaven itself could dispense, 
 yet, ' Ye will not (was he forced to say) come unto 
 me, that ye maybe saved;'* although with assi- 
 duous fervency of affection he strove to reclaim 
 them from courses tending to their ruin, yet how 
 he prospered, sad experience declareth, and we 
 may learn from that doleful complaint, • How 
 often would I have gathered thy children together, 
 as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, 
 but ye would not:' 3 uk fiSeXriaaTe, your will did not 
 concur, your will did not submit. 
 
 In fine, natural will seeketh pleasure, and shun- 
 neth pain ; but what pleasure did he taste ; what 
 
 John, xii. 37, 38. ' * John, v. 40. 
 
 3 Luke, xiii. 34. 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 175 
 
 inclination, what appetite, what sense did he gra- 
 tify ? How did he feast, or revel ? How, but in 
 tedious fastings, in frequent hungers, by passing 
 whole nights in prayer, and retirement for devo- 
 tion upon the cold mountains ? What sports had 
 he, what recreation did he take, but feeling inces- 
 sant gripes of compassion, and wearisome roving in 
 quest of the lost sheep ? In what conversation 
 could he divert himself, but among those, whose 
 doltish incapacity, and forward humour, did wring 
 from his patience those words, 'How long shall 
 I be with you, how long shall I suffer you?' 1 
 What music did he hear, but the rattlings of 
 clamorous obloquy, and furious accusations against 
 him ? to be desperately maligned, to be insolently 
 mocked, to be styled a king, and treated as a slave ; 
 to be spit on, to be buffetted, to be scourged, to be 
 drenched with gall, to be crowned with thorns, to 
 be nailed to a cross ; these were the delights which 
 our Lord enjoyed, these the sweet comforts of his 
 life, and the notable prosperities of his fortune : 
 such a portion was allotted to him, the which he 
 did accept from God's hand with all patient sub- 
 mission, with perfect contentedness, with exceeding 
 alacrity, never repining at it, never complaining of 
 it, never flinching from it, or fainting under it ; but 
 proceeding on in the performance of all his duty, 
 and prosecution of his great designs, with un- 
 daunted courage, with unwearied industry, with 
 undisturbed tranquillity and satisfaction of mind. 
 
 Had indeed his condition and fortune been other- 
 wise framed ; had he come into the world quali- 
 fied with a noble extraction; had he lived in a 
 
 1 Matt. xvii. 17. 
 
176 OF SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 splendid equipage, had he enjoyed a plentiful 
 estate and a fair reputation, had he been favoured 
 and caressed by men ; had he found a current of 
 prosperous success, had safety, ease and pleasure 
 waited on him ; where had been the pious resigna- 
 tion of his will, where the precious merit of his 
 obedience, where the glorious lustre of his example ? 
 how then had our frailty in him become victorious 
 over all his enemies ? how had he triumphed over 
 the solicitations and allurements of the flesh ; over 
 the frowns and flatteries of the world ; over the 
 malice and fury of hell ? how then could he have 
 so demonstrated his immense charity toward us, or 
 laid so mighty obligations upon us ? 
 
 Such in general was the case, and such the de- 
 portment of our Lord ; but there was somewhat 
 peculiar, and beyond all this occurring to him, 
 which drew forth the words of our text. God had 
 tempered for him a potion of all the most bitter 
 and loathsome ingredients that could be ; a drop 
 whereof no man ever hath, or could endure to sip ; 
 for he was not only to undergo whatever load hu- 
 man rage could impose, of ignominious disgrace, 
 and grievous pain ; but to feel dismal agonies of 
 spirit, and those ' unknown sufferings/ which God 
 alone could inflict, God only could sustain : * Be- 
 hold, and see,' he might well say, ' if there be 
 any sorrow like unto my sorrow, which is done 
 unto me; wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in 
 the day of his fierce anger?' 1 He was to labour 
 with pangs of charity, and through his heart to be 
 pierced with deepest commiseration of our wretched 
 case : he was to crouch under the burden of all 
 the sins (the numberless most heinous sins and 
 1 Lam. i. 12. 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 177 
 
 abominations) ever committed by mankind : he 
 was to pass through the hottest furnace of divine 
 vengeance, and by his blood to quench the wrath 
 of heaven flaming out against iniquity ; he was to 
 stand (as it were) before the mouth of hell, belch- 
 ing fire and brimstone on his face : his grief was to 
 supply the defects of our remorse, and his suffering 
 in those few moments to countervail the eternal 
 torments due to us : he was to bear the hiding of 
 God's face, and an eclipse of that favourable aspect, 
 in which all bliss doth reside; a case which he that 
 so perfectly understood it, could not but infinitely 
 resent. These things with the clearest apprehen- 
 sion he saw coming on him ; and no wonder that 
 our nature started at so ghastly a sight, or that 
 human instinct should dictate that petition, * Fa- 
 ther, if thou wilt, let this cup pass from me,' — 
 words implying his most real participation of our 
 infirmity ; words denoting the height of those sad 
 evils which encompassed him with his lively and 
 lowly resentment of them ; words informing us, 
 how we should entertain God's chastisements, and 
 whence we must seek relief of our pressures; (that 
 we should receive them, not with a scornful neg- 
 lect, or sullen insensibility, but with a meek contri- 
 tion of soul ; that we should entirely depend on 
 God's pleasure for support under them, or a re- 
 leasement from them;) words which, in conjunc- 
 tion with those following, do show how instantly 
 we should quash and overrule any insurrection of 
 natural desire against the command or providence 
 of God. We must not take that prayer to signify 
 any purpose in our Lord to shift off his passion, or 
 any wavering in resolution about it ; for he could 
 not any wise mean to undo that, which he knew 
 
 N 
 
178 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 done with God before the world's foundation ; he 
 would not unsettle that, which was by his own free 
 undertaking, and irreversible decree. He that so 
 often with satisfaction did foretel this event, who 
 with so ' earnest desire/ ' longed for its approach ; 
 who with that sharpness of indignation did rebuke 
 his friend offering to divert him from it ; who did 
 again repress St. Peter's animosity with that serious 
 expostulation, 'The cup which my Father hath 
 given me, shall I not drink it ? ' 2 who had advisedly 
 laid such trains for its accomplishment — would he 
 decline it ? Could that heart, all burning with zeal 
 for God and charity to men, admit the least thought 
 or motion of averseness from drinking that cup, 
 which was the sovereign medicine administered by 
 divine wisdom, for the recovery of God's creation ? 
 No : had he spake with such intent, legions of an- 
 gels had flown to his rescue ; that word, which 
 framed the worlds, which stilled the tempests, 
 which ejected devils, would immediately have 
 scattered his enemies, and dashed all their projects 
 against him. Wherefore those words did not pro- 
 ceed from intention, but as from instinct, and for 
 instruction; importing, that what our human frailty 
 was apt to suggest, that his divine virtue was more 
 ready to smother ; neither did he vent the former, 
 but that he might express the latter. He did ex- 
 press it in real effect ; immediately with all readi- 
 ness addressing himself to receive that unsavoury 
 potion. He reached out his hand for it, yielding 
 fair opportunity and advantages to his persecutors ; 
 he lifted it up to his mouth, innocently provoking 
 
 1 Eir&vpiq. ETTifrvfitiv. — Luke, xxii. 15. 
 * John, xviii. 11. 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 179 
 
 their envy and malice ; he drank it off with a most 
 steady calmness, and sweet composure of mind, 
 with the silence, the simplicity, the meekness of a 
 lamb, carried to the slaughter ; no fretful thought 
 rising up, no angry word breaking forth, but a 
 clear patience, enlivened with a warm charity, 
 shining in all his behaviour, and through every 
 circumstance of his passion. 
 
 Such in his life, such at his death, was the prac- 
 tice of our Lord ; in conformity whereto we also 
 readily should undertake whatever God proposeth, 
 we gladly should accept whatever God offereth, we 
 vigorously should perform whatever God enjoin- 
 eth, we patiently should undergo whatever God 
 imposeth or inflicteth, how cross soever any duty, 
 any dispensation may prove to our carnal sense or 
 humour. 
 
 To do thus, the contemplation of this example 
 may strongly engage us. For if our Lord had not 
 his will, can we in reason expect, can we in mo- 
 desty desire, to have ours ? Must we be cockered 
 and pleased in every thing, when as he was treated 
 so coarsely, and crossed in all things ? can we 
 grudge at any kind of service, or sufferance ? can 
 we think much (for our trial, our exercise, our cor- 
 rection) to bear a little want, a little disgrace, a 
 little pain, when the Son of God was put to dis- 
 charge the hardest tasks, to endure the sorest ad- 
 versities ? 
 
 But further to enforce these duties, be pleased 
 to cast a glance on two considerations. First, 
 What the will is to which, — Secondly, Who the 
 wilier is to whom, we must submit. 
 
 1. What is the will of God ? Is it any thing 
 unjust, unworthy, or dishonourable, any thing in- 
 
180 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 commodious or hurtful, any thing extremely dim- 
 cult, or intolerably grievous, that God requireth of 
 us to do or bear ? No : he willeth nothing from 
 us, or to us, which doth not best become us, and 
 most behove us ; which is not attended with safety, 
 with ease, with the solidest profit, the fairest repu- 
 tation, and the sweetest pleasure. 
 
 Two things he willeth, — that we should be good, 
 and that we should be happy ; the first in order to 
 the second ; for that virtue is the certain way, and 
 a necessary qualification to felicity. 
 
 * The will of God,' saith St. Paul, ' is our sancti- 
 fication :' l what is that ? What, but that the decays 
 of our frame, and the defacements of God's image 
 within us, should be repaired ; that the faculties of 
 our soul should be restored to their original integ- 
 rity and vigour ; that from most wretched slaveries 
 we should be translated into a happy freedom, yea, 
 into a glorious kingdom; that from despicable 
 beggary and baseness we should be advanced to 
 substantial wealth, and sublime dignity ; that we 
 should be cleansed from the foulest defilements, 
 and decked with the goodliest ornaments ; that we 
 should be cured of most loathsome diseases, and 
 settled in a firm health of soul ; that we should be 
 delivered from those brutish lusts, and those de- . 
 vilish passions, which create in us a hell of dark- 
 ness, of confusion, of vexation, — which dishonour 
 our nature, deform our soul, ruffle our mind, and 
 rack our conscience ; that we should be endowed 
 with those worthy dispositions and affections, 
 which do constitute in our hearts a heaven of light, 
 of order, of joy and peace, — dignify our nature, 
 
 1 1 Thess. iv. 3. 
 
BY DR. BARROW 181 
 
 beautify our soul, clarify and cheer our mind; 
 that we should eschew those practices, which ne- 
 ver go without a retinue of woful mischiefs and 
 sorrows, embracing those which always yield abun- 
 dant fruits of convenience and comfort; that in 
 short, we should become friends of God, fit to con- 
 verse with angels, and capable of paradise. 
 
 ■ God,' saith St. Paul again, • willeth all men 
 to be saved ; ■ ' He willeth not,' saith St. Peter, 
 ' that any man should perish ;' 2 He saith it him- 
 self, yea, he sweareth it, • that he hath no pleasure 
 in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked 
 should turn from his way and live.' 3 And what is 
 this will? What, but that we should obtain all 
 the good whereof we are capable ; that we should 
 be filled with joy, and crowned with glory; that 
 we should be fixed in an immovable state of hap- 
 piness, in the perpetual enjoyment of God's fa- 
 vour, and in the light of his blissful presence : that 
 we should be rid of all the evils to which we are 
 liable; that we should be released from inextri- 
 cable chains of guilt, from incurable stings of re- 
 morse, from being irrecoverably engaged to pass 
 a disconsolate eternity in utter darkness and ex- 
 treme woe ? Such is God's will; to such purposes 
 every command, evej;y dispensation of God (how 
 grim, how rough soever it may seem) doth tend: 
 and do we refuse to comply with that good will ? 
 do we set against it a will of our own, affecting 
 things unworthy of us, things unprofitable to us, 
 things prejudicial to our best interests, things ut- 
 terly baneful to our souls ? Do we reject the will 
 that would save us, and adhere to a will that would 
 
 1 1 Tim. ii. 4. • 2 Pet iii. 9. 3 Ezek. xxxiii. 11. 
 
182 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 ruin us; a foolish and a senseless will, which, 
 slighting the immense treasures of heaven, the un- 
 fading glories of God's kingdom, the ineffable joys 
 of eternity, doth catch at specious nothings, doth 
 pursue mischievous trifles ; a shadow of base profit 
 a smoke of vain honour, a flash of sordid pleasure ; 
 which passeth away like ' the mirth of fools/ or 
 f the crackling of thorns,' ' leaving only soot, black 
 and bitter, behind it. 
 
 But at least ere we do thus, let us consider, 
 whose will it is, that requireth our compliance. 
 
 It is the will of him, whose will did found the 
 earth, and rear the heaven ; 8 whose will sustaineth 
 all things in their existence and operation; whose 
 will is the great law of the world, which universal 
 nature in all its motions doth observe; which 
 reigneth in heaven, the blessed spirits adoring it, 
 which swayeth in hell itself, the cursed fiends 
 trembling at it: and shall we alone (we pitiful 
 worms crawling on earth) presume to murmur, or 
 dare to kick against it ? 
 
 It is the will of our Maker, who together with all 
 our other faculties did create and confer on us the 
 very power of willing : and shall we turn the work 
 of his hands, the gift of his bounty against him ? 
 
 It is the will of our Preserver, who together with 
 all that we are or have, continually doth uphold 
 our very will itself; so that without employing 
 any positive force, merely by letting us fall out ot 
 his hand, he can send us and it back to nothing : 
 and shall our will clash with that, on which it so 
 wholly dependeth ; without which it cannot subsist 
 one moment, or move one step forward in action ? 
 
 * Eccles. vii. 6. * Psalm cxlviii. 5 ; Apoc. Iv. 11. 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 183 
 
 It is the will of our sovereign Lord, who upon 
 various indisputable accounts hath a just right to 
 govern us, and an absolute power to dispose of us : 
 ought we not therefore to say with old Eli, ' It is 
 the Lord, let him do to me as it seemeth good to 
 him ?' ' Is it not extreme iniquity, is it not mon- 
 strous arrogance for us, in derogation to his will, to 
 pretend giving law, or picking a station to our- 
 selves ? Do we not manifestly incur high-treason 
 against the King of Heaven by so invading his 
 office, usurping his authority, snatching his scep- 
 tre into our hands, and setting our wills in his 
 throne ? 
 
 It is the will of our Judge, from whose mouth 
 our doom must proceed, awarding life or death, 
 weal or woe unto us : and what sentence can we 
 expect, what favour can we pretend to, if we pre- 
 sumptuously shall offend — oppose — that will, which 
 is the supreme rule of justice, and sole fountain of 
 mercy ? 
 
 It is the will of our Redeemer, who hath bought 
 us with an inestimable price, and with infinite 
 pains hath rescued us from miserable captivity 
 under most barbarous enemies, that obeying his 
 will we might command our own, and serving him 
 we might enjoy perfeqt freedom : and shall we, de- 
 clining his call and conduct out of that unhappy 
 state, bereave him of his purchase, frustrate his un- 
 dertakings, and forfeit to ourselves the benefit of 
 so great redemption ? 
 
 It is the will of Our best Friend ; who loveth us 
 much better than we do love ourselves; who is 
 concerned for our welfare, as his own dearest in- 
 
 1 1 Sam. iii. 18. 
 
184 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 terest, and greatly delighteth therein; who by 
 innumerable experiments hath demonstrated an 
 excess of kindness to us ; who in all his dealings 
 with us purely doth aim at our good, never charg- 
 ing any duty on us, or dispensing any event to 
 us, so much with intent to exercise his power over 
 us, as to express his goodness towards us; who 
 never ' doth afflict or grieve us' 1 more against our 
 will, than against his own desire; never indeed 
 but when goodness itself calleth for it, and even 
 mercy doth urge thereto; to whom we are much 
 obliged, that he vouchsafeth to govern and guide 
 us, our service being altogether unprofitable to 
 him, his governance exceedingly beneficial to us. 
 And doth not such a will deserve regard, may it 
 not demand compliance from us ? To neglect or in- 
 fringe it, what is it ? Is it not palpable folly, is it 
 not foul disingenuity, is it not destestable ingrati- 
 tude? 
 
 So doth every relation of God recommend his 
 will to us ; and each of his attributes doth no less : 
 for, 
 
 It is the will of him who is most holy, or whose 
 will is essential rectitude : how then can we thwart 
 it, without being stained with the guilt, and 
 wounded with a sense of great irregularity and in- 
 iquity ? 
 
 It is the will of him who is perfectly just ; who 
 therefore cannot but assert his own righteous will, 
 and avenge the violation thereof: is it then ad- 
 visable to drive him to that point by wilful provo- 
 cation; or to run upon the edge of necessary 
 severity ? 
 
BY DR. BARROW. 285 
 
 It is the will of him who is infinitely wise ; who 
 therefore doth infallibly know what is best for us, 
 what doth most befit our capacities and circum- 
 stances ; what in the final result will conduce to 
 our greatest advantage and comfort : shall we then 
 prefer the dreams of our vain mind before the 
 oracles of his wisdom ; shall we, forsaking the di- 
 rection of his unerring will, follow the impulse of 
 our giddy humour ? 
 
 It is the will of him who is immensely good and 
 benign ; whose will therefore can be.no other than 
 good will to us ; who can mean nothing thereby 
 but to derive bounty and mercy on us. Can we 
 then fail of doing well, if we put ourselves entirely 
 into his hands ; are we not our own greatest ene- 
 mies, in withstanding his gracious intentions ? 
 
 It is, finally, the will of him who is uncontrolla- 
 bly powerful; whose will therefore must prevail 
 one way or other ; either with our will, or against 
 it, either so as to bow and satisfy us, or so as to break 
 and plague us : for ' my counsel,' saith he, ' shall 
 stand, and I will do all my pleasure.' 1 As to his 
 dispensations,we may fret, we may wail, we may bark 
 at them, but we cannot alter or avoid them. Sooner 
 may we by our moans check the tides, or by our 
 cries stop the sun in his career, than divert the 
 current of affairs, or change the state of things esta- 
 blished by God's high decree : what he layeth on 
 no hand can remove ; what he hath destined, no 
 power can reverse ; our anger therefore will be in- 
 effectual, our impatience will have no other fruit, 
 than to aggravate our guilt, and augment our grief. 
 As to his commands, we may * lift up ourselves 
 
 1 Isa. xlvi. 10. 
 
186 ON SUBMISSION TO THE DIVINE WILL. 
 
 against them/ 1 we may fight stoutly, we may in a 
 sort prove conquerors ; but it will be a miserable 
 victory, the trophies whereof shall be erected in 
 hell, and stand upon the ruins of our happiness; 
 for while we insult over abused grace, we must fall 
 under incensed justice. If God cannot fairly pro- 
 cure his will of us in way of due obedience, he will 
 surely execute his will upon us in way of righteous 
 vengeance ; if we do not surrender our wills to the 
 overtures of his goodness, we must submit our backs 
 to the strokes of his anger : he must reign over us, 
 if not as over loyal subjects to our comfort, yet as 
 over stubborn rebels to our confusion ; for this in 
 that case will be our doom, and the last words God 
 will deign to spend upon us — ' Those mine ene- 
 mies, which would not that I should reign over 
 them, bring them hither, and slay them before 
 me.' 8 
 
 'Now, the God of peace, that brought again 
 from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd 
 of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting 
 covenant, make you perfect in every good work to 
 do his will, working in you that which is well pleas- 
 ing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be 
 glory for ever and ever :' 3 Amen. 
 
 1 Dan. v. 23. * Luke, xix. 27. 3 Heb. xiii. 20. 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 THE ATONEMENT A PLEDGE OF EVERY 
 OTHER BLESSING. 
 
 BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 
 
 [farinoon wai born in 1596, and died in 1696.] 
 
SERMON X. 
 
 Romans, vih. 32. 
 
 He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him 
 ttp for us all, shall he not with him also freely give 
 us all things P 
 
 God's benefits come not alone, but one gift is the 
 pledge of another. The grant of a mite is the as- 
 signment of a talent. A drop of dew from hea- 
 ven is a prognostic of a gracious shower, of a flood, 
 which nothing can dry but ingratitude. One ol 
 the Fathers might well say, that " the love of God 
 is as a constant and endless circle, from good to 
 good, in good, without error or inconstancy, rolling 
 and carrying itself about in an everlasting gyration. 1 
 ' He spared not his own Son,' saith the text, ' but 
 delivered him up for us all.' But how many 
 gifts did usher in this ? He gave him to us often 
 in the creation of the world. For * by him were 
 all things made, and without him was nothing 
 made that was made." When God giveth, he 
 giveth his Son ; for as we ask in his name, so he 
 
 1 S. Dionys. ae Divin. Norn. p. 200. * John, i. 3. 
 
190 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 giveth in his name whatsoever we ask. Every ac- 
 tion of God is a gift, and every gift a tender of 
 his Son — an art to make us capable of more. Thus 
 the argument of God's love is drawn a minori ad 
 majus, from that which seemeth little to that which 
 is greater, from a grain to an harvest, from one 
 blessing to a myriad, from our creation to our re- 
 demption, from Christ's actions to his passion ; 
 which is the true authentic instrument of his love. 
 With us the argument holdeth not, but with God it 
 doth : by giving little he giveth hopes of more 
 He that is our steward, to provide for us, and sup- 
 ply us out of his treasury — who ripeneth the fruits 
 on the trees, and the corn in the fields, who draw- 
 eth us wine out of the vine, and spinneth us gar- 
 ments out of the bowels of the worm, and fleece of 
 the flock, will give us greater things than these. 
 He that giveth us balm for our bodies, will give us 
 physic for our souls. He that gave us our being 
 by his Son, will deliver up his Son for the world. 
 Here his love is in its zenith and vertical point, and 
 in a direct line casteth its rays of comfort on his 
 lost creature. Here the argument is at the highest, 
 and St. Paul draweth it down again, d majori ad 
 minus, from the greater to the less ; and the con- 
 clusion is full — full of comfort to all. He that 
 giveth a talent will certainly give a mite : he that 
 giveth ' his Son,' will also give salvation ; and he 
 that giveth salvation, will give 'all things' which 
 may work it out. • He that delivered his Son/ is 
 followed by the question, ' how shall he not ?— 
 how shall he not with him also freely give us all 
 things?' It is impossible it should be otherwise. 
 Christ cometh not naked, but clothed with bless- 
 ings ; he cometh not empty, but with the riches of 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 191 
 
 heaven, the treasures of wisdom and happiness. 
 Christ cometh not alone, but with troops of angels, 
 with glorious promises and blessings. Nay, to 
 make good the quomodo non y the 'How shall he 
 not ? '- — to make it unanswerable, unquestionable — 
 it is his nakedness that clothes us, his poverty that 
 cnricheth us, his diminution that maketh us great, 
 and his exinanition and emptying of himself that 
 filleth us ; and his being * delivered for us,' deli- 
 vereth to us the possession of • all things.* 
 
 Here then is an assignment made to mankind : 
 1, Christ given ; 2, Given for us all ; and, 3, A full 
 stream of blessings issuing out with his blood. 
 
 Or, because it is a work of infinite love, we will 
 call it scalam amoris, the scale or ladder of the di- 
 vine love. And then the steps, the parts to come 
 under consideration, will be, 1, The person deli- 
 vered — * his own Son.' 2, The delivery and man- 
 ner of it — ' He delivered/ and ' spared him not.' 
 3, The persons for whom — ' for us all : ' and these 
 will, in the last place, bring in, 4, The end of all, 
 the end of Christ's delivery and of all his sufferings, 
 and make us bold to ask this question, * How shall 
 he not with him also freely give us all things ? ' 
 
 I. ' His own Son.' This, though we make it the 
 first step, yet indeed is the top of the ladder, the 
 highest pitch of God's love, from which the light of 
 his countenance shineth upon us, and showeth that 
 he loved us as his own Son — nay, more than his 
 own Son. In this manifestation of his love, he ap- 
 peareth rather a Father to us than to him. To gain 
 us, he is willing in a manner to be himself at a 
 loss ; and to endanger his own, that he may free 
 us from slavery. He will spoil and rob himself, to 
 enrich us ; and, to make us his children, ' deliver 
 up his own Son.' A strange contemplation it is : 
 
i92 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 Nazianzen shutteth it up in admiration, and coun- 
 selled us to sit down and " reverence it with si- 
 lence.'" Can God delight to make his Son a sa- 
 crifice, who would not suffer Abraham to offer up 
 his ? Or might he not have taken an angel for his 
 Son, as he did a ram for Isaac ? Tig 6 \6yog; 
 what reason can be given for this delivery ? Here 
 the object is so radiant that it confoundeth the 
 sense, and we scarce can see it when we look upon 
 it. God's love is at such an height, that our con- 
 templation cannot reach it; and though in plain 
 terms we are told what was done, yet we are slow 
 of heart to believe it. Olim morbo nunc remedio 
 laboramus — the remedy is so admirable that it 
 amazeth the patient. But why should we fear 
 where no fear is ? Why should we fear to dis- 
 parage Christ, when he is so well pleased to hum- 
 ble himself? Why should we be wiser than God ? 
 Why should we offend and scandalize Christ, as 
 Peter did : l Be this far from the Lord,' 8 from the 
 Son of God ; that is, ' Let God forbid that which 
 he will have done.' Why should we check his wis- 
 dom, or be troubled at his love ? When God will 
 • deliver up his Son,' to talk of improbability, or in- 
 congruity, or impossibility, is to speak against God. 
 If he will deliver him, his will be done. He that 
 resteth in God's will, doth best acknowledge his 
 majesty. It was his will to 'deliver' him. And 
 this cleareth all doubts, and beateth down every 
 imagination that exalteth itself. If God will do 
 any thing, we have but one word left us for answer, 
 — ' Amen/ let it be done. He hath wisdom and 
 power to attend his will ; and ' who are we that 
 
 1 Toiaura <riy?) <n(SkoQi<). Orat. 38. 
 * Matt. xvi. 22. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARTNDON, B.D. 193 
 
 darken counsel by words without knowledge?' 1 
 When we fall down at his footstool, and acknow- 
 ledge his infinite power ; when we say, ' he only 
 can do wondrous works ;' s when in all humility 
 we acknowledge that he can do more than we can 
 think, — that he can uphold us when we are ready 
 to fall, enrich us in poverty, strengthen us in weak- 
 ness, supply us with all necessary means and en- 
 couragements in this our race ; when we preach on 
 the house-tops, that he can tread down all our ene- 
 mies under our feet, and bind Satan in chains ; 
 when we believe and rely on it, that he is able to 
 immortalize our flesh, to raise us out of the dust, 
 and set us in heavenly places ; — we think we have 
 raised our magnificats to the highest : and indeed, 
 a Christian needeth not set his songs and hallelu- 
 jahs to a higher note. But yet we do not here 
 rise so high, nor so fully express him, as when we 
 give him an absolute will, and say, ' He doth what 
 he will in heaven and in earth/ 3 This can belong 
 to none but the highest, to the King of kings and 
 Lord of lords. This maketh God paramount, and 
 commander of all. Even his omnipotency seemeth 
 to submit and vail to his will, and to be com- 
 manded by it : for many things he doth not do, 
 because he will not, not because he cannot. " He 
 can do what he will," saith Tertullian ; " and what 
 he will not do, we may say he cannot. What 
 he would do, he could and did." 4 What, his Son ? 
 His 'own Son?' — his beloved Son, infinite and 
 omnipotent as himself — shall he be ' delivered ? ' 
 
 1 Job. xxxviii. 2. 8 Psalm lxxii. 18 ; Ixxxvi. 10. 
 
 3 Psalm cxxxv. 6. 
 4 Dei posse, velle est ; et non posse, nolle. Quod voluit, et 
 potuit, etostendit. 
 
 O 
 
194 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 Yes, ' he delivered him,' because he would. His 
 will is that which openeth the windows of heaven, 
 and shutteth them again; that bindeth and looseth ; 
 that planteth and rooteth up ; that made the world, 
 and will destroy it. His will it was that humbled 
 his Son ; and his will it was that glorified him. He 
 might not have done it, might not have delivered 
 him. He might, without the least impairing of 
 his justice, have kept him still in his bosom, and 
 never showed him to the world : but as ' of his 
 own will he begat us of the word of truth,' so ' he 
 delivered up his Son,' ftuXrjdeig, ' because he would.' 
 For as in the creation God might have made man, 
 as he made the other creatures, by his word alone; 
 yet would not, but wrought him out of the earth, 
 and, like a potter, formed and shaped him out of 
 the clay with his own hands ; so in the great work 
 of our redemption, he did not send a Moses, or an 
 angel, but ' delivered up his own Son,' and so gave 
 a price infinitely above that which he bought; 
 mortal and sinful men being of no value at all, but 
 that he made them. He paid down, not a talent 
 for a talent, but a talent for a mite, for nothing : 
 for that which had made itself worse than nothing: 
 he delivered up his Son for those who stood guilty 
 of rebellion against him ; and thus loved the world 
 which was at enmity with him. Thus was he pleased 
 to buy his own will, and to pay dear for his affec- 
 tion to us. And by this his incomprehensible love 
 he did bound, as it were, his almighty power, his 
 infinite wisdom, and his unlimited will : for here 
 his power, wisdom, and .will may seem to have 
 found a limit : he cannot do, he cannot find out, 
 he cannot wish for us, more than what he hath 
 done in this delivery of his Son. How should this 
 affect and ravish our souls ! How should this flame 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B.D. 195 
 
 of God's love kindle love in us ! That benefit is 
 great which preventeth our prayers; that is greater, 
 which is above our hope ; that is yet greater, that 
 exceedeth our desires : but how great is that, which 
 overrunneth our opinion, yea, swalloweth it up ! 
 Certainly had not God revealed his will, we could 
 not have desired it; but our prayers would have 
 been blasphemy — our hope, madness — our wish, 
 sacrilege — and our opinion, impiety ! 
 
 And now, if any ask, what moved his will ? 
 Surely, no loveliness or attractiveness in the ob- 
 ject. In it there was nothing to be seen but loath- 
 someness and deformity, and such enmity as might 
 sooner move him to wrath than compassion, and 
 make him rather send down fire and brimstone 
 than his Son. That which moved him was himself 
 — his own bowels of mercy and compassion. He 
 loved us ' in our blood;' 1 and, loving us, he bid us 
 'live ;' and, that we might live, ' delivered up his 
 Son' to death. His mercy was the only orator to 
 move his will : being merciful, he was also willing 
 to help us. Mercy is all our plea, and it was all 
 his motive, and wrought in him a will, a cheerful 
 will : Karafcav^arat, saith St. James, mercy ( re- 
 joiceth against judgment.' 2 Though we had forgot 
 our duty, yet would not he forget his mercy, but 
 hearkened to it, and would not shut up his tender 
 mercies in anger; 3 which is a metaphor taken from 
 martial affairs. The Septuagint renders it awexeiv, 
 to make a trench about, and besiege it. Now, the 
 goodness of God, and his love to his creature, 
 would not surfer him thus to shut up his tender 
 mercies, as a fort or town is shut up, to be under- 
 mined, and beat up and overcome ; but, as the be- 
 
 1 Ezek. xvi. 6. * Jam. iL 13. 3 Psalm lxxvii. 9. 
 
 o2 
 
196 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 sieged many time make sallies upon the enemy, so 
 the love and mercy of our God brake forth, even 
 through his anger, and gained a conquest against 
 the legions of his wrath. Let the world be impure, 
 let men be sinners, let justice be importunate, let 
 power be formidable, let vengeance be ready to 
 fall ; yet all must fall back, and yield to the love 
 and mercy of God, which cannot be overcome, nor 
 bound, nor shut up, but will break forth, and 
 make way through all opposition, through sin, and 
 all the powers of darkness, which besiege and com- 
 pass it about; and will raise the siege, and drive off 
 and chase away those enemies ; and to conquer sin 
 will deliver up his Son to the sinner. And this, 
 saith Aquinas, was (enigma amoris, the riddle, or 
 rather the mystery of love, to pose the^visdom of 
 the world. I may say, being love, and infinite, it 
 is no riddle at all, but plain and easy. For what 
 can love do that is strange ? What can it do 
 amiss ? That which moved God to do this, showeth 
 plainly that the end for which he did it was very 
 good. ' He loved us,' is the best commentary on, 
 ' he delivered his Son for us;' and taketh away all 
 scruple and doubt. For, if we can once love our 
 enemies, it is impossible but that our bowels should 
 yearn towards them, and our will be bent and 
 prone to raise them up even to that pitch and con- 
 dition which our love hath designed ; and, if our 
 love were heavenly, as God's is, or but in some for- 
 ward degree proportioned to his, we should find 
 nothing difficult, account nothing absurd or mis- 
 becoming, which might promote or advantage their 
 good : if our love have heat in it, our will will be 
 forward and earnest, and we shall be ready even to 
 lay down our lives for them. For love is like an 
 
BY ANTHONY FAR.IN0ON, B. D. 197 
 
 artificial glass, which when we look through, an 
 enemy appeareth a friend ; disgrace, honour ; dif 
 Acuities, nothing. When God saw us weltering in 
 our blood, his love was ready to wash us; when 
 we ran from him, his love ran after us to apprehend 
 us; when we fought against him as enemies, his 
 love was a prophet : ' Lo, all these may be my 
 children.' What speak we of disgrace ? God's 
 love defendeth his majesty, and exalteth the humi- 
 lity of his Son. Love, as Plato saith, hath this 
 privilege, that it cannot be defamed; and by a 
 kind of law, hath this huge advantage, to make 
 bondage, liberty; disgrace, honourable; infirmity, 
 omnipotent. Who can stand up against love, and 
 say, "Why didst thou this?" Had Marcion, Pho- 
 tinus, and Alius well weighed the force and privi- 
 lege of love, they would not have denied Christ to 
 be the Son of God, because God delivered him up 
 for us, but would have seen as great glory in his 
 humility as in his glory, and would have fallen 
 down and worshipped God and man, even this 
 crucified Lord of life, Jesus Christ. Love will do 
 any thing for those whom she looketh and stayeth 
 upon. If you ' ask a coat,' she ' giveth the cloak 
 also;' if you 'desire her to go a mile, she will go 
 with you twain ;' * and is never weary, though she 
 passes through places of horror and danger. If 
 you be in the most loathsome dungeon, in the 
 valley and shadow of death, she forsaketh you not, 
 but will go along with you. Must the Son of God 
 be delivered ? Love sendeth him down. It was 
 love that 'bowed the heavens' when he descended. 
 Must he suffer? Love nailed him to the cross; 
 
 1 Matt. v. 40. 
 
198 
 
 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 and no power could do it but love. Must he be 
 sacrificed ? Love calleth it a ' baptism/ and is 
 ' straitened,' till the sacrifice be slain. 1 Must he 
 die ? Must the Son of God die ? Love calls it 
 reXeibxriv, his * perfection.' * So, though he be the 
 Son of God, though we were his enemies, yet love 
 reconcileth all these seeming contradictions, resolv- 
 eth every" doubt, tuneth these jarring strings, and 
 out of this discord maketh that melody which de- 
 lighteth both men and angels, and God himself; 
 even that melody, whereof our love should be the 
 resultance. He loved us ; and then the conclusion 
 follows sweetly and naturally, * He spared not his 
 own Son, but delivered him up.' And so from the 
 person we pass to the delivery itself. 
 
 II. " He delivered, and spared him not." The 
 economy and glorious dispensation of our Lord 
 and Saviour Jesus Christ, is here called napalocriQ, a 
 ' delivery.' And delivered he was, first, into the vir- 
 gin's womb. That was a strange descent ; and 
 even then, at his birth, began his passion. Nasci 
 se palitur ; 3 he suffered himself to be fashioned in 
 the womb : he took of man what was proper and 
 natural to him, to be born, and die. Here he was 
 drawn out and fitted, made an object for the malice 
 of men and the rage of the devil to "work on : here 
 he was made a mark for his enemies to shoot at. 
 Here he got a back for the whip, flesh to be plough- 
 ed, a face to be spit upon, a body to be nailed to 
 the cross, and an heart to be pierced. Here he was 
 built up as a temple, to be ' beat down with axes 
 and hammers, with misery and affliction.' Yet God 
 thus 'delivered him.' But further; being born, 
 
 ' Luke, xii. 50. 2 Heb. ii. 10. 3 Tertull. de Patient 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 199 
 
 what was his whole life, but delivery from sorrow 
 to sorrow, and from misery to misery, from poverty 
 to shame, from derision to malice, from malice to 
 death ? This was the pomp and ceremony with 
 which he was brought to his cross, and from thence 
 to his grave. ' Deliver me not to the will of mine 
 enemies,' 1 saith David. Behold, Christ's friends 
 were his enemies. What creature was there to 
 whom he was not delivered ? Delivered he was to 
 the angels — 'to keep him,' you will say, 'in all 
 his ways.' 2 But what need had he of an angel's 
 assistance, whose wisdom reached over all ? What 
 needed he an angel's tongue to comfort him, who 
 was Lord of the angels, and who with his voice 
 could have destroyed the universe ? What need 
 had he, who could turn stones into bread, yea, 
 work bread out of nothing, as he did in the multi- 
 plying of the loaves, to receive alms from the hand 
 of his minister ? He was delivered to Joseph and 
 Mary, to whom he was subject and obedient. 3 De- 
 livered he was to an occupation and trade. He 
 was delivered from Annas to Caiaphas, from Caia- 
 phas to Pilate, from Pilate to Herod, from Herod 
 to Pilate again, and from Pilate to the Jews, to do 
 with him what they pleased. He was delivered to 
 all the creatures: to heat and to cold; to the 
 thorns, which gored him ; to the whip, which made 
 long furrows in his flesh; to the nails, which 
 fastened him ; to the spear, which pierced him ; to 
 the cross, which racked him ; to the grave, which 
 swallowed him. He was delivered to the devil 
 himself, and to the power of darkness. There was 
 
 Psalm xxvii. 12 2 Ibid. xci. 11. 
 
 3 Luke i. 51. 
 
200 
 
 THE ATOM. \;i \T. 
 
 no creature, from the highest to the lowest, to 
 which he was not delivered. He was delivered in 
 his body and in his soul ; in every part of his body, 
 even in those which seemed free from pain. His 
 tongue (which his enemies' cruelty affected not — 
 for, though he was man, yet had he nothing of the 
 impatience of man) complained of thirst: he said, 
 ' I thirst.' ' He was delivered up to a quick and 
 lively sense of pain. Many times extremity of 
 pain taketh pain away, and it is lost in itself; but 
 Christ's pain quickened his sense. The more sen- 
 sible he was, the more he suffered, the more feeling 
 he had. His last gasp was breathed out $wrrj 
 peyaXr), * with a strong voice." Delivered he was 
 to envy, which ' delivered him ;' 3 to treachery, which 
 betrayed him ; to malice, which laid on sure strokes; 
 to pride, which scorned him; to contempt, which 
 spat upon him ; to all those furious passions which 
 turn men into devils. Thus was our blessed Savi- 
 our delivered, not only to men, but to the passions 
 of men, to the wild and brutish passions of his 
 enemies, yea, to the rage of devils. 
 
 Further yet : he was delivered not only to their 
 passions, but to his own also, which as man he 
 carried about with him : 'H <pvxv fJ-» rcrapcurcu, ' My 
 soul is troubled,' 4 said he. He was ev aywviq., ' in 
 an agony;' 5 which none can tell what it is, but he 
 that hath felt it ; and none ever felt such an agony 
 but he. 'AdtrifiovZi, * he was grievously vexed.' 
 JJepiXv-n-og eaiv rj $vy$, ' his soul was exceeding sor- 
 rowful.' 7 These several expressions the evangelists 
 
 1 John, xix. 28. 2 Matt, xxvii. 50. 3 Ibid, xxvii. 18. 
 
 4 John, xii. 27. 5 Luke, xxii 44. 6 Matt xxvi. 37. 
 
 7 lb. v. 38. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D 201 
 
 give us — ' trouble,' 1 vexation/ ' agony/ ' heaviness/ 
 and 'sorrow/ in his soul. These were the bitter 
 ingredients which filled up his cup so full that he 
 made it his prayer to have it taken out of his hand. 1 
 The consideration of which hath induced some to 
 conceive that the sense of pain had so weakened 
 his intellectual faculties that he forgot himself.* 
 They, however, who thus interpret, seem not well 
 to have advised with their reason, that would leave 
 wisdom itself without the use of it. No question, 
 it was the language of a bleeding heart, and the re- 
 sultance of grief. For grieve Christ did, and fear. 
 He who, as God, could have commanded a legion of 
 angels, as man had need of one to comfort him. 
 He was delivered up to passions, to afflict, not to 
 swallow him up. There was no disorder, no jar 
 with reason, which was still above them. There 
 was no sullenness in his grief, no despair in his 
 complaints, no unreasonableness in his thoughts ; 
 not a thought rose amiss, not a word was mis- 
 placed, not a motion irregular. He knew he was 
 not forsaken, when he asked, ' Why hast thou for- 
 saken me ?' 3 The bitterness of the cup struck him 
 into a fear. When his obedience called for it, he 
 prayed indeed, 'Let this cup pass from me.' 4 But 
 that was not the cup of his cross and passion, but the 
 cup of his agony. And in that prayer it is plain he 
 was heard ; for the text tells us, ' there appeared an 
 angel unto him from heaven to strengthen him.'* 
 Being of the same mould and temper with men, he 
 was willing to receive the impressions which are so 
 visible in man, of sorrow and fear; even those affec- 
 
 1 Mark, xiv. 36. 2 Calvin, Harm, in loc. 
 
 * Matt, xxvii. 46. * lb. xxvi. 49. 5 Luke, xxii. 43. 
 
202 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 tions which are seated in the sensitive part, and 
 without which misery and pain have no tooth at all 
 to bite us. Our passions are the sting- of misery ; 
 nor could Christ have suffered at all if he had been 
 free from them. If misery be a whip, it is our pas- 
 sion and fantasy that make it a scorpion. What 
 could malice hurt me, if I did not help the blow ? 
 What edge hath an injury, if I could not be angry ? 
 What terror hath death, if I did not fear? It is 
 opinion and passion that make us miserable : take 
 away these, and misery is but a name. You touch 
 not the stoic, though you bray him in a mortar. 1 
 Delivered then was the Son of God to these pas- 
 sions — to fear and to grief. These strained his 
 body, racked his joints, stretched his sinews : these 
 trickled down in clots of blood, and exhaled them- 
 selves through the pores of his flesh in a bloody 
 sweat. The fire that melted him was his fear and 
 his grief. 
 
 Is there yet any more ? or can the Son of God 
 be delivered further ? Delivered he was — not to 
 despair, for that was impossible, not to the torments 
 of hell, which could never seize on his innocent 
 soul; but to the wrath of God, which ' withered his 
 heart like grass,' 'burnt up his bones like a hearth,' 
 and 'brought him even to the dust of death.' 8 
 Look now upon his countenance — it is pale and 
 wan ; upon his heart — it is melted like wax ; upon 
 his tongue — it cleaveth to the roof of his mouth. 
 What talk we of death ? The wrath of God is 
 truly tCjv tyofiepuv (pofiep&Tcuov, the terriblest thing 
 in the world — the sting of sin, which is the sting of 
 
 1 Tunde ; Anaxarchum enim non tundis. 
 s Psalm cii. 3, 4 ; xxii. 1 5. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 203 
 
 death. Look into our own souls. That weak ap- 
 prehension of it, which we sometimes have, what a 
 night and darkness doth it draw over us! Nay, what 
 a hell doth it kindle in us ! What torments do we 
 feel — the types and sad representations of those in 
 the bottomless pit ! How do our delights distaste 
 us, and our desires strangle themselves ! What a 
 Tophet is the world, and what furies are our 
 thoughts ! What do we see which we do not turn 
 from ? What do we know which we would not 
 forget ? What do we think which we do not startle 
 at ? Or, do we know what to think ? Now, what 
 rock can hide us ? What mountain can cover us ? 
 We are weary of ourselves, and could wish rather 
 not to be than to be under God's wrath. Were it 
 not for this, there would be no law, no conscience, 
 no devil ; but with this, the law is a killing letter, 
 the conscience a fury, and the devil a tormentor. 
 But yet there is still a difference between our ap- 
 prehension and Christ's. For, alas ! to us, God's 
 wrath doth not appear in its full horror ; for, if 
 it did, we should sooner die than offend him. 
 Some do but think of it ; few think of it as they 
 should ; and they that are most apprehensive, look 
 upon it as at a distance, as that which may be turned 
 away ; and so, not fearing God's wrath, * treasure 
 up wrath against the day of wrath.' To us, when 
 we take it at the nearest, and have the fullest sight of 
 it, it appeareth but as the cloud did to Elijah's ser- 
 vant, * like a man's hand ;' but to Christ ' the hea- 
 vens were black with clouds and winds,' ' and it 
 showered down upon him as in a tempest of fire 
 and brimstone. We have not his eyes, and there- 
 
 1 1 Kings, xviif. 44. 
 
204 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 fore not his apprehension : we see not so much de- 
 formity in sin as he did, and so not so much terror 
 in the wrath of God. It were impiety and blas- 
 phemy to think that the blessed martyrs were more 
 patient than Christ; cujus natura patientia, "whose 
 very nature was patience:" 1 yet who of all that 
 noble army ever breathed forth such disconsolate 
 speeches ? God indeed delivered them up to the 
 saw, to the rack, to the wrath of lions, to all the 
 engines of cruelty, and shapes of death ; but did 
 they ever cry out, " they were forsaken ? " He 
 snatched them not from the rage of the persecutor 
 by a miracle ; but, behold a greater miracle : " In 
 all their torments they had more life and joy in 
 their countenances than they who looked on, who 
 were more troubled with the sight than the martyrs 
 were with the punishment." 8 Their torture was 
 their triumph ; their afflictions were their melody. 
 If weak they were made strong. " Torments, 
 racks, flames, and the last enemy, death itself, were 
 but a recreation and refreshment to Christians," 3 
 who suffered all these with the patience of a stand- 
 er-by. But what speak we of martyrs ? Divers 
 sinners (whose ambition never reached at such a 
 crown, but rather trembled at it) have been deli- 
 vered up to afflictions and crosses, nay to the anger 
 of God ; but never any, nay, not those who have 
 despaired, were so delivered as Christ. We may 
 
 1 Tertull. de Patientia. 
 
 2 Rident superantque dolores, 
 
 Spectanti similes. — Sil. Ital. lib. 1. 
 
 3 Tormenta, career, ungulae, 
 Stridensque flammis lamina, 
 Atque ipsa pcenarum ultima, 
 Mors, Christianis ludus est. 
 
 Prudent. Hymn, in laudem Vincentii Mar. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 205 
 
 say that the traitor Judas felt not so much when he 
 went and hanged himself. For though Christ 
 could not despair, yet the wrath of God was more 
 visible to him than to those that do, who bear but 
 their own burdens, whereas he lay pressed under 
 the sins of the whole world. God in his approaches 
 of justice, when he cometh toward the sinner to cor- 
 rect him, may seem to go like the consul of Rome, 
 with his rods and his axes carried before him. 
 Many sinners have felt his rod : and his ' rod is 
 comfort ; his frown favour ; his anger, love ; and his 
 blow a benefit. But Christ was struck, as it were, 
 with his axe. Others have trembled under his 
 wrath, but Christ was ' even consumed by the 
 stroke of his hand.' l Being delivered to God's 
 wrath, that wrath delivereth him to these throes 
 and agonies, — delivereth him to Judas ; who deli- 
 vereth, nay, betray eth him to the Jews ; who deli- 
 ver him to Pilate ; who delivered him to the cross ; 
 where the Saviour of the world must be murdered, 
 where innocency and truth itself hangeth between 
 two thieves. But his soul was crucified more than 
 his body, and his heart had sharper nails to pierce 
 it than his hands or feet. ' He delivered him, and 
 spared him not.' 
 
 But, to rise one step more : ' He delivered, and' 
 in a manner, ' forsook him ;' restrained his influ- 
 ence, denied relief, withdrew comfort, stood as it 
 were afar off, and let him fight it out unto death. 
 He ' looked, and there was none to help;' even 
 f to the Lord he called, but he. heard him not/ 9 
 'Avefio-qaE tyiovrf fXE-yaXy. He ' roared out for the 
 very grief of his heart,' 3 and 'cried, with a loud 
 
 1 Psalm xxxix. 10. * Isaiah, lxiii. 5. 8 Psalm xviii. 41. 
 
206 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 voice, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
 me ?' l And could God forsake him ? When he 
 hung upon the cross, did he not see ' the joy that 
 was set before him? ,s Yes, he did; but not to 
 comfort, but rather to torment him. • By the coun- 
 sel of the Godhead it was set down and determined 
 that his glory should add to his punishment :' 3 
 that his knowledge, which was more clear than a 
 seraphim's, should increase his grief; his glory, 
 his shame; his happiness, his misery; that there 
 should not only be vinegar in his drink and gall in 
 his honey, and myrrh with his spices ; but that his 
 drink should be vinegar, his honey, gall, and all his 
 spices as bitter as myrrh ; that his flowers should 
 be thorns, and his triumph, shame. This could 
 sin do ; and can we love it ? This could the love and 
 the wrath of God do — his love to his creature and 
 his wrath against sin. And what a delivery, what 
 a desertion was this, which did not deprive Christ 
 of strength, but enfeeble him with strength ; which 
 did not leave him in the dark, but punish him with 
 light! What a strange delivery was that, which 
 delivered him up without comfort, nay, which be- 
 trayed and delivered up his comforts themselves ! 
 What misery equal to that which maketh strength 
 a tormentor, knowledge a vexation, and joy and 
 glory a persecution ? There now hangeth his sa- 
 cred body on the cross, not so much afflicted with 
 his passion, as his soul was wounded with compas- 
 sion ; with compassion on his mother; with com- 
 passion on his disciples ; with compassion on the 
 Jews, who pierced him, for whom he prayeth when 
 
 1 Matt, xxvii. 46. 8 Heb. xii. 2. 
 
 3 Altissimo Divinitatis consilio actum est, ut gloria militare 
 In poenam. — Leo. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 207 
 
 they mock him ; which did manifest his divinity 
 as much as his miracles; — with compassion on the 
 temple, which was shortly to be levelled with the 
 ground ; — with compassion on all mankind ; bear- 
 ing the burden of all, dropping his pity and his 
 blood together upon them; feeling in himself the 
 torments of the blessed martyrs, the reproach of his 
 saints, the wounds of every broken heart, the po- 
 verty, diseases, and affliction of all his brethren to 
 the end of the world ; delivered to a sense of their 
 sins who feel them not, and to a sense of theirs who 
 groan under them ; delivered up to all the miseries 
 and sorrows, not only which himself then felt, but 
 which any man, which all men have felt or shall 
 feel to the time the trump shall sound, and he 
 shall come again in glory. The last delivery was 
 of his soul, which was indeed a traditio, a yielding 
 it up, a voluntary emission, or delivering it up 
 into his Father's hands. He preventeth the spear 
 and the hand of the executioner, and giveth up 
 the ghost. What shall I say ? or where shall I 
 end ? Who can fathom this depth ? The angels 
 stand amazed ; the heavens are hung with black ; 
 the earth openeth her mouth, and the grave her's, 
 and yieldeth up her dead ; the veil of the temple 
 rendeth asunder; the earth trembleth, and the 
 rocks are cleft. But neither art nor nature can 
 reach the depth of this wisdom and love : no 
 tongue, neither of the living nor of the dead, nei- 
 ther of men nor angels, is able to express it. The 
 most powerful eloquence is the threnody of a bro- 
 ken heart; for there Christ's death speaketh itself, 
 and the virtue and power of it reflecteth back 
 again upon him, and reacheth him at the right 
 
208 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 hand of God, where his wounds are open, his me- 
 rits vocal, interceding for us to the end of the 
 world. 
 
 We have now past two steps and degrees in this 
 scale of love, with wonder and astonishment, and, I 
 hope, with grief and love: we have passed through 
 a field of blood to the top of Mount Calvary, where 
 the Son of God, the Saviour of the world, is nailed 
 to the cross, and, being lifted up upon his cross, 
 looketh down upon us, to draw us after him. 
 Look then back upon him who looketh upon us, 
 whom our sins have pierced, and behold his blood 
 trickling down upon us ; which is one ascent more, 
 and bringeth in the persons for whom he was de- 
 livered : — First, * for us ;' secondly, ' for us all.' 
 
 III. Now that he should be delivered ' for us/ 
 is a contemplation full of delight and comfort, but 
 not so easy to digest. For if we reflect upon our- 
 selves, and there see nothing but confusion and 
 horror, we shall soon ask the question, Why ' for 
 us?' Why not for the lapsed angels, who fell 
 from their estate as we did? they, glorious spirits; 
 we, vile bodies ; they, heavenly spirits ; we, of the 
 earth, earthly, ready to sink to the earth, from 
 whence we came; they, immortal spirits; we, as 
 the grass, withered before we grew. Yet he 
 ' spared not his Son' to spare us ; but the angels 
 that fell ' he cast into hell,' and ' chained them 
 up" in everlasting darkness.' ' With the angels God 
 dealeth in rigour, and relenteth not; with us, in 
 favour and mercy. He seeketh after us, .and lay- 
 eth hold on us, being gone from him as far as sin 
 
 1 2 Pet. ii. 4. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B.D. 209 
 
 and disobedience could carry us out of his reach. 
 It was his love, his will, to do so : and in this we 
 might rest. But divines will tell us that man was a 
 fitter subject of mercy than the angels, because the 
 angels' sin was more spontaneous, wrought in them 
 by themselves : man had , importunam arborem, 
 that flattering and importuning tree, and that sub- 
 tle and seducing serpent, to urge and sway him 
 from his obedience : man had a tempter; the angels 
 were both the temptation and tempters to them- 
 selves : man took in death by looking abroad ; but 
 the angels, reflecting upon themselves, gazed so 
 long upon their own beauty, till they saw it 
 changed into horror and deformity; and the of- 
 fence is more pardonable, when the motive is from 
 without, than where it groweth up of itself. Be- 
 sides, the angels did not all fall ; but the whole 
 lump of mankind was leavened with the same lea- 
 ven ; and pity it may seem, that so noble a crea- 
 ture, made after God's own image, should be ut- 
 terly lost. These reasons, with others, we may 
 admit ; though they may seem rather to be conjec- 
 tures than reasons, and we have no such light in 
 Scripture to give them a fairer appearance. But 
 the Scripture is plain, that he * took not the an- 
 gels;' * he did not lay his hands upon them, to 
 redeem them to liberty, and strike off their bonds. 
 And we must go out of the world to find the rea- 
 son, and seek the true cause in the bosom of the 
 Father, nay in the bowels of his Son, and there see 
 the cause why he was delivered for us, written in 
 his heart. It was ' the love of God to mankind.' * 
 And what was in mankind but enmity and hos- 
 
 1 Heb. ii. 16. a Tit. iii. 4. 
 
 P 
 
210 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 tility, sin and deformity ? which are no proper 
 motives to draw on love. And yet God loved us, 
 and hated sin, and made haste to deliver as from 
 it. Dilexisti me, Domine, plusquam te, quando 
 mori voluhti pro me, saith Augustine : "Lord, 
 when thou diedst for me, thou madest it manifest 
 that my soul was dearer to thee than thyself.' 
 Such a high esteem did he set upon a soul, which 
 we scarce honour with a thought, but so live as if 
 we had none. For us men then, and for us sin- 
 ners, was Christ delivered. The prophet Isaiah 
 speaketh it ; and he could not speak it properly 
 of any but him : ' He was wounded for our trans- 
 gressions, he was bruised for our iniquities/ * So 
 that he was delivered up, not only to the cross and 
 shame, but to our sins, which nailed him to the 
 cross ; which not only crucified him in his hu-* 
 mility, but crucify him still in his glory, now he 
 sitteth at the right hand of God ; and ' put him to 
 shame,' to the end of the world. Why complain 
 we of the Jews' malice ? or Judas's treachery ? or 
 Pilate's injustice ? We, we alone, are they who 
 crucified the Lord of life. Our treachery was the 
 Judas which betrayed him; our malice the Jew 
 which accused him; our perjury the false witness 
 against him; our injustice the Pilate that con- 
 demned him. Our pride scorned him ; our envy 
 grinned at him ; our luxury spat upon him ; our 
 covetousness sold him. Our corrupt blood was 
 drawn out of his wounds, our swellings pricked 
 with his thorns, our sores lanced with his spear, 
 and the whole ' body of sin' stretched out and cru- 
 cified with the Lord of life. He ' delivered him 
 
 1 Isaiah, liii. 6. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 211 
 
 up for us sinners/ No sin there is which his biood 
 will not wash away, but final impenitency, which 
 is not so much a sin as the sealing up of the body 
 of sin, when the measure is full. For us sinners — 
 for the progeny of an arch-traitor, and as great 
 traitors as he. Take us at our worst ; if we re- 
 pent, he was ' delivered for us.' And if we do not 
 repent, yet he may be said to be * delivered for 
 us ;' for he was delivered for us to that end, that we 
 might repent. For us sinners he was delivered ; 
 for us, ' when we were without strength ;' for us, 
 when we were ' ungodly/ l So we were consi- 
 dered in this great work of redemption. And thus 
 high are we gone in this scale and ladder of love. 
 
 There is one step more. He was delivered ' for 
 us all;' — all, not considered as elect or reprobate, 
 but as men, as sinners ; for that name will take in 
 all; for 'all have sinned/ 2 And here we are 
 taught to make a stand, and not to touch too 
 hastily. ' For all.' This some will not touch ; 
 and yet they do touch and press it with that vio- 
 lence that they press it almost into nothing ; make 
 'the world' not 'the world,' and"' whosoever ' not 
 ' whosoever,' but some certain men ; and turn ' all' 
 into ' a few ;' deduct whom they please out of ' all 
 people, nations, and languages,' and out of Chris- 
 tendom itself; leave some few with Christ upon 
 the cross, whose persons he beareih, whom they 
 call the elect — and mean themselves. ' So God 
 loved the world ;' 3 that is the elect, say they : they 
 are the world — where it is hard to find them ; for 
 they are called out of it. If the elect be ' the world' 
 
 1 Rom. v. 6, 8. s Rom. v. 12. 
 
 a John, iii. 16. 
 
 p2 , 
 
212 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 which God so loved, then they are such elect as 
 may not believe, such elect as may perish, and 
 whom God will have perish if they do not believe. 
 It is true, none have benefit of Christ's death but 
 the elect ; but from hence it doth not follow that 
 no other might have had. Theirs is the kingdom : 
 but are not they shut out now, who might have 
 made it theirs ? ' God,' saith St. Peter, ' would 
 not that any should perish ;' 1 and, * God is the Sa- 
 viour of all men/ saith St. Paul, ' but especially of 
 them that believe ; ,s all, if they believe and repent; 
 and those who are obedient to the gospel, because 
 they do. The blood of Christ is poured forth on 
 the believer ; and with it he sprinkleth his heart, 
 and is saved ; the wicked trample it under their 
 feet and perish. The blood of Christ is sufficient 
 to wash away the sins of the world, nay of a thou- 
 sand worlds. Christ paid down a ransom of so infi- 
 nite a value that it might redeem all that are, or 
 possibly might be, under captivity. But none are 
 actually redeemed but they who make him their 
 captain, and do as he commandeth ; that is, believe 
 and repent. In this all agree — in this they are 
 brethren ; and why should they fall out, when both 
 uphold the privilege of the believer, and leave 
 the rod of the stubborn impenitent to fall upon 
 him ? " The death of Christ is not applied to all," 
 say some : * It is not for all," say others. " The 
 virtue of Christ's meritorious passion is not made 
 use of by all," say some ; " It was never intended 
 that it should," say others. And the event is the 
 same : for if it be not made use of and applied, it 
 is as if it were not ; as if it had never been obtained : 
 
 1 2 Pet. iii i). * 1 Tim. iy. 10. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 213 
 
 only the unbeliever is left under the greater con- 
 demnation, who turned away from Christ, who 
 spake unto him, not only from heaven, but from 
 his cross, and refused that grace which was offered 
 him; which could not befal him if there had never 
 been any such overture made. For how can one 
 refuse that which never concerned him ? how can 
 he forfeit that pardon which was never sealed ? 
 how can he despise the spirit of graee which never 
 breathed towards him ? They who are so tender 
 and jealous of Christ's blood, that no drop must 
 fall but where they direct it, do but undermine and 
 shake one truth with another; 1 set up the parti- 
 cular love of God to believers, to overthrow his ge- 
 neral love to mankind ; confound the virtue of 
 Christ's passion with its effect, and draw them to- 
 gether within the same narrow compass ; bring it 
 under a decree, that it can save no more than it 
 doth, because it hath its bounds set ; — ' hitherto it 
 shall go, and no further;' and was ordained to 
 quicken some, but to withdraw itself from others, 
 as shut out and hid from the light and force of it, 
 from having any title to it, long before even they 
 saw the sun. Thus they shorten the hand of God, 
 when it is stretched out to ail; bound his love, 
 which is proffered to all ; stint the blood of Christ, 
 which gusheth out upon all ; and circumscribe his 
 mercy, which is large enough to cover all. And 
 the reason is no better than the position : To make 
 salvation more precious and estimable, it must be 
 rare. * Then it is most glorious, when it is a pecu- 
 liar, and entailed on a few. Why should the love 
 
 1 Veritatem veritate concutere. 
 
 8 Quod vis esse charum, effice ut sit rarum. 
 
214 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 of God be a common thing ? I answer, why should 
 it not be common, since he is pleased to have it so ? 
 Why should we cast away so many, to endear a 
 few ? Can there be any glory in that privilege 
 which is writ with the blood of so many millions ? 
 Why should not God's love be common, since he 
 would have it not only common, but communicated 
 to all, and expresseth himself as one grieved, and 
 troubled, and -angry, because it is not so ? Why 
 should we fear God's love should be cast away by 
 being proffered to many ? His love of friendship 
 and complacency, to those whom he calleth his 
 friends, cannot be lost, but is as eternal as himself: 
 it assisteth and upholdeth them, and will crown 
 them everlastingly. Nor is his general love of good 
 will and affection lost, though it be lost : for it is 
 even with him, even when the wicked are in hell. 
 Christ's blood is ever in the flow, though there be 
 but few that take the tide, and are carried along 
 with it. God's goodness is larger than his benefi- 
 cence. ' He doth not do what good he can ; or 
 rather, he doth not do what good he would ; be- 
 cause we fall back, and will not receive it. We 
 will not suffer him to be good ; we will not suffer 
 him to be merciful ; . we will not suffer him to save 
 us. * This is the condemnation of the world, that 
 light came into the world, and men loved dark- 
 ness more than light. s The philosopher will tell 
 us, that the Indians live at the Very rising of the 
 sun, yet their bodies are black and swarthy, and 
 resemble the night. 3 So, many there be who live 
 
 1 Plus est bonitas Dei quam beneficentia. 
 8 John, iii. 19. 
 
 3 Ad nascentem solem siti sunt, tamen in corpore color 
 noctis est. — Apul. Flor. i. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 215 
 
 ti the very region of light, where the beams fall 
 upon them warm and pure, and are darted at their 
 very eyes, and yet they remain the children of 
 darkness. " Christ was delivered for all, is a true 
 proposition : it is infidelity alone that can make it 
 heretical." l And yet it is true still, though to him 
 that believeth not it is of no more use than if it were 
 false. He was delivered for thee ; but thou wilt 
 not receive him. His passion is absolute ; but 
 thou art impenitent. He died for Judas, who be- 
 trayed him; but will not save Judas, that de- 
 spaired and hanged himself. Infidelity and im- 
 penitency are the worst restrictives, that limit and 
 draw down to particulars a proposition so profit- 
 ably general, and bound so saving a universal; 
 that contract and sink all into a few. 
 
 To conclude this. Christ hanging on the cross 
 looketh upon all ; but all do not cast an eye, and 
 look up in faith upon him. He was delivered to 
 deliver all; but all will not be delivered. Our 
 whole nature is united in Christ's person ; not the 
 persons of a few, but our whole nature : and our 
 whole nature is of compass large enough to take in 
 all. 8 And in that common nature of man he 
 offered up himself on the cross for the sin of all, 
 that he might ' take away the sin of the world* 3 — 
 destroy the very species and being of it. Which 
 though it be not done, cannot be imputed to any 
 scantiness or deficiency of virtue in his blood, 
 which is of power to purge out sin wherever it is, 
 if the heart that fostereth sin be ready and willing 
 
 1 Facit infidelitas multorum ut Christus non pro omnibus 
 moriatur, qui pro omnibus mortuus est. — S. Ambros. 
 * Omnis natura nostra in Christi hypostasi. 
 3 John, i. 29. 
 
216 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 to receive and apply it. And in this common na- 
 ture of man (not from Abraham or David only, 
 as St. Matthew, but even from the first man Adam 
 himself, as St. Luke carrieth up his genealogy) 
 did Christ offer up himself upon the cross. And 
 in this common nature he presented himself be- 
 fore his Father. And now God looketh upon 
 Christ and mankind as our eye doth upon light, 
 and colours, which cannot be seen without light. 
 Before this ' light came into the world/ we were 
 covered over with darkness and deformity, and 
 God could not look upon us but in anger; but 
 through this common light we may be seen and be 
 beloved, we may be seen with pleasure. For as 
 God is delighted in his Son, so in him he is ' well 
 pleased' in those ' sons which he shall bring with 
 him to glory.' 1 But if we will fully withdraw 
 ourselves from this light, then doth ' his soul hate 
 us.' 2 Christ is ■ the brightness of his glory' 3 — light 
 enough for God to look through upon a thousand 
 worlds multiplied a thousand times. And if we 
 do not hide ourselves from it, hide ourselves in the 
 caverns of the earth — in the world ; if we do not 
 drown ourselves in the bottom of the sea — in the 
 deluge of our lusts; if we do not bury ourselves 
 alive in stubborn impenitency ; if we do not stop 
 up all the passages of our souls; if we do not 
 still ' love darkness,' and ' make it a pavilion 
 round about us;' 4 he will look upon us through 
 this light, and look lovingly upon us with favour 
 and affection. He will look upon us as his pur- 
 chase; and he that 'delivered his Son for us will 
 
 1 Heb. ii. 10. 9 Psalm xi. 5. 
 
 3 Heb. 1. 3. * Psalm xviii. 2. 
 

 BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 217 
 
 with him also freely give us all things : y — which is 
 the end of all, the end of Christ's being delivered, 
 and offereth itself to our consideration in the last 
 place. 
 
 TV. God ' delivered,' God • sent/ God ' gave* 
 his Son. All these expressions we find to make 
 him a gift. He is 'the desire/ and he is the 
 riches 'of all nations.' 1 As whatsoever we do 
 we must do ; so whatsoever we have, we receive in 
 his name. ' The name of Jesus/ said St. Peter, of 
 the impotent man, ' hath made this man strong.' 8 
 By his name we are justified; by his name we 
 are sanctified ; by his name we shall enter into 
 glory. With him we have all things ; for ' in 
 him are all the treasures of riches and wisdom.' 3 
 We may think of all the kingdoms of the earth and 
 the glory of them ; but these come not within the 
 compass, nor are they to be reckoned amongst his do- 
 nations. For, as the naturalists observe of the glory 
 of the rainbow, that it is wrought in our eye, and not 
 in the cloud, and that there is no such pleasing va- 
 riety of colours there as we see ; so the pomp and 
 riches and glory of this world are of themselves 
 nothing, but are the works of our opinion, and the 
 creations of our fancy, and have no worth or 
 price but what our lusts and desires set upon them. 
 It is our luxury which hath raised the market, and 
 made them valuable and in esteem, which of them- 
 selves have nothing to recommend them and set 
 them off. 4 My covetousness maketh that which is 
 but earth a god ; my ambition maketh that which 
 is but air an heaven ; and my wantonness walketh 
 
 Hag. ii. 7. a Acts, iii. 16. 3 Col. ii. 3 
 
 4 Luxuria his pretium fecit. 
 
218 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 in the midst of pleasures as in a paradise. There 
 is no such things as riches and poverty, honour and 
 meanness, trouble and pleasure ; but we have made 
 them, and we make the distinction. There are no 
 such plants grow up in this world of themselves; 
 but we set them and water them, and they spread 
 themselves, and cast a • shadow,' and we walk in 
 this shadow, and delight or ' disquiet ourselves in 
 vain.' 1 How many heroic persons lie in chains, 
 whilst folly and baseness walk at large ? And no 
 doubt there have been many who have looked 
 through the paint of the pleasures of this life, and 
 beheld them as monsters ; and then made it their 
 pleasure and triumph to contemn them. And yet 
 we will not quite exclude and shut out riches and 
 the things of this world from the sum : for with 
 Christ they are something ; and they are then most 
 valuable when for his sake we can fling them 
 away. It is he alone that can make riches a gift, 
 and poverty a gift ; honour a gift, and dishonour a 
 gift ; pleasure a gift, and trouble a gift ; life a gift, 
 and death a gift. By this power they are recon- 
 ciled and drawn together, and are but one and the 
 same thing. If we look up into heaven, there we 
 shall see them in a near conjunction, even the poor 
 lazar ■ in the rich man's bosom.' 8 In the night 
 there is no difference to the eye between a pearl 
 and a pebble, between the choicest beauty and 
 most abhorred deformity. In the night the deceit- 
 fulness of riches and the glory of affliction lie hid 
 and are not seen, or appear in a contrary shape; — 
 in the false shape of terror, where it is not ; or of 
 glory, where it is not to be found. But when the 
 
 1 Psalm xxxix. 6. 2 Luke, xvi. 23. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 219 
 
 light of Christ's countenance shineth upon them, 
 then they are seen as they are ; and we behold so 
 much deceitfulness in the one that we dare not 
 trust them, and so much hope and advantage in the 
 other, that we begin to rejoice in them, and so 
 make them both conducible to that end for which 
 he was delivered, and our convoys to happiness. 
 
 f All things' is of a large compass, large enough 
 to take in the whole world. But then it is the 
 world transformed and altered, the world conquered 
 by faith, the world in subjection to Christ. 'All 
 things are ours,' when 'we are Christ's.' 1 There 
 is a civil dominion and right to these things ; and 
 this we have by right of creation, for 'the earth 
 is the Lord's,' and he hath given it to the sons 
 of men. And there is an evangelical dominion ; 
 not the power of having them, but the power 
 of using them to God's glory ; that they may 
 be a gift: and this we have by right of adop- 
 tion, as the sons of God, begotten in Christ. Christ 
 came not into the world to purchase it for us, 
 or instate us in it. He did not suffer, that we 
 might be wanton ; nor was poor, that we might be 
 rich ; nor was brought to the dust of death, that we 
 might be set in high places. Such a Messiah did 
 the Jews look for; and such a Messiah do some 
 Christians, worse than the Jews, frame to them- 
 selves ; and in his name they ' beat their fellow- 
 servants,' 2 and strip them, deceive and defraud 
 them, because they fancy themselves to be his, 
 ' in whom there was found no guile.' They are 
 in the world as the mad Athenian was on the 
 
 1 1 Cor. iii. 22, 23. 2 Matt. xxiv. 49. 
 
220 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 shore ; every ship, every house, every lordship is 
 theirs. And indeed, they have as fair a title to 
 their brother's estate as they have to the king- 
 dom of heaven; for they have nothing" to show 
 for either. St. Paul calleth the devil the god of 
 this world ; and these in effect make him the savi- 
 our of the world ; for, as if he had been lifted up 
 and nailed to the cross for them, to him every knee 
 doth bow, nor will they receive the true Messiah- 
 but in this shape. They conceive him giving gifts 
 unto men; not spiritual, but temporal; not the 
 graces of the Spirit, humility, meekness, and con- 
 tentedness ; but silver and gold : dividing inherit- 
 ances, removing of land-marks, giving to Ziba Me- 
 phibosheth's land ; making not saints, but kings 
 upon the earth. Thus they of the church of Rome 
 have set it down for a positive truth, that all civil 
 dominion is founded in grace, that is, in Christ ; a 
 doctrine which bringeth with it a pick-lock and a 
 sword, and giveth men power to spoil whom they 
 please, to take from them that which is theirs 
 either by fraud or by violence, and to do both in 
 the name and power of Christ. But let no man 
 make his charter larger than it is. In the gospel 
 we find none of such trti extent as may reach to 
 every man, to every corner of the earth ; as may 
 measure out the world, and put into our hands 
 any part of it that either our wit or our power can 
 take in. Christ never drew any such convey- 
 ance ; the gospel brought no such tidings. But 
 when honest labour and industry have brought 
 riches in, Christ setteth a seal, imprinteth a blessing 
 on them, sanctifieth them unto us by the word and 
 prayer ; and so maketh them ours, our servants to 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 221 
 
 minister unto us, and our friends to promote us 
 unto ' everlasting habitations.' l 
 
 Our charter is large enough, and we need not in- 
 terline it with those glosses which the flesh and the 
 love of the world will soon suggest. With Christ we 
 have ' all things' which work to that end for which 
 he was delivered. We have his commands, which 
 are the pledges of his love : for he gave us them that 
 he might give us more, that he might give us a crown. 
 We have his promises of immortality and eternal 
 life. Faciet hoc : nam qui prbmisit est potens : ' he 
 shall do it, for he is able to perform it.' With him 
 every word shall stand. He hath given us faith 
 (that is the gift of God) to apprehend and receive 
 the promises; and hope, to lift us up unto them. He 
 hath given us his pastors to teach us (that is scarce 
 looked upon as a gift: but then) he hath given us 
 his angels to minister unto us, He hath given us 
 his Spirit, and filled us with his grace, if we will 
 receive it ; which will make his commands, which 
 are now grievous, easy ; his promises, which are 
 rich, profitable : which may carry us on in a regu- 
 lar and peaceable course of piety and obedience ; 
 which is our angel, which is our God ; and we call 
 it grace. All these things we have with Christ. 
 And the apostle doth not only tell us that God 
 doth give us them ; but, to put it out of doubt, 
 challengeth, as it were, the whole world to show how 
 it should be otherwise : ' how will he not with him 
 also freely give us all things ?' This question 
 addeth energy and weight, and emphasis, and 
 maketh the position more positive, the affirmation 
 
 1 Luke, xxv. 9. 
 
222 THE ATONEMENT. 
 
 more strong, and the truth of it more persuasive 
 and convincing. ' Shall he not give us all things?' 
 It is impossible but he should. It is more possi- 
 ble for ' a city upon a hill to be hid,' ' than for him 
 to hide his favour from us ; more possible for heaven 
 to sink into hell, or for hell to raise itself up to 
 God's mercy-seat, than for him to withhold any 
 thmg from them to whom he hath given his Son. 
 Impossible it is, c2»c ovk 'ivkoyov, as ** most incon- 
 venient," as that which is against his wisdom and his 
 justice and his goodness, and u>g a/3«X^rov, as "ab- 
 horrent to his will," to deny us any thing. In brief, 
 if the ? earth' be not ' as iron,' ' the heavens cannot 
 'be as brass.' 8 God cannot but give when we are 
 fit to receive ; and in Christ we are made capable. 
 When he descendeth, mercy descendeth with him in 
 full shower of blessings, to make our souls as the 
 paradise of God, to quicken our faith, to rouse up 
 our hope. And in this light, in this assurance, in 
 this heaven, we are bold, with St. Paul, to put up the 
 question against all doubts, all fears, all temptations 
 that may assault 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 ?' 
 
 And now we have passed up every step and de- 
 gree of this scale and ladder of love, and seen 
 Christ delivered and nailed to the cross. And from 
 thence he looked down, and speaketh to us to the 
 end of the world. " The cross on which he suf- 
 fered was the chair of his profession." 3 And from 
 this chair we are taught humility, constant patience, 
 
 1 Matt. v. 14. 8 Deut. xxviii. 23. 
 
 3 Crux patientis fuit cathedra docentis. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 223 
 
 perfect obedience, an exact art and method of 
 living well, drawn out in several lines. What was 
 ambitiously said of Homer, that if all sciences 
 were lost, they might be found in him, may most 
 truly be said of Christ's cross and passion: that 
 if all the characters of innocency, humility, obe- 
 dience, love, had been lost, they might here be 
 found in libro vita Agni, in the book of the life — 
 nay, of the death — of ' the Lamb, slain from the 
 foundation of the world ; ' ' yet now nailed to the 
 cross. 
 
 Let us then, with love and reverence, look upon 
 him who thus looked upon us. Let us put on our 
 crucified Jesus, that is, as Chrysostom, " every virtue" 
 —his humility, his patience, his obedience ; and so 
 ' bear about with us the dying of our Lord,' 8 and draw 
 the picture of a crucified Saviour in ourselves. To 
 this end was he delivered up for us, to this end we 
 must receive him, that we may glorify God, as he 
 hath glorified him on earth. For God's glory and 
 our salvation are twisted together and wrought as 
 it were in the same thread, and linked together in 
 the same bond of peace. \ I will deliver thee, and 
 thou shalt glorify me;' 3 thus it runneth; and it 
 runneth on evenly in a stream of love. 
 
 Oh ! how must it needs delight him to see his 
 gift prosper in our hands ; to see us delivering up 
 ourselves to him who was thus * delivered for us;' 
 to see his purchase, those who were bought with 
 this price, made his * peculiar people.' * Lift' then 
 'up the gates' of your souls, 'that this King of 
 
 1 Rev. xiii. 8. s 2 Cor. iv. 10. 
 
 3 Psalm 1. 15. 
 
224 THE ATONE MENT, 
 
 glory may come in.' 1 If you seek salvation, you 
 must seek the glory of God; and if you seek the 
 glory of God, you shall find it in your salvation. 
 Thou mayest cry,lo ! " Here it is," or, "There it is ;" 
 — but here it is found. The few may seek salvation 
 in the law ; the superstitious, in ceremony and bodily 
 exercise; the zealot in the fire and the whirlwind ; 
 the fantastic lazy Christian, in a thought, in a 
 dream ; and the profane libertine in hell itself: 
 but then, then alone we find it, when we meet it 
 in conjunction with the glory of God, which 
 shineth most gloriously in a crucified Christ, and 
 in an obedient Christian made conformable to him, 
 and so ' bearing about in him the marks of the 
 Lord Jesus.' 2 
 
 To conclude then : since God ' hath delivered 
 up his own Son for us all,' and ( with him given 
 us all things,' let us open our hearts and receive 
 him ; that is, believe in his name ; that is, be 
 faithful to him ; that is, love him, and keep his 
 commandments, which is our conformity to his 
 death. And then he will give us — what will he 
 give us ? He will heap gift upon gift, give us 
 ' power to become the sons of God.' 3 Let us re- 
 ceive Christ in his shame, in his sorrow, in his 
 agony, — take him hanging on the cross ; take him, 
 and take a pattern by him : that, as he was, so 
 we may be troubled for our sins; that we may 
 mingle our tears with his blood ; drag sin to the 
 bar; accuse, and condemn it; revile and spit 
 in its face, at the fairest presentment it can 
 
 1 Pealm xxiv. 7, 9. » Gal. vi. 17- 
 
 3 John, i. 12. 
 
BY ANTHONY FARINDON, B. D. 226 
 
 make ; and then nail it to the cross, that it may 
 languish and faint by degrees, till it give up the 
 ghost, and die in us. Then lie we down in peace 
 in the grave, and expect a glorious resurrection ; 
 when we shall receive Christ, not in humility, but 
 in majesty, and with him all hia riches and abun- 
 dance, all his promises, even glory, and immortality, 
 and eternal life. 
 
SERMON XL 
 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 BY DR. SOUTH. 
 
 [Robert South was born in 1631, and died in 1716. 
 
SERMON XI. 
 
 Isaiah, Lilt. 8. 
 
 For the transgression of my people was he 
 
 stricken. 
 
 This great and eloquent prophet, the evangelist of 
 the Jewish church, (as without any impropriety he 
 may be called,) from the 13th verse of the foregoing 
 chapter to the end of this, seems wrapped up with 
 the contemplation of a great person under strange 
 and unusual afflictions ; whose character, with all 
 the heights of rhetoric which the genius of grief 
 and prophecy together could raise him to, he here 
 sets himself with full purpose to describe. In all 
 which description there is no one passage, which 
 does not speak something extraordinary and super- 
 natural of the person described, and withal repre- 
 sent the describer of it in the highest degree of 
 ecstacy and rapture ; so that nothing could trans- 
 cend the height of the expression, but the sublimity 
 of its subject. For still it fastens upon him the 
 marks and tokens of something more than a man, 
 indeed more than a creature ; ascribing actions to 
 him, which surmount any created power; and so 
 
230 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 visibly, upon all principles of reason, above the 
 strength and reach of the strongest arm of flesh, 
 that if the person here spoken of be but a man, I 
 am sure it requires the wit of more than a man to 
 make sense of the prophecy. Who that great per- 
 son therefore was, here so magnificently set forth by 
 the* prophet, is the thing now to be inquired into. In 
 which inquiry we shall find several opinions, and 
 every one of them pretending to givcthe right in- 
 terpretation of the place. I shall reduce them all 
 to these two : 
 
 First, the opinion of the ancient ; 
 
 Secondly, the opinion of some later, interpreters. 
 
 1. As for the ancient interpreters I may boldly 
 and truly say, that it was the general sense of all 
 the old Jewish rabbies, that the person intended in 
 this prophecy was the Messias. Take the affirma- 
 tion of rabbi Alschech, in his comment upon this 
 prophecy : " Our rabbies of blessed memory unan- 
 imously agree with the received tradition, that the 
 Messias is here spoken of." ■ And though their opi- 
 nion of the temporal greatness of their Messias might 
 (if any thing) tempt them to draw this prophecy 
 another way, (since it declares the low, abject, and 
 oppressed condition of the person here treated of,) 
 yet to show that a suffering Messias was no such 
 paradox in the divinity of the ancient Jewish 
 rabbies, it was a constant received speech among 
 them, that dividing all the afflictions of the people 
 of God into three parts, one third was to fall upon 
 the Messias. 
 
 And as for the doctors and fathers of the Chris- 
 tian church, they do all with one unanimous breath 
 
 1 Rabbini nostri beatae memoriae uno ore statuunt juxta 
 receptam traditionem hie de rege Messia sermonem esse. 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 231 
 
 declare this to be a prophecy of the Messias, and 
 this Messias to be Jesus Christ. And so full are 
 they to this purpose, that Esaias, upon the account 
 of this prophecy, is styled by some of them Evange- 
 lista, and Paulus Propheticus. Nor was ever the 
 least intimation given of any other sense of it, till, 
 a little before this last century, a new Christianity 
 has endeavoured to get footing in the Christian 
 world. 
 
 2. The other opinion is of the later interpre- 
 ters ; amongst whom I account the Jewish, that is, 
 such as have wrote a thousand years since Christ's 
 time ; whose opinion in this matter will be found 
 to have this eminent property of falsity, that it is 
 very various. For having departed from the old 
 received interpretation, they are no ways agreed 
 what they shall substitute in the room of it. Some 
 will have the subject of this prophecy to have been 
 the people of Israel. Some, indefinitely, any just or 
 righteous person. Some affirm it to have been Josiah ; 
 and one amongst the rest will needs have the person 
 here spoken of to have been the prophet Jeremy. 
 The authors of each of which opinions give us such 
 insipid stories upon this chapter, as are fitter to be 
 ushered in with the grave and solemn preface of 
 " once upon a time" than to be accounted interpre- 
 tations of the word of God. 
 
 Taking it for manifest, therefore, and that upon 
 all the grounds of rational and unforced interpreta- 
 tion, that the person here spoken of was the Mes- 
 sias, and that this Messias could be no other than 
 Jesus of Nazareth, the great Mediator of the second 
 covenant, ' very God, and very man/ in whom 
 every tittle of this prophecy is most exactly verified, 
 and to whom it does most peculiarly and incom- 
 
232 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 municably agree : we shall proceed now to take an 
 account of the several parts of the text, in which 
 we have these three things considerable. 
 
 First, the suffering itself, ' He was stricken.' 
 
 Secondly, the nature of the suffering, which was 
 penal, and expiatory, ' He was stricken for trans- 
 gression:' and' 
 
 Thirdly, the ground and cause of this suffering, 
 which was God's propriety in, and relation to the 
 persons for whom Christ was stricken, implied in 
 this word, ' my people.' • For the transgression of 
 my people was he stricken.' 
 
 Of each of which in their order : and 
 
 I. For the suffering itself: 'He was stricken.' 
 The very word imports violence and invasion from 
 without. It was not a suffering upon the stock of 
 the mere internal weaknesses of nature, which car- 
 ries the seeds and causes of its dissolution in its 
 own bowels, and so by degrees withers and decays, 
 and at length dies, like a lamp that for want of oil 
 can burn no longer; but like a torch in its full 
 flame beat and ruffled, and at length blown out, by 
 the breath of a north wind : so was Christ dealt 
 with in the very prime and vigour of his years, 
 being by main force torn and stricken out of the 
 world. Blows did the work of time, and stripes 
 and spears were instead of age to put a period to 
 his afflicted life. Now the greatness of this suf- 
 fering will be made out to us upon these three ac- 
 counts. 
 
 First, upon the account of the latitude and ex- 
 tent of it. 
 
 Secondly, of the intenseness and sharpness of 
 it: and, 
 
 Thirdly, of the person inflicting it. 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 233 
 
 1. As for the latitude or extent of it. The 
 blow reached every part of his humanity, carrying 
 the grief all over, till by an universal diffusion of 
 itself, it entered, according- to the Psalmist's expres- 
 sion, ' like water into his bowels, or like oil into 
 his bones.' It spread itself into every part of his 
 body, as if it had been another soul. Nothing- was 
 free from suffering that could surfer. Suffering 
 seemed to be his portion, his inheritance, nay his 
 very property. Even the religion, that he came 
 to propagate and establish, was a suffering religion; 
 and, by the severest method of establishment, he 
 gave the first and the greatest instance of it in him- 
 self. He, who would recount every part of Christ 
 that suffered, must read a lecture of anatomy. 
 From the crown of the head to the sole of the foot 
 there was nothing but the traces of pain and suf- 
 fering : ' they made long furrows upon his back,' 
 says the Psalmist ; they did (as it were) tear 
 and plough up his innocent body. In his person 
 we might have seen grief in its height and supre- 
 macy ; grief triumphant, crowned and arrayed in 
 purple; grief reigning and doing the utmost that 
 it was able. It is a subject too well known, and 
 too frequently discoursed of, to make descriptions 
 of the thorns, the spears, and the nails that acted 
 their several parts in this tragedy ; and that so, 
 that Jjie very narrative of our Saviour's passion 
 cannot but beget another in every pious hearer of 
 it. But when we have said the utmost of his 
 bodily sufferings, we still know that nature has 
 provided a support able to mate and stand up 
 against all these; for the strength and firmness of 
 a resolved mind will bear a man above his infir- 
 mity, as the breath bears up the body from sink- 
 
234 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 ing: but when the supporter itself fails, when the 
 primum vivens and the ultimum moriens has had a 
 mortal blow, and the iron enters into the vei;y 
 soul, then baffled nature must surrender and quit 
 the combat, unless seconded and held up by some- 
 thing greater and mightier than itself. And this 
 was our Saviour's condition. There was a sword 
 which reached his very spirit, and pierced his soul, 
 till it bled through his body ; for they were the 
 struggles and agonies of the inward man, the la- 
 bours and strivings of his restless thoughts, which 
 cast his body into that prodigious sweat. For 
 though it was the flesh that sweated, it was the 
 spirit that took the pains. It was that, which 
 was then « treading the wine-press of God's wrath 
 alone,' till it made him red in his apparel, and 
 dyed all his garments with blood. What thought 
 can reach, or tongue express, what our Saviour 
 then felt within his own breast! The image of all 
 the sins of the world for which he was to sutler, 
 then appeared clear and lively, and express, to his 
 mind. All the vile and horrid circumstances ol 
 them stood (as it were) particularly ranged before 
 his eyes in all their dismal colours. He saw how 
 much the honour of the great God was abused by 
 them, and how many millions of poor souls they 
 must inevitably have cast under the pressures of a 
 wrath infinite and intolerable, should he net have 
 turned the blow upon himself: the horror of which 
 then filled and amazed his vast apprehensive soul ; 
 and those apprehensions could not but affect his ten- 
 der heart, then brimful of the highest zeal for God's 
 glory, and the most relenting compassion for the souls 
 of men ; till it fermented and boiled over with trans- 
 port and agony, and even forced its way through all 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 235 
 
 his body in those strange ebullitions of blood, not 
 to be paralleled by the sufferings of any person 
 recorded in any history whatsoever. It was this 
 which drew those doleful words from him, ' My 
 soul is exceeding sorrowful/ &c. TrepiXv-rroQ t^iv ij 
 ipvxfi /jut. It was surrounded and (as it were) be- 
 sieged with an army of sorrows. And believe it, 
 his soul was too big, and of too strong a make to 
 bend under an ordinary sorrow. It was not any 
 of those little things, which make us put the finger 
 in the eye, as loss of estate, friends, preferment, 
 interest, and the like ; things too mean to raise a 
 tumult in the breast of a resolved stoic, and much 
 less in his, who both placed and preached happi- 
 ness, not only in the want, but in the very defiance 
 of them. 
 
 And now, after this, his agony in the garden, I 
 need not much insist upon the wounds given his 
 reputation by the sword of a blaspheming- tongue, 
 the sharpest of all others, and which, like a poi- 
 soned dagger, hurting both with edge and venom 
 too, at the same time both makes a wound and 
 prevents its cure. Even a guilty person feels the 
 sting of a malicious report ; and if so, much more 
 must one who is innocent ; and yet infinitely more 
 must he, who was not only innocent, but innocence 
 itself. * Reputation is tender, and for it to be 
 blown upon is to be tainted ; like a glass, the clearer 
 and finer it is, the more it suffers by the least 
 breath. And therefore for him, who came to de- 
 stroy the kingdom of Satan, to be traduced as a 
 partner with, and an agent for Belzebub ; for 
 him, whose greatest repasts were prayer and absti- 
 nence, and the most rigid severities upon himself, 
 to be taxed as a wine-bibber and a good fellow ; 
 
236 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 for him, who came into the world, both in life and 
 death to bear witness to the truth, to suffer as an 
 impostor and a deceiver, what could be more 
 grievous and afflicting to a great innocence, joined 
 with as great an apprehension ! 
 
 However, his church gains this great advan- 
 tage of comfort by it, that the worst of sufferings 
 comes sanctified to our hands by the person of 
 our grand , example ; who was reviled and slan- 
 dered, and tossed upon the tongues of men, before 
 us. A greater martyrdom questionless than to be 
 cast, as the primitive Christians were, to the mouths 
 of lions, which are tender and merciful compared 
 to the mouths of men ; whether we look upon that 
 bitter spirit which acted in those Jews, or in some 
 Christians now a-days, worse than Jews ; men who 
 seem to have outdone all before them in the arts 
 of a more refined malice, and improved calumny ; 
 qualities lately sprung up out of the stock of a 
 spreading atheism, and a domineering, reigning 
 sensuality ; sins now made national and authentic, 
 and so much both judgment and mercy-proof, that 
 it is well if we can be cured without being cut off. 
 But to return to the business before us. We have 
 now seen the first thing setting forth the greatness 
 of this suffering ; to wit, the latitude and extent of 
 it ; as that it seized both body and soul, and every 
 part and faculty of both. 
 
 2. The next thing declaring its greatness was 
 the intenseness and sharpness of it. We have 
 seera already how far it went, we are now to con- 
 sider how deep. It fell not on him like a dew or 
 mist, which only wets. the surface of the ground, 
 but like a pouring soaking rain, which descends 
 into the very bowels of it. There was pain enough in 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 237 
 
 every single part to have been spread in lesser pro- 
 portions over the whole man. Christ suffered only 
 the exquisiteness and heights of pain, without 
 any of the mitigations which God is pleased to 
 temper and allay it with as it befals other men ; 
 like a man who drinks only the spirits of a liquor 
 separated and extracted from the dull, unactive 
 body of the liquor itself. All the force and ac- 
 tivity, the stings and fierceness of that trouble- 
 some thing were (as it were) drained and dis- 
 tilled, and abridged into that cup which Christ 
 drank off. There was something sharper than 
 vinegar, and bitterer than gall, which that draught 
 was prepared and made up with. We cannot in- 
 deed say, that the sufferings of Christ were long in 
 duration, for to be violent and lasting too, is above 
 the methods or measures of nature. But he who 
 lived at that rate, that he might be said to live an 
 age every hour, was able to suffer so too, and to 
 comprise the greatest torments in the shortest 
 space ; which yet by their shortness lost nothing 
 of their force and keenness ; as a pen-knife is as 
 sharp as a spear, though not so long. That which 
 promotes and adds to the impressions of pain, is 
 the delicate and exact crasis and constitution of 
 the part, or faculty aggrieved. And there is no 
 doubt but the very fabric and complexion of our 
 Saviour's body was a master-piece of nature, a 
 thing absolutely and exactly framed, and of that 
 fineness as to have the quickest and most sensible 
 touches of every object ; and withal to have these 
 advanced by the communion of his admirably 
 made body with his high, and vigorous intellec- 
 tuals. All which made him drink in pain more 
 deeply, feel every lash, every wound with so much a 
 
238 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 closer, and a more affecting sense. For it is not to 
 be doubted but a dull fellow can endure the pa- 
 roxysms of a fever, or the torments of the gout or 
 stone, much better than a man of a quick mind and 
 exalted fancy ; because in one, pain beats upon a 
 rock or an anvil, in the other it prints itself upon 
 wax. One is even born with a kind of lethargy 
 and stupefaction into the world, armed with an 
 iron body and a leaden soul against all the appre- 
 hensions of ordinary sorrow ; so that there is need 
 of some pain to awaken such an one, and to con- 
 vince him that he is alive ; but our Saviour, who 
 Jiad an understanding too quick to let any thing 
 that was intelligible escape it, took in the dolorous 
 afflicting object in its full dimensions. He saw the 
 utmost evil of every one of those strokes, which 
 the guilt of our sins inflicted on him. And what 
 his eye saw, his heart proportion ably felt : for 
 surely they must needs have been inconceivably 
 afflicting in the actual endurance, which were so 
 dreadful in their very approach, that the horror of 
 them put * the man of God's right hand, the man 
 made strong' for that very purpose, to start back, 
 and decline the blow, could the avoidance of it 
 have stood with the decrees of heaven — * Father, 
 if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.' Which 
 yet was not the voice of cowardice, but of human . 
 nature, — nature, which by its first and most essen- 
 tial principle would have saved itself, might it 
 have consisted with the saving of the world. 
 
 3. The third thing setting forth the greatness 
 of this suffering, is the cause and author of it, 
 which was God himself. The measure of every 
 passion is the operation of the agent. And then, 
 we know what Omnipotence can do ; Omnipotence 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 239 
 
 employed or rather inflamed by justice, in whose 
 quarrel it was then engaged. We must not mea- 
 sure the divine strokes by the proportion of those 
 blows, which are inflicted by the greatest and most 
 exasperated mortal ; the condition of whose nature 
 sets bounds to his power, when it cannot to his 
 rage. So that, in the utmost executions of it, he 
 acts but like a wasp ; very angrily indeed, but 
 very weakly. Every blow inflicted by the fiercest 
 tyrant can reach no further than the body ; and 
 the body is but the dwelling-place, not any part of 
 the soul ; and consequently can no more commu- 
 nicate its ruins to that, than a man can be said to be 
 wounded in his person, because a wall of his house 
 was broken down. Upon which account there 
 have been some whose souls have been so fortified 
 with philosophy and great principles, as to enable 
 them to laugh in Phalaris's bull, to sing upon the 
 rack, and to despise the flames. For still, when 
 God torments us by the instrumental mediation 
 of the creature, his anger can fall upon us in no 
 greater proportions than what can pass through 
 the narrow capacities of a created being. - For be 
 the fountain never so full, yet if it communicates 
 itself by a little pipe, the stream can be but small 
 and inconsiderable, and equal to the measures of 
 the conveyance. God can no more give his power, 
 than his glory, to another ; there is no mortal arm 
 can draw his bow. God cannot thunder or 
 lighten by proxy. He alone is the ? Father of 
 spirits,' and none can reach the conscience but he 
 who made it. And therefore, being to discharge the 
 utmost of his vindictive justice upon the sins of 
 mankind then charged upon our Saviour, he took 
 the sword into his own hand, entered the lists, and 
 
240 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 dealt with him immediately by himself. And then 
 we find the difference of our Saviour's suffering by 
 the difference of his behaviour. While he was 
 buffetted, scourged, and nailed to the cross, we 
 hear nothing from him, but ' like a lamb before 
 the shearers he was dumb :' not because he could 
 not, but because he scorned to roar under the im- 
 pressions of a finite anger. But when God reached 
 forth his hand, and darted his immediate rebukes 
 into his very soul and spirit, (as he did while he 
 was hanging upon the cross,) then he cries out, 
 ' My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?' 
 Silence upon such a loss would have been but stu- 
 pidity, and patience an absurdity; for when God 
 withdrew his presence from him, that darkness 
 which then . covered the face of the whole earth, 
 was but a faint emblem of that blacker cloud of 
 despair which had overcast his soul. It is not pos- 
 sible for us to conceive the utmost weight of those 
 heavy strokes inflicted by the Almighty himself 
 upon our Saviour. All the representations and 
 little draughts of them made by words and fancy 
 are vastly short of the keen impressions of sense. 
 But yet that which gives us the nearest resem- 
 blance of them, surely, is the torment of a guilty 
 mind under a state of desertion ; when God shall 
 turn the ' worm of conscience' into a scorpion, and 
 smite it with the secret invisible stings of his wrath, 
 such as shall fester and rage inwardly, gnaw and 
 rake the very entrails of the soul. The burden 
 and anguish of this has been sometimes so insup- 
 portable, that some have professed themselves to 
 envy the condition of Judas and the damned 
 spirits, as thinking the endurance of those flames 
 more tolerable than the expectation, and accord- 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 241 
 
 ingly have done violence to their own lives, and so 
 fled to hell as to a sanctuary, and chose damna- 
 tion as a release. Far were such persons (God 
 knows) from bettering their condition by complet- 
 ing that which they could not bear in the very be- 
 ginnings and forestates of it : yet however it de- 
 monstrates to us the unspeakable wretchedness of 
 a guilty soul, labouring under the hand of God. 
 And by the way, let the boldest, the hardiest, and 
 the securest sinner know thafc God is able, without 
 ever touching him either in his estate, his health, 
 his reputation, or any other outward enjoyment 
 dear to him, but merely by letting a few drops of 
 his wrath fall upon his guilty conscience, so to scald 
 and gall him with the lively sense of sin, that he 
 shall live a continual terror to himself, carry about 
 him a hell in his own breast; which shall echo 
 to him such peals of vengeance every hour, that 
 all the wine and music, all the honours and great- 
 ness of the world shall not be able to minister 
 the least ease to his heart-sick and desponding 
 soul. Now in these torments of a guilty con- 
 science we have some little image of the pains then 
 suffered by our Saviour, the greatness of both 
 being founded upon the same reason ; namely, that 
 God is the sole and immediate inflicter of such 
 strokes : and then surely the suffering must needs 
 be grievous, when infinite justice passes sentence 
 and infinite power does execution. 
 
 And thus I have finished the first general thing 
 proposed from the text, which was the suffering 
 itself, expressed in these words, ' He was stricken,' 
 and that, by considering the latitude, the in- 
 tenseness, and also the cause of it. All of them 
 
 R 
 
242 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 so many arguments to demonstrate to us its un- 
 paralleled greatness. 
 
 IT. The second general thing proposed was the 
 nature and quality of this suffering; namely, that 
 it was penal and expiatory, * He was striken for 
 transgression.' And to prove that it was penal, 
 there needs no other argument to any clear, un- 
 biassed understanding than the natural, genuine, 
 and unconstrained use of the word. For what 
 other sense can there be of a man's being stricken 
 or suffering for sin, but his being punished for 
 sin ? And that I am sure is spoke so plain and 
 loud by the universal voice of the whole book of 
 God, that Scripture must be crucified as well as 
 Christ, to give any other tolerable sense of it. 
 But since heresy has made such bold invasions 
 upon those sacred writings, we will consider both 
 those senses which these words are asserted to be 
 capable of. 
 
 1. First of all then, some assert, that to be 
 stricken for transgression imports not here a pu- 
 nishment for sins past, but a prevention or taking 
 away of sin for the future. So that Christ is said 
 to be stricken, to suffer, and to die for sin, because 
 by all this he confirmed to us an excellent and 
 holy doctrine, the belief of which has in it a natu- 
 ral aptness to draw men off from their sins; in a 
 word, because Christianity tends to make men 
 holy, and cease from sin, and because Christ 
 by his blood sealed the truth of Christianity, 
 therefore is he said ' to die for sin;' a strange and 
 remote deduction, and such an one as the common 
 rules and use of speaking would never have sug- 
 gested. But then besides because, — it is easy to 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 243 
 
 come upon the authors of this perverse interpre- 
 tion, by demanding of them, what fitness there 
 could be in Christ's death to confirm his doctrine ? 
 and what reason the world could have to believe 
 Christianity true, because the author of it, a pious, 
 innocent, excellent person, was basely and cruelly 
 put to death ? — therefore they further say, tha* 
 this effect of its confirmation is really and indeed 
 to be ascribed to his subsequent resurrection 
 though only his death be still mentioned ; that be* 
 ing the most difficult and heroic passage of all, 
 that he either did or suffered for our sakes, and 
 consequently the greatest instance of his patience, 
 and persuasion of the truth of that doctrine for 
 which he suffered. But, by their favour, if Christ 
 is said no otherwise ' to die for sin,' than because 
 he delivered a doctrine, the design of which was to 
 draw men off from sin, and which was confirmed 
 to be true only by his resurrection ; how comes it 
 to pass that this effect is still joined with his 
 death, but never with his resurrection ? it being 
 said over and over, that ' he died for sin, suffered 
 and bled for sin,' but never that J he rose again for 
 sin.' It is, indeed, said once, that he rose again 
 'for our justification;' but in the very foregoing 
 words it is said, that he was ' delivered to death 
 for our offences.' Which shows that those words 
 1 for our offences,' and f. for our justification,' have 
 there a very different sense, and bear a different 
 relation to the words with which they are joined in 
 that, as well as in the other Scriptures. But this 
 whole invention is so forced and far fetched, and 
 so much out of the road of common reason, that 
 it is impossible it should gain, but by the strengths 
 and prepossessions of prejudice; and where pre- 
 
 R 2 
 
244 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 judice stands for judgment, for aught I see, it is as 
 vain to urge arguments as to quote Scriptures. 
 
 2. The other sense of these words, and which 
 alone the Catholic church receives for true, is, that 
 ' Christ being stricken for sin,' signifies his being 
 punished for sin. The word ' for' in this case de- 
 noting the antecedent meritorious cause of his 
 suffering, and not the final, as the school of So- 
 cinus does assert; and, consequently, must di- 
 rectly relate to the removal of the guilt of sin, and 
 not the power, as is also affirmed by the same per- 
 sons. Now, that Christ's suffering and 'being 
 stricken for transgression* imports that suffering to 
 have been penal and expiatory, as it might with 
 the highest evidence be demonstrated from several 
 Scriptures, so at this time I shall confine my- 
 self within the limits of the chapter, from whence 
 I took my text : and here I shall found the proof 
 of it upon these two expressions, — 
 
 First, that Christ is said ' to have borne our sins,' 
 in the 12th verse. Now, ' to bear sin,' is an 
 Hebrew phrase for that which in Latin is here 
 peccatum, and in English, ' to be punished for sin/ 
 And if to bear another man's sin or iniquity by 
 suffering, does not imply the undergoing of the 
 punishment due to that man's sin, we must in- 
 vent a new way of expounding profane writers as 
 well as sacred, and of interpreting the common 
 speeches of men, as well as the word of God. 
 
 Secondly; the other argument shall be taken from 
 that expression which declares Christ to have been 
 made a 'sacrifice,' or an 'offering for sin,' in the 
 10th verse: 'When thou shalt make his soul an 
 offering for sin.' The procvf of what I here affirm, 
 is grounded upon the use and design of a sacrifice, 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 245 
 
 as it has been used by all nations in the world ; 
 which was to appease the Deity by paying- down a 
 life for sin, and that by the substitution of a sacri- 
 fice, whether of man or beast, to die and pay down 
 his life instead of the sinner. For there was a tacit 
 acknowledgment universally fixed in the hearts of 
 all mankind, * that the wages of sin was death,' and 
 that, ' without shedding of blood, there could be 
 no remission :' upon which was built the reason of 
 all their sacrifices and victims. So surely, there- 
 fore, as Christ was a sacrifice, and as the design of 
 a sacrifice is to pay down a life for sin, and as to 
 pay down a life for sin is to be punished for sin, 
 so sure it is, that Christ's death and sufferings were 
 penal. Now, it being clear that the foundation of 
 all punishment is compensation or exchange ; that 
 is to say, something paid down to divine justice for 
 something done against it ; and since all compensa- 
 tion implies a retribution equivalent to the injury 
 done; therefore, that Christ might be qualified to be 
 a sacrifice fit tojundergo the full punishment due 
 for the sins of mankind, two things were required. 
 
 1. An infinite dignity in his person; for since 
 the evil and demerit of sin was infinite ; and since 
 Christ was so to suffer for it, as not to remain under 
 those sufferings for an infinite duration ; that infi- 
 nity, therefore, was to be made up some other way; 
 which could not be, but by the infinite worth and 
 dignity of his person, grasping in all the perfections 
 and glories of the Deity, and by consequence deriv- 
 ing an infinite value to his sufferings. 
 
 2. The other qualification required was a perfect 
 innocence in the person to suffer ; for so much was 
 specified -by the Paschal lamb, of which we still 
 read in Scripture, • That it was to be a lamb with- 
 out blemish.' And there is no doubt, but had 
 
246 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 Christ had any sin of his own to have satisfied for, 
 he had been very unable to satisfy for other men's. 
 He who is going to gaol for his own debts, is very 
 unfit to be a security of another's. 
 
 But now this perfect innocence, which I affirm 
 necessary to render Christ a fit and proper sacrifice, 
 is urged by our adversaries to be the very reason 
 why Christ's sufferings could not be penal ; since 
 punishment, in the very nature and essence of it, 
 imports a relation to sin. To this I answer, that 
 punishment does indeed import an essential rela- 
 tion to sin ; but not of necessity to the sin of the 
 person upon whom it is inflicted : as might be 
 evinced by innumerable instances, as well as undeni- 
 able reasons. 
 
 If it be replied, that God has declared, ' that the 
 soul that sins shall die/ I answer; that this is 
 only a positive law, according to which God de- 
 clares he will proceed in the ordinary course of 
 his providence ; but it is not of natural and eternal 
 obligation, so as universally to^bind God in all 
 cases; but that he may, when he pleases, deal 
 otherwise with his creature. But this will receive 
 further light from the discussion of the third and 
 last general head, to which we now proceed. 
 Namely, 
 
 III. The ground and cause of this suffering; 
 which was God's propriety in, and relation to the 
 persons for whom Christ suffered, specified in these 
 words, ' My people :' — r For the transgression of my 
 people was he stricken/ 
 
 If it be here asked, upon what account the per- 
 sons here spoken of were denominated and made 
 God's people ? I answer, that they were so by an 
 eternal covenant and transaction between the Father 
 and the Son ; by which the Father, upon certain 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 247 
 
 conditions to be performed by the Son, consigned 
 over some persons to him to be his people. For 
 our better understanding' of which we are to observe, 
 that the business of man's redemption proceeds 
 upon a two-fold covenant. 
 
 First, an eternal covenant made between the 
 Father and the Son, by which the Father agreed to 
 give both grace and glory to a certain number of 
 sinners, upon condition that Christ would assume 
 their nature, and pay down such a ransom to his 
 justice, as should both satisfy for their sin, and 
 withal merit such a measure of grace as should 
 effectually work in them all things necessary to 
 their salvation. And this covenant may be pro- 
 perly called ' a covenant of suretyship or redemption.' 
 Upon which alone and not upon any covenant 
 made between God and men in their own persons, 
 is built the infallibility of the future believing, re- 
 penting, and finally persevering, of such as Christ 
 from all eternity undertook to make his people. 
 
 Secondly ; the other is a covenant made in time, 
 and actually entered into by God and men ; by 
 which God on his part promises to men eternal 
 salvation, upon condition of faith and repentance 
 on theirs. And this is called in Scripture * the se- 
 cond covenant, or 'the covenant of grace,' and 
 stands opposed to that which is there called ' the 
 first covenant,' or ' the covenant of works.' 
 
 Now, by that eternal compact or transaction be- 
 tween the Father and the Son (of which alone we 
 now speak) was this donation of a certain determi- 
 nate number of persons made to Christ, to be his 
 people ; by virtue of which agreement or transac- 
 tion he was in the fulness of time to suffer for 
 them, and to accomplish the whole work of their 
 
248 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. • 
 
 redemption from first to last. For to affirm that 
 Christ died only to verify a proposition, (that who- 
 soever believed should be saved,) but in the mean- 
 time to leave the whole issue of things in reference 
 to persons so loose and undetermined, that it was a 
 question, whether ever any one should actually be- 
 lieve, and very possible that none ever might; and 
 consequently, that after Christ had suffered, had 
 been stricken, and died for transgression, yet, for 
 any thing that he had done, in all this, he might 
 never have had a people ; this certainly is a strange 
 and new gospel, and such as the doctrine of our 
 church seems utterly unacquainted with. 
 
 Having thus shown the foundation upon which 
 the persons here spoken of are called by the pro- 
 phet, ' God's people ;' namely, an eternal covenant, 
 in which God the Father and the Son mutually 
 agreed upon the terms of their redemption; we 
 are now to observe, that the same thing that 
 thus denominates and makes them God's people, 
 makes them under the same relation to belong 
 also to Christ, and that not only upon the ac- 
 count of his nature, that he was God, but chiefly of 
 his office, that he was their Mediator; which capa- 
 city made him equally concerned in that eternal 
 covenant; he accepting and agreeing to those 
 terms that were proposed, and offered him by the 
 Father. By his acceptance of which he became 
 both a mystical head, and a surety to those for 
 whom he so undertook. And this relation of his 
 to them was the cause, why he both might be, and 
 actually was stricken by God for their transgres- 
 sion, without any violation of the divine justice, 
 notwithstanding the perfect innocence of his per- 
 son. For to render it just to inflict a punishment 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 249 
 
 upon an innocent person instead of another, either 
 of these two causes are sufficient : First, an inti- 
 mate conjunction between those persons ; and that 
 either natural as between father and son, or politi- 
 cal, as between king and people, and the like : Or, 
 secondly, the voluntary consent and will of an in- 
 nocent person to undergo the punishment due to 
 the nocent ; as it is between a man and his surety. 
 Accordingly, from that covenant by which the 
 Father made over a certain number of persons to 
 the Son to be his people, there arose this twofold 
 relation of Christ to them : — 
 
 1. Of a king to his people, or of a mystical head 
 to his members ; so that legally and politically 
 they suffered as really in Christ, as the whole body 
 suffers when the head is wounded, or struck through 
 with a dart. 
 
 2. The other relation is of a surety : so that the 
 satisfaction paid down by Christ to God's justice 
 for sin, is, in estimation of law, as really accounted 
 to be paid down by the saints, as if they had paid 
 it in their own persons. 
 
 And this is a further, and withal a full answer to 
 that objection formerly hinted from the innocence 
 of Christ's person, as if it rendered him uncapable 
 punishment. For his own free voluntary consent 
 to be a surety for sinners, and responsible for all 
 that divine justice could charge them with, trans- 
 ferred the guilt and obligation from their persons 
 to his own. 
 
 In a word, the compact between Christ and his 
 Father, made him a king, a mystical head, and also 
 a surety to some certain persons ; and his being so, 
 made them his people, and their being his people 
 
250 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 did, upon that account, make it both just and 
 equitable for him to suffer, and ' to be stricken for 
 their transgression ;' which is the result of the text, 
 and the thing undertook by us to be proved. 
 
 I have now finished the several things proposed 
 from the text : in which, having set before you 
 how much Christ has suffered, and all for our 
 sakes, I hope it will kindle the workings of a 
 pious ingenuity in every one of our breasts. For I 
 am sure, if Christ's suffering for us were the doc- 
 trine, gratitude should make our readiness to suffer 
 for him the application. Christianity I have shown 
 was a suffering religion ; and there are two sorts of 
 suffering to which it will certainly expose every 
 genuine professor of it. 
 
 The first is from himself. 
 
 The second from the world. 
 
 1. And, first, it will engage him in a suffering 
 from himself; even that grand suffering of self- 
 denial and mortification, the sharpest and most 
 indispensible of all others, in which every Chris- 
 tian is not only to be the sufferer, but himself also 
 the executioner. * He who is Christ's/ says the 
 apostle, ' has crucified the flesh with the affections 
 and lusts.' A severe discipline certainly, in which 
 a man is to act his fiercest anger upon his dearest 
 friends. For could nature ever yet suggest to any 
 one the ' hatred of his own flesh ? ' the crucifixion 
 of his desires, and the stabbing of his most beloved 
 affections ? Nature indeed cannot, will not prompt 
 it ; but Christianity, which rises many strains 
 above nature, both must and will. The best sacri- 
 fice to a crucified Saviour is a crucified lust, a 
 bleeding heart, and a dying corruption. We can- 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 2#l 
 
 not bring, nor indeed does Christ expect, a recom- 
 pense for what he has suffered for us ; yet that, 
 which he will accept, as if it were a recompense, is 
 for us to deal cruelly with that body of sin, which 
 has caused the acting of all those cruelties upon 
 him. Let the ambitious man lay his pride in the 
 dust, the covetous man deposit his treasures in the 
 banks of charity and liberality, and let the volup- 
 tuous epicure renounce his cups and his whores ; 
 and this will be a present to heaven better than a 
 whole hecatomb ; nor could ' the fruit of his body' 
 fall so grateful 'a sacrifice upon God's altars,' as 
 ■ the sin of his soul.' But it is like, the jolly world 
 about us will but scoff at the paradox of such prac- 
 tices, and explode them as madness and melan- 
 choly: yet let those sons of pleasure know, that 
 such as scorn to be thus melancholy in this world, 
 will have but little cause to be merry in the next. 
 
 2. The other kind of suffering in which Chris- 
 tianity will engage a man is from the world. Such 
 is the genius and nature of the Christian religion, 
 that it must unavoidably bring him, who owns it, 
 in the power of it, under temporary troubles and 
 afflictions. 'In the world,' says Christ, ' ye shall 
 have tribulation.' And he spoke it not so much 
 by a spirit of prophecy, as philosophy : and by an 
 actual sight of it in its pregnant causes. For the 
 contrariety of the principles and maxims of Chris- 
 tianity to those of the world, cannot but engage 
 men in such practices as shall also thwart the cus- 
 toms and modes which govern the actions of the 
 world. But where there is contrariety there will 
 be fighting; and where there is fighting, the 
 weaker I am sure, must suffer ; and generally the 
 Christian is so in all worldly encounters, whose chief 
 
252 ON THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 defensatives lie not in that armour that is sword-proof, 
 or bullet-proof; and who wears no breast-plate upon 
 but within his breast ; that is, his innocence, his 
 conscience, and his confidence in a reconciled God. 
 Suffering is a thing which all men abhor, and that 
 because they are ashamed of it; and their being so 
 is grounded upon this opinion, that ' to suffer,' in 
 the very nature of it, seems to impeach the suf- 
 fering person, either in the reputation of his power, 
 or of his innocence ; that is, he suffers, either be- 
 cause he is weak and cannot hinder it, or because 
 he is faulty and so deserves it. But with every 
 Christian Christ is an abundant answer to both 
 these objections. For when we see Omnipotence 
 hanging upon the cross, and God himself scourged 
 and spit upon ; and when we see him who could 
 have commanded fire from heaven, and legions of 
 angels to his rescue, yet surrendering himself 
 quietly to the will of his murderers, surely no 
 mortal man, who is but dirt, and worms-meat at 
 the best, can pretend himself too great, and too 
 high to suffer. And again, when we behold virtue, 
 innocence, and purity, more than angelical, cruci- 
 fied between thieves and malefactors, shall any 
 man whose birth and actions revile and speak him 
 a sinner to his face, think himself too good to come 
 under the cross, and to take his share in the com- 
 mon lot of Christianity ? It is not the suffering 
 itself, but the cause of it that is dishonourable. 
 And even in the worst and most shameful of suf- 
 ferings, though the hangman does the execution, 
 yet it is the crime alone which does the disgrace. 
 
 Christ commands us nothing, but he enforces it 
 with arguments from his person as well as from his 
 word; and it is well if we can make a due use of 
 
BY DR. SOUTH. 253 
 
 them. For God knows how soon he may call us from 
 our easy^peculations, and theories of suffering, to the 
 practical experience of it, — how soon he may draw 
 us forth for persecution and the fiery trial. Only this 
 we may be sure of, that if these things be brought 
 upon us for his honour, it will be for ours too to 
 endure them. And be our distresses never so great, 
 our calamities never so strange, and unusual, yet 
 we have both our Saviour's example to direct, and 
 his promise to support us, who has left it upon 
 record in his everlasting gospel, * That if we suffer 
 with him, we shall also reign with him/ 
 
 To whom, therefore, be rendered and ascribed, as 
 is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and domi- 
 nion, both now and for evermore. Amen. 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 OUR LORD'S OBEDIENCE UNTO DEATH. 
 BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE., 
 
 i William Bsvbridok was born in 1637: in 1704 he was consecrated Bishop of 
 St. Asaph, and died in 1708.] 
 
SERMON XII 
 
 Philippians, ii. 8. 
 
 And being found in fashion as a man, he hum- 
 bled himself, and became obedient unto death, 
 even the death of the cross. 
 
 He that reads and firmly believes what is here 
 written, cannot but fall down and worship God, 
 adoring that infinite wisdom, justice, and mercy 
 that he manifested in the redemption of fallen 
 man ; for here we read, that our Redeemer Jesus 
 Christ, being in the form, subsisting in the nature 
 or essence, of God, ' thought it not robbery to be 
 equal with God.' He did not think that he robbed 
 God of any glory, or offered him any injury or 
 affront, by asserting himself to be equal to him, of 
 the same substance, wisdom, power, and all other 
 perfections with him. Yet nevertheless, this glori- 
 ous, eternal, infinite, almighty Person, subsisting 
 thus in the form of God, made himself of no repu- 
 tation. He emptied, debased, humbled himself, 
 by taking upon him the form of a servant; being 
 made in the likeness of men, a real and perfect 
 man, like to the rest of mankind in all the integral 
 or essential parts of a man. And being thus found 
 
258 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 in fashion or habit as a man, in such a soul and 
 body as other men have, he humbled himself lower 
 yet, becoming obedient, or subject to those laws, 
 which he, as Lord of all, had made for others, not 
 only all his life, but even to death itself; and that 
 too, not any ordinary or common death, but the 
 most painful, the most shameful, the most accursed 
 death that any mortal could undergo, even ' the 
 death of the cross.' 
 
 Oh mystery of mysteries! that God himself 
 should become man, and die, and die upon the 
 cross too ! Who can think of it without astonish- 
 ment and admiration ? Especially if we consider 
 withal the ends and reasons of it, which are alto- 
 gether as great and mysterious as the thing itself. 
 Certainly, if we do that, we shall need no other 
 arguments to persuade us to join with the Catho- 
 lic church in the celebration of it, as we do this 
 day. 
 
 This therefore is that which I shall now offer at ; 
 even to consider the great ends and reasons, why 
 this divine person, subsisting in the form or na- 
 ture of God, took upon him the form or nature 
 of man, and so died. Not that I think it possible 
 for me fully to comprehend, much less to ex- 
 plain, so great a mystery ; which I can no sooner 
 cast my eye upon, but it is immediately dazzled 
 with the glory and splendour of it. Howsoever, 
 it being a matter wherein we are all so highly 
 concerned, and having it delivered to us in the 
 Holy Scriptures, in as plain and perspicuous 
 terms as the nature of the thing would bear, I shall 
 from thence endeavour to express my thoughts of 
 it, as clearly as I can ; humbly beseeching him of 
 whom I speak, so to assist and direct me in speak- 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE 259 
 
 ing of him, that I may utter nothing but what is 
 agreeable to his word, and becoming his honour 
 and majesty. 
 
 "First, therefore, we may consider, that although 
 the most high God be infinitely happy in him- 
 self, yet he made all things for himself, even 
 for his own glory, which is the ultimate end 
 of this, and of all his other actions. Wherefore, 
 when he made the world, he made two sorts of 
 creatures in it, capable of reflecting upon, and ac- 
 knowledging those glorious perfections which he 
 displayed in the creation of it; and they were 
 angels and men ; all which he made not only 
 rational and free agents, and so able to do the 
 work they were made for ; but likewise of such a 
 temper and constitution, that their only ease and 
 happiness consisted in the doing of it. 
 
 The first of these, viz. the angels, being all made, 
 and actually existing, together, although most of 
 them continued in the same state in which they 
 were created, yet others fell from it, degenerating 
 into wicked and impure spirits ; which not answer- 
 ing the end of their creation, are always uneasy 
 and restless in their minds, and tormented with 
 the sense of their sin, and of the wrath of their 
 almighty Creator against them for it. 
 
 But as for men, it was not so with them; for 
 they never did, nor ever will, till the end of the 
 world, all actually exist together. But at first, 
 only one man was made, and endued with power 
 to propagate his kind to others, and so successively, 
 till the whole number of individuals, or persons that 
 God designed of that nature, should be made up. 
 
 But howsoever, seeing all mankind were to pro- 
 
 s 2 
 
260 OUR LORDS OBEDIENCE ONTO DEATH. 
 
 ceed from, and so were virtually contained in the 
 first man, who was therefore called Adam, that is, 
 man in general ; hence if he had stood, all man 
 kind must needs have stood with him ; but he 
 falling, all fell with him into the same wretched 
 and miserable estate with the devils 01 apostate 
 angels before spoken of. 
 
 So that now of the two sorts of creatures which 
 God made on purpose to know, worship, and enjoy 
 him that made them, a great part of the one and all 
 the other were lost and undone, as to all the intents 
 and purposes of their creation, and are become of 
 themselves as sinful and miserable, as they were 
 designed by God to be holy and happy for ever. 
 
 And now there is occasion given for the mani- 
 festing two divine perfections, which otherwise 
 could not have been exerted, even vindictive justice 
 and mercy; both which suppose sin and guilt; for 
 if none had ever sinned, none could ever have 
 been justly punished, nor would any have stood 
 in need of mercy. For though God is good, and 
 kind, and gracious, and bountiful to all his crea- 
 tures, he could not properly be said to be merci- 
 ful to any, but to such as have contracted guilt, 
 and so deserved punishment at his hands ; as many 
 of the angels, and all mankind had now done, and 
 so were become proper objects either of his justice 
 or mercy, or both, as he should see good to exer- 
 cise them. 
 
 Wherefore the apostate angels having all sinned, 
 every one in his own person, God was pleased to 
 execute his justice and vengeance upon them to 
 the utmost extremity, having condemned them all 
 to everlasting fire, which, as our Saviour tells 
 
BY BISHOP BEVJiRIDGE. 261 
 
 us, 'is prepared for the devil and his angels.' * 
 And therefore St. Peter saith, that ' God spared 
 not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to 
 hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, 
 to be reserved unto judgment.' 2 And St. Jude, 
 that ' the angels which kept not their first estate, 
 but left their own habitation, he hath reserved in 
 everlasting chains, under darkness, unto the judg- 
 ment of the great day.' 3 So that Hot one of them 
 can ever escape, but they are all made standing, 
 everlasting monuments of the divine vengeance, 
 and just indignation against sin, never to be ap- 
 peased. 
 
 And the same might justly have been the con- 
 dition of all mankind too; for they all sinned in 
 their common head, and so fell from their first 
 estate, as well as the apostate angels, and there- 
 fore have deserved the same punishment which 
 was inflicted upon them. But howsoever, seeing 
 they did not all actually consent in their own per- 
 sons to the sin of their first parents, but only in 
 their general nature, which was then contained 
 wholly in them ; hence their great and most gra- 
 cious Creator was pleased to show mercy towards 
 them, but so as to manifest his justice also, both 
 against that original, and all the actual sins they 
 should ever be guilty of, so as to make them the 
 objects both of his justice and of his mercy too : 
 of his justice, by punishing the sins they had 
 committed ; and of his mercy, by pardoning those 
 who had committed them, upon such easy terms, 
 that if it be not their own personal faults, they 
 
 s Matt. xxv. 41. * 2 Pet. ii. 4. ' Jude, 6. 
 
262 OUR lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 may be all restored to the same estate of bliss and 
 happiness from which they fell. 
 
 For this therefore it was that Christ came into 
 the world, for this it was that he did and suffered 
 so much when here, and for this it was that he died 
 upon the cross; even for the exaltation of God's 
 justice and mercy, and so for the advancing of his 
 glory in the redemption of mankind from the state 
 of sin and misery, into which they were fallen, to a 
 state of grace and salvation. 
 
 Now we being all in the number of those to 
 whom the great Creator of the world hath been 
 thus infinitely merciful as well as just, it must 
 needs behove us very much to understand and ap- 
 prehend this great mystery aright, that so we may 
 be duly affected with it, and thankful for it, and 
 know what to do, that we may be really and eter- 
 nally the better for it. 
 
 For which purpose, therefore, we may consider, 
 first, that the person who undertook our redemp- 
 tion, was none of the creatures that God had made, 
 but his only Son, whom he had begotten from eter- 
 nity, by communicating his own essence to him ; 
 who is therefore here said to subsist in the form or 
 essence of God. He subsists in it, and so is a dis- 
 tinct person or subsistence in it; but in that he 
 subsists in it, he must needs be of it; it being im- 
 possible that any thing should subsist in the es- 
 sence of God, but what is of that essence. Hence 
 he is truly and properly ' God of God, light of 
 light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, 
 of one substance or essence with the Father,' as 
 the first general council determined out of the holy 
 Scriptures, and the catholic church hath always 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 263 
 
 held, both before and since. Indeed there is no 
 one truth more clearly revealed in the gospel than 
 this is. And it is but necessary it should be so ; 
 this being the very foundation of our religion, and 
 of all our hopes of being saved in it : take away this, 
 and our redemption falls to the ground, as being 
 built wholly upon the divine power and nature of 
 our Redeemer. And therefore, Turks and Soci- 
 nians, and all such as deny the divinity of our Sa- 
 viour, do thereby deny him to be our Saviour too, 
 and so make themselves incapable of being ever 
 saved by him. But blessed be God, we have better 
 learnt Christ ; being fully assured, out of his holy 
 word, that though he be a distinct person from th$ 
 Father, he is the same God, of the same divine 
 power and nature with him. 
 
 This divine person, therefore, subsisting l in the 
 form of God/ having undertaken our redemption, 
 for the effecting of it, took upon him ' the form of 
 a servant,' the nature of man ; not of this or that 
 particular man, but of man in general. So that 
 the whole human nature which was contained in 
 Adam, was now assumed by Christ, who is there- 
 fore called Adam too ; that is, as I observed before, 
 man in general. ' The first man Adam was made a 
 living soul, the last Adam was made a quickening 
 spirit.' 1 Hence he is called also the ■ second man' 
 by the same apostle, saying, ' The first man was of 
 the earth, earthly; the second man is the Lord 
 from heaven.' 2 Why the second man ? but because 
 he was looked upon as become man from the time 
 that he was first promised, when there was not 
 another man besides in the world, but only the 
 
 1 1 Cor. xv. 45. 2 Ibid, v. 47 
 
264 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 first man Adam ; and especially, because he was 
 the next man in general after Adam. All other 
 men betwixt them being only particular human 
 persons, but Adam and Christ, sustained the whole 
 human nature. In which sense, as Adam was the 
 first, Christ was properly the second man. Nei- 
 ther is this a mere airy speculation, but so great, 
 so necessary a truth, that our salvation depends 
 very much upon it ; for all mankind being con- 
 tained; and therefore sinning in the first man 
 Adam, unless there be another Adam or man in 
 general found out, who hath bome the punishment 
 of that sin, all mankind must still be subject to it : 
 whereas there being now another Adam set up, in 
 whom the whole nature of man, and so all man- 
 kind, is contained, as well as in the first, by him 
 we may be all freed from the sin we contracted, 
 and so repair all the losses we sustained in the first 
 Adam, and be made as righteous by the one, as we 
 were made sinners by the other; as the apostle 
 proves at large. ' 
 
 But here we must further observe, that the hu- 
 man nature which the Son of God assumed, having 
 no subsistence out of the divine person who as- 
 sumed it, it could not make a person of itself dis- 
 tinct from the divine, but was so united to it, that 
 although he had two distinct natures, the one di- 
 vine, communicated to him by the Father from 
 eternity, the other human, assumed by himself in 
 time, and so was really both God and man ; yet he 
 was not one person as God, and another as man, 
 but he was only one person both as God and man ; 
 as the third general council determined against 
 
 1 Rom. v. 
 
BY BISHOP BETBRIDGE. 265 
 
 Nestorius. And the same may be fully demon- 
 strated, not only from many particular places in 
 the holy gospel, but likewise from the whole scope 
 and design of ]t ; for if he had been one person as 
 God, and another person as man, then all his suf- 
 ferings as man, being the sufferings only of a finite 
 person, would have terminated in himself, and 
 could never have reached the rest of mankind. 
 Whatsoever he might have merited for himself, he 
 could not have merited any thing for us, by them ; 
 in that he underwent them only as a mere human 
 person, such as every one of us is. So that by 
 this means we should still be where we were, lost 
 and undone for ever. Whereas on the contrary, 
 Christ, both as God and man, being only one, and 
 that a divine and infinite person, whatsoever he 
 did or suffered in Iris human nature, being done 
 and suffered by an infinite person, it could not but 
 be of infinite worth and value, and so be able to 
 reach and profit all that should or could ever par- 
 take of that nature wherein it was done or suffered ; 
 for be they never so many, both they and their 
 number is still but finite ; whereas his merits 
 could not but be, like himself, infinite. 
 
 But this being the great article upon which the 
 main stress of our salvation depends, it may not be 
 amiss to confirm and explain it a little further to 
 you : for which purpose I might produce many of 
 Christ's own sayings, and as many passages out of 
 the writings of his holy apostles, which make it 
 both certain and clear. But I shall instance only 
 in those words of St. Paul to the Asian bishops, 
 • Take heed therefore to yourselves, and to all the 
 flock over which the Holy Ghost hath made you 
 overseers, to feed the church of God which he hath 
 
266 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 purchased with his own blood." Where we find 
 it expressly said, that God hath purchased the 
 church with his own blood ; which could not pos- 
 sibly be, unless the same person who was God, hafd 
 blood wherewith to purchase it. feut this blood 
 could be no other but the blood of the human na- 
 ture ; which if it had been an human person, it 
 could not have been truly called, as it is here, the 
 blood of God. But seeing the blood which Christ 
 shed as man was most certainly what it was here 
 called, even the blood of God, an infinite person, 
 it could not but be of sufficient value to purchase 
 the whole church, as it is here said to have done. 
 
 From hence, therefore, we may infallibly con- 
 clude, that, although the two natures in Christ 
 were preserved entire and distinct from one another, 
 after as well as before their union to one person, as 
 the fourth general council declared against Euty- 
 ches and his followers ; yet they were so united to 
 one person, that whatsoever was done in either 
 nature, was still done by one and the same person. 
 And by consequence, that whatsoever Christ either 
 did or suffered as man, was done and suffered by 
 one who was really and truly God : when Christ, 
 as man, was derided, God was derided ; when he 
 was sorrowful, God was sorrowful ; when he was 
 crucified, it might be truly said that God was cru- 
 cified ; for so the apostle himself speaks, saying, 
 that * they crucified the Lord of glory,' 9 which is 
 the same in effect, as if he had said, they crucified 
 God. 
 
 If we carry these truths along with us, they will 
 give us great light into the mystery of our salvation 
 
 • Acts, xx. 28. 2 1 Cor. ii. 8. 
 
m BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 267 
 
 by Christ : for, seeing he was really and truly God, 
 of the same nature with the Father, and became 
 really and truly man, of the same nature with us, 
 so as to be still but one person, both as God and 
 man ; hence, it necessarily follows, that when he 
 ' humbled himself, and became obedient,' as it is 
 here said, the obedience which he performed in- 
 finitely exceeded the most perfect obedience that 
 all mankind could ever have performed, if they 
 had continued in their first and best estate. For their 
 obedience could have been no more than what was 
 due to God, and at the highest it would have been 
 the obedience only of finite creatures ; whereas, his 
 was the obedience of God himself, which could not 
 be properly said to be due to himself. And there- 
 fore it is here said, ' that he humbled himself, by 
 becoming obedient,' as the Greek words import; 
 for, he having no previous obligations upon him to 
 observe those laws which he himself had prescribed 
 to mankind, it was great humility and condescen- 
 sion in him to obey them. It is true, as man, he 
 was bound to obey God, as other men are. But no 
 man ever was, or could be bound to perform divine 
 obedience, such as Christ performed in his man- 
 hood united to a divine person, which was so ex- 
 ceeding great, such infinite obedience, that it could 
 not but be of as great, as infinite value and merit 
 for mankind, in whose nature he performed it. 
 
 Especially, considering that he was obedient, not 
 only through the whole course of his life, but as 
 the apostle here saith, * unto death ;' unto death, 
 not as the object, but the great and last subject of 
 his obedience. God had said to the first Adam, 
 1 In the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt die the 
 death.' And the second Adam accordingly died 
 
268 OUR lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 the death, even the death of the cross, in which 
 were contained all the shame, the pain, and curses 
 that were due to the sins of mankind ; which death 
 being undergone by the whole nature of man, in 
 the person of God, and so by God himself, it was 
 more in itself, and more satisfactory to the divine 
 justice, than if all human persons in the world 
 should have suffered eternal death ; for theirs could 
 have been no more than the death of finite persons ; 
 which, if it could ever satisfy divine justice, would 
 not be eternal. But his being the death of an in- 
 finite person, it could not be but of infinite value, 
 and therefore as much as justice itself could re- 
 quire for sins committed against a person that is 
 infinite. And it being undergone in the nature of 
 man, all the infinite value, merit, and satisfaction 
 that is in it, must needs have respect or relation to 
 those only, and to all those who partake of that na- 
 ture. And therefore it is said, that 'Christ tasted 
 death for every man ;' l that he gave himself a 
 ransom for all;' 2 that • he was a propitiation for 
 the sins of the whole world :' 3 that is, as our church 
 expresseth it, "He by his one oblation of himself 
 once offered, made a full, perfect, and sufficient 
 sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of 
 the whole world, or of all mankind, in whose na- 
 ture he did it." 
 
 Now, these things being considered, it is easy to 
 • see what grounds we have to hope for pardon and 
 salvation by Christ; for, in order to the pardon of 
 our sins, it was first necessary that God's law and 
 justice should be satisfied for the injury and dis- 
 honour he hath received by them. But this Christ 
 
 1 Heb. ii. 9. • 1 Tim. ii. 6. » 1 John, ii. 2. 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 269 
 
 hath now done more effectually by dying in the 
 human nature, than all human persons could have 
 done by dying eternally So that it will be no 
 violation of his justice to pardon our sins, seeing 
 his own Son hath undergone the punishment which 
 was clue unto him for them. Upon whose account, 
 therefore, he is now ready to show us so much 
 mercy, as to discharge and acquit us of all our sins, 
 and to receive us again into his grace and favour 
 upon our repentance and submission. 
 
 And seeing both reason and justice require that 
 we should repent of onr sins, and turn to God, be- 
 fore we be pardoned by him; Christ hath merited 
 this also for us; and therefore is now exalted by 
 the right hand of God, 'to be a Prince and a Savi- 
 our, for to give repentance to Israel, and remission 
 of sins:' 1 first repentance, and then remission. So 
 that now, by reason of his infinite merits, he hath 
 power, not only to pardon our sins if we do repent, 
 but to give us repentance also, that so they may be 
 pardoned. Where, by repentance, we are to under- 
 stand all manner of grace and power to do whatso- 
 ever is required of us in order to our pardon and 
 salvation : it is now all at Christ's disposal. Inso- 
 much, that as he himself tells us, ' without him we 
 can do nothing.' 2 But, as his apostle saith, ' I can 
 do all things through Christ that strengthened 
 me/ 3 
 
 But, notwithstanding the continual supplies of 
 grace and virtue from Christ, whereby we are 
 sanctified or made sincerely holy ; yet, by reason 
 of the remainder of sins in us, neither ,pur persons 
 nor our actions are perfectly righteous, and, by con- 
 
 1 Acts, v. 31. « John, xv. 5. 3 Phil. iv.*]3. 
 
270 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 sequence, not acceptable in themselves to God. 
 But this also our blessed Saviour hath taken care 
 of, making up the defects and imperfections, both 
 of our persons and duties, with that most perfect 
 and divine obedience which he performed in our 
 natures. By which means we may be justified or 
 accepted of, and accounted as righteous before God, 
 as if we were exactly so in ourselves : so that, ' as 
 by one man's disobedience, many were made sin- 
 ners ; so by the obedience of one, shall many be 
 made righteous.' ■ 
 
 But, ■ many ? ' you may say — Why not all ? 
 Christ did not take upon him the person or persons 
 of one or more particular men, but the nature of 
 man in general, and died in it : why then are not 
 all saved that are of that nature ? To which I an- 
 swer, it is true, it is indeed a great wonder, that 
 Christ having died in the nature of man, and so put 
 all mankind into a capacity of being saved by him, 
 yet that all should not be saved by him. But this 
 certainly cannot be imputed to any defect or insuf- 
 ficiency in his merits, or power to save them ; but it 
 must be wholly their own faults, in that they will not 
 do what God requires, in order to their having the 
 merits of Christ's obedience and sufferings, in their 
 human nature, applied and made over to their own 
 particular human persons ; that is, they will not 
 believe in him, nor trust in those promises which 
 are made and sealed to us in his blood. For this 
 is the great condition required on our parts, in 
 order to our partaking of what he hath merited foi 
 us ; as appears from the whole tenor of the gospel, 
 yea, from Christ's own express words, who best 
 
 ' Rom. v. 19. 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 271 
 
 knew upon what terms we should be saved by him. 
 For ' God so loved the world,' saith he, ' that he 
 sent his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
 in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' 1 
 • He that believeth in him is not condemned ; but 
 he that believeth not, is condemned already, because 
 he believeth not in the name of the only begotten 
 Son of God.' s And elsewhere, ' He that believeth 
 and is baptized, shall be saved ; but he that be- 
 lieveth not, shall be damned.' 3 
 
 There are many such expressions dispersed over 
 the whole Bible; which plainly show that the 
 main thing required of us, in order to our being 
 saved by Christ, is to believe in him, to have a sure 
 trust and confidence on him, for all things neces- 
 sary to our salvation. 
 
 And the first and great thing we must believe 
 and trust in him for, is for grace to repent and 
 forsake our sins ; for such a measure of his Holy 
 Spirit, whereby we may mortify the deeds of the 
 flesh, and be sanctified throughout in soul, body 
 and spirit. For though our human nature in ge- 
 neral, be sanctified by its being united to the divine 
 person, no human person in particular can be sanc- 
 tified, but by * partaking of the divine nature,' 
 communicated to us by the operation of the Holy 
 Spirit, which Christ is always ready to give to 
 those who believe in him for it; 4 insomuch, that 
 whosoever doth not receive grace and assistance 
 from him to live soberly, righteously, and godly in 
 this present world, he may pretend what he will, 
 but he doth not believe in Christ as he ought; for 
 
 1 John, iii. 16. « Ibid. v. 18. 
 
 Mark, xvi. 16. * John, vii. 38, 39. 
 
272 our ord's obedience unto death. 
 
 if he did, he could not fail of being purified and 
 made holy by him. This being the great end why 
 Christ gave himself for us, ' that he might redeem 
 us from all iniquity, and purify us to himself, a pe- 
 culiar people, zealous of good works.' 1 
 
 When by our believing in Christ, we have thus 
 obtained power and grace to repent of our sins, 
 then we may, and ought, to trust in him also for 
 the pardon of those sins which we have thus re- 
 pented of; steadfastly believing, that how many 
 and great soever our former sins have been, yet 
 that now, upon our hearty and sincere repentance 
 of them, God hath absolved us from them all, for 
 Christ Jesus's sake, and hath accepted of that death 
 and punishment which his own Son underwent in 
 our natures, as if it had been undergone by us in 
 our own persons ; so as to be now as perfectly re- 
 conciled to us, as if he had never been offended at ■ 
 all with us; yea, that he doth not only pardon and 
 forgive us what is past, but he reckons us in the 
 number of righteous persons, and accepts of us as 
 such, in his beloved Son ; who knowing no sin in 
 himself, ■ was made sin for us, that we might be 
 made the righteousness of God in him.' * And not 
 only our persons, but that our actions also, even 
 our sincere, though imperfect duties and good 
 works, are all acceptable to God through Jesus 
 Christ our Lord; 3 and that, being thus justified 
 by him in time, we shall be glorified with him for 
 evermore. 4 
 
 By such a regular and lively faith as this (which 
 always works by love) none of us but may be really 
 
 1 Tit.ii. 14. s 2Cor. v. 21. 
 
 * 1 Peter, ii. 5. * Rom. viii 30 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 2?3 
 
 interested in all these glorious things which the Son 
 of God hath purchased for us with his own blood ; 
 for faith, as the apostle tells us, * is the substance 
 of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not 
 seen.' 1 It is the substance of things hoped for; — 
 that is, of whatsoever good things we hope for upon 
 the account of what Christ hath done and suffered 
 for us, and God hath promised to us for his sake. 
 Faith is the very substance of them to us ; it causeth 
 them to subsist in us, and so puts us into the ac- 
 tual possession of them. As, do we hope for 
 Christ's Holy Spirit to sanctify and make us holy ? 
 By faith, as we dwell in Christ, Christ's Spirit 
 dwells in us ; we are one with Christ, and Christ 
 with us; and so we have the 'substance' of what 
 we hope for, even his divine nature subsisting vir- 
 tually in us, as our human nature really subsisted 
 in him. And therefore Christ himself saith, 'that 
 we are sanctified by faith that is in him.' 2 Do we 
 hope for Christ's merits to pardon and justify us 
 before God ? Faith is the substance of them to us; 
 applying and appropriating all the merits of Christ's 
 obedience and sufferings in our nature to our own 
 particular person. And therefore it is that we are 
 so often said to be justified by faith, not as it is a 
 work in us, but as it is the substance of Christ's 
 righteousness to us, so that we also are accounted 
 as righteous by it. 
 
 The same may be said of all the great blessings 
 which Christ hath purchased for us, and God hath 
 promised to us in him, and which by consequence 
 we hope for from him. Faith is so the substance 
 of them to us, that by it we actually obtain and 
 
 1 Heb. xi. 1. * Acts, xxvi. 18. 
 
274 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 enjoy them. Insomuch, that they who have a strong 
 and steadfast faith in Christ, are so fully possessed 
 of God's love and mercy in him, that nothing is 
 able to remove them from it. A remarkable in- 
 stance whereof we have in St. Paul, who acting his 
 faith and confidence in his Saviour, cries out in a 
 Uiumphant manner, 'Who shall lay any thing to 
 the charge of God's elect? It is God that justi- 
 fieth, who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ 
 that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is 
 even at the right hand of God, who also maketh 
 intercession for us. Who shall separate us from 
 the love of Christ ? Shall tribulation, or distress, 
 or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or 
 sword ! Nay, in all these things we are more than 
 conquerors through him that loved us. For I am 
 persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, 
 nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
 nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
 other creature, shall be able to separate us from 
 the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord' 1 
 Thus have I endeavoured to unfold, as much as I 
 could, of the great mystery of our salvation by 
 Christ. I am very sensible, that there are many 
 things in it, which we are not able to conceive, and 
 that we may conceive much more than we are able 
 to express. Howsoever, from these great and ne- 
 cessary truths which we have now premised, as 
 plainly revealed in the gospel, and therefore be- 
 lieved always by the catholic church, none of us 
 but may easily discern what cause we have to be- 
 lieve that mankind in general, and by consequence 
 all we in particular, notwithstanding our fall from 
 
 ' Rom. viii. 33, &c. 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 275 
 
 our first estate, are now capable of obtaining eternal 
 bliss and happiness, which the fallen angels are 
 not capable of. For they, as they have all sinned 
 against God, so they must all bear every one the 
 punishment of his own sins in his own person ; 
 there being no other way whereby Almighty God 
 can manifest his justice and displeasure against 
 them for it ; for as the apostle observes, the Son of 
 God took not on him the nature of angels, but the 
 seed of Abraham ; and therefore the apostate an- 
 gels are never the better for all his sufferings as not 
 being undergone in their nature. And therefore 
 their case is desperate, their misery unavoidable. 
 It is true, they know and believe there is a God, 
 but they cannot trust on him, nor expect any 
 mercy from him ; for he never promised them any. 
 And therefore they ' believe and tremble/ as know- 
 ing that God is always angry with them, and can 
 by no means be ever reconciled TO them. And 
 hence it is, that they can never repent of their sins; 
 and if they did, it would stand them in no stead. 
 No : sentence is past upon them, they are all con- 
 demned to everlasting fire. And there is no re- 
 medy, but they must endure it for ever. 
 
 But blessed be God, the case is not so with us; 
 for he himself hath provided us a Saviour, an all- 
 sufficient Saviour, one who is able to save to the 
 utmost ' all that come unto God by him, seeing 
 he ever liveth to make intercession for them.'' 
 
 Indeed, this is that which crowns all the rest; 
 that as he once died to make satisfaction for us 
 upon earth, he ever lives to make intercession for 
 us in heaven, where he now is in our nature united 
 
 1 Heb. vii. 25. 
 
 t 2 
 
276 OUR lord's obedience unto death 
 
 to his divine person; upon which account, God 
 hath so highly exalted him, even as he is man, 
 that he * hath given him a name, which is above 
 every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee 
 should bow, of things in heaven, and things on 
 earth, and things under the earth, and that every 
 tongue should confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, 
 to the glory of God the Father.' 1 So that he is 
 now ' advanced above all principality and power, 
 and might and dominion, and every name which is 
 named, not only in this world, but also in that 
 which is to come, and God hath put all things 
 under his feet, and hath given him to be head of 
 all things to the church.' 8 Such a glorious Savi- 
 our have we now in heaven, whom the angels them- 
 selves are bound to worship and continually do it : 
 and though his manhood be only in heaven, his di- 
 vine person, to which that manhood is united, is 
 every where uf>on earth too. So that be we where 
 we will, he is always present with us, and we may 
 make our applications to him when we please. 
 When we are at our devotions, public or private, 
 he is there ready to assist and perfume them with 
 his own merits. When we are in secret, where no 
 body else sees us, be sure he doth. When we are 
 in straits, and know not whither else to go for 
 help, we may still go to him ' who loved us and 
 gave himself for us;' and hath therefore told us, 
 that ' those that come to him, he will in no wise 
 cast out.' 3 
 
 This therefore is that which I would now advise 
 you to. For which purpose you must give me 
 leave to speak freely to you, for I come not to you 
 
 1 Phil. U. 9, 10. • Eph. L 21, 22. 3 John, vi. 37. 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 277 
 
 in my own name, but in his name who died for 
 you, who redeemed you to himself with his own 
 blood, and therefore may well be allowed to be 
 plain with you. 
 
 That you are all sinners, I need not tell you ; 
 but I must tell you, that as ye are sinful, ye can- 
 not but be miserable too ; yea, therefore miserable 
 because sinful; so miserable, that ye are all by 
 nature the children of wrath, whatsoever outward 
 prosperity ye may seem to enjoy. Ye are always 
 liable not only to be stripped of that, but to be 
 tormented with all the pain, and shame, and hor- 
 ror, that either your souls or bodies are capable 
 of; for he that made you, is angry with you, and 
 incensed against you. And what will you do, if 
 he should rise up to take vengeance of you, for 
 breaking those wise, and good, and righteous laws, 
 that he hath set before you ? Can you be able to 
 dwell with everlasting burnings, or endure the 
 scorchings of a consuming fire ? How would you 
 be amazed and confounded if you should see Om- 
 nipotence itself setting itself against you; glory, 
 majesty, justice, yea, goodness and mercy itself 
 frowning upon you, demeaning itself as angry and 
 displeased with you, and therefore pouring down 
 fury, vengeance and indignation upon you every 
 moment ? 
 
 Yet this is no more than what your sins have 
 made you all obnoxious to. Insomuch, that if you 
 look no further than yourselves, you have no 
 ground to expect one moment's respite out of the 
 infernal flames, * prepared for the devil and his 
 angels.' 
 
 Consider this, and then tell me, what you think 
 
278 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 of a Saviour, one who can save you from your sins, 
 and from the wrath of God that is due unto you 
 for them ? One that can reconcile almighty God 
 to you, and you to him ? One who can alter your 
 estate and disposition too, so as to make you equal 
 to the holy angels themselves both in grace and 
 glory ? How happy would the fiends of hell ac- 
 count themselves, if they had such a Saviour! 
 How earnestly would they flock after him, and 
 strive which should embrace and love him most, 
 which should serve and please him best, that so 
 they might be restored by him to their former es- 
 tate again! But this is a happiness which they 
 can never hope for, it being designed only for man- 
 kind. But it being designed for mankind in ge- 
 neral, all you that hear me at this time may not 
 only hope for it, but you may have it too if ye 
 will ; nay, it is God's pleasure and command you 
 should ; for he would have all men to be saved, 
 and by consequence you amongst the rest. And 
 therefore if any of you be not, the only reason is, 
 because ye will not. ' Ye will not,' as Christ said, 
 'come to kim, that ye might have life.' 1 And no 
 wonder then if you be not saved, when ye will not 
 come to him who alone can do it. 
 
 But are there any such men in the world ? — 
 men that will not be saved, though they may? — 
 men that refuse happiness when it is proferred 
 them, and had rather continue in sin and misery, 
 than to be freed from it ? I wish there were not, 
 but fear there are too many such amongst our- 
 selves; some that think they can save themselves, 
 and therefore will not be beholden to Christ for it ; 
 
 1 John, v. 40. 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 279 
 
 others so much in love with sin, that they will not 
 part from it for all that Christ hath purchased for 
 them, and therefore will not£o to him, for fear lest 
 he should make them holy. But the greatest part 
 of mankind, and of those also who have given up 
 their names to Christ, are so much taken with the 
 sensible objects they converse with here below, 
 that they prefer them before all that the Son of God 
 hath or ever can do for them ! Ungrateful wretches! 
 Is this the return you make the Son of God for all 
 his love and kindness to you! What could he 
 have done — what could he have suffered — what 
 could he have procured more for you, than he hath 
 done? And is all this nothing? — not so much 
 as the dreams and shadows of this transient world ? 
 But I hope there are not many such amongst 
 you, and heartily wish there were none at all. 
 Howsoever, give me leave to deal plainly with you. 
 Do ye really believe that Jesus Christ came into 
 the world to save sinners, or do ye not ? If you 
 do not, what make you here, especially upon this 
 day ? Why are ye not rather at some Turkish 
 mosque, or idol-temple, or else about your worldly 
 business ? What need you concern yourselves 
 about the death of Christ, if ye do not believe that 
 he died to save sinners ? But, do ye really believe 
 Jiat he died to save sinners ? Then he died to 
 save you, who cannot but acknowledge yourselves 
 to be sinners. And if so, what mean you, that ye 
 mind not your salvation by him, more than all 
 things in the world besides ? Is it not the greatest, 
 the only happiness you can ever attain to ? Did the 
 Son of God himself think it worth his while to lay 
 down his own life to procure it for you, and can 
 
280 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 you think it worth your while to lay down your 
 lives in the pursuit of it ? Certainly you cannot 
 think so. But why 'then is it that you do not 
 do it ? 
 
 Especially, considering that how great an happi- 
 ness soever it be, there is not a soul here present 
 but may attain it, if you will but set yourselves in 
 good earnest about it ; Christ's blood being of that 
 infinite value and virtue, that it can both expiate 
 and cleanse you from all your sins; as many thou- 
 sands have found already by their own experience, 
 who once were miserable sinners upon earth, as 
 you now are, but are now by Christ made glorified 
 saints in heaven. And why may not you be made 
 so as well as they ? You have all the same Savi- 
 our as they had, and he is both as able and as 
 willing to save you, as he was to save them. Inso- 
 much, that if any of you perish, your blood will be 
 upon your own heads. And not only yours, but 
 his too ; in that you neglect and trample upon it, 
 and will not make use of it to the saving of your 
 souls, for which he shed it. 
 
 But let others do what they please, and take 
 what follows. Let us, who believe what we have 
 now heard, even, that Jesus Christ being in the 
 form of God, took upon him the form of a servant, 
 the nature of man ; and in it was obedient to death, 
 even the death of the cross, that he might save us 
 from our sins, and make us happy ; — let us, I say, 
 who profess to believe this, endeavour to live ac- 
 cordingly, that we may lay hold on that eternal 
 life, which the Son of God hath purchased for us 
 at so dear a rate. For which purpose, let us apply 
 ourselves to him in the sincere and constant use of 
 
BY BISHOP BEVERIDGE. 281 
 
 those means which he hath appointed for our ob- 
 taining salvation by him; such as praying and 
 fasting, reading and hearing his holy word, and re- 
 ceiving his mystical body and blood, still trusting 
 in him to. assist and influence them so with his 
 Holy Spirit, that they may be effectual to the ends 
 for which he hath ordained them, even to the be- 
 getting and confirming our faith in him, and so to 
 the mortifying our lusts, and to the quickening us 
 with newness of life. Let us study his gospel, and 
 whatsoever he hath there said, let us therefore be- 
 lieve it, because he who is truth itself hath said it ; 
 and whatsoever he there commands, let us therefore 
 do it, because he hath commanded it, who coming 
 into the world on purpose to save us, would be 
 sure to command us nothing, but what is absolutely 
 necessary for our salvation. 
 
 Wheresoever we are, let our eye be still upon 
 him as always present with us, and interceding 
 with his Father for us. 'Whatsoever we do, in word 
 or deed,' let us ' do all in the name of the Lord Jesus/ 
 trusting on him for his assistance of us in the doing 
 it ; and for God's acceptance of it when it is done. 
 Let our minds be always running after him, and 
 our faith so steadfastly fixed on him, that we may 
 continually derive grace and virtue from him, to 
 subdue our corruptions, to withstand temptations, 
 to live above the world, and to walk in all the com- 
 mandments of God blameless. Whatsoever our 
 condition be in this life, let us still believe in him 
 that died for us, to bless and sanctify it to the end 
 for which he died, even to the salvation of our 
 souls. Let us not despond or despair of God's 
 mercy to us, nor of any thing that is, or can be 
 good for us ; ' for he that spared not his own Son, 
 
*82 our lord's obedience unto death. 
 
 but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not 
 but with him also freely give us all things ?M 
 
 Being thus prepared and qualified for it, let us 
 put our whole trust and confidence in him, to 
 pardon and absolve us from all our sins, to defend 
 and protect us from whatsoever is really evil for us, 
 to guide us into all truth, to confirm and strengthen 
 us in all goodness, to direct, assist, and bless us 
 through the whole course of our pilgrimage here 
 below ; that when we depart out of this miserable 
 and wicked world, we may go to him who hath 
 done these great things for us, and enjoy that life 
 which he hath purchased by his own death, even 
 life with him, the eternal Son of God our Saviour, 
 to whom with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be 
 all honour and glory now and for ever. Amen. 
 
 1 Rom. viii. 32. 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 
 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH 
 CHRIST. 
 
 BY DR. WATTS. 
 
 [IftAAC Watts wu ton in 1674, and died in 174 •] 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 
 Galatians ii. 20. 
 
 f am crucified with Christ ; nevertheless x live. 
 
 It is a peculiar delight that our apostle takes in 
 exalting the gospel of Christ above the law of 
 works, and in raising the life and the privileges of 
 a Christian, above the life of a heathen or a Jew, 
 or above any other character or profession amongst 
 men. He divests himself of all former characters, 
 and abandons all other principles of life, that he 
 may put on the Christian, and derive a better life 
 from Jesus the Son of God, by faith in his name ; 
 and this he does not only in his own person, but 
 as sharing in the common principles of Chris- 
 tianity : this does not belong only to himself, but 
 to all the saints of the Lord, as very clearly ap- 
 pears in other parts of this epistle, and also in 
 other epistles that this apostle has written, though 
 he expresses it here in his own name. I shall ac- 
 cordingly draw the two following propositions from 
 the two sentences of my text, and endeavour to im- 
 prove them 
 
286 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST. 
 
 Prop. I. Every true Christian has communion 
 with Christ in his death : * I am crucified with 
 Christ/ 
 
 Prop. II. Every believer lives a different life from 
 what he himself has heretofore lived, or from what 
 other persons are acquainted with : though ' I am 
 crucified, yet I live.' I am dead to that life which I 
 once lived in the flesh ; and it is quite in another 
 way and manner, and from other principles, that 
 I now live, and act, and perform the several duties 
 of my station. 
 
 I. Every true Christian has communion with 
 Christ in his death, and may be said to be crucified 
 with Christ; and that, in these four respects :-*- 
 
 1. Every true Christian is dead to the wtfrld 
 by his interest in the death of Christ ; dead to all 
 the troubles, and to all the delights of this present 
 state, as the apostle expresses it : 'God forbid that 
 I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, 
 and I unto the world.' 1 He and the world had 
 nothing to do with each other ; like two dead 
 things, they had no influence upon one another. 
 He was dead to the riches, and to the poverty of the 
 world. Riches do not puff up the Christian, when 
 he acts according to the principles of his new life, 
 nor does poverty overwhelm or sink his spirits : 
 he knows with the apostle, f how to abound, and 
 how to be abased/ and is still the same : he says 
 to honours, and riches, and reproaches in the 
 world, "What are these things to him who has 
 learned to taste and value the praise of God, and 
 the honour he expects among the holy angels ? " 
 He is so far dead to the relations and dearest com- 
 
 1 Gal.vi. 14. 
 
BY DR. WATTS. 287 
 
 forts.of life, that they do not draw him away from 
 the consideration of his last end, nor from his close 
 walking with God in the Redeemer : he knows 
 them no more after the flesh ; as the apostle speaks 
 of the Jews, and of Jesus Christ himself as one of 
 the Jews, * Henceforth know we no man after the 
 flesh : yea, though we have known Christ after the 
 .flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more.' 1 
 I have no respect for him as being of my nation 
 and the seed of Israel, but as the common Saviour 
 of mankind, and as such I live in and by him. 
 
 He is weaned from life itself: ■ I protest by your 
 rejoicing which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I 
 die daily ;' 8 that is, I put myself daily in a readi- 
 ness to die ; I set myself daily upon the borders 
 of the grave; I expose myself in my thoughts 
 beforehand unto death ; I am ready to pass that 
 important hour whenever my Redeemer appoints 
 me ; I am ready to lie as one that has quitted all 
 pretences to this life, and is ready to part with 
 all the possessions of it ; and this through the 
 influence of the death of Christ. The death of 
 Christ has been the price or purchase of this grace 
 that mortifies a Christian thus to the world ; he 
 has bought the influence of the divine Spirit of the 
 Father, by which influence a Christian becomes a 
 new creature, and is mortified to every thing that 
 before had power over him. 
 
 Christ's death is also the pattern of a believer's 
 crucifixion to the world. Our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 young as he was, in the full vigour of life, and in 
 a capacity for the enjoyment of all the delights of 
 sense, left the world. The death of Christ speaks 
 
 1 2 Cor v. 16. « 1 Cor. xv. 31. 
 
THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST. 
 
 this in the ear and heart of every believer, " The 
 world is not worth living in." The death of Christ, 
 and his abandoning the world so soon, have poured 
 abundance of contempt upon the manner of living 
 in this world. The life of Christ in the world, in 
 poverty, in the form of a servant, has poured scorn 
 upon all the grandeur, riches, and honours of it. 
 The King of heaven, when he dwelt here upon 
 earth, did not think them worth taking. The man- 
 ner of his death and burial has poured contempt 
 upon every thing that is magnificent in death ; 
 upon all the pomp of funerals, and the honours of 
 the grave. He hung upon the cross, and sub- 
 mitted to death in the most dishonourable way, by 
 dying like a malefactor or a slave; his body was 
 begged and conveyed away to a private sepulchre 
 in a garden, though he might have had the attend- 
 ance of mourning angels, and all the show of 
 heaven waiting at his funeral. All this was ap- 
 pointed to humble the pride of man, to make us 
 see that there is nothing in all the vanities of life 
 desirable. Our head has despised them all. 
 
 2. A believer is not only dead to this world, but 
 he is dead in an especial manner to sin, by the 
 death of Christ. Sin is mortified in him by the 
 crucifixion of his Lord; sin received its death- 
 wound upon the cross of our Redeemer. The 
 apostle speaks of this at large in his epistle to the 
 Romans : • Knowing this, that our old man is cru- 
 cified with him ;' that is, the principle of sin within 
 us, the corrupt nature that we brought into the 
 world with us; ' that the body of sin might be de- 
 stroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin, 
 for he that is dead is freed from sin. Likewise 
 reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto 
 
BY DR. WATTS. 289 
 
 sin. Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal 
 body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof.' 1 
 Did Jesus Christ undergo a painful and shameful 
 death, that sin might die, and shall a Christian re- 
 vive it ? Did our Lord Jesus Christ nail sin to his 
 cross, and shall we subdue ourselves to the power 
 of it, when our Lord has subdued its power ? Sin- 
 ful pleasures can have no allurements to a Chris- 
 tian, for they are all nailed to the cross of Christ. 
 
 The death of Christ has slain sin, and the Chris- 
 tian will not suffer an enemy so conquered and so 
 trampled upon to overcome him. This is the 
 language of the Christian life, this is the spirit and 
 the temper of the Christian nature ; but too often 
 the believer sinks beneath it. 
 
 3. A believer is dead to the law of works, by the 
 death of Christ; he is free from the rigour and 
 curses of the law, by his union to Christ in his death : 
 ' Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the 
 law, being made a curse for us.' a 
 
 A believer is dead to the law as a covenant of 
 works, and the law is dead to him ; for, considered 
 as such, it can neither hurt nor help him, nor does 
 he either fear or hope for any thing from it. Christ, 
 our surety and our representative, was crucified, 
 sustained the accursed death, and thereby fulfilled 
 the law, so that it has no more to say to Christ; 
 and if we are one with him, it has no more to say 
 to us, it cannot condemn us. The apostle, in b*i& 
 epistle to the Romans, not only shows that it 
 cannot condemn us, but he shows that it has not 
 power in us or over us, to irritate and provoke sin 
 as formerly it had: 'Wherefore, my brethren, ye 
 
 1 Rom. vi. 6, 7 Hi 12. * Gal. iii. 13. 
 
 u 
 
290 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED BY CHRIST. 
 
 also are become dead to the law, by the body of 
 Christ. — When we were in the flesh, the motions of 
 sin that were by the law,' that is, that took occasion 
 to rise up in opposition to the commands of God, 
 and the law of God, * did work in our members to 
 bring forth fruit unto death. But now we are de- 
 livered from the law ; that being dead wherein we 
 were held;' that is, the covenant of works being 
 dead, being finished by our Lord Jesus Christ, our 
 great representative that suffered for us, we may 
 now ■ serve him in newness of spirit/ under the 
 principles of a divine life, and not 'in the oldness 
 of the letter/ ' by the constraint and terrors of the 
 law, as I shall afterwards show you. 
 
 4. A believer is dead to the Jewish dispensation 
 of the gospel, and to all yokes and tokens of bond- 
 age, by the death of Christ. For the Jews had the 
 gospel preached to them as well as we, but under 
 darkness, and clouds, and figures, and many cere- 
 monies, whereby the glory of it was obscured, and 
 the liberty, and beauty, and light of it were mingled 
 with much bondage and terror ; but our Lord Jesus 
 has cancelled all these forms of things by his death, 
 and has freed believers from them : ' wherefore, if 
 ye be dead with Christ/ says the apostle, ' from 
 the rudiments of the world/ by which he has a pe- 
 culiar regard to the Jewish ceremonies ; why, as 
 though living in the world, 'are ye subject to ordi- 
 nances now? for our Lord Jesus Christ 'blotted 
 out the hand-writing of ordinances that was against 
 us, that was contrary tons/ that showed us our guilt, 
 and did not give us effectual relief; he took it out of 
 the way, 'nailing it to his cross; — which was but a 
 
 1 Rom. vii. 4, 5, 6." 
 
BY DR. WATTS. 291 
 
 shadow of things to come:' 1 but our Lord Jesus 
 has removed the shadow. The believer, by his 
 communion with Christ, is dead to the ceremonies 
 of God's own invention, and by the death of Christ 
 he is released from all that bondage ; he will not, 
 therefore, make yokes of his own to cast upon his own 
 neck, nor will he impose new yokes upon the necks 
 of his brethren. The bondage and yokes are all 
 broken, and the chains and slavery are all abolished 
 by the death of Christ. He stands fast ? in the li- 
 berty wherewith' the death of Christ ' has made him 
 free.' 
 
 Thus have I shown you very briefly in what 
 sense a believer is crucified together with Christ; 
 he is dead to the world, he is dead to sin, he is 
 dead to the law, he is dead to all the yokes of 
 bondage and ceremonious worship ; and all this in 
 and by a dying Saviour, his union to him, and 
 communion with him. 
 
 II. The second proposition that I mentioned is 
 this ; the believer lives a very different life from 
 what he did before faith : ' I am crucified with 
 Christ, nevertheless I live.' 
 
 Hence it plainly appears, that it is not the same 
 sort of life he lived before, for a death is passed 
 upon that ; he has lost a sort of life, but he has 
 not lost all manner of life, for he lives still. To 
 show what difference there is betwixt the life of a 
 Christian before and after his faith or interest in 
 Christ, I shall do little more than go over the same 
 heads again which you have already heard ; I shall 
 only apply them in a positive. way to the life of a 
 Christian, as before I snowed you wherein a Chris- 
 tian has parted with them, and is dead to them. 
 1 Col. ii. 14, &c. 
 
 u 2 
 
292 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST. 
 
 1. The believer before lived a life of the world, 
 exercised on visible things, but now he lives upon 
 things spiritual and invisible ; for he is dead to the 
 world and alive to heaven. His sorrows now are 
 of another kind, they are laid out upon sin ; whereas 
 before they were laid out only upon the uneasi- 
 ness and disappointments he met with in the world. 
 His joys before arose from sensible things and the 
 comforts of this life, but now his joy abounds 
 from his interest in Jesus Christ, beyond all the 
 joys he once experienced in the pleasures of the 
 world. Before, he hoped for some advancing cir- 
 cumstances in the world ; but now he hopes for 
 advancement in heaven, for glory amongst the an- 
 gels, and a place amongst the best of God's crea- 
 tion. His desires once were, " Oh that I might 
 enjoy the satisfaction and delight, the pleasure and 
 advancement* of this world!" but now, his soul 
 being mortified to them, breathes after the presence 
 of God, longs for spiritual entertainments, and has 
 a perpetual tendency towards the enjoyments of 
 heaven. His life is now divine and heavenly ; 
 whilst he uses the things of this world, he despises 
 them and lives above them. Whilst he manages 
 the affairs and business of his secular calling, and 
 the concerns of this' present state, his heart is at 
 every turn putting on her divine wings and rising 
 heavenward, and endeavouring to get above those 
 very affairs which now and then his thoughts are 
 too much entangled with, and in which it is neces- 
 sary that they should be sometimes engaged whilst 
 he is in this world ; but he is ever afraid that they 
 should cleave too closely to him, he is ever afraid of 
 the chain and bondage. For having tasted the plea- 
 sures of a divine release, he would'not willingly be 
 
BY DR. WATTS. 293 
 
 clogged and fettered again. He uses the world 
 therefore with the utmost caution, lest it should 
 ensnare him, and draw him away again from his 
 highest hope and his best beloved joy. 
 
 2. Before, the believer's life was a life of sin, in 
 common with the rest of mankind, the children of 
 sinful Adam ; but now it is a life of holiness, for 
 he is dead to sin and alive to God. This, in the 
 sixth chapter of his epistle to the Romans, the 
 apostle makes appear at large ; he says, that we 
 are not only crucified with Christ, i)ut we are risen 
 with him too ; and as our Lord Jesus Christ being 
 once dead and risen again by the power of God, 
 lives to God for ever, so we being dead to sin, must 
 henceforth and for ever live to that God who hath 
 raised Jesus from the dead : before, we were dead 
 in trespasses and sins, but now ' you who were 
 once dead hath he quickened,' that you should no 
 more be the children of disobedience, no more 
 serve ' the lusts of the flesh and of the mind/ and 
 walk like the children of the world, as others do ; 
 but as the children of life, as the children of grace, 
 as heirs of everlasting glory in that heaven, where 
 nothing shall enter that denies. 
 
 ' The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and 
 the pride of life,' were the springs and principles 
 of his motions and actions before ; but now the love 
 of God is a powerful and divine principle. Then 
 his meat and drink was to fulfil some sinful desire ; 
 now to do the will of his Father which is in heaven. 
 Before, he had much rather sin than suffer; now 
 he had much rather suffer than sin. Hearing, 
 reading, conversing of vanity, and the scandals and 
 reproaches that were cast upon Christians, might 
 be once his pleasure, whilst the things of God were 
 his aversion, and devotion was accounted by him 
 
294 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST. 
 
 dull business, and a tiresome hour ; but, " Now/ 
 says he, *. * I will go unto the altar of God, unto 
 God* my exceeding joy.' 1 Religion is now my 
 delight, for that world where God is for ever wor- 
 shipped is my highest hope and my everlasting 
 prospect." 
 
 3. The believer's life before was influenced by the 
 law or covenant of works, but now it is influenced 
 by the gospel or covenant of grace ; and there is a 
 vast difference between his present and former 
 principles. The spring of actions and duties arose 
 formerly from the threatenings of the law, but now 
 they arise from the promises, from the hopes, from 
 the comforts of the gospel. The expectation of 
 man, in a carnal state, is the expectation of eternal 
 happiness, arising from the covenant of works, from 
 his own righteousness; but now from the righteous- 
 ness of the Son of God, and from the free and 
 abounding promises of the covenant of grace. He 
 is not now urged to duty by the terrors of the law, 
 so much as by the sweet allurements of the gospel ; 
 therefore in that text which I have just cited, this 
 sense is very evident, that now being dead to the 
 law, * we should serve God in newness of spirit, 
 and not in the oldness of the letter ;' 9 not from the 
 hurries and vexation of conscience, that come upon 
 it from the commanding and threatening law of 
 God, as a covenant of works, but by the sweeter 
 and kinder motives of the gospel of the grace of 
 God, ' that, bringing salvation, hath appeared to 
 all men ; teaching us, that denying ungodliness 
 and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righte- 
 ously, and godly in this present* world ;' and behold 
 now one of the new principles of it, ' looking for 
 
 1 Psalm xliii. 4. 9 Rom. vii. 6. 
 
BY DR. WATTS. 295 
 
 that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of 
 the great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ.' 1 
 
 What manner of person should I be then, ' in 
 all holy conversation and godliness/ who look for 
 a dissolving earth and heavens, and a returning 
 Saviour to take me to dwell for ever with him 
 My Lord Jesus Christ has died for me, therefore 
 I must live to him. Once I expected strength from 
 the commands and threatenings of the law, as well 
 as righteousness from my performance of it ; but 
 now I find it is in vain to expect righteousness 
 or strength there; and I have another righte- 
 ousness, and I have a better strength, for 'the 
 Lord Jehovah is my strength, and my righteous- 
 ness.' How many are there, when first awakened, 
 that run from one preacher to another, to hear 
 sermons of mere duty and terror, expecting that 
 these should lash their consciences into holiness, 
 and that the thunders of the threatening law 
 should strike their hearts and melt them ! but 
 they wander from place to place in vain. They 
 hear the law, and it terrifies, they hear the duty 
 of it, and it awakens them. It shows them their 
 guilt, for ' by the law is the knowledge of sin ;' 
 but they are still the same persons, dead in sin, 
 still bound in the chains of corrupt nature. The 
 grace of the gospel alone can soften the heart, can 
 break these bonds, can release from the fetters of 
 sin, and make of a stubborn, and unwilling, and 
 disobedient wretch, a cheerful, and joyful, and obe- 
 dient Christian. They come to the blood of Christ, 
 and they find softening virtue for their hearts, and 
 ' the love of Christ constrains them,' and they can- 
 
 • Titus, ii. 11, 12, 13. 
 
296 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST. 
 
 not help living to him, because they hope for eter- 
 nal life from him. They put all their immortal con- 
 cerns into the hands of Jesus Christ, and they have 
 put their hard hearts there too, that they may be 
 softened. They have put also their stubborn and 
 disobedient wills there, that they may be dissolved. 
 They have put their guilty and sinful souls there, 
 that they may be justified by the righteousness of 
 another, that they may be strong in the grace of 
 another, that they may be renewed by the regene- 
 rating Spirit of Jesus Christ. They are come into 
 that faith that • worketh by love,' which is the only 
 thing that avails in the gospel. 
 
 Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, having given 
 up the soul to him, believes that Jesus receives it. 
 Hence there arises a divine light from this hope, 
 which enables the soul cheerfully to fulfil all the 
 hard duties of a Christian life. The believer has 
 the spirit of a slave no longer, but the spirit of a 
 son by adoption; and he finds, that the sweet doc- 
 trines of the grace and promises of the gospel have 
 continually more influence upon him, than all the 
 curses and terrors of the law, and all the flashes 
 and fire of the word of hell ever had before. 
 
 4. A believer before lived in the forms and out- 
 ward observances of external religion. He called 
 this religion, and built his hopes upon it; but now 
 his devotion is more inward and spiritual. Not 
 but he always maintains these forms and these ob- 
 servances, which the light of nature, which the 
 word of God, which the particular institutions of 
 the gospel, teach and require of him ; but it is the 
 inward part of religion that his soul most aims at, 
 and his eye is most watchful over. A carnal man 
 may take up with forms, and thereby satisfy natu- 
 
BY DR. WATTS. 297 
 
 ral conscience ; so the Jews did under a spirit of 
 bondage, and the Jewish Christians were ready to 
 run into it. They had much ado to be brought off 
 from those ways of living. Carnal Christians also, 
 loose professors, that think going to church, reading 
 „a chapter, and saying their prayers will bring them 
 to heaven, all live this sort of life. But the design 
 of a Christian is to see God, and to be with Jesus 
 Christ in all his worship. He is not easy unless he 
 can find God in ordinances. He is not satisfied with 
 the shell and empty shadow, unless he can have 
 the substance too, the pearl of great price that his 
 soul looks after. 
 
 It is with God that he converses in prayer, and 
 thinks a few minutes upon his knees in prayer 
 nothing if he cannot get near to his God there, 
 if he does not feel his soul to have inward striv- 
 ings to come near to his God. The presence or 
 absence of God in worship are things that he 
 concerns himself about now; whereas heretofore, 
 if he did but attend to the external forms of wor- 
 ship, he did not understand much the meaning of 
 a present or absent God in them. 
 
 These, then, are some of the differences betwixt 
 the life of a Christian before faith, and his life 
 after faith. Before, it. was a life of sense, exercised 
 on sensible things, but now he lives upon things 
 spiritual and invisible. Before, it was a life of sin, 
 now it is a life of holiness. Before, it was a life in- 
 fluenced by the law and covenant of works, now by 
 the principles of the covenant of grace. Before, he 
 counted forms and outward observances, religion, 
 and sufficient to salvation; but now he looks at 
 inward and spiritual things. 
 
298 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST. 
 
 Four words of use shall conclude this discourse. 
 
 1 . Let every soul in this assembly know, then, 
 that if they do not live a very different life from 
 that which they brought into the world with 
 them, they are not Christians. For by nature 
 we live a life of the world, we live ^upon thi| 
 world, we live to sin arid vanity; by nature we 
 derive our righteousness and our strength from 
 the law, at least we attempt it, though religion 
 is always insufficient and ineffectual, when we 
 make it consist too much in outward forms and 
 external observances. This is the natural life of 
 man ; for the gospel is not born with us, the gos- 
 pel comes by the teaching of the word, urider the 
 influence of the blessed Spirit. The gospel comes 
 into our hearts this way, and moulds, and changes, 
 and renews our nature, and gives us new princi- 
 ples, and brings us into a new world. ' Except 
 a man be born again/ says Christ to Nicodemus, 
 ' he cannot see the kingdom of God.' ' You can- 
 not enter into the kingdom of God, you cannot 
 come into a state of grace in this world, nor into a 
 state of glory in the world to come, unless there is 
 such a change passed upon you as I have now de- 
 scribed. Let this then be matter of your serious 
 examination : " Am I such a creature as I was 
 when I came into this world? has any great 
 change passed upon me ? are my principles of ac- 
 tion new ? are my passions of hope, fear, joy, and 
 desire new, or are they the same that ever they 
 were ?" 'If any man be in Christ he is a new crea- 
 ture : old things are passed away, behold, all things 
 are become new.' * 
 
 1 John, iii. 3. * 2 Cor. v. 17. 
 
lit DR. WATTS. 299 
 
 ?. What a shame is it that those who profess a 
 life so excellent and so different from the world, 
 should act and live as though they belonged unto 
 it, as though they were one with it! What a 
 shame is it that they should be conformed to it in 
 every thing, and be uneasy if they cannot attain 
 that conformity ! They know not how to cross 
 the way of the world, they have not courage to 
 oppose the world, and they are content to swim 
 with the stream. But this conduct is contrary to 
 the very principles of Christianity, and where it is 
 much indulged, it will darken, obscure, and deface 
 all the glory of their profession; and they had 
 need take great care that their conversion be right 
 and true, for otherwise they will have much reason 
 to fear that they were mistaken at first in their 
 hopes, and that they are still the children of wrath. 
 I say, where too much of the principles of this old 
 life, which was cut off, grows strong again, they had 
 need take care that their conversion be real, lest at 
 last they be mistaken in things of infinite im- 
 portance. The divine life must sometimes show 
 itself, it cannot be always hid. Paul * preached 
 the faith that once he destroyed,' and he destroyed 
 the corruptions that once he promoted. Behold 
 the man is a new creature ; behold Saul the perse- 
 cutor prayeth. Let it be said concerning every 
 one of us, " Behold, he is a new creature !" that 
 the world may observe that we are born of God. 
 
 3. If this be as I have described, then every true 
 Christian is nearer to heaven than we generally 
 imagine. He is dead with Christ, he is risen 
 again, and is alive with Christ. And when he en- 
 ters into heaven, he does but receive the perfection 
 of that life which is here begun. He is risen 
 
300 THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST. 
 
 already in his representative, and with his repre- 
 sentative and head he is entered into heaven. 
 1 God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love 
 wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in 
 sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by 
 grace ye are saved,) and hath raised us up together, 
 and made us sit together in heavenly places in 
 Christ Jesus. That in the ages to come he might 
 show the exceeding riches of his grace, in his kind- 
 ness towards us through Christ Jesus/ ' Under 
 this consideration it is, that we being dead to our 
 former life and the life of this world, being brought 
 into a new and divine life, are, as the apostle tells 
 us, ' come unto mount Sion, and unto the city of 
 the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an 
 innumerable company of angels, to the general as- 
 sembly and church of the first-born which are writ- 
 ten in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and 
 to the spirits of just men made perfect.' 2 These 
 are the words I chiefly aim at, * the spirits of just 
 men made perfect.' Ye belong to the same society 
 that the spirits of just men belong to, though ye 
 are not released from the bonds of the flesh. Ye 
 are one with them, in Jesus Christ your head. Ye 
 belong to the same state, ye are made denizens of 
 the same heavenly city, though ye are not yet en- 
 tered within the gates of it, but abide your Father's 
 pleasure in a foreign country. Ye belong to the 
 state above, ye are one with the spirits of the glo- 
 rified just; and the life ye will live in glory, is but 
 the same kind of life ye live in grace, though in a 
 far more exalted degree. Ye are changed from 
 death to life, from sin to grace ; but the step ye 
 
 1 Eph. ii. 4, 5, 6, 7. Heb. xii. 22, 23. 
 
BY DR. WATTS. 301 
 
 will make from grace to glory will not be a change, 
 but an advancement in the same life. 
 
 4. Lastly; I would say this also, that an at- 
 tendance on the Lord's supper is the proper season 
 to awaken our meditations to communion with a 
 dying Saviour. We eat the bread and drink the 
 wine, and thereby represent our union with a cru- 
 cified and dying Christ. The bread and wine 
 which are incorporated with our natural bodies, 
 made one with us by our eating, represent the 
 union of our spirits to our Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 our becoming one with him. Now if at these sea- 
 sons, and at these ordinances, we are represented 
 as dying together with Christ, let us remember 
 what manner of persons we ought to be, what sort 
 of profession we make. We sit there and tell the 
 world, we are dead to sin, we are dead to things 
 sensible, we are dead to the law, we are dead to 
 ceremonies and carnal ordinances, we are dead to 
 every thing which before we were alive unto ; we 
 make a profession of this before God, angels, and 
 men. O may dur characters and our conversation 
 correspond with such a communion with a living 
 and dying Saviour! 
 
SERMON XIV. 
 
 OUR LORD'S DESCENT INTO HELL. 
 BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 
 
 Samuel Horsley was bom in 1733. He was made Bishop of St. David's i» 
 1788 ; was translated to St. Asaph in 1802 ; and died in 1806.] 
 
SERMON XIV. 
 
 1 Peter, hi. 18—20. 
 
 Being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the 
 Spirit ; by which also he went and preached unto 
 the spirits in prison, which sometimes were dis- 
 obedient, when once the long-suffering of God wait- 
 ed in the days of Noah. 
 
 In the first rudiments of our Christian faith, com- 
 prised in the apostles' creed, which we are made to 
 get by heart in our earliest infancy, we are taught 
 to believe thaj;." our Lord Jesus Christ descended 
 into hell;" and this belief is solemnly professed by 
 every member of the congregation, when that creed 
 is repeated in the daily service of the church. 
 And it seemed of so much importance that it 
 should be distinctly acknowledged by the Church 
 of England when we separated from the Roman 
 communion, that our reformers thought proper to 
 make it by itself the subject of one of the articles 
 of religion. They were aware, that upon the fact 
 of our Lord's descent into hell the church of Rome 
 pretended to build her doctrine of purgatory, which 
 they justly esteemed one of her worst corruptions ; 
 
 x 
 
306 OUR LORD'S DESCENT INTO HELL. 
 
 but, apprehensive that the zeal of reformation 
 might in this, as in some other instances, carry- 
 men too far, and induce them to reject a most im- 
 portant truth, on which a dangerous error had been 
 once ingrafted, to prevent this intemperance of re- 
 form, they assert, in the third article of the thirty- 
 nine, " That as Christ died for us and was buried, 
 so it is to be believed that he went down. into hell." 
 The terms in which they state the proposition, 
 imply that Christ's going down into hell is a matter 
 of no less importance to be believed, than that he 
 died upon the cross for men — is no less a plain 
 matter of fact in the history of our Lord's life and 
 death, than the burial of his dead body. It should 
 seem, that what is thus taught among the first 
 things which children learn, should be among the 
 plainest, — that what is thus laid down as a matter 
 of the same necessity to be believed as our Lord's 
 passion and atonement, should be among the least 
 disputed, — that what every Christian is required to 
 acknowledge as his own belief, in the daily assem- 
 blies of the faithful, should little need either ex- 
 planation or proof to any that have been instructed 
 in the very first principles only of the doctrine of 
 Christ. But so it is, that what the sagacity of our 
 reformers foresaw, the precaution which they used 
 has not prevented. The truth itself has been 
 brought into discredit by the errors with which it 
 has been adulterated ; and such has been the in.- 
 dustry of modern refinement, and unfortunately so 
 great"*has been its success, that doubts have been 
 raised about the sense of this plain article of our 
 creed by some, and by others, about the truth and 
 authenticity of it. It will, therefore, be no unpro- 
 fitable undertaking to show that the assertion in 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 307 
 
 the apostles' creed, that " our Lord descended into 
 hell," is to be taken as a plain matter of fact in the 
 literal meaning of the words ; to show what proof 
 of this fact we have in holy writ ; and, lastly, to 
 show the great use and importance of the fact as a 
 point of Christian doctrine. 
 
 First, then, for the sense of the proposition, " He 
 descended into hell." If we consider the words as 
 they stand in the creed itself, and in connexion 
 with what immediately precedes and follows them* 
 they appear evidently to contain a declaration of 
 something which our Lord performed — some going 
 of our Lord to a place called " hell," in the interval 
 of time between the burial of-his dead body and his 
 rising to life again on the third day after that in- 
 terment ; for thus speaks the creed of Jesus Christ : 
 " was crucified, dead, and buried ; he descended 
 into hell; the third day he rose again from the 
 dead." It is evident that the descending into hell 
 is spoken of as an action of our Lord, but as an 
 action performed by him* after he was dead and 
 buried, and before he rose again. In the body, 
 our dead Lord, more than any other dead man, 
 could perform no action ; for the very notion 
 of death is, that all sensation and activity, and 
 power of motion of the body, is in that state of 
 the man extinguished. This, therefore, was an act 
 of that part of the man which continues active 
 after death, — that is, of the soul separated by death 
 from the body, — as the interment must be under- 
 stood of the body apart from the soul. The dead 
 body could no more go into hell than the living 
 soul could be laid in the grave. Considering the 
 words, therefore, as they stand in the creed, as the 
 church now receives it, they seem as little capable 
 
 x 2 
 
308 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 of any variety of meaning, and almost as little to 
 require explanation, as the word " buried." That 
 word describes not more plainly, to the apprehen- 
 sions of all men, what was done with the inani- 
 mate body of our crucified Lord, than these words 
 declare what was done by his rational soul in its 
 intermediate state. The only question that can 
 possibly arise to a plain man's understanding is, 
 where or what the place may be which is here 
 called hell, to which it is said our Lord in the state 
 of death descended. 
 
 It is evident that this must be some place below 
 the surface of the earth ; for it is said that he " de- 
 scended," that is, he went down to it. Our Lord's 
 death took place upon the surface of the earth, 
 where the human race inhabit; that, therefore, and 
 none higher, is the place from which he descend- 
 ed : of consequence, the place to which he went 
 by descent was below it ; and it is with relation to 
 these parts below the surface that his*rising to life 
 on the third day must be understood. This was 
 only a return from the nether regions to the realms 
 of life an)! day, from which he had descended; not 
 his ascension into heaven, which was a subsequent 
 event, and makes a distinct article in e creed. 
 
 But although the hell to which o v.r Lord de- 
 scended was indeed below, as the word " descent" 
 implies, it is by no means to be understood of the 
 place of torment. This is a point which requires 
 elucidation, to prevent a mistake into which the 
 unlearned easily might fall. The word " hell" is so 
 often applied in common speech, and in the Eng- 
 lish translation of the NewTestament, to the place 
 of torment, that the genuine meaning of the word 
 (in which, however, it is used in many passages of 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 309 
 
 the English Bible) is almost forgotten; and the 
 common people never hear of hell but their 
 thoughts are carried to that dismal place, « where 
 the fallen angels are kept in everlasting chains un- 
 der darkness unto the judgment of the great day.' 
 But the* word, in its natural import, signifies only 
 that invisible place which is the appointed habita- 
 tion of departed souls in the interval between 
 death and the general resurrection. That such a 
 place must be, is indisputable; for when man 
 dieth, his soul dieth not, but returneth unto him 
 that gave it, to be disposed of at his will and 
 pleasure; which is clearly implied in that ad- 
 monition of our Saviour, * Fear not them which 
 kill the body, but cannot kill the soul.' But the 
 soul existing after death, and separated from the 
 body, though of a nature immaterial, must be in 
 some place : for, however metaphysicians may talk 
 of place as one of the adjuncts of body, as if no- 
 thing but gross sensible body could be limited to a 
 place, to exist without relation to place seems to 
 be one of the incommunicable perfections of the 
 Divine Being; and it is hardly to be conceived 
 that any created spirit, of however high an order, 
 can be without locality, or without such determina- 
 tion of its existence at any given time to some cer- 
 tain place, that it shall be true to say of it, " Here 
 it is, and not elsewhere." That such at least is the 
 condition of the human soul, were it seasonable to 
 go into so abstruse a disquisition, might be proved, 
 I think, indisputably from holy writ. Assuming, 
 therefore, that every departed soul has its place of 
 residence, it would be reasonable to suppose, if 
 revelation were silent on the subject, that a common 
 mansion is provided for them all, their nature be- 
 
310 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 ing similar; since we see throughout all nature 
 creatures of the same sort placed together in the 
 same element. But revelation is not silent. The 
 sacred writers of the Old Testament speak of such 
 a common mansion in the inner parts of the earth ; 
 and we find the same opinion so general among the 
 heathen writers of antiquity, that it is more proba- 
 ble that it had its rise in the earliest patriarchal 
 revelations than in the imaginations of man, or in 
 poetical fiction. The notion is confirmed by the 
 language of the writers of the New Testament, with 
 this additional circumstance, that they divide this 
 central mansion of the dead into two distinct re- 
 gions, for the separate lodging of the souls of the 
 righteous and the reprobate. In this, too, they 
 have the concurrence of the earliest heathen ,poets, 
 who placed the good and the bad in separate divi- 
 sions of the central region. The name which the 
 Hebrew writers gave to this mansion of departed 
 souls, (without regard to any such division,) ex- 
 presses only that it is a place unknown, about 
 which all are curious and inquisitive. The writers 
 of the New Testament adopted the name which the 
 earliest Greek writers had given it, which describes 
 it by the single property of invisibility. But for 
 the place of torment by itself, they had quite ano- 
 ther appellation. The English word I* hell," in its 
 primary and natural meaning, signifies nothing 
 more than " the unseen and covered place ;" and is 
 properly used, both in the Old and the New Testa- 
 ment, to render* the Hebrew word in the one, and 
 the Greek word in the other, which denote the in- 
 visible mansion of disembodied souls, without any 
 reference to suffering. But being used also in the 
 translation of the New Testament for that other 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 311 
 
 word which properly denotes the place of torment, 
 the good sense of the word, if we may so call it, is 
 unfortunately forgotten, and the common people 
 know of no other hell but that of the burning 
 lake. 
 
 This certainly was not the hell to which the soul 
 of Christ descended. He descended to hell properly 
 so called, — to the invisible mansion of departed 
 spirits, and to that part of it where the souls of the 
 faithful, when they are delivered from the burden 
 of the flesh, are in joy and felicity. 
 
 That he should go to this place was a necessary 
 branch of the general scheme and project of re- 
 demption, which required that the Divine Word 
 should take our nature upon him, and fulfil the en- 
 tire condition of humanity in every period and 
 stage of man's existence, from the commencement 
 of life, in the mother's womb, to the extinction and 
 the renovation of it. The same wonderful scheme 
 of humiliation which required that the Son should 
 be conceived, and born, and put to death, made it 
 equally necessary that his soul, in its intermediate 
 state, should be gathered to the souls of the de- 
 parted saints. 
 
 That the invisible place of their residence is the 
 hell to which our Lord descended, is evident from 
 the terms of his own promise to the repentant thief 
 upon the cross : ' Verily, I say unto thee, to-day 
 shalt thou be with me in paradise.* Paradise was 
 certainly some place where our Lord was to be on 
 the very day on which he suffered, and where the 
 companion of his sufferings was to be with him. 
 It was not heaven ; for to heaven our Lord after 
 his death ascended not till after his resurrection, as 
 appears from his own words to Mary Magdalen. 
 
312 OUR lord's descent into hell. 
 
 He was not therefore in heaven on the day of the 
 crucifixion; and where he was not, the thief could 
 not be with him. It was no place of torment ; for 
 to any such place the name of paradise never was 
 applied. It could be no other than that region.of 
 repose and rest where the souls of the righteous 
 abide in joyful hope of the consummation of their 
 bliss. And upon this single text we might safely 
 rest the proof of this article of our creed in the sense 
 in which we explain it, — a sense so plain and pro- 
 minent, in the bare words, to every one who is 
 not misled by the popular misapplication of the 
 word " hell," that it never would have been set 
 aside to make room for expositions of more refine- 
 ment, much less would the authenticity of the ar- 
 ticle ever even have been questioned, but for the 
 countenance which it was supposed to give to the 
 doctrine of purgatory as taught in the church of 
 Rome ; with which, however, it has not even a re- 
 mote connexion. Time will not permit me to enter 
 into a particular examination of the different inter- 
 pretations of this article which have been attempted 
 by those who have not gone the length of proposing 
 to expunge it from the creed, because they were 
 well aware, that although it is not to be found in 
 any copy of the creed now extant, of an earlier 
 date than the latter end of the fourth century, yet 
 that Christ, in some sense or other, descended into 
 hell was the unanimous belief of the Christian 
 church from the earliest ages. I will offer only 
 this general observation, — that the interpretation 
 which I have given is the only literal interpreta- 
 tion which the words will bear, unless we would 
 admit the extravagant assertion, as to me it seems, 
 of the venerable Calvin, that our blessed Lord ac- 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 313 
 
 tually went down to the place of torment, and 
 there sustained (horrible to think or mention !) the 
 pains of a reprobate soul in punishment; a notion 
 evidently confuted by our Lord's own description 
 of the place, where the companion of his sufferings 
 on the cross was to be with him on the very day of 
 the crucifixion. 
 
 This sense being thus confuted, I say the per- 
 sonal descent of our Lord to that region where the 
 souls of the righteous rest in hope, is the only 
 literal interpretation which the words of the ar- 
 ticle will bear, and that any figurative inter- 
 pretation of the words of a creed or formulary 
 of faith are inadmissible; for, in such a com- 
 position, intended to convey the knowledge of 
 the most important truths to the most ordinary un- 
 derstandings, the ornamental figures of rhetoric or 
 poetry, would be no less out of place than in the 
 opinion of a judge upon a question of law, or in a 
 mathematical demonstration. They could have no 
 other effect than to introduce doubt, where every 
 thing ought to be precise and unequivocal. With- 
 out entering, therefore, into a particular confuta- 
 tion of the figurative interpretations that have been 
 offered of this article of the creed, I shall proceed 
 at once to show what proof we find in Scripture of 
 the fact averred, according to the literal meaning 
 of the words, that " Christ descended into hell." 
 
 This proof rests, I think, principally upon three 
 texts of Scripture, in addition to that which I have 
 already mentioned, as affording by itself ample con- 
 firmation of the truth of the proposition, namely, 
 our Lord's promise to the penitent thief upon the 
 cross. But there are three other texts which con- 
 spire with this, to put the matter out of doubt. 
 
314 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 The first is that text of the Psalmist which was 
 alleged by St. Peter, in his first sermon on the clay 
 of Pentecost, as a prophecy concerning Christ, 
 verified in his resurrection from the dead : ' Thou 
 wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither wilt thou 
 suffer thy Holy One to see corruption.' The apos- 
 tle having recited these words of the Psalmist, says 
 they were not spoken by David of himself, but that 
 David, being a prophet, spake of the resurrection 
 of Christ, — that his soul was not left in hell, nei- 
 ther did his flesh see corruption. From this text, 
 if there were no other, the article, in the sense in 
 which we have explained it, is clearly and infal- 
 libly deduced ; for if the soul of Christ were not 
 left in hell at his resurrection, then it was in hell 
 before his resurrection. But it was not there either 
 before his death or after his resurrection, for that 
 never was imagined : therefore it descended into 
 hell after his death, and before his resurrection : 
 for as his flesh, by virtue of the divine promise, 
 saw no corruption, although it was in the grave, 
 the place of corruption, where it remained until his 
 resurrection ; so his soul, which by virtue of the 
 like promise was not left in hell, was in that hell 
 where it was not left, until the time came for its 
 reunion to the body, for the accomplishment of the 
 resurrection. Hence it is so clearly evinced that 
 the soul of Christ was in the place called hell, 
 " that none but an infidel," saith St. Augustine, 
 " can deny it." 
 
 Another text, which carries us to the same con- 
 clusion, is in the fourth chapter of St. Paul's epistle 
 to the Ephesians, in the apostle's reasoning upon a 
 passage of the sixty-eighth Psalm, which he applies 
 as prophetic of the various gifts which Christ, after 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY- 315 
 
 nis ascension, conferred upon the members of his 
 church. The Psalmist speaks to this effect, as he 
 is cited by the apostle : ' When he ascended up on 
 high, he led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto 
 men ? ' * Now that he ascended/ says the apostle, 
 arguing upon the Psalmists words, ' what is it but 
 that he descended first into the lower parts of the 
 earth ?' intimating, that the ascending up on high, 
 of which the Psalmist speaks, is to be understood 
 in reference to a previous descent into the lowest 
 regions as its opposite. 
 
 Some, however, have imagined, that the descent 
 into hell is not to be deduced from this text with 
 the same certainty as from the former. They ima- 
 gine something of ambiguity in the phrase of 
 ' the lower parts of the earth.' Rightly referring 
 the ascending up on high to our Lord's ascension 
 into heaven, they think that * the lower parts of 
 the earth* may signify the earth generally, as lower 
 than the heavens, and even nothing lower than the 
 very surface of it. And it must be confessed that 
 our Lord speaks of himself before his death, while 
 he was living upon the surface of the earth, as 
 having come down to it from heaven. Neverthe- 
 less, ' the lower parts of the earth,' in the Greek 
 language, in which the apostle writes, is a peri- 
 phrasis for " hell," in the proper sense of that 
 word, as the invisible mansion of departed spi- 
 rits. The phrase is so perfectly equivalent to 
 the word " hell," that we find it used instead of 
 that word in some of the Greek copies of the creed, 
 in this very article, where the mention of our 
 Lord's coming down from heaven to dwell upon 
 the earth would be quite out of place, after the 
 mention of the sev iral events of his birth, cruci- 
 
316 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 fixion, death, and burial, in their natural order and 
 succession. But, indeed, this phrase of the ' lower 
 parts of the earth,' is in the Greek language so 
 much a name for the central parts of the globe, as 
 distinguished from the surface or the outside on 
 which we live, that had the apostle intended by 
 this phrase to denote the inhabited surface of the 
 earth, as lower than the heavens, we may confi- 
 dently say, his Greek converts at Ephesus would 
 not easily have guessed his meaning. This text, 
 therefore, when the Greek words are taken in 
 the only sense in which any writer in that lan- 
 guage would have used, or any one who spoke 
 the language would have understood them, ex- 
 pressly affirms a descent of Christ's spirit into 
 hell. 
 
 A third scripture which goes to the proof of the 
 same fact, is that very remarkable passage in the 
 third chapter of St. Peter's first Epistle, which I 
 have chosen for my text. I might mention, as a 
 fourth, another passage in the following chapter of 
 the same epistle, which alludes to the same event ; 
 but not, I think, with equal certainty ; for the 
 sense of that following passage is indeed dependent 
 upon this, insomuch that any figurative interpreta- 
 tion which would invalidate the argument we shall 
 deduce from this first passage, would, in an equal 
 degree, affect the second ; and no proof can be 
 drawn from that of Christ's descent into hell, if 
 none can be previously found in the words of my 
 text. 
 
 But in them, taken in their most literal and ob- 
 vious meaning, we find not only a distinct assertion 
 of the fact, that " Christ descended into hell," in 
 his disembodied spirit ; but moreover, a declaration 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 317 
 
 of the business upon which he went thither, or in 
 which at least his soul was employed while it was 
 there. 'Being put to death in the flesh, but quick- 
 ened by the Spirit; by which also he went and 
 preached unto the spirits in prison, which some 
 time were disobedient.' The interpretation of this 
 whole passage turns upon the expression, 'spirits 
 in prison ;' the sense of which I shall first, there- 
 fore, endeavour to ascertain, as the key to the mean- 
 ing of the whole. It is hardly necessary to men- 
 tion, that ' spirits' here can signify no other spirits 
 than the souls of men ; for we read not of any 
 preaching of Christ to any other race of beings 
 than mankind. The apostle's assertion, therefore, 
 is this, that Christ went and preached to souls of 
 men in prison. The invisible mansion of departed 
 spirits, though certainly not a place of penal con- 
 finement to the good, is nevertheless in some re- 
 spects a prison. It is a place of seclusion from the 
 external world — a place of unfinished happiness, 
 consisting in rest, security, and hope, more than 
 enjoyment. It is a place which the souls of men 
 never would have entered, had not sin introduced 
 death, and from which there is no exit by any na- 
 tural means for those who once have entered. The 
 deliverance of the saints from it is to be effected by 
 our Lord's power. It is described in the old Latin 
 language as a place enclosed within an impassible 
 fence ; and in the poetical parts of Scripture it is 
 represented as secured by gates of brass, which our 
 Lord is to batter down, and barricadoed with huge 
 massive iron bars, which he is to cut in sunder. 
 As a place of confinement, therefore, though not of 
 punishment, it may well be called a prison. The 
 original word, however, in this text of the apostle 
 
318 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 imports not of necessity so much as this, but merely 
 a place of safe keeping ; for so this passage might 
 be rendered with great exactness. • He went and 
 preached to the spirits in safe keeping.' And the 
 invisible mansion of departed souls is to the righte- 
 ous a place of safe keeping, where they are pre- 
 served under the shadow of God's right hand, as 
 their condition sometimes is described in Scripture, 
 till the season shall arrive for their advancement to 
 their future glory; as the souls of the wicked, on 
 the other hand, are reserved in the other division of 
 the same place, unto the judgment of the great 
 day. Now, if Christ went and preached to souls of 
 men thus in prison or in safe keeping, surely he 
 went to the prison of those souls, or to the place of 
 their custody ; and what place that should be but 
 the hell of the apostles' creed, to which our Lord 
 descended, I have not yet met with the critic that 
 could explain. So clearly does this text affirm the 
 fact of Christ's descent into hell. 
 
 But this is not all. It agrees with the apostles' 
 creed in the time of this event, that it was in the 
 interval between our Lord's death and resurrection ; 
 for the apostle affirms, that it was in his spirit, 
 that is, in his disembodied soul, that Christ went 
 and preached to those souls in safe custody. 
 ' Being put to death in the flesh, but quickened 
 by the Spirit.' ' Quickened by the Spirit.' — The 
 Spirit in these English words, seems to be put, 
 not for the soul of Christ, but for the Divine Spirit; 
 and the sense seems to be, that Christ, after he was 
 put to death, was raised to life again by the Holy 
 Spirit. But this, though it be the sense of the 
 English translation, and a true proposition, is cer- 
 tainly not the sense of the apostle's words. It is 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 319 
 
 of great importance to remark, though it may seem 
 a grammatical nicety, that the prepositions in 
 either branch of this clause, have been supplied 
 by the translators, and are not in the original. The 
 words ' flesh' and f spirit,' in the original, stand 
 without any preposition, in that case which, in the 
 Greek language, without any preposition, is the 
 case either of the cause or instrument by which — 
 of the time when — of the place where — of the part 
 in which — of the manner how — or of the respects 
 in which, according to the exigence of the context; 
 and, to any one who will consider the original with 
 critical accuracy, it will be obvious, from the per- 
 fect antithesis of these two clauses concerning 
 flesh and spirit, that if the word ' spirit' denote 
 the active cause by which Christ was restored to 
 life, which must be supposed by them who under- 
 stand the word of the Holy Ghost, the word 'flesh' 
 must equally denote the active cause by which he 
 was put to death, which therefore must have been 
 the flesh of his own body; an interpretation too 
 manifestly absurd to be admitted. But if the word 
 ' flesh' denote, as it most evidently does, the part 
 in which death took effect upon him, ' spirit' must 
 denote the part in which life was preserved in him, 
 that is, his own soul ; and the word I quickened' 
 is often applied to signify, not the resuscitation of 
 life extinguished, but the preservation and conti- 
 nuance of life subsisting. The exact rendering, 
 therefore, of the apostle's words would be, ' Being- 
 put to death in the flesh, but quick in the spirit :' 
 that is, surviving in his soul the stroke of death 
 which his body had sustained ; * by which/ or 
 rather 'in which/ that is, in which surviving 
 
320 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 soul, * he went and preached to the souls of men 
 in prison/ or ' in safe keeping.' 
 
 It is not to be wondered that this text should 
 have been long considered in the church as one of 
 the principal foundations of the Catholic belief of 
 Christ's descent into hell : it is rather to be won- 
 dered that so clear a proof should ever have been 
 abandoned. In the articles of religion agreed upon 
 in convocation in the year 1552, the 6th Edward 
 the Sixth, and published by the king's authority 
 the following year, the third article is in these 
 words : " As Christ died and was buried for us, so 
 also it is to be believed that he went down into 
 hell ; for the body lay in the sepulchre until the 
 resurrection, but his ghost departing from him, was 
 with the ghosts that were in prison, or in hell, as 
 the place of St. Peter doth testify." But in the 
 short interval of ten years, between this convoca- 
 tion, in the reign of Edward, and the setting forth 
 of the thirty-nine articles in their present form, in 
 the 5th of queen Elizabeth, a change seems to have 
 taken place in the opinions of the divines of our 
 church with respect to this text of St. Peter; for in 
 the articles, as they were then drawn, and we now 
 have them, Christ's descent into hell is still asserted, 
 but the proof of it from the text of St. Peter is 
 withdrawn; — as if the literal sense of the text which 
 affords the proof had fallen under suspicion, and 
 some other exposition of it had been adopted. This 
 change of opinion, I fear, is to be ascribed to an 
 undue reliance of the divines of that time on the 
 authority of St. Austin; for St. Austin was, I think, 
 the first who doubted of the literal sense of this pas- 
 sage of St. Peter. He perplexes himself with some 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 321 
 
 questions, which seemed to him to arise out of it, 
 of too great subtlety perhaps to be solved by man ; 
 and then he had recourse to the usual but dan- 
 gerous expedient of abandoning the plain meaning 
 of the passage, for some loose, figurative interpreta- 
 tion, which presents a proposition of no sort of dif- 
 ficulty to the understanding of the critic, because 
 in truth it is a proposition of his own making. I 
 mean not to depreciate the character of St. Aus- 
 tin. He was indeed in his day, a burning and 
 a shining light ; and he has been ever since, by his 
 writings, one of the brightest luminaries of the 
 Latin church ; — a man of warm, unaffected piety, 
 of the greatest natural talents and the highest at- 
 tainments, exercised in the assiduous study of the 
 holy Scriptures, replete with sacred learning, and 
 withal deeply versed in that Pagan lore, in which, 
 however it may have been of late shamefully calum- 
 niated, the soundest divines have always been great 
 proficients. In polite literature he was the rival, 
 in science and philosophy the superior, by many 
 degrees, of his great cotemporary St Jerome. But 
 it was a culpable deference to the authority even 
 of so great and good a man, if his doubts were in 
 any case turned into objections, and the interpre- 
 tation of Scripture adjusted to opinions which he 
 himself propounds with doubt and hesitation. Those 
 in latter time, who have improved upon St. Aus- 
 tin's hint of figurating this passage, have succeeded 
 no better than they who have made the like at- 
 tempt upon the article of our Lord's descent in the 
 creed. They tell us, that by the souls in prison 
 are to be understood the Gentile world in bondage 
 and captivity to sin and Satan, and held in the 
 chains of their own lusts; and for confirmation of 
 
322 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 this, they refer to those passages of the prophet 
 Isaiah in which it is predicted of Christ, that he is 
 to bring the prisoners out of prison, and them that 
 sit in darkness out of the prison-house, — that he is 
 to say to the prisoners, ' Go forth,' — that he is to 
 proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of 
 the prison to those that are bound. 
 
 Now, we deny not that the state of the unre- 
 generate, carnal man, is indeed represented in 
 Scripture under the images of captivity and bond- 
 age, and his sinful lusts under the image of chains 
 and fetters ; but, with respect to the alleged pas- 
 sages from the prophet Isaiah, — in the last of them 
 most indubitably, and I believe in all, but in the 
 last without doubt, — the prison is no other than that 
 self-same place which is the prison or place of safe 
 keeping in this text of St. Peter, according to our 
 notion of it. The enlargement of the saints from 
 the confinement of that place is the liberation pre- 
 dicted. Their souls in that place are the captives 
 to whom the Redeemer, at the season of his final 
 triumph over death and hell, shall say, ' Go forth.' 
 These texts of the prophets, therefore, rather afford 
 a confirmation of the literal acceptation of the apos- 
 tle's words, than of those jejune figurative inter- 
 pretations, which modern criticism, scared at the 
 bugbear of purgatory, would substitute for the 
 plain and obvious sense. 
 
 It cannot, however, be dissembled, that difficul- 
 ties arise out of the particular character of the souls 
 in custody ; to which I shall give such considera- 
 tion as the time will permit. 
 
 The souls in custody, to whom our Saviour went 
 in his disembodied soul and preached, were those 
 ' which sometimes were disobedient.' The expres- 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 323 
 
 Bion 'sometime were/ or 'one while had been, 
 disobedient, implies that they were recovered, how- 
 ever, from that disobedience, and, before their 
 death, had been brought to repentance and faith in 
 the Redeemer to come. To such souls he went 
 and preached. But what did he preach to de- 
 parted souls, and what could be the end of his 
 preaching ? Certainly he preached neither re- 
 pentance nor faith ; for the preaching of either 
 comes too late for the departed soul. These souls 
 had believed and repented, or they had not been 
 in that part of the nether regions which the soul 
 of the Redeemer visited. Nor was the end of his 
 preaching any liberation of them from we know 
 not what purgatorial pains, of which the Scriptures 
 give not the slightest intimation. But if he went 
 to proclaim to them (and to proclaim or publish is 
 the true sense of the word 'to preach') the glad 
 tidings that he had actually offered the sacrifice 
 of their redemption, and was about to appear 
 before the Father as their intercessor, in the merit 
 of his own blood, this was a preaching fit to be 
 addressed to departed souls, and would give new 
 animation and assurance to their hope of the con- 
 summation in due season of their bliss ; and this, 
 it may be presumed, was the end of his preaching. 
 But the great difficulty, in the description of the 
 souls to whom this preaching for this purpose was 
 addressed, is this, that they were souls of some of 
 the antediluvian race. Not that it at all startles 
 me to find antediluvian souls in safe keeping for final 
 salvation: on the contrary, I should find it very diffi- 
 cult to believe (unless I were to read it somewhere 
 in the Bible) that of the millions that perished in 
 the general deluge, all died hardened in impeni- 
 
 y2 
 
324 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 tence and unbelief, insomuch that not one of that 
 race could be an object of future mercy, beside the 
 eight persons who were miraculously saved in the 
 ark, for the purpose of repeopling the depopu- 
 lated earth. Nothing in the general plan of God's 
 dealings with mankind, as revealed in Scripture, 
 makes it necessary to suppose, that, of the antedi- 
 luvian race who might repent upon Noah's preach- 
 ing, more would be saved from the temporal judg- 
 ments than the purpose of a gradual repopulation 
 of the world demanded ; or to suppose, on the 
 other hand, that all who perished in the flood are 
 to perish everlastingly in the lake of fire. But 
 the great difficulty, of which perhaps I may be 
 unable to give any adequate solution, is this, — for 
 what reason should the proclamation of the finish- 
 ing of the great work of redemption be addressed 
 exclusively to the souls of these antediluvian peni- 
 tents ? Were not the souls of the penitents of 
 later ages equally interested in the joyful tidings ? 
 To this I can only answer ; that I think I have ob- 
 served in some parts of Scripture, an anxiety, if 
 the expression may be allowed, of the sacred 
 writers to convey distinct intimations that the an- 
 tediluvian race is not uninterested in the redemp- 
 tion and the final retribution. It is for this purpose, 
 as I conceive, that in the description of the general 
 resurrection, in the visions of the Apocalypse, it 
 is mentioned with a particular emphasis, that the 
 1 sea gave up the dead that were in it ;' which I 
 cannot be content to understand of the few per- 
 sons — few in comparison of the total of mankind — 
 lost at different times by shipwreck, (a poor 
 circumstaace to find a place in the midst of the 
 magnificent images which surround it,) but of the 
 

 BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 325 
 
 myriads who perished in the general deluge, and 
 found their tomb in the waters of that raging 
 ocean. It may be conceived, that the souls of 
 those who died in that dreadful visitation, might 
 from that circumstance have peculiar apprehensions 
 of themselves as the marked victims of divine 
 vengeance, and might peculiarly need the con- 
 solation which the preaching of our Lord in 
 the subterranean regions afforded to these pri- 
 soners of hope. However that may be, thither 
 the apostle says, 'he went and preached.' Is any 
 difficulty that may present itself to the human 
 mind, upon the circumstances of that preaching, of 
 sufficient weight to make the thing unfit to be be- 
 lieved upon the word of the apostle ? Or, are we 
 justified, if for such difficulties, we abandon the 
 plain sense of the apostle's words, and impose 
 upon them another meaning not easily .adapted to 
 the words, though more proportioned to the capa- 
 city of our understanding, — especially when it is 
 confirmed by other Scriptures, .that he went to that 
 place ? In that place he could not but find the 
 souls which are in it in safe keeping ; and, in some 
 way or other, it cannot but be supposed that he 
 would hold conference with them ; and a particu- 
 lar conference with one class might be the means, 
 and certainly could be no obstruction to a general 
 communication with all. If the clear assertions of 
 holy writ are to be discredited, on account of diffi- 
 culties which may seem to the human mind to 
 arise out of them, little will remain to be believed 
 in revealed, or even in what is called natural reli- 
 gion : we must immediately part with the doctrines 
 of atonement — of gratuitous redemption— of justi- 
 fication by faith, without the works of the law — of 
 
326 our lord's descent into hell. 
 
 sanctification by the influence of the Holy Spirit; 
 and we must part at once with the hope of the re- 
 surrection. ■ How are the dead raised up, and 
 with what body do they come ?' are questions 
 more easily asked than answered, unless it may be 
 an answer, to refer the proposer of them to the pro- 
 mises of holy writ ; and the power of God to make 
 good those promises. 
 
 Having now, I trust, shown that the article of 
 Christ's descent into hell is to be taken as a plain 
 matter of fact, in the literal meaning of the words, 
 — having exhibited the positive proof that we find 
 of this fact m holy writ — having asserted the literal 
 meaning of my text, and displayed, in its full force, 
 the convincing proof to be deduced from this pas- 
 sage in particular, I shall now, with great brevity, 
 demonstrate the great use and importance of the 
 fact itself as a point of Christian doctrine. 
 
 Its great use is this, — that it is a clear confuta- 
 tion of the dismal notion of death as a temporary 
 extinction of the life of the whole man ; or, what is 
 no less gloomy and discouraging, the notion of the 
 sleep of the soul in the interval between death and 
 the resurrection. Christ was made so truly man, 
 that whatever took place in the human nature of 
 Christ may be considered as a model and example 
 of what must take place, in a certain due proportion 
 and degree, in every man united to him. Christ's 
 soul survived the death of his body : therefore shall 
 the soul of every believer survive the body's death. 
 Christ's disembodied soul descended into hell ; 
 thither, therefore, shall the soul of every believer 
 in Christ descend. In that place, the soul of 
 Christ, in its separate state, possessed and exercised 
 active powers ; in the same place, therefore, shall 
 
BY BISHOP HORSLEY. 327 
 
 the believer's soul possess and exercise activity. 
 Christ's soul was not left in hell ; neither shall the 
 souls of his servants there be left but for a season. 
 The appointed time will come, when the Redeemer 
 shall set open the doors of their prison-house, and 
 say to his redeemed, • Go forth.' 
 
SERMON XV. 
 
 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 BY DR. DONNE. 
 
 [Joan Donne, bom 1573, was made Dean of St. Paul'* in i621,1 
 and died in 1631.] 
 

SERMON XV 
 
 V 
 
 1 Corinthians, xv. 26. 
 
 The last enemy that shall be destroyed, is death. 
 
 This is a text of the resurrection, and it is not 
 Easter yet ; but it is Easter eve ; all Lent, is but 
 the vigil, the eve of Easter : to so long a festival as 
 never shall end, the resurrection, we may well 
 begin the eve betimes. Forty years long was God 
 grieved for that generation which he loved : let us 
 be content to humble ourselves forty days, to be 
 fitter for that glory which we expect. In the book 
 of God there are many songs; there is but one La- 
 mentation : and that one song of Solomon, nay, 
 some one of David's hundred and fifty Psalms, is 
 longer than the whole book of Lamentations. Make 
 way to an everlasting Easter, by a short Lent; to an 
 undeterminable glory, by a temporary humiliation. 
 You must weep these tears, tears of contrition, tears 
 of mortification, before God will wipe all tears 
 from your eyes. You must die this death, this 
 death of the righteous, the death to sin, before this 
 last enemv, death, shall be destroyed in you, and 
 
332 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 you made partakers of everlasting life, in soul and 
 body too. 
 
 Our division shall be but a short, and our whole 
 exercise but a larger paraphrase upon the words. 
 The words imply first, that the kingdom of Christ, 
 which must be perfected, must be accomplished, 
 (because all things must be subdued unto him,) is 
 not yet perfected, not accomplished yet. Why ? 
 What lacks it ? It lacks the bodies of men, which 
 yet lie under the dominion of another. When we 
 shall also see by that metaphor which the Holy 
 Ghost chooseth to express that in, which is, that 
 there is an enemy, and so a war, and therefore that 
 kingdom is not perfected, that he places perfect 
 happiness, and perfect glory, in perfect peace. 
 But then, how far is any state consisting of many 
 men, how far the state and condition of any one 
 man in particular, from this perfect peace ? How 
 truly a warfare is this life, if the kingdom of heaven 
 itself have not this peace in perfection ! And it 
 hath it not, because there is an enemy : though that 
 enemy shall not overthrow it, yet, because it plots 
 and works, and machinates, and would overthrow 
 it, this is a defect in that peace. 
 
 Who then is this enemy ? An enemy that may 
 thus far think himself equal to God, that as no 
 man ever saw God and lived ; so no man ever saw 
 this enemy and lived, for it is death ; and in this may 
 think himself in number superior to God, that many 
 men live who shall never see God. But, quis homo is 
 David's question, which was never answered, 'Is 
 there any man that lives, and shall not see death ?' 
 An enemy that is so well, victualled against man, as 
 that he cannot want as long as there are men, for 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 333 
 
 be feeds upon man himself. And so well armed 
 against man, as that he cannot want munition, 
 while there are men, for he fights with our weapons; 
 our own faculties, nay, our calamities, yea, our 
 own pleasures are our death. And therefore he is, 
 saith the text, * the last enemy.' 
 
 We have other enemies ; — Satan about us, sin 
 within us ; but the power of both these this enemy 
 shall destroy; but when they are destroyed, he shall 
 retain a hostile and triumphant dominion over us. 
 But usque quo, Domine P How long, O Lord ; for 
 ever ? No, he shall be destroyed : we see this 
 enemy all the way, and all the way we feel him ; 
 but we shall see him destroyed. But how ? or 
 when ? At and by the resurrection of our bodies ; 
 for, as upon my expiration, my transmigration from 
 hence, as soon as my soul enters into heaven, I 
 shall be able to say to the angels, I am of the same 
 stuff as you, spirit and spirit, and therefore let me 
 stand with you, and look upon the face of your 
 God and my God ; so at the resurrection of this 
 body, I shall be able to say to the angel of the 
 great council, the Son of God, Christ Jesus him- 
 self, I am of the same stuff as you, body and body, 
 flesh and flesh ; and therefore let me sit down with 
 you, at the right hand of the Father, in an everlast- 
 ing security from this last enemy, death, who is 
 now destroyed. And in these seven steps we shall 
 pass apace, and yet clearly, through this para- 
 phrase. 
 
 We begin with this : that the kingdom of hea- 
 ven hath not all that it must have to a consummate 
 perfection, till it have bodies too. In those infi- 
 nite millions of millions of generations, in which 
 the holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity enjoyed 
 
334 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 themselves one another, and no more, they thought 
 not their glory so perfect, but that it might receive 
 an addition from creatures; and therefore they 
 made a world, a material world, a corporeal world, — 
 they would have bodies. In that noble part of that 
 world which Moses called the firmament, that great 
 expansion from God's chair to his footstool, from 
 heaven to earth, there was a defect, which God did 
 not supply that day, nor the next ; but the fourth 
 day he did; for that day he made those bodies, 
 those great and lightsome bodies, the sun, and 
 moon, and stars, and placed them in the firmament. 
 So also the heaven of heavens, the presence cham- 
 ber of God himself, expects the presence of our 
 bodies. 
 
 No state upon earth can subsist without those 
 bodies, men, of their own. For men that are sup- 
 plied from others, may either in necessity, or in 
 indignation, be withdrawn, and so that state 
 which stood upon foreign legs, sinks. Let the 
 head be gold, and the arms silver, and the belly 
 brass ; if the feet be clay ' — men that may slip and 
 moulder away — all is but an image, all is but a 
 dream of an image : for foreign helps are rather 
 crutches than legs. There must be bodies — men ; 
 and able bodies, able men; men that eat the good 
 things of the land, their own figs and olives; men 
 not macerated with extortions. They are glorified 
 bodies that make up the kingdom of heaven ; bo- 
 dies that partake of the tjood of the state, that make 
 up the state; bodies^ able bodies, and lastly, bodies 
 inanimated with one soul, one vegetative soul ; all 
 must be sensible and compassionate of one another's 
 
 ■ Dan. ii. 31. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 335 
 
 misery ; and especially the immortal soul, one su- 
 preme soul, one religion. 
 
 The kingdom of heaven must have bodies. King- 
 doms of the earth must have them ; and if upon 
 the earth thou beest in the way to heaven, thou 
 must have a body too, a body of thine own, a body 
 in thy possession : for thy body hath thee, and not 
 thou it, if thy body tyrannise over thee. If thou 
 canst not withdraw thine eye from an object of 
 temptation, or withhold thy hand from subscribing 
 against thy conscience, nor thine ear from a popu- 
 lar and seditious libel, what hast thou towards a 
 man ? Thou hast no soul, nay thou hast no body : 
 there is a body, but thou hast it not, it is not thine, 
 it is not in thy power. Thy body will rebel against 
 thee even in a sin : it will not perform a sin, when, 
 and where thou wouldst have it : much more will 
 it rebel against any good work, till thou have im- 
 printed the marks of the Lord Jesus, 1 which were 
 but exemplar in him, but are essential and necessary 
 to thee — abstinences, and such discreet disciplines 
 and mortifications as may subdue that body to 
 thee, and make it thine : for till then it is but thine 
 enemy, and maintains a war against thee ; and war 
 and enemy is the metaphor which the Holy Ghost 
 hath taken here to express a want, a kind of imper- 
 fectness even in heaven itself. Bellum symbolum 
 mall. As peace is of all goodness, so war is an 
 emblem, a hieroglyphic of all misery ; and that is 
 our second step in this paraphrase. 
 
 If the feet of them that preach peace be beauti- 
 ful, (and, * O, how beautiful are the feet of them 
 that preach peace ! ' The prophet Isaiah asks the 
 
 ' Gal. vi. 17. 
 
33Q, THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 question, 1 and the prophet Nahum asks* it, and 
 the apostle Paul asks it 3 — they all ask it, but 
 none answers it,) who shall answer us, if we ask, 
 How beautiful is his face who is the author of 
 this peace, when we shall see that in the glory of 
 heaven, the centre of all true peace ? It was the 
 inheritance of Christ Jesus upon the earth; he had 
 it at his birth, he brought it with him : ■ Glory be to 
 God on high, peace upon earth !' 4 It was his pur- 
 chase upon earth : * He made peace (indeed he 
 bought peace) through the blood of his cross.' 5 It 
 was his testament, when he went from earth: 
 ' Peace I leave with you ; my peace I give unto 
 you.' 6 Divide with him in that blessed inheritance, 
 partake with him in that blessed purchase, enrich 
 thyself with that blessed legacy, — his peace. 
 
 Let the whole world be in thy consideration as 
 one house ; and then consider in that, in the peace- 
 ful harmony of creatures, in the peaceful succession 
 and connexion of causes and effects, the peace of 
 nature. Let this kingdom, where God hath blessed 
 thee with a being, be the gallery, the best room of 
 that house ; and consider in the two walls of that 
 gallery, the church and the state, the peace of a 
 royal and a religious wisdom. Let thine own 
 family be a cabinet in this gallery ; and find in all 
 the boxes thereof, in the several duties of wife, and 
 children, and servants, the peace of virtue, and of 
 the father and mother of all virtues, active discre- 
 tion, passive obedience ; and then, lastly, let thine 
 own bosom be the secret box and reserve in this 
 cabinet, and then the best jewel in the best cabinet, 
 
 '• Chap. lii. 7. 3 Chap. i. 15. 8 Rom. x. 15. 
 
 « Luke ii. 14. { Colos. i. 20. 6 John xiv. 27. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 337 
 
 ■*■ 
 
 and that in the best gallery of the best house that 
 can be had, peace with the creature, peace in the 
 church, peace in the state, peace in thy house, 
 peace in thy heart, is a fair model, and a lovely 
 design even of the heavenly Jerusalem, where there 
 is no object but peace. ■*- 
 
 And therefore the Holy Ghost, to intimate to us 
 that happy perfectness which we shall have at last, 
 and not till then, chooses the metaphor of an 
 enemy, and enmity, to avert us from looking for 
 true peace from any thing that presents itself in the 
 way. Neither truly could the Holy Ghost imprint 
 more horror by any word than that which inti- 
 mates war, as the word enemy does. It is but a 
 little way that the poet hath got in description of 
 war, Jam seges est — that now, that place is ploughed 
 where the great city stood: for it is not so great a 
 depopulation to translate a city from merchants to 
 husbandmen, from shops to ploughs, as it is from 
 many husbandmen to one shepherd ; and yet that 
 hath been often done. And all that, at most, is 
 but a depopulation, it is not a devastation, that 
 Troy was ploughed. But when the prophet Isaiah 
 comes to the devastation, to the extermination of a 
 war, he expresses it first thus : 'Where there were 
 a thousand vineyards at a cheap rate, all the land 
 became briars and thorns.' x That is much ; but 
 there is more — ' The earth shall be removed out of 
 her place ; that land, that nation, shall no more be 
 called that nation, nor that land.' 2 But, yet more 
 than that too ; not only not that people, but no 
 other shall ever inhabit it : ' It shall never be in- 
 habited from generation to generation, neither shall 
 
 1 Isai. vii. 23. « lb. xiii. 13. 
 
 z 
 
338 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 shepherds be there ; not only no merchant, nor 
 husbandman, but no depopuJator ; none but owls, 
 and ostriches, and satyrs ;' • indeed God knows 
 what — ochim and ziim, words which truly we can- 
 not translate. 
 
 In a word, the horror of war is best discerned 
 in the company he keeps, in his associates. And 
 when the prophet Gad brought war into the pre- 
 sence of David, there came with him famine and 
 pestilence.* And when famine entered, we see the 
 effects ; it brought mothers to eat their children of 
 a span long. And when war's other companion, 
 the pestilence, entered, we see the effects of that 
 too : in less than half the time that it was threat- 
 ened for, it devoured threescore and ten thousand 
 of David's men ; and yet for all the vehemence, the 
 violence, the impetuousness of this pestilence, Da- 
 vid chose this pestilence rather than a war. Mili- 
 tia and malitia, are words of so near a sound, as 
 that the Vulgate edition takes them as one. For 
 where the prophet speaking of the miseries that 
 Jerusalem had suffered, says, finita militia ejus, 
 let her warfare be at an end,' they read jinita 
 malitia ejus, ' let her misery be at an end : ' 3 war and 
 misery is all one thing. But is there any of this 
 in heaven ? Even the saints in heaven lack some- 
 thing of the consummation of their happiness, be- 
 cause they have an enemy. And that is our third 
 and next step. 
 
 Michael and his angels fought against the devil 
 and his angels; though that war ended in victory, 
 yet (taking that war, as divers expositors do, for the 
 fall of angels) that kingdom lost so many inhabi- 
 
 ' Isai. xiiL 19. a 2 Sam. xxiv. 13. 3 Isai. xl. 2. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 339 
 
 tants, as that all the souls of all that shall be saved 
 shall but fill the places of them that fell, and so 
 make up that kingdom but«as well as it was before 
 that war : so ill effects accompany even the most 
 victorious war. There is no war in heaven, yet air 
 is not well, because there is an enemy ; for that 
 enemy would kindle a war again, but that he re- 
 members how ill he sped last time he did so. It is 
 not an enemy that invades neither, but only de- 
 tains : he detains the bodies of the saints which are 
 in heaven, and therefore is an enemy to the king- 
 dom of Christ. He that detains the souls of men in 
 superstition, he that detains the hearts and alle- 
 giance of subjects in an hesitation, a vacillation, 
 an irresolution, where they shall fix them, whether 
 upon their sovereign, or a foreign power, he is 
 in the notion and acceptation of ' enemy ' in this 
 text; an enemy, though no hostile act be done. It 
 is not a war, it is but an enemy ; not an invading, 
 but a detaining enemy ; and then this enemy is but 
 one enemy, and yet he troubles and retards the 
 consummation of that kingdom. 
 
 Antichrist alone is enemy enough : but never 
 carry this consideration beyond thyself. As long 
 as there remains in thee one sin, or the sinful gain 
 of that one sin, so long there is one enemy ; and 
 where there is one enemy, there is no peace. Gar- 
 deners that husband their ground to the best ad- 
 vantage, sow all their seeds in such order, one 
 under another, that their garden is always full of 
 that which is then in season. If thou sin with that 
 providence, with that seasonableness, that all thy 
 spring, thy youth be spent in wantonness; all thy 
 summer, thy middle-age in ambition ; and the 
 ways of preferment ; and thy autumn, thy winter 
 
 z2 
 
340 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 in indevotion and covetousness, though thou have 
 no further taste of licentiousness, in thy middle- 
 age, thou hast thy satiety in that sin, — nor of ambi- 
 tion in thy last years, thou hast accumulated titles 
 of honour ; yet all the way thou hast had one ene- 
 my, and therefore never any perfect peace. But 
 who is this one enemy in this text ? As long as 
 we put it off, and as loath as we are to look this 
 enemy in the face, yet we must, though it be 
 death. And this is the fourth step in this para- 
 phrase. 
 
 * Arise and go down/ ' says the prophet Jeremy, 
 that is, say the expositors, to the consideration of 
 thy mortality : a descent with an ascension. Our 
 grave is upward, and our heart is upon Jacob's 
 ladder, in the way, and nearer to heaven. Our 
 daily funerals are some emblems of that; for 
 though we be laid down in the earth after, yet we 
 are lifted up upon men's shoulders before. We rise 
 in the descent to death, and so we do in the de- 
 scent to the contemplation of it. In all the pot- 
 ter's house, is there one vessel made of better stuff 
 than clay ? There is his matter. And of all 
 forms, a circle is the perfectest, and art thou loath 
 to make up that circle, with returning to the earth 
 again ? 
 
 Thou must, though thoti be loath. Fortasse, 
 says St. Augustine, (that word of contingency, of 
 casualty,) ' perchance,' in omnibus ferine rebus prcc- 
 terquam in morte locum habet — " hath place in 
 all human actions excepting death." He makes 
 his example thus : — such a man is married ; where 
 he would, or at least where he must, where his pa- 
 
 1 Jer. xviii. 2. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 341 
 
 rents, or his guardian will have him. Shall he have 
 children? For tasse, says he — they are a young 
 couple, perchance they shall. And shall those 
 children be sons? For tasse — they are of a strong 
 constitution, perchance they shall. And shall 
 those sons live to be men ? Fortasse — they are from 
 healthy parents, perchance they shall. And when 
 they have lived to be men, shall they be good 
 men ; such as good men may be glad they may 
 live? Fortasse, still. They are of virtuous parents — 
 it may be they shall : but when they are come to 
 that Morientur — shall those good men die ? Here, 
 says that Father the fortasse vanishes ; here it is om- 
 nino, certe, sine dubitatione — " infallibly, inevitably, 
 irrecoverably" they must die. Doth man not die, 
 even in his birth ? The breaking of prison is 
 death, and what is our birth but a breaking of 
 prison ? As soon as we were clothed by God, our 
 very apparel was an emblem of death. In the 
 skins of dead beasts he covered the skins of dying 
 men. As soon as God set us on work, our very 
 occupation was an emblem of death. It was to dig 
 the earth; not to dig pitfals for other men, but 
 graves for ourselves. Hath any man here forgot 
 to-day, that yesterday is dead ? And the bell tolls 
 for to-day, and will ring out anon ; and for as 
 much of every one of us, as appertains to this day. 
 " We die every day, and we die all the day long ; 
 and because we are not absolutely dead, we call 
 that an eternity, an eternity of dying," 1 says St. 
 Jerome. And is there comfort in that state ? 
 Why, that is the state of hell itself— eternal dying, 
 and not dead. 
 
 But for this there is enough said, by the moral- 
 
 1 Quotidie morimur, et tamen nos esse aeternos putamus. 
 
342 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 ist; (that we may respite divine proofs, for di- 
 vine points anon — for our several resurrections;) for 
 this death is merely natural, and it is enough that 
 the moralist says, Mors lex, tributum, officium 
 mortalium. 1 First it is lex, you were born under 
 that law, upon that condition, to die : so it is a re- 
 bellious thing not to be content to die, it opposes 
 the law. Then it is tributum, an imposition which 
 nature, the queen of this world, lays upon us, and 
 which she will take when and where she list; 
 here a young man, there an old man; here a happy, 
 there a miserable man : and so it is a seditious 
 thing not to be content to die ; it opposes the pre- 
 rogative. And lastly, it is officium : men are to 
 have their turns, to take their time, and then to 
 give way by death to successors ; and so, not to be 
 content to die, opposes the frame and form of go- 
 vernment. It comes equally to us all, and makes 
 us all equal when it comes. The ashes of an oak 
 in the chimney, are no epitaph of that gak, to tell 
 me how high or how large that was : it tells me not 
 what flocks it sheltered while it stood, nor what 
 men it hurt when- it fell. The dust of great per- 
 sons' graves is speechless too ; it says nothing, it 
 distinguishes nothing. As soon the dust of a wretch 
 whom thou wouldst not, as of a prince whom 
 thou couldst not look upon, will trouble thine 
 eyes, if the wind blow it thither; and when a 
 whirlwind hath blown the dust of the church-yard 
 into the church, and the man sweeps out the dust 
 of the church into the church-yard, who will un- 
 dertake to sift those dusts again, and to pronounce — 
 This is the patrician ; this is the noble flour, and this 
 the yeomanly, this the plebeian bran. So is the 
 
 1 Seneca. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 343 
 
 death of Jezabel (Jezabel was a queen) expressed : 
 ' They shall not say, this is Jezabel ;' not only not 
 wonder that it is, nor pity that it should be, but they 
 shall not say — they shall notknow-*-This is Jezabel. 
 It comes to all, to all alike ; but not alike welcome 
 to all. To die too willingly — out of impatience to 
 wish, or out of violence to hasten death ; or to die 
 too unwillingly — to murmur at God's purpose re- 
 vealed by age, or by sickness, are equal distempers ; 
 and to harbour a disobedient loathness all the way, 
 or to entertain it at last, argues but an irreligious 
 ignorance — an ignorance, that death is in nature 
 but an expiration, a breathing out, and we do that 
 every minute;- — an ignorance that God himself 
 took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his 
 sabbath ; — an ignorance that Abel, the best of those 
 whom we can compare with him,was the first that 
 died. Howsoever, whensoever, all times are God's 
 times : " God calls the good to take them from 
 their dangers, and God takes the bad to take them 
 from their triumph." 1 And therefore neither 
 grudge that thou goest, nor that worse stay, for 
 God can make his profit of both : God reprieves 
 him to mend him, or to make another better by his 
 exercise. And, not to exult in the misery of an- 
 other, but to glorify God in the ways of his justice, 
 let him know, ' how long soever he live, how long 
 soever he lie sick, that man dies a sudden death, 
 who never thought of it.' 3 If we consider death in 
 St. PauPs statutum egt, * it is decreed that all 
 
 1 Vocantur boni ne diutius vexentur a noxiis, mali ne diutius 
 bonos persequanlur. — August. 
 
 " Aut ideo vivitut corrigatur, aut ideo ut per ilium bonus ex- 
 erceatur. 
 
 3 Quantumcunque sero, subitb ex hac vita tollitur, qui finem 
 pra?videre nescivit. — Gregor. 
 
344 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 men must die/ — there death is indifferent. If we 
 consider it in his mori lucrum, ( that it is an ad- 
 vantage to die,' — there death is good ; and so much 
 the Vnig ite edition seems to intimate, when, whereas 
 we read, (Deut. xxx. 19,) 'I have set before you life 
 and death,' that reads it, vitam et bonum, * life, and 
 that which is good/ If then death be at the worst 
 indifferent, and to the good, good, how is it an 
 ' enemy' to the kingdom of Christ ? for that is the 
 fifth and next step in this paraphrase. 
 
 First, God did not make death, says the wise man. 1 
 And therefore St. Augustine makes a reasonable 
 prayer to God : " Suffer not, O Lord, death, whom 
 thou didst not make, to have dominion over me 
 whom thou didst." 3 Whence then came death ? — 
 The same wise man hath showed us the father: 
 through envy of the devil, came death into the 
 world ; 3 and a wiser than he, the Holy Ghost himself, 
 hath showed us the mother : 'By sin came death into 
 the world.' 4 But yet if God have naturalized death, 
 taken death into the number of his servants, and 
 made death his commissioner to punish sin, and 
 he do but that, how is death an enemy ? First he 
 was an enemy in invading Christ, who was not in 
 his commission, because he had no sin ; and still 
 he is an enemy, because still he adheres to the 
 enemy. Death hangs upon the edge of every per- 
 secutor's sword ; and upon the sting of every 
 calumniator's, and accuser's tongue. In the bull of 
 Phalaris, in the bulls of Basan, in the bulls of 
 Babylon — the shrewdest bulls' of all — in temporal, 
 
 1 Sap. i. 13. 
 
 8 Ne permittas, Domine, quod non fecisti, dominari creaturae 
 quam fecisti.— Sap. i. 13. 
 
 3 Sap. ii. lilt 4 Rom. v. 12. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 345 
 
 in spiritual persecutions — ever since God put an 
 enmity between man and the serpent, from the 
 time of Cain who began in a murder, to the time 
 of Antichrist, who proceeds in massacres — death 
 hath adhered to the enemy, and so is an enemy. 
 
 Death hath a commission: — 'The reward of sin 
 is death;' but whereas God gives a supersedeas, upon 
 that commission — ' As I live, saith the Lord, I would 
 have no sinner die' — not die the second death — yet 
 death proceeds to that execution. And whereas the 
 enemy, whom he adheres to, the serpent himself, 
 hath power but upon the heel, the lower, the mor- 
 tal part, the body of man, death is come up into 
 our windows,' 1 saith the prophet, into our best 
 lights, our understandings, and benights us there, 
 either with ignorance before sin, or with senseless- 
 ness after; and a sheriff that should bum him, 
 who were condemned to be hanged, were a mur- 
 derer, though that man must have died : to come 
 in by the door, by the way of sickness upon the 
 body, is, but to come in at the window by the way 
 of sin, is not, death's commission ; God opens not 
 that window. 
 
 So then he is an enemy ; for they that adhere to 
 the enemy are enemies ; and adhering is not only 
 a present subministration of supply to the enemy, 
 (for that death doth not,) but it is also a disposition 
 to assist the enemy, then when he shall be strong 
 enough to make benefit of that assistance. And so 
 death adheres: when sin and Satan have weakened 
 body and mind, death enters upon both. And in 
 that respect he is the last enemy ; and that is our 
 sixth and next step in this paraphrase. 
 
 f Jer. ix. 21. 
 
346 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 Death is the last, and in that respect the worst 
 enemy. In an enemy, that appears at first, when 
 we are or may be provided against him, there is 
 some of that which we call honour ; but in the 
 enemy that reserves himself unto the last, and at- 
 tends our weak estate, there is more danger. Keep 
 it, where I intend it, in that which is my sphere, 
 the conscience. If mine enemy meet me betimes in 
 my youth, in an object of temptation, (so Joseph's 
 enemy met him in Potiphar's wife,) yet, if I do not 
 adhere to this enemy — dwell upon a delightful me- 
 ditation of that sin ; if I do not fuel and foment 
 that sin, assist and encourage that sin by high diet, 
 wanton discourse, other provocation ; I shall have, 
 reason on my side, and I shall have grace on my 
 side, and I shall have the history of a thousand 
 that have perished by that sin on my side. Nay, 
 perchance sometimes the virtue of that woman, 
 whom I solicit, will assist me. But, when I lie 
 under the hands of that enemy that hath reserved 
 himself to the last — to my last bed — then, when I 
 shall be able to stir no limb in any other measure 
 than a fever or a palsy shall shake them*; when 
 everlasting darkness shall have an incohation in the 
 present dimness of mine eyes, and the everlasting 
 gnashing in the present chattering of my teeth, 
 and the everlasting worm in the present gnawing* 
 of the agonies of my body, and anguishes of my 
 mind ; when the last enemy shall watch my re- 
 mediless body and my . disconsolate soul there, 
 where not the physician, in his way, perchance not 
 the priest in his, shall be able to give any assist- 
 ance ; and, when he hath sported himself with my 
 misery upon that stage., my death-bed shall shift 
 the scene, and throw me from that bed into the 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 347 
 
 grave, and there triumph over me, God knows, 
 how many generations, till the Redeemer, my Re- 
 deemer, the Redeemer of all me, body as well as 
 soul, come again ; — as death is the enemy which 
 watches me at my last weakness, and shall hold 
 me, when I shall be no more, till that angel come, 
 * who shall say, and swear that time shall be no 
 more:' — in that consideration, in that apprehension, 
 he is the powerfulest, the fearfulest enemy. And 
 yet even there this enemy shall be destroyed ; 
 which is our seventh and last step in this para- 
 phrase. 
 
 This destruction, this abolition of this last enemy, 
 is by the resurrection ; for the text is part of an 
 argument for the resurrection. And truly, it is a 
 fair intimation, and testimony of an everlasting end 
 in that state of the resurrection — that no time shall 
 end it — that we have it presented to us in all the 
 parts of time ; in the past, in the present, and in the 
 future. We had a resurrection in prophecy ; we 
 have a resurrection in the present working of God's 
 Spirit; we shall have a resurrection in the final 
 consummation. The prophet speaks in the future : 
 1 He will swallow up death in victory ;' l there it is 
 abolebit, 'he will destroy.' All the evangelists 
 speak historically of matter of fact ; in them it is 
 abolevit, ' he has destroyed.' And here, in this 
 apostle, it is in the present, aboletur, ' now he is de- 
 stroyed.' And this exhibits unto us a threefold 
 occasion of advancing our devotion, in considering 
 a threefold resurrection ; first, a resurrection from 
 dejections and calamities in this world, a temporary 
 resurrection ; secondly, a resurrection from sin, a 
 
 1 Isaiah, xxv. 8. 
 
348 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 spiritual resurrection ; and then a resurrection from 
 the grave, a final resurrection. 
 
 1. From calamity : when the prophets speak of 
 a resurrection in the Old Testament, for the most 
 part their principal intention is upon a temporal 
 restitution from calamities that oppress them then. 
 Neither doth Calvin carry those emphatical words, 
 which are so often cited for a proof of the last re- 
 surrection — ' that he knows his Redeemer lives, 
 that he knows he shall stand the last man upon 
 earth, that though his body be destroyed, yet in 
 his flesh and with his eyes he shall see God,' 1 to 
 any higher sense than so, that how low soever he 
 be brought, to what desperate state soever he be 
 reduced in the eyes of the world, yet he assures 
 himself of a resurrection, a reparation, a restitution 
 to his former bodily health, and worldly fortune 
 which he had before. And such a resurrection we 
 all know Job had. 
 
 In that famous and most considerable prophetical 
 vision which God exhibited to Ezekiel, where God 
 set the prophet in a valley of very many, and very 
 dry bones, and invites the several joints to knit 
 again, ties them with their old sinews and liga- 
 ments, clothes them in their old flesh, wraps them 
 in their old skin, and calls life into them again ; 
 God's principal intention in that vision was thereby 
 to give them an assurance of a resurrection from 
 their present calamity ; but not that there is also 
 good evidence of the last resurrection in that vision 
 too. Thus far God argues with them a re nola ; — 
 from that which they knew before, the final resur- 
 rection; he assures them that which they knew not 
 
 • Job, xix. 25. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 349 
 
 till then — a present resurrection from those pres- 
 sures. ' Remember by this vision, that which you all 
 know already, that at last I shall re-unite the dead, 
 and dry bones of all men in a general resurrection. 
 And then, if you remember, if you consider, if you 
 look upon that, can you doubt, but that I, who can 
 do that, can also recollect you, from your present 
 desperation, and give you a resurrection to your 
 former temporal happiness V And this truly arises 
 pregnantly, necessarily, out of the prophet's answer. 
 God asks him there, * Son of man, can these bones 
 live V And he answers, ' O Lord God, thou know- 
 est.' The prophet answers according to God's in- 
 tention in the question. If that had been for their 
 living in the last resurrection, Ezekiel would have 
 answered God as Martha answered Christ, when 
 he said, ' Thy brother Lazarus shall rise again ;' — * I 
 know that he shall rise again at the resurrection at 
 the last day ;' ' but when the question was, whether 
 men so macerated, so scattered in this world, could 
 have a resurrection to their former temporal happi- 
 ness here, that puts the prophet to his, ' O Lord, 
 thou knowest.' It is in thy breast to propose it; it 
 is in thy hand to execute it; whether thou do it, or 
 do it not, thy name be glorified. It falls rtot within 
 our conjecture, which way it shall please thee to take 
 for this resurrection : * Thou Lord, and thou only 
 knowest.' Which is also the sense of those words : 
 1 Others were tortured, and accepted not a deliver- 
 ance, that they might obtain a better resurrection.' 3 
 A present deliverance had been a resurrection, but 
 to be the more sure of a better hereafter, they less 
 respected that. According to that of our Saviour, 
 
 ' John, xi. 24. » Heb. xi. 35. 
 
350 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 ' He that finds his life shall lose it ; M he that fixeth 
 himself too earnestly upon his resurrection shall 
 lose a better. • 
 
 This is then the prophetical resurrection for the 
 future, but a future in this world ; that if rulers 
 take counsel against the Lord, .the Lord shall have 
 their counsel in derision ; 2 if they take arms against 
 the Lord, the Lord shall break their bows, and cut 
 their spears in sunder ; if they hiss and gnash their 
 teeth, and say, — We have swallowed him up ; if we 
 be made their by-word, their parable, their proverb, 
 their libel, the theme and burden of their songs, as 
 Job complains; yet, whatsoever fall upon me, da- 
 mage, distress, scorn, or ' the last enemy,' death itself, 
 that death which we consider here, death of posses- 
 sions, death of estimation, death of health, death of 
 contentment ; — yet abolebitur, it shall be destroyed in 
 a resurrection, in the return of the light of God's 
 countenance upon me even in this world. And this 
 is the first resurrection. 
 
 2. But this first resurrection, which is but from 
 temporal calamities, doth so little concern a true 
 and established Christian, whether it come or no, 
 (for still Job's basis is his basis, and his centre; 
 though he kill me — kill me in all these several 
 deaths, and give me no resurrection in this world, 
 yet I will trust in him,) it is as though this 
 first resurrection were no resurrection, not to 
 be numbered among the resurrections. St. John 
 calls that which we call the second, which is from 
 sin, the first resurrection : ' Blessed and holy is he, 
 who hath part in the first resurrection.' 3 And this 
 resurrection Christ implies, when he says, ' Verily, 
 
 1 Matt. x. 39. 2 Psalm ii. 4. 3 Apoc. xx. 6. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 351 
 
 verily, I say unto you, the hour, is coming, and 
 now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of 
 the Son of God ; and they that hear it shall live:' 1 
 that is, by the voice of the word of life, the gospel 
 of repentance, they shall have a spiritual resurrec- 
 tion to a new life. 
 
 St. Austin and Lactantius both were so hard in 
 believing the roundness of the earth, that they 
 thought that those homines pensiles, as they call 
 them — those men that hang upon the other cheek 
 of the face of the earth — those antipodes, whose feet 
 are directly against ours, must necesarily fall from 
 the earth, if the earth be round. But whither 
 should they fall ? if they fall, they must fall up- 
 wards, for heaven is above them too, as it is to us. 
 So if the spiritual antipodes of this world, the sons 
 of God, that walk with feet opposed in ways con- 
 trary to the sons of men, shall be said to fall, when 
 they fall to repentance, to mortification, to a reli- 
 gious negligence, and contempt of the pleasures of 
 this life, truly their fall is upwards — they fall to- 
 wards heaven. ' God gives breath unto the people 
 upon the earth,' says the prophet, ' and spirit to 
 them that work therein.' 8 Our translation carries 
 that no further ; but Irenaeus makes a useful dif- 
 ference between 'breath' and 'spirit' — that God 
 gives breath to all upon earth, but his Spirit only 
 to them who tread in a religious scorn upon earthly 
 things. 
 
 Is it not a strange phrase of the apostle, ' Mor- 
 tify your members ; fornication, uncleanness, inor- 
 dinate affections?' 3 He does not say, mortify 
 your members against those sins, but he calls those 
 
 1 John, v. 25. * Isaiah, xlv. 6. 3 Col. iii. 5. 
 
352 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 very sins the members of our bodies, as though we 
 were elemented and compacted of nothing but sin, 
 till we come to this resurrection, this mortification, 
 which is indeed our vivification ; * till we bear in 
 our body the dying of our Lord Jesus, that the 
 life also of Jesus may be made manifest in our 
 body." God may give the other resurrection from 
 worldly misery, and not give this. A widow may 
 be rescued from the sorrow and solitariness of that 
 state, by having a plentiful fortune ; there she hath 
 one resurrection ; but ' the widow that liveth in 
 pleasure, is dead while she lives;' 8 she hath no 
 second resurrection ; and so in that sense, even this 
 chapel may be a church-yard, men may stand, and 
 sit, and kneel, and yet be dead ; and any chamber 
 alone may be a golgotha, a place of dead men's 
 bones, of men not come to this resurrection, which 
 is the renunciation of their beloved sin. 
 
 It was inhumanly said by Vitellius, upon the 
 death of Otho, when he walked in the field of car- 
 casses, where the battle was fought, " O how sweet 
 a perfume is a dead enemy ! " But it is a divine 
 saying to thy soul, " O what a savour of life, unto 
 life, is the death of a beloved sin !" What an an- 
 gelical comfort was that to Joseph and Mary in 
 Egypt, after the death of Herod, ' Arise, for they 
 are dead that sought the child's life ! ' 3 And even 
 that comfort is multiplied upon thy soul, when the 
 Spirit of God says to thee, Arise, come to this resur- 
 rection ; for that Herod, that sin, that sought the 
 life, the everlasting life of this child, the child of 
 God, thy soul, is dead by repentance, dead by mor- 
 tification. The highest cruelty that story relates, 
 
 ' 2 Cor. iv. Ik * 1 l'im. v. 6. 3 Mat. ii. 20. 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 353 
 
 or poets imagine, is when a persecutor will not 
 afford a miserable man death — not be so merciful 
 to him as to take his life. Thou hast made thy sin, 
 thy soul, thy life ; inanimated all thy actions, all 
 thy purposes with that sin. Have pity on thy soul 
 — be so merciful to thyself, as to take away that life 
 by mortification, by repentance, and thou art come 
 to this resurrection : and though a man may have 
 the former resurrection, and not this, — peace in his 
 fortune, and yet not peace in his conscience, yet 
 whosoever hath this second, hath an infallible seal 
 of the third resurrection too, to a fulness of glory 
 in body, as well as in soul. For spiritus maturam 
 efficit camem, et capacem incorruptelce ; this resur- 
 rection by the spirit, mellows the body of man, 
 and makes that capable of everlasting glory, which 
 is th© last weapon, by which the last enemy, death, 
 shall be destroyed. 1 
 
 3. Upon that pious ground that all Scriptures 
 were written for us, as we are Christians; that all 
 Scriptures conduce to the proof of Christ, and of the 
 Christian state ; it is the ordinary manner of the 
 Fathers to make all that David speaks historically 
 of himself, and all that the prophet speaks futurely 
 of the Jews, if those places may be referred to 
 Christ, to refer them to Christ primarily; and but 
 by reflection, and in a second consideration upon 
 David, or upon the Jews. Thereupon do the Fa- 
 thers (truly I think more generally, more unani- 
 mously, than in any other place of Scripture) 
 take that place of Ezekiel which we spoke of be- 
 fore, to be primarily intended of the last resurrec- 
 tion, and but secondarily of the Jews' restitution. 
 
 1 trenaus. 
 
 A A - 
 
354 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 But Gasper Sanctius, a learned Jesuit, (that is not 
 so rare — but an ingenuous Jesuit too,) though he 
 be bound, by the Council of Trent, to interpret 
 Scriptures according to the Fathers, yet here he 
 acknowledges the whole truth, that God's purpose 
 was to prove, by that which they did know, which 
 was the general resurrection, that which they knew 
 not, their temporal restitution. Tertullian is vehe- 
 ment at first, but after, more supple. Allegorica 
 Scripture, says he, resurrect ionetn subradiant alia, 
 alia determinant : some figurative places of Scrip- 
 ture do intimate a resurrection, and some manifest 
 it ; and of those manifest places he takes this vision 
 of Ezekiel to be one. But he comes after to this, 
 sit et corporum, et rerum, et med nihil interest : let 
 it signify a temporal resurrection, so it may sig- 
 nify the general resurrection of our bodies - too, 
 says he, and I am well satisfied ; and then the 
 truth satisfies him, for it doth signify both. It is 
 true that Tertullian says, de vacuo similitudo nan 
 competit ; if the vision be but a comparison, if 
 there were no such thing as a resurrection, the 
 comparison did not hold. De nullo parabola non 
 convenit, says he, and truly : if there were no resur- 
 rection to which that parable might have relation, 
 it were no parable. All that is true : but there 
 was a resurrection always known to them, always 
 believed by them ; and that made their present re- 
 surrection from that calamity the more easy, the 
 more intelligible, the more credible, the more dis- 
 cernible to them. 
 
 Let, therefore, God's method be thy method : fix 
 thyself firmly upon that belief of the general resur- 
 rection, and thou wilt never doubt of either of the 
 particular resurrections, either from sin, by God's 
 
BY DR. DONNE. 355 
 
 grace, or from worldly calamities, by God's power. 
 For that last resurrection is the ground of all. By 
 that vere victa mors, says Irenaeus — this last enemy, 
 death, is truly destroyed; because this last spoil, 
 the body, is taken out of his hands. The same 
 body, eadem ovis, (as the same Father notes.) 
 Christ did not fetch another sheep to the flock, in 
 the place of that which was lost, but the same 
 sheep : God shall not give me another, a better 
 body at the resurrection, but the same body made 
 better ; for if the flesh of man were not to be saved, 
 the Divine Word would never have taken the flesh 
 of man upon him. 1 
 
 The punishment that God laid upon Adam, * In 
 sweat and in sorow shalt thou eat thy bread,' 8 is 
 but * till man return to dust:' but when man is 
 returned to dust, God returns to the remembrance 
 of that promise, ' Awake, and sing, ye that dwell 
 in the dust.' 3 A mercy already exhibited to us, 
 in the person of our Saviour, Christ Jesus; in whom, 
 (says St. Chrysostom) as God, by taking a handful 
 for the first fruits, gave a blessing to the whole 
 field, so he hath sealed the bodies of all mankind 
 to his glory, by pre-assuming the body of Christ to 
 that glory. For by that there is now commercium 
 inter caelum et terrain* — there is a trade driven, a 
 staple established, between heaven and earth ; ibi 
 caro nostra, hie Spiritus ejus ; thither have we sent 
 our flesh, and hither hath he sent his Spirit. 
 
 This is the last abolition of this enemy, death ; 
 for, after this, the bodies of the saints he cannot 
 
 1 Si non haberet caro salvari, neutiquam Verbum Dei caro 
 factum fuisset. — Idem. 
 
 * Gen. iii. 17. * Isaiah, xvi. 19. * Bernard. 
 
366 THE LAST ENEMY. 
 
 touch, the bodies of the damned he cannot kill ; 
 and if he could, he were not therein their enemy, 
 but their friend. This is that blessed and glorious 
 state, of which, when all the apostles met to make 
 the creed, they could say no more, but ' I believe 
 the resurrection of the body ;' and when those two 
 reverend Fathers, to whom it belongs, shall come 
 to speak of it, upon the day proper for it, in this 
 place, and if all the bishops that ever met in coun- 
 cils should meet them here, they could but second 
 the apostles' credo, with their anathema. We be- 
 lieve, and woe be unto them that do not believe, the 
 resurrection of the body ; but in going about to ex- 
 press it the lips of an angel would be uncircum- 
 cised lips, and the tongue of an archangel would 
 stammer. I offer not therefore at it ; but in respect 
 of, and with relation to that blessed state, accord- 
 ing to the doctrine, and practice of our church, we 
 do pray for the dead, — for the militant church upon 
 earth, and the triumphant church in heaven, and 
 the whole catholic church in heaven, and earth ; 
 we pray that God will be pleased to hasten that 
 kingdom, that we with all others departed in the 
 true faith of his holy name, may have this perfect 
 consummation, both of body and soul in his ever- 
 lasting glory. Amen. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
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