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 THE WORKS 
 
 JOHN HOWE, M.A
 
 THE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN HOWE, M.A, 
 
 SOMETIME FELLOW OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXON. 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 A TREATISE OF DELIGHTING IN GOD; 
 THE REDEEMER'S TEARS WEPT OVER LOST SOULS; 
 
 AND 
 
 THE REDEEMER'S DOMINION OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 LONDON: 
 THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 56, PATEKNOSTEE EOW ; 65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD; 
 AND 164, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1862.
 
 
 A TREATISE 
 
 DELIGHTING IN GOD. 
 
 IN TWO PARTS. 

 
 TO MY MUCH VALUED FEIENDS, 
 
 THE MAGISTRATES AND OTHER INHABITANTS 
 
 OF GREAT TOURINGTON IN DEVON, 
 ■WITH THE SEVERAL WORTHY AND RELIGIOUS PERSONS AND 
 FAMILIES OF MY ACQUAINTANCE IN THOSE PARTS. 
 
 It is likely that the title of the following treatise v^^ill 25iit many of 
 you, my dearly esteemed friends, in mind that sundry sermons 
 were preached twenty years ago amoug you upon this subject. I 
 had it, indeed, in design to have given you some abstract of those 
 sermons ; but searching among my papei's, could fine none but so 
 imperfect and broken memorials as would be of little use for that 
 purpose. And yet being desirous to present you with somewhat 
 that might both be a testimony of my affection and an advantage 
 to you, and knowing this subject was grateful to many, and affords 
 what may be useful to all of you, I have for your sakes applied 
 myself to a reconsideration of it. Few passages or expressions 
 probably will occur to you, that you heard before; yet you will 
 find tlie substance of the doctrine the same ; as from so jilain 
 a text it could not well but be, whosoever should have had the 
 handling of it. The first fart is even altogether new, except 
 the introductive suppositions in the beginning. Nor do I re- 
 member I then had more than one discourse to you on that subject, 
 befoi'e the practical application of it. The other imrt contains 
 many things formei'ly delivered to you, though perhajis not in 
 the same order, much less in the same words ; whereto the short 
 notes in my hands could no way enable me.
 
 Vlll THE DEDICATION. 
 
 The matter here treated of is the very snhstance of religion, — 
 the first and the last, the root and the flower, both the basis and 
 foundation, and the top and perfection of practical godliness, and 
 which runs through the whole of it. Nor knew I, therefore, 
 what to pi'esent you with, that could have iix it a fitter mixture 
 and temperament of what might be both useful and pleasant 
 to you. 
 
 As there is therefore no need, so nor do I desire you should 
 receive the matter here discoursed of merely for my sake ; there 
 being so great reason it should be chiefly acceptable on higher 
 accounts. I do very well understand your affection to me ; and 
 could easily be copious in the expression of mine to you, if I would 
 open that sluice ; but I do herein resolvedly and upon consideration 
 restrain myself, apprehending that in some cases (and I may sup- 
 pose it possible that in our case) a gradual mortification ought to 
 be endeavoured of such affection as is often between those so 
 related as you and I have been : which is no harder supposition, 
 than that such affection may be excessive and swell beyond due 
 bounds. So it would, if it should be accompanied with impatient 
 resentments towards any providence or instrument whereby it finds 
 itself crossed, or from whence it meets with what is ungrateful to 
 it ; if it prove turbulent and disquieting to them in whom it is, 
 or any others; or if it occasion a looking back with distempered 
 lingerings after such former things as could be but means to our 
 great end, with the neglect of looking forward to that end itself 
 still before us. Far be it from me to aim at the keeping any- 
 thing alive that ought to die; that is, in that degree wherein it 
 ought so to do. 
 
 But our mutual affection will be both innocent and useful, if it 
 be suitable to mortal objects, and to persons not expecting the con- 
 verse we have had together any more in this world ; if also in the 
 meantime it preserve to us a mutual interest in each other's 
 prayers ; if it dispose us to such acts and apprehensions of kind- 
 ness as our jiresent circumstances can admit ; and if, particularly, 
 as it hath moved me to undertake, it may contribute anything to 
 your acceptance of this small labour which is now designed for you. 
 The subject and substance whex-eof, as they are none of mine, so 
 they ought to be welcome to you for their own sake, and His who 
 is the prime Author, though they were recommended to you by the
 
 THE DEDICATION. IX 
 
 hand of a stranger, or one whose face you never saw. They aim at 
 the pi-omoting of the same end wliich the course of my poor hxbours 
 among you did (as He tliat knoweth all things knoweth), — the 
 se7'ious practice of the great things of religion, which are known 
 and least liable to question ; without designing to engage you to or 
 against any party of them that differ about circumstantial matters. 
 They tend to let you see that formality in any way of religion, 
 unaccompanied with life, will not serve your turn, as it will no 
 man's, — than which there is nothing more empty, sapless, and void 
 both of profit and delight. 
 
 I have reflected and considei-ed with some satisfaction that this 
 hath been my way and the temper of my mind among you. Great 
 reason I have to repent that I have not with greater earnestness 
 pressed upon you the known and important things wherein serious 
 Christians do generally agree ; but I repent not I have been so 
 little engaged in the hot contests of our age about the things 
 wherein they differ. For, as I pretend to little light in these things 
 (whence I covild not have nmch confidence to fortify me unto such 
 an undertaking), so I must profe.ss to have little inclination to 
 contend about matters of that kind. 
 
 Nor yet am I indifferent as to those smaller things that I cannot 
 discern to be in their own nature so. But though I cannot avoid 
 to think that course right which I have delibero.tely chosen therein, 
 I do yet esteem that but a small thing upon which to ground 
 an opinion of my excelling them that think otherwise, as if I knew 
 more than they. For I have often recounted thus seriously with 
 myself, ' that of every diffei'ing party, in those circumstantial 
 matters, I do j^articularly know some persons by whom I find 
 myself much excelled in far greater things than is the matter of 
 that difference. I cannot, it is true, thereupon say and think 
 everything that they do ; which is impossible, since they differ fx'om 
 one another as w-ell as me : and I understand well, there are other 
 measures of truth than this or that excellent person's opinion. But 
 I thereupon reckon I have little reason to be conceited of any 
 advantage I have of such in point of knowledge, (even as little as 
 he should have, that can sing, or play well on a lute, of him that 
 knows how to command armies or govern a kingdom,) and can with 
 the less confidence differ from them or contend with them ; being 
 thereby — thoiigh I cannot find that I err in these matters — con-
 
 X TlIK DEDICATION, 
 
 strained to liave sovie stcspicion lest I do, and to admit it possible 
 enough that some of them who differ from me, having much more 
 light in greater matters, may have so in these also. Besides that, 
 I most seriously think, humility, charity, and patience would more 
 contribute to the composing of these lesser differences, or to the good 
 estate of the Christian interest under them, than the most fervent 
 disputes and contestations. I have, upon such considerations, little 
 concerned myself in contending for one way or another while I was 
 among you ; or in censuring such as have differed from me in such 
 notions and practices as might consist with our common great end, 
 or as imported not manifest hostility thereto : contenting myself to 
 follow the course that to my preponderating judgment seemed best, 
 without stepping out of my way to justle othei's. 
 
 But I cannot be so patient of their practical disagreement, (not 
 only with all serious Christians, but even their own judgments and 
 consciences also,) who have no delight in God, and ivho take no 
 pleasure in the very substance of religion. 
 
 I have been grieved to observe that the case hath too ajiparently 
 seemed so with some among you ; some who have been openly pro- 
 fane and dissolute, and expressed more contempt of- God (which 
 you know was often insisted on the one part of the day, from 
 Ps. X. 13, when 1 had this subject in hand the other,) than delight 
 in him. I know not how the case may be altered with such since 
 I left you, or what blessing may have followed the endeavours of 
 any other hand. Death, I am sure, will be making alterations, as 
 I have heard it hath. If these lines may be beforehand with it, 
 may they be effectually monitory to any such that yet survive, that 
 however this or t\vA.t external '■'■forvi of godliness''' may consist with 
 your everlasting well-being, real tmgodliness and the denial of " the 
 power" never can ; which power stands in nothing more than in 
 love to God, or delight in him. Therefore seriously bethink your- 
 selves. Do you delight in God or no 1, If you do, methinks you 
 should have some perception of it. Sui'ely if you delight in a 
 friend, or some other outward comfort, you can perceive it. But 
 if you do not, what do you think alienation from the life of God 
 will come to at last 1 It is time for you to pray and cry, and 
 strive eaniestly for a renewed heart. And if any of you do in 
 some degree find this, yet many degrees are still lacking. You 
 cannot delight in God but upon that ap])rehension as will give you
 
 THE DEDICATION. XI 
 
 to see yoii do it not enough : therefore ' reach forth to what is still 
 before.' I bow my knees for you all, that a living, delightful 
 religion may flourish in your hearts and families, in the stead of 
 those dry, withered things, — worldliness, formality, and strife about 
 trifles ; which will make Torrington a Hephzibah, a place to be 
 delighted in ; your country a pleasant region ; and (if he may but 
 hear of it) add not a little to the satisfaction and delight of 
 
 Your affectionate servant in Christ, 
 
 Who most seriously desires your true prosperity, 
 
 JOHN HOWE. 
 
 AxTKisr, Sept. 1, 1674.
 
 A TEEATISE OF DELIGHTING U GOD 
 
 FROM PSALM xxxvii. 4. 
 
 ■DEUGHT THri'SELF ALSO IX THE LORD, AKD HE SHALL GrVE THEE THE 
 DESIRES OF THLN'E HEART." 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 SHOWING THE IMPORT OF THIS PRECEPT. . 
 
 This Psalm, by the contents of it, seems to suppose an afflicted 
 state of good men, by the oppression of such, as were in that 
 and other respects very wicked ; the prosperity of these wicked 
 ones in their oppressive course ; an aptness in the oppressed 
 to impatience under the evils the}'' suffered ; a disposition to 
 behold, with a lingering and an envious eye, the good things 
 which their oppressors enjoyed, and themselves wanted. Hence 
 the composure of it is such as might be most agreeable to these 
 suppositions, and serviceable to the fortifying of the righteous 
 against the sin and trouble which such a state of tilings might 
 prove the occasion of vmto them. 
 
 This verse hath a more direct aspect on the last of these 
 cases, or on this last-mentioned thing — considerable in the 
 case of upright men suffering under the oppression of violent 
 and prosperous wickedness, — namely, that they might here- 
 upon be apt both to covet and envy the worldly delights of 
 their enemies ; to be desirous of their dainties, and grudge 
 they should be theirs, who, they knew, deserved worse things ; 
 and while themselves also felt the pressm-e of worse, which at 
 their hands they deserved not. 
 
 VOL. II. B
 
 2 A TREATISE [pAHT I. 
 
 What is here offered to tlie consideration of the sufferers 
 tends aptly to allay their discontent, to check and repress 
 their inordinate desire towards inferior things, or to divert 
 and turn it another way ; as in case of bleeding to excess and 
 danger, the way is to open a vein, and stop the course of 
 that profusion by altering it. As if it had been said, ' You 
 have no such cause to look with displeasure or immoderate 
 desire upon their delicacies — you may have better ; better 
 belong to you, and invite you ; the Lord himself is your 
 portion. It becomes both your state and spiiit to apply your- 
 selves to a holy delight in him ; to let your souls loose, and 
 set them at liberty to satiate themselves, and feed unto fulness 
 upon those undefiled and satisfying pleasures unto which you 
 have a right, and in which you will find the loss and want of 
 their meaner enjoyments abmidantly made up unto you. You 
 have your natural desires and cravings, as well as other men, 
 and those may be too apt to exceed their just bounds and 
 measures ; but if you take this course, they will soon become 
 sober and nioderate, such as will be satisfied with what is 
 competent, with an indifferent allowance of the good things 
 of this earth. And towards the Lord, let them be as vast and 
 large as can be supposed, they can never be larger than the 
 rule wiU allow, nor than the object will satisfy : the direction 
 and obligation of the former being indeed proportioned to the 
 immense and boundless fulness of the latter.' 
 
 We need not operosely inquire what sort of persons this 
 direction is given unto. It is plain that it is the common 
 duty of all to dehght in God. But it cannot be the imme- 
 diate duty of all. Men that know not God, and are enemies 
 to him, have somewhat else to do first. They to whom the 
 precept is directly meant are the regenerate (" the righteous" 
 and " the upright," as the psalm itself doth plainly design 
 them), or his o^vn people. The most profitable way of con- 
 sidering these words will be chiefly to insist on the direction 
 given in the former part of the verse : and then to show, 
 towards the close, how the event promised in the latter part, 
 will, not only by virtue of the promise, but even naturally,
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD, 3 
 
 follow thereupon. Tlie direction in the former part gives us 
 a plain signification of God's good pleasure, that he himself 
 would be the great object of his people's delight ; or, it is his 
 \\'ill that they princij)ally delight themselves in him. 
 
 Our discoui'se upon this subject will fall naturally into two 
 parts ; the former whereof will concern the import, and the 
 latter the j)^'(^cticc, of the enjoined delighting in God ; under 
 which latter, what will be said of the latter part of the verse 
 will fitly fall in. 
 
 That we may more distinctly open the import and meaning 
 of delighting in God, it will be necessary that we treat, — 
 I. Of the delectable object; II. Of the delight to be taken 
 therein. 
 
 I. As to the former. The general object of delight is some 
 good, or somewhat so conceived of, with the addition of being 
 apprehended some way present. Here it is the chief and best 
 good, the highest and most perfect excellency ; wdiich good- 
 ness and excellency, considered as residing in God, gives us a 
 twofold notion or view of the object whereupon this delight 
 may have its exercise, absolute and relative. 
 
 First. God may be looked upon in an absolute consideration, 
 as he is in himself the best and most excellent Being ; w^herein 
 we behold the conciu-rence of all perfections, the most amiable 
 and beauteous excellencies, to an intellectual eye, that it can 
 have any apprehension of. 
 
 Secondly. In a relative consideration; namely, as his good- 
 ness and excellency are considered, not merely as they are 
 in himself, but also as having some way an aspect on his 
 creatures. For considering him as in himself the most excel- 
 lent Being, if here we give our thoughts liberty of exercising 
 themselves, we shall soon find that hereupon he must be con- 
 sidered also as the first Being, the original and author of all 
 other beings ; otherwise he were not the most excellent. 
 From whence we shall see relation doth arise between him 
 and his creatures that have their being from him. And 
 besides the general relations which he beareth to them 
 all, as the common maker, sustainer, and disposer of them ; 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 observing that there are some which, by their reasonable 
 natures, are capable of government by him (in the proper 
 sense, namely, by a law), and of blessedness in him ; to these 
 we consider him as standing in a twofold reference, in both 
 which we are to eye, and act towards, him, namely, as a Lord 
 to be obeyed and a Portion to be enjoyed, and have most 
 delectable excellencies to take notice of in him — that require 
 we should suitably comport with them — answerable peculiarly 
 to each of these considerations : in respect whereof we are to 
 look upon him, — 
 
 1. As the onost excellent Lord; most delectably excellent 
 (we take not here that title so strictly as to intend by it mere 
 propriety or dominion, but as to ordinary apprehension it is 
 more commonly understood to signify also governing jjower 
 or author itg founded in the other), whom we cannot but 
 esteem worthy of all possible honour and glory ; that every 
 knee bow to him, and every tongue confess to him; that 
 imiversal homage, subjection, and adoration, be given him. 
 for ever. 
 
 2. As the most excellent Portion, in whom all things that 
 may render him such do concur and meet together; all 
 desirable and imaginable riches and fulness, together with 
 large bounty, flowing goodness, every way correspondent to 
 the wants and cravings of indigent and thirsty souls. The 
 former notion of him intimates to us oui' obligation of duty 
 to him : the latter prompts to an expectation of benefit from 
 him. 
 
 But now, because by the apostasy we have injui-ed his 
 right in us, as our Lord ; forfeited our own right in him, as 
 our portion ; and lost our immediate capacity or disposition, 
 both to serve and enjoy him ; this great breach between him 
 and us was not other^vise to be made up but by a mediator. 
 Unto which ofl&ce and undertaking his own Son, incarnate, 
 "the Word made flesh" (being onlj fit), was designed. By 
 him, dealing between both the distanced parties, satisfying 
 the justice of God, overcoming the enmity of man, the dif- 
 ference, so far as the efiicacy of his mediation doth extend, is
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 5 
 
 composed.. And to the reconciled, God becomes again their 
 acknowledged both Lord and portion. His right is vindi- 
 cated, theirs is restored ; and both are established upon new 
 grounds, added to those upon which they stood before ; and so 
 as that now our actings towards God, and expectations from 
 him, must be through the Mediator. Whereupon this object 
 of our delight, considered relatively unto us, is entirely God 
 
 in Christ: "Being reconciled, we joy in God, through 
 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the 
 atonement." ^ 
 
 In these several ways that have been thus briefly men- 
 tioned, may God come under our consideration. Nor are 
 they, any of them, unapplicable or impertinent to our purpose, 
 when we would design him the object of our delight. Yea, 
 and surely God considered each of these ways ought to be 
 looked on by us as a most delectable object ! 
 
 For it is pleasant to contemplate him, even most absolutely 
 considered, as the most excellent Being, when we behold his 
 glorious excellencies in themselves; that is, not with the 
 denial, but without the actual present consideration of any 
 advantage that may redound to us from them ; as we are apt 
 to find ourselves pleased and gratified in viewing an excellent 
 object (suppose a stately edifice, or beautiful flower), from 
 which we expect no other benefit. 
 
 Again ; if we consider him relatively, in the former capa- 
 city of a Lord, it is grateful to behold him decked with 
 majesty, arrayed in glory, clothed with righteousness, armed 
 with power, shining in holiness, and guiding himself T^dth 
 wisdom and counsel in all his administrations. Yea, and it 
 is delightful to obey him ; while we are most fully satisfied 
 of his unexceptionable right to command us. For there is 
 a great pleasure naturally arising to a well-tempered spirit 
 from the apprehended congruity or fitness of things, as that 
 he slioidd command, and that we should obey ; his right and 
 our obligation being so undoubtedly clear and great ; espe- 
 
 ' Eoin. V. 10, 11.
 
 6 A TREATISE [pakt i. 
 
 cially when we also consider wliat lie commands, and find it 
 is no Lard bondage ; that they are not grievous commands 
 which he requires we be subject to, but such in the keeping 
 whereof " there is great reward ; " and that his ways are all 
 " pleasantness and peace." 
 
 And being considered as a Portion, the matter is plain, 
 that so rich and aboimding fulness, where also there is so 
 communicative an inclination, cannot but recommend him a 
 most satisfying object of delight. 
 
 And thus we are more principally to consider him; namely, 
 rather relativehj than absolutely ; and that relatedness (which 
 the state of the case requires) as now anew settled in Christ. 
 And so, though it be very delightful to look upon him as one 
 that may, and is ready to, become related to us (as he is to 
 any that will consent and agree with him upon the Me- 
 diator's terms), yet it adds unspeakably to the pleasantness 
 of this object, when we can reflect upon such characters in 
 ourselves as from whence we may regularly conclude that he 
 is actually thus related unto us ; — that is, that we have 
 consented ; that our relation to him immediately arises from 
 the covenant of life and peace : that he hath entered into 
 covenant with us, and so we are become his. 
 
 It is pleasant thus to behold and serve him as our Lord. 
 How great is the emphasis of these words, "I count all 
 things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
 Jesus my Lord ! " To consider not only how well he deserves 
 the acknowledgments and subjection of all, but also to find 
 ourselves under the chosen and gentle bonds of perpetual 
 service and devotedness to him, is certainly matter of very 
 high delight and pleasure. 
 
 But how infinitely delightful is it to view and enjoy him 
 as our Portion ! And this seems very pertinent to the design 
 of this scripture ; which, aiming to recal and draw in the 
 hearts of godly persons from too earnest and from envious 
 lingerings after the enjoyments of worldly men (their enemies 
 and oppressors), propounds what may be an over-balance to 
 the imagined felicity of their state, and wherein they should
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 7 
 
 more than equal tlieni in point of enjoyment. And slionld 
 we single out this as the object to be considered — God as a 
 portion, — that it might be more distinctly represented, we 
 should have two things to take notice of that would render it 
 most delectable, and such as wherein holy hearts may acqui- 
 esce, and rest with fullest satisfaction — the sufficiency and 
 the communicableness of it. 
 
 (1.) The sufficiency of it ; which cannot but be every 
 way complete and full, it being the all-comprehensive 
 good which is this Portion — God all-sufficient ; — the most 
 eminent and known attributes of his being, wherein by 
 any issues of them they can be communicated, having an 
 ingrediency and concurrence to the happiness of his people 
 therein. 
 
 (2.) The communicahJeness thereof; which proceeds from 
 his bounty more peculiarly, and his gracious inclination to do 
 good, and make his boundless fidness overflow to the re- 
 plenishing of thirsty, longing soids, whom first it had allured 
 and caused so to long. But though the scope and order of 
 the discourse in this psalm did not directly seem to import 
 more than a design of calling off the persons here spoken to 
 from one sort of enjojnnent to another, from a meaner and 
 more empty to a better ; yet it is to be considered that true 
 and the best enjoyment cannot be unaccompanied with duty, 
 and that God is not otherwise to be enjoyed than as he is 
 obeyed. Nor indeed are the notions of him, as a Lord to be 
 obeyed and as a good to be enjoj^ed, entirely distinct ; but 
 are interwoven and do run into one another. We obey him 
 even in enjoying him ; it being part of our enjoined duty to 
 set our hearts upon him as our best and highest good. And 
 we enjoy him in obeying him ; the advantage and benefit of 
 his government being a real and most momentous part of 
 that good which we enjoy from him, and in him. He is our 
 benefactor even as he is our ruler ; and is therein our ruler, as 
 he proposes to us benefits which he thereby binds us to 
 accept : for even his invitations and offers are also laws and 
 formal bonds of duty upon us. Yea, and even the act of
 
 8 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 deliglit itself pitched upon him is an act of homage, as there 
 will be occasion hereafter to take notice. 
 
 Wherefore it will be fit to steer a larger course, than 
 merely to consider him as a good commensurate to our 
 partial appetites ; which are apt to prescribe to, and limit our 
 apprehensions to this or that particular sort of good, and 
 tincture them with such a notion of delight, as which, if it 
 be not false and grossly carnal, may yet be much too narrow 
 and unproportionable to the universal, all-comprehending 
 good. And though we shall not here go beyond the com- 
 pass of delectable good ; yet as there is no good, truly so 
 called, which is not in or from the first goodness ; so indeed, 
 nor is there any capable of being gathered up into that sum 
 which is not delectable. 
 
 Nor, therefore, can the usual distribution of goodness into 
 2Jrqfi table, lion est, and pleasant, bear a strict test. Only the 
 false relishes of vitiated appetite, in this corrupted state of 
 man, have given ground for it. Otherwise, to a mind and 
 will that is not distempered, the account would be much 
 otherwise. To a prudent mind, profitable good would be 
 pleasant, even as it is profitable. To a just and generous 
 mind, honest, comely good Avould be pleasant, even as it is 
 honest. Nor woidd there need another distinction, but into 
 the goodness of the end, which is pleasant for itself; and the 
 goodness of the means, which is pleasant as it is honestly and 
 decently profitable (and otherwise it cannot be) thereunto. 
 
 That we may here, therefore, with the more advantage, 
 state the delectable good we are now to consider, it will be 
 requisite to premise two things : — 
 
 Fii'st. That all delightful enjoyment of God supposes some 
 commnnication from him. Nothing can delight us, or be 
 enjoyed by us, whereof we do not, some way, or by some 
 faculty or other, partake somewhat ; either by our external 
 sense, sensitive appetite, fancy, memory, mind, will ; and 
 either in a higher or lower degree, for a longer or a shorter 
 time ; according as the delight is, for kind, degree, or 
 continuance, which is taken therein. This is plain in itself.
 
 PAiiT I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 9 
 
 And in the present case, tlierefore, of deliglitiug in God or 
 enjoying him, some commnuication or participation there 
 must be, (Jne way or other, according as the enjoyment of 
 him is. And as the case with man now is, it is necessary he 
 do with clearest and the most penetrative light and power 
 come in upon his mind and heart, scatter darlaiess, remove 
 prejudice, abolish former relishes, transfuse his own sweet 
 savour through the soul. Proportionably, therefore, to what 
 is to be done, he communicates himself, as the event con- 
 stantly shows, with all them that are ever brought to any 
 real enjoyment of him. For we plainly see, that the same 
 divine communication which, being received, doth delight 
 and satisfy, doth also procure that it may be desired and 
 received ; makes its own way, attempers and frames the soul 
 to itself; and gives it the sweet relish and savour thereof, 
 wherein God is actuall}^ enjoyed. 
 
 Secondly. That however God himself is truly said to be 
 enjoyed or delighted in by holy souls, yet this communication 
 is also a sort of mediate object of this delight or enjoyment. 
 These things being forelaid, it is now needful to inquire 
 somewhat more distinctly what that communication or com- 
 municable good is, which is the immediate matter of proper, 
 spiritual enjoyment unto holy men in this world : because 
 many have that phrase of speech, " enjojdng God," often in 
 their mouths, that well understand not what they mean by 
 it ; yea, even divers of them that have real enjoyment of 
 him; unto whom, therefore, though they possibly taste the 
 thing which they cannot express, or form distinct conceptions 
 of, it might be somewhat their advantage to have it more 
 cleared up to their apprehension, what it is that they im- 
 mediately enjoy when they are said to enjoy God, or by what 
 He is to be enjoyed. 
 
 It is not a mere fancy (as too many profanely think, and 
 are too apt to speak), that is the thing to be enjoyed. 
 There have been those, who, comparing their own experience 
 with God's promises and precepts (the rule by which he 
 imparts, and according whereto men are to expect, his 
 
 b3
 
 10 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 gracious influence), were capable of avowing it, rationally, 
 to be some very substantial thing they have bad the enjoy- 
 ment of. The sobriety of their spirits, the regularity of their 
 workings, their gracious composure, the meekness, humility, 
 denial of self, the sensible refreshing, the mighty strength 
 and vigour, which have accompanied such enjoyments, suf- 
 ficiently proving to them that they did not hug an empty 
 cloud, or embrace a shadow, under the name of enjoying God. 
 Such expressions as we find in the Book of Psalms (the 16th, 
 and many other), with sundry parts of Scripture besides, 
 leave us not without instance, that imjDort nothing like flashy 
 and flaunting bombast, no appearance of afiectation, no 
 pompous show of vainglory, no semblance of swelling words 
 of vanity ; but which discover a most equal, orderly, well- 
 poised temper of mind, in conjunction with the highest 
 delight and well-pleasedness in God. That rich and un- 
 imitable fulness of living sense could not but be from the 
 apprehension of a real someichat, and that, of a most excellent 
 nature and kind, whatsoever be the notion that may be most 
 fitly put upon it. 
 
 Nor yet is it the mere essence of God which men can be 
 said to enjoy ; for that is not communicated, nor communi- 
 cable. Enjoyment supposes possession; but it would be a 
 strange language to say we possess the essence of God other- 
 wise than relatively ; which is not enough unto actual enjoy- 
 ment. His mere essential presence is not enough. That 
 renders him not enjoyed by any ; for that is equally with all 
 and everywhere ; but all cannot be said to enjoy him. 
 
 As therefore it is a real, so there must be some special 
 communication, by which, being received, we are truly said 
 to enjoy him. A special good it must be, not such as is 
 common to all. For there is a commimication from him that 
 is of that extent, inasmuch as all Kve and move and have 
 their beings in him, and the whole earth is full of his good- 
 ness. This is a good peculiar to them that are born of God ; 
 and suited to the apprehension and sense of that divine 
 creature which is so born.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD, 11 
 
 What this good is, how fully sufficient it is, and how or 
 which way it is communicable, may be the better understood 
 when we have considered what are the wants and cravings of 
 this creature, or of them in whom it is formed and wrought. 
 For when we have pitched upon the very thing itself which 
 they most desire (and which they can tell is if, when they 
 hear it named, though their thoughts are not so well formed 
 about it as to give it the right name before), we shall then 
 understand it to be both what will be sufficient to satisfy, and 
 what may be comniunicatecl to that purpose. 
 
 But now, before that new birth take place in the spirit of 
 man, it wants, but knows not what ; craves indeterminately, 
 — "Who will show us any good?" not fixing upon any 
 particular one that is sufficient and finite, and labouring at 
 once under an ignorance of the infinite, together with a 
 disaffection thereunto. Its wants and cravings are beyond 
 the measure of all finite good ; for suppose it to have never so 
 large a share, nay, coidd it grasp and engross the whole of 
 it, an misatisfiedness and desire of more would still remain. 
 But that mot^e is somewhat indeterminate, and merely imagi- 
 nary — an infinite nothing — an idol of fancy, — a god of its 
 owTi making. God it must have, but what a one he is it 
 misapprehends; and wherein it rightly apprehends him 
 likes and loves him not, — will by no means choose, desire, or 
 take complacency in hian. So that an unregenerate soul is, 
 while it is such, necessarily doomed to be miserable. It 
 cannot be happy in any inferior good ; and in the supreme, 
 it will not. 
 
 What the real wants and just cravings of a man's spirit 
 therefore are, is not to be understood by considering it in 
 that state. And if the work of the new ci-eature were 
 perfected in it, it would want and crave no more ; but were 
 satisfied fully, and at perfect rest. Nor is that state so known 
 to us as yet. 
 
 Therefore, they are best to be discerned in the state wherein 
 that work is begun and hitherto unfinished; in which it 
 therefore desires rightly, and still continues to desire; — a
 
 12 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 state of intermingled motion and rest ; wherein deKght is 
 imperfect, and alloyed by the continual mixture of yet un- 
 satisfied desire. And yet it may be collected what it is that 
 woidd be sufficient to satisfy ; because their desire is still 
 determined to " one thing," ^ is not vagrant, wanders not after 
 things of another kind, but is intent only upon more of the 
 same. 
 
 JN^ow let it be inquired of such a one what that thing is. "We 
 are generally told there, " One thing have I desired of the 
 Lord, that will I seek after ; that I may dwell in the house of 
 the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the 
 Lord," etc. And it may be many would more shortly tell 
 you, it is God they desire ; whence it would only be concluded, 
 it is God they aim to enjoy or delight in. But because this 
 brings us but where we were, let it be further inquired, 
 What, then, is your business with God, or what would you 
 have of him ? It is not, sure, to he God that you expect or 
 seek, or to enjoy God in that sense wherein he possesses and 
 enjoys himself ! No, not by any means. It is, then, some 
 communication from God, diverse from what all men have 
 (for that they do not find apt to satisfy), which they desire 
 and crave. And what is that ? It is somewhat, as possible 
 to be apprehended, and as distinguishable both from his 
 incommunicable being, and his so generally communicated 
 bounty towards all. As if the inquiry were. What it is that 
 I desire really to enjoy when I desire to enjoy a friend? 
 (namely, as the notion of a friend or friendship doth most 
 properly import.) That is, neither to desire the impossible 
 thing, of possessing his being as my own ; nor the unsatisfying 
 thing, the mere partaking some part of his external goods 
 and wealth, whereof it may be he daily imparts somewhat to 
 every beggar at his door: but it is to have his intimate 
 acquaintance, his counsel and advice, the advantage of im- 
 proving myself by his converse, and of conforming myself to 
 his example in his imitable perfections, the assurances of his 
 
 ^ Ps. xxvii. 4.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTIXG IN GOD. 13 
 
 faithful, constant love and friendship, in reference to aU future 
 emergencies. A friend is reaUy to be enjoyed in such things 
 as these. 
 
 And in such-like is God to be enjoyed also. But with this 
 difference, that God's communications are more immediate, 
 more constant, more powerful and efficacious, more delightful 
 iniinitely, and satisfying, in respect both of the good com- 
 municated, and the way of conmiimication. 
 
 In short, then, the wants and desires of a renewed soul, the 
 supply and satisfaction whereof it seeks from God, would be 
 summed up in these things : That it may know him more fully, 
 or have clearer apprehensions of him ; — that it may become 
 like to him, and framed more perfectly after his own holy 
 image ; — that it may be ascertained of his love and good-ivilt, 
 that he hath those favourable inclinations towards it which 
 shall certainly infer his doing all that for it which its real 
 necessities (to be estimated by his infinite wisdom) can call 
 for. These are the things in kind which would satisfy it. 
 And answerably to these we may conceive the communicable 
 good which is the immediate object of their enjoyment ; so 
 that, as God himself is the object which is enjoyed, this is 
 the object by which, or in respect whereof, he is enjoyable. 
 
 Therefore the di"^^ne communication, or that which is com- 
 mimicated from God to regenerate souls, wherein they are to 
 delight themselves, contains in it, — 
 
 First. An imcardJy enlightening revelation of himself to 
 them, that they may know him more distinctly. This is a 
 part of the " one thing," — would be so highly satisfying and 
 delightful: "Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us.''^ 
 When their desires are towards God only, it is with this 
 aim, in the first place, that they may know him ; which is 
 supposed when that is given as an encouragement to the 
 pui'suit of this knowledge, we " shall know, if we follow on 
 to know the Lord,"^ as if it had been said, ' This is a thing 
 not doubted of, but taken for granted, that we would fain 
 
 1 John xiv. 8. ^ Hos. \\. 3.
 
 14 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 know the Lord; "we shall, if we follow on,'" etc. This is a 
 dictate of pure and primitive nature, to covet the knowledge 
 of our own original, — him from whom we and all things 
 sprang. Men are herein become most unnaturally wicked, 
 when they "like not to retain God in their knowledge."^ 
 
 The new and divine nature once imparted (that is, primi- 
 tive nature renewed and restored to itself), revives the desire 
 of this knowledge, and in compliance with the present 
 exigency of the case hath this inclination ingrafted into it, 
 to know him as he is now only to be comfortably known, 
 — namely, in the Mediator. " I determined not to know any 
 thing among you," saith St. Paid, "save Jesus Christ," etc. ;^ 
 that is, *to glory in, to make show of, to discover myself 
 taken with no other knowledge than this, or with none so 
 much as this.' To which purpose he elsewhere professes to 
 " count all things loss for the excellency of this knowledge ; " ^ 
 so vehemently did desire work this way. And proportionably 
 as it is apprehended desirable, must it be esteemed delightful 
 also. Nor are we here to think that this desired knowledge 
 was intended finally to terminate in the IMediator, for that 
 the very notion of mediator resists. The name — Christ — is 
 the proper name of that office ; and the desire of knowing 
 him under that name imports a desire to know him in his 
 office, namely as one that is to lead us to God, and restore our 
 acquaintance with him, which was not to be recovered upon 
 other terms. So that it is idtimately the knowledge of God 
 that is the so much desired thing, and of Christ as the way, 
 and our conductor to God ; that is, the knowledge of God not 
 ahsolutcly considered alone (though he is, even so, a very 
 delectable object, as hath been said) ; but as he is related to 
 us, and from whom we have great expectations, our all being 
 comprehended in him. It cannot but be very delightful 
 (answerably to a certain sort of delectation of which we shall 
 have occasion to speak in its proper place) to have him before 
 our eyes represented and revealed to us as the all-compre- 
 
 1 Rom. i. 28. ^ i Cor. ii. 2. 3 Phil. iii. 8.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 15 
 
 hending good, and that (in the way and method whereinto 
 things are now cast) ni(nj, at least, become our portion. He 
 is some way to be enjoyed even in this view. It is a thing 
 apt to infer complacency and delight thus to look upon him. 
 They who place felicity in contemplation, especially in the 
 contemplation of God, are not beside the mark, if they do 
 not circumscribe and confine it there, so as to make it stand 
 in mere contemplation, or in an idle and vainly curious view 
 of so glorious an object, without any further concern about 
 it. They will then be found to speak very agreeably to the 
 language of Holy Scripture, which so frequently expresses 
 the blessedness of the other state, by seeing Ood. 
 
 And if the act of vision be delicious, the representation of 
 the object must have proportionable matter of delight in it. 
 It camiot but have so, if we consider the nature of this repre- 
 sentation ; which, answerably to the sensible want and desire 
 of such as shall be delighted therewith, must have somewhat 
 more in it than the common appearances of God which offer 
 themselves equally to the view of all men ; though it is their 
 own as common faidt, that they are destitute of the more 
 grateful and necessarj'- additions. That it hath more in it, 
 is evident from God's own way of speaking of it. For we 
 find that his revealing himself in this delectable way, — 
 
 1. Is attributed to the Spirit, and as a work to be done by 
 it ivhcn it shall be given (supposing it therefore yet not given, 
 and that all have it not, yea, that such have it not in such a 
 measure as they may have it, unto this purpose, who yet truly 
 have it in some measure already, even as a thing peculiar to 
 them from the unbelieving world) : for it is prayed for to 
 such as concerning whom it is said, that "after they believed" 
 (not before) " they were sealed by the Spirit of promise," that 
 "the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glorj^" 
 would give it them ; and it is mentioned by a name and title 
 proper to the end and purpose for which it is desired to be 
 given them, namely, as " the Spirit of wisdom and revelation," 
 that end and purpose being immediately expressed, — " in " (or, 
 as that particle is some time used, "for'^) "the knowledge of
 
 16 A TREATISE [part I, 
 
 Mm,"^ "the eyes of tlieir understanding being enlightened" 
 by it (which are supposed blind before for the same purpose). 
 By which prayer it is supposed a communicable thing ; yea, 
 and that these had some way a right to the communication oi 
 it ; or that it was a thing proper to their state, fit to be prayed 
 for, as some way belonging to them, they being in a more 
 immediate capacity of such revelation than others. But how 
 incongruous had it been with such solemnity of addi^ess to 
 make request on their behalf for that which they ah'eady 
 sufficiently had, as a thing common to all men ! 
 
 2. It is spoken of as a reward of their former love, loyalty, 
 and obedience : " He that hath my commandments, and keepeth 
 them, he it is that loveth me ; and he that loveth me shall be 
 loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest 
 myself to him." ^ Therefore is such manifestation no more to 
 be accounted common than the love of Christ is, and keeping 
 his commandments. It is spoken of as given discriminatingly, 
 and the grace of God admired upon that account. In the 
 next words, " Judas saith unto him, not Iscariot " (it being 
 well understood how little covetous he was of, or qualified for, 
 such manifestations), " Lord, how is it that thou wilt manifest 
 thyself unto us, and not unto the world ?"^ 
 
 What it hath more than common light, external or in- 
 ternal, answerable to the deeply resented wants and the heart's 
 desires of the regenerate, by which it becomes so highly 
 pleasant and delectable to them, though it is rather to be 
 felt than told (as it is hard to describe the very things we 
 have only immediate sensible perception of), may yet in 
 some degree be understood by such characters as these : — 
 
 (1.) It is much more distinct and clear. They are confused 
 and dark glimmerings which other men have of the blessed 
 Grod, so that " the light which is in them is darkness." * It 
 is true that an unregenerate person may possibly have clearer 
 acquired notions of God, and of the things of God, than those 
 may be which are of tlie same kind only in some who are 
 
 1 Eph. i. 13, 17, IS. 2 John xiv. 21. 
 
 3 Ibid. xiv. 22. " Matt. vi. 23.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 17 
 
 regenerate. So that he may — by the advantages he may 
 have above some of the other in respect of better natural 
 abilities, more liberal education, such circumstances of his 
 condition as may more engage him to study and contem- 
 plation, and befriend him therein — be capable of finding out 
 more, of making fuller discoveries and more evident deduc- 
 tions, and be able to discourse thence more rationally and 
 satisfjTJigly to others, even concerning God, his nature, attri- 
 butes, and works, than some very pious persons, destitute of 
 those advantages, may be able to do. But these, though their 
 candle give a dimmer light than the other's, have the beams 
 of a sun raj'ing in upon them that much outshines the other's 
 candle. And though they know not so many things, nor 
 discern the connections of things so thoroughly, yet as they 
 do know what is most necessary to be known, so what they 
 do know they know better, and with a more excellent sort of 
 knowledge, proportionably as whatsoever is originally and 
 immediately divine cannot but much excel that which is 
 merely human. Those do but blunder in the dark ; these, " in 
 God's own light do see light." ^ And his light puts a brighter 
 hue and aspect upon the same things than any other rej)re- 
 sentation can put upon them. Things are by it represented 
 to the life, which to others carrj'- with them but a faint and 
 languid appearance, and are all covered over with nothing 
 else but dark and dusky shadow, so as that may be "hid 
 from the wise and prudent which is revealed to babes." ^ How 
 bright and glorious things are divine wisdom, love, hoKness, 
 to an enlightened mind ! which is therefore supposed to have 
 a clearer discovery of them. 
 
 But it may be said, ' Is there any thing apprehensible 
 concerning these or any other matters which may not be 
 expressed in. some proposition or other ? And what proposi- 
 tion is there which a regenerate person can assent to, but one 
 who is not regenerate may assent to it also ? what definition, 
 so truly expressive of the natures of these things, can be 
 
 1 Ps. xxxvi. 9. - IMatt. xi. 25. 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 18 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 thouglit of, unto whicli a carnal mind may not give its 
 approbation ? what can be said or conceived so fully and 
 truly tending to describe and clear them up, but an unre- 
 newed understanding may have the representation of the 
 same truth so as to give entertainment to it ? ' It is answered, 
 There are many things to which somewhat may belong not 
 capable of description, and whereof we have yet a most 
 certain perception; as the different relishes of the things 
 we taste, — there are no words that will express those many 
 peculiarities. And as to the present matter : there is some- 
 what belonging to the things of God (those for instance that 
 were mentioned, his wisdom, holiness, etc.), besides the truth 
 of the conceptions that may be formed about them, which is 
 more clearly apprehensible to a divinely enlightened under- 
 standing than to one that is not so. As, — 
 
 First, The beauty of those truths, which it is most delight- 
 ful to behold ; their Kvely sparkling lustre, by which they 
 appear so amiable and lovely to a well-tempered spirit as to 
 transport it with pleasure, and ravish it from itself into union 
 with them. There was somewhat else apprehensible, no 
 doubt, and apprehended by them the inward sentiments of 
 whose soids those words so defectively served to express, 
 " Who is like unto thee, Lord, among the gods ? who is 
 like thee, glorious in holiness ?" etc., besides the mere truth 
 of any propositions that those words can be resolved into. And 
 so in those, " the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and 
 knowledge of God ! " etc. ; and those, " God so loved the world, 
 that he gave his only-begotten Son, that," etc. ; or those, 
 " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that 
 Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I 
 am chief;" or the strains of that rapturous prayer, "That he 
 would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be 
 strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man ; 
 that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, 
 being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to compre- 
 hend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and 
 depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, that
 
 PART I.] or DELIGHTING IN GOD. 19 
 
 passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the 
 fulness of God." 
 
 There is a certain acceptableness in some truths, necessary 
 to their being received in the love thereof, which is pecu- 
 liarly so represented to some, as that their apprehension is 
 clear and vivid beyond that of other men : who, however 
 they have the representation of the same things, yet have not 
 the same representation ; though if they be things of necessary 
 and common concernment, it is (as was said) their own fault 
 that they have it not. And to have yet clearer appre- 
 hensions of this sort, is what the renewed soul doth most 
 earnestly crave and would be proportionably delighted with. 
 
 Secondly, The tendencrj of such truths is much more clearly 
 conceivable to a holy soul than another ; what their scope 
 and aim or aspect is, which way they look, and what they 
 drive at or lead to. I mean not what other truth they are 
 connected with and would aptly tend to infer : but what 
 design God hath upon us in revealing them, and what im- 
 pression they ought to make upon us. To the ignorance or 
 disi'egard of which tendency and design of God's revelation, 
 it is to be attributed that many have long the same notions of 
 things hovering in their minds, without ever reflecting with 
 any displeasure upon the so vastly unsuitable temper of their 
 spirits thereto. They know, it may be, such things con- 
 cerning God, the tendency whereof is to draw their hearts 
 into union with him, to transform them into his likeness, to 
 inflame them with his love. But they still remain, notwith- 
 standing, at the greatest distance, most unsuitable, averse, 
 coldly aflected towards him, yea, utterly opposite and disaf 
 fected; and fall not out with themselves upon this account, 
 have no quarrel nor dislike, take not any distaste at them- 
 selves for it. They take no notice of an incongruity and 
 unfitness in the ill temper of their own spirits ; but seem as 
 if they thought all were very well with them, nothing amiss ; 
 and apprehend not a repugnancy in their habitual disposi- 
 tions towards God to their notions of him. 
 
 For a vicious prejudice blinds their eyes ; their corrupt
 
 20 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 inclinations and rotten hearts send up a malignant, dark, and 
 clammy fog and vapour, and cast so black a cloud upon these 
 bright things that their tendency and design is not per- 
 ceived ; that prejudice not being conceived so much against 
 the abstract notions of the things themselves (whence they are 
 entertained with less reluctancy), but only against the design 
 and scope of them. Against which poisonous cloud God's 
 own glorious revelation directs its beams, dissolves its gross 
 consistency, scatters its darkness, as to them to whom he by 
 special grace affords it. Whereupon observing any remain- 
 ders of the same distempers in their spirits, though it be in a 
 considerable degree abated and lessened, they are ashamed 
 of themselves for it, filled with confusion, yea, and indigna- 
 tion ; do loathe and abhor and could even be ready, if it were 
 possible, to run away from themselves. And what is the 
 reason of this so great difference? Surely somewhat appears 
 discernible to these in God's revelation of himself, which to 
 the other doth not ? They have then before their eyes a 
 more clear prospect of the aim and scope of it ; which, so far 
 as they have it, pleases them, for they like the design weU ; 
 only they are displeased at themselves that they comport no 
 more with it. And as the end therefore aimed at is desirable 
 to them, and would be dehghtful (as will be shown in its 
 proper place), so is it to have that representation immediately 
 offered to the view of their souls, which have so apt and 
 comely an aspect thereon, not merely for its own sake, but 
 for the sake of the end itself. 
 
 Wherefore there is somewhat to be apprehended by God's 
 representation of himself to the minds of this regenerate 
 people, at least moi'e clearly than by other men. "\Yhence 
 the work of regenerating or converting them itself is ex- 
 pressed by " opening their ej^es." ^ For the divine commu- 
 nication makes its own way, and enters at the eye, the soul's 
 seeing facidty, which it doth find (as opening the eyes 
 imports), and not now create ; but finding it vitiated, and as 
 
 ^ Acts xxvi. IS.
 
 I'ART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 21 
 
 to any right seeing of God shut and closed up, it heals, 
 opens, and restores it as it enters. It is expressed by 
 " turning them from darkness to light, and from the power 
 of Satan" (the prince of that darkness, the god of this world, 
 who had blinded their eyes) " unto God." ^^Tiich (because 
 they cannot turn and move towards God blindfold, and that 
 this opening their eyes is in order to their turning to God) 
 implies, that their eyes were so distempered, blinded, and 
 sealed up, chiefly towards him, so that, though they could 
 see other things, him the}^ could not see, but he was invisible 
 to their intellectual as well as theii* bodily eyes. Hence also 
 is that understanding said to be given (that is, as rectified and 
 renewed), by which we know God ; which implies it to be 
 (wherein it is now given) somewhat superadded to the whole 
 natural being and powers of the human soul, as in its present 
 corru]5ted state, — he hath " given us an understanding to 
 know him that it is true."^ And that given rectitude of 
 understanding is by such a communication from God as hath 
 that aptitude and power in it to infer so happy a change. 
 The same rencT^ing work is also said to be a calling of men 
 "out of darkness into his marvellous light ;"^ as if they 
 were brought by it into a new world, wherein they found 
 themselves beset with wonders, and all things were sur- 
 prising to them. To which purpose is that prayer of the 
 psalmist (out of a just consciousness that this work was not 
 perfect in him, but might yet admit great additional degrees), 
 " Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous things 
 out of thy law." ^ He supposed many undiscovered wonders, 
 which more open eyes might yet behold, in that external 
 revelation of God's mind which was then afforded (and which 
 was wont in those days to go mider the name of his law, 
 though it contained histories, prophecies, and promises as 
 well as precepts) : although he was no stranger to those 
 records, nor little insighted into them, he yet apprehended 
 a need of more light and better eyes ; which he therefore 
 
 I IJohn V. 20. 2 1 Pet. ii. 9. 3 pg. cxix. 18.
 
 22 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 desires. Not that God would cause a new revelation to be 
 written (tliough that he vouchsafed to do, and partly by 
 himself), but that he might learn more out of that abeady 
 extant; and that the wonderful things contained in it might 
 be made more clear to him. Nor can we suppose him, 
 herein, to desire to be gratified and deKghted by the com- 
 munication of an incommunicable thing. 
 
 (2.) It is more poicerfaUy assuring, and such as is apt to beget 
 a more certain operative belief of the things revealed ; that is, 
 being added to the means of faith men may be supposed to 
 have had before, it adds much to their assurance of the same 
 things 80 as to make it efficacious upon their spirits ; and as 
 well cures the doubtfulness, irresolution, and waywardness of 
 their minds and hearts, as the confusion and darkness of them. 
 
 It is very possible those things may be distinctly under- 
 stood, which the more we understand the more we disbeKeve 
 them, through their apprehended inconsistency with them- 
 selves or some certain truth. The delectable things of God, 
 his own discovery procures at once, by one and the same 
 radiation of light, both to be clearly imderstood and effec- 
 tually believed. Others have the word of faith without the 
 spirit of faith. The faith, therefore, which they have is a 
 carcass ; not a weak only (which imports but diminished 
 power), but a dead thing, and which hath no power at aU to 
 determine the soul, and compose it to that delightful rest 
 which such things, didy believed, would certainly infer. The 
 most delectable truths of God, and such as most directly 
 tend (in this apostate, lapsed state of man) to give us the 
 sweet and refreshing relishes of a just and rational joy and 
 pleasure, are such as are contained in the gospel of Christ ; 
 the things that concern oiu- reconciliation, friendship, and 
 communion with God in him, and which are therefore whoUy 
 of immediately divine and supernatural revelation, and to be 
 received by faith. Therefore one apostle prays for some that 
 they might be " filled with joy and peace in believing."^ 
 
 ' Eom. XV. 13.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 23 
 
 And another says of otliers, that "believing, they rejoiced 
 with joy unspeakable and full of glory. "^ The external 
 revelation in the gospel is an apt means to beget that faith 
 which it is said " cometh by hearing." But the very notion 
 of means, importing what intervenes to the effect between 
 that and the principal agent, necessarily supposes such an 
 agent ; and that what is only means cannot work the effect 
 alone. That agent, namely, in this case, God himself, or the 
 Spirit, besides the means which he uses and makes effectual, 
 must have his own influence whereby he makes them so. If 
 a pen be a fit means or instrument to write with, it doth not 
 therefore follow that it can write alone, without a hand to 
 move and guide it ; in order whereto a motive and directive 
 influence is imparted. In the present case, the influence is 
 the imcard, enlightening, overpowering communication, whereof 
 we speak ; the eflacac}'" whereof is such as to give the soul 
 that peacefid rest in believing, which is also most pleasant 
 and delightful, according as the things are found to be so 
 which are believed. Nor doth it in order hereto work by 
 way of enthusiastical impulsion, without any reference to the 
 external revelation that is rationally and aptly suitable to the 
 working of the effect : for then that should no way have the 
 place so much as of means. But there being sufficient in- 
 ducement to persuade that this external revelation is di\ane 
 (so as to procure a rational assent to the things revealed, 
 with any man that, having that revelation, with the account 
 of its first confirmations, shall but use his understanding in 
 reference thereto, and is not besotted to a party of sworn 
 enemies to the Christian name), this inward revelation then 
 falling in, captivates his heart to an entii-e imitive closure 
 with the great things contained in the outward one, and 
 principally with the Son of God himself; unto which union 
 that whole revelation is most directly subservient. There- 
 fore it was, that when divers others (of whom it is said, and 
 particularly of Judas, that "they believed not") forsook 
 
 ^ 1 Pet. i. 8.
 
 24 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 Christ, Peter and the other apostles stuck so resolutely to 
 him, because " we believe," say they, " and are sure, that 
 thou art Christ, the Son of the living God :"^ which assur- 
 ance we may then conclude was much of another sort than 
 that of Judas ; though we cannot suppose him to have 
 wanted a rational certainty of the same truth, sufficient to 
 have overcome objections in his judgment, but not sufficient to 
 overcome t/w contrary corrupt inclinations of his wicked heart. 
 Therefore, as the inward revelation uses not to do its work 
 without the outward (for I suppose we have not heard of 
 many Christians where the gospel hath not been), so nor is 
 the outward revelation able, alone, to beget that which, in the 
 more eminent sense, goes in Scripture \mder the name of 
 faith. It may beget that merely intellectual certainty, which 
 may prevail against all doubts and objections in a man's 
 mind to the contrary, but not the contrary inclinations of 
 his corrupt will. Most men's faith is but opinionative, and 
 many men's never reaches so high as to a rational opinion : 
 that proceeds upon having balanced considerations on both 
 sides, and inclines to that part on which seems to be the 
 most weighty ; whereas the faith — as they call it — of too 
 many is no other thing than a merely blind and sequacious 
 himiour grounded upon nothing but a willingness to be in the 
 fashion ; or the apprehension of disgrace, with other incon- 
 veniences, if, where that is the common profession, one 
 should profess to be anj^thing but a Christian ; or a lazy 
 indifference, easily determinable to that part which is next at 
 hand to be chosen ; or it may be, they never having heard of 
 another profession, — which precludes any choice at all. 
 
 But admit it did arrive to a rational certainty, as it easily 
 might with them that have, with the external requisite 
 advantages, competent imderstanding, patience, diligence, 
 and impartiality to consider, — ^that is, suppose it to proceed 
 upon that abundant evidence which the case will admit, that 
 the Christian doctrine hath been testified by God, and that 
 
 1 John \i. 64, 69.
 
 PART 1.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 25 
 
 God's testimony cannot deceive, — there needs more to win 
 and overcome men's hearts ; wliicli must be done ere the 
 things revealed in the gospel can be apprehended delectable. 
 What can any man have greater certainty of, in a mere 
 human way, than all men have that they must die ? And 
 yet how few are there whose spirits are formed hereby to any 
 seriousness agreeable to that persuasion ! Whatever way a 
 man comes to be certain of any thing that hath a contrary 
 tendency to the bent of his habitually wicked heart, he needs 
 more than the evidence of the thing to make it efficaciously 
 determine his will against his former vicious course. If the 
 matter be such as proj)erly falls under faith, that faith 
 grounds upon the authorit}^ of God, apprehended as avouch- 
 ing the truth of that revelation to which we subscribe our 
 assent. But, then, it is lively or languid, according as the 
 apprehension is we have of that avouchment. But the 
 apprehension which is only the product of the external 
 revelation, even recommended by the most advantageous and 
 convincing circumstances, is too faint to command the soul. 
 Who, amongst all the people of the Jews at Mount Horeb, 
 could have any doubt but the authoritj^ that avouched the law 
 there given them was divine ? And yet how boldly do they 
 rush into idolatry, against the express letter of that law ; 
 while the sound of that dreadfid 'voice of words' which 
 delivered it, could hardlj^, one would think, be well out of 
 their ears ! And though they could not doubt of God's 
 authority, yet, for all that, their frequent rebellions are 
 plainly resolved into their infidelity : " How long will this 
 people provoke me ? and how long will it be ere they believe 
 me, for all the signs which I have showed among them?"^ 
 "Yea, they despised the pleasant land: they believed not his 
 word! "2 Or what place could be left for rational doubt, 
 with the multitudes that beheld the miracles of our Lord 
 Jesus, but that they were God's own seal affixed piu'jjosely to 
 the doctrine taught by him ? Yet how few, though we must 
 
 ' Num. xiv. 11. ' Ps. cvi. 24. 
 
 VOL. II. C
 
 26 A TREATISE [pART I. 
 
 suppose many convinced, did heartily believe in Mm ! More, 
 abundantly, did upon a less advantageous external revelation 
 after bis ascension. And the reason is plainly told us : " The 
 Holy Ghost was not yet given, because that Jesus was not 
 yet glorified."^ And how expressly have we it from his own 
 mouth (after he had interpreted coming to him by belie\-ing 
 on him),^ "No man can come to me, except the Father, which 
 hath sent me, draw him"!^ And afterwards having said, 
 " It is the Spirit that quickeneth," he adds, " But there are 
 some of you that believe not"'* (so that no man's professed 
 assent, though as forward a professor as Judas was, there 
 referred to, will in strict account entitle him a believer, if it 
 be not produced by the quickening influence of the Spirit) ; 
 and then repeats, "Therefore I said unto you, that no man 
 can come unto me, except it were given unto him of my 
 Father."^ And what provocation the Father had to withhold 
 that quickening Spirit so generally from that people, any 
 one may see that reads their story. Upon which, by the 
 recess of that Spirit, they are hardened to as great a miracle 
 as formerly their Egj'ptian oppressors were, many ages 
 before ; there being, indeed, no greater miracle — as was said 
 of old — than that men should not believe upon the sight of so 
 many miracles. And this dreadful dereliction, and con- 
 sequent obduration, we see is referred to punitive justice as a 
 vindictive dispensation ; " But though he had done so many 
 miracles before them, yet they believed not on him : that the 
 saying of Esaias the prophet might be fulfilled, which he 
 spake, Lord, who hath believed our report ? and to whom 
 hath the arm of the Lord been revealed?"^ where it is 
 obvious to observe, that the believing of the gospel report 
 owes itself to the revelation of God's arm, or requires the 
 exerting of his power, agreeable to that of the apostle, " That 
 
 ye may know what is the exceeding greatness of his 
 
 power to US-ward who believe, according to the working 
 
 ' John vii. .39. ^ m^]^ yj. 35, 3 jj^i^i vi_ 44. 
 
 ^ lUd. vi. 63, G4. " Ibid. \\. 65. » ni^i^ ^ii. 37^ 33 j iga. \^±
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 27 
 
 of his mighty power, which he wrought in Christ, when he 
 raised him from the dead," etc.^ And how the arm of 
 the Lord came not to be revealed, or that power not to be 
 put forth, is intimated in what follows : " Therefore they 
 could not believe, because" (for which Esaias is again quoted) 
 "he hath blinded their eyes, and hardened their heart," 
 etc.," which shows, that as that blinding and hardening of 
 eyes and hearts, in some superadded degrees thereof, is the 
 effect of a penal dereliction or retraction of God's arm, for 
 former obstinate opposition to the external revelation of the 
 gospel, so there is a precedent blindness and hardness not 
 otherwise vincible than by the arm of the Lord, and which, 
 it being penally wdthheld, will naturally grow worse and 
 worse. And certainly that, upon the withholding whereof 
 such things certainly ensue as are inconsistent with believing, 
 must needs itself be necessary to it. All which things 
 considered, do so plainly speak the insufficiency of a mere 
 external revelation, and the necessity of an internal besides, 
 unto that faith which is the immediate sjjring of delight in 
 Grod, that it is not needful to insist upon many plain texts of 
 Scripture besides, that fully say the same thing; — as that, 
 " No man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy 
 Ghost ;"^ and again, "Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is 
 the Son of God, God dwelleth in him, and he in God ; "* and, 
 " Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ is born of 
 God."^ Upon which words, with many more of like import 
 in the sacred volume, no sense can be put which is tolerable, 
 and not the same with what we have above asserted. 
 
 In short, faith is a part of homage paid to the authority of 
 the great God, which is to be estimated sincere according as 
 it answers the end for which the things to be beKeved were 
 revealed. That end is not to beget only the notion of those 
 things, as truths that are to be lodged in the mind, and go 
 no farther, — as if they were to be understood true only that 
 they might be so understood ; but that the person might 
 
 1 Eph. i. 18—20. • Isa. \\. 9, 10. 3 i Cor. xii. 3. 
 
 * 1 John iv. 15. » Ibid. v. 1. 
 
 v2
 
 28 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 accordingly have Ids spirit formed, and miglit shape the course 
 of his whole conversation : therefore is it called " the obe- 
 dience of faith;" and the same word which is wont to be 
 rendered " unbelief" signifies disobedience, obstinacy, tinper- 
 sitadableness ; being from a theme which (as is known) sig- 
 nifies to 'persuade. So that this homage is then truly given 
 to the eternal God, when his revelation is complied with and 
 submitted to, according to the true intent and pm-pose of it ; 
 which that it may be, requires that his Spiiit ui'ge the soul 
 with his authority, and overpower it into an awful subjection 
 thereto : the soul being so disjointed by the apostasy, that its 
 own faculties keep not (in reference to the things of God) 
 their natural order to one another, further than as a holy 
 rectitude is renewed in them by the Holy Ghost. Therefore 
 is it necessary that the enlightening communication which he 
 transmits into it be not only so clear as to scatter the darkness 
 that beclouded the mind, but so penetrating as to strike and 
 pierce the heart, to dissolve and relax its stiff and frozen 
 rigoui', and render it capable of a new mould and frame. In 
 order whereto, " God, who," at first, " commanded the light 
 to shine out of darkness," is said to have " shined into the 
 hearts" of them whom he renews, "to give the light of the 
 knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus 
 Christ."! 
 
 And as they to whom this communication of God is in 
 some degree afibrded, do hereupon apprehend how necessary 
 it was to them that it should be afibrded, and be such as they 
 now find it (which they apprehended not before), so they 
 perceive it to be delightfid also, as well as necessary. And 
 finding it yet given in to them but in an imperfect degree, 
 their continual cravings, are still for more. And having 
 tasted hereby how gracious the Lord is, " as new-born babes, 
 they desire it, as sincere milk, that they may grow thereby."^ 
 They hereby come to know God and the things of God with 
 savour ; and " wisdom having entered into their hearts, 
 
 1 2 Cor. iv. C. 2 1 Pet. ii. 2, 3.
 
 I'ART I.] OF DELTGHTIXG HS^ GOD. 29 
 
 knowledge is pleasant to their souls." ^ • Whereby, as every 
 renewed taste provokes in them new desire, all such renewed 
 desires dispose them xmto further and more satisfjdng delight. 
 They sensibly discern the difference between their former dry 
 and sapless notions of God, and the lively-spirited appre- 
 hensions which they now have. They can in some measure 
 imderstand the reason why the apostle shoidd in such a 
 rapture speak of " the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
 Jesus our Lord ; " and why he should so triumphantly give 
 thanks to God for the " manifestation of the savour of his 
 knowledge in every place." ^ They can perceive there was 
 good sense in those words, as they have a more quick and 
 judicious perception of the fragrancy of that knowledge ; it 
 is to them a refreshing, vital, quickening perfume,^ as the 
 word there and before imports, — most cheeringly odoriferous, 
 — the savour of life to life, — lively in itself, and to them ; so 
 full of life as to beget and transmit it, and replenish their 
 souls therewith ; so as they might feel life thence worldng in 
 all their powers. A revelation of God, that is of such a 
 nature, cannot but be highly delectable : 
 
 In respect to the matter revealed, God himself especially (if 
 not yet testifying himself to be, yet at least willing in Christ 
 to become) our God, in such a way, and upon such terms, as 
 is expressed in the gospel. A more particular mention of 
 the things, contained in this revelation, that are more apt to 
 beget delight and feed it, is purposely deferred till we come 
 to press and enforce the duty itself. 
 
 In respect of the immediate icay and manner of revelation, 
 with so much facility continually coming in from time to 
 time upon the soid, according as it is found ready by a 
 dutiful compliance to admit it, and doth lie open to it : for 
 otherwise a fatherly severity is most fitly expressed in with- 
 holding it at some times. 
 
 In respect of the life and rigour which it carries with it, 
 whereby it is experienced to be a vital light, and that it is 
 
 1 Prov. ii. 10. - 2 Cor. ii. 14. 3 Ihid. ii. 16.
 
 30 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 indeed, as is said, "life, which is the light of inen."^ Dull, 
 sluggish ineffectual notions of such things can have little, 
 comparatively, of delectation in them. 
 
 In respect of the design and tendency of the revelation, 
 discernible at the same time, to draw the soul into union with 
 God ; and that there may be a continual intercourse between 
 him and it ; not that it might have a transient glance of so 
 lovely an object, and no more. When once it apprehends, 
 " God hath made this light shine in upon me, not to amuse 
 me, but here he fixes it as a lamp to guide me, in a stated 
 course of communion with him," how pleasant is it to think 
 he will be known for this blessed purpose ! Now, a com- 
 munication of God, including a revelation of him apt to 
 beget such a knowledge, cannot be without much matter of 
 delight. 
 
 But besides that, though most naturally following there- 
 upon, it also includes, — 
 
 Secondly, A transforming impression of his image. This 
 yet more fully answers the inquiry. When a person is said 
 to enjoy God, what doth he immediatehj enjoy, or whereby is 
 he said to enjoy God? what doth God communicate or 
 transmit, by which he may be said to be enjoyed ? He com- 
 municates his own living likeness, the very image of himself; 
 not the idea or likeness only by which he is known ; though 
 it must be confessed, the knowledge of him, if he be 
 known to be what he truly is, must suppose a true likeness 
 of him offered to the mind, and formed there. But this of 
 which we now speak is not a merely representative, but a 
 real image. The product of the former it is, as is sufficiently 
 to be collected from what hath been said. For that appears 
 to be not a mere airy, spiritless, ineffectual thing, as the 
 notion of God and of all divine matters is with the most, but, 
 as hath been said, operative, penetrating, efiicacious, apt to 
 beget suitable impressions upon the heart, and wholly trans- 
 form the soul. The effect of it then is this transformative 
 
 ^ John i. 4.
 
 PART T.] OF DELTGHTIXG IN GOD. 31 
 
 impression itself; by wliicli the soul becomes another thing 
 than it was, — "a new creature;" old things being done 
 away, and all things made new.^ In respect of this, it is 
 said to be " born of God." This is " the new man," which 
 after God is said to be " created in knowledge, righteousness, 
 and true holiness : " the divine nature participated ; the seed 
 of God ; the airapx)!, the prime and most excellent part of his 
 creatiu'es.^ 
 
 Concerning this likeness, and the satisfyingness of it, in its 
 perfect state, though much hath been discoursed elsewhere,^ 
 it will be requisite to say somewhat here also, that may bear 
 a more direct reference to the present imperfect state of the 
 regenerate in this world. That commiyiication of God which 
 must be supposed aiforded them, in order to their delighting 
 in him, could signifj^ little to that purpose, if with deformed 
 and diseased souls they were only to look upon a very lovely 
 object, still themselves remaining what they were. Nor doth 
 it delight them only as it is apprehended apt and aiming to 
 work a happy change in them ; but as it doth it, or hath in 
 part done it, — as, like an active, quick flame, it passes through 
 their souls, searches, melts them, burns up their dross, makes 
 them a new lump or mass, forms them for God's own use and 
 converse. 
 
 God is proposed unto our commimion and fellowship under 
 the name of Lights But such a light, it appears, as whereby 
 we that were darkness do also become " light in the Lord," 
 as elsewhere it is expressed ; that, as he is the " Father of 
 lights," we may appear the children of such a Father, and 
 walk accordingly, — that is, "as children of light." ^ For we 
 are presently told, that " if we say we have fellowship with 
 him, and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth : " 
 but " if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, then we 
 have a mutual fellowship,"^ — that is, God and we. It is 
 needful, then, that we have that apprehension of him. And 
 
 1 2 Cor. V. 17. 2 Eph. iv. ; 2 Pet. i. ; 1 John iii. ; James i. 
 
 3 Treatise on the Blessedness of the Eighteous, chaix i. and iii. 
 * 1 John i. 5. ^ Eph. v. 8. « 1 Jolm i. C, 7.
 
 32 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 lie, therefore, by solemn message, makes that declaration of 
 himself, that he is light : " This then is the message which 
 we have heard of him, and declare imto yon, that God is light 
 and with him is no darkness at all;" that is, the most pure, 
 holy, excellent, glorious Being. 
 
 But for what purpose are we to have that apprehension ? 
 We are told by the apostle for what : he there makes that 
 declaration with that design, that we might be entered into 
 the same fellowship in which he was already ; for that end, 
 therefore, we are to have this apprehension. But inasmuch 
 as he immediately adds, that yet while we converse in dark- 
 ness, we lie, if we pretend to that fellowship, it is manifest 
 that this discovery of God, and our suitable apprehension, 
 are no further serviceable to their end than bringing us into 
 fellowship with him, than as by his beams he begets us into 
 his own likeness herein : and that so far as our capacity and 
 present state admit, we be truly in a degree made pure, 
 bright, shining, excellent creatures, resembling our Maker, 
 and being a second time formed after the image of him that 
 created us. 
 
 The gospel is the formative instrimient in this work, as it 
 was said to be the instrument or means of our intellectual 
 illumination. The new creature is said to be "begotten of 
 the word of God ; " and the divine nature to be communicated 
 through the exceeding great and precious promises, which, 
 discovering God's gracious nature and favourable inclination 
 towards us, are an apt means (but not more than a means) to 
 render us well-natured (not cross, thAvarting, contrary) irnto 
 him. Faith admits the gospel-discovery into the soul, and 
 of an external word without, makes it become an ingrafted 
 word, the word of Christ dwelling richly in us : and so gives 
 it the advantage of becoming thus mightily operative; for 
 unto them only who believe it is the "power of God to 
 salvation." And being received, " not as the word of man, 
 but as the word of God," it works effectually in them that 
 believe. To them who believe it not, it signifies nothing ; is 
 to them an empty sound, or only as a tale that is told.
 
 PART I.] ' or DELIGHTING IN GOD. 33 
 
 And inasmuch as the gospel-revelation is the instrument of 
 this impression, by it the impression must be measured, with 
 it must it agree. Which revelation being expressive of the 
 nature of God, and of his mind and will in reference to us, 
 the impression cannot but be agreeable to that revelation : 
 but it must also carry in it the resemblance and likeness of 
 God himself; for the gospel-revelation is God's seal, the 
 stamp upon it is a model of his image. Whence, therefore, 
 the soul sealed therewith, bears on it at once the signature 
 both of the author and the instrument. But because our 
 best and surest way of forming true and right apprehensions 
 of God, is to attend and guide ourselves by the representation 
 that is there made of him (for it were useless and in vain, if 
 letting our thoughts work at random without reference to it, 
 we might conceive as fitly of God and his mind concerning 
 us as by the direction and gvddance of it), therefore are we to 
 aim at conformity to God as he is there represented. For that 
 is the proper likeness to him we are to inquire after (and 
 which only could be impressed by his gospel) that is ex- 
 pressed and represented there : " We all, with open face 
 beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed 
 into the same image, from glory to glory." ^ It is by the 
 glory of the Lord, shining through that glass, that we are 
 changed. And the image whereinto we are changed is the 
 same image that is to be seen in that glass. For there God 
 hath provided such a representation of himself and of his 
 mind should appear, as is most suitable to our case and state, 
 and which it most concerns us to have the view and the 
 image of. That represents him in his imitahle excellencies, 
 and shows what he is towards us, what his coimsels, determi- 
 nations, and constitutions are concerning us ; and hereupon 
 shows what we shoidd be, or what temper of spirit becomes 
 us in reference to such a revelation. And siich, when we 
 receive this his impressive communication, he really makes 
 us thereby become. And then is it that it will be found 
 
 1 2 Cor. iii. 18. 
 
 c 3
 
 34 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 most tigUy delectable. A heart formed according to the 
 revelation of God in Christ, and cast into the mould of the 
 gospel (as is the import of the apostle's words i^ "Ye have 
 obeyed from the heart the doctrine into the type or frame 
 whereof ye were deKvered"), hath a spring of pleasure in 
 itself; not of perfect, unmixed pleasure: for there is much 
 yet remaining that cannot bvit be very displeasing and 
 offensive to such as have learned no longer to "put bitter 
 for sweet, and sweet for bitter," and have " senses exercised 
 to discern betwixt good and evil." And, indeed, by the 
 same vital principle the soul is made capable both of the 
 sweetest delights and the quickest sense of pain: while it 
 was dead, it was sensible of neither. 
 
 Nor is if an original sjjring. Whatever it hath that is 
 good and pleasant comes from a higher head, and is conmiu- 
 nicated. But the communication remains not in this heart 
 as in a dead receptacle, but creates the soul where it is a 
 living spring itself: "The Lord shall satisfy thy soul in 
 drought, and make fat thy bones ; and thou shalt be like a 
 Avatered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters 
 fail not." ~ After which it follows, " Then shalt thou delight 
 thyself in the Lord," etc.^ So, though the waters that are 
 so pleasantly refreshing to holy souls are given by Christ, 
 yet, he himself tells us, they shall be in him to whom they 
 are given " a well of water springing up into everlasting life."^ 
 Whence also the " good man" is said to be "satisfied from 
 himself ;"^ and the " mOuth of the righteous " to be " a well of 
 life,""^ — that is, to others ; much more must his heart be so to 
 himself. Nor, indeed, can there be a vainer or more absurd 
 design and expectation, than to aim immediately at delights 
 and joys, without ever looking after that transforming, 
 purifying, quickening communication from Grod, in which he 
 is to be enjoyed : which is, apparently, the most prejudicial 
 and dangerous mistake, the practical error (and so much the 
 worse, therefore) of many persons of much pretence to reli- 
 
 1 Eom. vi. 17. 2 isa. Iviii. 11. s /j^c?, i^iii. 14. 
 
 t John iv. 14. » pp^v. xiv. 14. 6 Ibid. x. 11.
 
 TART I.] OF DELIGIITIXG IN GOD. 35 
 
 gion, tliat dream and boast of nothing less than raptures and 
 transports, having never yet kno\\ai or felt what the work of 
 regeneration, or the new creature, means ; and having only 
 got some notions of God and Christ, that tickle their fancies 
 without ever changing their hearts, these go for divine en- 
 joyments. Others, somewhat awakened and convinced, but 
 not renewed, though they do not pretend already to have, yet 
 do, from the same mistaken apprehension, as vainly seek and 
 catch at joys and sweetnesses, while their unsanctified hearts 
 do yet lie steeped " in the gall of bitterness ; " and they 
 wonder and complain that they feel not in themselves the 
 delights whereof thej find Scripture sometimes make mention, 
 while in the meantime they expect and snatch at them in 
 that preposterous, impossible way, as to abstract them from 
 the things themselves, wherein the pleasure and delight lies. 
 They would have delight Avithout t/><^ delectable good that must 
 immediately afford and yield it, ur without foregoing the 
 noisome evils that resist and hinder it ; which therefore 
 makes it necessary to treat the more largely of the delightful 
 communication by which only intervening souls are capable 
 of delij^htinof in God. 
 
 And as to this branch of it, — the ritaJ, sanctifying, trans- 
 forming inflKcnce, whereby the soul is wrought to a conformity 
 to the gospel, — if we take a somewhat more distinct Aaew of 
 it, we shall find it cannot but have in it abimdant matter of 
 delight. In the general, the thing here to be communicated 
 is a universal rectitude of temper and dispositions, including 
 the removal of such as are sinful and corrupt, and the settle- 
 ment of such as are holy and gracious ; both to be measured 
 and estimated, as to their good or evil, by the gospel of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. Now, surely that must be a blessed and 
 delightful state — and it is that towards which this divine 
 communication gradually tends — wherein a wretched soul, 
 that was lost in the impurities of sin, shall be stripped and 
 imclothed of all the pravity, perverse inclinations, corrupt 
 affections, which the gospel of Christ condemns ; and invested 
 with all the parts of that purity, that gracious and holy
 
 36 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 frame, wliicli that gospel recommends : for as the former 
 carry in them matter of certain vexation and anguish, which 
 it is hereby freed from ; so the latter manifestly carry in 
 themselves matter of unspeakable delight and pleasure, which 
 it hereby partakes. And by the same degrees by which this 
 divine communication infers the latter of these, it expels the 
 former ; — by the same degrees by which any are made par- 
 takers of the divine nature, they " escape the corruptions 
 which are in the world through lust." 
 
 And that we may be here a little more particular, without 
 descending into the innumerable particularities which might 
 be severally spoken of upon this occasion, we shall only con- 
 sider this heart-rectifying communication, in reference to some 
 of the more principal things towards which the spirit of man 
 may be either perversely, or duly and aright inclined, that we 
 may see what matter of delight it infers and brings with it. 
 
 In order whereto it must be considered, that wherein it is 
 transforming it is also enlivening, and therefore furnishes the 
 sold with the power of sj)iritual sensation ; whereby it comes 
 to apprehend its former temper as very grievous and detest- 
 able, not only being entire and undiminished, but even the 
 relics of it which do yet remam ; and proportionably, the 
 holy frame to be introduced as highly covetable and to be 
 infinitely desired : which, being supposed, it must needs be 
 very delightful to such a soul to feel itself in part rectified, 
 and to expect it further in its temper and inclinations : 
 
 First, Towards God, towards whom it was most disinclined ; 
 that is, both towards him as its end, and towards Ohrist as its 
 ivay to him. 
 
 1. As to himself, its end. It finds, upon reflection, it was 
 dead towards God, without motion towards him, without 
 inclination, — all its powers bent, and set quite another way ; 
 so that to persuade it to begin a course of holy motion 
 towards God, was a like thing as to persuade a stone to fly 
 upwards. It coidd not trust the original Truth, nor love the 
 sovereign Good, nor obey the supreme Authority. Its course 
 was nothing else but continual recession from Him, towards
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTIXG IN GOD. &7 
 
 whom it should have been contiiiually pressing forward with 
 all its might. It was wont to say to Him, in whom was its 
 life and all its hope, " Depart from me, I desire not the 
 knowledge of thy ways ; " was utterly alienated from the 
 life of God, and did choose to live as without him in the 
 world. And although it still remains thus in too great a 
 degree, yet as it abhors this as a hateful way of Kving, and 
 desires it may be otherwise, so is it sensibly delightful that 
 it doth in some degree perceive a change, — that now it can 
 find itself returning into its right and natui'al state of sub- 
 ordination to God: which, while it was out of it, laid that 
 claim to it, that its dislocation was uneasy, and it could have 
 no rest ; though it was not aware what the matter was with 
 it, and could never thoroughly apprehend that it ought, 
 much less could desire or aim, to return. 
 
 And if in returning, and its continual course afterwards 
 (which ought to be but a continuing return and moving 
 back towards God), there be much cause for the exercise of 
 repentance, the disposition whereto is a part of that new 
 nature now communicated, yet even such relentings as are 
 due and suitable upon this account are not unpleasant. There 
 is pleasure mingled with such tears, and with those mourn- 
 ings which are not without hope, and which flow naturally 
 and without force from a living principle within, as waters 
 from their stiU freshly-springing fountain. When the soul 
 finds itself unbound and set at liberty, — when it can freely 
 pour out itself to God, dissolve kindly and melt before him, 
 — it doth it with regret only at what it hath done and been, 
 not at what it is now doing, except that it can do it no more ; 
 affecting even to be infinite herein, while it yet sees it must 
 be confined within some bomids. It loves to lie in the dust 
 and abase itself, and is pleased with the humiliation, contri- 
 tion, and brokenness of heart, which repentance towards God 
 includes in it. So that as God is delighted with this sacrifice, 
 so it is with the offering of it up to him. Many men appre- 
 hend a certain sweetness in revenge ; — such a one finds it 
 only in this just revenge upon himself. How unexpressible
 
 38 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 pleasure accompanies its devoting itself to Grod, when be- 
 moaning itself, and returning with weeping and supplication, 
 it says, ' Now, lo ! I come to thee ; thou art the Lord my 
 God ! I have brought thee back thine own, — what I had 
 sacrilegiously alienated and stolen away, — the heart, which 
 was gone astray, that hath been so long a vagabond and 
 fugitive from thy blessed presence, service, and commvmion. 
 Take now the soul which thou hast made ; possess thy own 
 right ; enter upon it ; stamp it with the entire impression of 
 thine own seal, and mark it for thine. Other lords shall no 
 more have dominion. What have I to do any more with the 
 idols wherewith I was wont to provoke thee to jealousy ? I 
 will now make mention of thy name, and of thine only, I 
 bind myself to thee in everlasting bonds, in a covenant never 
 to be forgotten.' 
 
 The seJf-denial which is included in this transaction hath 
 no little pleasure in it. When the soul freely quits aU 
 pretence to itself, and by its own consent passes into his now 
 acloiowledged right ; disclaims itself and all its own former 
 interests, inclinations, and ends, and is resolved to be to him, 
 and to no other : when this is done unreservedly, without any 
 intention of retaining or keeping back anything from him ; 
 ahsolutely, and without making any conditions of its own, but 
 only agreeing to, and thankfidly accepting his ; peremptorily, 
 and without hesitation, and without halting between two 
 opinions, ' Shall I ? or shall I not?' (as if it were ready in 
 the same breath to retract and undo its own act) — ^how doth 
 it now rejoice to feel itself offer willingly ! They that have 
 life and sense about them, can tell there is pleasui^e in all this. 
 And the oftener repetition is made hereof, so it be done with 
 life, not with trifling formality, they so often renew the 
 relishes with themselves of the same pleasure. 
 
 Continued commerce with God, agreeable to the tenor of 
 that league and covenant struck with him, how pleasant and 
 delightful is it ! — to be " a friend of God," an associate of the 
 Most High, a domestic, — " no more a stranger, a foreigner, 
 but of his own household;" to live wholly upon the plentiful
 
 PAUT i.j OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 39 
 
 provisions, and under tlie liappy order and government of his 
 family ; to have a heart to seek all from him, and lay out all 
 for him ! How great is the pleasure of trust, — of living free 
 from care, that is, of anything but how to please and honour 
 him, in a cheerful, unsolicitous dependence, — expecting from 
 him our "daily bread," believing he wiU not let our souls 
 famish ; that while they " hunger and thirst after righteous- 
 ness, they shall be filled;" that they shall be sustained with 
 the bread and waters of life ; that when they hunger, he will 
 feed them with "hidden manna," and with the fruits that 
 grow on "the tree of life in the midst of the paradise of 
 God ; " that when they thirst he will give water, and add 
 "milk and honey, without money, without price:" — and for 
 the body, not to doubt but he that feeds ravens and clothes lilies 
 will feed and clothe them, — to be so taken up in seeking his 
 kingdom and righteousness, as freely to leave it to him to add 
 the other things as he sees fit ; to " take no thought for to- 
 morrow ; " to have a heart framed herein according to divine 
 precept ; not to be encumbered or kept in an anxious suspense 
 by the thoughts and fears of what may fall out, by which 
 many suffer the same affliction a thousand times over which 
 God would have them sufler but once ; a firm repose on the 
 goodness of Providence, and its sure and never-erring wisdom ; 
 a steady persuasion that our heavenly Father knows what we 
 have need of, and what it is fittest for us to want, to snffer, 
 or enjoy : — how deKghtful a life do these make ! and how 
 agreeable to one born of God, his own son, and heir of all 
 things, as being "joint-heirs with Christ," and claiming by 
 that large grant that says, " All things are j^ours ;" only that 
 in minority it is better to have a wise Father's allowance than 
 be oTir own carvers. 
 
 To live in the fear of God, is not without its pleasure ; it 
 composes the soul, expels the vanity which is not without 
 vexation, represses exorbitant motions, checks unruly passions, 
 keeps all within in a pleasant, peaceful calm, — is " health to 
 the navel, and marrow to the bones." 
 
 To live in his love, is delight itself, or a tendency towards
 
 40 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 it : the disposition whereto being communicated from God, 
 and a part of the holy new creature derived from him, is also 
 part of the (secondary or subservient) delectable object ; as 
 the light that serves unto vision is partly, as the mediate 
 object, somewhat of what I see, and doth partly, as a prin- 
 ciple, actuate and concur with the faculty in the act of seeing. 
 And as the blessed God himself is both the first principle and 
 ultimate object of that and other gracious acts,^ therefore it 
 cannot but be pleasant to the soul to perceive that powerful 
 influence from God stirring in it, by which it is disposed to 
 design and pitch upon him as the great object of its highest 
 debght, unto whom it labom-ed under so vile and wicked 
 an aversion heretofore. Yea, though it yet have no certain 
 persuasion of a present interest in him, yet this disposition of 
 heart towards him, and that it finds it could satisfyingly rest 
 in him as its best good, upon supposition it had such an 
 interest, — the very strivings and contentions of the soul 
 towards him upon this accoxmt, are not without a present 
 pleasure : as we behold with an intermixed desire and delight 
 a grateful object, which we would enjoy, but do not yet know 
 whether we can compass or not. To be in that temper of 
 soul, as to resolve, ' Him I will seek and pursue, him I will 
 study to please and serve, and spend my strength and life in 
 serving him* (which is to live in his love), 'though I yet 
 know not whether he will accept, or how he will deal with 
 me ! ' — this cannot but have a certain sensible delectation 
 in it. 
 
 To live in a stated, hahitnal subjection to Mm as the Lord of 
 our lives, how pleasant is it ! — to have learned to obey ; to be 
 accustomed to the yoke ; to taste and prove the goodness and 
 acceptableness of his will, through an efiectual transformation 
 
 1 And how rationally men may be said at tlie same time to love, delight 
 in, and enjoy the amiable or delectable object, and therewith also love their 
 own love, enjoy their own fruition, or deUght in their own dehght, enough 
 is said by some schoolmen. Nor, indeed, can it be conceived how the 
 soul can continue to love or delight in anything but it must be so. For 
 while it perseveres, every latter act justifies the former, and takes com- 
 placency therein, but all as directed towai'ds such an object.
 
 PART I.] OF DELICxHTING IN GOD. 41 
 
 in the renewal of our minds ; to be " by the law of tiie Spirit 
 of life made free from the law of sin and death ; " to be able 
 to speak it as the undisguised sense of our hearts, " Because 
 thy law is holy, therefore thy servant loveth it;" to reckon 
 it a royal law of liberty, so as to accoimt ourselves so much 
 the more free by how much we are the more thus bound; 
 when we affect to be prescribed to, and are become patient 
 of government, not apt to chafe at the bridle, or spurn and 
 kick at the bovmdaries that hem us in : this is a temper that 
 hath not more of duty in it than it hath of delight. There 
 is such a thing as " delighting in the law of God according 
 to the inward man," when there is yet a difficulty in sup- 
 pressing and keejDing under inordinate, rebellious workings 
 of corrupt nature, imto which there is no desire an indulgence 
 should be given, by having the law attempered to them, but 
 severity rather used, to reduce them to a conformity to the 
 law : so will it be, if the law become a heart-impression ; when 
 it can once be truly said, " Thy law is within my heart," it 
 will be also with the same sincerity said, " I delight to do 
 thy wiU, my God."i 
 
 The continual exercise of a good conscience towards God hath 
 great pleasui'e in it. Hereby our way and course is continuall}^ 
 reviewed, and we pass censures upon ourselves, and upon that 
 account survey our own works. And by how much the more 
 carefully and often this is done, so much the more delectable 
 it will be ; that is, the more approvable we shall find them 
 upon review. For we shall order our course the more warily, 
 as we reckon upon imdergoing an inquisition and search; 
 wherein an apprehensive, serious heart well understands it is 
 not itself to be the supreme judge. How blessed an imitation 
 might there here be of the blessed God himself, who we find 
 beheld his six days' works, and, lo, they were all "very 
 good;" whereupon follows his delightful day of rest: so we 
 shall, in some degree of conformity to him, finding our works 
 to be in that sort good, as that he will by gracious indulgence 
 
 ' Ps. xl. 8.
 
 42 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 accept them, as such, hare our own sabbath, — a sweet and 
 peaceful rest in our own spirits. Though we can pretend no 
 higher than sincerity only, yet how sweet are the reflections 
 of a well- instructed conscience upon that ! When our hearts 
 reproach us not, and we resolve they shall not as long as we 
 live ; we are conscious to ourselves of no base designs ; we 
 propose nothing to ourselves wherein we apprehend cause to 
 decline Grod's eye ; we walk in the light, and are seeking no 
 darkness or shadow of death, where, as workers of iniquity, 
 we may hide ourselves from him ; can implore him as an 
 assistant, and appeal to him as a judge in reference to our 
 daily afiairs and wonted course ; — is this without pleasure ? 
 " This is our rejoicing," saith the Apostle, " the testimony of 
 our conscience, that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not 
 with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had 
 our conversation," etc.^ And thus to converse with God, and 
 him whom we daily design to glorify and serve, and whom 
 we expect daily in some measure, and fully and finally ere it 
 be long, to enjoy, is certainly throughout a " way of pleasant- 
 ness and peace." How delectable then is this soul-rectifying 
 communication from God, whereby, being before so dis- 
 afiected, it becomes now so well inclined towards him in all 
 these respects ! 
 
 But because the exigency of the case did require, by 
 reason of sin that had cut ofi" the intercourse, that there 
 should be a Mediator to open the way, and renew the former 
 out- worn friendship ; therefore it was also necessary that, 
 so the soul might duly move towards God, it should be rightly 
 framed and disposed also towards him. 
 
 2. We are therefore to consider, too, how delectable this 
 communication must be, as it aright disposes the heart 
 towards Christ our way to God. For towards him we must 
 understand it to have been most obstinately and inflexibly 
 averse ; and that, therefore, a mighty communication of 
 power was necessary to set it right here. Unto that part of 
 
 ' 2 Cor. i. 12.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTIIS^G IN GOD. ' 43 
 
 religion which is natiu'al there was so much of an advantage 
 beforehand, as that there was an old foundation to build 
 upon. There are some notions of God left, not only con- 
 cerning his existence, but his nature and attributes, many of 
 them; and from the apprehension what he was, it was in 
 some measure discernible what \ce should have been, and 
 ought yet to be towards him ; and from thence many checks 
 and rebukes of conscience wherein it was fotmd to be other- 
 wise : so that here was somewhat in nature to be wrought 
 upon, as to this part of religion. But as to that part which 
 respects the Mediator, this was a frame wholly to be raised 
 up from the ground. There were no principles immediately 
 and directly inclining to take part with the gospel, but all 
 to be implanted anew ; the waj^ that God would take to 
 bring back souls to him being so infinitely above all human 
 thought. And therefore, though to a considering Pagan it 
 would not sound strangely that God ought to be trusted, 
 feared, loved, etc., yet even to such the gospel of Christ was 
 foolishness. Besides that, this way of dealing with men was 
 not only unknown and nnimaginable to them, not so much as 
 DTice thought of, or to be guessed at ; but the tendency and 
 aspect of it, when it should come to be made known, was 
 such as that it could not but find the temper of men's spirits 
 most strongly opposite, — not merely ignorant, but prejudiced 
 and highly disaffected. For this course most directly tended 
 to take men quite off from their old bottom ; to stoop and 
 humble, and even bring them to nothing ; to stain the pride 
 of their glory, and lay them down in the dust as abject 
 wretches, in themselves fit for nothing but to be trampled on 
 and crushed by the foot of divine revenge. tSupjDose a man 
 to have admitted a conviction, from the light of his own 
 mind and conscience, that he was a sinner, and had offended 
 his Maker, incurred his just displeasure, and made himself 
 liable to his pimishing justice ; it would yet have been a hard 
 matter to make him believe it altogether impossible to him 
 to do anything to remedy the matter, and restore himself to 
 di^-ine favour and acceptance. He would natm-ally be in-
 
 44 A TREATISE [part i, 
 
 clined to tMnk, Why, admit the case be so, he should easily 
 find out a way to make God amends. He would recount 
 with himself all his own natiiral excellencies, and think him- 
 self very capable of doing some great thing, that should 
 more than expiate his offence, and make recompense abun- 
 dantly for any wrong that he had done. But when the 
 gospel shall come and tell him he hath deserved eternal 
 wrath, that his sin is inexpiable but by everlasting sufferings, 
 or what is of equal value ; that here is one, — the eternal Son 
 of God, who became a man like himself, and thereupon a 
 voluntary sacrifice, to make atonement for the transgression 
 of men ; that God will never accept another sacrifice for the 
 sins of men than his, nor ever any service at their hands but 
 for his sake ; that him now revealed to them they must 
 receive, rely upon, and trust to wholly, or perish without 
 mercy ; yea, and that he hath put the government over them 
 into his hands, laid it on his shoidders, and to him they must 
 subject themselves as their Ruler and Judge, — the great 
 Arbiter of life and death to them and all men : — ^that they 
 are to be entirely devoted to him as long they live, as their 
 Redeemer and Lord, — in him as they are to have righteous- 
 ness and strength, so to him they must pay all possible 
 homage and subjection, to him "their knees must bow and 
 theii' tongues confess;" they must receive the law from his 
 mouth, be prescribed to by him, comply with his will, though 
 never so much to the crossing of their own, and though, not- 
 withstanding, they must know they can deserve nothing by 
 it ; that so vile and worthless miscreants they are becom.e, 
 that God will never have to do with them upon other terms ; 
 when this shall appear the state of the case, and it comes to 
 be apprehended, * Then must I yield myself a greater trans- 
 gressor than ever I thought, and an undone, impotent, 
 helpless wretch ? I shall thus make nothing of myself ; and 
 what ! must all my natural or acquired excellencies go just 
 for nothing, and a person of such worth and accomplishments 
 as I be thus brought down to the dust ? yea, and besides, to 
 be brought under such bonds, and profess to owe mvself so
 
 PAliT I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 45 
 
 entirely to a Redeemer, that I must for ever live after Ms 
 "will and pleasui'e, and no more at my OAvn ; and can never 
 hope, if I take a liberty to indulge myself besides the allow- 
 ance of his rvdes, that I can ever make any amends for such 
 transgression by anything that I can do ; so that by taking 
 his gift of my pardon and life upon such terms, I shall sell 
 my liberty, and render myself a perfect slave to his will and 
 pleasure for ever ! ' — ^here now cannot but be a strong stream 
 to be striven against, and most vehement counter-strivings of 
 the haughty and licentious spirit of man. So that it is not 
 strange it should be said by our Savioiu', " No man can come 
 to me except my Father draw him ;" and that the exceeding 
 greatness of power, according to the workings of the mightiest 
 power in any case, should be put forth upon them that 
 beheve. Therefore are men in Christ by creative power only : 
 "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature."^ He is 
 new made, if he be in him. And this aversion, being so 
 deeply natural, will still in a degree remain, — while anything 
 of corrupt nature remains, — in the hearts of even the regene- 
 rate themselves. 
 
 Therefore a continual exertion of the same power will be 
 ever requisite to hold souls to Christ, and retain them in their 
 station in him : " He which stabHsheth us with you in Christ, 
 is God ;"- q. d. it is only a God that can do this. Therefore 
 how is God admii'ed and adored upon this single account : 
 " Now to him that is of power to stablish you according to 
 my gospel, and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to 
 the revelation of the mystery, which was kept secret since 
 the world began" (this was indeed a great secret to the 
 
 lapsed world) "to God only wise, be glory through 
 
 Jesus Christ for ever. Amen."^ 
 
 But as the heart-rectifying communication from God, in 
 this matter, is such as carries mighty power with it, so it 
 doth proportionable pleasui-e, when it hath overcome, and, 
 to the pitch of sincerity, set the soul right in this thing. 
 
 1 2 Cor. V. 17. 2 iiifi^ i. 21. 3 Rquj xvi. 25, 27.
 
 46 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 How delectable is it to receive tlie son of God, wlieii the 
 heart is made " willing in the day of his power," when his 
 cords take hold of the soul, and draw it to him ! What 
 pleasure is there in the consenting, self-resigning act and 
 disposition ! 
 
 It is most highly delightful to receive him, and give up 
 ourselves to him, as our full, suitable good, so exactly answer- 
 ing all the exigencies of our distressed case ; when, sensibly 
 apprehending the true state of it, the soul cries out, ' JN^one 
 but Christ ! ' and finds him present, waiting only for con- 
 sent, readily offering himself, — 'Here I am, take me, — thy 
 Jesus, thy help, thy life ! ' How overcomingly pleasant is 
 this to a soul that feels its distress, and perceives itself ready 
 to perish ; yea, and that daily sees itself perishing, were it 
 not for him ! How pleasant, when in the " time of love" he 
 finds the poor soul in its blood, and says to it, "Live;" 
 clothes it, decks it, makes it perfect through his own comeli- 
 ness ; tenders himself to it, unto it taken off the dunghill, 
 cast out in the most loathsome, deplorable pKght ; and enters 
 the marriage-covenant with it (we need not be squeamish or 
 shy to speak after God himself so representing this matter), 
 — overcomes by his own mercy and goodness, and prevails 
 with a sinful creature to accept him ! How gladly doth it 
 throw off everji;hing of its own, that it may entirely possess 
 him, and be possessed by him ! Here is the joy of a nuptial 
 solemnity, or the joy of espousals : " I am my beloved's, and 
 my beloved is mine ! " 
 
 While as yet this transaction is not distinctly reflected on 
 (as when possibly afterwards it is, there may great difficulties 
 and doubts arise, whether all were rightly done, or yet be on 
 its own part, yea or no), if, however, it be truly done, in the 
 very doing itself, and the same continuing disposition, there 
 is a sensible and inseparable delight. I say in the same dis- 
 position, as often as by any repeated acts of the same kind it 
 expresses and shows itself; that is, as often as this covenant 
 is renewed, whether with solemnity or more occasionally, 
 though the relation arising thence be not in the same instant
 
 J'AKT I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 47 
 
 considered or reflected on, nor the sincerity of the act itself, 
 which is necessary thereto, yet that very consent itself, if it 
 be sincere, hath a secret joy accompanying it, and the soul 
 feds the gratefulness and pleasure of its own act, though it 
 do not for the present examine and take a view of it. For it 
 is now, from a principle of life, embracing and drawing into 
 union with itself an object that is all life, and goodness, 
 and sweetness ; which therefore sheds its own delightful 
 savour and fragrancy through the soul, while it is in the 
 meantime acting only upon the object directly, and not 
 reflecting upon its own act, or considering in that very 
 instant what will be consequential thereupon. But if withal 
 it do consider (as that consideration cannot be far ofi", though 
 it cannot consider everything at once) that it is receiving 
 him that is to bring it to God ; who is able to do it (" even 
 to save to the uttermost all that will come to God by him") ; 
 who is intent upon that design, and did in the midst of 
 dying agonies breathe forth his soul in the prosecution of it ; 
 and with whom God requires it to unite for this very pur- 
 pose ; — this cannot but add unspeakably to the delightfulness 
 of this transaction, and of this efiusion of the Holy Ghost, in 
 the AT.rtue whereof the thing is done, how oft soever it be 
 seriously done ; as our case and state require that it be very 
 often. 
 
 And to receive him as our Lord, which is joined with that 
 other capacity wherein we receive him, namely, of a Jesus or 
 Saviour, — " As ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so,"^ 
 etc., this also, and the heart-subduing influence that disposes 
 to it, is most highly delectable. AVhen the soul that was so 
 stoutly averse, and that once said within itself, ' I will not 
 have him to reign over me,' is brought freely to yield ; and 
 with sincere, loyal resolutions and afiections devotes itself 
 to him, consents to his government, submits its neck and 
 shoulder to his yoke and burden, says to him with an 
 ungainsajang heart, as its full sense, ' Now, thou Lord of my 
 
 1 Col. ii. 6.
 
 48 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 life and hope, wlio liast so long striven witli me, so oft and 
 earnestly pressed me thereto, so variously dealt with me to 
 make me understand thy merciful design, and who seekest to 
 rule with no other aim or intent but that thou mayst save ; 
 and who hast fomided thy dominion in thy blood, and didst 
 die, and revive, and rise again, that thou mightest be Lord of 
 the living and the dead, and therefore my Lord, — accept now a 
 self- resigning soul. I make a free surrender of myself, I bow 
 and submit to thy sovereign power, I fall at the footstool of 
 thy throne, thou Prince of the kings of the earth, who hast 
 loved sinners, and " washed them from their sins in thy 
 blood" — glory in thy conquest; thou hast overcome. I will 
 from henceforth be no longer mine own, but thine ; I am 
 ready to receive thy commands, to do thy will, to serve thy 
 interests, to sacrifice my all to thy name and honour, my 
 whole life and being are for ever thine.' — I say, as before, 
 there is pleasure in the very doing this itself, as often as it is 
 sincerely done. And it adds hereto, if it be more distinctly 
 considered it is no mean or any way imdeserving person to 
 whom this homage is paid, and obligation taken on unto 
 futrn-e obedience. He is "the brightness of the Father's 
 glory, the express image of his person, the heir of all things, 
 and who sustains all things by the word of his power ; " it is 
 he whose name is " Wonderful, Coimseller, The mighty God, 
 The everlasting Father, The Prince of peace;" it is he to 
 whom " all power is given both in heaven and earth," and, 
 more especially, "power over all flesh, that he might give 
 eternal life to as many as were given him;" it is he who 
 "spoiled principalities and powers, and made an open show 
 of them;" he whom, because when he was "in the form of 
 God, and thought it no robbery to be equal with God, he 
 himibled himself, made himself of no reputation, took on him 
 the form of a servant, became obedient to death, the Father 
 hath therefore highly exalted, and given him a name above 
 every name, that in his name every knee should bow ; " and 
 of whom, when he brought him, his first born, into the 
 world, he said, " Let all the angels of God worship him."
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 49 
 
 And such a one lie is, whose temper is all goodness and 
 sweetness : " Tell Ziou, Thy King cometh, meek and lowly." 
 He came into this world, draA^oi doAvn only by his o-^ti pity 
 and love, beholding the desolations and ruins that were 
 wrought in it everywhere ; sin universally reigning, and 
 death by sin, and spreading its dark shadow and a di^eadl'ul 
 cloud over all the earth : in which darkness the prince 
 thereof was ruling, and leading men captive at his will; 
 having drawn them off from the blessed God, their life, and 
 sunk them into a deep oblivion of their own original, and 
 disaffection to theii" true happiness, that coidd only be foimd 
 there. 
 
 This great Lord and Prince of life and peace came down 
 on purpose to be the restorer of soids, — to repair" the desola- 
 tions and ruins of many generations. He came " full of 
 grace and truth," and hath scattered blessings over the world 
 wheresoever he came ; hath infinitely obliged all that ever 
 loiew him: and is he "in whom all the nations of the earth 
 must be blessed." And who wordd not with joy swear fealty 
 to him, and take pleasui-e to do him homage ? Who would 
 not recount with delight the unexpressible felicity of K\'ing 
 under the governing power of such a one ? 
 
 And if the tenor and scope of all his laws and constitutions 
 be viewed over, what will they be found, but obligations 
 upon men to he happy ? How easy his yoke ! how light his 
 burden ! What is the frame of his kingdom, or whereof 
 doth it consist, but " righteousness, peace, and joy in the 
 Holy Ghost"? And who would not now say, "This Lord 
 reigneth ; let the earth rejoice ; let the midtitude of isles be 
 glad thereof" ?^ Why should it not be triumphingly said 
 among the heathen, that " the Lord reigneth : the world also 
 
 shall be established that it shall not be moved : let the 
 
 heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad ; let the sea roar, 
 and the fulness thereof; let the fields rejoice, and all that is 
 therein, and all the trees of the wood rejoice"?^ 
 
 1 Ps. xcvii. 1. - Ibid. xc\a. 10—12. 
 
 VOL. II. D
 
 50 A TllEATlSE [part I. 
 
 It is plain, tliat, be tlie matter of joy here what it will, be 
 there never so much cause of exultation and glorying- in him, 
 the " righteousness and peace " which his kingdom promises 
 never actually take place, nor the "joy" that is in connection 
 there^vith, till the Holy Ghost dispose and form men's spirits 
 thereto.^ For all this is but mere dream and idle talk to those 
 who hear only of these things, and feel not that vital influence 
 insinuating itself, that may give the Kving sense and savour of 
 them. And we may rather expect seas and fields, beasts and 
 trees, to sing his triumphant song, and chant his praises, than 
 those men whose hearts are not attempered to his government, 
 and who are yet imder the dominion of another lord, not being 
 yet, " by the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus, made 
 free from the law of sin and death." But where this is 
 efiectually done, how large matter of most rational pleasure 
 do they find here, while there is nothing in that whole system 
 of laws by which he governs that is either vain, imequal, or 
 unpleasant, or upon any account grievous ! Only this is not 
 the estimate of distempered spirits, or of any other than them 
 in whose hearts his law is written, and who, " because they 
 love him, keep his commandments."- Unto love, his com- 
 mands are most connatural ; for " this is the love of God, that 
 we keep his commandments." They "are not grievous;"^ 
 that is (by the meiosis which some do reasonably enough 
 apprehend in those words), ' they are joyous, delightful, plea- 
 sant,' — but to them only who, being "born of God, have 
 overcome the world." This holy influence and communication 
 of God is therefore grateful, and contributes not a little to 
 delight, in this respect, that thereby men's spirits are rectified 
 and set right towards God, namely, both towards the Creator 
 and Redeemer. 
 
 Secondly, As hereby they are rectified towards men, having 
 the imiversal law of love wrought deep into their hearts, being 
 "filled with all goodness, righteousness, meekness, merciful- 
 ness," apt to do no wrong, to bear any, — to pity and help the 
 
 ^ Kom. xiv. 17. ^ Juhu xv, 10. ^ \ Jolin v. 3.
 
 VAKT I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 51 
 
 distressed, to love enemies, and, as there is opportunity, " to 
 do good to all, especially to them who are of the household of 
 faith," — we must understand in this, as well as in the other 
 parts of that stamp which the Spii'it of God puts on the souls 
 of men, that the impression corresponds and answers to the 
 seal, as hath been said, — the inward communication to the 
 outward revelation of God's will. And so we find the matter 
 is ; for as divine precepts require this shoidd be the temper 
 of men's spirits, so the very things that compose and make up 
 that blessed temper are said to be the fruits of his own Spirit : 
 " The fruit of the Spii'it is peace, longsuiFering, gentleness, 
 goodness, meekness," etc.^ And again, " The friut of the 
 Spirit is in all goodness, and righteousness, and truth." ^ 
 Now, hath not that soul a spring of pleasm-e within, itself, 
 that is in these respects as God would have it be ? that is 
 conscious to itself of nothing but righteousness, goodness, 
 benignity, candour towards any man, and is in all things 
 acted by a spirit of " love, that suffereth long and is kind, 
 that envieth not, that vaunteth not itself, is not pufied up, 
 doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not 
 easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoice th not in iniquity, 
 but rejoiceth in the truth, that beareth all things, beheveth 
 all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things," and 
 "never faileth;"^ that so equally poises and acts a man's 
 spirit, that he carries seemly and suitably towards all men, — 
 takes pleasure in the best, in " the saints and excellent ones of 
 the earth hath all his delight ;" and is no worse affected than 
 to wish them better, even toicarcls the very ivorst, — neither 
 envies the greatest nor despises the meanest, — neither is 
 revengeful towards them that injure him, nor unthankful 
 to them that oblige him ; that is apt to learn of good men, 
 and to teach the bad, by observing and giving the most imi- 
 table example ; that is not undutifol to superiors, nor morose 
 and imconversable towards equals ; that lives not to himself, 
 is a common good to all "within the sphere through which his 
 
 » GaL V. 22, 23. 2 Epli. v. 9. 3 1 Cor. xiii. 4-8. 
 
 D 2
 
 52 A TKEATISE [part I. 
 
 activity can extend itself ; that doth good with inclination, 
 from the steady propension of his own will, and an implanted 
 principle of goodness ? It is e\ddent God hath formed such 
 a man's spirit mito delight of the purest kind, and the best 
 sort of pleasiu-e : unto which they who are strangers, banish 
 it from their o^vti breasts, by the resistance and grief they give 
 his blessed Spirit, thereby making it a stranger there ; and 
 by harbouring in their own bosoms their own tormentors, the 
 pride, the wrath, the envj, the malice, the revengefulness, 
 the bitterness of spirit, which, as they render them uneasy 
 and intolerable to all that are about them, so most of all to 
 themselves ; and which while they prey wherever they range 
 abroad, yet stiU bite most keenly and tormentingly that heart 
 itself wherein they are bred, as poisonous vipers gnawing the 
 bowels which enclose them. 
 
 Third///, Towards themsekes; which also may be considered 
 distinctly; for though all the good qualifications we can 
 mention or think of, do redound to a man's self, and turn to 
 his o^vn advantage, repose, and delight (which it is the design 
 of all this discourse to show), yet there are some that more 
 directly terminate on a man's self, wherein the rectitude we 
 now speak of doth in great part consist. ^\Tien we are 
 obHged to love others as ourselves, it supposes not only an 
 allowable, but a laudable self-love : " Men shaU praise thee 
 when thou doest well to thyself." Before this right spirit be 
 renewed in a man, he doth not only woimd himself by blows 
 that are reflected on him, and hm-t at the reboimd, but by 
 many a direct stroke ; or he lets the woimds fester and cor- 
 rupt, to the cure whereof he should mth all diligence directly 
 apply himself. How impropitious and cruel to themselves are 
 all unholy persons ! "What wastes and desolations do they 
 commit and make in theii* own souls, by breaking the order 
 God and natiu-e did at first set and establish there, dethroning 
 theii' own reason and judgment, which ought to bear sway 
 and govern within them ! This banishes delight, and di'ives 
 it far away from them. They see what is fittest for them to 
 do and seek, and run a quite counter coui'se. "V\Tiat storms
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 53 
 
 do they hereby raise in their owii bosoms ! TVTiat a torture 
 is it, when a man's own light and laiowledge bear a standing 
 testimony against him, and hold him under a continual 
 doom ! 
 
 How ill disposed are men towards themselves, when they 
 wholly neglect themselves in one kind, when they too much 
 mind and seek themselves in another ; when they too little 
 understand themselves, so as not to put a true value on them- 
 selves, but do either disesteem themselves as to their more 
 noble part, in respect of that common excellency which 
 belongs to them with all other men, or do over-magnify 
 themselves and are conceited, and too well-opinioned of 
 themselves in respect of any peculiar excellency wherein they 
 imagine they outstrip others ! How ill do they treat them- 
 selves in their self-indulgence, their gratifjdng their own 
 sensual inclination, with the greatest danger and damage to 
 their souls, when they care not at what expense they make 
 provision for the flesh to "fulfil the lusts thereof"! ^Yliat 
 unkind usage do they find at their own hands, when they 
 cherish and countenance desires which they cannot gratify, 
 and raise to themselves expectations of things not "wdthin 
 their own power, — which being disappointed, turn into so 
 many furies, and in that shape take a sharp revenge upon 
 their own hearts ! when the}' exercise no authority and 
 dominion over themselves, preserve not the Hberty due to 
 what shoidd both be itself free and should command the rest 
 in them ; enslave themselves to vile and ignominious lusts 
 and passions, put out their own eyes, and grind blindfold to 
 the basest and most tyrannical lords, their own sordid 
 humours, and base, mean appetites ; when, though they 
 serve more rigorous taskmasters than the Israelites in Egj^Dt 
 did, and are more sorely beaten by them when their tale is 
 not fulfilled for want of materials, yet groan not because of 
 their hard bondage, nor afiect liberty ! 
 
 This gracious communication from God sets all things in a 
 good degree right within ; so that where there was nothing 
 before but horrid and hellish darlaiess, disorder, and confu-
 
 54 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 sion, there now shines a mild, pleasant, cheerful light, that 
 infers regularity, pxu'ity, and peace. 
 
 How great is the pleasui'e that arises from, self-denial 
 — wherein we do, duly and as we ought, deny ourselves — not 
 only as it is an act of duty towards God, of which before, but as 
 it is an act of justice and mercy towards our own soiils ; — that 
 is, wherein we make a just and true estimate of ourselves ; do 
 esteem basely of ourselves wherein we are really become base 
 and vile ; and wherein there is anything of real value and 
 excellency in our own beings, we value it only upon that 
 account, and in that subordination, wherein it is truly 
 valuable ! How pleasant, M'hen we have learned to forsake 
 and abandon ourselves ! when we are not apt to magnify and 
 applaud, to trust or love, to seek and serve ourselves unduly, 
 and are only inclined to own, to cleave and stick to ourselves, 
 wherein and so far as we ought ! when that idol self is no 
 longer maintained withrii us, at the dear expense of our peace, 
 comfort, safety, and eternal hope, — an idol that engrossed the 
 whole substance of our souls, that exhausted and devoured 
 the strength and vigour of oiu' spirits, which it doth not 
 maintain, and cannot repair, — which consumes our time, 
 which keeps all our powers and faculties in a continual ex- 
 ercise and hurry, to make a costly, a vain, an unlawful pro- 
 vision for it ! How great is the ease and pleasiu-e which we 
 feel in being delivered from that soul- wasting monster, that 
 was fed and sustained at a dearer rate and with more costly 
 sacrifices and repasts, than can be paralleled by either sacred 
 or other history ; that hath made more desolation in the souls 
 of men than ever was made in their towns and cities, where 
 idols were served by only human sacrifices, or monstrous 
 creatures satiated with only such refections ; or where the 
 lives and safety of the most were to be bought out by the 
 constant successive tribute of the blood of not a few : that 
 hath devoured more, and preyed more cruelly upon human 
 lives, than Moloch or the ]\Iinotaur ! When this monstrous 
 idol is destroyed and trodden do^vn, what a jubilee doth it 
 make ! what songs of triumph and praise doth it furnish and
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 55 
 
 supply to the poor soid, now delivered and redeemed from 
 death and bondage ! How much more easy and reasonable 
 a service is it — when once the grace of God and their own 
 experience give men to understand it — to study to please 
 him than themselves ! when they feel themselves dead to 
 theii' former lord and service, and only " alive to God, through 
 Jesus Christ ; " when " sin no longer reigns in theii- mortal 
 bodies, that they shoidd obey it iu the lusts thereof ; " when 
 they no more "yield their members as instruments of un- 
 righteousness unto sin, but have yielded themselves unto God, 
 as those that are alive from the dead ; " when, " being made 
 free from sin, they are become servants unto righteousness :"^ 
 "The law of the Spirit of life iu Christ Jesus hath made 
 me free from the law of sin."" What an ease is it to the 
 spii'it of a man, when he hath not himself to seek, and serve, 
 and care for, in any unlawful, disallowed sense ; when he 
 finds not himself necessitated or urged by his own imperious 
 fleshly inclinations so to do ; when he perceives himself by a 
 prevailing better principle counterpoised, and the weight and 
 bias of his own spii'it incline hun quite another way ; when 
 he finds he hath nothing left hiin to do but to serve God, to 
 know his will and do it, and is disbm-dened of all mmecessary 
 care for himself, — that which is necessary being part of his 
 dut}^ and is therefore done on purpose only for God, — and 
 that which is imnecessary and forbidden (which part only 
 was bvuTlensome) being supplied by — what hath the greatest 
 ease and pleasure in it imaginable — trust and self- resignation 
 to his pleasure and will whose we wholly are ! A^Tiat life is 
 pleasant, if this be not ? Surely, wherein it is attained to, it 
 is most pleasant ; and hither this gracious, heart-rectifying 
 communication is gradually tending. 
 
 How great is the pleasure that arises from self- government ! 
 when that governs in us which should govern, and that is 
 subject and obeys which should obey ; when a man's mind is 
 competently furnished Avith directive practical principles, and 
 
 1 Ptom. \'i. 11—13, 18. 2 iiji^i viii_ 2.
 
 56 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 his heart is so framed that it is capable of being prescribed 
 to, is patient of restraints and direction, easily obeys the rein, 
 and follows the ducture of an enlightened, well-instructed 
 mind ; when the order is maintained between the superior 
 facidties and the inferior, and there are no contentious 
 murmurs of ungovernable appetitions and passions against 
 the law of the mind ! It is true, that where this holy recti- 
 tude doth but in a degree take place, there will be many 
 conflicts, but those conflicts are in order to victory : and how 
 joyful and glorious is the triumph upon that victory ! when 
 the soul enters upon its k-iviKiov, its thanksgiving song, " I 
 thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord ! " How happy a 
 state is that (wherein at some times it is here attained), when 
 there are now no tumults within ! " The wicked," which is 
 the very import of theii" name, " are as a troubled sea that 
 cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt." Here is no 
 governing principle in any power ; no sceptre, no trident to 
 check and aUay the rage of those waters. But when his 
 power goes forth in the soul, whose very word winds and seas 
 obey, how peacefid and pleasant a calm doth ensue ! 
 
 Now is a man restored to himself, and is again in his right 
 mind. He is truly now said to enjoy himself, and upon the 
 best terms ; that is, he enjoys himself in and under God. He 
 is, in . a due subordination, master of himself. He possesses 
 his own soul ; that one piece of holy rectitude, patience, 
 enables him to do so. " In your patience possess ye your 
 souls." ^ Patience is a part of fortitude, an ability to sufier. 
 He that is in this respect impotent of himself, not able to 
 sufier, is a perfect slave : not a slave only to the vicious wills 
 and humours of other men, in whose power he apprehends it 
 is to befriend or hurt him, but first and chiefly to his own ; 
 he is not master of his own judgment, reason, and conscience, 
 but he prostitutes all in the first place to his own inordinate 
 self-love, his avarice, his fear, and consequently to the 
 pleasure of other men, — which, upon no other terms and in- 
 
 ^ liiike xxi. 19.
 
 PART I.] OF DELTGTITIXG IX GOD. 57 
 
 ducements, is base and yile towards any man, were the matter 
 in itself never so right, and the obedience as due to them as 
 can be supposed ; whereas, if he could suffer, he retained his 
 mastery over himself, and were, under God, within his own 
 power. Upon this, with other grounds, is joyfdlncss^ a com- 
 panion of patience ; how much more is it so, — if to this one 
 part, — to the whole frame of that holy rectitude whereby a 
 man's spirit is composed to a due order within itself ; when 
 there is a universal sobriety (or soundness of mind, as the 
 word that uses to express sobriety signifies), a confidency and 
 dominion of one's self, and the soid is no longer hurried to 
 and fro, and even outed of itself, by undue desires, fears, 
 angers, sorrows, etc., nor vexed by the absence of, and its 
 perverse ineptitude and indisposition to, those which it well 
 knows are due ; when it finds itself at liberty from the exac- 
 tions of an tmsubdued flesh, and for the kindly and genuine 
 operations and exercises of the di\'ine life ; when it is in 
 good measure freed from the rackings and tortures that 
 naturally accompany the habitual contrariety of an ungovern- 
 able heart to a convinced judgment and conscience, and is 
 no longer held in pain by such continual self-upbraidings, — 
 "Thou art, and afiectest to be, what thou knowest thou 
 shouldst not ; and neither art, nor dost, nor canst desire or 
 endure to be, or do, what thou very well knowest thou 
 shoiddst"! In that case the soid is throughout disjointed, 
 and continually grating upon itself. And the ease and 
 pleasure which it finds by this happ}' change much resembles 
 that which a man's body, being in such a case, feels, when 
 every dislocated bone is brought back, and well settled in its 
 own proper place and order again. How resentingly doth 
 the psalmist acknowledge divine goodness in this ! " He 
 restoreth my soul : he leadeth me in the paths of righteous- 
 ness for his name's sake ;"^ (?. d. * Now I can walk and act 
 as a sound man, and the paths of righteousness are become 
 pleasant and delectable to me, which before I declined, or 
 
 »Col. i. 11. 2Ps. xxiii. 3. 
 
 D 3
 
 58 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 whereiii my halt and maimed soul was unable to move a step/ 
 Now is 'lieard the voice of joy and gladness,' when 'the 
 bones which were disordered and broken rejoice.'^ 
 
 How great is the joy and pleasure of self-activity ! when the 
 soul is not moved by foreign, improper motives, but finds 
 itself to move freely from an implanted principle of life, that 
 acts it forward in right and plain paths ; when it doth with 
 its own full consent what it is convinced it ought, without 
 being forcibly dragged or violently imposed upon ; and is not 
 a weak, inefifectual, or only self -judging, but a powerful 
 governing, vital law to itself. 
 
 How great pleasure arises from a constant, diKgent self- 
 inspection ! when a man's spirit dwells within itself, resides at 
 home, seeks not itself abroad, remains within its own bounds, 
 is intent upon itself, watches over its own motions as its 
 proper charge, is formed to a compliance with that precept, 
 "Keep thy heart with all diligence,"^ and upon that con- 
 sideration, as seriously weighing that thence are " the issues 
 of life," all vital acts and operations whatsoever will savour 
 of the root and principle from whence they proceed, and be 
 as the heart is ; good and pure if that be so, — if otherwise, 
 corrupt and naught : — to have a spirit habituated to the 
 business of its own pro^dnce and territory ; its eyes, not with 
 " the fool's in the ends of the earth," but turned inward upon 
 itself. Hence his own vineyard is best kept ; when the 
 sluggard's, that neglects himself, is wholly overrun with 
 thorns and briers that cover the face thereof. How forlorn 
 and comfortless a spectacle hath such a man of his own soul ! 
 the horror whereof is only avoided by the more hopeless 
 course of turning off his eye, as conscious how ill entertain- 
 ment is there to be met Tvith. Therefore are such, strangers 
 at home, and are afraid to converse with themselves, — are 
 better acquainted with the affairs of France and Spain, or at 
 least of this and that and the other neighbour, than those 
 of their own souls. And the more things at home are 
 
 1 Ps. li. 8. 2 Prov. iv. 23.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 69 
 
 neglected, the worse tliey grow. Poverty and desolation 
 come upon them as an armed man, that, in this case, wastes 
 and makes havoc without resistance. 
 
 And herein lies much of the heart-rectifying work and 
 power of grace, in disposing and setting the heart so far right 
 towards itself as that it may first have the jxitieiice to look 
 inward, and then the pleasure which will afterwards arise 
 most naturally thence. The great aversion hereto of mis- 
 giving hearts is not otherwise overcome. But when it is, 
 how do all things flourish mider such a one's careful, self- 
 reflecting eye ! That soid is as a watered garden. Thither 
 it can invite His presence, who is altogether made up of 
 delights, to come and eat his pleasant frmts. Arid now, 
 retirement and solitude become delectable, and a man de- 
 lightfully associates with himself, — singles out himself to be 
 his own companion, as finding another always stepping in ; so 
 that he is never less alone than when alone. How im- 
 speakable a happiness is this, when the great Mediator, that 
 undertook to reconcile God to the soul, shall thus have also 
 reconciled it to itself! When it shall be considered how 
 dreadful the case is when a man's wickedness hath trans- 
 formed him into a Magor-missahib,^ — compassed him with 
 afirightments, made him a terror io himself, — it may then be 
 understood how grateful a change it is when he is reformed 
 into a son of peace, and made a dehght to himself ; when he 
 can recreate himself, and refresh his tii'ed eye, overcharged 
 with beholding the sad things that everywhere come in view 
 from a world lost in wickedness, by looking into Grod's own 
 plantation within himself. And considering it under that 
 notion only, he doth not look upon himself with an eye 
 of pride, as he doth not upon others with that of disdain. 
 He beholds with a sort of self-complacency what God hath 
 wrought and done there, — not with self- arrogance, as know- 
 ing there is a self too, upon which he hath still reason to look 
 with abhorrence and self-loathing ; and though there be now 
 
 ' Jerem. xx. 3.
 
 GO A TREATISE [pAKT I. 
 
 incorporated "vritli him a better self, yet that was not of 
 himself. He well understands who made him differ, not only 
 from others, but from himself; and put him into that 
 capacity of saying that / am not I, — I am not who or what I 
 was before. And the more he is used to such self-reflection, 
 the more pleasant it becomes to him; that is, if he confine 
 not his eye too much to the dark side of his own soid, and do 
 look to the more lightsome side, with that remembrance, as 
 before, that whatsoever he is that is good and grateful to 
 behold, he is by grace. He thus grows familiar with himself, 
 and the sight mends as it is oftener beheld ; and while it is 
 not observed always to do so. Yea, though things look 
 many times sadly, and sometimes dubiously, that, however, 
 doth but occasion the accomplishment of a more diligent 
 search, which engages to more earnest labovir and strugglings 
 Avith God and with himself; which labour is recompensed 
 with a following fruit and pleasure : yea, and God is 
 invocated not only for redress, but for further search ; 
 when such fear lest they have been too indulgent and 
 partial towards themselves, and lest they have not made so 
 strict a scrutiny as the case may possibly require, then the 
 request is, " Search and try me, Lord ; see if there be any 
 way of wickedness in me." And here the sincerity which 
 appears in that self-suspicion, and jealousy over their own 
 sotds, is not without its grateful relishes, and a secret delight 
 insinuates and mingles with the appeal which such a soiol 
 makes to Him whose eye is a flame of fire, — searches hearts 
 and tries reiiis. And it is some pleasure, however, to find 
 that disposition in their own souls, that they are thoroughly 
 willing to Icnow themselves, and desire not to shun and 
 decline the search of that fiery, flaming eye. 
 
 Thus then, upon all accoim.ts, this divine communication is 
 delectable, as it tends to rectify men's dispositions towards 
 themselves, and to set them right in their inclinations and 
 postiu-e in reference to their own souls. We may add, — 
 
 Fourthly, It contributes much to the matter of delight, as 
 it sets men's spiiits right in their dispositions towards this and
 
 PAKT I.] OF DELIGHTING jy GOD. 61 
 
 t/ie other world, — the present and future state of tilings. How 
 great a work is necessary to be done in tliis respect, wlierein 
 things are so monstrously out of course, and men become, 
 thereby, not strangers only to true delight and pleasm-e, but 
 even uncapable of any such relishes, tiU. the matter be re- 
 dressed ! How vitiated and unexercised are men's senses as 
 to these things, and imable to discern between good and evil ! 
 Theii' grosser sense is utterly incompetent, and a spiritual, 
 more refined sense is wanting ; therefore do they judge, and 
 choose, and love, and pursue, only as that most incompetent 
 and injudicious principle doth direct : that is appealed to in 
 all cases, — all then- measiu-es are taken from thence ; and that 
 only is called good, which to their sensual imagmation, tinc- 
 tured by the earthliness and carnality of their hearts, appears 
 so ; that evil, of which the same principle doth so pronounce : 
 according hereto is the whole bent and inclination of their 
 soids. And they are only influenced and governed by the 
 powers of this sensible world, — this present evil world, " the 
 fashion whereof," yea, it and the lusts thereof together, are 
 "passing away;" and the things of the world to come have 
 no power with them ; no motives from thence signify any- 
 thing. They are only steered, in their whole com-se, by the 
 apprehension they have of advantages or disadvantages in 
 reference to their present secidar concernments. They love 
 this world, and the things of this world, — "mind earthly 
 things," and are not startled when they are so plainly told 
 that men of this character " have not the love of the Father 
 in them," and are " enemies to the cross of Christ," and that 
 their " end wlQ be destruction." It is a death to them to 
 think of djTng ; not from the fear of what may ensue, — they 
 have atheism enough to stifle such fear, — but from the love of 
 their earthly stations, and that vile, earthly body in which 
 they dwell. 
 
 But how delightfid a thing is the change which this recti- 
 fying communication makes ! How pleasant to live in this 
 world as a pilgrini and stranger, seeking still the better, the 
 heavenly country ! To behold the various enticements which
 
 62 A TREATISE [part i. . 
 
 are here oiFered to view, at some times, -w^tliout inclination 
 towards them ; the frightful aspect and appearance of things, 
 at other times, without commotion ; — is not this delectable ? 
 to dwell apart from this world in the midst of it, — in the 
 "secret of the Almighty,"^ — "under his pavilion,"" — as one 
 of his hidden ones ; withdrawn from the communion of this 
 world to his own communion ; so severed and cut off from 
 this world, as not to partake ia the spirit of it, or be acted 
 thereby, but by another, a greater and more mighty, as well 
 as a pvirer and more holy Spirit ? " Greater is he that is in 
 you, than he that is in the world." ^ And again, " We have 
 received, not the spirit of the world, but the Sj)irit which is 
 of Grod, that we might know the things which are freely 
 given to us of God,"* — which things the divine Spirit 
 disposes the soul to, and unites it with, when it disinclines 
 and disjoins it from this world and the things thereof; and 
 thereby discovers this soul to be quite of another community 
 from that of this world, namely, of a heavenly community, 
 imto which those better and more excellent things do lie in 
 common, as their portion and inheritance. What matter of 
 joy and glorjdng is it, when one is " crucified to this world, 
 and this world to him," ^ when the world appears to him a 
 "crucified" thing ; — that is, an 'accursed, hateful, detestable' 
 thing (which is one notion of crucified), such a thing as he 
 can despise and hate ; which he is as little aj)t to be fond of, 
 as one would be of a loathsome carcass hanging upon an 
 ignominious cross : and when he can feel himself crucified 
 towards it; — that is, 'dead' (another notion of it), disin- 
 clined, without sense, breath, pulse, motion, or appetite ; not 
 so dead as to be without any kind of life, but without that 
 base, low, sordid kind of life by which he lived to it, and in 
 its converses and embraces ! So much of delectation doth 
 this infer, as even to endear the very cross itself, — ^that 
 hateful, horrid thing, — ^by which it is effected. But that 
 carries a fiu-ther signification with it, to be fetched more 
 
 ^ Ps. xci. 1. - Ibid, xxvii. 5. ^1 John iv. 4. 
 
 * 1 Cor. ii. 12. ^ Gal. vi. 14
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD, 63 
 
 expressly from other scriptures ; — tlie cross is itself rendered 
 amiable, and a thing to be gloried in, to be looked on with 
 delight and pleasure, upon the accoxmt of the design and end 
 of that tragedy which was acted thereon : within which 
 design, being executed and accomplished, this happy eflfect is 
 included. We elsewhere find the Apostle expressing his 
 vehement desire to "know Christ, and the power of his 
 resurrection ; " and, in order thereto, the " fellowship of his 
 sufierings, being made conformable to his death." ^ But what 
 did he lastly aim at in this? The next words more fully 
 speak out, what he first mentioned, " the power of his resur- 
 rection" to be the thing chiefly in his eye; and that he 
 desii'ed, what he adds, " the fellowship of his sufierings," etc., 
 as a means unto that end, though it seemed a sharp and 
 painful means : " If by any means I might attain the resur- 
 rection of the dead;"^ q. d. 'J. care not what I undergo, not 
 the sufierings even of a painful crucifixion itself, or that 
 my worldly, earthly self do suffer conformably to the suf- 
 ferings of my crucified Lord ; I matter not by what so 
 severe method the thing be brought about, if by any means 
 it may be brought about, that I may know the power of his 
 resm-rection so feelingly as to attain also the resurrection of 
 the dead.' And what was that ? No doubt to attain a state 
 — which he confesses he had not yet perfectly attained, but 
 was in pursuit of — suitable to his relation and miion with a 
 risen Jesus ; imion with him supposes a being risen with 
 him, — "If ye then be risen with Christ;"^ — it is taken as 
 a granted thing, that they that are his are risen with him. 
 And what state and temper of spirit would be suitable to that 
 supposition, the next words show : " Seek those things that 
 are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. 
 Set your affection," or " mind," " on the things above, not on 
 the things on earth." Then follows the method in which 
 they were brought to the capacity of doing so : " For ye are 
 dead." Their professed relation to Christ did suppose them 
 
 1 Phil. iii. 10. 2 ijyi^^ iii, 11^ 3 (J^^l. iji. j^
 
 64 A TREATISE [part I, 
 
 risen, and did therefore first suppose them dead. Now if they 
 would do suitably to what their profession imported, this was 
 it they had to do : — to abstract their minds and hearts from 
 the things of this earth, and place them upon the things of a 
 higher region ; and, as it is afterwards expressed in. this same 
 context which we were considering before, " to have our con- 
 versation," or " citizenship," " in lieayen, whence we look for 
 the Saviour."^ That is, as our chief interests and privileges 
 are above, to have our thoughts and the powers of our soids 
 chiefly exercised upon that blessed and glorious state ; which 
 state is " the prize," mentioned above, " of the high calling of 
 God in Christ Jesus ;" ~ it being the scope and import of his 
 call unto us, and the very design of his sufferings on the 
 cross, to di'aw up a people from earth to heaven ; — whence, 
 therefore, they that under this call do still "mind earthly 
 things," are said to be " enemies to the cross of Christ ;"^ the 
 great incongruity whereof the Apostle even resents with tears, 
 as he there testifies. And it was in this that he was, for his 
 part, so willing to comply with the design of the cross, that 
 he made no difiicidty to endure all the hardship and dolour 
 of it, that he might attain this glorious fruit and gain, which 
 he reckoned should accrue to him from it, — even more of a 
 raised, heavenly mind ; which signified it to be strongly bent 
 that way already, when no mortifications were reckoned too 
 severe to be imdergone in order thereto. And here, therefore, 
 this soul-rectifjdng influence must be imderstood to have been 
 proportionably strong. 
 
 Hence, also, it was that we find him groaning, as one imder 
 a pressm-e or heavy weight, to be "clothed upon with the 
 heavenly house," and to have "mortality swallowed up of 
 life:"* because God had wrought him to this "selfsame 
 thing," so bent and determined his spirit was towards the 
 blessedness of the future state, — which seems the most natural 
 contexture of discoui'se here, though some others have under- 
 
 J Pliil. iii. 20. 2 jj,i^i iii. 14 
 
 3 Ibid. iii. IS, 19. * 2 Cor. v. 2—5.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 65 
 
 stood it otherwise, — as tliat, thoiigli lie could bear patiently 
 the delay, he could not but desire most earnestly to be there. 
 And we see how the temper of the primitive Christians was, 
 as to this and the other world, in those days when the Spirit 
 was plentifully poured out : " They took joyfully the spoiling 
 of their goods, knowing in themselves they had in heaven 
 a far better and an enduring substance."^ Heaven signified 
 much with them, and this world very little. They " looked 
 not to the things that were seen and temporal, but to the 
 things unseen and eternal,"- as those former worthies did, 
 whose minds and hearts being set right by that " faith which 
 is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of 
 things not seen,"^ they Kved as pilgrims and strangers on 
 earth ; despised the pleasures, riches, and honours of it ; 
 endured all manner of hardships and tortures in it, "not 
 accepting deliverance;" because they were taken up in the 
 pursuit of the "better country," had respect to "the recom- 
 pense of reward," and expected a part in the better resur- 
 rection. And is it not a delightful thing to the spirit of a 
 man, when he is sensibly disentangled and at liberty from the 
 cares, desires, griefs, and fears, that were wont to inwi'ap 
 his heart ; when he finds liis weights and clogs fallen off that 
 depressed him, — the bonds and snares loosed which bound him 
 down to this earth ; and feels himself ascending and moving 
 iipwards, out of that darkness, stupidity, and death, that 
 possessed his soul, into that upper region of light, purity, and 
 peace, unto which his spirit is still gradually more and more 
 connaturalized day by day ; when heaven, in respect of the 
 pure holiness, the calm serenity, the rest and blessedness of it, 
 is now grown familiar to him, and his very element ? 
 
 We see, then, that in all these mentioned respects, this 
 gracious communication, wherein it is rectifying, and tends 
 to settle the soul in that frame which it ought to be in, and 
 which is most proper and natural to it ; therein it is also most 
 delightful, and carries highest matter of pleasure in it. 
 
 1 Heb. 3-34. 2 2 Cor. iv. 18. 3 Heb. xi. 1.
 
 66 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 It is, upon the whole, — that we may sum up the account 
 of this divine communication in the following characters 
 of it, — 
 
 1. Generative, and begets the soul to a new, a divine life; 
 makes it of a sluggish, stupid, dead thing, — as it was towards 
 all heavenly and divine matters, — living and sprightly, full of 
 active life and vigour. Life, we say, is sweet ; it is in itself 
 a pleasant thing. This mean, bodily life itself is so, if we do 
 but consider it, and allow ourselves to taste and enjoy the 
 pleasure of it ; — as, for instance, that this and that limb and 
 member is not a dead Imnp, — that we feel life freshly sprout- 
 ing and springing in every part, — is not this deKghtsome ? 
 How much more the life of the soul, especially this so excel- 
 lent and sublime kind of life ! And it is the radical principle 
 of all other consequent pleasure, that by which we are capable 
 thereof: everything is sapless and without savour to the dead. 
 How pleasant operations and fruitions doth the divine life 
 render a person capable of ! 
 
 2. It is nutritive. Souls are nourished by the same thing 
 by which they are begotten, — by the same divine influence. 
 As a generative virtue is wont to be attributed to the sun, so 
 it cherishes also its own productions. The beams of that Sim 
 of righteousness^ make them that fear God "grow up as 
 calves in the stall," "fill them with marrow and fatness," 
 cause them to "flourish as the cedars of Lebanon." And is 
 not that delightsome, to be increased daily with the increases 
 of God ; fed with heavenly, hidden manna, angels' food ; and 
 thereby — though we need not here speak distinctly of these — 
 to receive at once both nourishment and growth ? 
 
 3. It is sanative, and virtually contains all the fruits in it 
 which are " for the healing of the nations : " when the soul 
 grows distempered, it restores it, and is both sustaining and 
 remedying to it. How great is the pleasui'e of health and 
 soundness ! of ease to broken bones ! of relief to a sick and 
 fainting heart ! So it is often — for in the present state the 
 
 1 Mai. iv. 2.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 67 
 
 cure is not perfect, and relapses are frequent — with the soul 
 in which the life of God hath begun to settle and diffuse 
 itself, till his influence repair and renew it : and when it doth 
 so, how pleasant is it to find a heart made sound in his 
 statutes, and to perceive a new working in it, — the " spirit 
 of love, power, and a sound mind!"^ so pleasant that it 
 occasions a triumph, even when the outward man is peris hin g, 
 if it be found that the inward is renewed day by day. 
 
 4. It is corroborative and strengthening ; confirms resolu- 
 tions, and establishes the heart. Hereby they who have 
 felt this quickening, cherishing, healing virtue, are also 
 strengthened with " might," namely, by " the Spirit," " in 
 the inner man ;" so that they "hold on their way, and being 
 of clean hands, grow stronger and stronger." ^ "They go 
 from strength to strength ;"^ and do not so much spend as 
 increase it by going forward : for the " way itself of the 
 Lord is strength to the upright."^ He provides that fresh 
 recruits shall still spring up to them in their way, — for all 
 theii' supplies are of him, and are acknowledged to be so, — 
 inasmuch as, by waiting upon the Lord, " they renew 
 strength, and mount up with "udngs as eagles, run without 
 weariness, and walk withovit fainting."^ And this increasing 
 strength cannot be without a proportionably increasing 
 delight. How pleasantly doth the strong man rejoice to run 
 his race, and enterprise even difficult and hazardous things ! 
 By this strength doth the regenerate man perform the 
 ordinary duties belonging to his holy profession ; by it he 
 encounters difficulties, combats and conquers enemies, bears 
 heavy and afflicting pressures; and none of these without 
 some intermingled pleasure : for even that exercise of this 
 strength which is likely to be least accompanied with plea- 
 sure — the suffering of sharp and smarting afflictions — hath 
 many times much of this grateful mixture ; and can only be 
 expected to have it in this way of gracious communica- 
 tion, as the depending sufferers shall be " strengthened 
 
 J 2 Tim. i. 7 ; 2 Cor. iv. ■ Job xvii. 9. ^ pg. ixxxiv. 7. 
 
 ^ Prov. X. 29. 5 isa. xl. 31.
 
 68 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 with all miglit, according to tlie glorious power of God, unto 
 all patience and longsuffering, witli joyfulness."^ 
 
 God is therefore to be enjoyed and delighted in by this 
 delectable communication intervening, by which he now 
 frames the soul according to his own image, and gives a 
 heart after his own heart ; that is, such as is suitable to him, 
 and as he would have it be. And this way only is any one 
 in a possibility to delight in God, by having a good frame of 
 spirit communicated to him, and inwrought in him ; — I mean, 
 never without this, and in a great measure by it. Then is he 
 in a happy state, when God hath by his own Spirit made him 
 what by his word he requii'es him to be. Now is he composed 
 to delights and blessedness, being by the same workmanship 
 "created in Christ Jesus," both to "good works" and to the 
 best of enjojanents. How happy is that soul in whom the 
 true matter of delight is become an implanted thing ! that is 
 what it should be, and should be nothing — such is the con- 
 stitution of gospel rules and precepts — but what most truly 
 makes for its own content, delight, and rest ! whose own 
 temper is now in some sort become to it both a law and a 
 reward ! Surely this is one great part of what an en- 
 lightened, apprehensive soul would most earnestly desire and 
 crave, or would be the genuine breathings of a sincerely 
 gracious heart : * that I were more Hke God ! more per- 
 fectly framed according to his holy will ! ' and must therefore 
 be, in great part, a thing apt to afford it delight and rest ; as 
 hath been already inculcated before. 
 
 But yet this natural consequence is little understood. And 
 the common ignorance or inadvertency of this, hath made it 
 necessary to insist the more largely — though but little hath 
 been said in respect of what might — on this part of the 
 delectable communication wherein God offers himself to his 
 people's enjojnnent. For from the not knowing, or not 
 considering of this way of enjoying him, this twofold mistake 
 — the one of very dangerous, the other of uncomfortable 
 importance and tendency — hath arisen : 
 
 1 Col. i. 11.
 
 TART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 69 
 
 First, That same liave tliouglit they have enjoyed God 
 when they have not ; having only had their imaginations 
 somewhat gratified, by certain either false or ineffectual 
 notions of him ; in which they have rested, and placed the 
 sum of their religion and happiness ; never aiming, in the 
 meantime, to have their spii'its reformed according to that 
 pure and holy image and exemplar which he hath represented 
 in the gospel of his Son ; the impression whereof is, Christ 
 formed in us. 
 
 Secondly, That others have thought they have not enjoyed 
 God when they have ; supjjosing there was no enjoyment of 
 him but what consisted in the rapturous, transj)orting appre- 
 hension and persuasion of his particidar love to them ; and 
 slightly overlooking all that work he hath wrought in their 
 souls, as if it were nothing to be accounted of; not allowing 
 themselves to reflect on anything in themselves but what was 
 still amiss ; and vainly seeking Avith much anxiety and com- 
 jolaint what they have, while they will not take notice that 
 they have it, nor apply themselves to improve the already 
 implanted principles that are, in themselves, apt to yield 
 fruits of so pleasant relish. 
 
 It was upon this account requisite to discover, and labour 
 somewhat to magnify, the intrinsical delightfuhiess of religion 
 itself; and to put the more of note and remark upon a well- 
 tempered spirit, even in point of delectableness and the matter 
 of pleasure it hath in it, by how much it is with too many, 
 on one account or another, a neglected thing. 
 
 There is only somewhat of doubt or objection, that may pos- 
 sibly he in the minds of some against the scope and drift of 
 this discourse ; which it will be needful we endeavour to 
 remove before we proceed to what is fiu'ther contained in this 
 gracious communication : as, — 
 
 First, It may be said, ' Doth not all this tend to bring us, 
 instead of delighting in God, to delight in ourselves ; to make 
 lis become oiu- own centre and rest ? And how can the 
 rehshable sweetness of gracious principles and dispositions
 
 70 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 signify God's being to be enjoyed or deliglited in ? For what, 
 are these things God ?' To this I only say : — 
 
 1. That such holy dispositions, as they are not God, so nor 
 are they, in strictness of speech, ourselves. And how absurd 
 were it to call everything ourselves that is in us ! And how 
 self-contradicting, then, were the very objection ! for that 
 would make delighting in God and in ourselves dii'ectly all 
 one ; and so the fault which it causelessly pretends to find it 
 would really commit. It is true that, improperly, holy 
 dispositions are said to make up another self in us, a new 
 man ; according as corrupt and sinful principles and disposi- 
 tions do make also a self, the old man. But then it is also to 
 be remembered, that with no greater impropriety they are 
 capable of bearing the name of God; as the image of any- 
 thing frequently doth the name of the thing which it repre- 
 sents, or the work of its author ; and they are expressly 
 called, Christ formed in us ; and is not he God ? They are 
 called the Spirit; for when we are cautioned not to "quench 
 the Spirit," how can that be understood of the eternal, un- 
 created Spirit himself? And the very thing produced — not 
 merely the productive influence — in the work of regeneration 
 is expressly called by that name (as it is no such strange 
 thing for the effect to carry the name of its cause) : " That 
 which is born of the Spirit is spirit."^ There is Spirit 
 begetting, and spii'it begotten. And the spu'it begotten, as 
 it must be distinguished from its cause, the Spirit of God, so 
 it must from the subject wherein the effect is wrought, our 
 own spirits ; for they, sure, are not produced by the regene- 
 rating work. Yea, and when God is said to " dwell in them 
 that dwell in love," and that are humble and contrite, some- 
 what else is thereby signified to be indwelling there than 
 the mere being of God ; for otherwise the privilege of such 
 were no greater than of all other men and things. And 
 what else is it, but somewhat communicated and imparted 
 immediately from God to such, else how, by dwelling in 
 
 ' John iii. 6.
 
 PART I. I OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 71 
 
 love, do they dwell in God? wliicli, because dwelling imports 
 permanency, cannot be a transient influence only, but some 
 settled, abiding effect, a consistent frame and temper of spii'it, 
 maintained by his continually renewed influence : and there- 
 fore it would be very uni'easonably said, that the representing 
 this as delectable is a calling us off from God to delight in 
 ourselves. For if this commimication be not itself, in strict 
 propriety, Qod, it were as great impropriety to say it were 
 ourselves. Again, — 
 
 2. It hath a great deal more affinity with God than with 
 us. We are, it is true, the subjects of it ; but it is his im- 
 mediate production and very likeness, — a divine nature, no 
 himian thing. Therefore, if here our delight were to termi- 
 nate, it were more proper to call it delighting in God than in 
 ourselves. But, — 
 
 3. It is neither said nor meant that here our delight is to 
 terminate ; but that hereby we are to delight in God, and so 
 that our delight is to terminate in him. 
 
 4. When we are said to enjoy God, I inquire, is anything 
 communicated to us, or no ? If not, we have no enjoyment ; 
 if anything be, what is it ? God's essence ? — that is im- 
 possible, and horrid to think, as hath been said. And we 
 need not repeat, that when we can tell what it is to enjoy a 
 friend, without partaking his essence, whose com m vmications 
 are so incomparably more remote, mediate, resistible, it is 
 less difficidt to conceive how God is to be enjoyed by his 
 communications. 
 
 Secondly, It may be again said, ' But if God be thus to be 
 delighted in, how can delighting in him be upon such terms 
 our duty ? for is it our duty that he communicate himself in 
 this way to us?' Let any that object thus, only study the 
 meaning of those precepts : " Keep yourselves in the love of 
 God;" ''Continue in his goodness;" "Be ye filled with the 
 Spirit;" "Walk in the Spirit;" — and if they can think 
 them to signify anj'thing, they will not be to seek for an 
 answer. But to this more hereafter ; when from the delight- 
 ■^ul object, we come to treat of actual delighting in it.
 
 79 
 
 A TREATISE [i 
 
 Thirdly, But some may say, ' It were indeed to be acknow- 
 ledged that sucli a temper of spirit, once coimnunicated, were 
 indeed very delightful, but where is it to be fouaid ? And to 
 state the matter of delight so much in what is to be sought 
 in ourselves, is to reduce the whole business of delighting in 
 God to an impossibility, or to nothing ; so little appearing of 
 this temper, and so much of the contrary, as gives much 
 cause of doubt whether there be anything to be rejoiced in 
 or no. And what then ? Are we to suspend the exercise of 
 this duty till we have gotten the difficult case resolved, — 
 which may be all our time, — Is there a real, thorough work of 
 God upon my soul or no ? For how can I rejoice in that 
 whereof I have yet a doubt whether it be what it seems or 
 no ? ' I answer, — 
 
 1. It is plaiu, they that really have nothing of this com- 
 munication from God, cannot take delight in it, — otherwise 
 than as hoped for. But, — 
 
 2. Would we therefore have such to please themselves and 
 be satisfied without it ; and delight in their distance and 
 estrangement from God, and while there is no intercourse 
 between him and them? And shaU this be called, too, 
 delighting in God ? Sm-ely somewhat else than delight 
 belongs to their states. 
 
 3. But for such as really have it, that which hath been 
 designed to be evinced is, that it is delectable in itself; and 
 therefore they cannot be "udthout any taste or relish of jaleasure 
 therein, while yet some doubt touching the sincerity and 
 truth thereof doth yet remain ; though such doubt — but 
 more their imperfect reception of this communication, and 
 neglect to look after fui'ther degrees of it — cannot but render 
 their delight comparatively Kttle. Nor hath it been designed 
 to speak hitherto of what delight the regenerate in this way 
 actually have, but what they maij have ; and what matter of 
 delight God's heart-rectifying communication doth in the 
 natui'e of it contain, — that is, supposing it were im]3arted and 
 received, so as actually to have formed the soul according to 
 the gospel-revelation. And if it were so in a more eminent
 
 PAET I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 73 
 
 measure and degree, it were tlien in itself so delectable, as 
 "witliout the assurance of our futm^e safe and happy state, 
 (though that, in that case, is not likely to be in a comfortable 
 degree wanting,) that is, not by it only, but by itself, without 
 the present, constant, necessary concurrence thereof, — to 
 aiFord imspeakable pleasure to that soul in which it hath 
 place. So that the getting of assurance is not the only thing 
 to be done in order to a person's delighting in God ; of 
 which more hereafter is intended to be said, in the directive 
 part. 
 
 But though that be not the only thing, yet it is a very 
 great thing ; and being superadded, makes a great addition 
 to the matter of delight : therefore we further say, — 
 
 Thirdly, This divine communication is delectable, as it 
 includes in it the manifestation of God's love to the soul in 
 particular. 
 
 Nor do we hereby intend an enthusiastical assurance; or 
 such a testification of the love of God to the soul as excludes 
 any reference to his external revelation, and exercise of our 
 own enlightened reason and judgment thereupon ; or wherein 
 these are of no use, nor have subservience thereto. But as in 
 the other parts of the divine communication his external 
 revelation hath the place of an instrument whereby he effects 
 the work inwardly done upon the mind and heart, and of a 
 ride or measure whereby we are to judge of it ; so we are to 
 accoTint it is as to this part of it also ; — that is, he inwardly 
 testifies and manifests the same thing which is virtually con- 
 tained in his gospel-revelation, considered in that reference 
 and aspect which it hath on the present state of the soul. 
 Por that outward revelation must needs be understood to 
 signify diversely to particidar persons, as their state may be 
 diverse : as when it says, the things that " eye hath not seen, 
 nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, 
 God hath prepared for them that love him ;"^ to a person that 
 doth indeed truly love God it vii'tually says, ' All these things 
 
 1 1 Cor. ii. 9. 
 VOL. II. E
 
 74 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 are prepared for thee.' To one that doth not love God it can 
 only be understood to say, ' All these things may be thine, — 
 that is, if thou shalt love him ; if thou do not, thou hast no 
 part ia them.' But inasmuch as a conditional promise, when 
 the condition is performed, is equivalent to an absolute, these 
 words do as truly import this sense to one that loves God, 
 ' These things are thine,' as if they were directed to it in 
 particular. As truly, I say, supposing the person do truly 
 love God ; but not so clearly, or with that evidence. For this 
 truth, supposing it a truth, ' I do sincerely love God,' is not 
 so evident as this, that such preparation is made for them that 
 do : for this is expressly contained in the word of God ; the 
 other is not so, but to be collected only by self-inspection, 
 and observation of the bent and tenor of my spirit and way 
 God-ward. Yet however the evidence of truth admits of 
 degrees, truth itself doth not. All things that are true are 
 equally true. And, therefore, when it is said, *So great 
 things are prepared for them that love God,' it as tridy said, 
 ' They are prepared for this man who loves God ; ' as this or 
 that particular lover of God is contained in the general notion 
 of a lover of him. And then, as that public declaration says 
 not to any, ' These things are prepared for you whether you 
 love God or no,' or otherwise than as they come imder that 
 common notion of lovers of God ; this inward manifestation 
 is also so accommodate to that, as that it says not another 
 thing, but the same, — that is, nothing that contradicts (and 
 indeed no more than is wtually contained in) the other ; or 
 it applies what is generally said of the lovers of God to this 
 particular lover of him as such, — that is, enabling him to 
 discern himself a lover of him impresses this truth powerfully 
 upon the heart, * These great preparations belong to thee as thou 
 art such a one.' 
 
 We speak not here of what God can do, but what he doth. 
 Who can doubt but, as God can, if he please, impruit on the 
 mind the whole system of necessary truth, and on the heart 
 the entire frame of holiness, without the help of an external 
 revelation, so he can imprint this particular persuasion
 
 I'ART I,] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 75 
 
 also without any outward means? Nor do we speak of 
 what lie more rarely doth but of what he doth ordinarily, 
 or what his more usual eoui'se and way of procedui'e is in 
 dealing with the spirits of men. The supreme power binds 
 not its own hands. We may be sure the inward testimony 
 of the Spirit never is opposite to the outward testimony of his 
 gospel which is the Spirit's testimony also ; and therefore 
 it never says to an imholy man, an enemy to God, ' Thou art 
 in a reconciled and pardoned state.' But we cannot be sure 
 he never speaks nor suggests things to the spirits of men but 
 by the external testimony, so as to make use of that as the 
 means of informing them with what he hath to impart ; nay, 
 we know he sometimes hath imparted things — as to prophets 
 and the sacred penmen — without any external means ; and, 
 no doubt, excited suitable affections in them, to the import of 
 the things imparted and made kno^^Ti. 
 
 Nor do I believe it can ever be proved that he never doth 
 immediately testify his own special love to holy souls without 
 the intervention of some part of his external word, made use 
 of as a present instrument to that purpose, or that he always 
 doth it in the way of methodical reasoning therefrom. 
 
 Nor do I think that the experience of Christians can 
 signify much to the deciding of the matter. For besides that 
 this, or that, or a thii'd person's experience cannot conclude 
 anything against a fourth's ; and the way of arguing were 
 very infirm, ' What one or two, or a thousand, or even the 
 greater part of serious Christians, — even such as have at- 
 tained to some satisfjdng evidence of their own good estate, 
 • — ^have not found, that nowhere is to be found ; ' besides that, 
 I say, it is likely that few can distinctly tell how it hath been 
 with them in this matter, — that is, what way or method hath 
 been taken with them in begetting a present persuasion at 
 this or that time of God's peculiar love to them. His dealings 
 with persons — even the same persons at divers times — may 
 be so various ; his illapses and coming in upon them at some 
 times may have been so sudden and sm-jDrising ; the motions 
 of thought are so quick; the observation or animadversion 
 
 e2
 
 76 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 persons usually have of what is transacted in their own 
 spirits is so indistinct ; and they may be so much taken up 
 with the thing itself, as less to mind the way and order of 
 doing it ; that we may suppose little is to be gathered thence 
 towards the settling of a stated rule in this case. Nor is the 
 matter of such moment that we need either be curious in 
 inquiring or positive in determining about it ; that principle 
 being once supposed and firmly stuck to, — that he never says 
 anything in this matter by his Spirit to the hearts of men 
 repugnant to what the same Spirit hath said in his word ; or, 
 that he doth not say a new or a diverse thing from what he 
 hath said there for their assurance ; — that is, that he never 
 testifies to any person by his Spirit that he is accepted and 
 beloved of him, who may at the same time be concluded, by 
 his publicly extant constitutions in his word, to be in a state 
 of non-acceptance and disfavoiir ; or concerning whom the 
 same thing — namely, his acceptance — might not be con- 
 cluded by his word, if it were duly applied to his case. 
 Hereby the most momentous danger in this matter is avoided ; 
 for, if that principle be forelaid, enough is done to preclude 
 the vain boasts of such as may be apt to pretend highly to 
 great manifestations of divine love, while they carry with 
 them manifest proofs of an unsanctified heart, and are under 
 the power of unniortified, reigning sin. That principle ad- 
 mitted, will convince that their boasted manifestations do only 
 manifest their own ignorance, pride, and vanity ; or proceed 
 only from their heated imagination, or — the worst cause — 
 Satanical illusion, designed to lull them asleep in sin, and the 
 more easily to lead them blindfold to perdition. And this is 
 the main concernment about which we need to be solicitous 
 in this matter ; which being provided for, — as it is difficult, so 
 it is not necessary, to determine whether the Spirit do always 
 not only testify according to the external revelation, but hy it 
 also, and so only as to concur in the usual way of reasoning 
 from it. 
 
 No doubt but the same truth may be assented to upon divers 
 grounds, — sometimes upon rational evidence, sometimes upon
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 77 
 
 testimony ; and some truths may be seen by immediate mental 
 intuition, as being self-evident, which also may be capable of 
 demonstration. And though this truth of God's particular love 
 to such a man be none of those that have self- evidence, yet 
 God's Spirit, as it may by assisting the discursive faculty, 
 help us to discern the connections of some things which 
 otherwise we should not perceive ; so it may, by assisting the 
 intuitive, make things evident to us that of themselves are 
 not. Nor yet, also, that it actualhj doth so, can any, I believe, 
 certainly tell ; for admit that at some times some have A^ery 
 transporting apprehensions of the love of God towards them- 
 selves, suggested to their hearts by the Holy Spirit, they 
 having this habitual knowledge before, — that love to him, for 
 instance, or faith in him, or the like, are descriptive charac- 
 ters of the persons whom he accepts and delightfully loves, — 
 how suddenly may the divine light irradiate, or shine ujson 
 those preconceived notions, which were begotten in them by 
 the interveniency of the external revelation before, and 
 excite those before-implanted principles of faith, love, etc., 
 so as to give them the livety sense of them now stirring and 
 acting in their hearts ; and thence also enable them un- 
 waveringly to conclude, and with an unexpressible joy and 
 pleasure, their own interest in his special love ; in this way 
 " shedding it abroad in their hearts by the Holy Ghost given 
 to them," ^ This may be so suddenly done, that they may 
 apprehend the testimony to be immediate, when indeed it is 
 not. 
 
 Nor are they able to prove from Scripture the immediate- 
 ness of it ; for as to what it doth to them in particular. Scrip- 
 ture says nothing, they not being so much as mentioned there. 
 AYhat it doth, or hath done, to this or that person there men- 
 tioned, signifies nothing to their case, if anything were said 
 that must have that import, — which will be hard to evince ; 
 and that it is anywhere in Scripture signified to be its usual 
 way, in common, towards them on whose hearts it impresses 
 
 1 Rom. V. 5.
 
 78 A TREATISE [part i, 
 
 this persuasion, to do it immediately, is much less to be 
 evinced. For what scripture saith so ? and that famous text 
 that speaks so directly to this matter, " The Spirit of God 
 beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children 
 of God," seemeth rather to imply the contrary, inasmuch 
 as the Spirit of God is there expressly said to "co- witness 
 with our Spirit," as the word there used signifies ; by 
 which it would seem to take the same course in testi- 
 fying, which our spirit or conscience doth, — that is, of 
 considering the general characters of his children laid 
 down in his word, reflecting upon the same in ourselves, 
 and thereupon concluding we are his children: which if 
 it were supposed the only thing the Spirit of God ordi- 
 narily doth in this matter, we may with much confidence 
 assert : — 
 
 1. That it doth herein no small thing; for is it a small 
 thing to be ascertained of God's fatherly love to us as his 
 own children ? 
 
 2. That it doth not a less thing than if it testified the same 
 matter in a way altogether immediate. For wherein is it 
 less ? Is the matter less important ? that cannot be said ; 
 for the thing we are assured of is the same, howsoever we be 
 certified thereof. Is it less evident ? that can with as little 
 pretence be said; for doth any one account a thing not 
 evident in itself, and that needs to be proved to him some 
 way or other, the less evident for being proved to him in a 
 discursive way ? TVTiat pretence can any one have to say or 
 think so ? Is it that reasoning is more Kable to error and 
 mistake ? but I hope the reasoning of God's Spirit is not so, 
 when it enables us to apprehend the general truth we should 
 reason from ; to assume to it ; to collect and conclude from it, 
 guiding us by its own light : in each of these surely we have 
 as much reason to rely upon the certainty and infallibility of 
 the Spirit's reasonings, as of its most assertory dictates; 
 otherwise we would, most unreasonably, think the authority 
 of those conclusions laid down in the Epistle to the Romans, 
 and other parts of Scripture, invalidated by the Holy Ghost's
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 79 
 
 vouclisafing to reason tliem out to us, as we know it most 
 nervously and strongly doth. Or, is it kss consolatory ? that 
 cannot be, for that depends on the two former, the importance 
 and evidence of the thing declared; the former whereof is 
 the same, the latter not less. 
 
 3. Yea, and supposing that the Holy Ghost do manifestly 
 concur with our spii'its in the several steps of that discursive 
 way, so that we can observe it to do so (and there is little 
 doubt but it may do so as observably to us, by affording a more 
 than ordinary light to assist and guide us in each part of that 
 procedure, as if it did only suggest a sudden dictate to us 
 and no more), we may upon that supposition add, that it doth 
 hereby more advantageously propose the same thing to us, 
 than if it only did it the other way. It doth it in a way more 
 suitable to our natures, — which is not nothing ; and it doth it 
 in a icatj less liable to after-susjjicion and doubt. For it is not 
 supposed to be always dictatiag the same thing ; and when 
 it ceases to do so, howsoever consolatory and satisfj'ing the 
 dictate was at that instant when it was given, the matter is 
 liable to question afterwards. Upon what grounds was such a 
 thing said ? And though it cannot be distrusted, that what 
 the Holy Spirit testifieth is true, yet I may doubt whether it 
 was indeed the Holy Spirit that testified it or no. "WTiereas 
 if it proceeded with me upon grounds, theij remain, and I 
 have no reason to suspect that which was argued out to me 
 upon grounds which I still find in me, was either from an ill 
 suggestor or with an ill design ; whereas there may be some 
 plausible pretence of doubt in the matter, if there was only a 
 transient dictate given in to me, without any reference or 
 appeal to that rule by which God hath not only directed me 
 to try myself, but also to " try spirits whether they be of him 
 or no." 
 
 Nor is there any imaginable necessity of assigning quite 
 another method to the Spirit's work as it is a Spirit of adop- 
 tion, from that which it holds as it is a Spirit of bondage. 
 For as to this latter, when it convinces a person, and binds 
 down the condemning sentence upon him, this surely is the
 
 80 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 course it follows, — To let a person see, for instance, "They 
 that live after the flesh shall die ;" but thou livest after the 
 flesh, therefore thou shalt die : — or, All that " believe not, 
 the wrath of God abides " on them ; but thou believest not, 
 (as it is, we know, the Spirit's work to convince of not believ- 
 ing,) therefore the wrath of God abides on thee. And what 
 need is there of apprehending its method to be quite another 
 in its comforting work? Nor is it, surely, a matter of less 
 difficulty to persuade some that they are unbelievers, and 
 make them apprehend and feel the terror suitable to their 
 states, than others that they are believers, and make them 
 apprehend the comfort which is projDer to theirs. Yea, and 
 is not its course the same in its whole sanctifying work, — to 
 bring home the particular truth whose impression it would 
 leave on the soid, with application thereof to it in particidar ? 
 which, as generally propoimded in Scripture, men are so apt 
 to waive and neglect ; for what is every one's concern is 
 commonly thought no one's : and what need that its method 
 here should be wholly diverse ? But in whichsoever of these 
 ways the Spirit of God doth manifest his love, it is not to be 
 doubted but that — 
 
 There is such a thing in itself very necessary, and to be 
 attained and sought after ; and that it is highly delectable 
 when he doth vouchsafe it. 
 
 1. That there is such a thing to he sought after as a com- 
 numicable privilege and favour to holy souls, is evident 
 enough from multitudes of scriptures. Those that have been 
 occasionally mentioned, in speaking (what was thought fit to 
 be said) of the way of his doing it, need not to be repeated ; 
 unto which we may add what we find is added to those above- 
 recited words, "Eye hath not seen, etc., the things which 
 God hath prepared for them that love him," namely, " But 
 God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit." ^ And that 
 Spirit not only gives those lovers of God above mentioned a 
 clearer view of the things prepared for them, so as that the 
 
 1 1 Cor. ii. 9, 10.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 81 
 
 nature of them might be the more distinctly rniderstood (as 
 is argued in the latter part of this, and in the following verse), 
 but also of their own propriety and interest in them : " Now 
 we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Sj^irit 
 that is from God, that we may know the things that are 
 freely given us of God."^ "Whence, therefore, they are 
 revealed by the Spirit, not as pleasing objects in themselves 
 only, but as gifts, the e^ddences and issues of di\dne love, — 
 their own proper portion, by the bequest of that love, 
 to whom they are shown. Nor is this the work of the 
 Spirit only, as inditing the Scriptures ; but it is such a 
 work as helps to the sj)iritual discerning of these things, — 
 such as whereto the natural man is not competent, who yet is 
 capable of reading the Scriptures as well as other men. And 
 what will we make of those words of our Saviour, when, 
 having told his disciples he would " pray the Father, and he 
 should give them another Comforter, that he might abide 
 with them for ever, even the Spirit of truth," etc., he adds, 
 " I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you," — that 
 is, as is plain, by that Spirit ; and then shortly after subjoins, 
 " He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it 
 is that loveth me : and he that loveth me shall be loved of 
 my Father, and I will love him, and wall manifest myself to 
 him " ?~ Here is an express promise of this love-manifestation, 
 whereof we speak, by the Spirit (the Comforter mentioned 
 above), not to those particular persons only imto whom he 
 was then directing his speech, or to those only of that time 
 and age, but to them indefinitely that shoidd love Christ and 
 keep his commandments: which is again repeated in other 
 words of the same import. After Judas' (not Iscariot) 
 wondering expostidation touching that peculiarity of this 
 loving manifestation, " Jesus answered and said unto him. If 
 a man love me, he will keep my words : and my Father will 
 love him, and we will come imto him, and make our abode 
 with him."^ So that such a manifestation as is most aptly 
 
 1 1 Cor. ii. 12. ^ John xiv. 16—21. 3 /j^-^/ ^iv. 23. 
 
 e3
 
 82 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 expressive of love, such converse and cohabitation as imports 
 most of kindness and endearedness, they have encoia'agement 
 to expect that do love Christ and keep his words : the same 
 thing, no doubt, with that " shedding abroad of the love of 
 God in their hearts by the Holy Ghost given to them," 
 mentioned before. And whereas we have so plain and re- 
 peated mention of the seal, the earnest, the fii'stfruits of the 
 Spirit, — what can these expressions be understood to import 
 (and they do not signify nothing) other than confirmation of 
 the love of God, or assuring and satisfying evidences and 
 pledges thereof? 
 
 And that there should be such an inward manifestation of 
 divine love superadded to the pubKc and external declaration 
 of it, — which is only made indefinitely to persons so and so 
 characterised, — the exigency of the case did require ; that is, 
 wherein it was necessary his love should be distinctly under- 
 stood and apprehended, it was so far necessary this course 
 should be taken to make it be so. A mere external revelation 
 was not sufficient to that end ; our own unassisted reasonings 
 therefrom were not sufficient. As other truths have not 
 their due and proper impression merely by our rational recep- 
 tion, be they never so plain, wdthont that holj'', sanctifying 
 influence before insisted on ; so this truth, also, of God's 
 love to this person in particular, hath not its force and weight, 
 its efiicacy and fruit, answerable to the design of its dis- 
 covery, unless it be applied and urged home on the soul by a 
 communicated influence of the Spirit to this purpose : many 
 times not so far as to overcome and silence tormenting doubts, 
 fears, and anguish of spirit in reference hereto ; and, where 
 that is done, not sufficient to work ofi" deadness, drowsiness, 
 indisposition to the doing of God cheerfvd service, — not suffi- 
 cient to excite and stir up love, gratitude, admiration, and 
 praise. How many who have learned not to make light of 
 the love of God, as the most do ; who reckon, " in his favour is 
 life ;" to whom it is not an indifierent thing whether they be 
 accepted or no ; who cannot be overly in their inquiry, nor 
 trifle with matters of everlasting consequence ; who are not
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 83 
 
 enough atheists and sceptics to permit all to a mad hazard, 
 nor easy to be satisfied, — walk mournfully from day to day, 
 with sunk, dejected spirits, full of anxiety, even unto agonies, 
 under the clear external discovery of God's love to persons of 
 that character whereof they really are ! Such as observe 
 them judge their case plain, and every one thinks well of 
 them but themselves : yea, their mouths are sometimes 
 stopped by such as discourse the matter with them, but their 
 hearts are not quieted; — or if they sometime are, in a 
 degree, yet the same doubts and fears retiu'n with the former 
 importimity, — the same work is still to be done, — and it is 
 but rolling the retiu-ning stone ; and all human endeavours 
 to apply and bring home the comforts proper and suitable to 
 their case, prove fruitless and ineffectual ; nothing can be 
 fastened upon them ; they refuse to be comforted, while God 
 himself doth not create (that which is the fruit of his own 
 lips) " peace, peace," — while as yet they are not " filled with 
 joy and peace in believing, and made to aboimd in hope, 
 through the power of the Holy Ghost." ^ It is plain there 
 needs a more learned tongue than any human one to speak 
 " a word in season" to such weary ones.^ 
 
 How many, again, have spirits overcome with deadness 
 and sloth, imder a settled (perhaps not altogether mistaken, 
 but merely notional) apprehension of the same love ! They 
 have only that assurance which arises, it may be, not from a 
 fake, but the singie testimony of their own spirits ; at least 
 unaccompanied with other than the ordinary help of the 
 Spii'it, not very distinguishable from the workings of their 
 own ; — ^have reasoned themselves (perhaps regularly, by ob- 
 serving the rule and the habitual bent of their own spirits) 
 into an opinion of their own good estate, so that they are not 
 vexed with doubts and fears, as some others are. But they 
 do not discover to others, nor can discern in tJiemsehcs, any 
 degree of life and vigour, of heavenliness and spirituality, of 
 love to God or zeal for him, proportionable to their high ex- 
 
 1 E,om. XV. 13. 2 isa. 1. 4.
 
 84 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 pectations from him, or tlie great import of this thing, — to he 
 beloved of God. There is no discernible growth or spiritual 
 improvement to be foimd with them. How remote is their 
 temper from that of the primitive Christians ! It is apparent 
 what is yet wanting; they are not edified, as those were, 
 " walking in the fear of the Lord, and in the comfort of the 
 Holy Ghost." ^ Wherefore the matter is plain, there is such 
 a thing as an efiectual, overpowering communication of the 
 Holy Ghost for the manifesting of the love of God, — of 
 great necessity and importance to Christians, — that may be 
 had, and ought to be diligently sought after. 
 
 2. And if it be afforded, — which was the other thing pro- 
 posed, — how infinitely delectable is that manifestation ! The 
 thing itself carries its own reason and evidence with it : — 
 
 (1.) If we consider the matter represented to us thereby — 
 the love of a God I — ^liow transporting would the thought of it 
 be to an enlightened, apprehensive mind! No one, whose 
 nature is not overrun with barbarism, would entertain the 
 discovery of the harmless, innocent love, though it were not 
 profitable to us, even of a creature like ourselves, otherwise 
 than with complacency, — yea, though it were a much inferior 
 (even a brute) creature. Men are pleased to behold love ex- 
 pressing itself towards them in a child, in a poor neighbour, 
 in an impotent servant, — yea, in their horse or their dog. 
 The greatest prince observes with delight the affection of the 
 meanest peasants among his subjects ; much more would they 
 please themselves if they have occasion to take notice of any 
 remarkable expression of his favourable respect to them ! 
 But how unspeakably more if he vouchsafe to express it by 
 gracious intimacies and by condescending famiKarities ! How 
 doth that person hug and bless himself, — how doth his spirit 
 trimnph, and his imagination luxuiiate in delightful thoughts 
 and expectations, — who is in his own heart assured he hath 
 the favour of his prince ! Tea, with what complacency are 
 inward friends wont to receive the mutual expressions of each 
 
 1 Acts ix. 31.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 85 
 
 other's love ! And can it be thought the love of the great 
 and blessed God should signify less ? How great things are 
 comprehended in this, — ' The Lord of heaven and earth hath 
 a kindness towards me, and bears me good- will ! ' How 
 grateful is the relish of this apprehension, both in respect of 
 what it in itself imports, and what it is the root and cause of ! 
 True ingenuity values love for itself. * If such a one 
 will think of me, if I shall have a place in his remem- 
 brance, if he will count me among his friends,' — this we 
 are apt to be pleased with. And tokens are sent and in- 
 terchanged among friends, not only to express love, but to 
 preserve and cherish it, and keep up a mutual remembrance 
 among them. And as there is a great pleasure conceived 
 in receiving such expressions or pledges of love from a 
 friend, not so much for the value of the thing sent, as of 
 what it signifies, and is the token of his love, his kind 
 remembrance ; so is there no less pleasure in giving and 
 sending than in. receiving, because that hereby, as we gratify 
 our own love by giving it a kind of vent this way, so we 
 foresee how we shall thereby excite theirs ; which, therefore, 
 we put a value upon, even abstracting from any advantage 
 we expect therefrom. And this hath a manifest reason in 
 our very natures ; because we reckon there is an honour put 
 upon us, and somewhat is attributed to us, when we are well 
 thought of and a kindness is placed upon us, especially by 
 such as have themselves any reputation for wisdom and 
 judgment. How dignifj^g is the love of God! how 
 honourable a thing to be his favouiite ! The Apostle seems 
 to put a mighty stress on this, when he utters those so em- 
 phatical words, ""WTierefore we labour" (so, defectively, we 
 read it ; we covet, or are ambitious of it as our honour, as that 
 word signifies), "that, whether present or absent, we may be 
 accepted of him;"^ q. d. 'Neither Kfe or death, neither 
 being in the body or out of it, signify anji;hing to me, or 
 they are indifferent things in comparison of this honour, that 
 
 1 2 Cor. V. 9.
 
 86 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 lie may accept me, tliat I may be pleasing to Mm and 
 gracious in his eyes ; that I may stand well in his thoughts, 
 and he bear a kind and favourable regard to me.' 
 
 Yea, and this is a thing in itself delightful, not only as it 
 is honourable, but as it is strange and wonderful. Things 
 that are in themselves grateful, are so much the more so for 
 their being somewhat sm"prising and above all our expecta- 
 tion. I say, supposing they have an antecedent grateftilness 
 in them (for otherwise we know there are also very un- 
 welcome wonders, and which are so much the more dreadful, 
 because they are surprising and unexpected), it is greatly 
 heightened by their being out of the road quite of all our 
 thoughts, — great things that we looked not for. * And who 
 would have looked for such a thing as this, that the Lord of 
 glory should place his love on such a worm as I ?' — ^which is 
 set off with the more advantage, because the same light that 
 represents to a soul God's love, doth also discover to it, at the 
 same time, its own deformity and imloveliness. Aiid then 
 how taking and overcoming is the thought, 'I, impure 
 wretch ! loathsome miscreant ! that lost apostate creature, 
 that made one with a race and crew of rebels, — ^was con- 
 federate with rebellious men against him, yea, in a combina- 
 tion with those revolted creatures the devils, — and now taken, 
 I know not why, into a state of acceptance and favour with 
 him ! — and his love is declared to be towards me ! And why 
 towards me, in myself so vile ? And such love ! the love of 
 a holy, glorious God, towards one in whose very nature was 
 such a horror and hell of wickedness ! Why towards me, 
 rather than others not natm^ally more vile than I ? ' How 
 can this be thought on, without crying out, ' wonderful ! 
 the depths, breadths, lengths, and heights, of this love, 
 that so infinitely passeth knowledge !' And here the greater 
 the wonder, the greater is also the delight. 
 
 And now also are the effects of this love great in the eyes 
 of the sold, according to the apprehended greatness of their 
 cause. If we, indeed, were to form conceptions of these 
 things om"selves, by our own light and conduct, our way
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 87 
 
 were to follow the ascending order, and go up from the 
 effects till we reach the cause. But he can, if he please, in 
 the cause present to us the effects, and magnify them in our 
 eyes, by giving us to see unto how great and magnificent a 
 cause they owe themselves. Now shall we know whence all 
 hath proceeded that he hath done for us. Wherefore again 
 must the transported soul admiringly cry out, 'I now see 
 whence it was that he gave his Son, — because he so loved the 
 world ! why he came, and bled, and died, " who hath loved 
 us, and washed us from our sins in his blood." "What a 
 lustre doth that love cast upon those sufferings and per- 
 formances ! I see why he sent his gospel to me ; why so 
 convincing, awakening words were often spoken in my ear ; 
 I see much in what once I saw but little; why he so ear- 
 nestly strove with me by his Spirit ; why he gave not over 
 tUl he had overcome my heart ; why he himibled, melted, 
 broke me ; why he drew so strongly, bound me so fast to 
 himself, in safe and happy bonds; why he shone into my 
 mind with that mild and efficacious light, transformed my 
 whole soul, stamped it with his holy image, and marked me 
 out for his own. These are now great things, when I behold 
 their glorious, mighty cause ! * And now also in this same 
 cause are all the great effects to be seen which are yet to be 
 brought about by it. 
 
 They are seen as verij great. His continued presence and 
 conduct, which he affords to his own through this world; 
 that constant fellowship which they expect him to keep with 
 them ; the guidance and support they look for ; — in Iiis love 
 these appear great things. And now doth heaven sound no 
 more as an empty name ; it looks not lilce a languid, faint 
 shadow; somewhat can be apprehended of it that imports 
 substance, when it is understood to be a state of rest and 
 blessedness in the commmiion of the God of love, and in- 
 tended as the last j)roduct and expression of his love. 
 
 They are seen as most sm^e and certain. Such love, now 
 manifested and apprehended, leaves no place for doubtful 
 thoughts and suspicious misgivings. There is no fear that
 
 88 A TREATISE [part i, 
 
 this love intends to impose upon ns, or mock us witli tlie 
 representation of an imaginary heaven ; or that it will fail to 
 do what can be expected from it, — to bring us to the real one. 
 How pleasant is it now to behold the great and sure products 
 of this mighty love, its admirable designs and projects, as 
 they appear in the gospel-revelation, now illustrated and 
 shone upon by divine light, to lie ready formed in the 
 pregnant womb of this great productive cause ! It cannot 
 but be an unspeakable pleasure which such a discovery viiR 
 carry with it, when we thus behold the matter itself that is 
 discovered and offered to our view ; unto which it must be a 
 very considerable additional pleasure that will arise, — 
 
 (2.) From the nature and kind of this manifestation ; as 
 being — 
 
 In the general made by himself. It is a too plain and sad 
 truth, that men have unhappily learned to diminish God to 
 themselves, and make everything of him seem little. But 
 when he represents his love himself (as who but God can re- 
 present the love of God ? — he only can tell the story of his 
 own love), that evil is provided against. He will manifest it 
 so as it shall be understood; and set it off to the best ad- 
 vantage. He will make it known how great a thing it is to 
 be beloved of him. And when he gives that blessed saluta- 
 tion, " Hail, thou that art highly favoured ! thou that art 
 greatly beloved ! " he will withal bespeak and procure a 
 suitable entertainment of it. And hence, particularlv, it 
 wiU be- 
 Most incomparably bright and lightsome, in respect of any 
 representation we have had of the love of God any other way. 
 Most immediate : that is, at least, so as not to be only made 
 by some external testimony, given out many an age ago, out 
 of which we are left to pick what we can, and to construe or 
 misconstrue it, as our own judgment serves us ; but so as that 
 if he use such an instrument, he animates it, puts a soul into 
 it, leaves it not as a dead, spiritless letter; and applies it 
 himself to the pm'pose he intends by it, and immediately 
 himself reaches and touches the heart by it.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 89 
 
 Isiost facile and easily sliding in upon us : so that we are put 
 to no more pains than to behold the light which the sun casts 
 about us and upon us. Whatever labour it was necessary for 
 us to use before, in our searches and inquii'ies into the state 
 of our case, there is no more now than in moving, being 
 carried ; or in using our own weak hand when another, that 
 is sufficiently strong, lifts and guides it for us. 
 
 Most efficacious and overcoming : that makes its own way, 
 scatters clouds, drives away darkness, admits no disputes, 
 makes doubts and misgi\'ing thoughts vanish, pierces with a 
 quick and sudden energy like lightning, and strikes through 
 the mind into the heart ; there sheds abroad this love, diffiises 
 the sweet refreshing savour of it ; actuates spiritual sense, 
 makes the soul taste how gracious the Lord is, and relish the 
 sweetness of his love ; puts all its powers into a suitable 
 motion, and excites answerable affection, so as to make the 
 soul capable of interchanging love with love. 
 
 In all these respects, this manifestation of love cannot but 
 be very delectable ; and they who have not found it to be so, 
 will yet apprehend that it must be so, if they have found and 
 experienced the cravings of their own hearts directed this 
 way, and can upon inquiry find this among the things they 
 woidd fain have from God : ' that I might be satisfied of 
 his love ! that I might know his good- will towards me ! ' for 
 to such cravings must this delight at least be commensurate, 
 as was formerly said. But to them that are indifferent in 
 this matter and unconcerned, to whom the love of God is a 
 fancy or a trifle, no real, or an inconsiderable thing, all this 
 will be as tasteless as the white of an eo-ff. 
 
 Concerning which yet (before we pass from this head) it is 
 needful to add these few things, by way of caution : — 
 
 i. That when we say this is of great necessity, we mean 
 not that it is simp/f/ necessary. We think it not so necessary 
 that a Christian cannot be without it, — that is, as a Christian ; 
 but it is necessary to his well and more comfortable beino-, 
 and his more Kvely, fruitful walking and acting in his 
 Christian course.
 
 90 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 ii. That therefore the way of God's dealing herein is 
 •with great latitude and variety ; he having reserved to him- 
 self, by the tenor of his covenant, a liberty to afford or 
 suspend it, to give it in a greater or less degree, as in absolute 
 sovereignty and infinite wisdom he pleases and sees fit to 
 determine. 
 
 iii. It may not therefore with so absolute and peremptory 
 an expectation be sought after, as those things may that are 
 necessary to the holding of soids in life; but with much 
 resignation, submission, and deference of the matter to the 
 divine good pleasure, — such as shall neither import disesteem 
 of it, nor impatience in the want of it. 
 
 iv. That it ought to be less esteemed than the heart- 
 rectifying commimication, that is impressive of God's image, 
 and whereby we are made partakers of his holiness. This 
 proceeds more entirely from pure love to God for himself ; 
 that from self-love. — This tends more directly to the pleasing 
 of us than to the pleasing of God. This is necessary, as was 
 said, but to our well or better being ; that simply to our very 
 being in Christ. This hath its greatest real value from its 
 subserviency to the other ; and what hath its value from its 
 reference to another must be of less value than that. 
 
 V. That it is a great mistake to think God is not other- 
 wise to be enjoyed than in this way of more express testifi- 
 cation of his love ; as if you could have no enjojTnent of a 
 friend, otherwise than by his often repeating to you, * I love 
 you, I love you, indeed I love you ! ' 
 
 vi. That it is a much greater mistake to place the sum of 
 religion here ; and that any should make it the whole of their 
 business to seek this, or to talk of it ; or shoidd think God 
 doth nothing for them worth their acknowledgment and 
 solemn thanksgiving while he doth not this. 
 
 vii. INIost of all, that any should reckon it the first thing 
 they have to do when they begin to mind religion, to believe 
 God's particular love to them, and that he hath elected them, 
 pardoned them, and will certainly save them. So too many 
 most dangerously impose upon themselves ; and accordingly
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 91 
 
 before any true humiliation, renovation of heart, or transac- 
 tion and stipulation mth the Redeemer, do set themselves 
 thus to believe, and, it may be, seek help from God more 
 strongly to believe it ; whenas the devil is too ready to help 
 them to this faith. And when he hath done it, they cry to 
 themselves, "Peace, peace!" and think aU is well; take 
 their liberty, and humour themselves ; live as they list, and 
 say that for so long a time they have had assurance of their 
 salvation. The father of Kes must needs be the author, or 
 the fautor, or both of this faith ; for it is a lie which thev 
 believe ; that is, that they are pardoned and accepted of 
 God is a downright lie, repugnant to his word and the tenor 
 of his covenant ; and, for anything else that may import 
 their state to be at present safe, is to them no credible truth, 
 viii. That for the most part, if Christians, upon whom the 
 renewing work of the Holy Ghost in that former communica- 
 tion hath in some degree taken place, do yet want that 
 degree of this also which is necessary to free them from very 
 afflicting doubts and fears, and enable them to a cheerful and 
 lively walking with God, it is to be reckoned their own fault : 
 either that they put too much upon it, too little minding his 
 public declarations in his word, or do unduly seek it or un- 
 seasonably expect it ; or that they put too little upon it, and 
 expect or seek it not ; or that, by their indulged carnality, 
 earthliness, vanity of spirit, they render themselves incapable 
 of it ; or by their careless and too Kcentious walking, or their 
 either resisting or neglecting holy motions, they grieve that 
 Spirit that would comfort them. For though the restraint of 
 such more pleasant communications may proceed sometimes 
 from an xmaccountable sovereignty, that owes no reason to us 
 of its arbitrary way of giving or withholding favours, yet 
 withal we are to know and consider that there is such a 
 thing as paternal and domestic justice proper to God's own 
 family, and which, as the head and father of it, he exorciseth 
 therein ; whereby, though he do not exercise it alike at all 
 times, it seems meet to his infinite wisdom to awaken and 
 arouse the sloth, or rebuke the folly, or check the vanity, or
 
 92 - A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 cliastise the wantonness, of his offending children ; and that 
 even in this way, — by retiring himself, becoming more re- 
 served, withdrawing the more discernible tokens of his pre- 
 sence, and leaving them to the torture sometimes of their 
 own conjectiires, what worse thing may ensue. And herein 
 he may design, not only reformation to the delinquents, but 
 instruction to others and even vindication to himself. For 
 however these his dealings with men's spirits are in them- 
 selves — as they must needs be — secret, and such as come not 
 under the immediate notice of other men, yet somewhat con- 
 sequential thereto doth more openly appear, and becomes 
 obvious to the common observation of serious Christians with 
 whom such persons converse ; — that is, not only such as 
 languish under the more remarkable terrors of their spirits, 
 and are visibly, as it were, consuming in their own flame, — 
 of which sort there occur very monitory and instructive 
 examples at some times, — but even such also as are deprived 
 of his quickening influence, and have only somewhat remain- 
 ing in them that is ready to die, that are pining away in 
 their iniquities, and sunk deep into deadness and carnality 
 (for his comfortittg communication is also quickening, and he 
 doth not use to withhold it as it is quickening, and continue it 
 as it is comforting, but if such have comfort, such as it is, they 
 are their own comforters), do carry very discernible tokens of 
 divine displeasure upon them ; and the evils and distempers 
 imder which their spirits lie wasting are both their sin and 
 pimishment. Their " own wickedness corrects them, and their 
 backsliding reproves them." And that reproof, being observ- 
 able, doth at the same time warn others, yea, and doth that 
 right to God as to let it be seen he makes a difference, and 
 refuses the intimacies with more negligent, loose, idle, wanton 
 professors of his name, which he vouchsafes to have with some 
 others that make it more their business and study to carry 
 acceptably towards him, and are more manifestlj^ serious, 
 humble, diligent, obedient observers of his will. If, there- 
 fore, we find not what we have found in this kind, however 
 the matter may possibly be resolvable into the divine plea-
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 93 
 
 sure — as it is more likely to be in the case of such desertions 
 as are accompanied with terror, when no notorious apostasy 
 or scandalous wickedness hath gone before, — it is both safe 
 and modest, yea, and obvious, to susjject such delinquencies, 
 as were before mentioned, are designed to be animadverted 
 upon ; and that the love hath been injiu-ed which is now not 
 manifested as heretofore. 
 
 ix. That yet, such a degree of it as is necessary to a com- 
 fortable serving of God in our stations being afforded, such 
 superadded degrees as whereby the soul is in frequent rap- 
 tiu'es and transj)orts are not to be thought withheld penally, 
 in any peciiliar or remarkable respect, or otherwise than it 
 may be understood some way a penalty not to be already per- 
 fectly blessed ; for it is certaiu that such rapturous sensations, 
 and the want of them, are not the distinguishing characters 
 of the more grown, strong, and excellent Christians, and of 
 them that are more infirm, and of a meaner and lower pitch 
 and statvu'e. Yea, those ecstatical emotions, although they 
 have much of a sensible delectation in them — as more here- 
 after may be said to that purpose, — and though they may, in 
 part, proceed from the best and most excellent' cause, do yet, 
 if they be frequent (which would signify an aptitude thereto), 
 import somewhat of diminution in their subject, and imply 
 what is some way a lessening of it ; that is, they imply the 
 persons that are more disposed this way to be of a temper 
 not so well fixed and composed, but more volatile and aiiy : 
 which yet doth not intimate that the chief cause and author 
 of those motions is therefore mean and ignoble, — ^nay, it 
 argues nothing to the contrary but that the Holy Spirit itself 
 may be the supreme cause of them ; for, admitting it to be so, 
 it doth not alter men's natural tempers and complexions, but 
 so acts them as that they retain, and express upon occasion, 
 what was peculiar to their temper not\\T[thstanding. The 
 work and office of the Holy Ghost, in its special communica- 
 tions, is to alter and new mould men in respect of their moral 
 dispositions, not those which are strictly and purely natm-al ; 
 the subject is in this regard the same as it was, and
 
 94 A TREATISE [part i, 
 
 whatsoever is received, is received according to the disposi- 
 tion of that, and it gives a tincture to what supervenes and is 
 implanted thereinto : whence the same degree of such com- 
 mimicated influence wlQ not so discernibly move some tem- 
 pers as it doth others, — as the same quantity of fire will not 
 so soon put solid wood into a flame, as it will light straw. That 
 some men, therefore, are less sensibly and passionately moved 
 with the great things of God, and even with the discovery of 
 his love, than some others, doth not argue them to have less 
 of the Spirit, hut more of that temper which better comports 
 with deeper judgment, and a calm and sober consideration of 
 things. The unaptness of some men's afiections unto strong 
 and fervent motion, doth indeed arise from a stupid inconsi- 
 derateness ; of some others, from a more profound considera- 
 tion, by which the deeper things sink, and the more they 
 pierce even into the inmost centre of the soid, the less they 
 move the surface of it. And though I do not think the saying 
 of that heathen applicable to. this case, "It is a wise man's 
 part to admire nothing," — for here is matter enough in this 
 theme, the love of God, to justify the highest wonderment 
 possible, and not to admire in such a case is most stupidly 
 irrational, — ^yet I conceive the admiration, as well as other 
 affections, of more considering persons is more inward, calm, 
 sedate, and dispassionate ; and is not the less for being so, 
 but is the more solid and rational; and the pleasure that 
 attends it is the more deep and lasting : and the fervour that 
 ensues upon the apprehended love of God, prompting them 
 to such service as is suitable to a state of devotedness to his 
 interest, is more intense and durable ; — of the others, more 
 flashy and inconstant ; as, though flax set on fixe will flame 
 more than iron, yet withal it will smoke more, and will not 
 glow so much, nor keep heat so long. 
 
 X. But to shut up this discom^se : They that have more 
 transporting apprehensions of the love of God, shotdd take 
 heed of despising them who have them not in just the same 
 kind, or do not express them in the same seraphic strains. 
 They that have them not, should take heed of censuring
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 95 
 
 those that, \ritli humble modesty, upon just occasion, discover 
 and own what they do experience in this kind ; much less 
 should they conclude, that because they find them not, there 
 is therefore no such thing to be found : which cynical humour 
 is too habitual to such temjjers. If they do fancy such to 
 be a weaker sort of persons, they may be sincere for all that. 
 And it ought to be considered of whom it was said, that He 
 would not "quench the smoking flax." The grace and Spirit 
 of Christ ought to be reverenced in the various appearances 
 thereof: "Whether we be sober or beside ourselves, the love 
 of Christ constraineth us,"^ — so diversely may the appre- 
 hensions of that love work in the same person, much more in 
 diverse. Christians should be shy of making themselves 
 standards to one another ; which they that do, discover more 
 pride and self-conceit than acquaintance with God, and more 
 admiration of themselves than of his love. 
 
 Thus far we have given some account of the object to be 
 delighted in; wherein, if any think strange that we have 
 spoken so much of the delectable, divine communication as 
 belonging to the object — which how it doth hath been 
 sufficiently shown, — let them call it, if they please, a pre- 
 paring or disposing of the subject (which it also, making its 
 own way into the soul, as hath been said, effectually doth) ; 
 and if the necessity of it be acknowledged upon that account, 
 it equally answers the main purpose aimed at in all this; 
 and had it been only so considered, would but have inferred 
 some alteration in the frame and method of this discourse, 
 but not at all of the substance or design of it. 
 
 II. We are next to say somewhat briefly of the delight 
 itself to be taken therein. Nor shall we be herein so curious 
 as to distinguish, which some do, delight and joy. The 
 distinction wont to be assigned cannot, it is plain, hold here, 
 so as to make the former of these signify a brutish affection 
 only, and the latter proper to rational nature. Is or is there 
 
 1 2 Cor. V. 13, 14.
 
 96 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 any sucli propriety belonging to the words but tbey may be 
 rendered — as indeed tbey are used in Scripture promis- 
 cuously — either in reference to the matter of intellectual 
 or sensitive complacency, and either of a reasonable being or 
 an unreasonable. We take these, therefore, to signify sub- 
 stantially the same thing, and here delight to be entirely all 
 one with joy ; — that is, there is not any the highest degree of 
 joy which may not be fitly enough comprehended under the 
 name of delight, when it is placed — as here it is required to 
 be — upon the blessed God ; whereof, that we may speak the 
 more fully, it will be necessary to preface somewhat con- 
 cerning its general nature, and more principally as it is 
 found in man, within which compass our principal business 
 lies. 
 
 Delight, in the (jencral, is most intimately essential to love ; 
 which imports a well-pleasedness arising from the appre- 
 hended goodness or congruity of the thing loved : and it 
 seems to be merely by accident that there is anything else in 
 love besides that complacency of delight ; — that is, what 
 there is else belonging to the nature of love arises from the 
 mixture and variety which is to be found in the present state 
 of things ; which if it were at present universally and 
 perfectly good, and as most rationally it might be wished, 
 love could have no exercise but in delight. Not being so, 
 desire that it might be so, in reference to ourselves and 
 others whom we love, comes duly to have place ; together 
 with other acts or exercises of love, which it belongs not so 
 much to oiu" present purpose to mention. 
 
 For instance, whatsoever we can love is either things or 
 persons. Whatsoever things we love is for the sake of persons, 
 either ourselves or others ; whom also we love either supremely 
 or subordinately. And whomsoever we love supremely, as it 
 is certainly either God or ourselves, we love whatsoever else, 
 person or thing, either for God's sake or our own. Be it now 
 the one or other, or wheresoever we can place our love, we find 
 things, in reference to any object of it, not yet as we would have 
 them, and as they shall be in that settled state which shall be
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 97 
 
 permanent and last always ; wliereiinto this is but preparatory 
 only, and introductive. The creation is indigent ; every 
 creature wants somewhat even whereof it is capable ; and our 
 own wants, in many respects, we cannot but feel. Nothing 
 is perfect in its OAvn kind, in respect of all possible accessories 
 thereto. Even the state of glorified spirits above is not yet 
 every way perfect, — much is wanting to their full and com- 
 plete felicity ; the body and commimity whereto they belong, 
 " the general assembly," is not yet entire and full ; their 
 common Ruler and Lord is not acknowledged and had in 
 honour as he shall be ; in the meanwhile, their consvmunate 
 blessedness, which much depends on these things, and the 
 solemn jubilee to be held at the close and finishing of all 
 God's work, is deferred : yea, and if we go higher, the blessed 
 God himself, the author and original of all things, althougli 
 nothing be wanting to the real perfection of his being and 
 blessedness, hath yet much of his right withheld from him 
 by his lapsed and apostate creatures : — so that, which way 
 soever we turn ourselves, there remains to us much matter of 
 rational, yea, and holy desire, and most just cause that our 
 love, place we it as well and didy as we can, have its exercise 
 that way ; we have before us many desiderata, according as 
 things yet are. Desire is, therefore, love suited to an imperfect 
 state of things, wherein it is yet imperfect. And because it is 
 suited to such a state of things, it cannot therefore but be 
 imperfect love, or love tending to perfection. Pure and 
 simple delight, is love suited to a state of things every way 
 perfect, and w^hereto there is nothing lacking. Wherefore 
 delight appears to be the perfection of love, or desire satisfied. 
 
 But now because this present state is mixed, and not simply 
 evil, or such wherein we find no present good, therefore the 
 love which is suited thereto ought consequently to be mixed 
 of these two especially (mito which two the present discourse 
 is both extended and confined, because these two affections 
 only are mentioned in the text), desire and delight. So far as 
 things are otherwise than we practically apprehend it is fit 
 they shoidd be, with ourselves or others whom we love, our 
 
 VOL. II. r
 
 98 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 love is exercised in desire; — wherein they are as we would 
 have them, in delight : for then our desire is so far satisfied, 
 and desire satisfied ceases, though love do not cease ; or, it 
 ceases not by vanishing into nothing, but by being satisfied, 
 — that is, by being perfected in the dehght which now takes 
 place. 
 
 The one of these is therefore truly said to be love exercised 
 upon a good which we behold at a distance, and are reaching 
 at ; the other, love solacing itself in a present good. They 
 are as the wings and arms of love : those for pursuits, these 
 for embraces. Or, the former is love in motion, the latter is 
 love in rest; and, as in bodily motion and rest, that is in 
 order to this, and is perfected in it. Things move, not that 
 they may move, but that they may rest ; — whence perpetual 
 progressive motion is not to be found; so it is also in the 
 motion and rest of the mind or spirit. It moves towards an 
 object with a design and expectation to rest in it, and, 
 according to the course and order which God hath stated and 
 set, can never move forward endlessly towards a good in 
 which it shall not at length rest; though yet desire and 
 delight have a continual vicissitude, and do, as it were 
 circularly, beget one another. And thus hath God himself 
 been pleased to express his own dehght, or the joy which he 
 takes in his people, even by the name of rest, namely, that of 
 love : " He will rejoice over thee with joy, he will rest in his 
 love."^ AVTierefore dehght hath not been unfitly defined — 
 the repose or rest of the desiring facility in the thing 
 desired. 
 
 It is true that love, as such, hath ever somewhat of delec- 
 tation in it ; for we entertain the first view of any thing we 
 apprehend as good, with some pleasedness therein, so far as 
 it is loved, — it is grateful to us, and we are gratified some 
 way by it : yea, there is somewhat of this before any emotion 
 by desire towards it, for we would not desire it if it were not 
 pleasing to us ; which desire is then continued, as far as love 
 
 1 ZepL iii. 17.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 99 
 
 is in exercise, till it be attained for ourselves or others, ac- 
 cording as the object of our love, — that is, the object for 
 tchom, as we may call it, — is. 
 
 Nor is that a difficulty, how yet there may be somewhat of 
 delectation, and even of rest, in this love of desire. For the 
 soul doth in that case, while it is thus desiring, rest from the 
 indetermination of desire; — that is, if it have placed love 
 upon any one, itself or another, upon whom, therefore, it doth 
 wdth a sort of pleasedness stay and rest, it doth first, in the 
 general, desire it may be well with such a one ; and then, if 
 any thing occur to its notice that it apprehends Avould be an 
 advantage to the person loved, though it cease not desiring it, 
 yet it ceases from those its former hoverings of desire, being 
 pitched upon this one thing, as satisfied that this would be a 
 good to him it loves. The appetite stays and insists upon this 
 thing; as the Psalmist, "One thing have I desired."^ It 
 hath here, as it were, a sort of hj^othetical rest ; q.d.' How 
 well pleased should I be if this were compassed and brought 
 about ! ' Or it hath an anticipated and preapprehended rest, 
 — a rest in hope, by which the object is some way made 
 present, as it is said, "We rejoice in hope of the glory of 
 God." For there is no rational desire which is not accom- 
 panied with hope. Despair stifles desire. That which ap- 
 pears simply impossible passes for nothing; and goodness 
 goes not beyond the compass of being. But whatsover 
 appears to us a good, whether for ourselves or another, that 
 is suitable and possible ; — that, if love stir in reference to it, 
 becomes the object of complacential desire : that is, it pleases 
 us first upon sight, or upon such an apprehension of it ; the 
 appetite pitches, centres, and rests upon it ; and then we 
 pursue it with desire. But then our delectation therein 
 grows, as our hope doth it will be attained ; and still more, — 
 if we find it to answer its first appearance, — as, by degrees, it 
 is attained actuall}^ ; till being fully attained, our desire, as to 
 that thing, ends in all the delight and satisfaction which it 
 
 1 Ps. xxvii. 4 
 
 F 2
 
 100 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 can afford us. So that the delight and rest which follows 
 desire, in the actual fruition of a full and satisfying good, is 
 much more intense and pure than that which either goes 
 before or doth accompany it, and is indeed the same thing 
 with fruition or enjoyment itself; only that this term hath 
 been by some more appropriated to signify the delectation 
 which is taken in the last end, imto which yet it hath no more 
 native designation than divers other words. We have, then, 
 thus far some general notion of delight, and also pf desire, 
 which is taken in here only on the bye, and as tending some- 
 what to illustrate the other, whereof yet what we now say 
 may be of some use hereafter. 
 
 We are next to speak of this delight in special, which is here 
 to be placed upon God. About which we are to consider, both 
 what it is loe are called to, and how ice are to reckon ourselves 
 called to it. And, — 
 
 First, That we may show ivhat we are called to. Having in 
 this general account spoken only of human dehght, or of 
 delight as it is to be foimd among men, it will now be neces- 
 sary to distinguish this into merely natural and holy. And 
 when we thus distinguish, it is to be understood that by 
 natural we mean what is within the sphere of nature in its 
 present corrupted state ; other\^dse, what was natui'al to man 
 did, taken in a larger sense, include holiness in it : and so 
 the addition of holiness doth but make up purely natural 
 delight, as it was at first ; but as the case now is, the dis- 
 tinction is necessary. And the latter of these only will be 
 the subject of our following discourse, as being only suitable 
 to the blessed object whereon it must terminate, and only 
 capable of being applied thereto. 
 
 When, therefore, our delight is to be placed and set on 
 God, this must be understood as presupposed, that it be 
 purified, di'ained from the pollution and impure tinctures 
 which it hath derived from our vitiated natures, and further 
 contracted by our converse with impure, mean, and vile 
 things. For only that dehght is to be placed on God which 
 can be so placed. And delighting in God being duly
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOT) 101 
 
 designed, that is by consequence designed wliicli is necessary 
 thereto ; and thereto is necessary not merely the direction of 
 one such particular act towards God, but a holy principle, as 
 prerequisite to the right doing even of that also. Unholy 
 love declines God ; and, indeed, it is unholy inasmuch as it 
 doth so. Whence, therefore, it is as impossible it shoidd be 
 set on God, remaining unholy, as that it should be another 
 thing from itself, and yet be still wholly what it was. 
 Although it caimot be another thing in its general nature, as 
 it is not necessary it should, it must be a much altered thing, 
 by the accession of holiness thereto. And this coming upon 
 the whole soul, even upon all its facidties and powers, doth 
 therein spread itself unto its delight also. Delight in God is 
 not the work of an imholy heart. And, as may be collected 
 from what hath been said, holiness consisting in a right dispo- 
 sition of heart towards God, a di^^ne nature participated from 
 him, conformed to him, and which works and tends towards 
 him, and in itself so delightful a thing, it may thence be seen 
 what holy delight is, or wherein the holiness of it stands. 
 
 It must to this purpose be considered that this holy dehght 
 is twofold, according to a twofold consideration of the 
 delectable object ; into which what was formerly said about 
 it may be reduced. All delight in God supposes, as hath 
 been said, some communication from him. 
 
 That communication is either of light, whereby his nature 
 and attributes are in some measure known ; or of operating 
 influence, whereby his image is impressed, and the soul is 
 framed according to his will. And so it is partly mental or 
 notional (I mean, not merely notional, but that hath with it 
 also an aptitude to beget a correspondent impression on the 
 soul, and not engage it in some speculations concerning him 
 only), and partly real, that actually begets such an impres- 
 sion itself. It is partly such as may be understood, and 
 partly such as may be felt : the manifestation of his love 
 partlj^ belongs to the one of these, and partly to the other. 
 
 Answerably hereto, the delight that is taken in him is 
 either more open and explicit, and wherein a person reflects
 
 102 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 upon and takes notice of Ms own act, and whereupon it is 
 exercised ; or, more latent, implicit, and unobserved, when 
 liis delight lies folded up in other acts and dispositions, which 
 have another more principal design, though that also is 
 involved in them. The former way the soul delights in God 
 more directly, applying itself thereto on purpose, and bending 
 the mind and heart intentionally thereto ; its present views 
 of him having that very design and aim : the latter way, it 
 delights in him rather collaterally, when its present action, as 
 well as the disposition leading to it, hath another more direct 
 scope and aim. And the delight only adheres to the act, as 
 being in itself delightfid ; — as, for instance, the acts of 
 repentance, trust, self-denial, etc., which have another end 
 than delight, though that insinuates into them. 
 
 The former of these may be called contemplative delight, — 
 the sold solacing itself in a pleasant meditation of God, 
 whereby its dehght in him is excited and stirred up. The 
 latter, — understanding sense spiritually, as it belongs to the 
 new creature, and is taken, ^ — Di^^y he called semitive delight, 
 whereby the soul, as it were, tastes how gracious the Lord is ; 
 which though it doth by the other also, yet the distmction 
 holds in respect of the way wherein the delight is begotten 
 and begim, if not in respect of the thing itself begotten, or 
 wherein the matter ends. In the former way, the soul more 
 expressly reflects uj)on its own present exercise, which it 
 directly intends. In the latter, it may not reflect expressly 
 either upon its actual delight which it . hath, nor actually 
 consider God as the object that yields it that pleasure ; as I 
 may be delighted by the pleasant taste of this or that food, 
 without considering what the thing is I am feeding on, nor 
 have distinct reflection on the pleasure I take therein, having 
 another and more principal design in eating, — the recrmting 
 of my strength, — and that delight being only accessory and 
 accruing on the bye. The former is less durable, and sooner 
 apt to vanish upon the cessation of the present act, like the 
 
 1 Phil. i. 9; Heb. v. 14.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 103 
 
 delight of the eye. The latter is more permanent, as that of 
 the taste, and habitual ; such as is the pleasui^e of any thing 
 whereof one hath a continued possession, — as of a confirmed 
 state and habit of health, or of the riches, dignities, pleasant 
 accommodations, which belong to any one's settled condition ; 
 of which he hath that continual enjoyment that insensibly 
 forms his spirit, raises and keeps it up to a pitch suitable to 
 his condition, though he have not every day or hour dis- 
 tinct formed thoughts of them, nor is often in that con- 
 templative transport with Nebuchadnezzar, — "Is not this 
 great Babylon, that I have built ? " etc. 
 
 Both these are holy delight, or delight in God ; in both 
 whereof may be seen, added to the general nature of delight, 
 a holy nature as the principle, inferring a powerful, steady 
 determination of the heart towards God, as the object and 
 end which it tdtimately tends to and terminates upon ; — 
 though in the former way of delighting in God, the soul 
 tends towards him more directly ; in the latter, according as 
 the acts may be to which the delight adheres, more obHquely, 
 and throiigh several things that may be intermediate unto 
 that final and ultimate object. 
 
 And both these may fitly be understood to be withiu the 
 meaning of this text ; which, therefore, we shall now consider 
 apart and severally, though both of them very briefly. 
 
 And we begin with the latter of them. For though the 
 former have, in some respect, an excellency in it above the 
 latter, yet, as the progress of nature in other creatures is by 
 way of ascent from what is more imperfect to what is per- 
 fecter and more excellent, so is it with the communicated 
 Divine nature in the new creature, which puts itself forth, 
 first in more imperfect operations, the buddings, as it were, 
 of that tree of life which hath its more florid blossoms, and 
 at length its ripe and fragrant fruit afterwards ; or, to come 
 nearer the case, inasmuch as the latter sort of delight, ac- 
 cording to the order wherein we before mentioned them, hath 
 more in it of the exercise of spiritual sense, the other more of 
 spiritual reason, — since human creatures, that have natures
 
 104 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 capable of both sorts of functions, do first exercise sense, and 
 by a slower and more gradual process, come on to acts of 
 ratiocination afterwards, — so it is bere : the sotd in which the 
 Divine life hath taken place doth first exercise itself in 
 spiritual sensations ; so that though, in the matter of delight, 
 it is not destitute of the grateful relishes of things truly and 
 spiritually delectable, yet the more formed and designed acts 
 of holy delectation, in the highest object thereof, distinctly 
 apprehended and pitched u^pon for that purpose, do follow in 
 their season ; and these are preparations, and the essays of 
 the new creature, gradually and more indistinctly putting 
 forth itself in order thereto, — the embryos of the other. 
 
 If, therefore, it be inquired wherein the delight of this 
 more imperfect sort doth consist ? I answer, in the soul's 
 sensation and relish of sweetness in the holy, quickening 
 communications of God unto it, by which he first forms it for 
 himself ; and in the operations which it is hereby enabled to 
 put forth towards him, while it is in the infancy or childhood 
 of its Christian state. Nor, while we say the delight of this 
 kind doth more properly belong to the younger and more 
 immature state of Christianity, do we thereby intend wholly to 
 appropriate or confine it to that state. For as when a child 
 is grown up to the capacity of exercising reason, it doth not 
 then give over to use sense, but continues the exercise of it also 
 in its advdt state, even as long as the person lives ; only, in 
 its infancy and childhood its life is more entii'ely a Kfe of sense, 
 though there are early buddings of reason, that soon come to 
 be intermingled therein ; notwithstanding which, the prin- 
 ciple that rules and is more in exercise, more fitly gives 
 the denomination ; — so it is in this case also ; that is, 
 though there are sensations of delight and pleasure in reli- 
 gion, — yea, and those more quick, confirmed, and strong in 
 more grown Christians, — yet these sensations are more single 
 and unaccompanied, though not altogether, with the exercise 
 of spiritual reason and judgment, and do less come in that 
 way with Christians in their minority, than with others or 
 themselves afterwards.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 105 
 
 Therefore, that which we are to understand ourselves 
 called to under the name of delighting in God, thus taken, is, 
 — the keeping of our souls open to Divine influences and com- 
 munications ; thirsting after them, praying and waiting for 
 them; endeavouring to improve them and co-operate with 
 them, and to stir up ourselves xmto such exercises of religion 
 as they lead to, and are most suitable to our present state ; 
 together with an allowing, yea, and applying ourselves to 
 stay and taste, in our progress and course, the sweetness and 
 dehghtfulness of those communications and operations whereof 
 we have any present experience. 
 
 For instance, when we find God at work with us, and 
 graciously dealing with our spirits, to himible them, break 
 and melt them mider a sense of sin, incline and turn them 
 towards himself, di'aw them to a closure with his Son the 
 lledeemer, to a resignation and surrender of ourselves to him, 
 upon the terms of his covenant and law of grace : yea, and 
 when afterwards we find him framing our hearts to a course 
 of holy walking and conversation ; to the denial of ungodli- 
 ness and worldly lusts ; to a sober, righteous, and godly life 
 in this present world ; to the exercises of piety, sobriety, 
 righteousness, charity, mercy, etc. ; and now this or the like 
 heavenly dictate occurs to us, " DeKght thyself in the Lord," 
 — what doth it import ? what must we imderstand it to say 
 or signify to us? Though this that hath been mentioned, 
 and which we are now saying, is not all that it signifies — 
 as will be shown hereafter — yet thus much we must 
 understand it doth signify and say to us, ' Thy only 
 true delights are to be found in a course of religion : 
 they are not to be expected from this world, or thy 
 former sinful course, but in exercising thyself unto god- 
 liness, in receiving and complying with the Divine dis- 
 coveries, recommended to thee in the gospel, and, through 
 them, the influences of life and grace which readily flow in 
 upon any soul that hungers and thirsts after righteousness ; 
 and by which thou mayst be framed in all things after the 
 good, and holy, and acceptable will of God. Herein thou 
 
 F 3
 
 106 A TKEATISE [part i. 
 
 shalt find such pleasures and delights entertaining thy soul, 
 as that thou wilt have no cause to envy wicked men their 
 sensual delights, which they tuid in their sinful way ; — if 
 thou wilt but observe what thou fijidest, and exercise thy 
 sense to discern between good and evil, and set thyself to 
 consider whether there be not as well more satisfying as 
 purer relishes of pleasure, in mortifying the flesh with the 
 affections and lusts thereof, in denying thyself, in dying to 
 this world, in living to God, in minding the things of 
 another world ; in giving up thyself to the several exercises of 
 a holy life, — watching, praying, meditating, etc. ; in trusting 
 in the Lord with aU thy heart, and in doing all the good 
 thou canst in thy place and station, " letting thy light so 
 shine before men, that they, seeing thy good works, may 
 glorify thy Father which is in heaven ; " in contentment with 
 what thou enjoyest, and patience under what thou sufferest, 
 in this world ; in doing justice, loving righteousness, and 
 walking humbly with thy God ; — than ever the vanishing 
 pleasures of sin did or can afford.' 
 
 Thus into these two things may all be summed up which 
 delighting in God imports, according to this notion of it ; 
 The appl}dng ourselves to those things, by the help of God's 
 own communicated influence, — which in that case will not be 
 Avithheld, — whei'ein the matter of delight lies ; and the re- 
 flecting upon the things themselves that are so delightful, 
 and setting oui'selves to discern, and tasting actually the 
 delectableness of them. And surely, if such words, " DeKght 
 thyself in the Lord," do say to us all this, they do not say 
 nothing ; nor say anything impertinent, either to their own 
 native import, or oiu' state and condition in this world. 
 
 But here it may be objected : ' If we so interpret delight- 
 ing in God, we shall by this means bring the whole of religion, 
 and all sorts of actions that are governed and directed by it, 
 within the compass of this one thing ; and make delighting 
 in God swallow up all that belongs to a Christian, and be 
 the same thing with repentance, faith, self-denial, humility, 
 meekness, patience, etc. ;— which would, sure, seem too much
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTIXG IN GOD. 107 
 
 to be comprehended under tlie name of one particular lioly 
 action or affection, especially tliat they should be called 
 delighting in God, when, in the exercise of divers of these, 
 God may possibly not be in that instant actually so much as 
 thought on.' To this it may be sufficiently answered : — 
 
 First, That these things cannot be hence said, with any 
 pretence, to be made the same thing with delighting in God, 
 but only that there is a delight adhering to all these ; no 
 more than it can be said, when, at some splendid treat or 
 entertainment, there is a great variety of delicious meats and 
 wine, which do therefore all agree in this, that they are 
 delectable, that all these dishes and liquors are therefore one 
 and the same. Or, if the master of the feast call upon his 
 guests to delight themselves mth him, their friend, — as here 
 the particle in the text, which we read " delight thyself in the 
 Lord," may be read "delight thyself u-ifh him," — and he 
 explains himself, that he means by tasting this and that and 
 another sort of his provisions, and eating and drinking cheer- 
 fully thereof; surely his words coidd not with more reason 
 than ci\ality be capable of that snarling reply, That, therefore, 
 it seems, he thought the things themselves or their tastes and 
 relishes were all one ; for though they aU afford delight, yet 
 each of a different kind. 
 
 Secondly, But are not all these truly delectable ? Is there 
 not a real delight to be had in them ? Let any man that 
 hath tried, consult his experience ; yea, let any one that hath 
 not besotted his soul and infatuated his understanding, but 
 seriously consider the very ideas of these things, and revolve 
 the notions of them in his mind, and then soberly judge 
 whether they be not delightful. And if so, when there is an 
 actual sense of pleasure and sweetness in the communicated 
 power, and in the practice of them, why is not this delighting 
 in God ? Admit that he is not actually thought on in some 
 of these exercises, — as when I freely forgive a wrong, or 
 relieve a distressed person, or right a wronged one, — if yet 
 I do these things from the radical principle of the love of 
 God deeply settled in my soul, and -u-ith a sensible deHght
 
 108 A TREATISE [pAHT I. 
 
 accompanying my act, and the disposition I find in my heart 
 thereunto ; here is not, it is true, the very act of deKghting 
 in God formally terminated upon him as the object, but it is 
 he that gives me this delight, and is the material object, as 
 well as author, of it. The communication is from him 
 whereby I am delighted, and enabled to do the things that 
 are fm-ther delightful; — as, if I converse with an excellent 
 person, my intimate friend, who is at this time incognito, and 
 by a disguise conceals himself from me, or I, through my 
 forgetfulness or inadvertency, have no present thoughts of 
 this person, but I hear his pleasant discourse, and am much 
 taken with it, and the person on the account of it, — it is 
 my friend that I dehghted in all this while, though I knew 
 it not. 
 
 Thirdly, And what fault can I find in the matter, that 
 Divine delight thus runs and spreads itself through the whole 
 business of religion, and all the affairs whereon it hath any 
 influence? Is this the worse, or the better? Have I any 
 cause to quarrel at this ? Sure I have not. But if I have not 
 such actual thoughts of God as may give me the advantage of 
 terminatiag my delight more directly on him, that may be 
 very much my own fault. 
 
 Fom'thly, And what ! is that an absurdity, that, under the 
 name of delighting in God, the several acts and exercises of 
 reKgion besides should be comprehended? How often in 
 Scriptm*e are other, no more eminent, parts of religion put 
 for the whole ! ' The knowledge of God,' ' calling upon God,' 
 'the fear of God,' etc., — ^how commonly are these things 
 acknowledged to be paraphrases of religion ! And shall I 
 not add, the love of God, — that most authentic and owned 
 summary of all practical religion, and which ought to in- 
 fluence all our actions ? And then how far are we from our 
 mark? "What is the difierence between loving God and 
 delighting in him ? But I moreover add, that delight itself 
 in him cannot but be so taken in that sharp passage (though 
 misapplied to the person of whom it was meant), "For Job 
 hath said. What profit is it that a man should delight himself
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 109 
 
 with. God?"^ that is, 'or be religious?' It fitly enough, 
 signifies religion, as thus modified or qualified, — namely, as 
 having this quality belonging to it, that it is delightful, or is 
 tinctured with delight in God. 
 
 But this, so large, is not the only sense, as we have said, 
 wherein we are to take "deKghting in God," And when 
 any part of religion casts its name upon the whole, it would 
 be very unreasonable to exclude the part from which the 
 denomination is taken, or not to make that the principal 
 thing there meant, We therefore proceed to speak, — 
 
 Of the more explicit delight in God : and shall therein 
 consider the nature and modification of it. 
 
 1. Its nature ; which, from what hath been said of delight 
 in the general, with the addition of holiness thereto (which is 
 the work of God's Spirit, determining the act or faculty to 
 which it adheres towards God), may be conceived thus, — 
 That it is the acquiescence or rest of the soul in God, by a 
 satisfiedness of will in him, as the best and most excellent 
 good. That it be the rest of the soul, belongs to its general 
 nature. And so doth the mentioned kind of rest, more dis- 
 tinguishingly, by the will's satisfiedness in him ; because the 
 soul may be also said to rest satisfied, in respect of another 
 /acvdty, by the mere knowledge of truth ; but this supposes 
 so much of that also as is necessary. And because the acts of 
 the xmderstanding are subservient and in order to those of the 
 will, in the soul's pursuit of a delightful good, which is so 
 far attaiaed as it actually deKghts therein, therefore this may 
 more simply be called the rest of the whole soul, whereas 
 that other is its rest but in some respect only ; especially 
 when we add, as in the best and most excellent good: for 
 this signifies the good wherein it rests to be ultimate, and its 
 last end, the very period of its piu-suits, beyond which it 
 neither needs nor desires to go farther, — namely, as to the 
 kind and nature of the good which it is now intent upon ; 
 though it still desire more of the same, till there be no place 
 
 ^ Job xxxiv. 9.
 
 110 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 left for further desire, but it wholly cease and end in full 
 satisfaction. And that we may speak somewhat more parti- 
 cularly of this rest in God : it supposes, — 
 
 (1.) Knowledge of him; that the soul be weU furnished 
 with such conceptions of his nature and attributes, as that it 
 may be trvJy said to be himself it delights in, and not another 
 thing ; — not an idol of its own fancy, and which its imagina- 
 tion hath created and set up to it instead of God. Therefore 
 his own representation of himself must be our measure ; 
 which being forsaken, or not so diligently attended to, he is 
 either by some misrepresented, according as their own cor- 
 rupt hearts do suggest impure thoughts, and made altogether 
 such a one as themselves, and such as cannot be the object of 
 a pure and spiritual delight ; or by others, as their guilt and 
 fear do suggest to them black and direful thoughts of him, 
 rendered such as that he cannot be the object of any delight 
 at all. 
 
 (2.) It supposes actual thoughts of him : " My soul shall be 
 satisfied as with marrow and fatness, .... when I re- 
 member thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the 
 night-watches." ^ 
 
 (3.) A pleasedness with even the first view or apprehension 
 of him ; which is most essential to any love to him, and which 
 gives rise to any motion of, — 
 
 (4.) Desire directed towards him, upon the apprehension 
 that somewhat is absent, either of what is due to him, or 
 lacking to ourselves from him. 
 
 (5.) It includes the satis/action or repose itself which the 
 soul hath, so far as it finds its desire answered in the one 
 kind or the other : where we must more distinctly know that 
 the delight taken in him is according as the desire is which 
 works towards him ; and that as our lore to him is. Now we 
 love him either for liimself, or for our ownselves : — 
 
 For himself, ultimately, so as that our love periods in him, 
 and stays there, — ^namely, on him as good in himself. 
 
 1 Ps. Ixiii. 5, 6.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. Ill 
 
 For ourselves ; as when our loA^e to him returns upon our- 
 selves, apprehending a goodness in him which is suitable for 
 our enjojonent. Loving him in the former way we desire all 
 may be ascribed and given to hun that possibly may or can. 
 And because we know him to be every way perfect and fidl, 
 and that nothing can be added to him of real perfection, and 
 therefore nothing can be given him besides external honour 
 ' and acknowledgments, we therefore desire these may be uni- 
 versally rendered him to the very uttermost. And as far as 
 we find him worthily glorified, admired, and had in honour, 
 so far we have delight in, or in reference to, him ; consisting 
 in the gratification of that desii-e. Loving him in the other 
 way, — which also we are not only allowed, but obKged to do, 
 in contradistinction to all creatiu^e good, — we desire his nearer 
 presence and converse, more full communications of his light, 
 grace, and consolations ; and are delighted according as we 
 find such desire is answered imto us. 
 
 (6.) The form of expression used in the text impKes also a 
 stirring iqj ourselves, and the use of endeavours with our own 
 hearts, to foment, heighten, and raise oiu' own delight : the 
 conjugation — as it is thought fit to be called — into which the 
 word is put, importing, by a peculiarity of expressiveness 
 belonging to the sacred language, action upon one's self; 
 which must also be understood to have the same force in 
 reference to that former sense of delighting in God — that is, 
 that we put ovu^selves uj)on these acts and exercises whereunto 
 such delight is adjoined. These things are now more cur- 
 sorily mentioned, because there wiR be occasion more at 
 large to insist on them in the discourse of the practice of this 
 duty, reserved to the Second Part. 
 
 2. "VVe now proceed to the modification of this deKght in 
 God, or the right manner or measui-e of it : concerning 
 which it is apparent in the general it can be no further right 
 than as it is agreeable to its object. That our delight should 
 ever be adequate, or of a measm-e equal to it, is plainly 
 impossible ; but it must be some way suitable, or must bear 
 proportion to it. I shall here mention but two — and those
 
 112 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 very eminent — respects wherein it must do so ; namely, in 
 respect of the excellency and the permanency of the good to 
 be delighted in : — 
 
 (1.) The excellency of it. Inasmuch as it is the best and 
 highest good, it plainly challenges our highest delight : that 
 is, the highest delight simply, which our natures are capable 
 of, is most apparently due to the blessed God, even by the 
 law of nature itself, resulting from our natures, referred 
 unto his : and, as the case stands under the gospel, the 
 highest delight comparatively ; that is, higher than we take 
 in. anything else ; — nothing must be so much delighted in as 
 he. We do not otherwise delight in him as God ; which is 
 one way of glorifying him. And it is part of the apostle's 
 charge upon the pagan world, that " knowing him to be God, 
 they did not glorify him as God." 
 
 If we make the comparison between him and all the good 
 things of this world, the matter is out of question. It is 
 the sense of holy souls, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? 
 and whom can I desire on earth besides thee?"^ When 
 others say, " "V\'Tio wiU show us any good?" they say, 
 " Lord, lift thou up the light of thy countenance ;" and 
 thereby he " puts gladness into their hearts, more than when 
 corn and wine increase." " And " whosoever love not Christ 
 more than father, mother, wife, child, yea, and their own 
 lives, cannot be his disciples."^ Their present worldly life 
 itself, if put in the balance, he must outweigh. 
 
 And if we put the comparison between our spiritual, 
 eternal life and him ; though he and that can never be in 
 opposition, — as there may be often an opposition between him 
 and this present life, so that the one is often quitted for the 
 other, — yet neither is there a co-ordination, but the less 
 worthy must be subordinate to the more worthy. We are to 
 desire the enjoyment of him for his onii glory. And yet here 
 is a strange and admirable complication of these with one 
 another. For if we enjoy him, delight and rest ia him, as 
 
 ^ Ps. Ixxiii. 25. - Ps. iv. 6, 7. ^ j\Iatt. x. 37 ; Luke xiv. 26.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIOirriNG IX GOD. 113 
 
 our best and most satisfjdng good, we thereby glorify him as 
 God, — we give liim practically highest acknowledgments, we 
 confess him the most excellent One. It is his glory to be the 
 last term of all desires, and beyond which no reasonable 
 desire can go farther. 
 
 And if we seek and desire his glory supremely, sincerely, 
 and really, beyond and above all things, — when he is so glori- 
 fied to the uttermost, or we are assured he will be, our highest 
 desire is so far satisfied ; and that turns to, or is, our own con- 
 tentment. So that by how much more simply and sincerely we 
 pass from and go out of ourselves, so much the more certainly 
 we find our own satisfaction, rest, and full blessedness in him. 
 As it is impossible the soul that loves him above itself can be 
 fully happy while he hath not his full glory ; so it is for the 
 same reason equally impossible but it must be so when he 
 hath. 
 
 (2.) Our delight must be suitable to the object, — the good 
 to be delighted in, — in respect of the permanency of it. This 
 is the most durable and lasting good. In this blessed object, 
 therefore, we are to " rejoice evermore."^ As in the matter 
 of trust, we are required to "trust in the Lord for ever," 
 because "in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength,"- — 
 everlasting strength gives sufiicient ground for everlasting 
 trust ; so it is in the matter of delight ; a permanent, 
 everlasting excellency is not answered but by a continual and 
 everlasting delight. Therefore is it most justly said, " Re- 
 joice in the Lord alway; and again I say, Rejoice,"^ — alway, 
 and still on. If through a long tract of time you have been 
 constantly alway rejoicing in the Lord, begin again ; I again 
 say to you, 'Rejoice,' or rather never give over. The object 
 will warrant and justify the act, let it be drawn forth to 
 never so vast a length of time. You will still find a 
 continual spring, unexhausted fulness, — a fountain never to 
 be drawn dry. There will never be cause of diversion with 
 this pretence, that now this object will yield no more, — it is 
 
 ' 1 Thess. V. 16. - Isa. xxvi. 4. 3 ^hW. iv. 4.
 
 114 A TREATISE [part i. 
 
 drained to the uttermost, and is now become an empty and 
 gustless thing. 
 
 With other things it may be so ; and therefore onr delight 
 doth not answer the natures of such things, but when we 
 "rejoice in them as if we rejoiced not,"^ they are as if they 
 were not. AH the things of this world are so; for "even 
 the fashion of this world passeth away," as it is afterwards 
 added.2 Therefore no delight can fitly be taken in them, but 
 what is volatile and unfixed as they are, lest otherwise it 
 over-reach and run beyond its object. And how absurd and 
 vain is it to have our hearts set upon that which is not, that 
 takes wing and leaves us in the dii-t ! This object of deHght 
 is the * I AM, yesterday and to-day the same, and for ever ; 
 without variableness and shadow of change.' Therefore the 
 natiu'e of it cannot allow us a reason wherefore, if we be 
 delighted therein yesterday, we should not to-day; or if 
 to-day, why not to-morrow, and so on to for ever. ^^Tience, 
 then, we may see no one can say he hath answered the 
 import of this exhortation, "Delight thyself in the Lord," 
 by having dehghted in him at some time. It is continual as 
 well as highest delight we are here called to. We see, then, 
 thus far what we are called to, when we are here directed to 
 delight ourselves in the Lord. 
 
 Secondly, We are next to show how we are called to it. 
 And the matter itself will answer the inquiry. We are 
 called to it according to what in itself it is. Now, it is both 
 a privilege and a duty. We are therefore called to it, and 
 accordingly are to understand the Avords, — 
 
 1. By way of gracious invitation to partake of a privilege 
 which our blessed Lord would have us share and be happy in ; 
 no longer to spend ourselves in anxious pursuits and vain 
 expectations of rest where it is not to be found, but that we 
 retire ourselves to Him in whom we shall be sure to find it. 
 Pity and mercy invite us here to place our delight, and take 
 
 1 1 Cor. v-ii. 30. - Ver. 31.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 115 
 
 up oui- rest. And concerning this there is no question or 
 imaginable doubt. 
 
 2. By way of authoritative command; for we must know 
 that deKght in God is to be considered not only under the 
 notion of a privilege unto which we may esteem ourselves 
 entitled, but also of a diiti/ whereto we are most indispensably 
 obliged. This is a thing not so much not understood, as not 
 considered and seriously thought on, by very many ; and the 
 not considering it proves no small disadvantage to the life of 
 reHgion. It occurs to very many, more familiarly, under the 
 notion of a high favour and a great vouchsafement, — as indeed 
 it is, — that God will allow any of the sons of men to place 
 their delights in himself; but they at least seem to think it is 
 only the privilege of some special favourites, of whom, because 
 they perhaps are conscious they have no cause to reckon 
 themselves, they are therefore very secure in the neglect of it. 
 And thus is the pretence of modesty and humihty very often 
 made an umbrage and shelter to the vile carnahty of many a 
 heart ; and a want of fitness is pretended and cherished at the 
 same time as an excuse. But whereas they do not delight in 
 God, they never may ; for he that is unfit to-day, and never 
 therewithal applies himself with seriousness to the endeavour 
 of becoming fit, is likely to be more unfit to-morrow, and so 
 be as much excused always as now ; and by the same means 
 at length excuse himself from being happy, but never from 
 having been the author of his own misery. But what ! is it 
 indeed no duty to love God ? Is that become no duty which 
 is the very sum and comprehension of all duties ? Or, can 
 they be said to love him, that take no pleasure in him, — that 
 is, to love him -wdthout loving him ? It is, indeed, wonderful 
 grace that there should be such a contexture of our happiness 
 and duty ; that, by the same thing wherein we are obedient, 
 we also become immediately, in the same degree, blessed ; and 
 that the law of God in this case hath this very import, — an 
 obligation upon us to blessedness. But, in the mean time, we 
 should not forget that God's authority and honour are con-
 
 116 A TREATISE [part I. 
 
 cerned herein, as it is our duty ; as well as our own happiness, 
 as it is our p^^ivilege ; and that we cannot injure ourselves in 
 this matter without also robbing God. 
 
 Delight in God is a great piece of homage to him, — a 
 practical acknowledgment of his sovereign excellency, and 
 perfect, all-comprehending goodness. When we retire from 
 aU the world to him, Ave confess him better than all things 
 besides ; that we have none in heaven or earth that we esteem 
 worthy to be compared with him. But when our hearts are 
 averse to him, and wiU not be brought to delight in him, 
 since there is somewhat in the meanwhile wherein we do 
 delight, we do as much as say, — yea, we more significantly 
 express it than by saying, — that, whatever that is, it is better 
 than he ; yea, that such a thing is good, and he is not. For 
 as not believing him is a denial of his truth, — the making him 
 a liar, — not delighting in him, is equally a denial of his 
 goodness, and consequently even of his Godhead itself. 
 
 And since we find the words are here laid down plainly in 
 a preceptive form, " Delight thyself in the Lord," can any 
 think themselves after this at liberty to do so or not ? It is 
 true that they who are in no disposition hereto have somewhat 
 else to do in order to that, (of which hereafter) ; but, in the 
 mean time, how forlorn is their case who have nothing to 
 excuse their sin by but sin ! and who, instead of extenuating 
 their guilt, do double it ! 
 
 Yea, and we are further to consider, that it is not only 
 commanded by a mere simple precept, but that this precept 
 hath its solemn sanction ; and that not only by promise here 
 expressly annexed (of which hereafter), but also of implied 
 threatening, that we shall not else have the desires of our 
 hearts, but be necessarily imsatisfied and miserable, — which 
 is also in many other places expressed plauily enough. Great 
 penalty is due upon not delighting in God, even by the 
 gospel- constitution itself ; which is not so unreasonably formed 
 as to require more in this matter than is suitable to the object 
 itself, and is framed so indulgently as to accept much less 
 than is proportionable thereto, and yet within the capacity
 
 PART I.J OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 117 
 
 also of a reasonable soul. So that, though, the very nature of 
 the thing doth plainly dictate a rule by which this matter is 
 to be estimated and judged, yet this other rule gives con- 
 siderable abatement and allowance ; — that is, it being con- 
 sidered what the object claims and challenges as by its own 
 proper excellency due to it, and what the subject is, by its 
 own nature, capable of, not only doth it hence appear that 
 delight in God is a duty, but that the soul ought to rise to 
 that highest pitch of delight in him, — that is, unto the 
 highest the soul is naturally capable of. The very law of 
 nature, resulting from the reference and comparison of our 
 nature unto God's own, requires so much, that we love, or 
 delight in him, " with all our heart, with all our mind, with 
 all our might, and with all our strength." He deserves from 
 us our very uttermost. Yet this is by the gospel- constitution 
 reqtdred with indidgence and abatement, not as to the matter 
 required, but as to the manner of requiring it. The matter 
 required is still the same, so as that the purest and highest 
 delight in God doth not cease to be a duty, or any gradual 
 defect thereof cease to be a sin. The gospel doth make no 
 change of the natures of things ; — makes nothing cease to be 
 due to God from us which the law of nature made due ; nor 
 renders any defect innocent which is in its own nature 
 culpable and faulty. Therefore the same pitch of delight in 
 God is still due and required that ever was. But that 
 perfection is not, finally and without relief, required in the 
 same manner and on the same terms it was ; that is, it is not 
 by the gospel required under remediless penalty, as it was. 
 For the law of nature, though it made not a remedy simply 
 impossible, yet it provided none ; but the gospel provides one. 
 Yet not so but the same penalty also remains in itself due 
 and deserved which was before. For as the gospel takes not 
 away the dueness of any part or degree of that obedience 
 which we did owe to God naturally, so nor doth it take away 
 the natural dueness of punishment for disobedience in any 
 kind or degree of it. Only it provides that (upon the very 
 valuable consideration which it makes known) it becomes to
 
 118 A. TREATISE [part i. 
 
 US a remissible debt, and actually remitted to tbem who come 
 up to the terms of it. Not that it should be in itself no 
 debt, for then nothing were remitted ; nor yet, when it so 
 provides for the remission of defects in this part of our 
 duty, doth it remit the substance of the duty itself, or pardon 
 any defects of it to any but such who are found sincere in 
 this, as well as the other parts of that obedience which we 
 owe. Others, who, after so gracious overtures, remain at 
 their former distance, and retain their aversion, enmity, and 
 disaffection to God, it more grievously, and most justly, 
 threatens and punishes as implacable, and who will upon no 
 terms return into a state of friendship and amity with their 
 Maker, whom they hated without cause, and do now continue 
 strangers and enemies to him without excuse ; so that the 
 very blood of the reconciling Sacrifice cries against them.-^ 
 
 And surely since, as was formerly said, it is God in Christ 
 that is the entire object of this delight or love, it is a fearful 
 penalty that is determined upon them that do not so place it, 
 when it is said, " If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 let him be Anathema Maran-atha."^ And when also it is 
 said, " Grace be upon all them that do,"^ it is plainly implied 
 that the penalty belongs to all them that do not, " love him 
 in sincerity." Of which sincerity therefore of delight in 
 God — to keep within the compass of our present theme — it 
 is necessary we be well informed ; as we may be from what 
 hath been said before ; that is, — 
 
 (1.) That we dehght in him supremely, and above all things 
 else — namely, with our highest and deepest complacency of 
 ■will. For it is not necessary, nor ordinarily possible, that our 
 delight in him should be ever accompanied with such sensible 
 agitation of the corporeal spii'its as we find in reference to 
 merely sensible objects : which is not essential to such 
 delight, but an accident that follows union with the body ; 
 and more frequently, and to a greater degree, in some tempers 
 of body than others. But it is necessary there be that 
 
 » Heb. X. 24. 2 1 Cor. xvi. 22. 3 Eph. xi. 24.
 
 PART I.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 119 
 
 practical estimation of him, and propension towards him, as 
 the best and most excellent good, as that we be in a prepara- 
 tion of mind and heart to forego whatever can come into any 
 competition with him for his sake ; that though we do not 
 thus delight in him so much as we shoiild, yet we do more 
 than in anything eke. 
 
 (2.) That we continue herein ; that this be the constant, 
 habitual temper of our spirits towards him ; that we cleave 
 to him with purpose of heart, as not only the most excellent, 
 but the most permanent object of our delight, having settled 
 the resolution with ourselves, " This God shall be our God for 
 ever and ever ; he shall be our God and guide even imto 
 death ;"^ and that there be frequent actual workings of heart 
 towards him agreeable to such a temper, though they are not 
 so frequent as they ought. 
 
 Which account we give of this sincerity of dehght in God, 
 not to encourage any to take up wdth the lowest degree of 
 that sincerity, but that none may be encouraged, upon their 
 own mistake in this matter, to take up with anything short 
 of it : and that we may see whence to take our rise in 
 aiming at the highest pitch thereof: and that we may, 
 understanding the highest intenseness and most constant 
 exercise of delight in God that ovir natures are capable of, to 
 be our duty, imderstand also, that, in reference to our gradual 
 defects and intermissions herein, we ought to be deeply 
 humbled, as being faulty ; not unconcerned, as though we 
 were innocent in this regard ; that we need continual pardon 
 upon these accounts ; that we owe it to the blood of the 
 Redeemer that such things can be pardoned ; that we are 
 not to reckon, or ever to expect that blood shoidd stand us in 
 stead to obtain our pardon for never delighting in God 
 sincerely at all, but only, supposing we do it sincerely, that 
 we do it not inrfectJy, — for most certainly, they whose hearts 
 are never turned to him as their best and most sovereign 
 Good or Portion, and Ruler or Lord, but do still remain 
 
 I ^ Ps. xlviii. 14.
 
 120 A TREATISE [r.VRT n. 
 
 " alienated in their minds, and enemies through wicked 
 works," will perish notwithstanding : and that we might the 
 more distinctly, together with the apprehension of what we 
 are called to in this matter, understand also how we are 
 called to it — that is, not by an invitation only, that leaves us 
 at liberty whether we will or will not, as we think fit ; but 
 by express command, and that also backed with the severe 
 determination of most dreadful penalty in case of omission. 
 
 And thus we have in some measure shown the import of 
 the direction in the text, — that we " delight ourselves in the 
 Lord." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CONCERNING THE PRACTICE OF DELIGHT IN GOD. 
 
 We have in the former Part extended the meaning of the 
 words " Delight thyself in the Lord," beyond what they 
 seem at first sight Kterally to signify : so as not to under- 
 stand them merely as requiring that very single act of delight 
 to be immediately and directly terminated on God himself, 
 but to take them as comprehending also the sum of all holy 
 and religious converse with Ood, that is, as it is deKghtful, or 
 as it is seasoned — intermingled and as it were besprinkled 
 — with delight ; and, upon the same accomit, of all om' other 
 converse, so far as it is influenced by religion. 
 
 And, I doubt not, to such as shall attentively have consi- 
 dered what hath been said, it will be thought very reasonable 
 to take them in that latitude ; whereof the very letter of the 
 text, as may be alleged for further justification hereof, is 
 most fitly capable. For — as was noted upon another text, 
 where we have the same phrase — the particle which we read 
 " in the Lord," hath not that signification alone, but signifies 
 also ivith, or by, or besides, or before, or in presence of: as if it 
 had been said, ' Come and sit down with God ; retire thyself
 
 PAET II.] OF llELIGHTIXG IX GOD. 121 
 
 to him, and solace thyself in the delights which are to be 
 found in his presence and converse, in walking with him, and 
 transacting thy course as before him, and in his sight.' As a 
 man may be said to delight himsdlf with a friend, that puts 
 himself under his roof, and, besides personal converse with 
 himself freely enjoys the pleasure of all the entertainments, 
 accommodations, and provisions, which he is freely willing to 
 communicate ^\dth him, and hath the satisfaction which a 
 sober person would take in observing the rules and order of a 
 well-governed house. 
 
 According to this diverse import of the precept enjoining 
 this duty, it will be requisite to speak diversely of the practice 
 of the duty itself; that is, that we treat of tJie practice and 
 exercise of delight ; — 1. As a thing adherent to the other duties 
 of religion ; and, 2. As it is a distinct dufy of itself — 
 
 First, As to the former, our business will be to treat of 
 the exercise of religion as delightful. Now religion is delight- 
 ful naturally and in itself; and makes a man's other actions, 
 even that are not in themselves acts of religion, delightful 
 also, so far as they are governed and influenced by it, if that 
 religion be true — that is, if it be living, such as proceeds 
 from a principle of divine life. Being, therefore, now to 
 treat of the practice of this duty — whereof the account hath 
 been already given — our discourse must aim at and endeavour 
 these two things, the former as leading and subservient to 
 the latter — namely, that we may not take up, and rest or let 
 our practice terminate in a religion which is not naturally 
 and in itself delightful ; and, that we seek after and improve 
 in that which is. 
 
 First, That religion which is not so, we have great reason 
 not to acquiesce in, or be contented with, for it is plainly 
 such as will not defray itself, or bear its own charges, as 
 having only cumber and burden in it, no use or end ; I mean 
 the dead formality of religion only. We find it natural and 
 pleasant to carry about with us our own living body ; bvit 
 who woidd endure (how wearisome and loathsome a task 
 were it !) to lug to and fro a dead carcass ? It will be upon 
 
 VOL. II. G
 
 122 A TREATISE [fart ii. 
 
 this account needful to insist in showing more distinctly, 
 what sort of religion it is that is in itself wholly undelightful, 
 and propound some things to consideration concerning it that 
 may tend to beget a dislike of it, and so incline us to look 
 farther : — 
 
 1. That we may know what we are not to take up with ; 
 because our present subject confines us to this one measure of 
 religion, that it be delightful, it will be proper to limit our 
 discourse to this character only of the rehgion we are to pass 
 from as vain and worthless, namely, that which is without 
 delight ; which it also will be sufficient to insist on to our 
 present purpose. For since, as hath been largely shown, 
 the delightfulness of the religion which is true and living is 
 intrinsical and most natural to it, it will therefore be certainly 
 consequent, — that which is not delightful is dead, and can 
 serve for nothing. 
 
 And yet here it "svill be necessary, for caution, to insert, — 
 
 (1.) That even such religion as is true and living, and con- 
 sequently in itself delightful, yet may by accident sometimes 
 not appear to be thought so ; because either variety of 
 occasions may divert from minding, or some imbittering 
 distemper of spirit may hinder the present relishing of that 
 pleasure which is tridy in it. As a man may eat and feed on 
 that Avhich is very savouiy and good, and yet, though his 
 taste be not vitiated, but because he reflects not, may not 
 every moment have that present apprehension that it is so ; 
 much more if the organs of taste be under a present dis- 
 temper. But if they be not so, any one's asking him how 
 he likes that dish, — because that occasions a more express 
 animadversion, — will also draw from him an acknowledgment 
 that it is pleasant and savoury. 
 
 (2.) That a dead religion may be thought delightful ; and, 
 through the ill temper of the subject, a pleasui-e may be 
 apprehended in it which doth not naturally arise from it ; 
 that is, the mere external part of religion may be flexible, 
 and be accidentally perverted into a subserviency to some 
 purposes which religion of itself intends not ; in respect
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOO 123 
 
 whereof a deliglit may injuriously (and as by a rape) be 
 taken in it : as it is said by the prophet of a hypocritical 
 people, "Yet they seek me daily, and delight to know my 
 
 ways, as a nation that did righteousness ; they take 
 
 delight in approaching to God."^ 
 
 Therefore that Avhich is here intended is not that the 
 religion should be rejected in some present exercises whereof 
 we have not the actual relish of a present pleasure, as that 
 should not be embraced wherein upon any whatsoever terms 
 we find it ; but that which can rightfully, and upon just 
 terms, afford us none, and which, upon our utmost inquiry 
 and search, cannot in reason, — as it is not imfit that spiritual 
 reason should be employed in making a judgment what 
 may, — be thought spii'itually delectable. 
 
 We shall therefore, in some particular heads, give a short 
 account of such religion as rationally cannot but be judged 
 undelightful, or which hath not that in it which can yield 
 pleasure to a sound and well-complexioned spii'it ; but that if 
 any be taken therein, that very pleasure is so imnatui'al and 
 out of kind, as to be the argimient rather of a disease in the 
 subject than of any real goodness in the thing itself. 
 
 Whereunto we only premise this twofold general rule, 
 whereby an midue and vinnatural delight may be estimated 
 and judged of: — (1.) That such deKght may be justly 
 deemed imnatural which is taken in anything besides, and 
 with the neglect of, the proper use and end which it most 
 fitly serves for. (2.) Such as is accompanied with a real 
 hurt greater than the delight can countervail, or as is so far 
 from taking in profit and benefit in conjimction with it, as 
 that the damage and prejudice which it cannot recompense is 
 inseparable from it. "Which rules will be the more fitly 
 applicable to the present case ; for that — as hath been 
 formerly observed — the delight which accompanies the acts 
 and exercises of religion, or that flows from it, though it be 
 natural thereto, yet is not the only or chief end of those acts, 
 
 ' Isa. Iviii. 2. 
 
 , G 2
 
 12'! A TREATISE [pakt il. 
 
 but tliey have another more important end, unto the prosecu- 
 tion whereof by such acts delight is only adherent : whence 
 the delight cannot but be most preposterous and perverse 
 which is taken in such things as do either not serve the more 
 principal design of religion, or, much more, that are 
 repugnant and destructive of it. 
 
 By these rules we may plainly see what delight in the 
 general is to be accoiuited undue. As by the former ride we 
 would justly reckon that an undue delight which a man 
 should take in his food, if he only please himself with the 
 looking on the handsome garnishing of the dishes, which he 
 loathes in the mean tune and refuses to taste ; or which a 
 covetous miser takes in having wealth hoarded up, which he 
 is pleased often to view, and cannot endure to use. And by 
 the latter, that were most irrational deKght which in a fever 
 one should take in gratifying his distempered aj)petite, 
 whereby he doth not so much relieve nature as feed his 
 disease. 
 
 And so we may say that religion is undelightfid, — that is, 
 not duly delightful, — 
 
 (1.) Which consists wholly in revolving in one's own mind 
 the notions that belong to religion, ivithout either the experience 
 or the design and expectation of having the heart and conversa- 
 tion foDned according to thon. So the case is with such as 
 content themselves to yield the piinciples of religion true, 
 and behold with a notional assent and approbation the 
 connection and agreement of one thing with another, but do 
 never consider the tendency and aim of the whole, or that 
 the truth of the gospel is " the doctrine that is according to 
 godliness,"^ or such as is pursuant to the design of making 
 men godly, of transforming them into the image of God, and 
 framing them to an entire subjection to his holy and ac- 
 ceptable will ; that bethink not themselves the truth is never 
 learned as it is in Jesus, except it be to " the renewing the 
 spirit of the mind, the putting oif the old man, and the 
 
 1 1 Tim. \ri. 3.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGIITIXG IN GOD. 125 
 
 putting on of tlie new."^ When this is never considered, 
 but men do only know that they may know, and are never 
 concerned further about the great things of God than only 
 to take notice that such things there are offered to their view 
 which carry with them the appearance of truth, but mind 
 them no more than the affairs of Utopia, or the world in the 
 moon; Avhat delight is taken in this knowledge is surely 
 most perverse. There is a pleasure, indeed, in knowing 
 things, and in apprehending the coherence of one truth with 
 another; but he that shall allow himself to speculate only 
 about things wherein his life is concerned, and shall entertain 
 himself with delight in agitating in his mind certain curious 
 general notions concerning a disease or a crime that threatens 
 him with present death, or what might be a remedy or 
 defence in such a case, without any thought of applying such 
 things to his own case, or that the case is his own, — one may 
 say of such pleasure, * It is mad ; ' or of this delight, ' What 
 doth it?' Or he that only surfeits his eye with beholding 
 the food he is to live by, and who in the mean time languishes 
 in the want of appetite, and a sickly loathing of his proper 
 nutriment ; surely such a one hath a pleasure that no sober 
 man would think worth the having. 
 
 And the more any one doth onl// notionaJhj know in the 
 matters of religion, so as that the temper of his spirit remains 
 altogether unsuitable and opposite to the design and tendency 
 of the things known, the more he hath lying ready to come 
 in judgment against him : and if therefore he count the 
 things excellent which he knows, and only please himself 
 with his own knowledge of them, it is but a like case as 
 if a man should be much delighted to behold his own con- 
 demnation written in a fair and beautiful hand ; or as if one 
 should be pleased with the glittering of that sword which is 
 directed against his own heart, and must be the present 
 instrument of death to him : and so little pleasant is the case 
 of such a person in itself, who thus satisfies his own curiosity 
 
 1 Epli. iv. 22—24
 
 126 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 with the concernments of eternal life and death, that any 
 serious person would tremble on his behalf, at that wherein 
 he takes pleasure, and apprehend just horror in that state of 
 the case whence he draws matter of delight. 
 
 (2.) It is yet a more insipid and gustless religion which 
 too many place in some peculiar opinions, that are either fake 
 and contrary to religion, or doubtful and cumbersome to if, or 
 little and inconsiderable, and therefore certainly alien to it and 
 impertinent. For if that religion only be truly delightful 
 which hath a vital influence on the heart and practice — as 
 that must needs be indelectable which is only so notionally 
 conversant about the greatest truths as that it hath no sucli 
 influence, — much more is that so which is so wholly con- 
 versant about matters eitlier opposite or irrelative hereto, as 
 that it can have none. It must here be acknowledged that 
 some doctrines, not only not revealed in the word of God, but 
 which are contrary thereto, may, being thought true, occasion 
 the excitation of some inward afiection, and have an indirect 
 influence to the regulating of practice also, so as to repress 
 some grosser enormities : as the false notions of pagans con- 
 cerning the Deity, which have led them to idolatry, have 
 struck their minds with a certain kind of reverence of in- 
 visible powers, and perhaps rendered some more sober and 
 less vicious than had they been destitute of all religious 
 sentiments. 
 
 And yet the good which hath hence ensued is not to be 
 referred to the particular princijjles of idolatry, which were 
 false, but to the more general principles of religion, which were 
 true. Yea, and though such false principles, viewed alone 
 and by themselves, may possibly infer somewhat of good, yet 
 that is by accident only, and throiigh the short-sightedness 
 and ignorance of them with whom they obtain ; who, if they 
 did consider their incoherence mth other common notions 
 and principles most certainly true, would receive by them, if 
 thought the only principles of religion, so much the greater 
 hurt, and become so much the more hopelessly and incurably 
 wicked : as most manifestly the principles which, looked upon
 
 TART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 127 
 
 by themselves, while they are reckoned true, do lead to 
 idolatry, and consequently by that mistake only to some 
 religion, do yet, being really false, lead to atheism, and of 
 themselves tend to subvert and destroy all religion. There- 
 fore such doctrines as cohere not with the general frame of 
 truth, whatever their particular aspect may be, considered 
 apart and by themselves, are yet in their natural tendency 
 opposite and destructive to the true design of religion ; and 
 the pleasure which they can any way afford is only stolen 
 and vain ; such as a person takes in swallowing a potion 
 that is j)leasant, but which, if it perforin what belongs to it, 
 he must with many a sickly qualm refund and disgorge back 
 again. 
 
 We also acknowledge some truths of less imj)ortance may be 
 said to concern practice, though not so immediately. Nor is 
 it, therefore, the design of this discourse to derogate from any 
 such that are of apparently divine revelation or institution ; 
 which, however they justly be reckoned less than some other 
 things, yet for that very reason, as they are revealed by God 
 for such an end, are by no means to be esteemed little or 
 inconsiderable — be their subserviency to the great design of 
 religion never so remote. Upon the account of which sub- 
 serviency they are also to be esteemed delectable, — that is, in 
 proportion thereto ; but when they are so esteemed beyond 
 that proportion, and are exalted into an undue preference to 
 their very end itself, so as that, in comparison of them, the 
 great things of religion are reckoned low, frigid, sapless 
 things ; when men set their hearts upon them abstractly, and 
 without consideration of their reference and usefulness to the 
 greater things of religion, — the delight that is so taken in 
 them argues but the disease of the mind that takes it, and 
 so great a degree of dotage, that a serious person would 
 wonder how men can please themselves with such matters, 
 without considering, and with the neglect of, so great things 
 they have relation to. 
 
 (3.) And hither is to be referred the much less rational 
 pleasure which is taken by some in the mere dress wherewith
 
 128 A TREATISE [part n. 
 
 such notions and opinions may be artificially clothed by them- 
 selves or others ; rhetorical flourishes, a set of fine words, 
 handsome cadences and periods, fanciful representations, little 
 tricks and pieces of wit ; and, which cannot pretend so high, 
 pitifid quibbles and gingles, inversions of sentences, the 
 pedantic rhyming of words, yea, and an affected tone, or 
 even a great noise, — things that are neither capable of grati- 
 fying the Christian nor the man ; without which even the 
 most important weighty matters do to so squeamish stomachs 
 seem gustless and unsavoury, and are reckoned dull and flat 
 things. And most plain it is, — though it is not strange that 
 so trifling minds should impose upon themselves by so thin a 
 sophism, — that such are in a great mistake whose delight 
 being wholly taken up in these trifles, do hereupon think 
 they taste the delights of religion: for these are nothing 
 of it, are found about it only accidentally, and by a most 
 unhappy accident too ; — as ill (for the most of those things) 
 agreeing to it, and no more becoming it, than a fool's coat 
 doth a prudent, grave person ; and the best of them agreeing 
 to it but in common with anything else about which such 
 arts may be used, so that they are no wa}^ anything of it, or 
 more peculiarly belonging to it, than to any theme or subject 
 besides mito which such ornaments, as they are thought, can 
 be added. How miserably, therefore, do they cheat them- 
 selves, who, because they hear with pleasure a discourse upon 
 some head of religion, thus garnished according to their idle, 
 trifling humour ; and because they are taken with the con- 
 trivance of some sentences, or affected with the loudness of 
 the voice, or have their imagination tickled with some fan- 
 tastical illustrations, presently conclude themselves to be in a 
 religious transport ; — when the things that have pleased them 
 have no affinity or alliance with religion, befall to it but 
 by chance, and are in themselves things quite of another 
 country ! 
 
 (4.) Of the like strain is the religion that is made up all of 
 talk. And such like are that sort of persons who love to 
 discovu'se of those orreat thing-s of God wherewith it was never
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IX GGD. 129 
 
 their design or aim to have their hearts stamped, or their 
 lives commanded and governed ; who invert that which was 
 the ancient glory of the Christian church, " We do not speak 
 great things, but live them;" and are pleased with only the 
 noise of their own most commonly insignificant, senseless 
 words : unto whom how grateful a reKsh would that jJi'ecept 
 have, "Be swift to hear, slow to speak !" 
 
 And how much to be regretted a thing is it, that the 
 delights of practical, living religion should be so lost, and 
 vanish into a mere lip-labour ! Things of this nature are to 
 be estimated by their end and the temper of spirit which 
 accompanies them ; which, unto a serious and prudent ob- 
 server, are commonly very discernible, and easy to be dis- 
 tinguished. It is an amiable, lovely thing, to behold those 
 that are intent upon the great business of religion themselves, 
 provoking others also with serious gravity " unto love and 
 good works." And it will ever stand as a monumental 
 character of them that " feared the Lord," that " they 
 spake often one to another,"^ upon this account. But the 
 pretence of this is odious, when the thing designed is 
 nothing but self-recommendation and the spirit of the pre- 
 tenders is visibly vain and empty ; and when it is apparent 
 they take delight, not in the things they speak of, but only 
 in this thing itself, — speaking much. No breath is then 
 more fulsome ; and the better the things are, the worse it is 
 to have no more savour of them. Again, — 
 
 (5.) The religion is akin to this which stands all in hearing. 
 It is as remote, at least, from the heart, when it is wholly 
 placed in the ear as when it is all in the tongue ; as it is 
 with them that are "hearers only, not doers of the word, 
 deceiving their own selves;"^ when the preacher is to them 
 "as a very lovely song of one that can play well on an 
 instrument, and they hear his words, but do them not."^ 
 And it is natural to the same sort of persons to be pleased 
 indifferently with either of these, as the Athenians were " in 
 hearing or telling some new thing ;" only that this difference 
 ' Mai. iii. 16. - Jas. i. 22. 3 Ezek. xxxiii. 32. 
 
 G 3
 
 130 A TREATISE [part it. 
 
 most commonly appears witli the persons we intend, that 
 when the things they delight to hear must be ever new or at 
 least new dressed, the things they speak shall be everlastingly 
 the same. How perverse a delight is that ! Whereas it is 
 the glory of substantial religion that the principal things of 
 it can never grow old or be dry, their ears still itch after 
 novelties, — a plain argument that it is not religion itself 
 that pleases them — which cannot change, — but the variable 
 accessory modes of representing it. However, there is cer- 
 tainly very often a distemper appearing among those that 
 profess religion, in coveting to hear unto excess and beyond 
 what is either suitable or designed unto use and profit ; when 
 the pleasure of a delightful revolving of the ever fresh and 
 fragrant truths of the gospel and reducing them to answer- 
 able practice, is lost and stifled by heaping on of more than 
 can be digested ; and many a hopeful birth of pious and holy 
 dispositions, affections, and good works, is suppressed or 
 enfeebled by an untimely superfetation. Lastly, — 
 
 (6.) It is a most undelightfid religion which consists 
 entirely in the external additaments and forms of tcorship which 
 this or that party have chosen to affix to it, yea, though 
 those forms be never so certainly of Divine prescription : 
 which, however God hath appointed them, were never 
 appointed or intended by him to be our religion, but to be 
 subservient helps and means to it. Being enlivened by it, 
 they are comely and delightfid ; but severed and cut off from 
 it, or the course of vital spirit that should flow into them 
 being obstructed and repressed, they have no more pleasure 
 in them than a dead arm or finger. Such Divine appoint- 
 ments themselves, severed from the things wherein substantial 
 religion consists, have been an abomination to the Lord : 
 " Your new moons and your appointed feasts my soid hateth,"^ 
 etc. And then, sure, there is little reason they should be a 
 delight to us. If they be, it is as fond and trifling a delight 
 as, — when one hath the opportunity of conversing with some 
 excellent person, — to neglect all his wise sayings and 
 
 1 Is£fc i. 14.
 
 VART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 131 
 
 pleasant, instructive discourses, and only to please one's self 
 in viewing his handsome apparel ; yea, though I should know 
 at the same time that I thereby greatly displease him whom, 
 as is also supposable, I were greatly concerned to please. 
 Thus it is with them that mind only the solemnity of God's 
 worship, not the design. And more gross the matter is with 
 such as, by their observance of the external modes of reli- 
 gion, think to expiate the badness of their most vicious 
 conversation ; — that will steal and murder and commit 
 adulter}', oppress the stranger, the fatherless and the widow, 
 and yet presume to stand before the Lord in his house, and 
 cry, " The temple of the Lord,"^ etc. This is the pharisaical 
 religion, that is scrupidous in tithing mint, anise, cummin, 
 and neglects the weighty things of the law, — justice, 
 judgment, and truth. These men delight in what not only 
 is dead in itself, but will be mortal unto them. And if the 
 divine institution of the things wherewith they so vainly 
 please themselves will not bear them out, much less f/ieir 
 own ; be their discriminating denomination or profession what 
 it will. 
 
 And now all these things, whether severally or together, 
 and whatever else of like kind, do at the best make but a 
 dead and consequently an undelightful religion, such as 
 hath no pleasure in it because it hath no life. It remains, 
 therefore, — 
 
 2. To show /low nufit such a religion is to be chosen or rested 
 in. And surely since, as appears from what was formerly 
 said, the persuading of men to become religious or godly is 
 but an inviting them to a state and course wherein they may 
 delight themselves with God or to a life of pure and heavenly 
 pleasure, that is only the vain show of religion which affords 
 nothing of that pleasure. And how mireasonable and foolish 
 is it, when religion itself is the thing we pretend, to let our- 
 selves be mocked, — as we mock others, and vainly attempt to 
 mock Him also who is not to be mocked, — with the mere 
 empty show and appearance of it ! 
 
 ^ Jer. vii. 4
 
 133 A TREATISE ["patit ii. 
 
 That we may be here somewhat more particular, let it be 
 considered, — 
 
 (1.) That the religion which is in itself nndelightful is, for 
 the same reason for which it is so, incapable of growth; that 
 is, because it is a dead thing. For that reason it is without 
 delight, and for the same reason admits not of improvement. 
 It wants the self-improving principle. " He that drinks of 
 the water," saith our Saviour, " which I shall give him, it 
 shall be in him a well of water, springing up into ever- 
 lasting life."^ That only principle of all true religion 
 and godliness, the Divine natm-e, " the seed of God," is of 
 that heavenly tendency, it aims and aspires upward, and will 
 never cease shooting up till it reach heaven ; and the pleasure 
 and delightfulness of it stands much in its continual spring- 
 ing up towards a perfect state, — from a grain of mustard- 
 seed to the tallness of a cedar. It is pleasant to behold its 
 constant, undecaying greenness and verdure ; — such as renders 
 its, subject " like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that 
 brings forth fruit in season, whose leaf also doth not wither, 
 and whatsoever he doth prospers ;"^ or, "as plants set in the 
 house of the Lord, that flourish in the courts of their God ; 
 that shall still bring forth fruit even in old age, and be fat and 
 flourishing."^ The dead, dry forms or other appendages of 
 religion, that have no communion with a living root, or the 
 religion that is only made up of these, gives no such hope 
 of improvement : a great and most considerable prejudice 
 against anything that pretends to the name of religion ! 
 which, being at first an imperfect thing, — as that especially 
 which itself is but pretence and shadow cannot but be, — if it 
 shall never be expected to be better, can have little claim or 
 title to any excellency. The value even of true religion, 
 though it be of an excellent nature and kind, stands much 
 in the hopefulness and improvableness of it; and is not so 
 much to be considered in respect of what it is, as ichat it shall 
 come to.. This lank, spiritless religion, as soon as you assume 
 
 1 Julm iv. 14. ■ Ps. i. 3. ^ pg. xcii. 13, 14.
 
 PART 11.] OF DELIGHTiyG IX GOD. 183 
 
 and take it up, yon know tlie best of it. It is not of a grow- 
 ing, thriving kind; — never expect better of it. It is true 
 the notional knowledge, opinionativeness, and external ob- 
 servances, which we have spoken of, may be so increased as 
 a heap of sand may be ; but the religion of such grows not 
 as a thing that hath life in it, by vital self-improvement. 
 
 (2.) Nor for the same reason can it be a lasting thing . For 
 it wants what should maintain it. It will, as a vesture, wear 
 and grow old ; or, being as a cloak put on to serve a present 
 turn, is, when that turn is served, as easily thrown off; that 
 is, being found to be more cumbersome than usefid. What 
 hath living union with a man's own self, it is neither his 
 ease nor convenience ; he neither aifects nor can endure, to lay 
 it aside. It is given as a character of a hypocrite, — one who 
 therefore must be understood to carry with him some show 
 and face of religion and to want the living root and principle 
 of it, — that he is inconstant in his religion : " Will he 
 at all times call upon God?"^ — or, 'Will he be constantly 
 religious ? ' The interrogative form of speech implies more 
 than a mere negative ; that is, doth not only say that he will 
 not at all times call upon God, but that it is absurd to say or 
 think that he will. For it is an appeal to common reason in 
 the case ; as if it had been said, ' Can any man think that 
 such an one's religion will be lasting ? ' It imports a disdain 
 it should be thought so. ' What ! he call upon God at all 
 times ? a likely thing ! no ; the matter is plain, his religion 
 is measured by his secular interest, and he will only be 
 so long religious as will serve that purpose.' And the 
 reason is plainly assigned in the foregoing words, "Will 
 he delight himself in the Almighty?" His religion hath 
 no delight with it ; it is a langiud, faint, spiritless thing, 
 — a dead form. If it had life, it would have pleasure 
 in it ; and then the same vital principle that would make it 
 pleasant woidd make it lasting and permanent also. 
 
 (3.) \Vhile it doth last, it icants the fruit and profit ichich 
 
 ' Job xxvii. 10.
 
 134 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 should he designed and aonght hy religion. Even for the same 
 reason for which it is without delight, it is also fruitless and 
 vain, — that is, because it hath no life in it ; so that all 
 that is done in this way of religion is only labour and 
 toil to no purpose. And what do or can we propose 
 to ourselves from religion, as the proper design of it, but 
 to have our spirits fitted to the honouring and enjoying 
 of God, unto service to him and blessedness in him ; and 
 that we may hereupon actually both serve and enjoy him ? 
 Both these chiefly depend upon his favourable acceptance of 
 us. He will neither reckon himself served by us nor allow 
 himself to be enjoyed, if he be not pleased with us. And how 
 shall we expect to please him with that wherewith the more 
 our minds come to be rectified and made conformable to the 
 rule of righteousness and life, the more impossible it is that 
 we can be pleased ourselves ? Can we please him by a reli- 
 gion that is in itself unsavoury, spiritless and dead, and that 
 affords not to ourselves the least relish of true pleasure? 
 And partly, the success of our religion in the mentioned 
 respects depends upon the due temperament our spirits receive 
 by it. But what good impression can that light, chaffy, 
 empty religion that hath been described, ever be hoped to 
 make there ? Is it a likely means of refining and bettering 
 our spirits ? Even as it is void of spiritual delight, it is also 
 of spiritual benefit ; for certainly our spirits are like to embrace 
 and retain nothing in which they can take no pleasure. How 
 vain, then, is that religion by which we can neither please 
 God nor profit ourselves ! 
 
 (4.) It ought to be considered how foolish a thing it is and 
 unworthy of a reasonable creature, to do that in a continued 
 course and series of actions wherein we can hare no design and do 
 aim at nothing. Even they that place their religion in things 
 so remote and alien to the spirit and power of it, do yet 
 spend a considerable part of their lifetime in those things. 
 And how becoming is it of a man to have spent so much of 
 his time in doing nothing ! and that from week to week or 
 from day to day, the seasons should return of which he hath
 
 PART Ti.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOD. 135 
 
 constantly this to say, ' Now comes the time of doing that 
 whereof I can give no account why I do it ! ' — that there 
 should be so constant a defalcation of such portions of time 
 for that which a man can neither call business nor recreation, 
 — which tends to no advantage in any kind. For it tends not 
 to promote his secular interest, but in so indirect and bye a 
 way and -with so sinister and basely oblique respects, as an 
 honest man would abhor and an ingenuous man be ashamed 
 to profess ; and his spintiial and eternal interest much less. 
 This were therefore the same thing as to proclaim one's self 
 a fool or a vain trifler ; — the things that have been instanced 
 in, considered so abstractly from the substance of religion 
 as we have considered them, being such, some of them, as 
 carry not with them so much as that very " show of wisdom"^ 
 of which the apostle speaks ; and others of them so faint a 
 show as it ill becomes a wise man to be pleased with, while they 
 do his better part no good, and carry not that show in any 
 " provision," as that word rifxi] sometimes signifies, for the 
 satisfying of the flesh. 
 
 And yet it is to be withal remembered, that this waste and 
 lost time of their life is all that such persons allot to their 
 everlasting concernments ; and that the things which have 
 been mentioned' — some or other of them, for all do not always 
 concur with the same persons, — are not made subservient to, 
 but are substituted in the room and stead of, the religion by 
 which those concernments should be provided for. And is 
 this a wise provision for eternity ? What, man ! a few empty, 
 unimproved notions ! a by-oi^inion or two ! the flourishes of 
 a little pedantic art tickling thy toyish fancy ! the motion of 
 thy [only) busy and labouring tongue ! or the thirst and 
 satisfaction of thy vain car ! the bowing of thy hyjjocritical 
 knee ! — are these all that thou designest, or wilt mind to do 
 for thy soul ? Are these like well to supply the place of living 
 religion, — to serve thee instead of inward acquaintance with 
 God ? of being really and habitually good and holy ? of 
 
 • Col. ii. 23.
 
 136 A TREATISE [i>akt ft, 
 
 doing good, and walking in the path of life ? What a sold 
 hast thou, that can live upon chaff and air, and be sustained 
 by the wind ! Hast thou no need of qviickening influence 
 from God ? no hunger after the heavenly, hidden manna and 
 the fruits of the tree of life ? ^VTiat use makest thou of thy 
 understanding or of the reason of a man, when thou thinkest 
 such empty vanities as thou trustest in can do the ofiice or 
 attain the ends of true religion ? How much more rational 
 were it to pretend to nothing of religion at all, than to think 
 such an one will serve the turn ! 
 
 (5.) Consider what reflections are likely to he made upon this 
 matter hereafter, when thy short course in this tcorld is run out. 
 Will it be a grateful remembrance to thee, that thou wast so 
 long hovering about the borders of religion ? and wast at the 
 very door and wouldst not enter in ? that thou didst so often 
 think and speak and hear of the things wherein religion 
 stood, but wouldst never allow thyself to taste the pleasant 
 relishes thereof ? to have been so nigh to the kingdom of God, 
 and yet an alien to it, to the " righteousness, and peace, and 
 joy in the Holy Ghost," wherein it consists ? that thou didst 
 only please thyself with the painted casket, — made fine, as 
 thou thoughtst, but only with thine own pencil, — wherein so 
 rich a jewel was ; and retaining that, threwest away this as a 
 thing of nought ? Will not these be wounding thoughts ? 
 
 (6.) Let it be seriously pondered hoic offensive it must he 
 to the jealous God, that any should thus trifle with him and 
 his holy things, under a shoiv and pretence of religion and 
 devotion to him. Not to please him by the sincerity and 
 truth of our religion, loses the end and reward we wotdd 
 expect. But that is not all ; to provoke him by the hypo- 
 critical pretence and abuse of it, cannot but infer a sharp 
 revenge, which it may be we expected not. 
 
 And let us bethink ourselves how high the provocation is ! 
 Either we design to please, honour, and enjoy him by that 
 irrational and undelightful course of religion, or we do not. 
 If we do not, this signifies nothing but highest contempt and 
 defiance of him, and that we care not for his favour, nor fear
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 137 
 
 his displeasure. Yea, inasmucli as sucli religion is 2)refcnded 
 as a homage to him, it is nothing really but most profane 
 and insolent mockery ; as if we would join in the same 
 breath and in the same act, "Hail, Jesus!" and "Crucify 
 him I" and at once invest him with the purple robe, and spit 
 in his face. But if we have such a design, and do really 
 think to please him by such trifling with him, and that these 
 vain fancies and formalities shall make amends for all our 
 neglects of him through the whole course of our lives besides, 
 — then how vile thoughts have we of him ! What do we 
 make of the God we serve ? How justly may that be applied 
 to us, "Ye worship ye know not what!"^ Who gave us 
 our idea of that ever-blessed Being ? It is not God, but a 
 despicable idol of our own creating, we are thinking to please. 
 We may see how well he is pleased with the external show 
 and the appendages of religion (which, being his own appoint- 
 ments, would in conjunction and in subserviency thereto have 
 signified somewhat, but disjoined from it and accompanied 
 vdih the neglect and abandoning of real piety and righteous- 
 ness, signified nothing but an afii'ont to him) in that remon- 
 strance by the prophet : " He that killeth an ox, is as if he 
 slew a man ; he that sacrificeth a lamb, as if he cut off a 
 dog's neck ; he that offereth an oblation, as if he offered 
 swine's blood ; he that burneth incense, as if he blessed an 
 idol."" Pie is pleased with their religion as He would be with 
 murder, profaneness, and idolatry. And is it strange this 
 should be His estimate, when He is hereby practically repre- 
 sented as such an one that will not be displeased with real 
 wickedness, and that will be pleased with the thinnest and 
 most superficial show of devotion ? 
 
 They therefore make a fair hand of their religion, who are 
 so far from pleasing God by it and advantaging themselves, 
 that they wound their own souls, — as they are most like to 
 do that handle so awkwardly such an edged tool, — and render 
 God their most avowed enemy ! The religion, then, which 
 
 1 John iv. 22. - Isa. Ixvi. '.i.
 
 138 A TREATISE [part il. 
 
 hath no delight in it, hath so much of folly, incommodity, 
 and mischief, that, measuring it by the rules which were 
 premised, we may see sufficient reason why such a religion 
 should not be chosen or rested in, and that we are concerned 
 to look farther. Wherefore we proceed next, — 
 
 Secondly, To the other head we proposed, — the positive 
 judgment we are to make, tohat religion is fit to he chosen, and 
 wherein toe may safely acquiesce ; whereof we shall only give 
 the account which the subject we have in hand allows to be 
 given, — that is, that it be such as is in itself rationally and 
 justly delectable. And though religion is not to be chosen 
 only or chiefly for the delightfulness of it, yet since, as we 
 have seen, only that religion is true which is delightful, that 
 only which is delightful is fit to be chosen. So that this is a 
 certain character, though not the chief cause, of the eligible- 
 ness of religion. And when it is so expressly enjoined us as 
 a duty to " delight ourselves in the Lord," — if, as hath been 
 shown, this be within the meaning of the precept, that in the 
 general we delight ourselves in a way and course of religion, 
 it is plain such religion only can be meant or intended as can 
 afford us matter of delight, or as is in itself truly and really 
 delectable. And here we shall not need to repeat what hath 
 been so largely discoursed in the former Part, tending to 
 show the rich matter of delight which the several exercises 
 of true, livins: relig'ion, and all the actions influenced and 
 directed by it, do carry in them. It will only be requisite to 
 offer somewhat, partly to direct, partly to excite unto that 
 delightful, pleasant life. 
 
 1. For DIRECTION, let such rules be observed as these which 
 follow : — 
 
 (1.) Endeavour to have a mind icell instructed in the knotv- 
 ledge of such things as more directly concern the common practice 
 of a religious man, as such ; that is, to be thoroughly insighted 
 into practical truths, or into that "truth which is after god- 
 liness." It hath been the merciful vouchsafement of the 
 Divine goodness so to order it, that those things are plain 
 and but few which are of more absolute necessity in religion,
 
 II.] OF DELTGHTIXG IX GOD. 
 
 139 
 
 as may be seen by the summary accounts whicli we find some- 
 times given thereof, — " Repentance toward God, and faith, 
 toward our Lord Jesus Christ: " ^ which two things, intimated 
 to comprehend the whole counsel of God, do manifestly 
 suppose the state of apostasy and express the way of remedy ; 
 whereinto when we are brought, how succinct and clear a 
 recapitulation of our duty have we in that of our Saviour, 
 " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and 
 with all thy soul, and with aU thy mind : and thou shalt 
 love thy neighbour as thyself ! " To a well-complexioned 
 spirit, how comprehensive and full, how savoury and accept- 
 able, will these things appear ! Nor would such an one part 
 with the substantial fulness of these few words for all the 
 treasures of both the Indies. How truly is it called, " That 
 good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God ! " ^ And how 
 fitly to be preferred before " thousands of gold and silver ! " 
 Things of highest value are not bulky ; their excellency is 
 the greater by being contracted, and that, being in them- 
 selves precious, they are so conveniently portable. How 
 easily are these dictates carried about with us through our 
 whole course ! And how universally useful are they for the 
 well- guiding of it, to such as have a greater mind to do their 
 duty than move questions about it ! 
 
 Two things are both ojaposite to this rule, and not a little 
 prejudicial to the deKght of religious conversation, — by which 
 it will appear how conducible to it the matter here directed 
 is, — namely, excessive curiosity in the speculation of truths be- 
 longing to religion, without designing to refer them to practice, 
 — which hath been animadverted on before ; and an equally 
 excessive scruindosity about matters of practice. It were, indeed, 
 an argument of a desperate mind, and destitute of any fear 
 of God, to be careless what we do, and miconcerned whether 
 the way we take, in this or that case, be right or wrong. 
 But it is certain there may be an excess in this matter, and 
 too often is ; that is, there may be a scrupulosity which is 
 
 1 Acts XX. 21. - E-om. xii. 2.
 
 140 A TREATISE [part il, 
 
 both causeless and endless. There is surely some medium 
 in travelling, between a careless wandering we mind not 
 whither, and a perpetual anxiety whether we be in our way 
 or no, with often going back to inquire. This would quite 
 destroy both the pleasure of the journey and the progress of 
 it. Some difficulties may occur, which should justly occasion 
 one to make a stand and consider ; but probably very many 
 cases that some do agitate with much disquiet to themselves 
 and others, would soonest be expedited by sincerity, and 
 reducing them to the law of love. 
 
 It would, however, make much for our pleasant, delightful 
 walking on in the way of God, to have a mind informed once 
 and established thoroughly in the belief of the principal 
 doctrines of Christian religion, well furnished also with the 
 most useful practical precepts, which might at every turn be 
 ready at hand to be applied upon emergencies ; which they 
 whom predominant self-interest or corrupt inclination render 
 not difficult to the apprehending of their duty, — our way is 
 not usually otherwise so very intricate, — may cheerfully and 
 innocently guide themselves by. " He that walketh uprightly, 
 walketh surely ;" though some men's way may, by the 
 circumstances of their conditions, be much more perplexed 
 than others', who are therefore concerned to be the more wary. 
 But the difficult toil and tug that some have with themselves 
 is, how by contrived explications they may make their rule 
 bend and yield to their self-biassed humours and ends ; which 
 because, they find it not easy to do with full satisfaction to 
 their consciences, (that see more than they woidd have them, 
 and are yet not of authority enough with them to govern 
 and command their practice,) it is not strange they entangle 
 and even lose themselves amongst thorns and briers, and 
 meet with " little delight in their way." Wherefore, — 
 
 (2.) lie principally intent to have your soul become habitually 
 good and holy, by its otvn settled temper and complexion inclined 
 and made suitable to the tvay of righteousness and life. It was 
 no doubt, with a very sweet gust and relish of pleasure that 
 the Psalmist utters that gratulatory acknowledgment of the
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 141 
 
 Divine goodness in this, "He restore tli my soul ; he leadeth 
 me in the paths of righteousness, for his name's sake."^ The 
 paths of righteousness are very agreeable and pleasant to a 
 restored, a sound and healthy soid ; to one that is now got 
 into a good habit and a settled state of spiritual strength. 
 You may therefore take the meaning and substance of this 
 precept in the apostle's more authoritative words, "Be ye 
 transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may 
 prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of 
 God ;"" as much as to say. You can never have a proof of it, 
 the very palate of your soul will be vicious and still disaffected 
 till then, — that is, till that transformation and renewing 
 change hath passed upon you. Then it will be pleasant to 
 you to know the will of God ; your " delight will be in the 
 law of the Lord, and in his law you will meditate both day 
 and night." And it will be more pleasant to do it. You 
 will esteem the words of his mouth as your appointed food ; 
 and it will be as your meat and drink to do his will. You 
 can easily apprehend how toilsome and painful anything of 
 business and labour is to a person that languishes under some 
 enfeebling, lazy disease. A like case it is when you would 
 put one upon doing of anything spiritually good, that is 
 listless, indisposed, " to every good work reprobate." How 
 will the heart recoil and give back ! With how vehement a 
 reluctation will it resist the proposal, as if you were urging it 
 upon flames or the sword's point ! " The carnal mind is 
 enmity against God, and is not subject to his law, nor indeed 
 can be;"^ but when once " the law of God is within your 
 heart," you will "delight to do his will."'*^ To one that is 
 " born of God," and hath therefore " overcome the world," 
 his "commands are not grievous."^ Know, therefore, you 
 must be good, — really and habitually so, — in order to your 
 doing good with any delight ; in conformity to the blessed 
 God himself, your pattern, who therefore " exercises loving- 
 kindness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth," as 
 
 ' Ps. xxiii. 3. 2 Rom. xii. 2. ^ j^gm. viii. 7. ^ Ps. xl. 8. 
 
 » 1 John V. 3, 4.
 
 142 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 " deligliting in these things."^ You must be " partaker of a 
 divine nature," and have the heart- rectifying communication 
 before discoursed of, and become Grod's own workmanship a 
 second time, "created in Christ Jesus unto good works." ^ 
 It is not to be hoped it can be delightful to act against incli- 
 nation ; or that a forced imitation of that good whereof you 
 want the implanted vital principle, can be any more pleasing 
 to you than it is to God, whom you cannot mock or impose 
 upon by your most elaborate or specious disguises. And 
 therefore, since that holy heart-rectitude must be had, it 
 must be sought earnestly and without rest. Often ought 
 heaven to be visited with such sighs and longings sent up 
 thither : " O that my ways were directed to keep thy 
 statutes ! " " Let my heart be sound in thy statutes, that I 
 be not ashamed ! "^ And it should be sought with expecta- 
 tion of good speed and without despair ; remembering we 
 are told, if "we ask, we shall receive ; if we seek, we shall 
 find ; if we knock, it shall be opened unto us ;" yea, that 
 our heavenly Father will much more readily give his Holy 
 Spirit to them that ask, than you would bread to your child 
 that calls for it, rather than a stone. 
 
 (3.) When once you find your spirit is become in any 
 measure well inclined and begins to savour that which is 
 truly good, know yet that it needs your continual inspection 
 and care, to cherish good principles and repress evil ones. Your 
 work is not done as soon as you begin to live ; as care about 
 an infant ceases not as soon as it is born. Let it be there- 
 fore your constant business to tend your inward man, other- 
 wise all things will soon be out of course. God hath coupled 
 delight with the labour of a Christian, not with the sloth and 
 neglect of himself. The heart must then be "kept with all 
 diligence," * or ' above all keeping,' inasmuch as " out of it 
 are the issues of life." All vital principles are lodged there ; 
 and only the genuine issues of such as are good and holy 
 will yield you pleasure. The exercises of religion will be 
 
 > Jer. ix. 24. "- Eph. ii. 10. 3 pg ^xix. 5, 80. •* Prov. iv. 23.
 
 PVRT II.] OP^ DELIGHTING IN GOD, 143 
 
 pleasant when they are natural and flow easily from their 
 own fountain ; but great care must be taken that the fountain 
 be kept pure. There are other springs besides, which will 
 be apt to intermingle therewith their bitter waters ; or a 
 root of bitterness whose fruit is deadly, even that " evil thing 
 and bitter/^ " forsaking the Lord." I wonder not if they 
 taste little of the delights of religion that take no heed to 
 their spirits. Such a curse is upon the nature of man as is 
 upon the groimd which was cursed for his sake, (till the 
 " blessing of Abraham through Jesus Christ " do take place, 
 even " the promise of the Spirit," ^) that it brings forth 
 naturally thorns and thistles, and mingles sorrows with his 
 bread. But that promised blessing that will enable a man to 
 eat with pleasure, comes not all at once ; nor do the increases 
 of it come on or the pleasant fruits of righteousness spring 
 up, but in them that " give all diligence, to add to their 
 faith, virtue ; and to virtue, knowledge ; and to knowledge, 
 temperance ; and to temperance, patience ; and to patience, 
 godliness ; and to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and to 
 brotherly kindness, charity :" which would make " that we 
 be not barren nor imfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ."^ Otherwise, look in upon thy soul when thou 
 wilt, and thou wilt have no other than the dismal prospect 
 of miserable wastes and desolation. Consider it seriously, 
 wretched man, who tillest thy field, but not thy soul ; and 
 lovest to see thy garden neat and flourishing, but lettest thy 
 spirit lie as a neglected thing, and as if it were not thine. 
 
 We are directed, for the moderating of our care in our 
 earthly concernments, to consider the lilies, how they grow 
 without their own toil, and are beautifully arrayed without 
 their spinning ; but we are taught by no such instances to 
 divert or remit our care of our inward man. To these con- 
 cernments let us then apply and bend ourselves ; — that is, 
 carefully to observe the first stirrings of our thoughts and 
 desires ; to animadvert upon our inclinations as soon as they 
 
 > Gal. iii. 14. 2 2 Pet. i. 0—8.
 
 144 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 can come in view, upon our designs in tlieir very formation ; 
 and inquire concerning eacli, "W^hence is it — from a good 
 principle or a bad ? Whither tends it — to good or hurt ? 
 Will not this design, if prosecuted, prove an unjustifiable 
 self-indulgence ? Does it not tend to an unlawful gratifying 
 of the flesh, and fulhlling some lusts thereof? If so, let it 
 be lopped off out of hand and the axe be laid even to the root : 
 strike at it, favour it not. Think with thyself, ' This, if 
 spared, will breed me sorrow ; so much as I give to it, I take 
 away from the comfort of my life, and spend of the stock of 
 my spiritual delight in God. Shall I let sin, the tormentor 
 of my soul, live, and be maintained at so costly a rate ?' If 
 any good inclination discover itself, cherish it, confirm and 
 strengthen it. Look up, and pray down a further quickening 
 influence. Say with thyself, now that heavenly Spirit of 
 life and grace begins to breathe, ' More of this pleasant, 
 vital breath, thou blessed and holy Spirit !' Account this a 
 seed-time ; now the light and gladness are a-sowing in thy 
 soul, — which are w^ont to be for the righteous and upright in 
 heart, — and do promise, ere long, a joyful harvest. But if 
 thou wilt not observe how things go with thy sotd, despair 
 that they will ever go well. 
 
 (4.) Be frequent and impartial in the actual exercise of 
 gracious principles, or in practising and doing as they direct. 
 Your actual delight arises from and accompanies your holy 
 actions themselves, and is to be perceived and tasted in them ; 
 not in the mere inclination to them which is not strong 
 enough to go forth into act. And as these principles are 
 more frequently exercised, they grow more lively and vigor- 
 ous, and will thence act more strongly and pleasantly ; so 
 that your delight in doing good will grow with the principles 
 it proceeds from. 
 
 But then you must be impartial and even-handed herein, 
 as well as frequent ; and run the whole coinpass of that duty 
 which belongs to you as a Christian. " Exercise yourself," — 
 as we find the direction is, — "unto godliness ;"^ and in such 
 
 1 1 Tim. iv. 7.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 145 
 
 acts and parts of godliness, chiefly and in the first place, as 
 may be the exercise of the mind and spirit, in opposition to 
 the bodily exercise (whether severities imposed upon, or 
 performances that require the ministry of, that grosser part) 
 to which this nobler kind of exercise is justly preferred. 
 Turn the powers of your soul upon God ; act seasonably the 
 several graces of the Spirit that terminate directly upon him. 
 Let none grow out of use ; at sometimes repentance, at others 
 faith ; now your love, then your fear. None of these are 
 placed in you, or are sanctified, in vain. Retire much with 
 God ; learn and habituate yourselves unto secret converse 
 with him ; contemplate his nature, attributes, and works, for 
 your excitation to holy adoration, reverence, and praise. 
 
 And be much exercised in the open solemnities of his 
 worship ; there endeavouring that though your inward man 
 bear not the only, it may the principal part. How delightful 
 a thing is it to be paying actual, avowed homage to the 
 great Lord of heaven and earth before angels and men ! And 
 never think your religious and devotional exercises can acquit 
 you, or supply the want and excuse the absence of sobriety 
 and righteousness. Exercise a just authority over yourselves ; 
 keep your imagination, passions, sensitive appetite, mider a 
 due restraint, so as to be moderate in your desires and enjoy- 
 ments, patient as to your wants and sufferings. Do to others 
 as you would be done unto ; study common good ; endeavour, 
 so far as your capacity can extend, all about you may be the 
 better for you ; forbear and forgive the injurious, relieve the 
 necessitous, delight in good men, pity the bad ; be grateful 
 towards friends, mild and unrevengeful towards enemies, just 
 towards all ; abhor to do not only a dishonest, but even a mean 
 and unworthy act, for any self-advantage : and all this out 
 of an awful and dutiful respect to God ; by which the ordi- 
 nary actions of your life may become as so many acts of 
 religion or be directed and influenced thereby, — tinctured as 
 it were with the savour of godliness. Pass thus, in your 
 continual practice, through the whole circle of Christian 
 duties and graces, with an equal respect to all God's com- 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 146 A. TREATISE [paht ii. 
 
 mandments, not so partially adclicting yourselves to one sort 
 of exercise as to disuse and neglect tlie rest ; which, kind of 
 partiality is that which starves religion, and stifles the delight 
 of it. 
 
 There are those that affect the reputation of being sober, 
 just, kind, charitable persons, and do appear such, who yet 
 are great strangers to God and to the more noble exercises of 
 the Divine life ; know not what belongs to communion with 
 God, live not in his love and converse, savour not heaven, 
 have not so much as the taste of the great vital powers of the 
 world to come : others that pretend to much acquaintance 
 with God, and are much taken up in discoursing of his love 
 and of intimacies with him, that coiuit justice and charity 
 mean things and much beneath them ; can allow themselves 
 to be covetous, oppressive, fraudulent, wrathful, malicious, 
 peevish, fretful, discontented, proud, censorious, merciless ; 
 and so glory in a religion which no one is the better for, and 
 themselves least of all, and which is quite of another stamp 
 from the " pure rehgion and midefiled " ^ which the apostle 
 describes and recommends. And certainly their religion 
 hath as little of pleasure in it to themselves, as it hath of 
 beauty and ornament in the sight of others. So maimed a 
 religion can be accompanied with little delight. Would it 
 not detract much from the natural pleasui'e of a man's life, 
 if he should lose an arm or a leg, or have them useless and 
 unserviceable? or if he should be deprived of some of his 
 senses or natural faculties, so as to be incapable of some of 
 the more principal functions of life ? And if we should 
 suppose the new creature alike maimed and defective, will 
 there not be a proportionable diminution of its delight ? But 
 the Spirit of God is the author of no such imperfect pro- 
 ductions ; and therefore the total absence of any holy dispo- 
 sition will not argue the true delight of such an one to be 
 little, but none at all. However, let all the integral parts of 
 the "new man" be supposed formed at first, and existing 
 
 1 Jas. i. 27.
 
 PART IT.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 147 
 
 together ; when this creature is thus entirely framed, it is 
 our business to see to the due exercise, and thereby to the 
 improvement and growth, of the sereral parts ; wherem if 
 one be neglected, it infers a general enfeeblement of the 
 whole. " Let patience have its perfect work," saith that 
 apostle, "that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting 
 nothing ;"^ impljang, that not only the absence of that one 
 grace, but its not being thoroughly exercised, would render 
 us very defective Christians. We may say of the several 
 members of this Divine " creature," as is said of the com- 
 plex body of Christians, " If one suifer, all the members 
 suffer with it ; if one be honoured, all rejoice with it." 
 Therefore, that you may experience the delightfulness of 
 reKgion, see that in the exercise and practice of it you be 
 entire, thorough Christians. 
 
 (5.) Be confirmed in the apprehension that religion is 
 in itself a delightful thing, even universally and in the tchole 
 nature of it ; whereby a double practical mistake and erroi- 
 will be avoided, that greatly obstructs and hinders the actual 
 relish and sensation of that delight : — 
 
 i. That either religion is in the whole nature of it such a 
 thing to which delight must be alien, and banished from it, 
 as if nothing did belong to or could consist with it, but sour 
 severities, pensiveness, and sad thoughts. Or else, — 
 
 ii. That if any deKght did belong to it at all, it must be 
 found only in peculiar, extraordinary assurances and per- 
 suasions of God's love ; and be the attainment, consequently, 
 of none but more eminent Christians. 
 
 That apprehension being thoroughly admitted, both these 
 ^Misapprehensions fall and vanish. And it will take place, if 
 it be duly considered, that there is a delight that A\dll natu- 
 rally arise from the congruity and fitness of actions in them- 
 selves and the facility of them ; — that they flow easily from 
 their proper principles. "Whereupon there can be no true, 
 vital act of religion but will be delightful. And we may 
 
 1 Jas. i. 4. 
 
 H 2
 
 148 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 appeal herein to the judgments of such as shall allow them- 
 selves to consider whether the matter do not evidently appear 
 to be so, upon a serious review and revolving with themselves 
 of the several gracious operations that proceed from the 
 holy rectitude mentioned in the former Part ; — as the acts 
 of even repentance, self-abasement, self-denial, self-devoting, 
 appearing to be in themselves most fit and becoming things, — 
 and readily without force proceeding, as they cannot but do, 
 from a rectified and well-disposed heart, — ^how can they but 
 be pleasant ? And it is much in our way to the experi- 
 encing of such delight, to be at a point with ourselves, and 
 well resolved wherein it is to be sought and found. 
 
 (6.) However all the acts and operations of true and living 
 religion be in themselves delightful, yet apply yourselves to 
 the doing of them for a higher reason and with a greater design 
 than your oicn delight ; otherwise you destroy your own work 
 therein and despoil your acts of their substantial, moral 
 goodness, and consequently of their delightfulness also. That 
 is not a morally good act, which is not referred to God and 
 done out of at least an habitual devotedness to him, so as that 
 he be the supreme end thereof. You would therefore, by 
 withdrawing and separating their reference to God, ravish 
 from them their very life and soul ; yea, and perfectly nullify 
 those of them that should be in themselves acts of religion : 
 so as that in respect of all your actions, that separation were 
 unjust, and as to these that should be direct acts of religion, 
 impossible. Since, therefore, they are only delightful as they 
 are vital acts, proceeding from a principle of Divine life, and 
 that an habitual devotedness to God is that very comprehen- 
 sive and most radical principle, you should, by designing 
 your own delight in them supremely, counteract yourself and 
 cross your own end ; you should make them acts of idolatry, 
 not religion ; and set up your own self as the idol of jealousy, 
 that receives the homage of them, instead of God : whereby 
 the unlawful pleasure which you wovdd engross to yourselves 
 will turn all to gall and wormwood, and be bitterness in the 
 end. That therefore you may taste the sweetness and plea-
 
 PART II.] OF DELICxHTlXG IN GOD. 14^ 
 
 sure wliicTi belong to a religious, godly life, your way must 
 be to act on directly forward in the simplicity of your beart, 
 doing all that you do to and for God. And thus that plea- 
 sure, because it is natural to such acts, will of its own accord 
 result and arise to you ; and so much the more by how much 
 less you design for yourself in what you do. From that 
 uprightness and sincerity of heart towards God it can never 
 be separated. But to be a religious epicure, to pray, hear, 
 meditate, do acts of justice and charity, only to please and 
 humour yourselves, and that you may derive a kind of solace 
 and satisfaction from your own work, is to undo your design 
 and blast the delight which you covet. It follows while 
 you seek it not ; it flies from you while you so inordinately 
 seek it. 
 
 (7.) Yet disallow not yourself to taste and enjoy the pleasure 
 of well-doing ; yea and, secondarily and in due subordination, 
 to design and endeavour that you may do so. It is in itself a 
 covetable and a lawful pleasure, so that it be not sought and 
 entertained out of its own place. It is a promised pleasure. 
 " The good man," it is said, " shall be satisfied from himself."^ 
 And it is by particular direction to be testified to the righ- 
 teous, "They shall eat the fruit of their doings."^ It is 
 God's gracious allowance to them ; which it is a part of 
 gratitude and dutifulness to esteem and accept, yea, and with 
 great admiration of the Divine goodness that hath made and 
 settled such a conjunction between their duty and their 
 delight ; — that hath laid such laws upon them, as in the 
 "keeping whereof there is great reward;"^ whenas they 
 might have been enjoined a meaner servitude and, by the 
 condition and kind of their work, have been kept strangers 
 to anything of delight therein. 
 
 That thankful acknowledgment of the bounty and goodness 
 of God to them in the very constitution of his laws and 
 government, is become a part of their duty, which cannot be 
 done without previous relishes of the sweetness and goodness 
 
 1 Prov. xiv. 14. 2 isa. iii. 10. '^ Ps. xix. 11.
 
 150 A TREATISE [paet it, 
 
 of their other dufy. They are required " in every thing to 
 give thanks ;"^ and it is said, they shall go on in their way, 
 as " the redeemed of the Lord, with everlasting joy upon their 
 head;"^ that "they shall sing in the ways of the Lord:"^ 
 which cannot be, if they take not notice that " the ways of the 
 Lord are pleasantness, and all his paths peace."* Therefore 
 you should designedly set yourself to taste the goodness and 
 delightfulness of holy walking. And to that end, when you 
 find the blessed cherishino: warmth and vig-our of God's 
 gracious commimication let in upon you, enlarging your 
 hearts, making your way and work easy to you, and helping 
 you to do with an untoilsome facility what he requires and 
 calls for and " to run the way of his commandments," — so that 
 you can do acts of piety, righteousness, and mercy, as natural 
 acts, borne up by the power of a steady, living principle 
 acting in you, as it is said, "They that wait upon the 
 Lord shall renew strength, and mount up with wings as 
 eagles, run without weariness, and walk without fainting;"^ — 
 you shoidd now reflect and take notice how good and pleasant 
 is this ! Make your pauses and deliberate ; have your 
 seasons of respiration and drawing breath ; and then bethink 
 yourself, commime thus with your own heart : ' How do I 
 now like the way and service of the Lord and a life of pure 
 devotedness to him? — a course of regidar walking in 
 thorough subjection to his laws and government, and that 
 the course of my actions be as a continual sacrificing, — 
 doing all to him and for him ? ' What ! do you not now 
 rejoice that you find yourselves to "oifer willingly?" Can 
 you forbear with gratitude and joy to acknowledge and own 
 it to him, that it is " of his own hand that you do" this ? You 
 should now compare your present with your former state and 
 temper, and consider, ' How much better is it to me to live in 
 his fear, love, and communion, than to be, as once I was, 
 alienated from the life of God, and as without him in the 
 world ! Now I can trust and obey ; once I could not. Now, 
 
 1 1 Thess. V. 18. "• Isa. li. 11. ^ pg cxxxviii. 5. 
 
 ■» Prov. iii. 17. « Isa. xl. 31.
 
 PART IT.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD, 151 
 
 when the opportunity invites, I am in some readiness to 
 serve him, " created to good works, a vessel fitted to my 
 Master's use;" sometime I was "to every good work repro- 
 bate." ' Surely it is most becoming to take a free compla- 
 cency in this blessed change : — that is, not with a proud, 
 Pharisaical gloriation to say, " God, I thank thee, I am not 
 as other men ; " or, trusting in yourself that you are righteous, 
 to despise others ; but with a mean estimation of yourself 
 and all you can do, and with that deej) and constant sense, 
 that when you have done all you can, you " are an unprofitable 
 servant," — you do but your duty ; — yet blessing God, that 
 since he hath made such things your duty, he also doth in 
 some measure enable you to do it ; that he hath reconciled 
 and attempered your heart to your way and work, and made 
 it pleasant to you ; — not hypocritically arrogating all to your- 
 self under the formal and false show of thanksgiving to him, 
 or aiming only more colourably to introduce a vain boast and 
 ostentation of yourself in the form of gratulation to God ; 
 but as having a heart inwardly possessed with the humble 
 sense who it is that hath made you differ, not onl}^ from other 
 men, but from yourself also. 
 
 (8.) And because that disposedness of heart unto such a 
 course of holy practice may not be constantly actual and 
 equally sensible at all times, — that all delight in the ways of 
 God may not hereupon cease and be broken off, which in 
 those sadder intervals cannot but suffer a great diminution, 
 you must take heed, that, as to the distempers and indispo- 
 sitions you now discern in your own spirit, you do neither 
 indulge yourself nor desjMir, but take the proper course of 
 redress. 
 
 To indulge yourself in them were mortal. Then down you 
 go as a dead weight into the mire and dirt, into the depths 
 of the earth, and your swift and pleasant flight ends in a 
 heavy, lumpish fall. You should therefore bethink yourself, 
 that if you peld to a slothful, sluggish temper of spirit, 
 which you now feel coming on upon you, shortly you shall 
 have nothing sensibly remaining to you of your religion, but
 
 152 A TREATISE [part li. 
 
 the dead and empty form. How waste and desolate a thing 
 will that be ! — a like thing as if you come into a deserted 
 house where you were wont pleasantly to converse with most 
 delectable friends, and you now find nothing but cold, bare 
 walls. How dismal will it be when only the same duties, the 
 same external frame and acts of worship remain, but the 
 spirit of life and power which was wont to breathe in them, 
 is retired and gone ! And what ! will you take up with that 
 delusive, unconversable shadow, or be content to embrace 
 the stiff and breathless carcase that remains ? You find, 
 perhaps, your spirit sinking into carnality, — an earthly 
 temper of mind gradually seizing on you, — worldly thoughts, 
 cares, desires, fears, invading your heart : by the same 
 degrees that these come on, life retires ; you grow listless 
 toward God ; your heart is not in your religion as heretofore ; 
 you keep up your fashion of praying and doing other duties 
 which were your former wont ; but you languish in them. 
 Can you here be content to lie still and die ? and rather 
 choose to suffer the pains of death than of labour, by which 
 your soul might yet live ? Is this a time to roll yourself 
 upon your slothful bed and say, " Soul, take thine ease," even 
 upon the pit's brink ? Do not agree the matter so. Think 
 not of making a covenant with death ; it is not so gentle a 
 thing as your slothful temper makes you think. Account 
 the state intolerable wherein you are so manifestly tending 
 towards it. Think not well of yourself and your present case. 
 What reason soever any have to be pleased and delighted 
 with a course of lively converse with God and " of walking 
 in the Spirit," so much reason you have to be displeased with 
 yourself as your case now is, — to dislike and abhor the 
 present temper of your own soul. If the life of religion and 
 its vigorous exercises be delightful, by that very reason, it 
 appears, its faint and sickly languishings are not so. 
 
 Therefore know that self-indulgence is now most unsuit- 
 able and dangerous. Labour to awaken in yourselves some 
 sense of your condition. Think, 'A¥hither am I going?' 
 Represent to your own soul the terrors of death. Admit the
 
 PART II. ] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 153 
 
 impression thereof. Beliold its frightful visage, and be 
 startled at it. Recount with yourself what you shall be if 
 Grod, who is your life, quite depart : if this shall never be, 
 yet know that your fear lest it should is the means of your 
 preservation. And let the apprehension of the tendency 
 of your distemper excite in you that just and seasonable fear. 
 How sure soever you are of the principle that God will never 
 utterly forsake those that are his, as most certainly he never 
 will, yet you cannot be so sure of your application of it to 
 yourself, as your case stands, but that there will now be room 
 for this fear ; therefore let it be entertained. 
 
 But though you admit a just and very solicitous fear, he 
 sure that you exclude not hope. Though you apprehend your 
 case dangerous, look not upon it. as desperate. Your hope 
 must not be in yourself, but in Him that raises the dead, and 
 calleth "things that are not as though they were;" yea, 
 makes them exist and be. But if you cast away all hope, 
 you yield yourself to perish. This stops your breath ; so 
 that even all stragglings for life and the very gaspings 
 of your fainting heart, must immediately cease and end in 
 perfect death. The danger of your case, as bad as it is, 
 calls not for this ; nor will the exigency of it comport with 
 it. When once the soul says, " There is no hope," it imme- 
 diately proceeds to say, " I have loved strangers, and after 
 them will I go."^ Your hope is as necessary to your safety 
 as your fear : " We are saved by hope ;"^ that is, of the end 
 itself, which therefore animates to all the encounters and 
 difficidties of our way as well from within as from without. 
 Great distempers appear in you, and often return ; yea, such 
 as are of a threatening aspect and tendency. You should yet 
 consider you are under ciire ; the prescribed means and 
 method whereof are before you. " There is balm in Gilead, 
 and a Physician there," — one in whose hands none that 
 trusted him ever miscarried. It is well if you find yourself 
 sick. " The whole need him not," and will not therefore 
 
 ' Jer. ii. 25. ^ Jjom. yiii. 24. 
 
 h3
 
 154 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 commit themselves to his care. He Lath relieved many gucli 
 as you, that, apprehending their case, have been restored to 
 him. Let them despair that know no such way of help. Say 
 within yourself, ' Though I am fallen and low, I shall rise and 
 stand, renewed by thee, my God.' Was there never such 
 a time with you before, when, in the lilce case, you " cried to 
 the Lord, and he answered you, and strengthened you with 
 strength in your soid?"^ Say, within yourself, "Why art 
 thou cast down, my soul ? . . . hope thou in God ; for I 
 shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance," 
 (where health shows itself in lively, sprightly, pleasant looks,) 
 " and my God."^ And this very hope, as it preserves life, so 
 it doth the delight and pleasure of life, from being quite 
 extinct. The joy of hope is not to go for nothing, when it 
 can only be said, not, * It is well,' but, ' It shall be.' It is 
 pleasant to consider that the state wherein saints on earth are 
 is a state of recovery ; that though it be not a state of perfect 
 health, yet it is not, also, a state of death, but wherein they 
 are tending to life in the perfection of it ; and their frequent 
 and very faidty relapses shall be found but to magnify the 
 more the skill and patience of their great Physician. There- 
 fore, however you are not hence to be secure, or imposing 
 upon him, yet let not your hearts sink into an abject despair 
 and sullen discontent, that you find a distempered frame 
 sometimes returning. Let there be tender relen tings after 
 God. Your heart ought often to smite you, that you have 
 been no more careful and watchful, but not admit a thought 
 that you will therefore cast off all; that it is in vain ever 
 to strive more, or seek to recover that good frame that you 
 have often found is so soon gone. 
 
 Instead of that, apply yourself with so much the more 
 earnestness to the proper course of remedy ; and therein you 
 must know your own labour and diligence. Your conten- 
 tions with yourself must have a great place, otherwise it 
 would never have been said, " Be watchful, and strengthen 
 
 1 Ps. cxxxviii. 3. 2 pg. ^liL 11.
 
 PART Ti.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOD. 155 
 
 the things TvliicTi remain, that are ready to die ;"^ and, "Grive 
 all diligence to add to your faith, virtue," etc.^ Such things 
 would never have been charged as duty upon you if you had 
 nothing to do. You must expect to be dealt with as a sort of 
 creatures capable of understanding your own concernments ; 
 not to be hewed and hammered as senseless stones that are 
 ignorant of the artist's intent, but as living ones, to be 
 polished and fitted to the spiritual building by a hand that 
 reasonably expects your own compliance and co-operation to 
 its known design : unto which design, though you must know 
 you are to be subservient, and must do something, yet you 
 must withal consider you can be hut subservient, and of 
 yourselves alone can do just nothing. 
 
 Therefore, if ever you would know what a life of spiritual 
 delight means, you must constant h/ strive against all you)' 
 spiritual distempers that obstruct it, in the power of the Holy 
 Ghost. And do not think tlt.at is enjoining you a course 
 wholly out of your power ; for though it be true that the 
 power of the Holy Ghost is not naturally yours or at your 
 dispose, yet by gracious vouchsafement and ordination, it is. 
 If it were not so, what means that exhortation, " Be strong 
 in the Lord, and in the power of his might ?"^ and that, " If 
 we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit?"* with 
 the foregoing prescription of " walking in the Spirit, that 
 we might not fulfil the lusts of the flesh ?"^ Doth the Holy 
 Ghost himself prescribe to us impertinently, in order to our 
 obtaining of his own imparted influences ? Doth not he 
 know the method and way wherein they are to be conveyed ? 
 or, would he deceive us by misrepresenting it ? In short, 
 "walking in the Spirit" must signify something; and what 
 can it signify less than dependence on his power and subjection 
 thereto, with the continuance of both these? These, therefore, 
 are necessary to the making of that power our own : — 
 
 i. Dependence and trust : as that like phrase imports, " I 
 will go in the strength of the Lord God,"^ etc. : and that, 
 
 1 Eev. iii. 2. 2 o Pet. i. 5. ^ Eph. vi. 10. 
 
 * GaL V. 25. ^ Qal, v. IC. « Ps. Ixxi. 16.
 
 156 A TREATISE [part ir. 
 
 " I will strengthen tliera in the Lord ; and they shall walk 
 up and down in his name,"^ at once shows us both the com- 
 munication of the Divine power, — " I will strengthen them 
 in the Lord;" and the way wherein it is communicated, — 
 their " walking up and down in his name ;" namely, in actual 
 and continued dependence thereon. The blessed God hath 
 settled this connexion between our faith and his own exerted 
 power. As the extraordinary works of the Spirit were not 
 done but upon the exercise of the extraordinary faith which 
 by the Divine constitution was requisite thereunto, so that 
 the infidelity which stood in the privation of this faith did 
 sometimes, — so inviolable had that constitution made that 
 connexion, — in a sort bind up the power of God, (" And he 
 could there do no mighty work, . . . and he marvelled 
 because of their unbelief;"- "AVhy could not we cast him 
 out? . . . Because of your imbelief,"^) — nor also are the 
 works of the Holy Ghost, that are common upon all sincere 
 Christians, done but upon the intervening exercise of that 
 more common faith.* Therefore is this "shield" to be taken 
 above all the other parts of the Divine armature, as sufficient 
 to " quench all the fiery darts of the wicked ;" therefore are 
 we said to be "kept by the power of God through faith." ^ 
 And more expressly in terms to our present purpose, — we 
 are "to receive the promise of the Spirit," that is, the Spirit 
 promised, "through faith." ^ Hereby we draw the power of 
 that almighty Spirit into a consent and co-operation with our 
 spirit : so the great God suffers himself^ his own arm and 
 power, to be taken hold of by us. He is engaged when he 
 is trusted ; that trust being now in this case not a rash and 
 unwarrantable presuming upon him, but such whereto he 
 hath given the invitation and encouragement himself. So 
 that when we reflect upon the promises wherein the gift of 
 the Spirit is conveyed or wherein the express grant thereof is 
 
 1 Zeeh. X. 12. - Mark vi. 5, 6. » Matt. xvii. 19, 20. 
 
 * Eph. vi. 16. » 1 Pet. i. 5. « Gal. iii. 14.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 157 
 
 folded up,^ Tve may say, " Remember the word unto thy 
 servant, upon which thou hast caused me to hope."^ 
 
 And then surely he will not frustrate the expectation which 
 he hath himself been the author of. He would never have 
 induced those to trust in him whom he intended to disap- 
 point. That free Spirit, which, as the wind, blows " where 
 it listeth," now permits itself to be brought under bonds, 
 even the bonds of God's own covenant, whereof we now 
 take hold by our faith : so that he will not fail to give forth 
 his influence so far as shall be necessary for the maintaining 
 a resolution in us of stedfast adherence to God and his 
 service, and retaining a dominion over undue inclinations and 
 affections. How express and peremptory are these words, 
 *' This I say," (as much as to say, ' I know what I say, I have 
 well weighed the matter and speak not at random,') " Walk 
 in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh ! " 
 And so much as this aflbrds great matter of rational delight, 
 though more sensible transports (which are not so needful to 
 us, and in reference whereto the Spirit therefore retains its 
 liberty), be not so frequent. Therefore if we aim at the 
 having our spirits placed and settled in the secret of the 
 Divine presence, entertained with the delights of it ; if we 
 would know and have the sensible proof of that religion which 
 is all life and power, and consequently sivcetness and pleasure, 
 — our direct way is believing on the Spirit. That very trust is 
 his delight ; " He taketh pleasure in them that hope in 
 his mercy." ^ It is that whereby we give him Divine 
 honour, the homage and acknowledgment proper to a Deity ; 
 confessing ourselves impotent and " insufficient to think 
 anything as of ourselves," we rely upon his sustaining hand 
 and own "our sufficiency to be of him."* It is his delight 
 to be depended on as a Father by his children. He is pleased 
 that title should be given him, " The Father of spirits ; " ^ to 
 have the spirits which are his offspring gathering about him, 
 
 1 Prov. i. 2.3 ; Ezek. xxxvi. 27, etc. 2 Ps. cxix. 49. ^ Ps. cxlvii. 11. 
 
 ^ 2 Cor. iii. 5. a Heb. xii. 9.
 
 158 A TREATISE [pART 11. 
 
 — especially those wlio, being revolted from him and become 
 sensible of their miserj'^ by their revolt, do now upon this 
 invitation apply themselves and say, " Lo, now we come to 
 thee, thoii art the Lord our God," — craving his renewed 
 communications, drawing vital influences from him, and the 
 breath of life, adoring his boundless fulness, that filleth all in 
 all. And when we thus give him his delight, we shall not 
 long want ours. But then we must also add 
 
 ii. Subjecfion to our dependence ; a willing, obedient sur- 
 render and resignation of ourselves to the conduct and 
 guidance of that blessed Spirit ; a dutiful jdelding to his 
 dictates, so as that they have actually with us the governing, 
 binding force and power of a law, — " the law of the Spirit of 
 life in Christ," ^ as it is called. Great care must be taken of 
 "grieving" and "quenching the Spirit," of "rebelling and 
 vexing" it, of "resisting" it," and of "striving against it," 
 (which appears to have been the horrid crime of the old 
 world ; his Spirit, it is intimated, had striven, when it is said 
 it should "no longer strive ;"^ and that it had striven implies 
 a counter-striving, that was now, by his penal retirement, 
 permitted to be victorious, but to their own sudden ruin,) of 
 "despiting the Spirit of grace;"* — a wickedness aggravated 
 by the very style and title there given it, "The Spirit of 
 grace," and unto which only such a vengeance — as is intimated 
 in what follows — which it peculiarly belonged to God himself 
 to inflict, could be proportionable. When we permit our- 
 selves entirely to the government of the Holy Ghost, thereby 
 to have our spirits and ways framed and directed according 
 to his own rules, — ^his quickening influence and the pleasure 
 and sweet rehshes thereof will not be withheld. 
 
 And if the experience of some Christians seem not con- 
 stantly to answer this, who complain they pray often for the 
 Spirit, and desire earnestly its gracious communications, but 
 find little of them, they are concerned seriously to reflect and 
 
 • Rom. viii. 2. - Eph. iv. 30; 1 Thess. v. 19 ; Isa. Ixiii. 10; Acts %'ii. 51. 
 ^ Gen. vi. 3. . * Heb. x. 29.
 
 PART 11.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 159 
 
 bethink themselves whether their distrust or disobedience, or 
 both, have not made them desolate. Surely we are altogether 
 faulty in this matter ; his promise and faithfulness do not fail, 
 his Spirit is not straitened. But we either do not entirely 
 commit and entrust ourselves to his guidance or we obediently 
 comply not with it ; but either indulge our sluggishness and 
 neglect or our contrary incKnations, and resist his dictates, 
 are intractable and wayward, not apt to be led by the Spirit ; 
 and hence provoke him to withdraw from us. Hereto we are 
 in justice to impute it that we find so little of that power 
 moving in us, all the motions whereof are accompanied with 
 so much delight. 
 
 2. For excitation. Little, one would think, should be 
 needful to be said more than only that we would bethink 
 ourselves what all this while we have been directed to, and 
 are, by this text. If that be once understood, hath it not 
 in itself in\TLtation enough ? Do we need further to be 
 invited to a life of delight ? Do we need to be pressed 
 with arguments to choose delightful and wholesome food, 
 rather than gall and wormwood, or even very poison? It 
 is a sad argument of the deplorate state of man, that 
 he shoidd need arguments in such a case ! But because, 
 moreover, much is to be said hereafter to persuade unto 
 delighting in God considered in the stricter notion of it, 
 and that will also be applicable to this purpose, therefore 
 little is intended to be said here. Only, it is to be considered. 
 Do you intend to proceed in any course of religion, or no ? 
 If not, you are to be remitted to such discourses as prove 
 to you the reasonableness and necessity of it ; which if you 
 think nothing you meet with sufficiently proves, think 
 with yourself how well you can prove that there is no 
 God, and that you are no man, but a perishing beast ; for 
 these things they are concerned not fondly to presume and 
 wish, but most clearly and surely to demonstrate, who will 
 be of no religion. 
 
 But if you think that horrid, and resolve to own something 
 or other of religion, will you here use your understanding and
 
 160 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 consider ? Is it indeed so horrid a thing to disavow all 
 religion ? And what is it better to pretend to it to no 
 purpose ? You find the religion is all but show and 
 shadow, mere empty vanity and mockery, which is not 
 deKghtful. If you will not choose a better because it 
 is delightful, as you are not advised to do for that as 
 your chief reason, yet at least choose that which is so, because 
 it is in other more considerable respects eligible, as being 
 most honourable and pleasing to Him that made you, and 
 only safe and profitable to yourself. And what shall your 
 religion serve for, that will not answer these purposes ? 
 
 And if you be not ashamed to spend so considerable a part 
 of the time of your life, as the exercises of your religion will 
 take up, in doing that, as was said before, whereof you can 
 give no account, yet methinks you should be afraid to make 
 such things the subject of your vanity as do relate to God, 
 either really or in your opinion. Can you find nothing 
 wherein vainly to trifle but the sacred things of the great 
 God of heaven and the eternal concernments of your own 
 soul ? and shall the time spent about these matters be pecu- 
 liarly marked out as your idle time, wherein you shall be 
 doing that only which shall wholly go for loss, and signify 
 nothing ? The religion which is not delightful can turn to 
 no better accoimt. 
 
 If, therefore, you will have a religion, and you have any 
 reason for that resolution, by the same reason you would have 
 any, you must have the pleasant, delightful religion we speak 
 of. You have no other choice, — there is no other will serve 
 your turn ; and therefore what hath been said to divert you 
 from the other, ought to persuade you to the choice of this. 
 And besides, since there is so much of secret delight in 
 true, substantial religion, that ought not to signify nothing 
 with you. If we did consider the delightfulness of it alone, 
 upon that single account it surely challenges the preference 
 before that which is neither profitable nor delightful. And 
 that it is in itself so delightful, if you had nothing to inform 
 you but the report of such as profess to have tried and found
 
 PART Ti.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 161 
 
 it SO, methinks that at least should provoke you to try also. 
 How sluggish a temper doth it argue, not to be desirous to 
 know the utmost that is in it ! It were even a laudable 
 curiosity to resolve upon making trial ; to get into the inmost 
 centre of it ; to pierce and press onward till you reach the 
 seat of life, — till you have got the secret, and the very heart 
 of religion and your heart do meet and join in one. Did you 
 never try experiments for your pleasure ? Try this one. 
 See what you will find in withdrawing yourself from all 
 things else, and becoming entirely devoted to God through the 
 Redeemer, — to live after his icill and in his jjresence. Try the 
 difference between viewing truths to please your genius or 
 using Divine ordinances to keep up the custom, to conform 
 yourself to those you live among, and help to make a solemn 
 show ; and doing these things with a serious design to get 
 into an acquaintance with God, to have your soid trans- 
 formed into his image, that you may have present and eternal 
 fellowship with him. Try how much better it is to have 
 your lives governed by an awful and dutiful respect to God, 
 than to follow your own wild and enormous inclinations ; and 
 whether it be not better, what good things soever you do, to 
 do it for the Lord's sake, than from base and sordid motives. 
 And why shoidd you be of so mean and abject a spirit, as 
 to content yourself to be held at the door and in the outer 
 courts of religion, when others enter in and taste the rich 
 provisions of God's house ? Why will you distinguish your- 
 selves by so debasing a character? It is a just and com- 
 mendable ambition to be as forward here as the best. Wliy 
 will you suffer this, and that, and the other man, to enter 
 into the kingdom of God before you, — even that kingdom 
 which consists in " righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy 
 Ghost?" Think not so meanly of yourself; impose not on 
 yourself that needless, unwarrantable modesty, as to account 
 you are of a lower rank than all that ever became intimately 
 acquainted with the hidden delights of a godly life. At 
 least you are as capable of being thought worthy as any, for 
 His sake upon whose account all must be accepted. There-
 
 162 A TREATISE [part H, 
 
 fore tliink witli yourselves, 'Why should I not labour to 
 attain as far in the matter of rehgion as this or that neighbour 
 of mine ? What should hinder ? ^Vho restrains or forbids 
 me ?' 
 
 But you cannot, if you consider, but have somewhat more 
 to assure you of the delight fulness of it than the mere report 
 of others ; for your own reason and conscience cannot but so 
 pronounce, if you go to the particulars that have been in- 
 stanced in. If you aclaiowledge a God, and consider yourself 
 as a reasonable creature, made by him and depending on him, 
 you cannot but see it is congruous and fit your spirit should 
 be so framed and affected towards him, towards your fellow- 
 creatures of your own order, and all things else that do and 
 shall circmnstantiate your present and future state, as hath 
 been in some measui-e, though very defectively, represented ; 
 and that it must needs be very pleasant if it were so. You 
 can frame in your mind an idea of a Hfe transacted according 
 to such rectified inclinations. And when you have done so, 
 do but solemnly appeal to your own judgment whether that 
 were not a very delectable life, and thereupon bethink 
 yourself what your case is, if you cannot actually rehsh a 
 pleasure in what your own judgment tells you is so highly 
 pleasurable. Methinlcs you should reflect thus, 'A\Tiat a 
 monstrous creature am I, that confess that delightful wherein 
 yet I can take no delight ! How perverse a nature have I ! 
 Surely things are much out of order with me, — I am not 
 what I should be ! ' And one would think it should be 
 uneasy to you to be as you are, and that your spirit should 
 be restless till you fuid your temper rectified and that you 
 are in this respect become what you should be. 
 
 And will you dream and slumber all your days ? How 
 much time have you lost that might have been pleasantly 
 spent in a course of godliness ! Do you not aim at a life of 
 eternal delights with God ? If you now begin not to live to 
 God, when will you? That life which you reckon shall 
 never end mth you, must yet have a beginning. AVill you 
 defer till you die your beginning to live? Have you any
 
 PART 11.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOD. 163 
 
 hope God will deal in a peculiar way with you from all men, 
 and make the other world the place of your first heart- 
 change? How dismal shoidd it be to you to look in, and 
 still find your heart dead towards God and the things of God, 
 so that you have no delight in them ! Think what the be- 
 ginnings of the Divine life, and the present delights of it, 
 must be the earnest of to you, and make sure the ground 
 betime of so great a hope. 
 
 But I forbear here to insist further ; and pass on to the 
 discourse of delighting in God under the other more strict 
 notion of it, namely, as the very act of delight hath its direct 
 exercise upon himself. 
 
 Secondly, So we are to consider this delight, not as a thing 
 some way adherent to all other duties of religion, but as a 
 distinct duty of itself, that requires a solemn and direct ap- 
 plication of ourselves thereunto. For though it seems little 
 to be doubted but there is in this precept a part of religion 
 put for the whole, as having a real influence, and conferring 
 with its name a grateful savour and tincture, upon the whole, 
 it would yet be very unreasonable not to take special notice 
 of that part from whence the entire frame of religion hath 
 its name. 
 
 And having shown the nature of this duty already in the 
 former Part, what is now to be said must more directly 
 concern the practice of it; and will, as the case requires, 
 fall into two kinds of discourse ; namely, expostulation con- 
 cerning the omission and disuse of such practice, and invitation 
 thereunto. And in both these kinds it is requisite we apply 
 om'selves to two sorts of persons : namely, such whose spirits 
 are wholly averse and alien to it ; and such as, though not 
 altogether impractised, are very defective in it and neglect it 
 too much : — 
 
 First, Both sorts are to be expostulated with; and no doubt 
 the great God hath a just quarrel with mankind (whom these 
 two sorts do comprehend) upon the one or the other of these 
 accounts ; wherein it is fit we should plead with men for his 
 sake and their owti. And, —
 
 164 A TREATISE [part li, 
 
 1. Witli the former sort ; them who are altogether disaffected 
 to Ood, alienated and " enemies in their minds through 
 wicked works," and, — excepting such as deny his being, 
 with whom we shall not here concern ourselves, — at the 
 utmost distance from delighting in him. And as to such, 
 our expostulation should aim at their conviction both of the 
 matter of fact, that thus the case is with them, and of the 
 great iniquity and evil of it. 
 
 (1.) It is needful we endeavour to fasten upon such a 
 conviction that this is the state of their case. For while his 
 being is not flatly denied, men think it generally creditable 
 to be professed lovers of Grod, and reckon it so odious a thing 
 not to be so, that they who are even most deeply guilty are 
 not easily brought to confess enmity to him, but " flatter 
 themselves in their own eyes, till their iniquity be found to 
 be hateful." The difficulty of making such apprehend them- 
 selves diseased, that their minds are imder the power of this 
 dreadful distemper, that it is not well with spirits in this 
 respect, is the great obstruction to their cui'e. But I sup- 
 pose you, to whom I now apply myself, to acknowledge the 
 Bible to be God's word, and that you profess reverence to 
 the truth and authority of that word, and will yield to be 
 tried by it : — 
 
 i. Therefore, first, you must be supposed such as believe 
 the account true which that book gives of the common state 
 of man ; that it is a state of apostasy from God ; that " the 
 Lord looking down from heaven upon the children of men, 
 to see if any did understand and seek God," finds " they are 
 all gone aside," ^ — that is, that the retiirn may answer to the 
 meaning of the inquiry, gone ofl" from him. " Every one of 
 them, is gone back," ^ or " revolted," as it is expressed in the 
 parallel psahn; "there is none that doeth good, no, not 
 one:"^ which is quoted by the apostle to the intent that 
 " every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become 
 guilty before God."* This is then a common case. And as 
 
 » Ps. xiv. 2, 3. 2 pg Ym. 3. ^ Horn. iii. 12. 
 
 •• Rom. iii. 19.
 
 PART II. J OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 165 
 
 the same apostle charges it upon the Gentiles that they were 
 " haters of God," so doth our Saviour as expressly on the 
 Jews, who no doubt thought themselves as innocent of this 
 crime as you, that " they had both seen and hated both him 
 and his Father." And when it is said of men, that they 
 were "by nature the children of wrath," ^ — they to whom he 
 writes, **even as others," — do you think that is spoken of 
 any lovers of God as their present state, or that when all by 
 nature are children of wrath, any are by nature lovers of 
 him, so as to love him and be under his wrath both at once ? 
 It is likely, then, that against so plain evidence, while you 
 confess yourselves men, you will not deny you were sometime 
 haters of God. Well then, is the case altered with you ? It 
 is a conviction against you that you are of human rave, till it 
 can be evidenced you are honi from above, and are become 
 new creatures. And what ! do you find this ? It is not 
 expected you shoidd be able to tell the very moment when 
 you ceased from your enmity against God and became his 
 friends ; or give a punctual account of every turn or motion 
 of thoughts in such a change : but it is to be supposed the 
 work was not done upon you in your sleep, so as that you 
 could have no animadversion of what was doing. However, 
 comparing what you sometime were with what you are, what 
 difference do you observe ? What ! were you sometime 
 haters of God, and are you now come to love and delight in 
 him, mthout perceiving in yoiirselves any difference ? Bethink 
 yourselves ; is not the temper of your spirits just such God- 
 ward as it was always wont to be, without any remarkable 
 turn or alteration ? That is a shrewd presumption against 
 you that your case is most deplorable. But, — 
 
 ii. What is your present temper, in itself considered ? 
 You do love God and delight in him. How do you make it 
 appear ? Wherein doth that friendly and dutiful affection 
 towards him evidence itself? Sure, love and hatred are not 
 aU. one with j^ou. Whereby would you discern your hatred 
 
 1 Eph. ii. 3.
 
 166 A TREATISE [part ii, 
 
 towards one you did most flatly and peremptorily disaffect ? 
 You would dislike the thoughts of him, hate his memory, 
 cast him out of your thoughts. Do you not the same way 
 show your disaffection to God ? Do you not find that so a 
 wicked man — his enemy — is branded and distinguished, 
 "God is not in all his thoughts?"^ Are not they who 
 shall be turned into hell described thus, " The people that 
 forget God?"^ that is, who willingly and of choice forget 
 him, or from the habitual inclination of their hearts. And 
 is not that your case ? What could hinder you to remember 
 him, if you were so disposed ? 
 
 Yea, but you often forget your friends, or those at least to 
 ichom you are sure you hear no ill-will; and what friend would 
 expect to he always in your thoughts ? It is answered. But you 
 disrelish not the remembrance of a friend. Do you not the 
 thoughts of God ? You do not think on your absent friends 
 while no present occasion occurs to bring them to your 
 remembrance ; but is God absent ? is he far from any one of 
 us ? or have you not daily before your eyes things enough 
 to bring him to mind, while his glorious works surround you, 
 and you "live, move, and have your being in him," and 
 "your breath is in his hand?" Have you that dependence 
 on diTij friend ? Ai-e you under so much obligation to any ? 
 You often do not think on friends yviih whom you have no 
 opportunity to converse ; — have you no opportunity to con- 
 verse with Him ? Your friends can lay no such law upon 
 you, to have them much in your thoughts. It argues a 
 depraved inclination, not to do herein what you ought and 
 are boiuid to do. You cannot by the exercise of your 
 thoughts obtain the presence of a friend ; you might a most 
 comfortable Divine presence. 
 
 And what though you think not of manj^ to whom you 
 bear no ill-will, nor have any converse with many such ; is 
 it enough to bear no ill-will to God ? will that suffice you to 
 delighting in him? Are you no more concerned to mind 
 
 1 Ps. X. 4. 2 Ps. ix. 17.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 167 
 
 God and converse witli liim, tlian with the man you never 
 knew or had to do with ? Yoiu- unconversableness with God 
 and unmindfuhiess of him can proceed from nothing but 
 ill-will, who daily offers himself to your converse, who seeks 
 and invites your acquaintance, would have you inwardly 
 know him, and lead your lives with him. Why is it that 
 you do not so, but that you like not to retain him in your 
 knowledge, and that this is the sense and language of your 
 hearts towards him, "Depart from us, we desire not the 
 knowledge of thy ways?" It can proceed from nothing but 
 ill-will and a disagreeable temper, that you. shun the converse 
 of one that seeks yours ; that you will take no notice of one 
 that often offers himself to your view, one that meets you at 
 every turn and aims to draw yom: eye, and cannot gain a 
 look. When this is your deportment towards God, that he 
 passes by you, and you perceive him not ; he compasses you 
 about, behind and before, and is "acquainted with all your 
 ways," and with him and his ways you mil have no acquaint- 
 ance, remain alienated from the life of God and as without 
 him in the world ; — is not this downright enmity ? or can 
 this deportment agree mth habitual, and the frequent actual, 
 delight in God which is required ? 
 
 Again, would you not be justly taken to disaffect one whose 
 temper is ungrateful, whose disposition and way is unpleasing 
 to you ? Is it not thus with you Godward ? When j^ou 
 hear of the purity and holiness of his nature, his abhorrency of 
 all wickedness, and how detestable to him everything is that 
 is impure, and that he will not endure it ; do not your hearts 
 regret this quality, as we must conceive of it, in the nature of 
 God ? which yet, because it is his very nature, doth so 
 much the more certainly infer that a dislike of it cannot but 
 include disaffection to himself, and tJiat habitual and constant ; 
 since his whole way of dealing with men and the course of his 
 government over the world do, and shall more discernibly, 
 savour of it. Do they not wish him hereupon not to be, in 
 this respect, what he is ? which is, in effect^ to wish him not 
 to be at all ; — the same thing which the " heart of the fool "
 
 168 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 says, " No God ;" that is, this would please such an one to the 
 very heart. And doth this import no enmity ? Can this 
 stand with dcHght in him ? 
 
 Are you not disaffected to him, whom, not being able to 
 accuse of falsehood, whom, having the greatest imaginable 
 assurances of the impossibility he should deceive, you will 
 yet by no means be induced to trust ? Consider, what doth 
 your trust in God signify more than the sound of the name ? 
 Doth it quiet your heart, in reference to any afi'airs you 
 pretend to commit to him ? Doth it purify it, and check your 
 ill inclinations in anything wherein they should be counter- 
 manded upon the credit of his word ? What doth his 
 testimony concerning the future things you have not seen 
 weigh with you, to the altering of your course and rendering 
 it such as may comport and square with the belief of such 
 things ? Would not the word of an ordinary man, premon- 
 ishing you of any advantage or danger which you have no 
 other loiowledge of, be of more value with you ? Constant 
 suspicion of any one, without cause or pretence, most certainly 
 argues radicated enmity. You love him not whom you cannot 
 trust. 
 
 Do you love him whom upon all occasions you most cause- 
 lessly displease, whose offence you reckon nothing of? Is 
 that ingenuous towards a friend or dutiful towards a fathel" 
 or a lord ? IIow do you in this carry towards the blessed 
 God ? Are you wont to displease yourselves to please him, 
 or cross your own will to do his ? Do you take delight in 
 him whom you make no difficulty to vex ; whose known, 
 declared pleasure, though you confess him greater, wiser, and 
 more righteous than yourself, you have no more regard to, 
 wherein it crosses your own inclination, than you would have 
 to that of your child, your slave, or a fool ? Have you 
 anything to except against that measure and character of 
 loyal affection to your Redeemer and Lord, " If ye love me, 
 keep my commandments " — " Ye are my friends, if ye do 
 whatsoever I command you" — " This is the love of God, that 
 we keep his commandments ? " Do you not disobey the
 
 PART n.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOD. 169 
 
 known will of God, in your ordinary practice, without regret ? 
 Do you not know it to be Ms will, that you " strive to enter 
 in at the strait gate ;" — that you " seek first the kingdom of 
 heaven ;" — that you "keep your heart with all diligence ;" — 
 that you " deny yourself, crucify the flesh," be temperate, 
 just, merciful, patient ? Do you aim at obepng him in these 
 things ? Can you say, * Lord, for thy sake I refrain the 
 things to which my heart inclines ? ' Hath his prohibition 
 any restraining force upon your heart ? Do you not allow 
 yourself to be licentious, earthly, vain, proud, wi'athful, 
 revengeful, though you know it w411 ofiend him ? And is 
 this your love to him, or delight in him ? Do you bear good- 
 will to him whose reproach and dishonour you are not 
 concerned for, yea, whom you stick not to dishonour and 
 reproach ; whose interest among men hath no place in jonr 
 thoughts ; whose friends are none of yours ; whose enemies 
 are your friends ; whose favour you care not for, nor regret 
 his frowns ; whose worship is a biu'den to you, — that you had 
 rather do anything than pray to him, — and his fellowship an 
 undesired thing ? Make an estimate by these things of the 
 temper of your heart towards God ; and consider whether it 
 bespeak delight in him, or not rather habitual aversion and 
 enmity. 
 
 It may be you will admit these things seem to carry some- 
 what of con\dction with them, but they concern many that are 
 taken for godly persons and lovers of God, as well as they 
 do you ; and it may be many such may take themselves for 
 godly persons and lovers of God, and be mistaken as well as 
 you. And what will that mend jouv cause ? If these things 
 will prove a person one that hath no delight in God, they 
 equally prove it as to you and others; which will make 
 nothing to your advantage. 
 
 But if they who have sincere love to God are in a degree 
 peccant against the laws of such love, — as that they are, they 
 will hear in due time, — they are more ready to accuse them- 
 selves than other men ; they abhor themselves that they do 
 not more entirely delight in God, and " repent in dust and 
 
 VOL. II. I
 
 170 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 ashes." It better becomes you to imitate tlieir repentance 
 than glory in their sinful weakness ; which while they 
 patronize not themselves, you should not think it can afford 
 a valuable patronage unto you. When did you check and 
 contend with your own hearts upon these accounts, as they 
 are wont to do ? And if these things, in a degree found with 
 them, prove their delight in God imperfect, their prevailing 
 contraries will prove it, however, sincere. And if you will 
 not now understand the difference, God grant you may not 
 hereafter at a more costly rate ; — -between the imperfection and 
 the total want of his love, between having your heart and soul 
 imperfectly alive towards God, and perfectly dead. 
 
 You may further say, God is out of your sight, and therefore 
 how can it be expected you should find a sensible delight in 
 him ? But is he out of the sight of your minds ? If he be, 
 what would you infer ? That then you cannot delight in him 
 at all, and therefore that you do not, — the thing that you are 
 charged with all this while. But he is out of sight by the 
 high excellency of his being ; for which reason he should be 
 delighted in the more, — that is, with a deeper delight, though 
 not like that you take in the things of sense, — and he hath 
 been so beyond all things, notwithstanding his abode in that 
 light which is inaccessible. This therefore is confession 
 without excuse ; and would never be offered as an excuse by 
 any but those that are lost in flesh and sense, have forgot 
 they have reasonable souls, and had rather be nmnbered with 
 brutes than men ; — as if there were not many things you have 
 not seen with the eyes of flesh, more excellent than those you 
 have ; or as if you had no other faculty than eyes of flesh 
 to see with ! which since you have, and the depravation 
 thereof is vicious and sinful, as your not delighting in God — 
 the matter of fact — seems to be yielded, and so you quit 
 your first post, it will thence appear that it cannot but be 
 sinfid too. And since at that you seem to make a stand, as at 
 your next post, either thinking to deny or extenuate the evil 
 of it, om- expostulation must follow you thither, and be 
 aimed, —
 
 PART ![.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOE, 171 
 
 (2.) To evince to you the greatness and Itorridncss of that sin. 
 Suffer yourselves therefore to be reasoned with to this purj)ose ; 
 and consider, first, that you have somewhat of delectation in 
 your natures, — that is, you have the power naturally inherent 
 in you of taking delight in one thing or other. You have 
 such a thing as love about jon. Are not some things grateful 
 and agreeable to you, in which you can and do take com- 
 placency ? Therefore herein an act is not enjoined you which 
 is incompetent to your natures, or simply impossible to you. 
 Next, then, do you not know your delight or love ought to 
 be placed on some good or other that is kno^ai to you ; and 
 among things that you know to be good, proportionably to the 
 goodness which you find in them, and supremely on the best ? 
 Further, do you not acknowledge the blessed God to be the 
 best and most excellent good, as being the first and fountain- 
 good, the fullest and most comprehensive, the purest and 
 altogether unmixed, the most immutable and permanent good ? 
 How plain and certain is this ! How manifestly impossible is 
 it, if there were not such a good, that otherwise anything else 
 should ever have been good, or been at all ! Is not this as 
 sure and evident as anything your senses could inform you 
 of? Whence is the glorious excellenc}^ of this great creation, 
 — the beauty, loveliness, pleasantness of any creature ? Must 
 not all that and infinitely more, be originally in the great 
 Creator of all ? This, if you consider, joii cannot but see 
 and own. 
 
 While, then, j^our own hearts tell you joii delight not in 
 God, do not your consciences begin to accvise and judge you 
 that you deal not righteously in this matter ? And ought it 
 not to fill your soids with horror, when you consider you 
 take no delight in the best and sovereign Good ? Yea, when 
 you look into your disaffected hearts and find that you not 
 only do not delight in God, but you cannot, — and not for 
 the want of the natural power, but a right inclination, — 
 should you not with astonishment bethink yourselves, every 
 one for himself, ' What is this that has befallen me ? I am 
 convinced this is the best good, every way most worthy of 
 
 I 2
 
 172 A TREATISE [rART ii. 
 
 my highest delight and love, and yet my heart savours it 
 not ! ' You can have no pretence to say that because your 
 heart is disinclined, therefore you are excused, for you only 
 do not what through an invincible disinclination you appre- 
 hend you cannot do. But you should bethink yourself, 
 ' What a wretch am I, that am so ill-inclined ! ' For is 
 not any one more wicked according as he is more strongly 
 inclined to wickedness, and averse to what is good ? But 
 how vincible or invincible your disinclination is, you do not 
 yet know, not having yet made due trial. That you cannot 
 of yourselves overcome it is out of question ; but have you 
 tried what help might be got from heaven in the use of 
 God's own prescribed means ? If that course bring you in 
 no help, then may you understand how much you have 
 provoked the Lord. For though he hath promised, that for 
 such as turn at his reproof, he will pour out his Spirit to 
 them ; yet they who, when he calls, refuse, and when he 
 stretches out his hand regard not, but set at noiight all his 
 counsel, etc., may call and not be answered, may seek him 
 early and not find him.^ And that wickedness may some- 
 what be estimated by this effect, that thus it makes the 
 Spirit of grace retire, — that free, benign, merciful Spirit, the 
 author of all love, sweetness, and goodness become to a 
 forlorn soul a resolved stranger ! If you are so given up, 
 you have first given up yourselves ; you have wilfully cast 
 him out of your thoughts and hardened your own hearts 
 against him, who was the spring of your life and being, and 
 in whom is all your hope. And whether this malignity of 
 your hearts shall ever finally be overcome or no, — as you 
 have no cause to despair but it may be overcome, if, appre- 
 hending your life to lie upon it, you wait and strive, 
 and pray and cry, as your case requires, — yet do you not 
 see it to be a fearful pitch of malignity, and so much the 
 worse and more vicious by how much it is more hardly 
 overcome ? 
 
 That we may here be a little more particular, consider, — 
 1 Prov. i. 33—28.
 
 VART 11.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 173 
 
 i. How tumultuous and dkorderly a thing this your dis- 
 affection is. You are here to consider its direct tendency, its 
 natural aptitude ; or what it doth of itself and in its own 
 nature, lead and tend to. If you may withdraw yom* delight 
 and love from God, then so may aU other men as well. 
 Therefore now view the thing itself in the common nature of 
 it : and so, is not aversion to delight in God a manifest 
 contrariety to the order of things, — a turning all upside 
 down, — a shattering and breaking asunder the bond between 
 rational appetite and the First Good, — a disjointing and un- 
 hinging of the best and noblest part of God's creation from 
 its station and rest, its proper basis and centre ? How fearful 
 a rupture doth it make ! how violent and destructive a dislo- 
 cation ! If you could break in pieces the orderly contexture 
 of the whole universe within itself, reduce the frame of 
 nature to utmost confusion, rout all the ranks and orders of 
 creatures, tear asunder the heavens, and dissolve the com- 
 pacted body of the earth, mingle heaven and earth together, 
 and resolve the world into a mere heap, — you had not done 
 so great a spoil as in breaking the primary and supreme tie 
 and bond between the creature and his Maker, yea, between 
 the Creator of aU things and his more noble and excellent 
 creature. All the relations, aptitudes, and inclinations of 
 the creatures to one another, are but inferior and subordinate 
 to those between the creatures and their common Author and 
 Lord ; and here the ' corruption of the best ' cannot but be 
 ' worst' of all. Again, — 
 
 ii. What an unnatural wickedness is it, — to hate thy oa^tl 
 original ! to disafl'ect the most bountiful Author of thy life 
 and being ! AVhat wouldst thou say to it, if thy own son 
 did hate the very sight of thee and abhor thy presence and 
 converse, especially if thou never gave him the least cause ? 
 If thou hast been always kind and indulgent, full of paternal 
 affection towards him, wouldst thou not think him a vile 
 miscreant and reckon the earth too good to bear him ? But 
 how little, and in how low a capacity, didst thou contribute 
 to his being, in comparison of what the great God did to
 
 174 A TREATISE [fart 11. 
 
 thine ! How little of natural excellency liast thou above 
 him, — it may be, in many things, besides this unhappy 
 temper, he much excels thee, — when thou knowest in thy 
 Maker is infinite excellency beyond what thou canst pretend 
 unto ! And what cause canst thou pretend of disaffection 
 towards him ? Many good works hath he done for thee : 
 for which of these dost thou hate him ? Whereby hath he 
 ever disobliged thee ? With how sweet and gentle allure- 
 ments hath he sought to win thy heart ! And is it not most 
 vilely unnatural that thy spirit should be so sullenly averse 
 to Him who is pleased to be styled " The Father of spirits ? '* 
 and in which respect it may iitly be said to thee, " Dost thou 
 thus requite the Lord, foolish creature and unwise ? is not 
 he thy Father ? " ^ If thou didst hate thy own self, in a 
 sense besides that wherein it is thy duty and in which kind 
 thou hast, as thy case is, a just and dreadful cause of self- 
 abhorrence, — if thou didst hate thy very life and being, and 
 wert laying daily plots of self-destruction, — thou wert not so 
 wickedly mmatural. He is more intimate to thee than thou 
 art to thyself. That natural love which thou owest to thy- 
 self and the nature from whence it springs, is of him, and 
 ought to be subordinate to him; and, by a superior law of 
 nature, thy very life, if he actually require it, ought to be 
 sacrificed and laid down for his sake. Thy hatred towards 
 him, therefore, is more prodigiously unnatural than if it were 
 most directly and implacably bent against thyself. And yet, 
 also, in hating him, thou dost most mischievously hate 
 thyself too ; and all that thoii dost, by the instinct of 
 that vile temper of heart towards him, thou dost it against 
 thy o^vn life and soul. Thou cuttest thyself off from 
 Him who is thy life, and art laying a train for the blowing 
 up of thy eternal hope. "All that hate him, love death." ^ 
 Further, — 
 
 iii. It is the most comprehensive iiickedness, and which 
 entirely contains all other in it. For as the law of love is 
 
 1 Deut. xxxii. 6. ^ Prov. viii. 36.
 
 PART H.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD, 175 
 
 the imiversal and summary law, compreli ending all duty, 
 and even as it enjoins love to God, — for love to men ought to 
 be resolved into that, and must be for his sake, — so must 
 disaffection to God be comprehensive of all sin, whereinto 
 everything of it resolves itself. Dost thou not see, then, 
 how thou cancellest and nullifiest the obligation of all laws 
 while thou hast no delight in God ? offerest violence to the 
 very knot and juncture wherein they all meet and are in- 
 folded together ? Not to delight in God, therefore, what can 
 it be but the very top of rebellion ? AVhat will thy sobriety, 
 thy justice, thy charity signify, if thou hadst these to glory 
 in, while thou art habitually disaffected to thy God ? Let 
 men value thee for these, to whom thereby thou showest 
 some respect ; but shall He, who in the meantime knows 
 thou bearest none to him ? 
 
 iv. It is a most reproachful, contemptuous icicl-edness ; — to 
 Him, I mean, whom it most directly offends against. Carries 
 it not in it most horrid contumely and indignity to the most 
 high God ? It is a practical denial of all those excellencies 
 in him that render and recommend him the most worthy 
 object of our delight; it is more than saying, 'He is not 
 good, holy, wise, just, and true.' Things may on the sudden 
 be said that are not deliberately thought, and may be 
 retracted the next breath ; but a man's stated, constant 
 course and way signifies the apprehension it proceeds from 
 to be fixed, and that it is the settled, habitual sense of his 
 soul. Yea, and since, as hath been said, ' Thou delightest in 
 other things, whilst thou delightest not in him ; ' it jilaiuly 
 imports it to be the constant sense of thy very heart that 
 those things are better than he. What is it, then, that hath 
 thy delight and love ? Whereon is thy heart set ? Com- 
 mune with thyself. Dost thou not tremble, when thou 
 findest this to be thy very case, that thou mayst truly say, 
 *I can delight in creatures, but not in God; can take 
 pleasure in my friend, but none in him. I must confess it 
 to be the temper of my heart, that I love my father, mother, 
 son or daughter, more than Christ ? ' Is it not then to be
 
 176 A TREATISE [pAKT ir. 
 
 concluded from his own express word, that thou art not 
 worthy of him, and canst be none of his disciple?^ Nay, 
 mayst thou not, moreover, truly say that thou lovest this 
 base, impure earth more than God ? that thou takest more 
 delight in thy companions in wickedness, — canst more solace 
 thyself with a drunkard on the ale-bench, with a lascivious 
 wanton, with a profane scoffer at godliness, than with the 
 blessed God ? that thou canst allow thyself to riot with the 
 luxurious, and eat and drink with the drunken, and " not 
 only do such things, but take pleasure in them that do 
 them ; " yea, and thyself take pleasure to commit iniquity ; 
 but in the glorious, holy God thou canst take no pleasure ? 
 Then wouldst thou be content to carry the plain sense of thy 
 lieart written on thy forehead, and proclaim it to all the 
 world, as thy resolved, practical judgment, that thou ac- 
 countest thy friends, thy relations, this vile and vanishing 
 world, thy wicked associates, thine own impure lusts, better 
 than God ? And dost thou not yet see the horrid vileness of 
 thy own heart in all this ? Art thou yet a harmless, 
 innocent creature, an honest, well-meaning man for all 
 this? 
 
 Yea, wilt thou not see that thine heart goes against thy 
 conscience all this while ? that thou disaffectest him in 
 whom thou knowest thou shouldst delight ? that the temper 
 of thy spirit is a continual affront to thy profession, through 
 the perfidious falsehood and vanity whereof thou dost but 
 cover hatred with lying lips ? Is not that an odious thing 
 which thou so seekest to hide ; and which, though thou art 
 not loth to be guilty of it, thou art so very unwilling should 
 be known? And since thou art so very loth it should be 
 known, how canst thou hold up thy head before that " eye 
 that is as a flame of fire," that " searches thy heart and tries 
 thy reins," that observes thy wayward spirit and sees with 
 how obstinate an aversion thou declinest his acquaintance 
 and converse ? Wilt thou stand before the glorious Majesty 
 
 1 Matt. X. 37 ; Luke xiv. 26.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 177 
 
 of heaven and earth, who knows thy disaffected heart, and 
 say it is but a small transgression thou hast been guilty of, 
 in not loving hiin and making him thy delight ? Dost thou 
 think this will pass for a little offence in the solemn judgment 
 of the great day that is drawing on? or will "thy heart 
 endure or thy hands be strong," when "the secrets of all 
 hearts " shall be laid open, — thou shalt stand convicted before 
 his tribunal, in the sight of angels and men, of having borne 
 all thy days a false, disloyal heart, fidl of malignity and ill- 
 will to thy sovereign Lord, whom thou wast so many ways 
 obliged to serve and cleave to with delight and love ? 
 
 When the difference shall be visibly put between those 
 that delighted in God and them that never did, and thou 
 shalt be marked out for one of them, that didst in heart 
 depart from him all thy days, and be thereupon abandoned 
 to the society of that horrid, accursed crew in whom only 
 thou didst delight, — surely thou wilt not then say thy 
 transgression was small. 
 
 2. But we are also to expostulate with another sort, who, 
 though they are not altogether unacquainted with this heavenly 
 exercise of delighting in God, yet too tnuch disuse it, and 
 apply not themselves to it (as who do ?) with that constancy 
 and intension of soul as the matter requires. And these we 
 are to put upon the consideration of such evils as either are 
 included in this neglect or are allied unto it, — and do there- 
 fore accompany and aggravate the natural evil of it, — as 
 either causing it or being caused by it. And, — 
 
 (1.) Those whom we now intend are to bethink themselves 
 what evil is included in their neglect of this part of holy 
 practice. And you are to judge of the evil of it by its dis- 
 agreement with such known and usual measures as whereto our 
 practice should be suitable, and which in reason and justice it 
 is to be estimated and censured by ; as, for instance, the Divine 
 law, conscience, experience, obligation by kindness, stipulation, 
 relation, profession, tendency of the new nature, dictates of 
 God's Spirit, the course and drift of his design ; with all 
 "vrhich it will be found to have very ill accord. 
 
 i3 
 
 k
 
 178 A TREATISE [part ti. 
 
 i. How directly opposite is it to the law of God ! — not only 
 to liis express written precept, but to that immutable, eternal 
 law wliicb arises from our very natures referred unto his ; 
 the obKgingness or binding force whereof doth not so much 
 stand in this, that the thing to be done is such as whereto 
 our natures were originally inclined, which yet is of great 
 weight, they having been thus inclined and determined by 
 our Maker himself, so that our inclination was in this case 
 expressive of his will ; but, — which is indeed the very reason 
 of that, for we must conceive the Divine wisdom in the blessed 
 God to conduct all the determinations of his will, — the 
 natural, unchangeable congruity of the thing itself. And 
 therefore, as to the things whose constant fitness woidd 
 render them matter of duty to us at all times, it was provided 
 inclinations suitable to them should be planted in our natures 
 from the beginning ; but things that were to be matter of 
 duty but for a time, having only a present fitness unto some 
 present juncture or state of affairs, it was sufiicient that 
 the Divine pleasure should be signified about them in some 
 way more suitable to their occasional and temporary use, and 
 that might not so certainly extend to all men and times. 
 
 That great law of love to God — which comprehends this of 
 delighting in him — is, you may be sure, of that former sort, 
 it being impossible there shovdd be a reasonable creature in 
 being but it will immediately and always be his duty to love 
 God supremely and above all things ; yea, that you must 
 know is the most fundamental of all such laws. And there- 
 fore when, because original impressions were become so 
 obscure and illegible in our natures, it became necessary 
 there should be a new and more express edition of them in 
 God's written word, this is placed in the very front of them, 
 "Thou shalt have no other gods before me;" which signifies 
 only the ha\ang of a God in name, and no more, if it doth 
 not signify loving Him before all other. Wherefore, when 
 our Saviour was to tell which was the first and great com- 
 mandment, he gives it thus, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
 God, with all thy heart, and ^dth all thy soul, and with all
 
 PART I].] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 179 
 
 thy mind." ^ The thing enjoined by this law is most sub- 
 stantial, — the life and soul of all other dut}^ and without 
 which all that we can do besides is but mere shadow ; for 
 whatsoever we are enjoined to do else, we must understand 
 enjoined to be done out of love to God as the principle 
 whence it must proceed ; and, not proceeding thence, the 
 moral goodness of it vanishes as a beam cut off from the sun : 
 for on this — with the other, which is like unto it, and which 
 also hangs upon this — '' hang all the law and the prophets." 
 And what ! durst thou, who knowest God, or rather art 
 known of him, neglect so great and substantial a duty? 
 This is not like the command of wearing fringe on the 
 borders of the garment, or of not wearing a garment of linen 
 and woollen ; wherein, sure, they whom it concerned should 
 have been very undutiful to have disobeyed ; but it is the 
 very greatest among the great things of the law, — a duty 
 upon which all duty depends, even for life and breath ! 
 Should not this have obtained in thy practice, that ought 
 to run through and animate all the rest ? or was it fit it 
 should lie dead and bound up in the habitual principle, and 
 not go forth, or very rarely, into act and exercise ? or didst 
 thou do thy duty herein, by being only inclined to do it ? or 
 would not the inclination, if it were right, infer (or otherwise 
 is it like to last long without) suitable .exercise ? Why was 
 so exjorcss a laio neglected? — so often enjoined, — or the practice 
 mentioned with approbation or the neglect of it animadverted 
 upon with abhorrence, in the very terms or in terms evidently 
 enough of the same import, — in the sacred volume.^ How 
 could you turn over the leaves of that book, and not often 
 meet with such words, " Rejoice in the Lord, ye righteous " 
 — "Rejoice in the Lord" — "And again I say imto you, 
 Rejoice?"^ etc. Should not so frequent inculcations of the 
 same thing have been answered by the frequency and con- 
 tinuedness of your practice of it? Or was it enough now 
 
 1 Matt. xxii. 37. 
 
 2 Isa. Iv. 1 — 3 ; Ps. xliv. 8 ; Job xx™. 10, xxxiv. 9; Isa. h^ii. 14. 
 ^ Ps. xxxiii. 1, xc^-ii. 12 ; Phil. iii. 1, iv. 4.
 
 180 A TREATISE [part u. 
 
 and then, as it were casually and by chance, to hit upon the 
 doing of what is so momentous a part of your religion and 
 ought to be the business of your life ? Ought it not to cut 
 your heart, to find yourself convicted herein of a disobedient 
 omission ? and when the great God exacts that stated 
 homage from you, — a frequent, practical, explicit recognition 
 and owning of him as the supreme delight, the great solace, 
 repose, and rest of your souls, — that you have been so little 
 awed with the apprehension of his authority and right in 
 this case ? when he hath mercifully chosen to make that the 
 matter of his command and claim, wherein your own ad- 
 vantage, satisfaction, and content, doth so entirely consist? 
 That your practice is herein disagreeable to a law, speaks it 
 sinful ; that it transgresses so great a law, highly aggravates 
 your sin, — a law so important, upon which so much depends, 
 so express and plain, legible in the very nature of things, 
 and in reference whereto the very excellency of the object 
 wovdd suffice to be a law to you and dictate yoxir duty, if no 
 command had been otherwise given in the case. Surely the 
 neglect of such a law cannot have been without great 
 transgression. 
 
 ii. Your oicn conscience, you will acknowledge, ought to be 
 a ride to you, when it manifestly agrees with that former 
 rule, the supreme and royal law. Do you not find yourselves 
 herein to have offended against that? It may be your 
 sleeping conscience did not find yourself to offend, but do 
 you not find yourself to have offended it, now beginning to 
 awake ? This is not a doubtful and disputable matter, 
 (perhaps your minding such matters too much hath hindered 
 you in this ;) — surely you will not make a scruple of it, a 
 difficult case of conscience, whether you should take the 
 Lord of heaven and earth for your God ; whether you shoidd 
 choose him for your portion, seek rest in him, and place 
 upon him your delight and love. And if in so plain a case 
 your conscience hath not expressed itself ofiended, you have 
 offended against it, in letting it sleep so securely, and not 
 stirring it up to its proper office and work. And know that
 
 PA.RT II.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 181 
 
 sinning against the light of one's own conscience doth not 
 stand only in going against the actual deliberated thoughts 
 which we have had, but also in walking contrary to our 
 habitual knowledge and the thoughts and apprehensions 
 which thence we might and should actually have had. 
 Inadvertency, and disregard of known duty is the most usual 
 way of sinning against conscience. And besides, have you 
 not in this often gone against the repeated checks of your 
 own consciences ? Bethink yourselves : have you not in 3^our 
 prayers intermingled frequent confessions of your cold love 
 to God, and that you have taken so Kttle delight in him ? 
 And were those only customary forms with you, and words 
 of course ? Surely — though it might not be urgently 
 enough — your consciences did at such times accuse you. 
 And let that be a dreadful thing in your eyes, to continue 
 a course which, if you consider, you cannot but condemn. 
 And, — 
 
 iii. Ought not your experience to have been instructive to 
 you, as it commonly is to men in other matters ? Have you 
 not in this neglect run counter to such instruction ? By this 
 means you are supposed to have known the sweetness, as by 
 that last mentioned the equity and fitness, of delight in Grod. 
 Have not those been your best hours wherein you coidd 
 freely solace yourselves in him ? — was not one of them better 
 than a thousand otherwise spent ? Did you never find it 
 good for you, in this way, "to draw near to God;"^ and 
 hereupon pronounce them " blessed whom he did choose, and 
 cause to approach unto him?"- And "where is that bless- 
 edness of which ye spake ? " Have ye forgotten that ye 
 ever thus tasted how gracious the Lord was ? And it is Kke 
 you have by your taste found it also an evil thing and bitter 
 to depart from him. Methinks you should reckon it a great 
 increase of your sin, to have gone against your own sense, 
 when especially your superior rule might give you assurance 
 it did not deceive you. And doth it not expressly oblige you 
 
 1 Ps. Ixxiii. 28. ^ Ps. Ixv. 4.
 
 182 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 to follow its guidance, while it puts the character of perfect, 
 or of being come to full age, upon them " who by reason of 
 use " (or " accustomedness ") " have their senses exercised to 
 discern both good and evil ? "^ 
 
 iv. And what will you say to the great ohUgaUons which 
 the love and kindness of God have laid upon you ? Will 
 you not esteem yourselves to have been thereby bound to 
 place your love and delight on him ? Could you decline 
 doing so without putting a slight upon his love, who is 
 Infinite in what he is, and who is Love ? Was not his love 
 enough to deserve yours ? — the love of a God, that of a silly 
 worm ? Were you not obliged to love him back again, who 
 was so much beforehand with you in the matter of love ; " to 
 love him who had loved you first ?"^ The first love is 
 therefore perfectly free ; the latter is thereby certainly 
 obliged, and become bounden duty. How variously, and 
 with how mighty demonstration, hath that love expressed 
 and evidenced itself ! It hath not glanced at you, but rested 
 on you and settled in delight. He hath so stood affected 
 towards the people of his choice, and put a name on them on 
 purpose to signify his delight in them.^ "He rejoices over 
 them with joy, and rests in his love " to them.^ " The Lord 
 taketh pleasure in his people."^ " His delights have from of 
 old been with the sons of men."^ Coidd he delight in such 
 as you, and cannot you in him ? Be amazed at this ! How 
 mean an object had he for his delight ! — how glorious and 
 enamouring a one have you, — excellency and love in con- 
 junction ! whereas in you were met deformity and ill-will ! 
 He hath loved you so as to remit to you much, to give to 
 you and for you a great deal more, — Himself and the Son of 
 his delights. He then (thou shouldst recount) did invite 
 thee to delight in him who hath alwaj^s sought thy good, 
 done strange things to effect it, takes pleasure in thy pros- 
 perity, and exercises loving-kindness towards thee with de- 
 light ; who contrived thy happiness ; wrought out thy peace 
 
 1 Heb. V. 14. - 1 John iv. 19. ^ Isa. Ixii. 4. 
 
 < Zeph. iii. 17. ' Ps. cxlix. 4. « Prov. viii. 31.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOD. 183 
 
 at the expense of blood, even liis own ; taught thee the way 
 of life ; eared for thee all thy days, — hath supplied thy wants, 
 borne thy burdens, eased thy griefs, wiped thy tears. And 
 if now he say to thee, ' After all this, couldst thou take no 
 pleasure in me ? ' — will not that confound and shame thee ? 
 He hath expressed his love by his so earnest and at last 
 successful endeavours to gain thine: — by this, that he hath 
 seemed to put a value on it, and that he desisted not till in 
 some degree he had won it ; whereupon there hath been an 
 acquaintance, a friendship, some intimacies between him and 
 thee according as sovereign Majesty hath vouchsafed to 
 descend, and advance sinful dust. And how disingenuous, 
 unbecoming, and unsuitable to all this, is thy strangeness 
 and distance afterwards ! It is more unworthy to cast out of 
 your hearts, than not to have admitted, such a guest. 
 
 V. How contrary is this omission to what by solemn voiv 
 and a stipulation you have bound j'ourselves to ! It hath 
 graciously pleased the blessed God, in his transactions with 
 men, to contrive his laws into the form of a covenant, wherein, 
 upon terms, he binds himself to them ; expecting — what he 
 obtains from such as become his own — their restipulation. 
 Wonderful grace ! that he should article with his creatures 
 and capitulate with the work of his own hands ! And 
 whereas his first and great law — and which virtually, being 
 submitted to, comprehends our obedience to all the rest — is, 
 as hath been noted, " Thou shalt have no other gods before 
 me ; " this also he gives forth often, as the sum and abridg- 
 ment of his covenant, "That he will be our God, and we 
 shall be his people." Now this you have consented to ; and 
 therein bound yourselves — as you have heard our Saviour 
 expounds the first and great commandment — to "love him 
 with all your soul," etc. And how well doth your neglect to 
 delight in him agree and consist with this ! What ! love 
 him with all your soul, in whom you can rarely find jouy- 
 selves to take any pleasure ! Surely your hearts will now 
 misgive, and admit a conviction you have not dealt truhj, ai? 
 well as not kindly, in this. What ! not to keep faith with
 
 184 A TREATISE [part ii, 
 
 tlie righteous God ! To deceive a deceiver, some would 
 tliink not intolerable ; but what pretence can there be for 
 such dealing with the God of Truth ? You have vowed to 
 him ; what think you of this drawing back ? Such trifling 
 with him, the great and terrible God, who keeps covenant 
 and mercy for ever, — how unbecoming is it ! To dally with 
 him as you would with an uncertain, whiffling man ; to be off 
 and on, to say and unsay, that he shall be your God and that 
 he shall not, (for how is he your God if you delight not in 
 him?) — imports little of that solemn gravity and staidness 
 which becomes a transaction with the most high God. " He 
 takes no pleasure in fools ; " wherefore " pay that which thou 
 hast vowed." ^ 
 
 vi, Nor doth it better agree with your relation to him 
 which arises from your covenant. Thence he becomes 
 yours, and you his : " I entered into covenant with thee, and 
 thou becamest mine;" and, the covenant binding on both 
 parts, the relation is mutual ; so that thereby also he becomes 
 yoiirs. It is a most near — represented, therefore, by the 
 nearest among men, even the conjugal — relation ; there- 
 fore how full is that Song of Songs, of expressions im- 
 porting mutual delight suitable thereto ! And what a 
 bondage, as well as incongruity, were that relation without 
 delight ! Have you repented your choice ? If not, why 
 take you not pleasure ? why do you not rejoice and glory 
 in it, even as he professes to do over you? If he should 
 repent, in what case were you? Not to take pleasure in 
 God, your own God, — how strangely uncouth is it ! You 
 are not to consider him as a stranger, an unrelated one. 
 If he were such to you, his own excellencies challenge 
 to be beheld with delight. But you are to reckon and 
 say of him, " This is my beloved, and this is my friend," etc. 
 — "I am his, and he is mine ;" and how ill do such words 
 become the mouth that utters them not from the abundance 
 of the heart, even from a heart abounding and overflowing 
 with love and joy ! 
 
 ' Eccles. V. 4.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING TN GOD. 185 
 
 vii. And how dott the temper of your heart and your 
 practice, while you take not actual, ordinary delight in God, 
 clash and jar with your profession! For admit you do not 
 then make an express verbal profession of actual delight 
 in God at such times when you find it not, yet you still 
 avow yourselves, and woidd be accounted and looked upon, 
 as related to him ; and the just challenges of that relation 
 are not any way answered, but by a course of ordinary 
 actual delight. So much your profession manifestly imports. 
 Whilst you profess the Lord to be your God, you profess him 
 to be your supreme delight. And how is he so, when you 
 seldom have a delightful thought of him or look to him with 
 any pleasure, and the temper of your spirit towards him 
 is usually strange and shy ? And bethink yourselves : Avhat 
 would you then be esteemed ? Such as care not for him, as 
 value him not ? Would you willingly be taken for such in 
 all those long intervals wherein your actual delight in him is 
 wholly discontinued ? Would you not be ashamed the dis- 
 position of your heart towards him at such times should be 
 known ? Do you not desire to be better thought of ? What 
 is there then at the bottom, and under the covert of your 
 yet continued profession at such times, but falsehood? 
 A correspondent affection there is not. Is not your very 
 profession, then, mere dissimulation and a lie, — a conceal- 
 ment and disguise of a heart inwardly bad and naught, but 
 which only comforts itself that it is not known ; that is all 
 day long full of earth and vanity, and wholly taken up with 
 either the contentments, delights and hopes, or the cares, 
 fears and discontents, that do naturally arise from these 
 rile, mean objects, and so are of a kind as mean and vile 
 as they ; only makes a shift to lie hid all the while, and lurk 
 under the appearance such an one hath put on of a lover of 
 God, and one that above all things delights in him ? But is 
 this honest deaKng? or was this, indeed, all that was this 
 while to be got of God, — the credit of being thought his ? 
 
 Yet it may be you will somewhat relieve yourselves, by 
 saying you suppose for all this your profession was not
 
 186 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 altogether false : for you liope there was still a principle 
 in you by wliicli your heart was habitually directed towards 
 God, and Avhereby his interest did still live and was main- 
 tained in you, notwithstanding your many and long diver- 
 sions from him ; and while your profession did signify that, 
 it signified some real thing and so was not a false and 
 lying profession. 
 
 But to this I say. Was this all that your profession was in 
 itself aj)t, and by you designed, to signify ? Surely it was 
 apt and intended to signify more than habitual inclination. 
 It carried the appearance of siich actings Godward as were 
 suitable to your having him for your God ; and you would, 
 it is likely, have been loth it should have been otherwise 
 luiderstood. And surely whatsoever it said or imported more 
 than the truth was false. 
 
 And again, Can you be confident that so much as you 
 suppose was true ? Are you sure of this, that, because 
 you have sometimes found some motions of heart towards 
 God, it is therefore habitually inclined to him, when it very 
 rarely puts forth itself in any suitable acts and for the most 
 part works quite another way ? Whereby are habits to be 
 laiown, but by the frequency of their acts? Do not you 
 know there are many half- inclinations and workings of heart, 
 with some complacency Godward, that prove abortive and 
 come to nothing ; as that * example* of the " stony ground," 
 and that of Ileb. vi. 4 — 6, do more than intimate ? Surely your 
 hope and safety more depend upon your repentance, j^our 
 return and closer adherence to God thereupon, than the 
 supposition your heart is in the main sound and right, amidst 
 those more notable declinings from him. 
 
 But we will admit your supposition true, — which the 
 consideration of the persons we are now dealing with, and 
 the design of this present piece of our discourse, requires, 
 — and take it for granted that amidst this your great neglect, 
 you have, notwithstanding, a principle, a new and holy nature 
 in you, whose tendency is Godward ; whereupon, we further 
 say, then, —
 
 PART II,] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 187 
 
 viii. And doth not your unaccustomedness to this blessed 
 exercise resist the tendencj/ of that neiv nature ? And so your 
 practice, while your hearts run a quite contrary course, — 
 for they are not doing nothing while they are not in 
 this delightful way working towards God, — doth not only 
 offend towards your profession, which it in great part 
 belies, but against that vital principle also which is in 
 you ; and so your very excuse aggravates your sin. Is 
 there indeed such a principle in you ? And whither tends 
 it ? Is it not from God ? And doth it not then natu- 
 rally aim at him and tend towards him, being upon both 
 those accounts, — as well as that it resembles him and is his 
 living image, — called a " participation of the Divine nature ?" 
 Yea, doth it not tend to delight in him ? for it tends to him 
 as the soul's last end and rest. What good principle can 
 you have in you Godward, if you have not love to him? 
 And the property of that is to work tow^ards him by desire, 
 that it may rest in him by delight. Have you faith in God ? 
 That works by this love. Faith is that great power in the 
 holy soul by which it acts from God as a jyrincijjle ; love is 
 that b}'- which it acts towards him as an end: by that it 
 draws from him ; by this it moves to him and rests in him. 
 The same holy, gracious nature — dependently on its great 
 author and cause — inclining it both to this motion and rest, 
 and to the former in order to the latter ; — so, by the work of 
 the new creature is the soul formed purposely for blessedness 
 in God and devotedness to him ; its aspirations, its motions, 
 its very pulse, breathe, tend, and beat this way. Bvit you 
 apply not your souls to delight in God. You bend jouv 
 minds and hearts another way. What are you doing, then ? 
 You are stri^ang against your own life ; you are mortifying 
 all good inclinations towards God, stifling and stopping the 
 breath that your panting heart woidd send forth to him; 
 you are busily crucifying the new creature, instead of the 
 body of sin. There is somewhat in you that would work 
 towards God, and you suffer it not ; and is that weU ? That 
 Divine thing, born of God, of heavenly descent, that hath so
 
 188 A TREATISE [part it. 
 
 mucli in it of sacredness by its extraction and parentage, yoii 
 fear not to do violence to ! 
 
 If indeed such a thing, as you seem to hope, be in 
 you, at some time or other you may perceive which way 
 it beats and tends. The soid in which it hath place is 
 biassed by it Godward; and though often it is not dis- 
 cernible, it sometimes shows its inclination. Other men, 
 and meaner creatures, sleep sometimes, and then their most 
 rooted dispositions appear not ; when they are awake they 
 bewray them, and let them be seen in their actions, motions, 
 and pursuits. The renewed soul hath its sleeping intervals 
 too, and what propensions it hath towards God are little 
 discernible ; and yet even then it sometimes dreams of him, 
 at least between sleeping and waking : "I sleep, but my 
 heart waketh : it is the voice of my beloved." ^ But if 
 you seriously commune with yourselves in your more wakeful 
 seasons, you may perceive what your hearts seek and crave ; 
 some such sense as this may be read in them : " The 
 desire of our soul is to thy name, O Lord, and to the 
 remembrance of thee."^ "One thing have I desired, . . . 
 that will I seek after, ... to behold the beauty" ("the 
 delight," as the word signifies,) "of the Lord."^ And when 
 you observe this discovered inclination, you may see what it 
 is that in j^our too wonted course you repress and strive 
 against. That Divine birth calls for suitable nutriment, 
 more tastes how gracious the Lord is. You will have it 
 feed upon ashes, upon wind and vanity ; or — althovigh it had 
 the best parent, it hath so ill a nurse — when it asks bread, 
 you give it a stone, and let it be stvmg by a scorpion. And 
 the injury strikes higher than at it alone, even, as is obvious, 
 at the very Author of this Divine production ; which there- 
 fore we add as a further aggravation of this evil, namely, — 
 
 ix. That it is cm offence against the Spirit of grace, whose 
 dictates are herein slighted and opposed : for surely with 
 the tendencies of the new creature he concurs. It is main- 
 tained by him as well as produced, — continually depends on 
 1 Caiit. V. 2. 2 laa. xxvi. 8. ^ Ps. xxvii. 4.
 
 PART Ti.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 189 
 
 him as to its being, properties, and all its operations. 
 Notliing, therefore, can be cross to the inclination of a 
 renewed soid, as such, which is not more principally so 
 to the Holy Ghost himself. And particularly, the disposing 
 of the sold unto delight is most expressly ascribed to him, 
 that very disposition being itself "joy in the Holy Ghost ;"^ 
 and we find it numbered among "the fruits of the Spirit."^ 
 You may possibly be less apprehensive of your sin in this, 
 because you find him not dictating to you with that dis- 
 cernible majesty, authority, and glory, that you may thiak 
 agreeable to so great an agent. But you must know he 
 applies himself to us in a way much imitating that of 
 natiu-e. And as in reference to the conservation of our 
 natural beings, we are assm'ed the Fii'st Cause co-operates 
 with inferior causes, for " we live, move, and have our being 
 in him,^'"^ though the Divine influence is not communicated 
 to this purpose with any sensible glory, or so distinguish- 
 ably that we can discern what influence is from the superior 
 cause and what from subordinate ; our reason and faith 
 certainly assure us of what our sense cannot reach in this 
 matter : so it is here also, — the Divine Spirit accommodates 
 himself very much to the same way of working with our own, 
 and acts us suitably to our own natures. And though by 
 very sensible tokens we cannot always tell which be the 
 motions that proceed from him, yet faith teaches us from his 
 word to ascribe to him whatever spiritual good we find in 
 ourselves, inasmuch as we are not of ourselves sufiicient to 
 think a good thought. And if by that word we judge of the 
 various motions that stir in us, we may discern which are 
 good and which not, and so may know what to ascribe to the 
 Spirit, and what not. Whereas, therefore, that word com- 
 mands us to delight in God, if we find any motion in our 
 hearts tending that way, we are presently to own the finger 
 of God and the touch of his Holy Spirit therein. And what ! 
 have you found no such motions excited, no thoughts cast in 
 that have had this aspect and tendency, which your indulged 
 
 1 Rom. xiv. 17. - Gal. v. 22. » Acts xvii. 28.
 
 190 A TREATISE [past il. 
 
 carnality and aversion have repressed and counter-wrouglit ? 
 Herein you have grieved and quenched the Spirit. 
 
 And if it have not over-horne you into what you should 
 have understood to have been your duty, but have, upon 
 your untractableness, retired and withdrawn from you, do 
 not therefore make the less reckoning of the matter, — but 
 the more rather : this carries more in it of awful consi- 
 deration to you, and smarter rebuke, that he desistecL You 
 must consider him as a free agent, and who " works to will 
 and to do of his good pleasure." His influence is retract- 
 able ; and when it is retracted, you ought in this case to 
 reckon it signifies a resentment of your imdutiful and regard- 
 less carriage towards him. And ought you not " to smite 
 upon the thigh " then, and sa}', ' What have I done ? ' You 
 have striven against the Spirit of the most high God ; you 
 have resisted him in the execution of his office when you 
 were committed to his conduct and government ; you have 
 fallen out and quarrelled with your merciftd guide, and 
 slighted at once both his authority and love. This could be 
 no small offence. And you are also to consider, that when 
 such a province was assigned him in reference to you and 
 such as you, and the great God set his Spirit on work about 
 you, it was with a special end and design, being the determi- 
 nation of most wise counsel. And how highly doth this 
 increase the offence, that, — 
 
 s. You have herein directly obstructed the course and 
 progress of that design, that could he no other than the 
 magnifying of his grace in your conduct to blessedness! This is 
 that whereon he hath been intent ; and he hath made his 
 design herein so visible, that "they that run might read" 
 what it was. The very overture to you of placing your 
 delights on him, speaks its end ; it is that whereby he should 
 be most highly acknowledged, and you blessed, both at once. 
 His known design you ought to have reckoned did prescribe 
 to you, and give you a law. It is a part of civility towards 
 even an ordinary man, not to cross his design which I know 
 him earnestly to intend, when it tends no way to my preju-
 
 PART 11.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOU. 191 
 
 dice or any man's ; yea, to do so would, in common interpre- 
 tation, besides rudeness, argue ill-nature and a mischievous 
 disposition. Much raore would duty and just observance 
 towards a superior, challenge so much as not to counter-work 
 him, and awe a well- tempered spirit into subjection and 
 compliance ; but a stiif reluctancy to the great and kno'wn 
 design of the blessed God, meant so directly to our own 
 advantage, speaks so very bad a temper, hath in it such a 
 complication of peevish wilfulness, of luidutifidness and in- 
 gratitude to him, of negligence and disregard of ourselves, 
 that it must want a name to express it. 
 
 And now do you see what evil the neglect of delighting in 
 God — accompanied as it cannot but be with the having your 
 hearts otherwise engaged and vainly busy — doth include and 
 carry in it ? Will you pause a while and deliberate upon it ? 
 Do but make your just and sober estimate by the things that 
 have been mentioned. Measure it by God's laAv, and it 
 imports manifest disobedience in a matter of highest conse- 
 quence ; — by the judgment of your own conscience, and it 
 imports much boldness against light in a very plain case ; — 
 by your experience, and it speaks an uninstructible stupidity 
 or a very heedless, forgetful spirit ; — by the obligation laid 
 upon you by the kindness of this very counsel and offer 
 (besides many other ways), and it hath in it great ingratitude 
 and insensibleness of the greatest love ; — by your covenant, 
 and it imports treachery ; — by your relation, much incon- 
 gruity and undecency ; — by your profession, falsehood and 
 hypocrisy ; — by the tendency of the new nature in you, 
 uimatural violence ; — by the dictates of God's Spirit, great 
 untractableness ; — by his known, declared design in this 
 matter, a most undutifvd disrespect to him, with a most 
 wi'etched carelessness of yourselves as to your nearest and 
 most important concern. One would think it needless to say 
 more. But why shovild we balk anything that so obviously 
 occurs, tending to set forth the exceeding great sinfulness of 
 this sin ? Therefore know that besides its great faultiness in 
 itself, —
 
 192 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 (2.) Mucli also cannot but be derived into it from its very 
 faulty causes. It supposes and argues great evils that flow 
 into it, and from which it hath its rise : — 
 
 i. Great blindness and ignorance of God. For is it possible 
 any should have known and not have loved him, or have 
 beheld his glory and not have been delighted therewith, — 
 and that with such delight and love as should have held a 
 settled seat and residence in them ? And can your ignorance 
 of God be excusable or innocent ? The apostle's words are 
 too applicable : " Some have not the knowledge of God ; I 
 speak it to your shame." ^ Do you pretend to him, and know 
 him not ? worship him so oft, and worship you know not 
 what? had such opportunity of knowing him, and yet be 
 ignorant ? At least it would be thought, " in Judah is God 
 known," and that " his name were great in Israel," where he 
 hath had his "tabernacle and dwelling-place."- Here one 
 would think his altar shoidd not bear the same inscription as 
 at Athens, " To the unknown God." How express hath his 
 discovery of himself been to you, and how amiable ! What 
 was there in it not delectable, or in respect whereof he hath 
 not appeared altogether lovely, — as it were composed of 
 delights? You have had opportunity to behold him clad 
 with the garments of salvation and praise, and as he is in 
 Christ, in that allui'ing posture, " reconciling the world unto 
 himself;" wherein all his attributes have visibly complied to 
 the reconciling design, — his boundless fulness of life and love 
 not obstructed by any of them from flowing out in rich and 
 liberal conmiunications. If you had not excluded that glo- 
 rious, pleasant light wherein he is so to be beheld, you woidd 
 have beheld what had won your hearts fully, and bound 
 them to him in everlasting delight and love. And have you 
 not reason to be ashamed you have not known him better, 
 and to better purpose ? " Alienation from the life of God "^ 
 proceeds from blindness of heart ; that is, a chosen, affected, 
 voluntary blindness. Or, if your knowledge of him be not 
 little,— 
 
 1 ICor. XV. 34. 2 pg. ixxvi. 1, 2. ^ Epi^. iy. ig.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 193 
 
 ii. Your little deliglit in him argues much mmiindfitJness 
 of him ; at least that you have not minded him duly, and 
 according to what you have known. It might here be 
 seasonable to suggest to you how likely it is that several 
 ways your great faultiness in the matter of thinking of God 
 may have contributed to the withholding of your delight 
 from him. Consider, therefore, — 
 
 First, Have not your thoughts of him been slight and 
 transient ? have they not been overly superficial thoughts ; 
 casual only, and such as have dropped into your minds as it 
 were by chance ; fluid and roving, fixed neither uj)on him 
 nor into your hearts ; too much resembling what is said of 
 the wicked man, "God is not in all his thoughts,"^ — 'He 
 hath not been amidst them ?' Your thoughts have not miited 
 upon him, — he hath not been situated and centred in them. 
 Was not this the case ? You bestowed upon him, it may be, 
 now and then a hasty, passant glance, — the careless cast of a 
 wandering eye ; and was this likely to beget an abiding, 
 permanent delight ? Have you been wont to compose your- 
 selves designedly and on purpose to think of him, so as your 
 thoughts might be said to have been directed towards him 
 by the desire and inclining bent of your heart ; — according 
 to that, " The desire of our soul is to thy name, and to the 
 remembrance of thee ?"- Whence it is that it is represented 
 as the usual posture of them whom he reckons among his 
 "jewels," and for whom the "book of remembrance was 
 written," — that "they thought on his name;" a thing that 
 they might be known by, and distinguished from other men."^ 
 Wherefore it is observable that their remembrance of him 
 was thought worth the remembering, and to be transmitted 
 into records never to be forgotten. The evil of your not 
 delighting in God hath a great accession from your negligent 
 thinking of him. 
 
 Secondly, Have not your thoughts of him been loio and 
 mean, — such as have imported light esteem ? Compare them 
 with those admiring thoughts, " Who is like unto thee, O 
 1 Ps. X. 4. 2 Isa. XX vi. 8. » Mai. iii. IG, 17. 
 
 VOL. II. K
 
 194 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 Lord, among the gods? wlio is like thee, glorious in holi- 
 ness?"^ "0 Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in 
 all the earth! "3 How unlike have yours been to such 
 thoughts ! Bethink yourselves how deeply culpable you 
 have made your neglect to delight in God, by your unworthy 
 thoughts, by which you have detracted so unspeakably from 
 the Divine excellency ! Hence you have more to account 
 for than merely not delighting in God ; — a rendering him 
 such to yourselves as if he were not worthy to be delighted 
 in ! How ought this to shake your hearts ! 
 
 Thirdly, Have they not been hard thoughts, — full of censure, 
 and misjudging of his nature, counsels, ways, and works? 
 Have there not been perverse reasonings, with dislike of his 
 methods of government over men in this present state ; as if 
 he had too little kindness for such as you woidd have him 
 favour, and too much for others ; — judging his love and 
 hatred by false measures ? This seems to be much the evil 
 imto which the injunction of delight in God is here opposed 
 in this psalm, and whence it may be estimated how directly 
 that militates against this, and, prevailing, excludes it. 
 Perhaps you have dehghted so little in God because you 
 have thought, (the thing that is so "wearisome" to him !) 
 " Every one that doeth evil is good in the sight of the Lord, 
 and he delighteth in them ; " and have said in your hearts, 
 "Where is the God of judgment?"^ Or have you not been 
 more peccant in your apprehensions of his rules and reso- 
 lutions for the disposing of men as to their eternal states ? 
 Have you not disbelieved the revelation he hath given of his 
 nature, and express declarations of his mind and purpose 
 touching these matters ? Was it not enough for jow to have 
 known his gracious propensions towards retm-ning sinners 
 that desire him again for their God, and willingly accept the 
 grace and submit themselves to the conduct and government 
 of his Son ? Should not this have allured and won your 
 hearts to him, and made you, with himible, thankful admira- 
 tion of his grace, resign and yield yourselves to be his for 
 » Exod. XV. 11. 2 Ps. Yiii. 1. » Mai. ii. 17.
 
 PART 11.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 195 
 
 ever ? Have you not measured your appreliensions of him 
 by the suggestions and misgivings of your guilty, jealous 
 hearts ; or by your experienced animosity, and the implaea- 
 bleness of your own spirits towards such as have oftended 
 you ; as if he could forgive no more than you are disposed to 
 do ? Have you not opposed your own imaginations of him 
 to his express testifications of himself, that " He is love ; slow 
 to anger, and of great mercy," etc. ; and that, " as the 
 heavens are high above the earth, so are his ways above 
 your ways, and his thoughts above your thoughts ? " Have 
 you not, against his plain word, thought him irreconcilable, 
 and averse to the accepting of any atonement for you; 
 prescribed and set bounds to him, and thought joivr sin 
 greater than could be forgiven ? And if hereupon you have 
 not delighted in him, and have found all ingenuous affection 
 towards him stifled within you, — as your not delighting in 
 him was a foid evil, * so* the more sinful, injurious cause, 
 denying the infinite goodness of his nature and giving the 
 lie to his word, hath made it beyond all exj)ression Avorse. 
 And further at least consider, — 
 
 Fourthly, Have not your thoughts of God heen few ? Is not 
 the meditation of him with you an unwonted thing? The 
 Psalmist, resolving to mind him much, to " praise and sing 
 to him as long as he lived, and while he had any being," doth 
 as it were prophesy to himself that his " meditation of him 
 should be sweet." ^ Frequent right thoughts of God will 
 surely be pleasant, delightful thoughts ; but your little 
 delight in God too plainly argues you have minded him but 
 seldom. And how fidl of guilt is your not delighting in 
 God upon this account ! How cheap is the expense of a 
 thought ! What ! that so much should not be done in order 
 to the delightful rest of yoiu" soul in God ? 
 
 iii. It supposes much canialitij, a prone inclination and 
 addictedness to this earth and the things of it ; and there- 
 upon argues in you a very mean, abject spirit. While you 
 can take no pleasure, or do take so little, in God, is there 
 1 Ps. civ. 33, 34. 
 
 K 2
 
 196 A TREATISE [i>aet il, 
 
 nothing else wherein you take pleasure ? and what is it ? 
 God hath in this matter no other rival than this world. It 
 is its "friendship" that is "enmity" to him;^ something or 
 other of it, — " the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, or 
 the pride of life," — prevails far, while "the love of the 
 Father" hath so little place in you.- Whither are you 
 sunk, — into how low and vile a temper of spirit, — when you 
 can take pleasure in so base things rather than in the blessed 
 God, and quit so high and pure delights for mire and dii't ? 
 What hath thus carnalized your minds, that you savour only 
 the things of the flesh, and Divine things are tasteless and 
 without relish? 
 
 Nor are you to think more favourably of your case, if you 
 take little actual complacency in the world also. Probably it 
 is because you have little of it to delight in ; it may be you 
 are more acquainted with the cares of it than the delights ; 
 or your desii-e after it is much larger than your possession. 
 It is all one for that. But what are your hearts most apt to 
 delight in, or what is most agreeable to your temper ? It is 
 the same thing what earthly afiection predominates in you, 
 while the temper of your spirit is earthly, and it is thereby 
 held ofi' from God. Your not having actual earthly delights 
 to put in the balance against heavenly, is only by accident. 
 But all your cares, desires, and hopes of that vile kind, 
 would turn into as vile delights, if you had your wills. In 
 the meantime you are the more excuseless and your sin is the 
 grossei', that even the cares and troubles of this world are of 
 more value with you than delight in God. How far are you 
 from that temper, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and 
 there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee." ^ 
 
 iv. And how sad an argument is it of doicnright aversion 
 and disqfected)iess to God, in a great degree at least, yet 
 remaining ! Whence can your not delighting in him proceed 
 but from this as its most immediate cause ? What coidd 
 hinder you, if your heart were inclined ? Are you not asto- 
 nished to behold this as the state of your case, that you 
 1 Jas. iv. 4. 2 1 John ii. 15, 16. ^ Ps. Ixxiii. 25.
 
 FART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD, 197 
 
 delight not in him because your heart is against it ; that is, 
 from flat enmity ? And what doth more naturally import 
 enmity to anything than to turn off from it, as not being able 
 to take pleasure in it ? So Grod expresses his detestation of 
 apostates, " If any man draw back, my soul shall have no 
 pleasure in him."^ And his contempt of Jeconiah is signified 
 by the like manner of speaking. Do you not tremble to 
 think that this should be the temper of your spirit towards 
 God; and that your estimate of him, as if he were "a despised, 
 broken idol," and as mean a thing as "a vessel wherein is 
 no pleasure?"- Reckon, then, thus with yourself: As your 
 case stands, and things do lie between God and you, your 
 little delight in God can have no more favourable account 
 given of it nor be resolved into any gentler or milder cause 
 than enmity. 
 
 And if this seem to you not to be a cause, but to be coinci- 
 dent and fall in with it, so much the worse. By how much 
 less this enmity hath of antecedency to your neglect, or the 
 more it seems the same with it, so much the more it discovers 
 the evil of the thing itself ; for by what worse name can we 
 call anything than enmity to God ? But we speak of your 
 habitual temper, as that which is the cause of your actual 
 neglect. And since you have a discovery of God as the most 
 delectable object — cannot pretend there is a better — have? 
 leave and free permission to place your delight on him, yea, 
 are earnestly invited and pressed to it, it is plain nothing 
 else is in your way to hinder you ; therefore you delight not 
 in him, because your heart only is averse. 
 
 (3.) We also might insist further to show the evils that 
 ensue and follow upon this neglect, — such, I mean, as do not 
 follow casually and by accident, but which have a very 
 inward connection with it and are its most natural conse- 
 quents, being some way caused by it, or which it doth very 
 directly tend to beget. ' 
 
 And yet these we need not be solicitously curious to distin- 
 guish, as things of a kind altogether diverse from those last 
 1 Heb. X. 38. - Jer. xxii. 28.
 
 198 A TREATISE [part il. 
 
 mentioned under tlie foregoing head. For it is very apparent 
 the same things may both cause little delight in God, and be 
 caused thereby ; as a person may therefore not delight in God 
 because he knows him not, and may therefore be the less apt 
 to entertain the knowledge of him because he hath no delight 
 in him. And the case is the same as to the other things 
 spoken of as causes of this omission ; that is, that it and they 
 may be mutual causes of one another. But it, however, 
 equally serves the design of aggravating the evil of not 
 taking frequent actual delight in God, that hereby sin grows, 
 whether in the same or in different kinds. There is still 
 an increase of sin, though but of the same sort that was in. 
 being before. 
 
 You ought to consider then ; as you take so little dehght in 
 God from that very bad cause, that you have not entertained 
 the right loiowledge of him when you had so great opportu- 
 nity to get much of it, — which makes your matter very ill, — 
 do you not also find that, by your withhokling yourselves from 
 delighting in him, you have still less disposition to seek his 
 more inward acquaintance ? And doth not that make your 
 matter much worse ? If you already laiow somewhat of him, 
 you yet know but in part ; your object is infinite, and this 
 knowledge so excellent that you cannot fidly attain to it ; there 
 is still more to be known. 
 
 Now, therefore, if you did delight much in God, would you 
 not be "pressing hard after him? "^ would you not be "follow- 
 ing on to know" him?- And then would "his goings forth be 
 prepared before you as the morning," and he would be still 
 visiting you with fresh and increasing light ; whereupon 
 your pleasure would be renewed and increased by every fresh 
 view, and consequently your progress would be from sight 
 to sight, and from pleasure to pleasure ; whereas now this 
 wheel stands still, or you are going back into darkness and 
 desolation. Have you not much the more to answer for upon 
 this account ? 
 
 The like may be said as to the rest. The irrectitude and 
 1 Ps. Ixiii. 8. 2 Hos. vi. 3.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 199 
 
 great faultiness of your tliouglits of God, though that con- 
 tribute not a little to your not delighting in him, yet also, if 
 you did delight in him more, would not your thoughts of him 
 be more deeply serious, more highly raised ? would you not 
 be very unapt to take uj) injurious, hard thoughts of him ? 
 Would not his thoughts, once become " precious " to you, be 
 also numerous, or innumerable rather, as the sands of the 
 sea-shore ? ^ Would not your earthly temper, your strange- 
 ness and averseness to him, vanish and wear off, if you were 
 more exercised in actual delightful converses with him? 
 Therefore the permanency and increase of those mentioned 
 evils, and that they have got such settled rooting in you, is 
 all to be charged upon your not applying yourselves to more 
 frequent actual delight in God : besides what may further 
 follow hereupon ; — the languishment and decays of your 
 inward man ; the difficulty you find to trust in God, when 
 you are reduced to straits (as who would commit his con- 
 cernments to one he doth not love ?) ; your impatience of 
 adverse and cross emergencies that may often befall to you ; 
 your aptness to vexation or despondency ; the easy victory a 
 temptation hath over you (as surely he is sooner drawn away 
 from God or into sin against him, who delights not in him) ; 
 your less usefulness in your place and station ; your want of 
 courage, resolution, zeal for God, which are best maintained 
 by delight and the relishes of a sweet complacency taken in 
 him ; your sluggishness in a course of well-doing ; the sense 
 of a toilsome, heavy labour in religion, that it begets you 
 weariness without rest, whence you rather alfect a rest from 
 it than in it and by it ; and, lastly, your continual bondage 
 by the fear of death (which one would not dread, apprehend- 
 ing it only a removal into His presence in whom I delight) ; — 
 all these things (which might have been distinctly insisted 
 on and more expressly accommodated to the present purpose, 
 but that I would not be over-tedious, and that somewhere 
 else some or other of them may fall again in our way,) do 
 bring in great and weighty additions to the evil and guiltiness 
 1 Ps. cxxxix. 17, 18.
 
 200 A TREATISE [part n. 
 
 of this sin, and much tend to lay load upon it, to " fill up 
 its measure," even unto "pressing down and running 
 over." For how just is it to impute to it what it naturally 
 causes, and lay its own impure and viperous births at its own 
 door ! 
 
 And though this discourse hath been drawn out to a greater 
 length than was intended, it will not be lost labour, if, by all 
 that hath been said, any that fear God shall be brought to 
 apprehend more of the odiousness of this sin ; and the self- 
 indulgent thought be banished far from them, that this is 
 either an indifferent matter, or at least, — if it be somewhat a 
 careless, — it is one of their more harmless inadvertencies and 
 omissions ; — which good effect, if, through the blessing of 
 Grod, it may accomplish, there will be the less need unto such 
 to read on, but take their nearer way to the immediate 
 present practice of this great duty. And because also it is 
 to be hoped that the evil of this neglect, once apprehended, 
 will prompt and quicken serious and considering persons to 
 set upon the enjoined duty, it will be the less necessary to 
 enlarge much in that other kind of discourse which we now 
 come to, namely, — 
 
 Secondly, Invitation thereunto ; — wherein yet we have reason 
 to fear it may be too needful to place some part of our present 
 labour. For though in matters of an infinitely inferior 
 nature and concernment, any practice is readily undertaken 
 that is once represented reasonable and gainful, in such a 
 business as this a hundred difficulties are imagined, — we 
 stand as persons that cannot find their hands ; and all the 
 question is, — even if there be some inclination to it, or 
 conviction at least it should be done, — ' But how shall we go 
 about it?' We are apt to "grope as in the dark, even at 
 noon-day," and cannot find the door or way that leads into a 
 practice wherein there is so much both of pleasantness and 
 duty. Therefore, as the case is, the invitation to this exercise 
 ought, if it were possible, to be a kind of inanuductioti ; and 
 it is needful we be not only called and pressed, but even led 
 into it. This, then, we are to endeavour, — the giving
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 201 
 
 of some plain prescriptions that may put us into an easy 
 and direct way of falling expeditely upon this delightful 
 work. 
 
 And here it must be considered, that all, as hath been said, 
 are not in an equal disposition to it. Some are more averse, 
 others less, but all too much ; therefore are we to begin as 
 low as their case may require who are less disposed ; and so 
 proceeding on in our course, somewhat may fall in more 
 suitable to them who are in some disposition to it, but do yet 
 need (as who do not ?) some help and furtherance in order 
 thereto. 
 
 1. Therefore it is necessary that you do dcUbercdehj and 
 resokedh/ design the thing itself. Propose to yourselves 
 delighting in God as a business unto which you will, de- 
 signedly and with stedfast purpose, apply your whole soul. 
 Content not yourselves with light, roving thoughts about it, 
 which many have about divers matters which they never 
 think fit to engage themselves in. Determine the matter 
 fully in your own heart, and say, ' Many projects I have tried 
 in my time, sundry things I have turned my mind unto, to 
 little purpose ; I will now see what there is of delight to be 
 found in God.' The sloth and aversion of a backward heart 
 must be overcome by resolution ; and that resolution be well 
 weighed, deliberately taken up, deeply fixed, that it may last 
 and overcome. And why should you not be resolved in this 
 point ? Is this a matter always to be waived ? Know you 
 another way to be happy? Are you yet to learn that a 
 reasonable soul needs the fulness of God to make it happy, 
 and that there is no other God but one ? Can there be any 
 dispute or doubt in the case, when there is but one thing to 
 be done beside yielding one's self to be miserable for ever ? 
 And what need of that, while yet there is one way to avoid 
 it ? Surely that there is but one, is better than if there were 
 a thousand. You need not now be long in choosing ; nor do 
 you need to deliberate because of any doubt in the case, but 
 that you may more fully comprehend in your own thoughts 
 that there is none, and that your resolution may hereupon 
 
 K 3
 
 202 A TREATISE [part ii, 
 
 grow tlie more peremptory, and secure from the danger of 
 any change. 
 
 To talk of any difficulty in the matter is a strange imper- 
 tinency ; for who woidd oppose difficulty to necessity, or 
 allege the thing is hard which must be done ? Or must it be 
 done, and never be attempted ? or attempted, and not be 
 resolved upon ? You have nothing to do to read further who 
 will not digest this first counsel, and here settle your resolu- 
 tion, ' I will apply myself to a course of delight in God.' 
 If this appear not reasonable to you, despair that anything 
 will that follows. It is foolish trifling to look upon such 
 writings that profess their design and have it in their fronts, 
 that they are meant for helps unto Christian practice, only 
 with a humour of seeing what a man can say. And if ever 
 you wiU be in earnest, you must return to this point ; and will 
 but waste time to no purpose, if you will not now set down 
 your resolution ; — that is, that you will seek a happiness for 
 your soul, too long already neglected, — a happiness that may 
 satisfy and last ; and where only it is to be found, — in the 
 blessed God ; and in him by setting yourselves to delight in 
 him, since nothing can make you happy wherein you delight 
 not ; and that you will make use of what you further read, 
 according as you find it conducing and apt to serve your 
 purpose herein. Then next, — 
 
 2. Consider your present state Oochvard. Must you, do 
 you see you must, come to this point, of having your delight 
 in God? In what postiu^e, then, are your afiairs towards 
 him ? How do things stand between him and you ? You do 
 well know you were unacceptable to him, and'^his enemy, and 
 that his justice and holy nature obliged him to hold you as 
 such, though he never gave you ground to think him implacable. 
 Can you delight in an enemy who — as matters in that case 
 stand — must be apprehended ready to avenge himself on you, 
 and as having " whet his glittering sword, and made the 
 arrow ready upon the string," directed against your very 
 heart ? Apprehend this to have been your case, and most 
 deservedly; that you were an impure, hateful wretch,
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 203 
 
 deforniecl and loatlisome, one that could jaeld the holy God 
 no matter of delight, full of enmity and contrariety to 
 him, and in whom he could not but find much cause of most 
 just hatred. Remember you were one of his revolted crea- 
 tures, under his most deserved wrath and curse. Know at 
 how vast a distance you were from delighting in him, or a 
 state that could admit of it. Consider, is this still jowv case ? 
 and do not rashly think it altered, or that you have nothing 
 to do but out of hand to rush upon the business of delighting 
 in God. 
 
 3. Yet do not think it unaUcrahle. Do not conclude it as 
 a determined and undoubted thing, that matters can never 
 be taken up between God and you, or you become suitable 
 and acceptable to him. Look not upon your vile, wicked 
 heart as unalterably wicked ; nor upon him, therefore, as an 
 irreconcilable enemy. Account he waits for your turning to 
 him, as being inclined to friendship with you. Otherwise, 
 would vengeance have suffered you so long to live ? Have 
 you not been long at his mercy ? Hath he not spared you, 
 when it was in his power to crush you at pleasure ? Do not 
 think, therefore — what you have no pretence for — that he 
 hath a destructive design upon you, and will accept of no 
 atonement. 
 
 4. Acquaint yourself with the way and terms upon which 
 his gospel declares him rcconcilahle ; — that is, that he will never 
 be reconciled to you while you remain wicked ; nor for your 
 own sake, become you never so good ; that a more costly 
 sacrifice than you can either procure or be must expiate your 
 guilt and make your peace. If this matter could have been 
 effected in a less expensive way, the Son of God had not 
 (as you know he was) been designed himself, and made that 
 sacrifice ; nor a work have been undertaken by him that 
 might as well have been done by common hands. And since 
 he submitted and undertook as he did, reckon with yourself 
 how highly j ust it is that the entire honour of so merciful 
 condescension and so great a performance, be wholly ascribed 
 to him. But withal, loiow he shed his blood, not in kindness
 
 204 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 to yoiir sin, but to i/ou, — and tliat his design was at once to 
 procure the death of that, and your life ; that you need his 
 Spirit as well as his blood, — that to recommend and reconcile 
 you to his holiness, as well as this to his vindictive justice ; 
 that as you expect ever to experience and taste the delights 
 of that communion whereinto he calls you, you must not 
 only have the "blood of Christ to cleanse you from all sin," 
 but must also "walk in the light, as he is in the light ;"i that 
 an entire resignation, a betrusting and subjecting of yourself 
 to the mercy and governing power of the Redeemer, is 
 necessary to the setting of things right between God and 
 you, in whom only you may both accept God and be accepted 
 of him ; that he must be the centre of union between God 
 and you, and that union the ground of all delightful inter- 
 course. 
 
 5. Make request to him that he would draw you into that 
 union with his Son, unto whom none can come but who are 
 drawn by himself.^ Do not dream and slumber in this 
 business, but know your all depends on it. Consider the 
 exigency of your case. Do you find your heart sluggish and 
 indisposed to any such transaction with God and Christ? 
 doth it decline and draw back ? Know it herein doth but act 
 its own nature and do as it is, or like, itself. Therefore stir 
 up yourself to "take hold of his strength," in which way, if 
 you have mind to be at peace, you "shall make peace." ^ 
 Cry to him earnestly, ' Draw a poor wretch out of darkness 
 and death, that must otherwise be at eternal distance from 
 Thee, and be miserable for ever. Join me to Him who will 
 bring me to Thee, and make me one for ever with Thee.' 
 Hereupon, — 
 
 6. Accepting Jesus Christ as thij Saviour and thy Lord, 
 accept in him, with all humble reverence, thankfulness, and 
 admiration of Divine mercy and goodness, the Messed God to 
 he thy God; surrendering and yielding up thyself entirely 
 and fully to be his for ever. Do this unfeignedly, and with 
 great solemnity ; and let it be to thee for an everlasting 
 
 1 1 John i. 7. - John vi. 44. ^ jg^ xxvii. 5.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 205 
 
 memorial. Record it as a memorable day, wherein thou 
 didst go out of thyself, and aU finite, narrow, limited good, 
 and pass into union with the eternal, immense, incomprehen- 
 sible and all-comprehending Good, and enter upon it as thine 
 own. And what ! wilt thou delight in a God that is not 
 thine ? Canst thou be content to look wistly on him, as one 
 unrelated and a stranger ? Apprehend — and bless God that 
 this is the state of the case — that in this way he offers 
 himself most freely to thee. It were asitonishing to think of 
 purchcmng so great a good, — the matter were not to be 
 offered at. But how transporting is it, that nothing but 
 acceptance and resignation should be needful to make thee 
 one '^ith the great God, and make his fulness thine ! There- 
 fore make haste to do this, and be not hasty in doing it. 
 Defer not, but do it with great seriousness, deliberation, and 
 fulness of consent ; considering you are about to enter into 
 an everlasting covenant, not to be forgotten, and doing a 
 thing never to be again undone. 
 
 x^ow if herein your heart be sincere, and there be a real 
 and vital exercise of your very soul in this transaction with 
 God in Christ, so as that you trvdy take him for your God, 
 preferring him in your estimation and choice above all 
 things, and giving up yom^self absolutely and without reser- 
 vation to him as his, to be governed and disposed of by him 
 in all things at his pleasure, you are hereby brought into 
 that state that doth admit of delio-htino- in him. 
 
 And what remains to be said will concern you as persons 
 in a nearer capacity, and who have a kind of fimdamental 
 aptitude and disposedness of heart unto this spiritual work, 
 and will therefore be directed to j^ou considered according to 
 that supposition. Only it is withal to be considered, in the 
 case of many such, that they were arrived hither long ago, 
 and been, as was before supposed, hereupon somewhat exer- 
 cised and versed in this piece of holj^ practice, — have had 
 many pleasant turns with God, and tasted often the delights 
 of his converse ; but have discontinued their course, and are 
 grown strange to him who was their delight, have suffered
 
 206 A TREATISE [part il. 
 
 themselves by insensible degrees to be drawn and tempted 
 away from him ; or there hath been some grosser and more 
 violent rupture, by which they have broken themselves off. 
 It will be requisite to say somewhat more peculiar to these, 
 for the reducing of them again even to this unitive point. 
 After which, what shall ensue may in common concern them 
 and all that are arrived so far together. For such, therefore, 
 whose case this is, it will surely both become and concern 
 you to take this course : — 
 
 1. Make a stand, and bethink yourselves : Can you justify 
 your carriage toicards him ichom you have taken to he your 
 Ood ? can you approve your own way ? Was this all that 
 you obliged yourselves unto in the day of your solemn 
 treaty with him, only to take on j'ou the name of a 
 relation to him, and so — excepting that you would now and 
 then compliment him in some piece of external, heartless 
 homage — take leave, till you meet again with him in another 
 world ; and that in the meantime, this present world, or your 
 carnal self to be gratified and served out of it, should really 
 be your god, and he only bear the name ? Was this indeed 
 your meaning ? Or, if it was, did you deal sincerely in that 
 treaty ? Or can you think it was his meaning, and that he 
 would expect no more from you ? Can you allow yourselves 
 so to interpret his covenant, and give this as the summary 
 account of the tenor of it ? How would you then expound it 
 to nothing, and make a mere trifle of it, and make your 
 religion a fitter service for an inanimate, senseless idol, than 
 the living and true God ! Do j^ou not yet know what the 
 name of God imports ? Can he be a God to you, that is not 
 acknowledged by you as your very best, the universal and 
 absolutely all-comprehending, good ? But if you apprehend 
 there was really more in the matter, and that you have been 
 altogether faulty in this thing, then, — 
 
 2. Represent to yourselves as fully as you can the greatness 
 of the fiult. What ! have you made God an unnecessary 
 thing to you, while the creature, your very idols, lying 
 vanities, were thought necessary, and these were the things
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 207 
 
 upon wliich you thouglit fit to set your hearts, " whicli you 
 have loved, which you have served, after which you have 
 walked, which you have sought, and whom you have wor- 
 shipped?"^ — the heap of expressions wherewith it seemed 
 meet to the Spirit of God to set out the profuse lavishness of 
 idolatrous affection. Think how monstrous this is ! Revolve 
 in your own minds the several aggravations of your sinful 
 neglect before mentioned, and labour to feel the weight of 
 them upon your own spirits. Think what time you have lost 
 from pleasant, delightful walking with God; what damage 
 you have done yourselves ; how far you might have attained ; 
 how much you are cast behind in your preparations for a 
 blessed eternity ; what wrong you have done him, whom you 
 took for the God of your life, to whom you vowed your hearts 
 and souls ; how little kindly and truly you have dealt with 
 him ! 
 
 3. Return to him idtli iceeping and supplication. Open 
 yourselves freely to him. Let him hear you bemoaning 
 yourselves ; pour out j'our souls to him in large acknowledg- 
 ments and confessions of your guiltiness ; which, while you 
 keep silence, will consume your bones and waste you to 
 nothing. " Remember whence you are fallen, and repent, 
 and do your first works : " till then, he hath this " against 
 you," that you have "left your first love."" And consider, 
 is it not a grievous thing to you, doth it not pain your 
 hearts, that your Lord and Redeemer should have somewhat 
 against you, as it were laid up, noted, and put on record, 
 kept in store, and, as himself remarkably expresses it, 
 "sealed up among his treasures,"^ — somewhat that sticks 
 with him, and which he bears in mind and hath lying in his 
 heart against you ? Is this a small thing with you, when 
 that must be apprehended to be his sense, (and suppose him 
 saying to you,) "'I remember the kindness of thy youth, the 
 love of thine espousals ; " and now since those former days, 
 "what iniquity hast thou found in me, that thou art gone 
 far from me, and hast walked after vanit}^, and art become 
 1 Jer. viii. 2. - E-ev. ii. 4, 5. ^ Deut. xxxii. 34.
 
 208 A TREATISE [part II, 
 
 vain?"'^ How confounding a tiling were it if he should 
 say, as sometime to others in a case resembling yours, (and 
 why shoidd you not take it as equally belonging to you ?) 
 " my people, what have I done unto thee ? and wherein 
 have I wearied thee ? testify against me ! "^ And while the 
 case admits such sharp and cutting rebuke, and that it is 
 the matter of rebuke (not rebuke itself abstracted from the 
 matter, — that is, if it were causeless,) that should smart or 
 wound, how becoming is it, and suitable to the case, to cast 
 down a wounded, bleeding heart before the Lord, and be 
 abased in the dust at the footstool of his mercy-seat ! And 
 though your sin be great and heinous, — 
 
 4. Yet apprehend you are before a mercy-seat, — that " there 
 is forgiveness with him, that he may be feared." How 
 would this apprehension promote the humiliation which the 
 case requires ! A sullen despondency, that excludes hope of 
 mercy, hardens the heart ; continues the sinful, comfortless 
 distance. Therefore apply yourselves to him ; seek his 
 pardon in the blood of the Redeemer ; know you need it, 
 and that it is only upon such terms to be obtained. Yet also 
 take heed lest any diminishing thoughts of the evil of your 
 sin return, and make you neglect the thing, or waive the 
 known, stated way of remission. We are apt to look upon 
 crimes whereby men are immediately ofiended, and which 
 therefore are of worse reputation iamong men, as robbery, 
 murder, etc., as very horrid. This is a matter that lies 
 immediately between Spirit and spirit, — the " God of the 
 spirits of all flesh," and your spirit. You have had a solemn 
 transaction with him, and have dealt falsely. And though 
 the matter were secret between God and you, is it the less 
 evil in itself for that ? If j^ou had dealt unworthily, and 
 used base treachery towards a friend, in a matter only known 
 to him and yourself, would you not, when you have reflected, 
 blush to see his face, till matters be composed betwixt you ? 
 And is there another way of having them composed, and of 
 restoring delightfid, friendly converse, than by your seeking 
 1 Jer. ii. 2, 5. 2 Micah vi. 3.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 209 
 
 his pardon, and his granting it ? Coidd you have the confi- 
 dence to put yourself upon conversing with him as at former 
 times, without such a preface ; or were it not great immo- 
 desty and impudence to offer at it ? But that when this 
 hath been the case between the blessed God and you, and 
 you now come with deep resentments, and serious, unfeigned 
 acknowledgments of your most offensive neglects of him, to 
 seek forgiveness at his hand, he should be easy and facile to 
 forgive, — how should this melt you down before him ! And 
 this is what his own word obliges you to apprehend and 
 believe of him. These words he hath required to be pro- 
 claimed to you : " Return, you backsliding ones, and I will 
 not cause mine anger to fall upon you ; for I am mercifid, 
 saith the Lord, and I will not keep anger for ever. Only 
 acknowledge your iniquity, that you have transgressed 
 against the Lord your God, and have scattered your ways to 
 the strangers under every green tree ; " (your offence hath 
 been idolatry, as well as theirs :). . . . " tiirn, backsliding 
 children, saith the Lord ; for I am married unto you." ^ 
 
 What heart woidd not break and bleed at this overture ? 
 You can be recovered to no capacity of delighting God, as 
 heretofore, till you sensibly feel the need of great forgiveness, 
 and have a disposition of heart inwardly to relish the sweet- 
 ness and pleasantness of it ; till those words do agree with the 
 sense of your hearts, and you can, as in a transport, cry out, 
 " O the blessedness of the man " (as the expression imports) 
 "whose iniquity is forgiven, and whose sin is covered!"^ etc. 
 And now, when you are come thus far, if the temper of your 
 spirit be right even in this, there will be, in conjunction with 
 the desire, hope, and value of forgiveness, at least an equal 
 dread of such future strangenesses and breaches between 
 God and you ; and that will be very natural to you, which I 
 next add as further advice : — 
 
 5. Most earnestly seeh and crave a better and more fixed 
 temper of spirit, more fully determined and bent Godward ; 
 that your heart maybe "directed into the love of God;" 
 ^ Jer. iii. 12—14. 2 pg, xxxii. 1,
 
 210 A TREATISE [part IT, 
 
 that the " spirit of power, love, and a sound mind," may bear 
 rule in you.^ Be intent upon the recovery of that healthy 
 soundness which, wheresoever it hath place, will, with a 
 certain steady power, and a strong inclining bent of love, 
 carry your heart toward God. And take heed lest you be 
 satisfied in the expectation and hope of forgiveness as to your 
 former neglects of God, without this. 
 
 There is a manifest prejudicedaily accruing to the Christian 
 name and profession, by the unequal estimation which that 
 part of the doctrine of Christ hath that concerns the work of 
 his Spirit iipon us, — regeneration, the new creature, repent- 
 ance, and a holy life ; in comparison of that which concerns 
 his performances and acquisitions for us, — expiation of sin, 
 satisfaction of Divine justice, forgiveness, and acceptance with 
 God. How sweet, ravishing, transporting doctrines, and how 
 pure gospel, are these latter accounted by many, who esteem 
 the former cokl, sapless, unpleasant notions ! Thence comes 
 Christian religion to look with so distorted a face and aspect, 
 as if it suffered a convulsion that hath altered and disguised 
 it unto that degree that it is hardly to be known ; being made 
 to seem as if it imported only a design to rescue some persons 
 from Divine wrath and justice, without ever giving them that 
 disposition of heart which is necessaiy both to their serving 
 of God and their blessedness in him. This is not to be im- 
 puted so much to the misrepresentation made of it by them 
 whose business it hath been to instruct others, — though of 
 them, too many may have been very faulty in almost sup- 
 pressing, or insisting less or very little upon, doctrines of 
 the former strain, while the stream of their discourses hath 
 mostly run upon the other, — for it must be acknowledged, that 
 by very many in our age the absolute necessity of the great 
 heart-change hath been both most clearly represented and as 
 urgently pressed as perhaps in most that have gone before. 
 But the matter is plainly to be most attributed to that de- 
 pravedness of man's nature, whence there is a most unequal 
 and partial reception of the truth of God ; and that which 
 1 2 Thess. iii. 5 ; 2 Tim. i. 7.
 
 PART 11.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 211 
 
 seems, taken apart by itself, to import more of indulg-ence to 
 sinners is readily caught at ; that which more directl}- strikes at 
 the very root of sin is let pass, as if it had never been spoken. 
 And so men make up to themselves a gospel of this tenor and 
 import, that let the temper of their spirits towards God be 
 what it will, if they rely and rest upon the righteousness of 
 Christ, God wiU be reconciled to them ; and they think they 
 need take no further care. But whatever is said in the 
 gospel of Christ besides, of the necessity of being born of God, 
 of jjartaking a Divine nature, of putting off the old man, and 
 putting on the new, etc., is looked upon as if it had been 
 thrown in by chance, and did signify nothing ; and the other, 
 without this, is thought to be pure gospel, as if these were 
 impertinent additions and falsifications ! But will not such 
 men imderstand, that the detracting of anything from the 
 instrument or testament of a man, as well as adding thereto, 
 makes it another thing, and none of his act or deed ? and so, 
 that their pure gospel, as they call it, is another gospel, nay, 
 — because there cannot be another, — no gospel ? Or will they 
 not understand how simply impossible it is, in the very nature 
 of the thing, that the end shoidd be attained, of bringing men 
 to blessedness, — that is, to a delightful rest in God, — without 
 their having a new nature, a heart inclined and bent towai'd 
 God, wrought to a conformity and agreement with God's own 
 holy nature and will, unto which the offer and hope of for- 
 giveness by the blood of Christ is designed to win and form 
 them ? For can men be happy in him in whom they take no 
 delight ; or delight in him to whom the very temper of their 
 spirits is habitually unsuitable and repugnant ? How plain 
 are things to them that are not resolved not to see ! 
 
 Wherefore, beware of contenting yourselves with the mere 
 hope, that upon your having admitted a conviction and felt 
 some regret in your spirits for former strangeness to God, you 
 shall be pardoned ; so as thereupon never to design a redress, 
 but run on the same course as before ; and when you have 
 hereby contracted a new score and the load of your guilt 
 begins to be sensibly heavy upon you, then betake yourselves
 
 Sl2 A TREATISE [part IT, 
 
 to God for a new pardon. What presumptuous trifling is this 
 witli tlie Lord of heaven and earth ! And what do you mean 
 by it, or seem to expect ? Is it not that God should, instead 
 of remitting your sin to you, remit your duty, — cancel the 
 obligation of that very supreme, universal, fundamental law 
 of nature itself, and excuse you quite from ever loving, 
 delighting in him, or setting your heart upon him at all ? 
 Think not forgiveness alone, then, will serve your turn ; it 
 will signify as much as a pardon will do to a malefactor just 
 ready to die of a mortal disease. He, poor man ! as much 
 needs a skilful physician as a merciful prince ; — and so do 
 you : and your matter is nothing the worse, sure, that the 
 person of each is sustained by the same Jesus, and that both 
 parts can be performed by the same hand. And know that a 
 restored rectitude of spirit Godward, a renewed healthiness 
 and soundness of heart, with your actual delighting in God 
 thereupon in your future course, stands in nearer and more 
 immediate connection with your final, perfect, delightful rest 
 and blessedness in him, than your being perpetually forgiven 
 the not doing of it, if this were supposed possible without 
 that. But it is not indeed supposable ; for if God would not 
 therefore hereafter banish you his presence, as now he does 
 not, you would for ever banish yourselves, as now you do. 
 
 6. Let there be a solemn recognition and rencical of your 
 engagement and devoting of yourself to God. Again " take hold 
 of his covenant," and see that it take faster hold of you. Do 
 it as if you had never done it, as if you were now to begin 
 with him ; only that your own sin and his grace ought now 
 to appear greater in your eyes, — tJiat more odious, that you 
 have added treachery to disaffection ; this more glorious and 
 admirable, that yet he hath left open to you a door of hope, 
 and that there is place for repentance, and that he is ready 
 to treat with you again on a new score. With what humility, 
 shame, fear and trembling, distrust of yourself, resolution of 
 future more diligent circumspection and observation of your 
 own spirit, trust and dependence on his, ought this transac- 
 tion now to be managed with the holy God !
 
 PAUT 11.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 213 
 
 And when you are thus returned into the way and course 
 of your dutj^, then may what follows concern 5'ou in common 
 with all others that, being entered, desire direction how to 
 proceed and improve in this holy exercise of delighting in 
 God. Because, therefore, such as have been somewhat prac- 
 tised in this course, and, being convinced of the equity and 
 excellency of it, desire to make progress therein, do yet find a 
 difiiculty in it, — it goes not easily with them, they are easily 
 diverted and can hardly hold on in it, — somewhat is intended 
 to be said that jDossibly may, through the Lord's blessing, be 
 of some use as to that too common case. 
 
 1. Then, let it be your great study and endeavour to get 
 a temper of mind actually, ordinarily, and more entirely spiritual. 
 We suppose the implantation of some holy and spiritual 
 principles in you already ; but that is not enough. For as a 
 mind wholly carnal only savours the things of the flesh, will 
 perpetually withdraw and recoil if you ojEfer it anything 
 tending Godward ; so, in whatsoever degree it is carnal, it 
 will do thus in a proportionable degree. If you say, ' Let me 
 now apply myself to some dehghtful intercoui'se with God,' 
 while an earthly tincture is fresh with you, and it was some 
 carnal thing that made the last impression upon your sjjirit, 
 many excuses will be found out ; — there will be manifold 
 diversions, it will never be thought seasonable, many other 
 things will be jiidged necessary to be minded first. ^Yhere- 
 fore fence against the addictedness of your hearts to those 
 other things. And whereas, through the great advantages 
 that sensible things have upon your senses and imagination, 
 you are in continual danger to be over-borne and held off 
 from God; this you must earnestly intend, to watch and 
 fortify those inlets, and not to give away your souls to sense 
 and the things of sense. Trust not your senses and their 
 objects to parley, but under strict inspection. Kever suffer 
 that they should let in upon you what is suitable and grateful 
 to them at their own pleasure. 
 
 You need to have somewhat else than sense, even a spirit 
 of might and power, that may countermand and overrule
 
 214 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 in every of those ports, and turn "the battle in the gate." 
 Those use to be the places of most strength, and surely here 
 there needs most. Your case and present state cannot admit 
 that you securely give up yourselves to unmixed, unsolicitous 
 delight, even in the best object. If you intermit care and 
 vigilancy, you will soon have such things come in upon you 
 as will make a worse mixture in your delight than they can 
 do, and corrupt and spoil all. Your delight were better to be 
 mixed with holy care than with sinful vanity ; that tends to 
 preserve, tliis utterly to destroy it. Your state is that of 
 conflict and warfare ; you must be content with such spiritual 
 delight as will consist with this state. In a time of war and 
 danger, when a city is beset with a surrounding enemy, and 
 all the inhabitants are to be intent upon common safety, their 
 case will not admit that they should entirely indulge them- 
 selves to ease and pleasure. And surely it is better to bear 
 the inconvenience of watching and guarding themselves, and 
 enjoy the comforts which a rational probability of safety by 
 such means will allow them, than merely, with the mad hope 
 of procuring themselves an opportunity and vacancy for 
 freer delights, to throw open their gates, and permit them- 
 selves and all their delectable things to the rapine and spoil 
 of a merciless enemy. Understand this to be your case : 
 therefore strictly guard all the avenues of your inward man. 
 It is better to resist there, and combat your enemy, than 
 within your walls, who is more easily kept than driven out. 
 There cause every occasion and object, even that importunes 
 and pretends business to you, to make a stand, and diligently 
 examine the errand. Let also for this purpose a spirit of 
 wisdom and judgment reside here, (the gate was wont to be 
 the place of counsel and judgment as well as strength,) that 
 may prudently consider what is to be entertained and what 
 not, and determine and do accordingly. But if you will have 
 no rule over your own spii'it, but let it be as a " city broken 
 down and without walls," ^ if you will live careless and at 
 ease, and think in this way to have delight in God ; your 
 1 Prov. XXV. 28.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 215 
 
 delight will soon find other objects, and grow like that of the 
 " swine wallowing in the mire," — become sensual, impure, 
 and at length turn all to " gall and wormwood." 
 
 It may be you have known some, of much pretence to 
 piety, that would allow themselves the liberty of being 
 otherwise very pleasant in their usual conversation ; by which 
 you may imagine delight in God — which you cannot suppose 
 such persons unacquainted with — may fairly consist with 
 another sort of delight. Nor indeed is it to be doubted but 
 it may ; for the rules and measures which the holy God hath 
 set us import no such rigorous severity nor do confine us to 
 so very narrow bomids, but that there is scope and latitude 
 enough left unto the satisfaction of sober desires and inclina- 
 tions that are of a meaner kind. He that hath adjoined the 
 inferior faculties we find in oiu'selves to our natures, and at 
 first created a terrestrial paradise for innocent man, never 
 intended to forbid the gratification of those faculties, nor hath 
 given us any reason to doubt but that the lower delights that 
 are suitable to them might be innocently entertained : nay, 
 and the very rvdes themselves of temperance and sobriety, 
 which he hath given us for the guiding and governing of 
 sensitive desires, do plainly imply that they are permitted ; 
 for that which ought not to be, is not to be regidated, but 
 destroyed. But then, whereas such rules do so limit the in- 
 clinations and functions of the low animal life, as that they 
 may be consistent with our end and subservient to it, how 
 perverse and wicked an indulgence to them were it, to oppose 
 them at once both to the authority of Him that set us those 
 rules, and, therein, to our very end itself ! That delectation 
 in the things of this lower world which is not by the Divine 
 law forbidden and declared evil, either in itself or by the 
 undue measure, season, or other circumstances thereof, is 
 abundantly sufiicient for our entertainment, and the gratifica- 
 tion of this grosser part, while we are in this our earthly 
 pilgrimage ; and so much can never hurt us, nor hinder our 
 higher delights. God hath fenced and hedged them in for 
 us, as a garden enclosed, by his own rules and laws set about
 
 216 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 tliem ; so tliat we cannot prejudice or impair them but by 
 breaking tlirough bis enclosure. Our great care and study, 
 therefore, must be, to repress and mortify aU earthly and 
 sensual incKnations, unto that degree as till they be reduced 
 to a conformity and agreement with his rides and measirres ; 
 unto which they who have no regard, and do yet pretend highly 
 to spirituality and delight in God, it is apparently nothing 
 else but mere hollow^ pretence ; — they only put on a good 
 face and make a fair show, look big and speak " great 
 swelling words of vanity," as they must be called, while 
 their hearts taste nothing of what their tongues utter. 
 Spiritual delight and joy is a severe thing, separated from 
 vain and unbecoming levities, as well as from all earthly 
 impurities, and only grows and flourishes in a soul that is 
 dead to this world, and " alive to God through Jesus Christ." 
 
 See then to the usual temper of your spirit, and do not 
 think it enough that you hope the great renewing change did 
 sometime pass upon it, and that therefore your case is good 
 and safe, and you may now take your ease and liberty ; but be 
 intent upon this, to get into a confirmed, growing spirituality, 
 and that you may find you are, in your ordinary course, "after 
 the Spirit : " then wiU you savour " the things of the Spirit," ^ 
 and then especially will the blessed God himself become your 
 great delight, and your "exceeding joy."" Retire yourself 
 from this world, draw ofi" yom- mind and heart. This is 
 God's great rival. The " friendship of this world is enmity 
 to him;"^ which is elsewhere said of the "carnal mind,"* 
 that is indeed the same thing, namely, a mind that is over- 
 friendly afiected towards this world, or not chastely : where- 
 fore also, in that forementioned Scripture, they that are sup- 
 posed and suspected to have made themselves, in that imdue 
 sense, friends of this world, are bespoken under the names of 
 " adulterers and adulteresses." You must cast off" all other 
 lovers, if you intend delighting in God. Get up, then, into 
 the higher region, where you may be out of the danger 
 of having your spirit engulphed, and, as it were, sucked up of 
 
 1 Eom. viii. 5. - Ps. xliii. 4 ^ Jas. iv. 4. * Rom. viii. 7.
 
 PART n.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 217 
 
 the spirit of tliis world ; or of being subject to its debasing, 
 stupifying influence. Bear yoiirself as the inhabitant of 
 another country. Make this your mark and scope, that the 
 temper of your spirit may be such, that the secret of the 
 Divine presence may become to you as your very element , 
 wherein you can most freely breathe and live and be most at 
 ease, and out of which you may perceive you cannot enjoy 
 yourself ; and that whatever tends to withdraw you from him, 
 any extravagant motion, the beginnings of the excursion or 
 the least departing step, may be sensibly painful and grievous 
 to you. And do not look upon it as a hopeless thing you 
 should ever come to this. Some have come to it : " One 
 thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after ; 
 that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of 
 my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in 
 his temple."^ 
 
 Nor was this a transient fit only with the Psalmist, but Ave 
 find him frequently speaking the same sense : " Surely good- 
 ness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life ; and 
 I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."^ And again 
 we have the like strains : " How amiable are thy taber- 
 nacles, O Lord of hosts ! my soul longeth, yea, even fainteth 
 
 for the courts of the Lord Blessed are they that 
 
 dwell in thy house," ^ etc. And what was this house more to 
 him than another house, save that here he reckoned upon 
 enjoying the Divine presence ? So that here was a heart so 
 naturalized to this presence as to afiect an abode in it, and 
 that he might lead his life icith God, and dwell with him all 
 his days ; — he could not be content with giving a visit now 
 and then. 
 
 And why should this temper of spirit, in the clearer light 
 of the gospel, be looked upon as an unattainable thing ? A 
 lazy despondency, and the mean conceit that it is modest not 
 to aim so high, starves religion, and stifles all truly noble 
 and generous desires. Let this, then, be the thing designed 
 with you, and constant!}^ pursue and drive the design, that 
 
 1 Ps. xx^-ii. 4. - Ps. xxiii. G. ^ p^. ixxxiv. 1, 4. 
 
 VOL. II. 1,
 
 218 A TREATISE [pakt li. 
 
 you may get into this disposition of spirit towards God. His 
 Spirit will not be restrained, if it be duly sought and duti- 
 fully complied with and obeyed ; if you carefully reserve 
 yourself for him, as one whom he hath " set apart for him- 
 self."^ If you will be entirely his, and keep your distance, 
 using a holy, chaste reservedness as to other things, — that 
 is, such things as any way tend to indispose your spirit 
 towards him or render it less suitable to his converse, — he 
 will be no stranger to you. And that it may be more 
 suitable and fit for him, you should habituate and accustom, 
 yourself to converse in the general "^dth spiritual things. 
 You will be as the things are you converse most with ; they 
 will leave their stamp and impress on you ; — wandering after 
 vanity, you "will become vain ; minding earthly things, you 
 will become earthly. Accordingly, being much taken up 
 with spiritual things, you will bear their image, and become 
 spiritual . 
 
 Think how unworthy it is, since you have faculties — and 
 those now refined and improved by Divine light and grace — 
 that are capable of being employed about so much higher 
 objects than those of sense, that you should yield to a con- 
 finement, in so great part, to so low and mean things ; 
 whence it is, that when you should mind things of a higher 
 nature, it is a strange work with you ; and those things seem 
 odd and micouth to you, and are all with you as mere shadow 
 and darkness, that you should be most familiar with. Urge 
 on your spirit ; make it enter into the invisible world. May 
 you not be assured, if you will use jour understanding, that 
 there are things you never saw, that are unspeakably more 
 excellent and glorious than anything you have seen or than 
 can be seen by eyes of flesh ? 
 
 Why should your mind and thoughts be limited within 
 the narrow bounds of this sublunary world, — so small and 
 minute, and, by the apostasy and sin of man, so abject and 
 deformed a part of God's creation ? Do not bind down your 
 spirit to the consideration and view of the afi'airs and con- 
 
 1 Ps. iv. 3.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 219 
 
 cemments onlj'^ of this region of sin and wretchedness, where 
 few things fall under your notice that can be a comfortable, 
 or so greatly edifying and instructive a prospect to a serious 
 spirit. But consider that as certainly as you behold with 
 your eyes the wickedness and miseries of this forlorn world 
 that hath forsaken God and is in great part forsaken of him, 
 so certainly there is a vastly greater world than this, of 
 glorious and innocent creatures, that stand in direct and 
 dutiful subordination to their common Maker and Lord; 
 loving, and beloved of him ; delighting to do his will, and 
 solacing themselves perpetually in his blessed presence, and 
 in the mutual love, communion, and felicity of one another. 
 Unto which happy number — or "innumerable compan}^," 
 rather, as they are called^ — the Redeemer is daily adjoining 
 such as he recovers, and translates out of the ruins and 
 desolation of this miserable, accursed part of the universe. 
 
 Reckon yourself as some way appertaining to that blessed 
 society. Mind the affairs thereof, as those of your own 
 country, and that properly belong to you. When we are 
 taught to pray, " that the will of God may be done on earth, 
 as it is in heaven," can it be supposed it ought to be a 
 strange thing to our thoughts how affairs go there ? Surel}^ 
 faith and holy reason, well used, would furnish us with 
 regular and warrantable notions enough of the state of 
 things above, that we shoidd not need to carry it as persons 
 that have no concern therein ; or, when we are required to 
 be as strangers on earth, that we should make ourselves such 
 to heaven rather. Let your mind be much employed in con- 
 sidering the state of things between God and his creatures. 
 Design a large field for your thoughts to spread themselves 
 in, and you will also find it a fruitful one ; let them rmi 
 backward and forward, and expatiate on every side. Think 
 how all things sprang from God, and among them man, that 
 excellent part of this his lower creation ; what he was to- 
 wards God, and what he is now become. Think of the 
 admirable person, the glorious excellencies, the mighty 
 
 ' Heb. xii. 22. 
 
 L 2
 
 220 A TREATISE [part il. 
 
 design, the wonderful achievements and performances, of the 
 Redeemer ; and the blessed issue he will bring things to at 
 length. Think of, and study much, the nature, parts, and 
 accomplishments of the new creature ; get your mind well 
 instructed and furnished with apprehensions of the whole 
 entire frame of that holy rectitude wherein the image of God 
 upon renewed souls doth consist, — the several lovely orna- 
 ments of the " hidden man of the heart," how it is framed 
 and habited when it is as it shoidd be towards God and 
 towards men. Cast about, and you will not want matter of 
 spiritual employment and exercise for your minds and hearts ; 
 nor have occasion, if any expostulate with you why you 
 mind this earth and the things of sense so much, to say, you 
 know not what else to think of; you may, sure, find many 
 things else. And if you would use j'our thoughts to such 
 converse, and thus daily entertain yourself, in this way you 
 may expect a spiritual frame to grow habitual to you ; and 
 then woidd the rest of your business do itself. You would 
 not need to be pressed and persuaded to delight in God, any 
 more than to do the acts of nature, — to eat, and drink, and 
 move, yea, and draw youi' breath. 
 
 2. Endeavour j^our knowledge, or the concejMon you have of 
 God, may he more distinct and clear. For observe whether, 
 when you would apply yourself to deKght in him, this be not 
 the next, or at least one great obstruction after that of an 
 indisposed, carnal heart, — that though you would, and you 
 know it is fit you should do so, you know not how to go 
 about it ; for you are at a loss what or how to conceive of 
 him. But is it fit it should be always thus ? What ! ever 
 learning, and never arrive to this knowledge ! It is most 
 true, "we can never search out the Almighty imto per- 
 fection ; " and it will always be but a little portion we shall 
 know of that glorious, incomprehensible Being : but since 
 there is a knowledge of God we are required to have our 
 souls furnished with, and whereon eternal life depends, with 
 all gracious dispositions of heart towards him, that are the 
 beginnings of that life, certainly the whole compass of our
 
 P.VRT It.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 221 
 
 duty and blessedness is not all laid upon an impossibility ; 
 and therefore, if we do not so far know as to love and delight 
 in him above all things else, this must be through our own 
 great default, and more to be imputed to our carelessness and 
 contentedness to be ignorant, than that he is unknowable, or 
 hath so reserved and shut up himself from us that we cannot 
 know him. There are many things belonging to the being 
 of God which we are not concerned to know, and which it 
 would be a vain and bold curiosity to pry into ; but what is 
 necessary to direct our practice, and tends to show how we 
 should be and carry ourselves towards him, is not — such 
 hath been his gracious vouchsafement — impossible or difficult 
 to be known. We may apprehend him to be the most 
 excellent Being ; and may descend to many particular excel- 
 lencies, wherein we may easily apprehend him infinitely to 
 surpass all other beings. 
 
 For we most certainly know all things were of him ; and 
 therefore that whatsoever excellency we can observe in crea- 
 tures must be eminently and in highest perfection in him, 
 without the want of anything but what doth itself import 
 weakness and imperfection. And hath it not been his 
 errand and business into the world, who lay " in his bosom," 
 "to declare him?"^ And hath not he, "who at sundry 
 times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the 
 fathers by the prophets, in these last days spoken to us by 
 his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by 
 whom also he made the worlds ; who is the brightness of his 
 glory, and the express image of his person?"" He hath 
 been on earth the visible representation of God to men ; the 
 Divine glory shone in him, the " glory of the only-begotten 
 of the Father, full of grace and truth," Was not that 
 Divine ? 
 
 Suppose we, then, we had seen Christ in the flesh and 
 been the constant observers of his whole conversation on 
 earth, (and though we have not seen it, we have the suffi- 
 cient records of his life and actions in our hands ;) let us, I 
 1 John i. 18. 2 Heb. i. 1, 2.
 
 222 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 say, suppose him from day to day before our eyes, in all his 
 m.eek, humble, lovely deportments among men, and withal 
 in the beams of majesty that appeared through that veil 
 wherein he was pleased to inwrap himself; — if we did 
 observe him going to and fro, and everywhere doing good, 
 scattering blessings wherever he went ; with what compassion 
 and tenderness he healed the sick, instructed the ignorant, 
 supplied and fed the hungr}^ and necessitous ; how he bare 
 with the weak, forgave the injurious (even against his own 
 life), and wept over secure and obstinate sinners ; with what 
 mighty power he cast out devils, raised the dead, commanded 
 winds and seas and they obeyed him ; with what authority, 
 zeal, and conviction, he contested against a hypocritical 
 generation of hardened, impenitent, unbelieving wretches, 
 casting flames of holy, just displeasure in their faces, and 
 threatening them with the damnation of hell ; — and now sup- 
 pose the veil laid aside, and the lustre of all these excellencies 
 shining forth without the interposition of any obscuring 
 cloud or shadow, and such a one is the blessed God ; for this 
 was the express image of his person ; and, as he himself 
 tells us, "they that have seen him have seen the Father : "^ 
 — and do you not now see one to be delighted in ? 
 
 But 5^et further : Can you not frame a notion of wisdom, 
 goodness, justice, holiness, truth, power, with other known 
 perfections, all concurring together in a Being purely spi- 
 ritual, (not obvious to our sense,) and that was eternally and 
 originally of himself, the author and original of all things, 
 and who is therefore over all and in all, infinite and un- 
 changeable in all the perfections before-mentioned ? Surely 
 such conceptions are not impossible to you ? And this is he 
 in whom you are to delight. 
 
 Lift up then your minds above your senses and all sensible 
 things ; use your understandings, whereby you are distin- 
 guished from brute creatures. Consider, this is he from 
 whom you and all things sprang, and in whom your life is. 
 Do you perceive life, wisdom, power, love, in other things ? 
 
 ' Joliu XIV. 9.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 223 
 
 These must all have some or other fountain. Other things 
 have not these of themselves, for they are not of themselves ; 
 therefore they must derive and partake them from him ; and 
 thence it is evident they must be in him in their highest 
 excellency. Of this, your understandings, duly exercised, 
 will render you as sure as if you saw that infinite glory in 
 which all these meet, with your eyes ; and will assure you, 
 it is so much more excellent and glorious, for that it cannot 
 be seen with your eyes. You see the external acts and 
 expressions of these things from such creatures as you are. 
 But life, wisdom, power, love, themselves, are invisible 
 things, which in themselves you cannot see ; yet you are not 
 the less certain that there are such things. And do you not 
 find that the certain evidence you have that these things 
 meet in this or that creature, do render it lovely and 
 delightfid in your eyes ; especially if you have, or apprehend 
 you may have, nearest interest in such a creature ? The 
 blessed God not only hath these things in himself, but is 
 these very things himself; therefore must be invisible, as 
 they are. And because he not only hath them, but is them, 
 therefore they are in him perfectly, unchangeably, and eter- 
 nally, as being his very essence. Think, then, of a Being 
 that is pure, original, substantial life, iviadom, power, love ; 
 and how infinitely amiable and delectable shoidd that ever- 
 blessed Being be unto you ! 
 
 Converse with the word of God. Read his descriptions of 
 himself ; and do not content yourselves to have the words and 
 expressions before your eyes or in your mouths, that represent 
 to you his nature and attributes ; but make your pauses, and 
 consider the things themselves signified by them; — that is, 
 when you read such passages of his own holy Book as that which 
 tells you his name, that he is " The Lord, The Lord God, 
 merciful and gracious," etc. ; or that tell you he is "light," 
 he is "love," he is " God only wise," he is the " Almighty," 
 " God all-sufficient," he is " all in all," and that the 
 "heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain" him; or 
 wherein joxi find him admired as " glorious in holiness ; " or
 
 224 A TREATISE [part il, 
 
 tliat say he '' is what he is," that he is " the first and the 
 last," " the Alpha and Omega," etc. ; labour to fix the appre- 
 hension and true import of all such expressions deep in your 
 mind, that you may have an entire and well-formed repre- 
 sentation of him before you, unto which you may upon all 
 occasions have recourse, and not be at a loss every time you 
 are to apply yourselves to any converse with him, what or 
 how to conceive of him. 
 
 And because mere words, though they may furnish you 
 with a more full and comprehensive notion of him, yet it may 
 be not with so lively a one, or that you find so powerfully 
 striking your heart ; compare, with that account his word 
 gives you of him, the works which your eyes may daily 
 behold and which you are assured were wrought and done by 
 him. To read or hear of his wisdom, power, goodness, etc., 
 and then to have the visible effects within your constant view, 
 that so fully correspond to what his word hath said of him, 
 and demonstrate him to be what you were told he is, — how 
 mighty a confirmation doth this carry with it ! You may 
 behold somewhat of him in every creature. All his works 
 do not only represent, but even praise and commend . him 
 to you. 
 
 Above all, since he is only to be seen in his own light, pray 
 earnestly and continually to "the God of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ, the Father of glory, that he would give unto you the 
 spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him."^ 
 From such as so desire to know him he will not conceal him- 
 self. This is your more direct "following on to know the 
 Lord ; " in which case he hath said, you " shall know," and 
 that his "going forth shall be prepared as the morning."^ 
 By your craving looks and the expecting posture of your 
 waiting eye, you draw forth and invite his enlightening com- 
 munications, which do but wait for an invitation. For it is 
 most reasonable you should feel your want and express your 
 desire of what is so precious, before you find it. Hereby 
 you put yourselves amidst the gloriovis beams of his vital, 
 1 Epb. i. 17. - Hos. vi. 3.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 225 
 
 pleasant light ; or do open your sonls to admit and let it in 
 upon you ; — who, when he finds it is with you a desired thing 
 and longed for, takes more pleasure in imparting, than you 
 can pains in seeking or pleasure in receiving it. 
 
 Not yet, when you have thus attained to some com- 
 petent measure of the knowledge of God, are you to 
 satisfy yourselves that now you are not altogether ignorant ; 
 but, — 
 
 3. Employ your knowledge in frequent and solemn flunking 
 on him ; which is one, and the next end of that knowledge, 
 and a further great means to your delighting in him. Your 
 knowledge of God signifies little to this purpose or any other, 
 if, as it gives you the advantage of ha^ang frequent actual 
 thoughts of him, it be not used to this end. Not having this 
 knowledge, when you would set yourselves seriously to think 
 on God, you are lost in the dark, and know not which way to 
 turn yourselves : and having it, you will be as much strangers 
 to delight in him, if you let your knowledge lie bound up in 
 dead and spiritless notion, and labour not to have it turned 
 into active life and fervent love, by the agitation of your 
 working thoughts. By your musing this fire must be 
 kindled. Do you suppose it possible to delight in God, and 
 not think of him ? If God be the solace and joy of your souls, 
 surely it must be God remembered and minded much, — not 
 neglected and forgotten. " Mj^ soul," saith the Psalmist, 
 " shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness ; and my 
 mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips : when I remember 
 thee on my bed, and meditate upon thee in the night- 
 watches."^ And he at the same time says his "meditation of 
 him shall be sweet," when he says he " will be glad in the 
 Lord." 2 
 
 It is not a brutal delight you are here invited to. Even 
 such creatures have their pleasures also ; and do need thereto, 
 besides a suitable object, only the help and ministry of their 
 senses. Your delight in God can find no way into your hearts, 
 but by the introduction of your exercised minds. There the 
 
 1 Ps. Ixiii. 5. 6. - Ps. civ. 34.
 
 226 A TREATISE [part ti. 
 
 matter must be prepared and formed by M'bicb your delight is to 
 be nourished and maintained. Hereto then you must apply 
 yourselves with design and with serious diligence, and take 
 pains with your recoiling thoughts. Do not make that fulsome 
 pretence to excuse your slothful neglect, that you cannot com- 
 mand your own thoughts. The thing itself is unquestionably 
 true, and that you " are not of yourselves sufficient to think any- 
 thing that is good, as of yourselves ; " and so you may truly 
 enough say that you cannot think any thought at all without 
 God, or so much as draw a breath. Only, as besides your 
 natural dependence on God for the support of your natural 
 life and being, there must be that course taken and those 
 things done, by which, in an orderly course of providence, 
 you may live ; so, for the maintaining of your spiritual life, — 
 which very much stands in delight and joy in God, — you 
 m.ust join a spiritual dependence for that special influence 
 and concurrence which is necessary hereto, with the doing of 
 such things as by God's appointment and prescription are to 
 serve this end. They who complain, therefore, they cannot 
 attain to it, to delight in God, or their delight in him is 
 faint and languishing, while in the meantime they use no 
 endeavour to bend and direct their thoughts towards him, 
 do make as idle a complaint as he that shall say he is in a 
 miserable, starving condition, and nothing nourishes him, 
 who, wanting nothing suitable for him, is so wretchedly 
 slothful that he will be at no pains to prejjare, or so much as 
 eat and chew his own necessary food. You may not imagine 
 you have all that is needful for the well- governing of your 
 spirits in your own hands and power. Nor ought you there- 
 fore to think that what is simply needful is not to he had. 
 God is not behindhand with you : he is no such hard task- 
 master, as to require brick and allow no straw, but may most 
 righteously say, ' Ye are idle, and do therefore only complain 
 like the sluggard in his bed, whose hands cannot endure to 
 labour.' You dare not deliberately go to God, and tell him 
 you do all you can to fix the thoughts of your hearts on him, 
 and yet it will not be ; or that he gives jow no help. Though
 
 PAiiT II.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 227 
 
 he can be no way indebted to you but by bis own free pro- 
 mise, " be g-iveth meat to them that fear him, being ever 
 mindful of bis covenant ; " yea, be doth it for ravens and 
 sparrows ; be will not then famish the souls that crj to him 
 and wait on him : " Their heart shall live that seek God." 
 It is becoming^ and suitable to the state of thinsrs between 
 him and you, that he should put you upon seeking, that you 
 may find. Your reasonable nature and faculties, — especially 
 being ali-eady rectified in some measure, and enlivened by his 
 grace and Spirit, — do require to be held to such terms. It 
 is natural to you to think ; and there is nothing more suitable 
 to the new creature than that you applj^ and set yoiu'selves 
 to think on him, and that your thoughts be set, and held on 
 work, to inquire and seek him out. Know, therefore, you do 
 not your parts unless you make this more yoiu' business. 
 Therefore, to be here more particular, — 
 
 i. Solemnly set yourselves at chosen times to think on God. 
 Meditation is of itself a distinct duty, and must have a consi- 
 derable time allowed it among the other exercises of the 
 Christian life. It challenges a just share and part in the 
 time of our lives ; and he in whom we are to place our 
 delight is, you know, the prime and chief object of this holy 
 work. Is it reasonable, that he who is our life and our all 
 should never be thought on, but now and then, as it were by 
 chance and on the bye ? " My meditation of him shall be 
 sweet." Doth not that imply that it was with the Psalmist 
 a designed thing to meditate on God, —that it was a stated 
 course ? Whereas it was become customary and usual to 
 him, his ordinary practice to appoint times for meditating 
 on God, his weU-lmown exercise (which is supposed), he 
 promises himself satisfaction and solace of soul herein. Let 
 your eyes herein, therefore, "prevent the night-watches." 
 Reckon you have neglected one of the most important busi- 
 nesses of the day, if you have omitted this, and that to such 
 omissions you owe your Little delight in God. Wherein, 
 therefore, are you to rej)air yourselves, but by redressing this 
 great neglect ?
 
 228 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 ii. Think often of him amicht your other affairs. Every 
 one as lie is called, — be his state or way of living what it 
 will, be he bond or free, — is required therein to " abide " 
 with God. ^ And how is that, but by often thinking of 
 him, as being a great part (and fundamental to all the 
 rest) of what can be meant by this abode ? How grateful a 
 mixture would the thoughts of God make with that great 
 variety of other things which we are necessarily to be con- 
 cerned in while we are in this world ! If they be serious 
 and right thoughts, they will be accompanied with some 
 savour and relish of sweetness, and at least tend to keep the 
 heart in a disposition for more delightful, solemn intercourses 
 with God. 
 
 It is a sad truth, (than which also nothing is more appa- 
 rent,) that whatsoever there is either of sinfulness or uncom- 
 fortableness in the lives of those who have engaged and 
 devoted themselves to God, doth in greatest part proceed 
 from their neglect to mind God ; — a thing, if due heed were 
 taken about it, so easy, so little laborious, and the labour 
 whereof — so much as it is — were sure to be recompensed 
 with so unspeakable pleasure. That they are so often lost in 
 darkness, drowned in carnality, buried in earthliness, and 
 overwhelmed with miseries and desolajbions of spirit, and all 
 this for want of a right employing of their thoughts, is from 
 hence only, — they set their thoughts upon things that tend 
 either to corrupt and deprave their spirits or to disquiet and 
 afflict them. 
 
 At this inlet and by the labour of their own thoughts, 
 sins and calamities are brought in upon them as a flood ; 
 which very thoughts, if they were placed and exercised 
 aright, would let in God upon them, fill them with his ful- 
 ness, replenish their souls with his light, grace, and consola- 
 tions. And how much more easy an exercise were it, to 
 keep their thoughts employed upon one object that is ever 
 full, delectable, and present, than to divide them among 
 many, that either lie remote and out of their power, to be 
 
 1 1 Cor. vii. 20.
 
 PAKT 11.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 229 
 
 pursued with anxiety, toil, and very often with disappoint- 
 ment; or, being nearer hand, are to be enjoyed, if they be 
 things that have an appearance of good in them, with much 
 danger and damage to their spirits and with little satisfac- 
 tion ; or, if they appear evil, to be endured with pain and 
 sorrow ! So that the labour of their thoughts among those 
 many things brings them in torture, when their rest upon 
 God alone would be all pleasure, delight, and joy : here their 
 souls might "dwell at ease,"^ or, as those words import, 
 " rest " in goodness, even with that quiet repose which men 
 are wont to take by night, (for so the word we read " dwell " 
 peculiarly signifies,) after the weariness which we may sup- 
 pose to have been contracted by the labour of the foregoing 
 day. 
 
 And if no such sweet and pleasant fruit were to be hoped 
 for from the careful government and ordering of our 
 thoughts, is the obligation of God's law in this matter 
 nothing with us ? Whom we are bound to fear and love, to 
 trust and obey, above all things, — of him are we not bound 
 so much as to think ? And what is loving God with all our 
 mind, so expressly mentioned in that great summary of our 
 duty towards him ? or what can it mean, after the required 
 love of all the heart and all the soul, to add so particularly, 
 " and with all thy mind," whenas the mind, we know, is not 
 the seat of love ? Surely it cannot, at least, but imply that 
 our thoughts must be much exercised upon God, even by the 
 direction of our love, and that our love must be maintained 
 by thoughts of him ; that our minds and hearts must conti- 
 nually correspond and concur to the. loving of God, and so our 
 whole soul be exercised and set on work therein. 
 
 "What doth it mean that our youth is challenged to the 
 remembrance of him?^ What! is our riper age more 
 exempt ? Do we as we longer live by him owe him less ? 
 Doth it signify nothing with us that, as was hinted formerly, 
 the wicked bear this brand in the Scriptures, — they that 
 "forget God?"^ that it is a difiereucing character of his 
 1 Ps. XXV. 13. 2 Eccles. xii. 1. 3 pg fx. 17.
 
 230 ' A TREATISE [part it. 
 
 own people, that they "thought on his name?" Why do 
 we suppose our thoughts exempt from his government or 
 the obligation of his laws ? Why should it be reckoned less 
 insolent to say our thoughts, than " our tongues, are our own, 
 — who is lord over us?" May we do what we will with our 
 thoughts ? Who gave us our thinking power or made us 
 capable of forming a thought ? And now, will we assume 
 the confidence to tell God we think on him all that we can ? 
 How many idle thoughts in the day might we have ex- 
 changed for thoughts of God, and every thought have been 
 to us a spring of pleasure and holy delight in him ! Know, 
 then, that if ever you will do anything in this great matter 
 of delighting in God, you must arrest your thoughts for him 
 and engage them in more constant converse with him ; and, 
 withal, mix prayers with those thoughts, or let them often 
 be praying, craving thoughts, such as may carry with them 
 annexed desires or wherein j^our heart may breathe out 
 requests, — such as that, for instance, " Rejoice the soul of 
 thy servant; for unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul."^ 
 See they be spiritual thoughts, that carry life in them, and 
 aim to draw more. 
 
 But now our thoughts may be conversant about him under 
 very various considerations, and all of them very delightful ; 
 and this variety may much increase our delight, while our 
 minds converse with him, now under one notion, then under 
 another. They are apt to tire and grow weary, being long 
 employed the same way, upon the same thing. And it were 
 an injury to the blessed God himself, when he presents 
 himself under various aspects and appearances, so to take 
 notice of any one as to overlook and neglect the rest. 
 Therefore, — 
 
 4. Look often to him according as, ahsohdehj considered, he 
 is in himself the most excellent Being ; and as, in reference to 
 his creatures, he is the supreme Author and Lord of all. There 
 is an unspeakable pleasure to be taken in him so beheld. 
 Too manj^, while their distrust or their carnality and strange- 
 " Ps. Ixxxvi. 4.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 231 
 
 ness to God holds them iii suspense concerning their own 
 
 special relation to him, are apt to fancy themselves excused 
 
 of delighting in him. It belongs not to them, they think, 
 
 but to some familiar friends and great favourites of his, to 
 
 whom he expresses special kindness, and on whom he places 
 
 the marks of his more peculiar good- will. But do you think 
 
 so to shift and waive the obligation of a vmiversal law upon 
 
 mankind and all reasonable nature ? You are to remember, 
 
 as hath been said, your delight in God is not to be considered 
 
 only as your privilege, but as an act of homage to him that 
 
 made you, and put an intelligent, apprehensive spirit into 
 
 you, by which you are capable of knowing who made you, 
 
 and of beholding your Maker's excellency with admiration 
 
 and delight. And if now you are become guilty and vile, 
 
 will you run into darkness and hide yourselves from him, or 
 
 close your eyes, and then say the sun doth not shine, and 
 
 deny the blessed, glorious God to be what most truly and 
 
 unchangeably he is ? Whatever you are, or have desired he 
 
 should be towards you, yet do him right. Behold and 
 
 confess his glorious excellency, every way most worthy to 
 
 be delighted in. Nor have you rendered yourselves so vile, 
 
 nor had so much cause of apprehending his displeasure 
 
 towards you, by anything so much as this, — your not having 
 
 taken delight in him all this while, and your neglect to take 
 
 the ways, spoken of before, tending to bring you thereto. 
 
 If you think you have no special relation to him, do you 
 
 think you ever shall, if you continue in the temper of your 
 
 spirits strangers to him, and look upon him as one in whom 
 
 you are to take no delight ? Surely it is your dutiful 
 
 affection towards him and complacency in him, that must 
 
 give you ground to hope you are his and he is yours, and 
 
 therefore the beginnings and first degrees of that complacency 
 
 and delight must be in you before ; being begotten by the 
 
 view of that excellency which he hath in himself antecedently 
 
 to his being related to you. 
 
 Yea, and if your relation to him were already as sure and 
 evident to you as can be supposed, yet are you to take heed
 
 232 A TREATISE [part ii. 
 
 of confining your deliglit in him to tliat consideration of him 
 only, or of making it the chief reason of that yovir delight ; 
 for so your delight in him will be more for your own sakes 
 or upon your own account, than his. Learn to look upon 
 things as they are, and not according to their aspect upon 
 your affairs. Is it not a greater thing that he is God, than 
 that he is yours ? It is a purer, a more noble and generous 
 affection to Him you are to aim at, than what is measured 
 only by your private interest. Is that boundless fulness of 
 life, glory, and all perfection, treasured up in the eternal 
 and incomprehensible Being, to be all estimated by the 
 capacity and concerns of a silly worm ? That consideration, 
 therefore, being sometimes laid aside, sit down and con- 
 template God as he is in himself, not disowning, as it is not 
 fit you should, but only waiving the present consideration 
 of any more comfortable relation wherein you may, though 
 most justly, suppose him to stand to you ; and see if you 
 cannot take pleasure in this, that he is great and glorious, 
 and to have a Being so every way perfect before your eyes. 
 Try if it will not be pleasant to you to fall down before him, 
 and give him glory ; to join your praises and triumphant 
 songs to those of saints and angels ; and how much yet also 
 it will add to your satisfaction to behold and acknowledge 
 him exalted above all blessing and praise. How great 
 delight hath been taken in him upon such accounts ! In 
 what transports have holy souls been, upon the view and 
 contemplation of his sovereign power and dominion, his wise 
 and righteous government, his large and flowing goodness, 
 that extends in common to all the works of his hands ! 
 Labour to imitate the ingenuous and loyal affection of this 
 kind, whereof you find many expressions in the sacred 
 volume. For what hath been matter of delight to saints of 
 old, ought surely still as much to be accoimted so. To give 
 instances : — 
 
 You sometimes find them in a most complacential adoration 
 of his wonderful wisdom and counsels : " O the depth of the 
 riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! how
 
 TART II.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOD. . 233 
 
 unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding 
 out!"^ And again: "To God only ^^se, be glory through 
 Jesus Christ for ever. Amen."- "Unto the King eternal, 
 immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory 
 for ever,"^ etc. "To the only wise God our Sa\aour, be 
 glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and 
 ever,"^ etc. Elsewhere we have them in transports ad- 
 miring his holiness : " Who is like unto thee, O Lord, 
 among the gods? who is like thee, glorious in holiness?"^ 
 " There is none holy as the Lord : for there is none besides 
 thee; neither is there any rock like our God."^ And this 
 is recommended and enjoined to his holy ones as the special 
 matter of their joy and praise : " Rejoice in the Lord, ye 
 righteous ; and give thanks at the remembrance of his holi- 
 ness."^ At other times we have their magnificent celebra- 
 tions of his glorious power, and that by way of triumph over 
 the paganish gods : " Our God is in the heavens ; he hath 
 done whatsoever he hath pleased. Their idols are silver and 
 gold," ^ etc. " Be thou exalted. Lord, in thine own strength : 
 so will we sing and praise thy power." ^ "Forsake me not, 
 until I have showed thy strength unto this generation, and 
 thy power to every one that is to come,"^° etc. This is given 
 out as the song of Moses and the Lamb : " "V^Tio shall not 
 fear thee, Lord, and glorify thy name? Great and 
 marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty," ^^ etc. And 
 how do they magnify his mercy and goodness, both towards 
 his own people and his creatures in general : " Oh how great 
 is thy goodness, which thou hast laid up for them that 
 fear thee ; which thou hast wrought for them that trust 
 in thee before the sons of men!"^^ "Rejoice in the Lord, 
 O ye righteous ; for praise is comely for the upright. Praise 
 the Lord with harp ; sing unto him with the psaltery. . . . 
 The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord."^'^ "I will 
 
 1 Ptom. xi. 33. 2 Eom. xvi. 27. ^ 1 Tim. i. 17. " Jude 25. 
 
 5 Exod. XV. 11. •> 1 Sam. ii. 2. 7 Pg. xcvii. 12. * Ps. ex v. ,3, 4. 
 
 »Ps. xxi. 13. 1" Ps. Ixxi. 18. " Rev. xv. 3, 4. 12 Ps. xxxi. 19. 
 
 13 Ps. xxxiii. 1, 5.
 
 234 A TREATISE [part it, 
 
 extol thee, my God, O King ; and I will bless thy name for 
 ever and ever. . . . Men shall speak of the might of thy 
 terrible acts. . . . They shall abundantly utter the memory 
 of thy great goodness, and shall sing of thy righteousness. 
 The Lord is gracious, and full of compassion ; slow to anger, 
 and of great mercy. The Lord is good to all ; and his 
 tender mercies are over all his works." ^ To insert all that 
 might be mentioned to this purpose, were to transcribe a 
 great part of the Bible. And in what raptures do we often 
 find them in the contemplation of his faithfulness and truth, 
 his justice and righteousness, his eternity, the boundlessness 
 of his presence, the greatness of his works, the extensiveness 
 of his dominion, the perpetuity of his kingdom, the exactness 
 of his government : " Who is a strong Lord like unto thee ? 
 or to thy faithfulness round about thee?"^ "Thy mercy, 
 Lord, is in the heavens ; and thy faithfulness reacheth 
 unto the clouds."^ "Before the mountains were brought 
 forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, 
 even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God."* "But 
 will God indeed dwell on the earth ? behold, the heaven and 
 heaven of heavens cannot contain thee!"^ "The works of 
 the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure 
 therein. His work is honourable and glorious,"^ etc. "All 
 thy works shall praise thee, Lord ; and thy saints shall 
 bless thee. They shall speak of the glory of thy kingdom, 
 and talk of thy power ; to make known to the sons of men 
 his mighty acts, and the glorious majesty of his kingdom. 
 Thy kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and thy dominion 
 endureth throughout all generations."^ 
 
 And his glory in the general, — which results from his 
 several excellencies in conjunction, — how loftily is it often 
 celebrated, Avith the expression of the most loyal desires that 
 it may be everywhere renowned, and of greatest compla- 
 cency in as far as it is apprehended so to be : " The glory 
 of the Lord shall endure for ever." " They shall sing in 
 
 ' Ps. cxlv. 1, 6 — 9. - Ps. Ixxxix. 8. ^ Ps. xxxvi. 5. ^ Ps. xc. 2. 
 5 1 Kings viii. 27. « Ps. cxi. 2, 3. '^ Ps. cxlv. 10—13.
 
 PART It.] OF DELIGHTIXG IX GOD. 235 
 
 tlie ways of the Lord ,; for great is tlie glory of the Lord." 
 " Be thou exalted above the heavens ; let thy glory be above 
 all the earth." "Let them praise the name of the Lord ; for 
 his name alone is excellent : his glory is above the earth and 
 heaA^en."^ When you read such passages as these, — whether 
 they be eulogies or commendations of him, or doxologies and 
 direct attributions of glory to him, — you are to bethink your- 
 selves with what temper of heart these things were uttered ; 
 with how raised and exalted a spirit ; what high delight and 
 pleasure was conceived in glorifying Grod, or in beholding 
 him glorious. How large and unbounded a heart, and how 
 full of his praise, doth still everywhere discover itself in such 
 strains, — when all nations, when all creatures, when every- 
 thing that hath breath, when heaven and earth, are invited 
 together, to join in the concert and bear a part in his praises! 
 And now eye him under the same notions under which you 
 have seen him so magnified, that in the same way joii may 
 have your own heart wrought up to the same pitch and 
 temper towards him. Should it not provoke an emulation, 
 and make you covet to be amidst the throng of loyal and 
 devoted souls, when you see them ascending as if they were 
 all incense ; when you behold them dissolving and melting 
 away in delight and love, and ready to expire, even fainting 
 that they can do no more ; designing their very last breath 
 shall go forth in the close of a song : "I will sing unto the 
 IjORD as long as I live ; I will sing praise to my God while I 
 have my being ? " - How becoming is it to resolve, ' This shall 
 be my aim and ambition, to fly the same, and, if it were possible, 
 a greater height.' Read over such psalms^ as are more espe- 
 cially designed for the magnifying of God ; and when you see 
 what were the things that were most taking to so spiritual and 
 pious hearts, thence receive instruction, and aim to have your 
 hearts alike affected and transported with the same things. 
 Frame the supposition that you are meant, that the invitation 
 is directed to you : "0 come, let us sing unto the Lord ; let 
 
 1 Ps. civ. 31, cxxxviii. 5, Ivii. 5, 11, cxlviii. 13. ■ Ps. civ. 33. 
 
 ^ Ps. viii., xlviii., xcv. — xcix., etc.
 
 236 A TREATISE [part il. 
 
 US come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a 
 joyful noise unto him with psalms : for the Lord is a great 
 God, and a great King above all gods," etc. And think with 
 yourselves, ' Is he not as great as he was ? is he not as much 
 our Maker as he was theirs? is it not now as true, that "the 
 Lord reigneth, and is high above all the earth, and exalted 
 far above all gods?'" Now, since these were the considera- 
 tions upon which so great complacency was taken in him, set 
 the same before your own eyes : and since these were proposed 
 as the matter of so common a joy, and the creation seems 
 designed for a musical instrument of as many strings as there 
 are creatures in heaven and earth, " awake," and make haste 
 to get " your heart fixed," lest " the heavens rejoice, and the 
 earth be glad, the world, and all that dwell therein ; " lest 
 " the sea roar, and the fulness thereof, the floods clap their 
 hands, the fields and the hills be joyful together, and all the 
 trees of the wood rejoice before the Lord," while you only 
 are silent and unconcerned. 
 
 And seriously consider the kind and nature of that joy 
 and delight in God wherewith the hearts of holy men did 
 so exceedingly abound ; which is to be collected from the 
 expressed ground and reasons of it, for the most part, where- 
 soever you have any discovery of that joy itself. This general 
 and principal character may be given of it, that it was a 
 sincerely devout and a loyal joy, — not a mean, narrow, sel- 
 fish pleasure, a hugging of themselves in this apprehension 
 merely, ' It is well with me ; ' or, 'I am safe and happy, 
 whatsoever becomes of the world.' This was still the burden 
 of their song, ' The Lord is great, and glorious, and excellent ; 
 is exalted and most high over all.' And it is to be observed, 
 that as this was the common and more usual strain and 
 temper of holy souls in the ages whereof the Scriptures give 
 us any account ; so were doubts and fears, and troubled 
 thoughts concerning their own interest in God, a great deal 
 less usual and common in those days ; so that, in proportion 
 to the other pious and holy exercises of such as were true 
 fearers of God and devoted to him, there is little account
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTI>;G IN GO]). 237 
 
 given us of anything of that kind in the sacred writings, 
 and especially in the New Testament of our Lord ; — an argu- 
 ment, that such as were sincerely rehgious were most taken 
 up about the interest of God and Christ in the world, re- 
 joicing either in the observation of its growth and increase, 
 or in the hope and confidence that it shall grow ; and that 
 they were much less concerned about their own interest ; yea, 
 and that this course did thrive best with them : while they 
 were most intent upon the affairs of their common Lord, their 
 own were well enough provided for. 
 
 We cannot hereupon but note, therefore, by the way, how 
 altered a thing religion is now become. Almost the whole 
 business of it, even among them that more seriously mind 
 anything belonging to it, is a fear of going to hell ; and hence 
 perpetual, endless scruples, doubts, and inquiries about marks 
 and signs, and how to know what is the least degree of that 
 grace which is necessary to their being saved ; — as if the 
 intention were to beat down the price to the very lowest, 
 and dodge always, and cheapen heaven to the utmost ; it 
 may be feared, as to many, with a design not to aim at 
 anything higher than what is merely necessary to that 
 purpose only, and never to mind being excellent, but only 
 being saved. 
 
 And yet also it were well, in a comparative sense, if that 
 itself were minded in good earnest by many that profess 
 beyond the common rate ; and that, whereas their own 
 interest is the thing they most mind, it were not their 
 meanest and least considerable interest, even that of their 
 sense and flesh, and secxdar advantage, — and that imder the 
 pretence too, (which makes the matter so much the worse,) 
 of much love and zeal Godward, and devotedness to his 
 interest, which they supposed involved and wrapped up 
 wholly with theirs. Whence also all their delight and joy 
 is measured only by the aspect of the world and of public 
 afiairs upon them and their private ones ; and they are 
 either overwhelmed with sorrow or transported with joy, 
 according as the state of things doth either frown upon or
 
 238 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 favour their concernments. In the days when the interest of 
 Christ lay more entirely and undividedly amdng one sort of 
 men, and more apparently, (their contests being less among 
 themselves and chiefly with the infidel world,) and they had 
 for the most part no enemies but those in common of the 
 Christian name and cause, so that any common state of 
 sufiering to them was the visible prejudice of that cause and 
 interest, — why, what ! did they delight and please themselves 
 in nothing but a warm sun and halcyon seasons ? Surely 
 they had matter little enough for that sort of joy. And 
 what ! did they therefore dejectedly languish and despond, 
 and give themselves up to sorrow and despair? JYor that 
 neither. Unless they had all had but one neck, and that also 
 perfectly in the enemies' power, it had been an impossible 
 thing to stifle and extinguish their delight and joy ; so fully 
 did Christ make it good to them, that "their sorrow should 
 be turned into joy, and their joy should no man take from 
 them : " for even that increased it which aimed at its sup- 
 pression, and the waters thrown upon their flame became 
 rivers of oil. They had got a secret way of " rejoicing in 
 tribulation, of counting it all joy when they fell into divers 
 temptations," of taking pleasure in reproaches for the sake 
 of Christ, of turning difficidties and hazards into matter of 
 triumph, of " taking joyfully the spoiling of their goods," 
 and glorying to be counted worthy to suffer anything for so 
 excellent a name ; insomuch that though their Head and 
 Lord was in a most ignominious way taken from them, and 
 they left as a despised party of men in the midst of an 
 outrageous world, under the seemingly hopeless profession of 
 addictedness to the interest of a man that died upon a cross 
 among thieves but the other day ; and though many of them 
 never saw his face, but had their knowledge of him by report 
 and hearsay, — " yet believing, they rejoiced with joy un- 
 speakable, and fidl of glory." ^ The matter and ground of 
 their joy was not so uncertain and changeable a thing, nor so 
 light and unsubstantial, as the world's kindness and favour, 
 
 1 1 Pet. i. 8.
 
 FART n.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 239 
 
 and the smooth face of a serene sky. These were true lovers 
 of Christ, and such as counted him worthy, for whom they 
 should do all that lay in their power, and suifer all which it 
 was in the power of any others to do against them upon his 
 account. 
 
 They that rejoice and place their delight in the blessed 
 God himself through Jesus Christ, have for the object of 
 their joy the everlasting "I am," — Him who is "the same 
 yesterday, and to-day, and for ever ; " and whose excellent 
 glory may be clouded indeed, and eclipsed to the world and 
 the eye of sense, but still shines in itself and to the eye of 
 faith, with the same bright and undiminished lustre. That 
 delight will then be continued and permanent and ever 
 springing up in fresh liveliness and vigom-, which is taken in 
 this blessed object considered as it is in itself; and that hath 
 place in a soul that acts in a steady, direct course towards 
 that object, ^-ithout sinister respects or any selfish ones of 
 even the highest kind, otherwise than in that subordination 
 which will be suitable to the A'ast disproportion and ine- 
 quality between God's interest and ours ; — that is, (looking 
 upon our own external concernments as unworthy to be 
 named in the same day,) that though we reckon what there 
 is delectable in God will make for our eternal advantage, yet 
 to consider that advantage of ours so much less, and to be so 
 much more pleased and satisfied that he is in himself blessed 
 and glorious, as it is in itself a thing more considerable that 
 he be so, than it is what becomes of us or of any creature or 
 of this whole creation. We are not indeed concerned, nor 
 may think it warrantable, to put ourselves upon any such 
 severe and unnatm-al trials of our love and fidelity to him as 
 to put the question to our own hearts. Could we be content to 
 lie m hell, or be in the state of the damned for ever, for his 
 glory ? For it were a most injurious and vile supposition of 
 somewhat inconsistent with his own most blessed nature, and 
 eternal, essential felicity, — for his happiness cannot but be 
 much placed in the benignity of his nature, — to imagine that 
 he ever can be pleased or esteem himself glorified, by the
 
 240 A TREATISE [part II, 
 
 everlasting miseries of any one that truly loves him. "VVe 
 ought to abhor the mention or imagination of such a thing, 
 as a blasphemy against his infinite goodness — the denial 
 whereof were to deny his Godhead. And it were also an 
 absurd and seK- contradicting supposition ; for none can be 
 in the state of the damned, but they must be also in a state 
 of extreme enmity to God, and of all wickedness and malig- 
 nity, arrived and grown up to its highest pitch ; which, 
 indeed, is the very horror and inmost centre of hell, — wicked- 
 ness and eternal misery diifering, for the most part, but in 
 degree, as grace and glory do. So that to put ourselves 
 upon this trial of sincerity towards God, were to ask our- 
 selves whether we would be willing to express our sincere 
 love to God by everlasting hatred of him, and the truth of 
 our grace by being as maliciously wicked as the devil and his 
 angels ! The expressions of Moses and Paul, so frequently 
 alleged, can be wire-drawn to no such sense. This is no 
 place to discuss the importance of them. But it were cer- 
 tainly most imprudent, whatsoever they import, to seek 
 marks of sincere love to God thence, which may be fetched 
 from so many plain texts of Scripture. But it is out of 
 question, that we may and ought to mind and take compla- 
 cency in our own blessedness, in a degree inferior and subor- 
 dinate to that which we take in the glory of the blessed God, 
 without making the sinful and absurd supposition of their 
 inconsistency, or that we can ever be put to choose the 
 absence or privation of the one as a means to the other. 
 And such complacency and delight in God as arises upon 
 such grounds is of the right stamp and kind. 
 
 See then that yours be a well-complexioned delight, and 
 such as inwardly partakes of the true nature of religion ; that 
 is, that hath in it entire devotedness to God, as the very life, 
 soul, spirit of it. And if this be not the thing, but merely 
 self-satisfaction, which you chiefly have in pursuit under the 
 name of delight in God, you beat the air, and do but hunt 
 after a shadow. For there is no such thing as real, solid 
 delight in God anywhere existing, or ever will be, separately
 
 PART n,] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 241 
 
 and apart from a supreme love and addictedness of heart to 
 him and his interest, as our chief and utmost end: which 
 temper of spirit towards him must be maintained and im- 
 proved by our fixed intuition and view of his glorious 
 greatness and absolute excellency and perfection, and the 
 congruity and fitness which we thereupon apprehend, that 
 we and all things, as all are of him, shoidd be wholly to 
 him, that he alone may have the glory. 
 
 5. And though you are not to prefer the consideration of 
 your own interest in God as a good suitable to you, or to give 
 it the highest place in your delight, yet also you must take 
 heed of neglecting it or of denying it any place at all. For 
 though we may plainly observe, as hath been said, that it was 
 the usual temper of holy men of old to be most taken up in 
 admiring God upon the account of his o^vn excellency and 
 glory in itself considered, and may thence collect ihat to be 
 the genuine right temper of a gracious heart, when it is most 
 itself; yet also it is as evident that they were far from 
 neglecting their own interest in God and that they counted 
 it not a small matter, — yea, that it had, though not the 
 principal, a very great intiuence upon their delight and joy 
 in him. ISTo one can read the Bible and not have frequent 
 occasion to take notice of this. For how often do we find him 
 spoken of under the names of their " portion," " heritage," 
 etc. ; and in what raptures of joy do we often find them 
 upon that account ! So the Psalmist considers him, when 
 he says, "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; 
 yea, I have a goodly heritage."^ How often do we find 
 them glorying in their relation by covenant, and making 
 their boasts of him as their God : " I will love thee, O 
 Lord, my strength," ^ etc. You have "my" no less than 
 nine times repeated in the beginning (the first and second 
 verses) of that psalm: "My strength," "my rock," "my 
 fortress," " my deliverer," " my God," etc. And afterwards 
 how glorious a triumph is there raised, and in what exulta- 
 tion do we behold them upon this : " Who is God save the 
 
 ' Ps. xvi. 6. 2 Ps. xviii. 1. 
 
 VOL. II. M
 
 242 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 Lord? or who is a rock save our God?" And again, "The 
 Lord liveth, and blessed be my Rock ; and let the God of my 
 salvation be exalted." And this was some of the last holy 
 breath uttered by that " anointed one of the God of Jacob, 
 and the sweet psalmist of Israel :" "He hath made with me 
 an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things, and sure : 
 for this is all my salvation, and all my desire."^ With 
 this, how well satisfied and pleased did he expire, and 
 go down to the grave ! And the people of God are some- 
 time represented as so taken with this apprehension of their 
 peculiar relation to God, that they cannot be content to know, 
 but they proclaim it ; nor was it enough the present age 
 shoidd know, but they must have it told the following gene- 
 ration : " Let mount Zion rejoice Mark, .... that 
 
 ye may tell the generation following : for this God is our 
 God."^ See their ostentation of him, — "This God!" as 
 much as to say, ' Behold what a God have we ! view him 
 well, and take notice how glorious a God he is.' And as they 
 glory in the greatness of the God to whom they were related, 
 so they do in the eternity of the relation : " This God is our 
 God for ever and ever," etc. And how inexpressible was the 
 inward pleasure wherewith we may suppose those words to 
 have been uttered, — "God, even our own God, shall bless 
 us!"^ How delightfid an appropriation! as if it were in- 
 tended to be said, 'The blessing itself were less signi- 
 ficant, it could not have that savour with it, if it were not 
 from our own God.' Not only therefore allow, but urge your 
 spirits thus to look towards God, that you may both delight 
 in him as being in himself the most excellent one, and also 
 as being yours ; for know, you are not permitted only, but 
 obliged to eye, accept, and rejoice in him as siich. It is his 
 first and great law, and the form of his covenant which he 
 requires you to enter into with him, to take him for your 
 God. Herein to be shy and decline, is to rebel. And when he 
 offers himself in all his rich fulness to be your portion and 
 
 1 2 Sam. xxiii. 5. - Ps. xlviii. 11— U. » Ps. Ixvii. 6.
 
 PART IT.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 243 
 
 your God, how vile ingratitude were it to neglect and over- 
 look the kindness of the overture ! It is his glory to have 
 indigent souls satiating themselves in him, drawing from him 
 their vital breath, living upon him as their all ; confessing 
 they cannot live but by his vouchsafed communications. 
 And if you should say you love him, but, — so he be ever 
 glorious in himself, — you care not to be happy ; it would 
 sound like a hollow compliment. You are not to deal with a 
 God upon such terms. It becomes you not, nor is suitable 
 to him. It is fit for you to own it to him that he is your 
 life, — that you are a mere nothing in yourself, and must 
 seek your all in him. Your song and youi- prayer must be 
 directed to him as " the God of your life."^ You do not own 
 him as God, except you o\m and adore him as your all- 
 sufiicient good, and that " fulness which fiUeth all in all." 
 You detract from the glory of his Godliead if you attribute 
 not this to hiin ; and if, accordingl}^, as one that cannot live 
 without him, you do not seek miion with him and join 
 yourself to him, and then rejoice and solace yourself in that 
 blessed conjunction. 
 
 And if you be not sure as yet that he is 3'ours, your 
 delighting in him is not therefore to be suspended and de- 
 layed till you be ; but in the meantime delight in him as 
 willing to become yours. To disbelieve that he is willing, is 
 to give him the lie. It is the great design of his gospel so to 
 represent him to you. See that your hearts do embrace and 
 close with that as a most delightful and lovely represen- 
 tation, — the great and glorious Lord of heaven and earth 
 offering himself in all his fulness to be thine ! thy portion 
 and thy God for ever ! How transporting should this be to 
 you ! Nor, if yovi suspect the sincerity of yovir own heart 
 towards him, — which is the only thing you can have any 
 pretence to suspect, for it were a blasphemy to his truth and 
 goodness to intimate a suspicious thought of him, — may yoii 
 therefore spend all your time in anxious inquiries or in 
 
 1 Ps. xUi. 8. 
 
 m2
 
 244 A THEATISE [vART n. 
 
 looking only upon your own evil heart ; but look most, and 
 with a direct and steady eye, towards him. Behold and 
 view well his glory and his love, that by this means your 
 heart may be captivated and more entirely won to him. 
 
 This makes delight in God a strange thing in the hearts 
 and practice of many. The}^ find too much cause of com- 
 plaint concerning their own hearts, that they are disaffected 
 and disinclined Godward. And what is the course they take 
 hereupon ? Their religion is nothing but complaint ; and all 
 their days are spent in beholding that they are bad, without 
 ever taking the way to become better. They conclude their 
 case to be evil and full of danger because they find they can 
 take no delight in God ; and they will take no delight in 
 him because they have that apprehension of the danger of 
 their case ; and so their not delighting in God resolves into 
 itself, and they delight not in him because they delight not 
 in him. It is strange the absurdity of this is not more 
 reflected on. And what now is to be done in this case ? To 
 rest here, is to be held in a circle of sin and misery all your 
 days ; and woidd signify as if delighting in God were a 
 simple impossibility, or as if not to delight in God were a 
 thing so highly rational as to be its own sufficient self-justifi- 
 cation, and that it were reason enough not to delight in him 
 because we do not. There can be no other way to be taken, 
 but to behold him more in that discovery of him which his 
 gospel sets before your eyes ; and in that way seek to have 
 your hearts taken with his amiableness and love, and allured 
 to delight in him. And labour in this way to have that 
 delight increased to that degree that it may cease to be a 
 question or doubt with you, ' Do I delight in God or no ? ' 
 Whence when you reflect and find that you do, then shall 
 you have that additional matter of further delight, that 
 whereas you before took delight in him because being in 
 himself so excellent a one he hath freely offered himself to 
 you to become yours, you may now delight in him also 
 because you are sure he is so : whereof you cannot have a 
 more satisfying assurance than from his so express saying,
 
 PAKT U.] OF DELIGHTING IX GOD. 245 
 
 "I love them that love me ; "^ and, " We love him, because 
 he first loved us."- 
 
 6. Take especial heed of more ajjpareiit and grosser trans- 
 gressions ; nor account your security from the danger of them 
 so much to stand in your being ordinarily out of the way of 
 temptations to them, as in an habitual frame of holiness and 
 the settled aversion of your heart to them. Endeavour a 
 growing conformity to God in the temper of your spirit, and 
 to be in love Avith purity, — that your heart may no more 
 endure an impure thought than you would fire in yoiu' 
 bosom. If you be herein careless and remiss and suffer your 
 heart to grow dissolute, or more bold and adventurous in 
 admitting sinful cogitations ; or if you have more Hking, or 
 less dislike, of any wicked course wherein others take their 
 liberty, — j'ou are approaching the borders of a dangerous 
 precipice. And if some greater breach hereupon ensue be- 
 tween God and you, what becomes of your dehght in him '? 
 A sad interruption of such pleasant intercourse cannot but 
 follow, both on his part and on yours. On his jmrt, a 
 suspension and restraint of those communications of light 
 and grace which are necessary to your delight in him. He 
 will be just in his way of dealing towards those of his own 
 family, as well as merciful. It ajjpears how much David's 
 delight in God was intermitted upon his great transgression 
 through God's withdrawing from him, when he prays he 
 would " restore the joy of his salvation." ^ And on your part 
 will ensue both less liking of God's presence, and a dread of it. 
 Your inclination will not be towards him, as before ; though 
 the act of sin be soon over, the efiect will remain, — even a 
 carnal frame of spirit, that disaffects converse with God and 
 cares not to come nigh him. And if that were not, a guilty 
 fear would hold you off; so that if you were willing, you 
 would not dare to approach him. Youi- liberty taken to sin 
 would soon infer a bondage upon your spirit Godward, unless 
 conscience be wholly asleep and you have learned a stupid, 
 insolent confidence to affront God ; which surely would sig- 
 1 Prov. \-iii. 17. - 1 Jolui iv. 19. ^ Pg. H. 12.
 
 246 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 nify little to your delight in him. " Thou shalt put away 
 iniquity far from thy tabernacles; .... then shalt thou 
 have thy delight in the Almighty, and shalt lift up thy face 
 vmto God."^ The conscience of unpurged iniquity will not 
 let you lift up your face, or appear in that glorious presence. 
 
 7. Cherish the great grace of humility, and be ever mean 
 and low in your own eyes. That temper carries in it even a 
 natural disposition to delight in God. Plow sweet compla- 
 cency will such a soul take in him ! His light and glory 
 shine with great lustre in the eyes of such a one, while there 
 is not a nearer imagined lustre to vie therewith. Stars are 
 seen at noon, by them that descend low into a deep pit. 
 They will admire God but little that admire themselves 
 much, and take little pleasure in him who are too much 
 pleased with themselves. And how sweet a relish have his 
 love and grace to an humble, lowly sotd, that esteems itself 
 less than the least of his mercies ! With what ravishing 
 delight will Divine mercy be entertained, when it is so 
 unexpectedly vouchsafed ; when this shall be the sense of the 
 soul now caught into the embraces of God's love, — * What ! 
 I, vile creature, impure worm ! — what ! beloved of God ? ' 
 Expectation, groimded especially upon an opinion of merit, 
 would unspeakably lessen a favour if it were afforded ; as also 
 expected evils seem the less when they come. But the lowly 
 soul, that apprehends desert of nothing but hell, is surprised 
 and overcome with wonder and delight, when the great God 
 expresses kindness towards it. Besides that, he more freely 
 communicates himself to such : "To this man will I look, 
 even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit,"^ etc. And 
 he looks to such with a design of habitation ; — heaven and 
 earth are not to him so pleasant a dwelling. Down, then, 
 into the dust : there you are in the fittest place and posture 
 for delightful converse with God. 
 
 8. Eeckon much upon an eternal abode in that presence 
 lohere is "fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore." Enjoy, by 
 
 1 Job xxii. 23, 26. 2 isa. Ixvi. 2.
 
 PART 11.] OF DELIGHTIXG IN GOD. 247 
 
 a serious, believing foresight, the delights of heaven ; labour 
 to " rejoice in hojse of the glory of God." Look beyond this 
 your present state. Confine not your eye and delight to 
 what is now to be enjoyed, but think of what shall be. Set 
 before your eyes the glorious prospect of the blessed God 
 communicating himself to that vast assembly of angels, and 
 " the sj)irits of just men made perfect," in clearest discoveries 
 of his glor}^ and richest effusions of his goodness. The best 
 appearance of things in this world makes but a dull scene in 
 comparison of this. If you look towards God, according to 
 what now appears of his glory in the frame of the universe 
 and the course of his administrations and government over 
 his creatures, he hath not, it is true, left himself without 
 witness. And you may behold much that would be to you 
 the matter of delightful admiration, if your eye be clear, and 
 can pierce through clouds and darkness and a manifold veil. 
 He hath made this world, and is everywhere in it ; but it 
 knows him not. His " light shines in darkness that doth not 
 comprehend it." Beams of his glory do everywhere break 
 forth, through every creature, providence, law and ordinance 
 of his. But much of his glory that shines in the creation is 
 hid by a train of second causes, through which few look to 
 the first. His laws men judge of according to their interests 
 and inclinations ; while the holy, glorious Majesty that enacted 
 them is out of sight. His work in the world is carried on in 
 a mystery. His interest lives, but is depressed. They who 
 are most devoted to him are supported indeed by his invisible 
 hand ; but are, in the meantime, low, for the most part, and 
 afSicted. If j^ou now limit and confine jour apprehensions 
 of him to his present appearances, the matter of your delight 
 is real, but much diminished. But conceive of him — as your 
 faith can behold him at a distance — in that posture wherein, 
 having settled the eternal state of things, he will finally show 
 himself. Conceive him as ha^dng now gathered home all 
 that have been recovered to him out of the apostacy, and 
 joined them to those numberless legions of innocent and piire 
 spirits about his throne that never ofiended. Conceive hun
 
 248 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 as dispensing rewards, pouring out blessings upon the loyal 
 heads and hearts of them that expressed fidelity and duty to 
 him in the time and state of trial and temptation ; letting 
 his glory shine o\it with bright and direct beams to so many 
 beholding and admiring eyes ; giving forth the full and 
 satisfying communications of his love, and making rivers of 
 pleasure flow perpetually, to the replenishing the vast, en- 
 larged capacities of so innumerable a multitude of grateful, 
 adoring spirits, by whom it is now sensibly to be perceived 
 how his " fulness filleth all in all." Take this view of him ; 
 and let your faith and hope thus " enter into that which is 
 within the veil." And remember there is only a little time 
 between you and that blessed state, — that then you are to 
 " enter into the joy of your Lord ; " so that the very element 
 and region wherein you are to live for ever shall be nothing 
 else but delight and joy. In this way of believing foresight, 
 and by this lawful and allowed prepossession of future bless- 
 edness, much surely would be added to your present delight 
 in God. Should not the thoughts of him be pleasant to you, 
 from whom you are expecting so great things? If your 
 delight in him be any at all upon what you have already 
 foimd and experienced of his goodness, it should be abun- 
 dantly the more upon what you are by his word encouraged 
 to look for. 
 
 And having thus given some account in what wg-y delight 
 in God is to be exercised and improved, it were a charitable 
 hope that there would be little need to propound arguments 
 to persuade unto it. But it were a hope not grounded upon 
 common experience, which too plainly tells us, that though 
 such directions as these are plain and obvious, not unknown 
 to Christians, but only less considered, — whence it was not 
 needless here to recommend them, — yet delight in God 
 obtains little place in the practice of the most. There wiU 
 therefore too probably be stiU much need of excitation. 
 
 And yet, because it is not multitude of words that is 
 likely to do the business, but the weight of things, urged on 
 by a more powerful hand than that of man ; and that much
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 249 
 
 may be collected to tliis purpose from what hath been said of 
 the sinfulness of the omission ; I shall, mth great brevity, 
 offer these things only to be considered : — 
 
 Is it not a merciful vouchsafement, that the holy God 
 allows you to place youi- delight on him and invites you to 
 it ? How much grace and love breathes in these words, 
 " Delight thyself also in the Lord ! " " Trust " in him was 
 recommended before, and now this being added also, how 
 plain is it that your ease and rest is the thing designed ! Is 
 it fit to receive so much kindness with neglect ? Again, he 
 delights in you ; — I speak to such of whom this may be sup- 
 posed. And it is indefinitely said, his " delights were with 
 the sons of men."^ Think what He is, and what you are ; 
 and at once both wonder and jaeld. And what else have you 
 to delight in ? what thing will you name that shall supply 
 the place of God, or be to you in the stead of him ? More- 
 over, who should dehght in him but j'^ou, — his friends, his 
 sons, those of his own house ? Think what life and vigour it 
 will infuse into you, and that " the joy of the Lord will be 
 your strength."" How pleasantly will you hold on your 
 course, and discharge all the other duties of this your present 
 state ! You must serve him. Dare you think of throwing 
 off his yoke ? How desirable is it, then, to take delight in 
 him whom I must serve ; which only makes that service 
 acceptable to him and easy to myself! Fui'ther, this is a 
 pleasure none can rob you of, a joy that cannot be taken 
 from you. Other objects of your delight are vanishing daily. 
 Neither men nor devils can ever hinder your delighting in 
 God, if your hearts be so inclined. And were you never 
 brought to take pleasure in any person or thing to which 
 you had a former aversion ? One that had wronged you 
 might yet possibly win you by after-kindness. Give a reason 
 why you should be more difiicult towards the blessed God, 
 that never wronged you, and whose way towards you hath 
 constantly imported so much good-will ! 
 
 And consider that your condition on earth is such as ex- 
 1 Prov. %-iii. 31. - Neb. viii. 10. 
 
 m3
 
 250 A TREATISE [part li. 
 
 poses yoii to many sufferings and hardships ; which, by your 
 not delighting in him, you can never be sure to avoid, — for 
 they are things common to men ; but which, by your de- 
 lighting in him, you ma}^ be easily able to endure. Besides 
 all this, seriously consider that you must die. You can make 
 no shift to avoid that. How easily tolerable and pleasant will 
 it be to think, then, of going to him with whom you have 
 lived in a delightfid communion before ! And how dreadful 
 to appear before him, to whom your own heart shall accuse 
 you to have been, against all his importunities and allure- 
 ments, a disaffected stranger ! 
 
 To these I add the consideration in the other part of 
 the verse : " And he shall give thee the desires of thine 
 heart." By " desire," it is plain we are to understand the 
 thing desired ; which is usual. By the thing desired, we 
 must not be so unreasonable as to think is meant anything, 
 whatsoever it be, that, even with the greatest extravagancy, 
 we may set our hearts upon, — as worldly possessions, riches, 
 honours, etc. : for it were most unbecoming that delight in 
 God should be so mercenary or be propounded as the price of 
 so mean things : yea, and if the matter were so to be under- 
 stood, delight in God were a means to the attaining of these 
 things as the end ; which were to make the blessed God an 
 inferior good to these. Nor can we suppose that one who 
 delights in God should ever esteem any reward or recompense 
 of another kind, greater than what he finds in this very delight 
 itself. And besides, we are very prone to desire things that 
 (as the case may be) would, prove very hurtful to us. If God 
 should gratify us with everything we fancy, he should many 
 times please us to our ruin. And do we believe that when he 
 hath won a person to place his delight and take pleasure in 
 himself, he will requite him with a mischief ? 
 
 Since, then, we may not understand him to mean that 
 whatsoever we desire, if we delight in him, we shall have, we 
 are to inquire further. And it is plain the things that can 
 be supposed to be desired by such persons as are here spoken 
 to, must be one of these two sorts : either things of a spiritual
 
 PART Ti.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 251 
 
 nature, that tend directly to the gratification and advantage 
 of the inward man ; or else external good things, that make 
 for the support and comfort of this present life. We will 
 suppose it to be the one or the other of these ; and shall show 
 that whichsoever sort it be that is desired, delighting in God 
 doth naturally infer the satisfaction, some way or other, of 
 such desires. 
 
 1. Supposing they be spiritual good things that are desired, 
 delight in God is most directly the satisfaction itself of such 
 desire. Whatsoever purely spiritual good we can desire is either 
 God himself, or somewhat in order to him. If it be God him- 
 self we desire, so far as we delight in him we enjoy him, and 
 have what we would have ; and can only enjoy him more fuUj^ 
 by more entire and composed rest and delight in him. If it be 
 somewhat in order to him, he is still supremely and ultimately 
 desired in that very desire ; so that in delighting in him we 
 have our end, and that upon which this desire doth lastly ter- 
 minate. And now, should not this be a great inducement to 
 us to delight in God, that hereby our desires, the motions of 
 our working hearts directed towards him, do immediately find 
 in him a peaceful and pleasant rest, and turn into a satisfying 
 fruition ? 
 
 2. Supposing the things we desire be those of an inferior 
 kind, delight in God doth not a little to the satisfying of them 
 also. It doth not, as was said, entitle us to the things them- 
 selves we desu'c, whatever they be or how unsuitable soever 
 to us ; but, — 
 
 i. It moderates these desires, makes them sober, prudent, 
 and rational, and capable of being satisfied with what is fit for 
 us. He that is much habituated to delight in God, is not apt 
 to foolish, extravagant desires. This is the sense of such a 
 one, ' Not my will, Lord, but thine be done.' He may 
 desire the same thing that others do, yet not with the same 
 peremptory and precipitant desire, but with a desire tempered 
 with submission and with a reserved deference of the matter 
 to the Divine pleasure : ' This thing, Lord, I desire, if thou see 
 good.' So that the general object of such a one's desire is
 
 252 A TREATISE [part il. 
 
 only that whicli in the Divine estimate is fit and good for 
 him ; and though he desire this or that particular thing, yet 
 not as it is this thing, but as supposing it possible this thing- 
 may be judged iit for him by the supreme wisdom, whereto 
 he hath referred the matter. But if it shall be judged other- 
 wise, this thing falls without the compass of the general 
 object of his desire, and in just construction he desires it 
 not ; for he desires it not otherwise than on that condition, 
 that God sees it meet for him, and not longer than till he find 
 He does not : in which case the sobriety and submissiveness 
 of his former desire appears in his cheerful, patient want of 
 the thing which he finds God hath thovight fit to deny him. 
 So that even then his desire is satisfied ; that is, it doth not, 
 as often it is with a carnal heart, turn, being crossed, into 
 rage and madness, but into a complacential peace and rest 
 in the Divine will. He is satisfied in what God had thought 
 fit to do. Yea, the very thing is done which he would have 
 done ; God hath given him his heart's desire. For let the 
 question be put to such a person. Do you desire such a thing, 
 though God judge it will be hurtful to you or unfit for you ? 
 and no doubt he will, not in faint words that have no sense 
 under them — as almost any other man would — but from his 
 very heart and soid, say, No. And if he deliberate the 
 matter of his own accord, or by any one's inquiry be occa- 
 sioned to do so, this will be found the sense of his heart, — 
 though his desire hath inclined to this or that thing in 
 particidar, — and this would be his prayer in such a case, 
 ' Lord, if thy wisdom, which is infinitely more than mine, see 
 this thing not fit, cross me, deny me in this desire of mine.' 
 And this general desire at least, which is the measure of the 
 particular one, is sm-e to be accomplished to one that hath 
 God for his delight ; for the promise is express and cannot 
 fail, " All things shall work together for good to them that 
 love God."i 
 
 And this love to God, or delight in him, as it entitles such 
 to that his care and concern for them which is expressed 
 
 1 Rom. viii. 28.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 253 
 
 in this promise, so it doth in its own nature dispose their hearts 
 to an acquiescence and satisfiedness therein ; for love to God, 
 where it is true, is supreme, and prevails over all other love 
 to this or that particular good. Whence it cannot be but, if 
 this love be in act, — as the text must be understood to call 
 unto actual and exercised delight in God, — it must subdue 
 and keep the heart so far subject to the Divine good pleasure, 
 as that its desire and addictedness to this particular, lesser 
 good (concerning which there may also be a just and rational 
 doubt whether it will be now a good to him, yea or no) shall 
 never be a matter of controversy and quarrel with Him who 
 is, unquestionably, the supreme and universal Good. How 
 will that one thought overcome, if such a one shall but ap- 
 prehend God saying to him, ' Dost thou love me above all 
 things, and wilt yet contend ^vith me for such a trifle ? ' 
 
 And we may by the way note, that upon this ground of the 
 dubious mutahility of external good things, — which by circum- 
 stances may become evil to this or that person, — as they are 
 not here, so nor can they be anywhere, the matter of a general, 
 absolute promise, to be claimed indefinitely by any one's 
 faith. The natui-e of the thing refuses it ; for suppose we 
 that what may, in this or that case, become evil or prejudicial 
 to this or that person, doth now actually become so, and is 
 the matter of an absolute promise now claimable by such a 
 person, what would follow ? That an evil is now the actual 
 matter of a promise ! than which, what can be said or sup- 
 posed more absurd, when nothing can further or otherwise be 
 the matter of a promise than as it is good ? Wherefore that 
 promise would, in the supposed case, degenerate, — as the 
 matter of it is by the present circumstances varied, — and 
 turn into a threatening. Wherefore, when that condition or 
 proviso is not expressly added to a promise concerning a 
 temporal good, the very natui-e of the thing implies and re- 
 quires it to be understood; for it is not, — otherwise than 
 as qualified by that condition, — any way a promise. Now, he 
 that is in the present exercise of delight in God hath his 
 heart so set upon God and aKenated from earthly things, as
 
 254 A TREATISE [part II. 
 
 that the present temper of it bears proportion to the natural 
 tenor of such promises ; and is not, otherwise than by the 
 cessation of this delight, liable to the torture of unsatisfied 
 desire in reference to these lower things : " Although the fig- 
 tree shall not blossom, . . . yet I will rejoice in the Lord," ^ 
 etc. And as delight in God doth thus reduce and moderate 
 desires in reference to any inferior good, so that, if it be 
 withheld, they admit a satisfaction without it and the want of 
 it is easily tolerable ; so, — 
 
 ii. If it be granted, delight in God adds a satisfying sweet- 
 ness to the enjojnnent. A lover of God hath another taste and 
 relish, even of earthly good things, than an earthly-minded 
 man can have. He hath that sweet savour of the love of 
 God upon his spirit, that imparts a sweetness to all the enjoy- 
 ments of this world, beyond what such things in their own 
 nature have with them. This makes "the righteous man's 
 little, better than the riches of many wicked."^ 
 
 Upon the whole, therefore, this is, if duly weighed, a 
 mighty and most persuasive argument to delight in God ; for 
 it imports thus much, which I add for a close to this dis- 
 course : If you place your delight here, you are most certainly 
 delivered from the vexation and torment of unsatisfied desire. 
 The motions of your souls are sure to end in a pleasant rest. 
 Your lesser desires will be swallowed up in greater, and all in 
 the Divine fulness ; so that you will now say, " Whom have I 
 in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I 
 desire beside thee."^ If you take no delight in God, your 
 own souls will be a present hell to you. And it may be it is 
 not enough considered how much the future hell stands also 
 in unsatisfied desire ; which desire, — all suitable objects being 
 for ever cut ofi" from it, — turns wholly to despair, rage, 
 and torture; and that ravenous appetite, which would be 
 preying upon external objects that now fail, turns inward, 
 and, as an insatiable vulture, gnaws everlastingly the 
 wretched soul itseK. 
 
 And the beginnings of this hell you will now have within 
 1 Hab. iii. 17, 18. ^ pg, xxxvii. 16. » Ps. ixxiii. 25.
 
 PART II.] OF DELIGHTING IN GOD. 255 
 
 you, while you refuse to delight in God. The sapless, earthly 
 vanities upon which your hearts are set, give you some 
 present content, which allays your misery for a little while 
 and renders it less sensible to you ; but they have nothing 
 in them to answer the vast desires of a reasonable, immortal 
 spirit : whereby you certainly doom yoiu'selves to perpetual 
 distress ; for in these false, vanishing shadows of goodness 
 you cannot have satisfaction, and in the blessed God you 
 ■will not.
 
 THE 
 
 EEDEEMER'S TEAES WEPT OVEE LOST 
 SOULS; 
 
 A TREATISE OX LUKE XIX. 41, 42. 
 
 AX APPEXDIX, 
 
 WHEREIN SOMEWHAT IS OCCASIONALLY DISCOURSED, CONCERNING THE 
 
 BLASPHEMY AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST, AND HOW GOD IS SAID 
 
 TO WILL THE SALVATION OF THEM THAT PERISH.
 
 THE PEEFACE. 
 
 When spiritual judgments do more eminently befall a people, great 
 outward calamities do often ensue. We know it was so in the 
 instance which the text here insisted on refers to. But it is not 
 always so ; the connection between these two sorts of judgments is 
 not absolutely certain and necessary ; yea, and is more frequent 
 with the contraries of each. For this reason, therefore, and because 
 judgments of the former kind are so inexpressibly greater and more 
 tremendous, this discourse insists only upon them, aboxit which 
 serious mom'tious both have a clearer ground and are of greater 
 importance ; and wholly waives the latter. 
 
 Too many are apt first to fancy similitudes between the state of 
 thiucs Avith one people and another, and then to draw inferences ; 
 being perhaps imposed upon by a strong imagination in both, which 
 yet must pass with them for a spirit of prophecy ; and perhaps 
 they take it not well if it do not so with others too. It were 
 indeed the work of another prophet certainly to accommodate and 
 make application of what was spoken by a former, to a distinct 
 time and people. It is enough for us to learn, from such sayings 
 as this of our Saviour, those rules' of life and practice, such instiiic- 
 tions and cautions, as are common to all times, without arrogating 
 to ourselves his prerogative of foretelling events that shall happen 
 in this or that. The affectation of venturing iipon futurity and of 
 foreboding direful things to kingdoms and nations, may, besides its 
 being without sufficient ground, proceed from some or other very 
 bad principle : dislike of the present methods of Providence ; 
 weariness and impatiency of our present condition ; too great 
 proneness to wish what we take upon oui'selves to predict, the
 
 260 THE PREFACE. 
 
 prediction importing more heat of anger than certainty of foresight ; 
 a wrathful spirit, that would presently fetch down " fii-e from 
 heaven " upon such as favour not our inclinations and desires, so 
 that, as the poet speaks, whole cities should be overturned at our 
 request, if the heavenly powers wou.ld be so easy as to comply with 
 such furious imprecations ; — a temper that ill agrees with humanity 
 itself, not to care at what rate of common calamity and misery a 
 purchase be made of our own immunity from sufferings ; nay, to be 
 willing to run the most desperate hazard in the case, and even covet 
 a general ruin to others, upon a mere apprehended possibility that 
 our case may be mended by it, when it may be more probable to 
 become much worse. But O how disagreeable is it to the spirit of 
 our merciftd Lord and Saviour, whose name we bear, upon any 
 terms to delight in human miseries ! The greatest honour men of 
 that complexion are capable of doing the Christian name, were to 
 disclaim it. Can such angry heats have place in Chi'istian bi-easts, 
 as shall render them the well-pleased spectators, yea, authors, of one 
 another's calamities and ruin 1 Can the tears that issued from 
 these compassionate, blessed eyes, upon the foresight of Jerusalem's 
 woful catastrophe, do nothing towards the quenching of these 
 flames 1 
 
 But I add, that the too intent fixing of our thoughts upon any 
 supposable events in this world argues at least a narrow, carnal 
 mind, that draws and gathers all things into time, as despairing of 
 eternity ; and reckons no better state of things considerable, that is 
 not to be brought about under their own present view in this 
 world ; as if it were uncertain or insignificant that thei'e shall be 
 unexceptionable, eternal order and rectitude in another. 
 
 It is again as groundless, and may argue as ill a mind, to pro- 
 phesy smooth and jjleasant things iu a time of abounding wicked- 
 ness. Tlie safer, middle course is, without God's express warrant, 
 not to prophesy at all, but, as we have opportunity, to warn and 
 instruct men with " all meekness and long-sufiering ;" for which 
 the Lord's ordinary messengers can never want his warrant : and, 
 after our blessed Saviour's most imi table example, to scatter our 
 tears over the impenitent, even upon the too probable apprehension 
 of the temporal judgments which hang over their heads, but most 
 of all upon the account of their liableness to the more dreadful ones 
 of the other state ; which in the following discourse I hope it is
 
 THE TREFACE, 261 
 
 made competently evident this lamentation of our Sav-iour bath, 
 ultimate reference unto. For the other, though we know them 
 to be due and most higlily deserved, yet concerning the actual 
 infliction of them, even upon obstinate and persevering sinners, we 
 cannot pronounce. We have no settled constitution or rale by 
 which we can conclude it, any more than that outward felicity or 
 prosperity shall be the constant portion of good men in this world. 
 The great God hath reserved to himself a latitude of acting more 
 ai-bitrarily, both as to threatenings and promises of tliis nature. If 
 the accomplishment of either could be certainly expected, it should 
 be of the promises rather ; because as to promised rewards God is 
 pleased to make himself debtor, and a right accrues to them to 
 whom the promise is made, if either the promise be absolute or 
 made with any certain condition that is actually performed. But 
 God is always the creditor poence ; "the right to punish" remains 
 wholly in himself, the exacting whereof he may therefore suspend, 
 without any appearance of wrong, as seemeth good unto him. If, 
 therefore, he may withhold temporal blessings from good and pious 
 men, to which they have a remote and fundamental right, as having 
 reserved to himself the judgment of the fit lime and season of 
 bestowing them ; much more doth it belong to his wisdom to fix 
 the bounds of his patience and long-sufifering, and determine the 
 season of animadvei-ting upon more open and insolent offenders by 
 temporal pvniishments, according as shall make most for the ends 
 of his government and finally prove more advantageous to the 
 dignity and glory of it. The practice, therefore, of our Sa\aour, 
 in speaking so positively concerning the approaching fall and niin 
 of Jerusalem, is no pattern unto us. He spake not only with the 
 knowledge of a prophet, but Avith the authority of a judge ; and 
 his words may be considered both as a prediction and a vsentence. 
 We can pretend to speak in neither capacity touching things of 
 this nature. 
 
 But for the everlasting punishments in another world, that belong 
 to unreconciled sinnei-s who refuse " to know the things of their 
 peace," the gospel-constitution hii.th made the connection firm and 
 unalterable between their continuing, unrepented wickedness, and 
 those punishments. When, therefore, we behold the impudent, 
 provoking sins of the age wherein we live against the natural, 
 eternal law of our Creator, persisted in with all the marks of
 
 262 "THE PREFACE. 
 
 infidelity and obduration against the trutli and grace tliat so 
 gloriously shine forth in the gospel of our Redeemer, we may, after 
 him, speak positively : " He that believeth not shall be damned " 
 
 " is condemned already " — " shall not see life, but the wrath of 
 
 God abideth on him." " If ye believe not that I am He, ye shall 
 die in your sins." " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." 
 And here, how doth it become ns too, in conformity to his great 
 example, to speak compassionately, and as those that in some 
 measure " know the terror of the Lord ! " O how doleful is the 
 case when we consider the inconsistent notions of many with, not 
 this or that particular doctrine or article of the Christian faith, 
 out with the whole sum of Christianity ; the atheism of some, the 
 avowed mere theism of others, — the former sort far outdoing the 
 Jewish infidelity ; which people, besides the rational means of 
 demonstrating a Deity common to them with the rest of mankind, 
 could, upon the account of many things peculiar to themselves, be 
 in no sus})ense concerning this matter. How great was their 
 reverence of the books of the Old Testament, especially those of 
 Moses ; their knowledge most certain of plain and most convincing 
 matters of fact ! how long the government of their nation had 
 been an immediate theocracy ! what evident tokens of the Divine 
 presence had been among them from age to age ! in how wonderful 
 a manner they were brought out of Egypt through the Red Sea, 
 and conducted all along through the wilderness ! how glorious an 
 appearance and manifestation of himself God afforded to them at 
 the giving of the law upon Mount Sinai ! and by how apparent 
 exertions of the Divine power the former inhabitants were expelled 
 and they settled in the promised land ! Upon all this, they could 
 be in no more doubt concerning the existence of a Deity, than of 
 the sun in the firmament. Whereas we are put to prove, in a 
 Christian nation, that this world and its continual successive inha- 
 bitants have a wise, intelligent Maker and Lord, and that all 
 things came not into the state wherein they are, by, — no man can 
 imagine what, — either fatal necessity or casualty. 
 
 But both sorts agree in — what I wou.ld principally remark — 
 the disbelief of Christ being the Messiah. And so, with both, the 
 whole business of Christianity must be a fable and a cheat. And 
 thus it is determined, not by men that have made it their business 
 to consider and examine the matter, — for the jjlain evidence of
 
 THE PREFACE. 263 
 
 tilings cannot but even obtrude a conviction upon any diligent 
 inquii'er, — but by such as have only resolved not to consider ; who 
 have beforehand settled their pui"pose, never to be awed by the 
 apprehension of an invisible Ruler into any course of life that 
 shall bear hard upou sensual inclination, have already chosen their 
 master, enslaved themselves to brutal appetite, and are so 
 habituated to that mean servility, made it so connatural, so deeply 
 inward to themselves, so much their very life, as that, through 
 the pre-appreh ended pain and uneasiness of a violent rupture in 
 tearing themselves from themselves, it is become their interest not 
 to admit any serious thought. Any such thought they are con- 
 cerned (they reckon) to fence against, as against the point of a 
 sword ; — it 'strikes at their only life ; the brute must die, that, by 
 a happy Traktyyeveaia, they may be " again born" men. That is the 
 design of Christianity, to restore men to themselves again ; and 
 because it hath this tendency, it is therefore not to be endured. 
 And all the little residue of human wit which is yet left them 
 (which, because the sensual nature is predominant, is pressed into 
 a subserviency to the interest and defence of a bratal life) only 
 sei'ves them to turn everything of serious religion into ridicule ; and 
 being themselves resolved never to be reasoned into any seriousness, 
 they have the confidence to make the trial whether all other men 
 can be jested out of it. 
 
 If this were not the case, — if such persons could allow them- 
 selves to think, and debate the matter, — how certain would the 
 victory, how glorious would the triumph be, of the Christian 
 religion, over all the little cavils they are wont to allege against it ! 
 Let then- o^v^l consciences testify in the case, whether ever they 
 have applied themselves to any solemn disquisition concerning this 
 important afiair, but only contented themselves with being able, 
 amidst ti-ansient discourse, to cast out now and then some oblique 
 glance against somewhat or other that was appendant or more 
 remotely belonging to the Christian profession, — in so much haste 
 as not to stay for an answer : and because they may have surprised 
 sometimes one or other not so ready at a quick repartee, or who 
 reckoned the matter to require solemn and somewhat larger dis- 
 coiu'se, which they have not had the patience to hear, whether 
 they have not gone away puifed and swollen wdth the conceit that 
 they have whiffled Christianity away quite off the stage with their
 
 264 THE PREFACE. 
 
 profane breatli ; as if its firm and solid strength, wherein it stands 
 stable as a rock of adamant, depended upon this or that sudden, 
 occasional, momentaiy effort on the behalf of it. But if such have 
 a mind to try whether anything can be strongly said in defence of 
 that sacred profession, let them considerately peruse what hath 
 been written by divers to that purpose. And, not to engage them 
 in any very tedious, longsome task, if they like not to travel 
 through the somewhat abstruser work of the most learned Hugo 
 Grotius, " De Veritate Christianfe Religionis," or the more volu- 
 minous Huetius's " Demonstratio Evangelica," or divers others that 
 might be named, let them but patiently and leisurely read over 
 that later very plain and clear, but nervous and solid, discourse of 
 Dr. Parker upon this subject, and judge then whether the Christian 
 religion want evidence ; or whether nothing can be alleged why we 
 of this age, so long after Christ's appearance upon the stage of the 
 world, are to reckon ourselves obliged to profess Christianity and 
 observe the rules of that holy profession. 
 
 And really if, upon iitmost search, it shall be found to have 
 firm truth at the bottom, it makes itself so necessary, (which 
 must be acknowledged part of that truth,) that any one that hath 
 wit enough to be the author of a jest might understand it to be a 
 thing not to be jested with. It trifles with no man ; and, where 
 it is once sufiiciently propounded, leaves it no longer indifierent 
 whether we will be of it or no. Supposing it true, it is strange if 
 we can pretend it not to be sufficiently propounded to us ; or that 
 we are destitute of sufficient means to come by the knowledge of 
 that truth ! Was this I'eligion instituted only for one nation or 
 age 1 Did the Son of God descend from heaven, put on flesh, and 
 die ; had we an incarnate Deity conversant among men on earth 
 and made a sacrifice for the sins of men, — and hath he left the 
 world at liberty, whether, upon any notice hereof, they should 
 inquire and concern themselves about him or no 1 Being incar- 
 nate, he could not, as such, be everywhere ; nor was it fit he 
 should be long here, or needful (and therefore not fit) he should die 
 often. It was condescension enough that lie vouchsafed once to 
 appear in so mean and self-abasing a form and offered himself 
 to "put away sin by the sacrifice of himself" And whereas he 
 hath himself founded a dominion over us in his own blood, did die, 
 and revive, and rise again, that he might be " Lord of the living
 
 THE PREFACE. 265 
 
 and of the dead ;" and the eternal Father hath liereupon "highly 
 exalted him, given him a name above every name, that at his name 
 every knee shonld bow, and that all should confess that he is the 
 Loi'd, to the praise and glory of God," — and hath required that all 
 should " honour the Son" as Himself is to be honoured, hath given 
 him " power over all flesh, and made him head of all things to the 
 church • " was it evei- intended men should generally remain exempt 
 from obligation to observe, believe, and obey him ? Was it his own 
 intention to waive or not insist upon, his own most sacred and so 
 deai-ly-acquired rights, — to quit his claim to the greatest part of 
 mankind 1 Why did he then issue out his commission, as" soon as 
 he was risen from the dead, to teach all nations, to proselyte the 
 world to himself, to baptize them into his name, with that of the 
 Father and the Holy Ghost 1 O the great and venei'able names 
 that are named upon professing Christians ! Could it be his in- 
 tention to leave it lawful to men to choose this, or any, or no re- 
 ligion, as their humours or fancies or lusts should prompt them 'I to 
 disregai'd and deride his holy doctrines, — violate and trample upon 
 his just and equal laws, — reject and contemn his offered favours 
 and mercy, — despise and profane his sacred institutions 1 When 
 he actually makes his demand and lays his claim, what amazing 
 guilt, how swift destruction, must they incur, that dare adventure 
 to deny the Lord that bought tliem ! And they that shall do it 
 among a Christianized people, upon the pretended insufficiency of 
 the revelation they have of him, do but heighten the affront and 
 increase the provocation. It is to charge the whole Christian 
 institution with foolery, as pretending to oblige men, when they 
 cannot know to what, how, or upon what ground, they should be 
 obliged ; to pronounce the means and methods inept and vain 
 which he hath thought sufficient, and only fit, for tlie propagating 
 and continuing Christianity in the world ; to render the rational 
 reception of it, from age to age, impossible in his appointed way, 
 or imless men should be taught by angels or voices from heaven, or 
 that miracles should be so very frequent and common as thereby 
 also to become useless to their end : and so would be to make the 
 whole frame of Christian religion an idle impertinency, and, in 
 reference to its avowed design, a self-repugnant thing ; and con- 
 sequently were to impute folly to Him who is the " Wisdom of 
 God." 
 
 VOL. II. N
 
 266 THE PREFACE. 
 
 And how are other things known, of common concernment and 
 whereof an inunediate knowledge is as little possible 1 Can a man 
 satisfy himself that he hath a title to an estate conveyed down to 
 him by very ancient writings, the witnesses whereof are long 
 since dead and gone 1 or that he is obliged by laws made many an 
 age ago 1 Or could any records be preserved with more care and 
 concern than those wherein our religion lies, or be more secure 
 from designed or material depravation 1 But this is no place to 
 reason these things. Enough is said by others, referred to before. 
 I only further say, if any that have the use of their understand- 
 ings, living in a Christian nation, think to justify their infidelity 
 and disobedience to the Son of God by pretending they had no 
 sufficient means to know him to be so, tlie excuse will avail them 
 alike as that did him who insolently said, " Who is the Lord, that 
 I should obey his voice 1 I know not the Lord, neither will I," 
 etc. For have not we as good means to know who Christ is as the 
 Egyptians of that time had to know who was the God of Israel, 
 though afterwards he was more " known by the judgments which 
 he executed 1 " Although the knowledge of the only true God be 
 natural, and the obligation thereto common to men, yet the indis- 
 position to vise their understanding this way is so great and 
 general, and the express revelation that Jesus Christ was the Son 
 of God requires so much less labour to understand it than there is 
 in arguing out the existence and attributes of God by an inhabile 
 sluggish mind, that the difference cannot be great, if any, on that 
 side. This latter only needs the inquiry, whence the revelation 
 comes ; which as it is not difiicult in itself, so this occasion, namely, 
 of its being proposed, doth invite and urge to it : whereas 
 the generality of the Pagan world have little of external induce- 
 ment leading them into inquiries concerning the true God. There- 
 fore, all circumstances considered, I see not how they that live 
 under the gospel can be thought to have less advantage and obliga- 
 tion to own Jesus of Nazareth to be the Son of God, than the rest 
 of the world to own the only living and true God ; or that the 
 former should be less liable to the revelation of the wrath of God 
 from heaven for holding supernatural truth in unrighteousness, than 
 the other for doing so injurious violence to that which is merely 
 natural. Unto what severities, then, of the Divine wrath and jus- 
 tice, even of the highest kind, do multitudes lie open in our days !
 
 THE PREFACE. 267 
 
 For besides tliose (mucli fewer) mental or notioual iufidels, that 
 believe not the principles of the Christian religion against the 
 clearest evidence, how vastly greater is the number of them that 
 are so in heart and practice against their professed belief ; that 
 live in utter estrangement from God, as without him in the world, 
 or in open enmity against him, and contrai'iety to the known rules 
 of the religion they profess ! how many that understand nothing of 
 its principal and plainest doctrines ! As if nothing were reqiiisite 
 to distinguish the Christian from the Pagan world more than an 
 empty name : or as if the Redeemer of sinners had died upon the 
 cross that men might more securely remain " alienated from the 
 life of God,"— not to reconcile and reduce them to him ; or that 
 they might with safety indulge appetite, mind earthly things, make 
 the world their god, gratify the flesh, and make provision to fulfil 
 the lusts of it, defy heaven, affront their Maker, live in malice, 
 envy, hatred to one another, — not to bless them, by turning them 
 from these impieties and iniquities ! As if it were so obscurely 
 hinted as that it could not be taken notice of, — " that the grace of 
 God, which bringeth salvation to all men, hath appeared, teaching 
 them to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and to live soberly, 
 righteously, and godly in this present world, so looking for the 
 blessed hope ;" and that " Christ gave himself for us, to redeem us 
 from all iniquity, and to purify us to himself a peculiar people, 
 zealous of good works !" How many, again, are Christians, they 
 know not why ; upon the same terms that others are Moham- 
 medans, — because it is the religion of their country, — by fate or by 
 accident, not by their own choice and judgment ! The same incon- 
 sideration makes them be Christians that makes others be none. 
 
 And now, shall our Redeemer be left to weep alone over these 
 perishing souls 1 Have we no teai's to spend upon tliis doleful 
 subject 1 "O that our heads were waters, and our eyes fountains!" 
 Is it nothing to us, that multitudes are sinking, going down into 
 perdition, under the name of Christian, under the seal of baptism, 
 from under the means of life and salvation 1 — perishing, — and we 
 can do nothing to prevent it ! We know they must perish that 
 do not repent and turn to God, and love him above all, even 
 with all their hearts and souls, and mind and might ; that do 
 not believe in his Son and pay liim homage as their rightful Lord, 
 sincerely subjecting themselves to his laws and government. But 
 
 N 2
 
 268 THE PREFACE. 
 
 this they will not understand oi' not consider. Our endeavours to 
 bring tliem to it are ineffectual, — it is but faint breath we utter. 
 Our words drop and die between us and them ! We speak to them 
 in the name of the eternal God that made them, of the great Jesus 
 who bought them with his blood, and they regard it not. The 
 Spirit of the Lord is in a great degree departed from among us, 
 and we take it not to heart ! We are sensible of lesser grievances ; 
 — are grieved that men will not be more entirely proselyted to our 
 several parties and persuasions rather than that they are so disin- 
 clined to become proselytes to real Christianity ; and seem more 
 deeply concerned to have Christian religion so or so modified than 
 whether there shall be any such thing, or whether men be saved 
 by it or lost ! 
 
 This sad case, that so many wei-e likely to be lost xmder the first 
 sound of the gospel, and the most exemplary temper of our blessed 
 Lord in reference to it, are represented in the following treatise ; 
 with design to excite their care for their own souls who need to be 
 warned, and the compassions of others for them who are so little apt 
 to take warning. The good Lord grant it may be, some way or 
 other, useful for good ! 
 
 JOHN HOWE.
 
 THE 
 
 REDEEMER'S TEARS WEPT OYER LOST SOULS. 
 
 LUKE XIX. 41, 42. 
 
 " AND WHEN HE WAS COME NEAR, HE BEHELD THE CITY, AND WEPT OVER 
 IT, SAYING, IF THOU HADST KNOWN, EVEN THOU, AT LEAST IN THIS THY 
 DAY, THE THINGS WHICH BELONG UNTO THY PEACE ! BUT NOW THEY 
 ARE HID FROM THINE EYES." 
 
 We have here a compassionate lamentation in tlie midst of a 
 solemn triumph. Our Lord's approach unto Jerusalem at 
 this time and his entrance into it, as the foregoing history 
 shows, carried with them some face of regal and triumphal 
 pomp, but with such allays as discovered a mind most re- 
 mote from ostentation, and led by judgment, not vain-glory, 
 to transmit through a dark umbrage some ghmmerings only 
 of that excellent majesty which both his Sonship and his 
 Mediatorship entitled him unto ; a very modest and mean 
 specimen of his true, indubious royalty and kingly state ; 
 such as might rather intimate than plainly declare it, and 
 rather afford an after indnicfion to teachable minds, than 
 beget a present conviction and dread in the stupidly obstinate 
 and unteachable. And this effect we find it had, as is ob- 
 served by another evangelical historian, who, relating the 
 same matter, — how in his passage to Jerusalem the people 
 met him with branches of palm-trees and joyful hosannas, 
 he riding upon an ass's colt, as princes or judges, to signify 
 meekness as much as state, were wont to do,^ — tells us, " These 
 things understood not his disciples at the first : but when 
 
 ' Judges V. 10.
 
 270 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 Jesus was glorified, then remembered tliey tliat these things 
 were written of him, and that they had done these things 
 unto him."^ For great regard was had in this,^ — as in all the 
 acts of his life and ministry, to that last and conclusive part, 
 his dying a sacrifice upon the cross for the sins of men, — to 
 observe all along that mediocrity and steer that middle 
 course between obscurity and a terrifying, overpowering 
 glory, that this solemn oblation of himself might neither be 
 prevented nor be disregarded. Agreeably to this design and 
 the rest of his course, he doth, in this solemnity, rather dis- 
 cover his royal state and dignity b}'' a dark emblem, than by 
 an express representation, and shows in it more of meekness 
 and humility than of awful majesty and magnificence ; as 
 was formerly predicted, " Eejoice greatly, daughter of 
 Zion ; shout, daughter of Jerusalem : behold, thy King 
 Cometh unto thee : he is just, and having salvation ; lowly, 
 and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass." ^ 
 And how little he was taken with this piece of state 
 is sufficiently to be seen in this paragraph of the chapter. 
 His mind is much more taken up in the foresight of Jeru- 
 salem's sad case ; and therefore being come within view of it, — 
 which he might very commodiously have in the descent of 
 the higher opposite hill. Mount Olivet, — "he beheld the 
 city," it is said, " and wept over it." Two things concur to 
 make up the cause of this sorrow : — 1. The greatness of 
 the calamity ; Jerusalem, once so dear to God, was to suiFer, 
 not a scar, but a ruin : " The days shall come uj)on thee, that 
 thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass 
 thee round, and keep thee in on every side, and they shall 
 lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee ; 
 and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another ;" — 
 and, 2, The lost opportunity of preventing it : " If thou hadst 
 known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which 
 belong unto thy peace ! but now they are hid from thine 
 eyes;"^ and again, "Thou knewest not the time of thy 
 visitation." 
 
 1 John xii. IG. - Zech. ix. 9. ^ Luke xix. 42.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 271 
 
 First, The calamity was greater in his eyes than it can be 
 in ours. His large and comprehensive mind could take the com- 
 pass of this sad case. Our thoughts cannot reach far, yet we 
 can apprehend what may make this case very deplorable : we 
 can consider Jerusalem as the city of the great King, where 
 was the palace and throne of the Majesty of heaven, vouch- 
 safing to " dwell with men on earth." Here the Divine light 
 and glory had long shone ; here was the sacred Shechinah, the 
 dwelling-place of the Most High, the symbols of his presence, 
 the seat of worship, the mercy-seat, the place of receiving 
 addresses and of dispensing favours, — " The house of prayer 
 for all nations." To his own people this was the city of their 
 solemnities, " whither the tribes were wont to go up, the tribes 
 of the Lord, unto the testimony of Israel, to give thanks unto 
 the name of the Lord ; for there were set thrones of judgment, 
 the thrones of the house of David." ^ He that was so great a 
 lover of the souls of men, how grateful and dear to his heart had 
 the place been where, through the succession of many by-past 
 ages, the great God did use, though more obscurely, to unfold 
 his kind propensions towards sinners, to hold solemn treaties 
 with them, to make himself knowTi, to draw and allure souls 
 into his own holy worship and acquaintance ! And now that 
 the dismal prospect presents itself of desolation and ruin, 
 ready to overwhelm all this glory and lay waste the dwellings 
 of Divine love, his sorrow must be conceived proportionable 
 to the greatness of this desolating change. 
 
 Second! ij, And the ojij^ortunity of prevention was quite 
 lost ! There was an opportunity ; he was sent to the lost 
 sheep of the house of Israel, ^he came to them as his owti. 
 Had they received him, O how joyful a place had Jerusalem 
 been ! How glorious had the triumphs of the * love of* God 
 been there, had they repented, believed, obeyed ! These were 
 the things that belonged to their peace ; this was their oppor- 
 tunity, " their day of visitation ;" these were the things that 
 might have been done within that day ; but it was now too 
 
 ' Ps. cxxii. 4, 5.
 
 272 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 late, — tlieir clay was over, and the " things of their peace hid 
 from their eyes :" and how fervent were his desires they had 
 done otherwise, taken the wise and safe course ! " If thou 
 hadst known ! " The words admit the optative form, d being 
 put, as it is observed to be sometimes with other authors, for 
 fi^e, ntinam : " that thou hadst known, — I wish thou 
 hadst ! " His sorrow must be proportionable to his love ; or 
 otherwise, we may conceive the sentence incomplete, part cut 
 oif by a more emphatical aposiopesis, tears interrupting speech, 
 and imposing a more speaking silence ; which imports an 
 aifection beyond all words. They that were anciently so 
 over-officious as to rase those words, " and wept over it," out 
 of the canon, as thinking it unworthy so Divine a person to 
 shed tears, did greatly err, not knowing the Scriptures, which 
 elsewhere speak of our Lord's weeping ; nor the power of 
 Divine love, now become incarnate ; nor, indeed, the true 
 perfections and properties of hmnan nature : otherwise they 
 had never taken upon them to reform the Gospel, and reduce 
 not only Christianity, but Christ himself, to the measures and 
 square of their stoical philosophy: but these have also met 
 with a like ancient confutation. 
 
 One thing, before we proceed, needs some disquisition, 
 namely, whether this lamentation of our blessed Lord do 
 refer only or ultimately to the temporal calamity he foresaw 
 coming upon Jerusalem, or whether it had not a further 
 and more principal reference to their spiritual and eternal 
 miseries, that were certain to be conconlitant and conse- 
 quent thereunto? Where let it be considered, — 
 
 1. That very dreadfid spiritual plagues and judgments did 
 accompany their destruction very generally, which every one 
 knows who is acquainted with their after-story ; — that is, 
 that takes notice what spirit reigned among them, and what 
 their behaviour was towards our Lord himself and afterwards 
 towards his apostles and disciples, all along to their fearful 
 catastrophe, as it may be collected from the sacred records 
 and other history. What blindness of mind, what hardness 
 of heart, what mighty prejudice, what inflexible obstinacy,
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 273 
 
 against the clearest light, the largest mercy, the most per- 
 spicuous and most gracious doctrine and the most glorious 
 works wrought to confirm it, — against the brightest beams 
 and evidences of the Divine truth, love, and power ! What 
 persevering impenitency and infidelity against God and 
 Christ, proceeding from the bitterest enmity ! " They have 
 both seen and hated both me and my Father."^ What mad 
 rage and fury against one another, even when death and de- 
 struction were at the very door! Here were all the tokens 
 imaginable of the most tremendous infatuation and of their 
 being forsaken of God. Here was a concurrence of all kinds 
 of spiritual judgments in the highest degree. 
 
 2. That the concomitancy of such spiritual e\'ils with their 
 temporal destruction our Lord foreknew, as well as their 
 temporal destruction itself. It lay equally in view before 
 him, and was as much under his eye. He that knew what 
 teas in man could as well tell what would be in him ; and bv 
 the same light by which he could immediately look into 
 hearts, he could as well see into futurities, and as well the 
 one futurity as the other. The knowledge of the one he did 
 not owe to his human understanding ; to his Divine under- 
 standing, whereby he knew all things, the other coidd not 
 be hid. 
 
 3. The connection between the impenitency and infidelity 
 that prove to be final, and eternal misery, is known to us all. 
 Of his knowledge of it, therefore, whose law hath made the 
 connection, besides what there is in the nature of the things 
 themselves, there can be no doubt. 
 
 4. That the miseries of the soul, especially such as prove 
 incurable and eternal, are in themselves far the greatest, we 
 all acknowledge ; nor can we make a difiiculty to believe that 
 our Lord apprehended and considered things according as 
 they were in themselves, so as to allow everj^thing its own 
 proper weight and import in his estimating of them. These 
 things seem all very evident to any eye. 
 
 Now, though it be confessed not impossible, that of things 
 
 * John XV. 24. 
 
 n3
 
 274 THE eedeemee's teaks 
 
 so distinct from one another as outward and temporal evils 
 and those that are spiritual and eternal, even befalling the 
 same persons, one may for the present consider the one 
 without attending to the other or making distinct reflection 
 thereon at the same time ; yet how unlikely is it, these 
 things bordering so closely upon one another as they did 
 in the present case, that so comprehenme a mind as our 
 Saviour's was, sufficiently able to enclose them both, — and so 
 spiritual a mind, apt no doubt to consider most what was in 
 itself most considerable, — should, in a solemn lamentation of 
 so sad a case, wholly overlook the saddest part, and stay his 
 thoughts only upon the surface and outside of it ! 
 
 That he mentions only the approaching outward calamity,^ 
 was that he spake in the hearing of the midtitude and upon 
 the way, but in passing, when there was not opportunity for 
 large discourse ; and therefore he spake what might soonest 
 strike their minds, was most liable to common apprehension, 
 and might most deeply affect ordinary and not yet enough 
 prepared hearers. 
 
 And he spake what he had, no doubt, a deep sense of 
 himself. Whatever of tender compassions might be expected 
 from the most perfect humanity and benignity could not be 
 wanting in him, upon the foresight of such a calamity as was 
 coming upon that place and people. But yet, what was the 
 sacking of a city, the destroying of pompous buildings, that 
 were all of a perishable material, the mangling of human 
 flesh, over which the worm was otherwise shortly to have 
 had dominion, to the alienation of men's minds from God, 
 their disaffection to the only means of their recovery and 
 reconciliation to him, and their subjection to his wrath and 
 curse for ever? When also it is plain he considered that 
 perverse temper of mind and spirit in them as the cause of 
 their ruin, which his own words imply ; that " the things 
 which belonged to their peace were hid from their eyes," and 
 that the things he foretold should befall them, because "they 
 knew not the time of their visitation." For what could the 
 
 1 Luke xix. 43, 44.
 
 "WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 275 
 
 things be that belonged to their peace, but turning to God, 
 believing in himself as the Messiah, bringing forth of fruits 
 meet for repentance ? Whence also there must be another 
 latent and concealed meaning of their peace itself than only 
 their continued amity with the Eoman state ; — their peace 
 with heaven, their being set right and standing in favour 
 and acceptance with God. For was it ever the first intention 
 of the things enjoined in the gospel, but to entitle men to 
 earthly, secular benefits ? 
 
 Nor can we doubt but the same things lay deep in the 
 mind of our blessed Lord when he uttered these words, as 
 when he spake those so very like them, " Jerusalem, 
 Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them 
 which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered 
 thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens 
 under her wangs, and ye would not ! I3ehold, your house is 
 left unto you desolate." ^ These other were not spoken, in- 
 deed, at the same time, but very soon after : those we are 
 considering, in his way to the city ; t]iese when he was come 
 into it,— most probably, by the series of the evangelical 
 history, the second day, after his ha^dng lodged the first 
 night at Bethany. But it is plain they have the same sense, 
 and that the same things lay with great weight upon his 
 spirit ; so that the one passage may contribute much to the 
 enlightening and expounding of the other. 
 
 Now, what can be meant by that, " I would have gathered 
 you as the hen her chickens under her wings ? " Could it 
 intend a political meaning ; — that he would have been a 
 temporal prince and saviour to them ; which he so earnestly 
 declined and disclaimed, professing to the last his kingdom 
 was not of this world ? It could mean no other thing but 
 that he would have reduced them back to God, have gathered 
 and united them under his own gracious and safe conduct in 
 order thereto, have secured them from the Divine wrath and 
 justice, and have conferred on them spiritual and eternal 
 
 1 Matt, xxiii. 37, 38.
 
 276 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 blessings. In a like sense tlieir peace here was no doubt 
 more principally to be understood ; and their loss and for- 
 feiture of it, by their not understanding the things belong- 
 ing thereto, considered and lamented. 
 
 Therefore the principal intendment of this lamentation, 
 though directly applied to a community and the fonned body 
 of a people, is equally applicable unto particular persons 
 living under the gospel ; or to whom the ordinary means of 
 their conversion and salvation are vouchsafed, but are 
 neglected by them and forfeited. We may therefore thus 
 sum up the meaning and sense of these words : — That it is a 
 thing in itself very lamentable, and much lamented by our 
 Lord Jesus, when such as, living imder the gospel, have had 
 a day of grace and an opportunity' of knowing the things 
 belonging to their peace, have so outworn that day and lost 
 their opportmiity, that the things of their peace are quite hid 
 from their eyes. Where we have these distinct heads of 
 discourse to be severally considered and insisted on : — 
 
 I. What are the tilings neccssar)/ to be Jniown by such as live 
 under the gospel, as immediately belonging to their peace. 
 
 II. That tliey have a clay or season wherein to know, not 
 these things only, but the whole compass of their case, and 
 what the knowledge of those things more immediately be- 
 longing to their peace supposes and depends upon. 
 
 III. That this day hath its bounds and limits ; so that when 
 it is over and lost, those things are for ever hid from their 
 eyes.^ 
 
 lY. That this is a case to he considered icith deep resentment 
 and lamentation, and was so by our Lord Jesus. 
 
 L What are the tilings necessary to be known by such as 
 live under the gospel, as iminediately belonging to their 
 peace. Where we are more particidarly to inquire, — 1. What 
 those things themselves are ; 2. What sort of knowledge of 
 them it is that is here meant, and made necessary. 
 
 1. What the things are fchich belong to the peace of a people 
 living imder the gospel. The things belonging to a people's 
 peace are not throughout the same with all. Living, or not
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 277 
 
 living under tlie gospel, makes a considerable difference in 
 the matter. Before the incarnation and public aj)pearance 
 of our Lord, something was not necessary among the Jews 
 that afterwards became necessary. It was sufficient to them 
 before, to believe in a Messiah to come, more indefinitely. 
 Afterwards he plainly tells them, "If ye believe not that I 
 am he, ye shall die in your sins."^ Believing in Christ 
 cannot be necessary to Pagans that never heard of him, 
 as a duty, howsoever necessary it may be as a means. 
 Their not believing in him cannot be itself a sin, though 
 by it they should want remedy for their other sins. But 
 it more concerns us who do live under the gospel, to appre- 
 hend aright what is necessary for ourselves. That is a 
 short and full summary which the apostle gives, " Repent- 
 ance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ."^ 
 The gospel finds us in a state of apostasy from God, both as 
 our sovereign ruler and sovereign good ; not aj)t to obey and 
 glorifjr him as the former, nor enjoy him and be satisfied in 
 him as the latter. Repentance toAvards God cures and 
 removes this disaffection of our minds and hearts towards 
 him, under both these notions. By it the whole soul turns to 
 him with this sense and resolution : ' I have been a rebellious, 
 disloyal wretch, against the high authority and most rightful 
 government of Him who gave me breath and whose creature 
 I am. I will live no longer thus. Lo ! now I come back 
 mito thee, Lord ; thou art my Lord and God. Thee I now 
 design to serve and obey as the Lord of my life. Thee I will 
 fear. Unto thee I subject myself, to live no longer after my 
 own will, but thine. I have been hitherto a miserable, 
 forlorn, distressed creature, destitute of anything that could 
 satisfy me or make me happy ; — have set my heart upon a 
 vain and thorny world, that had nothing in it answerable to 
 my real necessities ; that hath flattered and mocked me often, 
 never satisfied me ; and been wont to requite my pursuits of 
 satisfaction from it with vexation and trouble, and "pierce 
 me through with many sorrows." I have borne in the mean- 
 > John viii. 24. ^ Acts xx. 2L
 
 278 THE kedeemer's tears 
 
 time a disaffected heart towards tliee ; have therefore cast 
 thee out of my thoughts ; so that amidst all my disappoint- 
 ments and sorrows, it never came into my mind to say, 
 " AVhere is God my Maker?" I could never savour any- 
 thing spiritual or divine ; and was ever more ready in 
 distress to turn myself any way than that which I ought, — 
 towards Thee. I now see and bemoan my folly, and with a 
 convinced, self-judging heart, betake myself to thee. " The 
 desire of my soul is now to thy name, and to the remem- 
 brance of thee." " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and 
 there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee." ' 
 
 This is " repentance toward God," and is one thing belong- 
 ing and most simply necessary to our peace. But though it 
 be most necessary, it is not enough. It answers to something 
 of our wretched case, but not to everything.' We were, in 
 our state of apostasy, averse and disaffected to God. To this 
 evil, repentance towards him is the opposite and only proper 
 remedy. But besides our being without inclination towards 
 him, we are also without interest in him. We not only had 
 unjustly cast off him, but were also most justly cast off by 
 him. Our injustice had set us against him, and his justice 
 had set him against us. We need, in order to our peace with 
 him, to be relieved as well against his justice as our own 
 injustice. What if, now we would return to him, he will not 
 receive us ? — and he will not receive us for our own sakes. 
 He must have a recompense for the wrong we had done him 
 by our rebellion against his government and our contempt of 
 his goodness. Our repentance is no expiation. Nor had we 
 of our own, or were capable of obliging him to give us, the 
 power and grace to repent. Our high violation of the sacred 
 rights and honour of the Godhead made it necessary, in order 
 to our peace and reconciliation, there should be a sacrifice, 
 and a mediator between him and us. He hath judged it not 
 honourable to him, not becoming him, to treat with us or 
 vouchsafe us favours, upon other terms. And since he 
 thought it necessary to insist upon having a sacrifce, he 
 judged it necessary too to have one proportionable to the
 
 ^^T,VT OVER LOST SOULS. 279 
 
 wrong done, lest he should make the majesty of heaven 
 cheap, or occasion men to think it a light matter to have 
 fundamentally overturned the common order which was 
 settled between himself and men. The whole earth could 
 not have afforded such a sacrifice ; — it must be supplied from 
 heaven. Plis co-eternal Son, made man, and so uniting 
 heaven and earth in his own person, undertakes to be that 
 sacrifice, and, in the virtue of it, to be a standing, continual 
 mediator between God and us. Through him, and for his 
 sake, all acts and influences of grace are to proceed towards 
 us. No sin is to be forgiven, no grace to be conferred, but 
 upon his accoimt. It is reckoned most God-like, most suit- 
 able to the Divine greatness, once offended, to do nothing that 
 shall import favour towards sinners, but upon his constant 
 interposition. Him hath- he set over us, and directed that all 
 our applications to himself, and all our expectations from 
 him, should be through him. " Him hath he exalted to be a 
 Prince and a Saviour, to give us repentance and remission of 
 sins."^ Now to one so high in power over us, he expects we 
 should pay a suitable homage. That homage the Holy Scrip- 
 ture calls by the nauxe of fa if />, believing on hijn: "Whom God 
 hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, 
 to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are 
 past, through the forbearance of God; to declare his righteous- 
 ness, that he might be just, and the justifier of him which 
 believeth in Jesus." ^ So that when by repentance we turn 
 to God, as our end, we must also apply ourselves by faith to 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, as our way to that end : which till we 
 do, we are in rebellion still, and know not what belongs to 
 our peace. He insists that his Son, into whose hands he hath 
 committed our affairs, should be honoured by us as he himself 
 requires to be.^ 
 
 Now these two things sum up our part of the covenant 
 
 between God and us. By repentance, we again take God for 
 
 our God : repenting, we return to him as our God. By 
 
 faith, we take his Son for our Prince and Saviour. These 
 
 1 Acts v. .3L 2 Ymyo.. iii. 25, 26. ^ John v. 23.
 
 280 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 things, by tlie tenor of tlie evangelical covenant, are required 
 of us. Peace is settled between God and us — as it is usually 
 witb men towards one another after mutual hostilities — by 
 striking a covenant. And in our case, it is a covenant by 
 sacrifice, as you have seen. Nor are harder terms than these 
 imposed upon us. Dost thou now, sinner, apprehend thyself 
 gone off from God, and find a war is commenced and on foot, 
 between God and thee ? He can easily conquer and crush 
 thee to nothing, but he offers thee terms of peace upon which 
 he is willing to enter into covenant with thee. Dost thou 
 like his terms ? Art thou willing to return to him, and take 
 him again for thy God ; to resign and commit thyself, with 
 unfeigned trust and subjection, into the hands of his Son thy 
 Redeemer ? These are " the things which belong to thy 
 peace." See that thou now know them. 
 
 2. But tvhat hioicledge of them is it that is here meant ? 
 The thing speaks itself. It is not a mere contemplative 
 knowledge. We must so know them as to do them ; other- 
 wise the increase of knowledge is the increase of sorrow. 
 Thy guilt and misery will be the greater. To know any- 
 thing that concerns our practice is to no purpose, if we do 
 not practise it. It was a Hebrew form of speech, and is a 
 common form, by words of knowledge to imply practice ; it 
 being taken for granted, that in matters so very reasonable 
 and important, if what we are to do, once be rightly known, 
 it will be done. Thus elsewhere the same great requisites to 
 eternal life and blessedness are expressed by our Lord : 
 "This is life eternal, to know thee the only true God, and 
 Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent;" it being supposed and 
 taken for granted, that a true, vivid knowledge of God and 
 Christ will immediately form the soul to all suitable disposi- 
 tions and deportments towards the one and the other, and, 
 consequently, to all men also, as Christian precepts do direct 
 to all the acts of sobriety, justice, and charity, mito which 
 the law of Christ obliges. An habitual course of sin in any 
 kind is inconsistent with this knowledge of the "things of 
 our peace," and therefore with our peace itself. All sin is
 
 WEPT O'S'ER LOST SOULS. 281 
 
 in a true sense reducible to ignorance, and customary sinning 
 into total destitution of divine knowledge, according to the 
 usual style of the sacred writings : " Awake to righteousness, 
 and sin not ; for some have not the knowledge of God." ^ 
 "He that sinneth," — that is a doer of sin, KaKoirotZiv, "a 
 worker of iniquity," — "hath not seen God."^ 
 
 II. Such as live under the gospel have a dan, ^^' a present 
 opportunity, for the obtaining the knowledge of these things 
 immediately belonging to their peace, and of whatsoever is 
 besides necessary thereunto. I say nothing what oppor- 
 tunities they have who never Kved under the gospel ; who 
 yet no doubt might generally know more than they do, and 
 know better what they do know. It suffices us, who enjoy 
 the gospel, to imderstand our own advantages thereby. Nor, 
 as to those who do enjoy it, is every one's day of equal clear- 
 ness. How few, in comparison, have ever seen such a day as 
 Jerusalem at this time did, — made by the immediate beams 
 of the Sun of righteousness ; our Lord himself vouchsafing 
 to be their instructor, so " speaking as never man did," and 
 with such authority as far outdid their other teachers, and 
 astonished the hearers ! In what transports did he use to 
 leave those that heard him, wheresoever he came, " wonder- 
 ing at the gracious words that came out of his mouth ! " 
 And with what mighty and beneficial works was he wont to 
 recommend his doctrine, shining in the glorious power and 
 savouring of the abmidant mercy of heaven, so as every 
 apprehensive mind might see the Deity was incarnate, God 
 was come down to treat with men, and allure them into the 
 knowledge and love of himself! "The Word was made 
 flesh." What unprejudiced mind might not perceive it to 
 be so ? He was there manifested and veiled at once ; — both 
 expressions are used concerning the same matter. The 
 divine beams were somewhat obscured, but did yet raj^ 
 through that veil ; so that his glory was beheld as " the glory 
 of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth." ^ 
 This Sim shone "wdth a mild and benign, but with a powerful, 
 1 1 Cor. XV. 34. ~ 1 John iii. 6. 3 joi^^ j. 14.
 
 282 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 vivifying light. " In liim was life ; and the life was the 
 light of men." Such a light created unto the Jews "this 
 theii^ day." Happy Jews, if they had understood their own 
 happiness ! And the days that followed to them, for a while, 
 and the Gentile world, were not inferior, in some respects 
 brighter and more glorious, — the more copious gift of the 
 Holy Ghost being reserved unto the crowning and enthron- 
 ing of the victorious Redeemer, — when the everlasting gospel 
 flew like lightning to the utmost ends of the earth ; and the 
 word "which began to be spoken by the Lord himself was 
 confirmed by them that heard him ; God also himself bearing 
 them witness, with signs, and wonders, and gifts of the Holy 
 Ghost. "^ N^o such day hath been seen this many an age. 
 Yet whithersoever the same gospel, for substance, comes, it 
 also makes a day of the same kind, and affords always true, 
 though diminished light ; whereby, however, the things of 
 our peace might be imderstood and known. The written 
 gospel varies not : and if it be but simply and plainly 
 proposed, though to some it be proposed with more ad- 
 vantage, to some with less, yet still we have the same things 
 immediately relating to our peace extant before our eyes ; 
 and divers things besides, which it concerns us to be ac- 
 quainted with, that we may the more distinctly, and to 
 better purpose, understand these things. For instance, — 
 
 1. We have the true and distinct state of the quarrel between 
 God and us. Pagans have understood somewhat of the 
 apostasy of man from God ; — that he is not in the same state 
 wherein he was at first. But while they have understood 
 that something was amiss, — they could scarce tell what, — 
 the gospel reveals the universal pravity of the degenerate 
 nature even of all men, and of every faculty in man : that 
 "there is none that doeth good, no, not one;" and that 
 every one is altogether become filthy and impure ; " — that 
 there is an entire " old man to be put off, wholly corrupt by 
 deceivable lusts ; " "^ that the aKpoTroAt*,-, the noblest powers, are 
 
 1 Heb. ii. 3, 4. 2 Rom. iii. 12. » Eph. iv. 22.
 
 "VVT.PT OVER LOST SOtlLS. 283 
 
 vitiated, tlie mind and conscience defiled, — that the spirit of 
 the mind needs renewing, is sunk into carnality ; and that 
 " the carnal mind is enmity against God, and is not subject 
 to his law, nor can be," ^ nor capable of savouring the things 
 of God ; that the sinner is in the flesh, under the dominion 
 and power and in the possession of the fleshly, sensual nature, 
 and can therefore neither obey God nor enjoy Him, — that it 
 is become impossible to him either to please God, or be 
 pleased with Him : that the sinner's quarrel therefore with 
 God is about the most appropriate rights of the Godhead ; 
 the controversy is — who shall be God ? which is the supreme 
 authority ? and which is the supreme good ? The formal 
 peculiarity of the Godhead, the lapsed creature is become so 
 insolent as to usurp and arrogate to himself. When he is 
 become so much less than a man, a very beast, he will be a 
 god. His sensual will shall be his only law. He lives and 
 walks after the flesh, serves divers lusts and pleasures, and 
 says, 'Who is lord over me?' But being conscious that he 
 is not self-suflicient, that he must be beholden to somoAvhat 
 foreign to himself for his satisfaction and finding nothing 
 else suitable to his sensual inclination, that other divine 
 peculiarity, to be the supreme good, he places upon the 
 sensible world ; and for this purpose that shall be his god : 
 so that between himself and the world he attempts to share 
 the undivided Godhead. This is a controversy of a high 
 nature, and about other matters than even the Jewish 
 rabbins thought of, who, when Jerusalem was destroyed, 
 supposed God was angry with them for their neglect of the 
 recitation of their phylacteries morning and evening ; or 
 that they were not respectful enough of one another ; or 
 that distance enough was not observed between superiors 
 and inferiors, etc. The gospel impleads men as rebels 
 against their rightful Lord ; but of this treason against the 
 Majesty of heaven men little suspect themselves till they are 
 told. The gospel tells them so plainly, represents the matter 
 
 ' Rom. viii. 7.
 
 284 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 in so clear light, that they need only to contemplate them- 
 selves in that light, and they may see that so it is. Men 
 may indeed, by resolved, stiff winking, create to themselves 
 a darkness amidst the clearest light. But open thine eyes, 
 man, thou that livest mider the gospel, set thyself to view 
 thine o^vn soul, — thou wilt find it is day with thee. Thou 
 hast a day by being under the gospel, and light enough to 
 see that this is the j)osture of thy soid and the state of thy 
 case Godward. And it is a great matter towards the under- 
 standing the things of thy peace, to know aright what is the 
 true state of the quarrel between God and thee. 
 
 2. The gospel affords light to know what the issue of this 
 quarrel is sure to be, if it go on and there be no reconciliation. 
 It gives us other and plainer accounts of the punishments of 
 the other world ; more fully represents the extremity and 
 perpetuit}^ of the future miseries and state of perdition ap- 
 pointed for the ungodly world ; speaks out concerning the 
 "tophet prepared of old," "the lake of fire and brimstone;" 
 — shows the miseries of that state to be the immediate effects 
 of divine displeasure ; that '* the breath of the Almighty," 
 as a " river of brimstone," always foments those flames ; 
 that "indignation and wrath" cause the "tribidation and 
 anguish " which must be the portion of evil-doers ; and how 
 " fearful a thing it is to fall into the hands of the living 
 God;"^ — gives us to understand what accession men's own 
 tmaltered, vicious habits will have to their miseries, — their 
 own outrageous lusts and passions, which here they made it 
 their business to satisfy, becoming their insatiable tormentors ; 
 that they are to receive the things done in the body according 
 to what they have done, and that what they have sowed, the 
 same also they are to reap ; and what their own guilty 
 reflections will contribute, — the bitings and gnawings of the 
 worm that dies not, the venomous corrosions of the viper 
 bred in their own bosoms and now become a full-grown 
 serpent ; what the society and insultation of devils, with 
 
 1 Isa. XXX. 33; Rev. xxi. 8; Rom. ii. 8, 9; Heb. x. 31.
 
 "VVEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 285 
 
 whom they are to partake in woes and torments, and by 
 whom the}^ have been seduced and trained into that cursed 
 partnership and communion ; and that this fire wherein they 
 are to be tormented together, is to be everhisting, — a fire 
 never to be quenched. If men be left to their o^^^l con- 
 jectures only, touching the danger they incur by continuing 
 and keeping up a war with heaven ; and are to make their 
 own hell, and that it be the creature only of their own 
 imagination, — it is like thej^ will make it as easy and favour- 
 able as they can ; and so are little likely to be urged earnestly 
 to sue for peace by the imagination of a tolerable hell. But 
 if they understand it to be altogether intolerable, this may 
 make them bestir themselves and think the favour of God 
 worth the seeking. The gospel imports favour and kindness 
 to you, when it imports most of terror, in telling you so 
 plainly the worst of your case if you go on in a sinful course. 
 It makes you "a day," by which you may make a truer 
 judgment of the blackness, darkness, and horror of that ever- 
 lasting night that is coming on upon you ; and lets you 
 know that black and endless night is introduced by a terrible 
 preceding day, — that " day of the Lord," the business whereof 
 is judgment. They that live under the gospel cannot pretend 
 they are in darkness, so "as that day should overtake them 
 as a thief;" and that, by surprise, they shoidd be doomed 
 and abandoned to the regions of darkness. The gospel fore- 
 warns you plainly of all this ; which it does, not merely to 
 fright and torment you before the time, but that you may 
 steer your com-se another way, and escape the place and state 
 of torment. It only says this, that it may render the more 
 acceptable to you what it hath to say besides ; and only 
 threatens you with these things, if there be no reconciliation 
 between God and you. But then, at the same time, — 
 
 3. It also represents God to you as rcconcUahle through a 
 Mediator. In that gospel, "peace is preached to you by 
 Jesus Christ." That gospel lets you see "God in Christ 
 reconciling the world mito himself, that sin may not be 
 imputed to them." That gospel proclaims " glory to God in
 
 286 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 the highest, on earth peace, good will toward men." So did 
 the voices of angels sum up the glad tidings of the gospel, 
 when that Prince of peace was born into the world. It tells 
 you, " God desires not the death of sinners, but that they may 
 turn and live ; " that "he will have all men to be saved, and 
 to come unto the knowledge of the truth ; " that " he is long- 
 suffering towards them, not willing that any should perish, 
 but that all should come to repentance ; " that "he so loved 
 the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whoso- 
 ever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting 
 life." The rest of the world cannot but collect, from 
 darker intimations, God's favourable propensions towards 
 them. He spares them, is patient towards them, that herein 
 his " goodness might lead them to repentance." He sustains 
 them, lets them dwell in a world which they might under- 
 stand was of his making, and whereof he is absolute Lord. 
 They " live, move, and have their being in him," that they 
 might seek after him, and by feeling find him out. He 
 " doth them good, gives them rain from heaven and frxiitful 
 seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness." He 
 lets his sun shine on them, whose far- extended beams show 
 forth his kindness and benignity to men, even to the utmost 
 ends of the earth ; for there is no speech or language whither 
 his line and circle reaches not. But those are but dull and 
 glimmering beams in comparison of those that shine from the 
 Sun of righteousHess through the gospel revelation, and in 
 respect of that Divine glory which appears in the face of 
 Jesus Christ. How clearly doth the light of this gospel-day 
 reveal God's design of reducing sinners and reconciling 
 them to himself by a Redeemer ! How canst thou but say, 
 sinner, thou hast a day of it, and clear day-light showing 
 thee what "the good and acceptable will of God" towards 
 thee is ? Thou art not left to guess only thou mayst be 
 reconciled and find mercy, and to grope and feel thy way in 
 the dark, — unless it be a darkness of thy own making. And 
 whereas a sinner, — a disloyal, rebellious creature, that hath 
 affronted the Majesty of heaven, and engaged against himself
 
 ■WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 287 
 
 tlie wrath and justice of his Maker, and is unable to make 
 him an}^ recompense, — can have no reason to hope God will 
 show him mercy, and be reconciled to him for his oAvn sake 
 or for anything he can do to oblige or induce Him to it, the 
 same gospel shows you plainly it is for the Redeemer's sake, 
 and what he hath done and suffered to procure it. But inas- 
 much also as the sinner may easily apprehend that it can 
 never answer the necessities of his state and case, that God 
 only be not his enemy, that he forbear hostilities towards 
 him, pursue him not with vengeance to his destruction ; — for 
 he finds himself an indigent creature, and he needs somewhat 
 beyond what he hath ever yet met with to make him 
 happy, — that it is uneasy and grievous to -o-ander up and 
 down with craving desires among varieties of objects that 
 look speciously, but which either he cannot so far compass as 
 to make a trial what there is in them, or wherewith, upon 
 trial, he finds himself mocked and disappointed, and that 
 really they have nothing in them ; he finds himself a 7nortal 
 creature, and considers that if he had all that he can covet in 
 this world, the increase of his present enjoyments doth but 
 increase unto him trouble and anguish of heart, while he 
 thinks what great things he must shortly leave and lose for 
 ever, to go he knows not whither, into darksome, gloomy 
 regions, where he cannot so much as imagine anything suit- 
 able to his inclinations and desires, — for he knows allthat is 
 delectable to his present sense he must here leave behind 
 him, and he cannot divest himself of all apprehensions of a 
 future state, wherein if God should make him suffer nothing, 
 yet, if he have nothing to enjoy, he must be ahtxnjs miser- 
 able : — therefore, 
 
 4. The gospel further represents to him the final, eternal 
 blessedness and glorious state, which they that are reconciled 
 shall be brought into. They that live mider the gospel 
 are not mocked with shadows and empty clouds, or with 
 fabulous elysiums^ Nor are they put oft" with some unin- 
 telligible notion 6f only being happy in the general; but 
 are told expressly wherein their happiness is to consist.
 
 288 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 " Life and immortality are brought to light in the gospel." 
 It is given them to understand how great a good is laid up 
 in store. " The things which eye hath not seen, and ear not 
 heard, and which otherwise could not have entered into the 
 heart of man," the things of God's present and eternal 
 kingdom, are set in view. It shows the future state of the 
 reconciled shall consist not only in freedom from what is evil, 
 but in the enjoyment of the best and most delectable good ; 
 that God Himself in all his glorious fulness will be their 
 eternal and most satisfying portion ; that their blessedness is 
 to lie in the perpetual fruitive vision of his blessed face, and 
 in the fuhiess of joy and the everlasting pleasures which the 
 Divine presence itself doth perpetually aftbrd. And whereas 
 their glorious Redeemer is so nearly allied to them, flesh of 
 their flesh, — who " inasmuch as the children were made 
 partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took 
 part of the same,"^ — and is become by special title their 
 authorized Lord, they are assured of that than which no- 
 thing should be more grateful to them, — " they shall be for 
 ever with the Lord ; " that they are to be where he is, to 
 behold his glory; and shall be joint-heirs with Christ, and 
 be glorified together with him ; shall partake, according to 
 their measure and capacity, in the same blessedness which he 
 enjoys. Thou canst not pretend, sinner, who livest under 
 the gospel, that thou hast not the light of the day to show 
 thee what blessedness is. Heaven is opened to thee. Glory 
 beams do^\m from thence upon thee, to create thee a day by 
 the light whereof thou mayst see with sufficient clearness 
 what is the inheritance of the saints in light. And though 
 all is not told thee, and it do not in every respect appear 
 what we shall be, so much may be foreknown, that " when 
 he shall appear we shall be like him, and shall see him as he 
 is."^ And because the heart, as yet carnal, can savour little 
 of all this ; and finding itself strange and disaffected to God, 
 affecting now to be without Christ and without God in the 
 world, may easily apprehend it impossible to it to be happy 
 1 Heb. ii. 14. - 1 Johu iii. 2.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOILS, 289 
 
 in an undesired good, or that it can enjoy wliat it dislil^es, or, 
 in the meantime, walk in a way to which it finds in itself 
 nothing but utter averseness and disinclination, — 
 
 5. The gospel further shows us ivhat is to he tcrought and 
 done in us to attemper and frame our sjnrits to our future state 
 and present wai/ to it. It lets us know we are to be " born 
 again," born from above, "born of God," "made partakers 
 of a divine nature," that will make the temper of our spirits 
 connatural to the Divine presence ; — that whereas " God is 
 light, and in him is no darkness at all," we, " who were 
 darkness, shall be made light in the Lord ; " that we are to 
 be "begotten again- to a lively hope, to the eternal and un de- 
 filed inheritance that is reserved in the heavens for us ;" that 
 we are thus to be made "meet to be partakers of the 
 inheritance of the saints in light;" — and as we are to be 
 eternally conversant with Christ, w'e are here "to put on 
 Christ," to have Christ in us the "hope of glory;" — and 
 whereas only the way of holiness and obedience leads to 
 blessedness, that we are "to be created in Christ Jesus unto 
 good works, to walk in them;" and shall thereupon find the 
 ways prescribed to us by Him who is the Wisdom of God, to 
 be all ways of pleasantness and paths of peace ; that he will 
 put his Spirit into us, and cause us to walk in his statutes and 
 to account that " in keeping of them there is great reward." 
 And thus all that is contained in that mentioned summary of 
 the things belonging to our peace, " Kepentance towards God, 
 and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ," will all become easy to 
 us and as the acts of nature, proceeding from that new^ and 
 holy nature imparted to us. 
 
 And whosoever thou art that livest under the gospel, canst 
 thou deny that it is day with thee, as to all this ? Wast thou 
 never told of this great necessary heart- change ? Didst thou 
 never hear that the tree must be made good, that the fruit 
 might be good ; that thou must become a new creature, have 
 old things done away and all things made new ? Didst thou 
 never hear of the necessity of having a new heart and a right 
 spirit created and renewed in thee ; that except thou wert 
 
 VOL. II. o
 
 290 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 " born again," (or " from above," as that expression may be 
 read,) thou couldst never enter into the kingdom of God ? Wast 
 thou kept in ignorance, that a form of godliness without the 
 power of it would never do thee good ; that a name to live 
 without the principle of the holy, divine life, would never 
 save thee ; that a sj)ecious outside, that all thy external per- 
 formances, while thou wentest with an vmrenewed, earthly, 
 carnal heart, would never advantage thee as to thy eternal 
 salvation and blessedness? And this might help thine under- 
 standing concerning the nature of thy futm'e blessedness, and 
 will be found most agreeable to it, being aright understood : 
 for as thou art not to be blessed by a blessedness without thee 
 and distant from thee, but inwrought into thy temper and 
 intimately united with thee ; nor glorified by an external 
 glory, but by a glory revealed within thee ; so nor canst thou 
 be qualified for that blessed, glorious state otherwise than by 
 having the temper of thy soul made habitually holy and good. 
 As what "a good man" partakes of happiness here, is such 
 that he is "satisfied from himself;" so it must be hereafter, 
 not originally from himself, but by divine communication 
 made most intimate to him. Didst thou not know that it 
 belonged to thy peace to have a peace-maker ; and that the 
 Son of God was he ; and that he makes not the peace of 
 those that despise and refuse him, or that receive him not, 
 that come not to him, and are not ^\alling to come to God by 
 him ? Couldst thou think, living under the gospel, that the 
 reconciliation between God and thee was not to be mutual ; 
 that he woiild be reconciled to thee while thou wouldst not be 
 reconciled to him, or shoiddst still bear towards him a dis- 
 affected, implacable heart ? For couldst thou be so void of 
 all understanding as not to apprehend what the gospel was 
 sent to thee for, or why it was necessary to be preached to 
 thee, or that thou shouldst hear it ? Who was to be recon- 
 ciled by a gospel preached to thee but thyself? Who was to 
 be persuaded by a gospel sent to thee, — God or thou ? Who 
 is to be persuaded but the unwilKng ? The gospel, as thou 
 hast been told, reveals God willing to be reconciled, and
 
 WEPT OVEK I-OST SOULS. 291 
 
 thereupon beseeches thee to be reconciled to him. Or could 
 it seem likely to thee thou couldst ever be reconciled to Grod, 
 and continue unreconciled to thy Reconciler? To what 
 purpose is there a daysman, a middle person between God 
 and thee^ if thou wilt not meet him in that middle person ? 
 Dost thou not know that Christ avails thee nothing if thou 
 still stand at a distance with him, if thou dost not iniite and 
 adjoin thyself to him, or art not in him ? And dost thou not 
 again know that Divine power and grace must unite thee to 
 him ; and that a work must be wrought and done upon thy 
 soul by an almighty hand, by God himself, a mighty trans- 
 forming work, to make thee capable of that union ; that 
 whosoever is in Christ is " a new creature ;"^ that thou must 
 be of God in Christ Jesus, who then is made unto thee of God 
 also, " wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and re- 
 demption ; " - every way answering the exigency of thy case, 
 as thou art a foolish, guilty, impure, and enslaved or lost 
 creature ? Didst thou never hear that none can come to 
 Christ but whom the Father draws ; and that he draws the 
 reasonable souls of men not violently or against their wills ; — 
 he draws, yet drags them not, but makes them willing in the 
 day of power, by giving a new nature and new inclinations 
 to them ? It is sure with thee not dark night, not a dubious 
 twilight, but broad day as to all this. 
 
 ' Yes,' perhaps thou mayst say, ' but this makes my case 
 the worse, not the better, for it gives me at length to under- 
 stand that what is necessary to my peace and welfare is 
 impossible to me, and so the light of my day doth but serve 
 to let m.e see myself miserable and undone, and that I have 
 nothing to do to relieve and help myself.' I therefore add, — 
 
 6. That by being under the gospel, men have not only 
 
 light to understand whatsoever is any way necessary to their 
 
 peace, but opportunity to obtain that communication of Divine 
 
 jjower and grace whereby to comply with the terms of it. 
 
 Whereupon, if this be made good, you have not a pretence 
 
 left you to say your case is the worse or that you receive any 
 
 1 2 Cor. V. 17. - 1 Cor. i. 30. 
 
 O 2
 
 292 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 prejudice, by what the gospel reveals of your own iinpo- 
 tency to relieve and help yourselves; or determines touch- 
 ing the terms of your peace and salvation, making such 
 things necessary thereto as are to you impossible and out of 
 your own present power ; unless it be a prejudice to ^ou not 
 to have your pride gratified, and that God hath pitched upon 
 such a method for your salvation as shall wholly turn to the 
 praise of the glory of his grace, or that you are to be ^' of him 
 in Christ Jesus " — " that whosoever glorieth might glory in 
 the Lord."^ Is it for a sinner that hath deserved and is 
 ready to perish, to insist upon being saved with reputation ; 
 or to envy the great God, upon whose pleasure it wholly 
 depends whether he shall be saved or not saved, the entire 
 glory of saving him ? For otherwise, excepting the mere 
 business of glory and reputation, is it not all one to you, 
 whether you have the power in your own hands of changing 
 your hearts, of being the authors to yourselves of that holy, 
 new nature out of which actual faith and repentance are to 
 spring, or whether you may have it from the God of all 
 grace, flowing to you from its own proper, divine fountain ? 
 Your case is not, sure, really the worse that your salvation 
 from first to last is to be all of grace and that it is impossible 
 to you to repent and believe, while it is not simply impossible, 
 but that He can efiectually enable you thereto, " unto whom 
 all things are possible;" supposing that he will, — whereof 
 by and by. Naj", and it is more glorious and honourable 
 even to you, — if you understand yourselves, — that your case 
 is so stated as it is. The gospel indeed plainly tells you that 
 your repentance must be given you. Christ " is exalted to be 
 a Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and remission of 
 sins." And so nnist your faith, and that frame of spirit which 
 is the principle of all good works : " By grace are ye saved 
 through faith ; and that not of yourselves : it is the gift of 
 God : not of works, lest any man should boast. Tor we are 
 his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, 
 which God hath before ordained that we should walk in 
 1 1 Cor. i. 30, 31.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 293 
 
 tliem."! Is it more glorious to have nothing in you but 
 what is self-sprung, than to have your souls the seat and re- 
 ceptacle of divine communications, of so excellent things as 
 could have no other than a heavenly original ? If it were 
 not absurd and impossible you should be self-begotten, is it 
 not much more glorious to be born of God ? as they are said 
 to be that receive Christ : " But as many as received him, 
 to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to 
 them that believe on his name : which were born, not of 
 blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but 
 of God." 3 
 
 And now, that by being under the gospel you have the 
 opportunity of getting that grace which is necessary to your 
 peace and salvation, you may see, if you consider what the 
 gospel is, and was designed for. It is the ministration of the 
 Spirit ; that Spirit by which you are to be born again. ^ The 
 work of regeneration consists in the impregnating, and 
 making lively and efficacious in you, the holy truths con- 
 tained in the gospel : " Of his own good- will begat he us with 
 the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first-fruits of 
 his creatures:"* and again, " Being born again, not of cor- 
 ruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God."^ So 
 our Saviour prays, " Sanctify them through thy truth : thy 
 word is truth." ^ The gospel is upon this account called "the 
 word of life ; "'' as by which the principles of that Di\ane and 
 holy life are implanted in the soul whereby we live to God, do 
 what his gospel requires and hath made our duty, and that 
 ends at length in eternal life. But you will say, ' Shall all then 
 that live under the gospel obtain this grace and holy life ? 
 Or, if they shall not, or if, so far as can be collected, multi- 
 tudes do not, or perhaps in some places that enjoy the gospel, 
 very few do in comparison of them that do not, what am I 
 better ; when perhaps it is far more likely that I shall perish, 
 notwithstanding, than be saved ? ' 
 
 1 Eph. ii. 8—10. - John i. 12, 13. ^ johu iii. 3, .5, 6. 
 
 ■• Jas. i. 18. * 1 Pet. i. 23. 6 Johu xvii. 17. 
 
 1 Phil. ii. 16.
 
 294 
 
 THE REDEEMER S TEARS 
 
 In answer to this, it must be acknowledged that all that 
 live under the gospel do not obtain life and saving grace by 
 it. For then there had been no occasion for this lamentation 
 of our blessed Lord over the perishing inhabitants of Jeru- 
 salem, as having "lost their day," and that "the things of 
 their peace were now hid from their eyes." And by that 
 instance it appears too possible that even the generality of a 
 people living under the gospel may fall at length into the 
 like forlorn and hopeless condition. But art thou a man that 
 thus objectest, — a reasonable, understanding creature ? or 
 dost thou use the reason and understanding of a man in 
 objecting thus ? Didst thou expect that when thine own 
 wilful transgression had made thee liable to eternal death 
 and wrath, — peace, and life, and salvation, should be imposed 
 upon thee whether thou wouldst or no, or notwithstanding 
 thy most wilful neglect and contempt of them, and all the 
 means of them ? Could it enter into thy mind that a reason- 
 able soul should be wrought and framed for that high and 
 blessed end whereof it is radically capable, as a stock or a 
 stone is for any use it is designed for, without designing its 
 own end or way to it ? Couldst thou think the gospel was to 
 bring thee to faith and repentance whether thou didst hear it 
 or no, or ever apply thy mind to consider the meaning of it 
 and what it did propose and offer to thee ? Or when thou 
 mightst so easily understand that the grace of God was neces- 
 sary to make it effectual to thee, and that it might become 
 his power, or the instrument of his power, to thy salvation, 
 couldst thou think it concerned thee not to sue and suppli- 
 cate to him for that grace, when thy life lay upon it, and thy 
 eternal hope ? Hast thou lain weltermg at the footstool of 
 the throne of grace in thine o-^ti tears, as thou hast been 
 formerly weltering in thy sins and impurities, crying for 
 grace to help thee in this time of thy need ? And if thou 
 thinkest this was above thee and without thy compass, hast 
 thou done all that was within thy compass in order to the 
 obtaining of grace at God's hands ? 
 
 But here perhaps thou wilt inquire, ' Is there anything
 
 WEPT m'ER LOST SOULS. 295 
 
 tlien to be done by us, whereupon tbe grace of God may be 
 expected certainly to follow?' To which, I answer, — 
 
 (1.) That it is out of question nothing can be done by us 
 to deserve it, or for which we maj^ expect it to follow. It 
 were not grace, if we had obliged or brought it, b}'' our 
 desert, under former preventive bonds to us. And, — 
 
 (2.) What if nothing can be done by us upon icJiich it may 
 be certainly expected to follow ? Is a certainty of perishing 
 better than a high probability of being saved ? 
 
 (3.) Such as Kve under the gospel have reason to appre- 
 hend it highly probable they may obtain that grace which is 
 necessary to theii' salvation, if they be not wanting to them- 
 selves. For, — 
 
 (4.) There is generally afforded to such that which is wont 
 to be called common grace. I speak not of any further 
 extent of it ; it is enough to our present purpose that it 
 extends so far as to them that live under the gospel, and 
 have thereby a day allowed them wherein to provide for 
 their peace. Now, though this grace is not yet certainly 
 saving, yet it tends to that which is so. And none have 
 cause to despair, but that, being duly improved and complied 
 with, it may end in it. 
 
 And this is that which requires to be insisted on and more 
 fully evinced. In order whereto let it be considered, that it 
 is expressly said to such, they are to " work out their salva- 
 tion with fear and trembling," for this reason, that " God 
 worketh" (or "is working," eoriy 6 evepym') "in them," — 
 that is, statedly and continually at work, or is always ready 
 to work in them, — "to will and to do of his own good plea- 
 sure."^ The matter fails not on his part. He will work on 
 in order to their salvation, if they work in that way of subor- 
 dinate co-operation which his command and the necessity of 
 their own case oblige them unto. And it is further to be 
 considered, that where God had formerly afforded the sjonbols 
 of his gracious presence, given his oracles, and settled his 
 church, though yet in its nonage and much more imperfect 
 1 Phil. ii. 12, 13.
 
 296 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 state, there lie however communicated those influences of his 
 Spirit, that it was to be imputed to themselves if they came 
 short of the saving operations of it. Of such it was said, 
 "Thou gavest thy good Spirit to instruct them;"^ and to 
 such, "Turn you at my reproof: I will pour out my Spirit 
 unto you, I will make known my words unto you. Because 
 I called, and ye refused ; I stretched out my hand, and no 
 man regarded ; but ye set at nought all my counsel and would 
 none of my reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity,"^ etc. 
 We see whence their destruction came, — not from God's first 
 restraint of his Spirit, but their refusing, despising, and 
 setting at nought his comisels and reproofs. And when it 
 is said, " They rebelled, and vexed his Holy Spirit ; there- 
 fore he was turned to be their enemy, and fought against 
 them,"^ it appears that before his Spirit was not withheld, 
 but did variously and often make essays and attempts upon 
 them. And when Stephen, immediately before his martyr- 
 dom, thus bespeaks the descendants of these Jews, " Ye stiif- 
 necked and uncircumcised, ye do always resist the Holy 
 Ghost; as your fathers did, so do ye,"'^ it is implied the 
 Holy Ghost had been always striving from age to age with 
 that stubborn people ; for where there is no counter-striving 
 there can be no resistance, no more than there can be a war 
 on one side only ; which also appears to have been the course 
 of God's dealing with the old world, before their so general 
 lapse into idolatry and sensual wickedness, from that pas- 
 sage,^ according to the more common reading and sense of 
 those words. 
 
 ISTow whereas the gospel is eminently said to be the minis- 
 tration of the Spirit, in contradistinction not only to the 
 natural religion of other nations, but the divinely instituted 
 religion of the Jews also, (as is largely discoursed, 2 Cor. iii., 
 and more largely through the epistle to the Galatians, espe- 
 cially chap. iv. ;) and whereas we find, that in the Jewish 
 chiu'ch the Holy Ghost did generally difiiise its influences, 
 
 1 Neh. ix. 20. ^ Prov. i. 2,3—26. '^ Isa. Ixiii. 10. 
 
 '' Acts vii. 51. » den. vi. 3.
 
 aat;pt over lost soi'ls. 297 
 
 and not otherwise witliliold them than penally find upon 
 great provocation ; how much more may it be concluded, that 
 under the gospel the same blessed Spirit is very generally at 
 work upon the souls of men, till, by their resisting, grieving, 
 and quenching of it, they provoke it to retire and withdraw 
 from them ! 
 
 And let the consciences of men living under the gospel 
 testify in the case. Appeal, sinner, to thine own conscience. 
 Hast thou never felt anything of conviction by the word of 
 God ? Hadst thou never any thought injected of turning to 
 God, of reforming thy life, of making thy peace ? Have no 
 desires ever been raised in thee, no fears ? Hast thou never 
 had any tastes and relishes of pleasure in the things of God ? 
 Whence have these come ? What ! from thyself, who art 
 not sufficient to think anything as of thyself, — that is, not 
 any good or right thought ? All must be from that good 
 Spirit that hath been striving with thee, and might still have 
 been so unto a blessed issue for thy soul, if thou hadst not 
 neglected and disobeyed it. 
 
 And do not go about to excuse thyself by sa5dng, that so 
 all others have done too, (it is like,) at one time or other ; 
 and if that, therefore, be the rule and measure, that they 
 that contend against the strivings and motions of God's 
 Spirit must be finally deserted and given up to perish, who 
 then can be saved ? Think not of pleading so for thy 
 neglecting and despising the grace and Spirit of God. It is 
 true that herein the great God shows his sovereignty : when 
 all that enjoy the same advantages for salvation deserve, by 
 their slighting them, to be forsaken alike, he gives instances 
 and makes examples of just severity and of the victorious 
 power of grace, as seems him good; which there will be 
 further occasion to speak more of hereafter. In the mean- 
 time, the present design is not to justify thy condemnation, 
 but preclude thy salvation, and therefore to admonish and 
 instruct thee, that, though thou art not sure, because some 
 others that have slighted and despised the grace and Spirit 
 of God are notwithstanding conquered and saved thereby, it 
 
 o3
 
 298 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 shall therefore fare as well with thee ; yet thou hast reason 
 to be confident it will be well and happy for thee, if now thou 
 despise and slight them not. And whether thou do or do 
 not, it is, however, plain that by tliy being under the gospel 
 thou hast had a day wherein to mind the things of thy peace, 
 though it is not told thee it would last always ; but the 
 contrary is presently to be told thee. 
 
 And thou mayst now see it is not only a day in respect of 
 light, but influence also ; that thou mightst not only know 
 notionally what belonged thereto, but efficaciously and prac- 
 tically, — which you have heard is the knowledge here meant. 
 And the concurrence of such light and influence has made 
 thee a season wherein thou wast to have been at work for thy 
 soul. The day is the proj)er season for work ; when the 
 night comes, working ceases, both because that then light fails 
 and because drowsiness and sloth are more apt to possess 
 men. And the night will come ; for — which is the next 
 thing we are to speak to, — 
 
 III. This day hath its hounds and limits; so that when it is 
 over and lost with such, " the things of their peace are for 
 ever hid from their eyes." And that this day is not infinite 
 and endless, we see in the present instance. Jerusalem had 
 her day ; but that day had its period : we see it comes to this 
 at last, that noio the tilings of her peace are hid from her 
 eyes. We generally see the same thing in that sinners are 
 so earnestly pressed to make use of the present time : " To- 
 da}', if ye will hear his voice, harden not your heart ; " ^ — 
 quoted and urged, Heb. iii. 7, 8. They are admonished to 
 " seek the Lord while he may be foiuid," to " call upon him 
 while he is near."^ It seems, some time he will not be 
 found, and will be afar off. They are told, " Now is the 
 accepted time, now is the day of salvation. "^ 
 
 This day, with any place or people, supposes a precedent 
 night, when the day-spring from on high had not visited 
 their horizon, and all within it sat in darlaiess and in the 
 
 1 Ps. xcv. 7, 8. - Isa. Iv. 6. ^ jga. xlix. 8 ; 2 Cor. vi. 2.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 299 
 
 region and shadow of death. Yea, and there was a time, we 
 know, of very general darkness, when the gospel-day, the 
 day of visitation, had not yet dawned upon the world ; 
 "times of ignorance," wherein God, as it were, "winked" 
 upon the nations of the earth ; — the beams of his eye did, in 
 a sort, overshoot them, as the word virepLbcov imports. But 
 when the eyelids of the morning open upon any people and 
 light shines to them with direct beams, they are " note com- 
 manded to repent ; "^ — limited to the present point of time, 
 with such peremptoriness as that noble Roman used towards 
 a proud prince, asking time to deliberate upon the i)roposal 
 made to him of withdrawing his forces that molested some of 
 the allies of that state ; he draws a line about him with the 
 end of his rod, and requires him now, out of hand, before he 
 stirred out of that circle, to make his choice, whether he 
 would be a friend or enemy to the people of Rome. So are 
 sinners to understand the state of their own case. The God 
 of thy life, sinner, in whose hands thy times are, doth, with 
 much higher right, limit thee to the present time and 
 expects thy present answer to his just and merciful offers and 
 Remands. He circumscribes thy day of grace ; it is enclosed 
 on both parts and hath an evening as well as morning ; as 
 it had a foregoing so it hath a subsequent night ; and the 
 latter, if not more dark, yet usually much more stormy than 
 the former : for God shuts up this day in much displeasure, — 
 which hath terrible effects. If it be not expressly told you 
 what the condition of that night is that follows your gospel 
 day ; if the watchman, being asked, "What of the night ? " 
 do only answer, " It cometh as well as the morning came ; " 
 black events are signified by that more awful silence. Or it 
 is all one if you call it a day ; there is enough to distinguish 
 it from the dap of grace. The Scriptures call such a cala- 
 mitous season indifferently either by the name of night or 
 day ; but the latter name is used with some or other adjunct, 
 to signify " day " is not meant in the pleasant or more 
 grateful sense ; — a " day of wrath," an " evil day," " a day 
 1 Acts xvii. 30.
 
 '^500 THE redeemer's TEARS 
 
 of gloominess and thick darkness," not differing from the 
 most dismal night ; and to be told the morning of such a day 
 is coming, is all one as that the evening is coming of a bright 
 and a serene day. 
 
 And here, perhaps, reader, thou wilt expect to be told 
 what are the limits of this day of grace. It is indeed much 
 more difficult punctually to assign those limits, than to 
 ascertain thee there are such ; but it is also less necessary. 
 The wise and merciful God doth, in matters of this nature, 
 little mind to gratify our curiosity ; much less is it to be 
 expectecL from him that he shoidd make known to us such 
 things whereof it were better we were ignorant or the 
 knowledge whereof would be much more a prejudice to us 
 than an advantage. And it were as bold and rash an under- 
 taking in this case, as it would be vain and insignificant, for 
 any man to take upon him to say in it what God hath not 
 said, or given him plain ground for. What I conceive to 
 be plain and useful in this matter I shall lay down in the 
 folloAving propositions, insisting more largely where the 
 matter requires it, and contenting myself but to mention 
 what is obvious and clear at the first sight : — 
 
 1. That there is a great difference between the ends and 
 limits of the day or season of grace as to particular persons, 
 and in reference to the collective body of a people inhabiting 
 this or that place. It may be over with such or such a 
 place, so as that they that dwell there shall no longer have 
 the gospel among them, when as yet it may not be over with 
 every particular person belonging to it, who may be provi- 
 dentially cast elsewhere, or may have the " ingrafted word " 
 in them, which ihej lose not. And again ; it may be over 
 with some particular persons in such a place, when it is not 
 yet over with that people or place generally considered. 
 
 2. As to both, there is a difference between the ending of 
 such a day, and intermissions or darh intervals, that may be in 
 it. The gospel may be withdrawn from such a people and 
 be restored. And God often, no doubt, as to particular 
 persons, either deprives them of the outward means of grace
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOl'LS. 301 
 
 for a time by sickness or many other "vrays, or may for a time 
 forbear moving upon them by his Spirit, and again try them 
 with both. 
 
 3. As to particular persons, there may be much difference 
 between such as while they lived under the gospel gained the 
 hwicledge of the principal doctrines, or of the sum or sub- 
 stance of Christianity, though without any sanctifying effect 
 or impression upon their hearts ; and such as through their 
 oioi. negligence lived under it in total ignorance hereof. The 
 day of grace may not be over with the former, though they 
 shoidd never live under the ministry of the gospel more. 
 For it is possible, while they have the seeds and principles 
 of holy truth laid up in their minds, God may graciously 
 administer to them many occasions of recollecting and con- 
 sidering them, wherewith he may so please to co-operate as 
 to enliven them and make them vital and effectual to their 
 final salvation. Whereas, with the other sort, when they 
 no more enjoy the external means, the day of grace is like to 
 be quite over, so as that there may be no more hope in their 
 case than in that of Pagans in the darkest parts of the 
 world; and perhaps much less, as their guilt hath been 
 much greater by their neglect of so great and important 
 things. It may be " better with Tyre and Sidon," etc. 
 
 4. That yet it is a terrible judgment to the most hnowing, 
 to lose the external dispensation of the gospel while they 
 have yet no sanctifying impression upon their hearts by it ; 
 and they are cast upon a fearful hazard of being lost for 
 ever, being left by the departed gospel in an unconverted 
 state. For they need the most, urgent inculcations of gospel 
 truths, and the most powerful enforcing means, to engage 
 them to consider the things which they know. It is the 
 design of the gospel to beget not only light in the mind, but 
 grace in the heart ; and if that were not done while they 
 enjoyed such means, it is less likely to be done without them. 
 And if ?a\j slighter and more superficial impressions were 
 made upon them thereby, short of true and thorough con- 
 version, how great is the danger that all will vanish when
 
 302 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 they cease to be pressed, and urged, and called upon by the 
 public voice of the gospel ministry any more ! How naturally 
 desident is the spirit of man, and apt to sink into deadness, 
 worldKness, and carnality, even under the most lively and 
 quickening means and even where a saving work hath been 
 wrought ; how much more when those means fail, and there 
 is no vital principle within capable of self-excitation and 
 improvement ! that they would consider this, who have 
 got nothing by the gospel all this while but a little cold, 
 spiritless, notional knowledge, and are in a possibility of 
 losing it before they get anything more ! 
 
 6. That as it is certain death ends the day of grace with 
 every unconverted person, so it is very possible it may end 
 with divers before they die ; by their total loss of all external 
 means, or by the departure of the blessed Spirit of God from 
 them so as to return and visit them no more. How the day 
 of grace may end with a person, is to be understood by 
 considering what it is that makes up and constitutes such a 
 day. There must be some measure and proportion of time 
 to make up this, or any day, which is as the substratum 
 and ground forelaid. Then there must be light superadded, 
 otherwise it differs not from night, which may have the 
 same measure of mere time. The gospel- revelation, some 
 way or other, must be had, as being the light of such a day. 
 And again, there must be some degree of liveliness and vital 
 influence, the more usual concomitant of light ; the night 
 doth more dispose men to drowsiness. The same sun that 
 enhghtens the world disseminates also an invigorating in- 
 fluence. If the Spirit of the Kving God do no way animate 
 the gospel- revelation and breathe in it, we have no day of 
 grace. It is not only a day of light, but a day of power, 
 wherein souls can be wi'ought upon and a people made 
 willing to become the Lord's.^ As the Redeemer revealed 
 in the gospel is the " light of the world," so he is "life " to it 
 too ; though neither are planted or do take root everywhere : 
 " In him was life, and that life was the light of men." That 
 
 1 Ps. ex. ,s.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 303 
 
 light that rays from him is vital light in itself and in its 
 tendency and design, thovigh it be disliked and not entertained 
 by the most. 
 
 ^\Tiereas, therefore, these things must concur to make wp 
 such a day, if either a man's time — his life on earth — expire, 
 or if light qmte fail him, or if all gracious influence be with- 
 held, so as to be comnnmicated no more, — his day is done, 
 the season of grace is over with him. Now it is plain that 
 many a one may lose the gospel before his life end ; and 
 possible that all gracious influence may be restrained, while 
 as yet the external dispensation of the gospel remains. A 
 sinner may have hardened his heart to that degree that God 
 will attempt him no more in any kind, with any design of 
 kindness to him ; not in that more inward, immediate way 
 at all, that is, by the motions of his Spirit, which peculiarly 
 can import nothing but friendly inclination, as whereby men 
 are personaUy applied unto so that another cannot be meant ; 
 nor by the voice of the gospel, which may either be con- 
 tinued for the sake of others, or they continued under it 
 but for their heavier doom at length ; which, though it may 
 seem severe, is not to be thought strange, much less un- 
 righteous. 
 
 It is not to be thought strange to them that read the 
 Bible, which so often speaks this sense, as when it warns and 
 threatens men with so much terror : " For if we sin wil- 
 fully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, 
 there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain 
 fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which 
 shall devour the adversaries. He that despised Moses' law 
 died without mercy under two or three witnesses ; of how 
 much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought 
 worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Sou of God, and 
 hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewitli he was 
 sanctified, an mihol}^ thing, and hath done despite unto the 
 Spirit of grace V^ And when it tells us, after many over- 
 tures made to men in vain, of his having given them up, etc. : 
 ^ Heb. X. 26—29.
 
 304 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 " But my people "would not hearken to my voice ; and Israel 
 woidd none of me : so I gave tliem up unto their own hearts' 
 lust; and they walked in their own counsels;"^ and pro- 
 nounces, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he 
 which is filthy, let him be filthy still;"- and says, "In thy 
 filthiness is lewdness ; because I have purged thee, and thou 
 wast not purged, thou shalt not be purged from thy filthi- 
 ness any more, till I have caused my fury to rest upon 
 thee;"^ — which passages seem to imply a total desertion of 
 them, and retraction of all gracious influence ; — and when it 
 speaks of letting them be under the gospel, and the ordinary 
 means of salvation, for the most direful purposes ; as that, 
 "This child" (Jesus) "was set for the fall," as well as "for 
 the rising, of many in Israel."* As to which text the very 
 learned Grotius, glossing upon the words, ^ says, that ' he is 
 of their opinion who think that not the naked event, but the 
 counsel or purpose of God, is signified by it,'^ — the same with 
 TiOeTai: and alleges several texts where the active of that 
 verb must have the same sense as to appoint or ordain ; and 
 mentions divers other places of the same import mth this so 
 understood, and which, therefore, to recite will equally serve 
 our present purpose ; as that, " Behold, I lay in Sion a 
 stumbling-stone and rock of offence ; " ^ and, " The stone which 
 the builders refused, is made a . . . stone of stumbling, and a 
 rock of offence, even to them which stumble at the word, being 
 disobedient; wheremito also they were appointed;"^ with 
 that of our Saviour himself, " For judgment I am come into 
 this world ; that they which see not might see ; and that they 
 which see might be made blind ;"^ and most agreeable to 
 those former places is that of the prophet, "But the word of 
 the Lord was unto them precept upon precept, precept upon 
 precept ; line upon line, Kne upon Kne ; here a little, and 
 there a little ; that they might go, and faU backward, and be 
 
 1 Ps. Ixxxi. 11, 12. - Eev. xxii. 11. » Ezek. xxiv. 13. 
 
 * Luke ii. 34. = Keirai and tis tttuxtIv. 
 
 fi ' Accedo lis qui non nudum eventura, sed et consiliiun,' etc. 
 7 Rom. ix. 33. » 1 Pet. ii. 7, 8. ^ Jobu ix. 39.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 305 
 
 broken, and snared, and taken," ^ And we may add, tliat our 
 Lord hath put us out of doubt that there is such a sin as 
 that which is eminently called "the sin against the Holy 
 Ghost ;" — that a man may, in such circumstances and to such 
 a degree, sin against that blessed Spirit, that he will never 
 move or breathe upon them more, but leave them to a 
 hopeless ruin ; — thovigh I shall not, in this discourse, deter- 
 mine or discuss the nature of it. But I doubt not it is 
 somewhat else than f)Kd impenifcjin/ (aid infidelit'i/ ; and that 
 every one that dies, not having sincerely repented and be- 
 lieved, is not guilty of it, — though ever}^ one that is guilty 
 of it dies impenitent and unbelieving ; but was guilty of it 
 before, so as it is not the mere want of time that makes him 
 guilty. Whereupon, therefore, that such may outlive their 
 day of grace, is out of question. 
 
 But let not such as, upon the descriptions the gospel gives 
 us of that sin, may be justly confident they have not perhaps 
 committed it, therefore think themselves out of danger of 
 losing their season of making their peace with God before 
 they die. Many a one ma//, no doubt, that never committed 
 the unpardonable blasphemy against the Holy Ghost as he 
 is the witness, by his wonderfid works, of Christ being the 
 Messiah ; as one may die by neglecting himself, that doth 
 not poison himself or cut his own throat. You will say, 
 * But if the Spirit retire from men, so as never to return, 
 where is the difference ? ' I answer. The difference lies in 
 the specific nature and greater heinousness of that sin, and 
 consequently in the deeper degrees of its punishment. For 
 though the reason of its unpardonableness lies not princi- 
 pally in its greater heinousness, but in its direct repugnancy 
 to the way of obtaining pardon, yet there is no doubt of its 
 being much more heinous than many other sins for which 
 men perish ; and, therefore, it is in proportion more severely 
 punished. But is it not misery enough to dwell in darkness 
 and woe for ever, as every one that dies unreconciled to God 
 
 ^ Isa. xxviii. 13.
 
 306 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 must do, unless the most intense flames and horror of hell be 
 your portion ? as his case is sufficiently bad that must die as 
 an ordinary felon, though he is not to be hanged, drawn, 
 and quartered. 
 
 Nor is there any place or pretence for so profane a thought, 
 as if there were any colour of unrighteousness in this course 
 of procedure with such men. Is it unjust severity to let the 
 gospel become deadly to them, whose malignity perverts 
 it against its nature and genuine tendency, into " a savour of 
 death," as 2 Cor. ii. 16, which it is "to them that perish,"^ 
 — that is, to them, as the mentioned author speaks, who may 
 be tridy said to seek their own destruction ? or that God 
 should intend theii' more aggravated condemnation, even from 
 the despised gospel itself, who, when such light is come into 
 the world, hate it, show themselves (as he also phrases it, 
 speaking further upon that first mentioned text), — such as fly 
 from the light, choose and love to lurk in darkness ?^ He must 
 have very low thoughts of Divine favour, and acceptance of 
 Christ and grace and glory, that can have hard thoughts of 
 God, for his vindicating with greatest severity the contempt 
 of such things. What could better become his glorious 
 majesty and excellent greatness, than, as " all things work 
 together for good towards them that love him," so to let all 
 things work for the hurt of them that so irreconcilably hate 
 him and bear a disaffected and implacable mind towards him ? 
 Nor doth the addition of his designing the matter so, make it 
 hard. For if it be just to punish such wickedness, is it unjust 
 to intend to punish it ? and to intend to punish it according 
 to its desert, when it cannot be thought unjust actually to 
 render to men what they deserve ? 
 
 We are, indeed, to account the primary intention of conti- 
 nuing the gospel to such a people, among whom these live, is 
 kindness towards others, not this higher revenge upon them ; 
 yet nothing hinders but that this revenge upon them may 
 also be the fit matteij of his secondary intention. For should 
 he intend nothmg concerning them ? Is he to be so uncon- 
 
 1 ToTs dnoWvfievois. - " Lucifugffi, tenebvioues."
 
 "WTIPT OVER LOST SOULS, 307 
 
 cerned about his own creatures, that are under his govern- 
 ment ? "NYliile things cannot fall out to him unawai'es, but 
 that he hath this dismal event in prospect before him, he 
 must at least intend to let it be, or not to hinder it. And 
 who can expect he should ? For that his gracious influence 
 towards them should at length cease, is above all exception ; 
 that it ceasing, while they live still under the gospel, they 
 contract deeper guilt and incur heavier punishment, follows 
 of course. And who could say he should not intend to let it 
 follow ? For should he take away the gospel from the rest, 
 that these might be less punished ? that others might not be 
 saved, because they will not ? 
 
 Nor can he be obliged to interpose extraordinarily and 
 alter for their sakes the course of nature and providence, so 
 as either to hasten them the sooner out of the world, or cast 
 them into any other part of it where the gospel is not, lest 
 they should, by living still under it, be obnoxious to the 
 severer punishment. For whither would this lead? He 
 should, by equal reason, have been obliged to prevent men's 
 sinning at all, that they might not be liable to any punish- 
 ment ; and so not to have made the world, or have otherwise 
 framed the methods of his government, and less suitably to a 
 whole community of reasonable creatures : or to have made 
 an end of the world long ago and have quitted all his great 
 designs in it, lest some should sin on and incur proportion- 
 able punishment : or to have pro\dded extraordinarily that 
 all should do and fare alike ; and that it might never have 
 come to pass that it should be less tolerable for Capernaum 
 and Chorazin and Bethsaida, than for Tyre and Sidon, and 
 Sodom and Gomorrah. " But is there unrighteousness with 
 God ? " or is he " unrighteous in taking vengeance ? " or is 
 he therefore unjust, because he " will render to every one 
 according to his deeds ; to them who by patient continuance 
 in well-doing seek for glory and honour and immortality, 
 eternal life : but 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
 
 308 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 doeth evil, of the Jew first, and also of the Gentile ? " ^ 
 Doth righteousness itself make him luirighteous ? sinner, 
 understand how much better it is to avoid the stroke of 
 Divine justice than accuse it ! God will be found true, and 
 every man a liar, that he may be "justified when he speaks 
 and be clear when he judges."^ 
 
 6. Yet are we not to imagine any certain -fixed rule, ac- 
 cording whereto (except in the case of the unpardonable sin) 
 the Divine dispensation is measured in cases of this nature ; 
 namely, that when a sinner hath contended just so long or to 
 such a degree against his grace and Spirit in his gospel, he 
 shall be finally rejected ; or if but so long or not to such a 
 degree, he is yet certainly to be further tried or treated with. 
 It is little to be doubted but he puts forth the power of 
 victorious grace at length upon some more obstinate and 
 obdurate sinners, and that have longer persisted in their re- 
 belKons (not having sinned the impardonable sin), and gives 
 over some sooner, as it seems good unto him. Nor doth he 
 herein owe an account to any man of his matters. Here 
 sovereign good pleasure rules and arbitrates, that is tied to no 
 certain rule. Neither, in these variations, is there any show 
 of that blamable TrpoaoiTToX-q^La or " accepting of persons," 
 which in his own word he so expressly disclaims. We must 
 distinguish matters of right, (even such as are so by promise 
 only, as well as others,) and matters of mere nnpromised 
 favour. In matters of right, to be an accepter of persons, is 
 a thing most highly culpable with men and which can have 
 no place with the holy God ; that is, when a human judge 
 hath his rule before him, according whereto he is to estimate 
 men's rights in judgment, there to regard the person of the 
 rich or of the poor to the prejudice of the justice of the cause, 
 were an insufferable iniquity ; as it were also in a private 
 person to withhold another's right because he hath no kind- 
 ness for him. So even the great God himself, though of mere 
 grace he first fixed and established the rule — fitly therefore 
 called the covenant or law of grace — by which he will proceed 
 in pardoning and justifying men or in condemning and holding 
 1 Eom. ii. 6—9. ^ Ps. li. 4.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 309 
 
 them guilty, botli here and in the final judgment ; yet having 
 fixed it, he will never recede from it, so as either to acquit 
 an impenitent unbeliever or condemn a believing penitent : 
 " If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive." 
 !None shall be ever able to accuse him of breach of faith or of 
 transgressing his own rules of justice. AVe find it, therefore, 
 said in reference to the judgment of the last day, when God 
 shall " render to every man according to his works," whether 
 they be Jews or Gentiles, that " there is no respect of persons 
 with God;"^ yet whereas he hath, by his evangelical law, 
 ascertained pardon to one that sincerely obeys it, but hath 
 not promised grace to enable them to do so,~ — to them that 
 have long continued wilfully disobedient and rebellious, this 
 commimication of grace is therefore left arbitrar}^, and to be 
 dispensed as the matter of free and unassured favour, as it 
 seems him good. And indeed, if in matters of arbitrary 
 favour respect of persons ought to have no place, friendship 
 were quite excluded the world and would be swallowed up 
 of strict and rigid justice ; I ought to take all men for my 
 friends alike, otherwise than as justice should oblige me to be 
 more respectful to men of more merit. 
 
 7. Wherefore no man can certainly know or ought to conclude, 
 concerning himself or others, as long as they live, that the season 
 of grace is quite over with them. As we can conceive no rule 
 God hath set to himself to proceed by in ordinary cases of 
 this nature, so nor is there any he hath set us to judge by 
 in this case. It Avere to no purpose and could be of no use to 
 men, to know so much ; therefore it were unreasonable to 
 expect God should have settled and declared any ride by 
 which they might come by the knowledge of it. As the 
 case is then, — namely, there being no such rule, — no such 
 thing can be concluded ; for who can tell what an arbitrary, 
 sovereign, free agent will do, if he declare not his own pur- 
 pose himself? How shoidd it be known, when the Spirit of 
 God hath been often working iipon the soid of a man, that 
 this or that shall be the last act and that he will never put 
 
 1 Rom. ii. 6—11. 
 
 * ' ' Qui promisit pceniteiiti veuiarn, non proniisit peccauti pceuiteutiiun. "
 
 310 THE KEDEEMEll's TEARS 
 
 fortli anotlier ? And why should God make it known ? To 
 the person himself whose case it is, it is manifest it could be 
 no benefit. Nor is it to be thought the holy God will ever so 
 alter the course of his own proceedings, but that it shall 
 finally be seen to all the world that every man's destruction 
 was, entirely and to the last, of himself. If God had made 
 it evident to a man that he were finally rejected, he were 
 obliged to believe it. But shall it ever be said God hath 
 made anything a man's duty which were inconsistent with 
 his felicity ? The having sinned himself into such a condi- 
 tion wherein he is forsaken of God, is indeed inconsistent 
 with it ; and so the case is to stand, — that is, that his 
 perdition be in immediate connection with his sin, not with 
 his duty ; as it would be in immediate, necessary connection 
 with his duty, if he were bound to believe himself finally 
 forsaken, and a lost creature. For that belief makes him 
 hopeless, and a very devil ; justifies his imbelief of the gospel 
 towards himself, by removing and shutting up towards him 
 the object of such a faith ; and consequently brings the 
 matter to this state, that he perishes, not because he does not 
 believe God reconcilable to man, but because, with particular 
 application to himself, he ought not so to believe} 
 
 And it were most unfit, and of very pernicious consequence, 
 that such a thing should be generally known concerning 
 others. It were to anticipate the final judgment, to create a 
 hell upon earth, to tempt them, whose doom were already 
 known, to do all the mischief in the world which malice and 
 despair can suggest and prompt them unto ; it were to mingle 
 devils with men and fill the world with confusion ! Hoav 
 should parents know how to behave themselves towards chil- 
 dren, a husband towards the wife of his bosom, in such a case, 
 if it were known they were no more to counsel, exhort, ad- 
 monish them, pray with or for them than if they were devils ? 
 
 And if there were such a rule, how frequent misapplications 
 would the fallible and distempered minds of men make of it ! 
 So that they would be apt to fancy themselves warranted 
 
 ' See more to this purpose iu the Appendix.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 811 
 
 to judge severely or uncharitably, and, as the truth of the 
 case perhaps is, unjustly, concerning others, — from which 
 they are so hardly withheld when they have no such pre- 
 tence to embolden them to it, but are so strictly forbidden it ; 
 and the judgment- seat so fenced, as it is, by the most awful 
 interdicts against their usurpation and encroachments. We 
 are, therefore, to reverence the wisdom of the Divine govern- 
 ment, that things of this nature are among the arcana of it, — 
 some of those secrets " which belong not to us." He hath 
 '* revealed " what was fit and necessary " for us and oiu" 
 children," and envies to man no useful knowledge. 
 
 But it may be said, when the apostle directs to " pray for 
 a brother whom we see sinning a sin that is not unto death," ^ 
 and adds, " There is a sin unto death : I do not say he shall 
 pray for it," ' Is it not implied that it may be knowTi when one 
 sins that sin unto death, not only to himself, but even to others 
 too ? ' I answer, It is implied there may be too probable 
 appearances of it and much ground to suspect and fear it con- 
 cerning some, in some cases : as when any, against the highest 
 evidence of the truth of the Christian religion, and that Jesus 
 is the Christ or the Messiah, (the proper and most sufficiently 
 credible testimony whereof he had mentioned in the foregoing 
 verses, under heads to which the whole evidence of the truth 
 of Christianity may be fitly enough reduced,) do, notwith- 
 standing, from that malice which blinds their understanding, 
 persist in infidelity, or apostatize and relapse into it from a 
 former profession, — there is great cause of suspicion lest such 
 have sinned that sin imto death. Whereupon jet it is to be 
 observed, he doth not expressly forbid praying for the 
 persons whose case we may doubt, only he doth not enjoin it, 
 as he doth for others, but only says, " I do not say he shall 
 pray for it ;" — that is, that in his present direction to pray 
 for others, he did not intend such ; but another sort for 
 whom they might pray remotely from any such suspicion : 
 namely, that he meant noiv such praying as ought to be in- 
 terchanged between Christian friends, that ha^'e reason in the 
 1 1 John V. 16.
 
 312 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 main to be well persuaded concerning one anotlier ; in the 
 meantime intending no opposition to what is elsewhere 
 enjoined, — the praying for "all men,"^ without the personal 
 exclusion of any : as also our Lord himself prayed indefinitely 
 for his most malicious enemies, " Father, forgive them ; they 
 know not what they do." Though he had formerly said 
 there was such a sin as should never be forgiven, whereof it 
 is highly probable some of them were guilty, yet such he 
 doth not expressly except ; but his prayer being in the 
 indefinite, not the universal form, it is to be supposed it must 
 mean such as tvere within the compass and reach of prayer, and 
 capable of benefit by it. Nor doth the apostle here direct 
 personally to exclude any, only that indefinitely and in the 
 general such must be supposed not meant as had sinned the 
 sin unto death ; or must be conditionally excluded if they 
 had, without determining who had or had not. To which 
 purpose it is very observable, that a more abstract form of 
 expression is used in this latter clause of this verse : for 
 M^hereas in the former, positive part of the direction, he 
 enjoins praying for him or them that had not sinned unto 
 death, namely, concerning whom there was no ground for 
 any such imagination or suspicion that they had; in the 
 negative part, concerning such as might have sinned it, he 
 doth not saj^ " for him " or " them," but "for it," — that is, 
 concerning, in reference to it ; as if he had said, ' The case 
 in general only is to be excepted ; and if persons are to be 
 distinguished, — since every sin is some one's sin, the sin of 
 some person or other, — let God distinguish, bvit do not you ; 
 it is enough for you to except the sin, committed by whom- 
 soever.* And though the former part of the verse speaks of 
 a particular person, — " If a man see his brother sin a sin 
 that is not unto death," which is as determinate to a person 
 as the sight of our eye can be, — it doth not follow the latter 
 part must suppose a like particular determination of any 
 person's case, that he hath sinned it. I may have great 
 reason to be confident such and such have not, when I 'can 
 1 1 Tim. ii. 1.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOTJLS. 313 
 
 only suspect that such a one hath. And it is a thing much 
 less unlikely to be certain to one's self than another ; for they 
 that have sinned nnto death are no doubt so blinded and 
 stupified by it, that they are not more apt or competent 
 to 'observe themselves and consider their case than others 
 may be. 
 
 8. But though none ought to conclude that their day or 
 season of grace is quite expired, yet ihcy ought deeply to 
 apprehend the danger lest it should exp)ire before their necessary 
 work be done and their peace made : for though it can be of 
 no use to them to know the former, and therefore they have 
 no means appointed them by which to know it, it is of great 
 use to apprehend the latter, and they have sufficient ground 
 for the apprehension. All the cautions and warnings where- 
 with the Holy Scripture abounds, of the kind mth those 
 already mentioned, have that manifest design. And nothing 
 can be more important, or apposite to this purpose, than that 
 solemn charge of the great apostle, "Work out your own 
 salvation with fear and trembling;"^ considered together 
 with the subjoined ground of it, " For it is God that 
 worketh in you both to will and to do of his own good 
 pleasure." ^ How correspondent is the one with the other ! 
 Work, for he ivories. There were no working at all to any 
 purpose or with any hope, if he did not work : and work with 
 fear and trembling, for he works of his oum good pleasure: as 
 much as to say, it were the greatest folly imaginable to trifle 
 with one that works at so perfect liberty, under no obligation, 
 that may desist when he will ; to impose upon so absolutely 
 sovereign and arbitrary an agent, that owes you nothing ; and 
 from whose former gracious operations, not complied with, 
 you can draw no argument mito any following ones, — that 
 because he doth, therefore he will. As there is no certain 
 connection between present time and future, but all time is 
 made up of imdepending, not strictly coherent, moments, so 
 as no man can be sure because one now exists, another shall ; 
 there is also no more certain connection between the arbi- 
 1 PliU. ii. 12. 2 Ver. 13. 
 
 VOL. II. P
 
 314 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 trary acts of a free agent within sucli time ; so that I cannot 
 be sure, because lie now darts in light upon me, is now con- 
 vincing me, now awakening me, therefore he will still do so 
 again and again. Upon this ground then, what exhortation 
 could be more proper than this, " Work out your own salvation 
 with fear and trembling ? " What could be more awfully 
 monitory and enforcing of it, than that he works only of 
 mere good- will and pleasure ? How should I tremble to 
 think, ' If I should be negligent or undutiful, he may give 
 out the next moment, and let the work fall and me perish ! ' 
 And there is more especial cause for such an apprehension, 
 upon the concurrence of such things as these : — 
 
 (1.) If the workings of God's Spirit upon the soul of a 
 man have been more than ordinarily strong and urgent, and 
 do now cease ; if there have been more powerful conductions, 
 deeper humiliations, more awakened fears, more formed pur- 
 poses of a new life, more fervent desires, that are now all 
 vanished and fled, and the sinner is returned to his old dead 
 and didl temper : 
 
 (2.) If there be no disposition to reflect and consider the 
 difierence, no sense of his loss ; but he apprehends such 
 workings of spirit in him unnecessary troubles to him, and 
 thinks it well he is delivered and eased of them : 
 
 (3.) If in the time when he was under such workings of 
 spirit, he had made known his case to his minister or any 
 godly friend, whose company he now shims, as not willing to 
 be put in mind or hear any more of such matters : 
 
 (4.) If hereupon he hath more indulged sensual inclina- 
 tion, taken more liberty, gone against the checks of his own 
 conscience, broken former good resolutions, involved himself 
 in the guilt of any grosser sins : 
 
 (5.) If conscience, so bafiled, be now silent, lets him alone, 
 grows more sluggish and weaker ; which it must, as his lusts 
 grow stronger : 
 
 (6.) If the same lively, powerful ministry, which before 
 affected him much, now moves him not : 
 
 (7.) If, especially, he is grown into a dislike of such
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 315 
 
 preaching ; if serious godliness and what tends to it are 
 become distasteful to hiin ; if discourses of God and Christ, of 
 death and judgment, and of a holy life, are reckoned super- 
 fluous and needless, are unsavoury and disrelished ; if he 
 have learned to put disgraceful names upon things of this 
 import and the persons that most value them and live 
 accordingly ; if he hath taken "the seat of the scorner," and 
 makes it his business to deride what he had once a reverence 
 for or took some complacency in : 
 
 (8.) If, upon all this, God withdraw such a ministry, so 
 that he is now warned and admonished, exhorted and striven 
 with as formerly, no more, — the fearful danger of that 
 man's case ! Hath he no cause to fear lest the things of his 
 peace should be for ever hid from his eyes ? Surely he hath 
 much cause of fear, but not of despair. Fear would in this 
 case be his great duty and might yet prove the means of 
 saving him; despair would be his very heinous and de- 
 stroying sin. If yet he would be stirred up to consider his 
 case, whence he is fallen and whither he is falling, and set 
 himself to serious seeking of God, cast down himself before 
 him, abase himself, cry for mercy as for his life, there is yet 
 hope in his case ; God may make here an instance what he 
 can obtain of himself to do for a perishing wretch ! But, — 
 
 IV. If with any that have lived binder the gosjjel, their day is 
 quite expired, and the things of their peace now for ever hid 
 from their eyes, this is in itself a most deplorable case, and much- 
 lamented hy our Lord Jesus himself. — That the case is in itself 
 most deplorable, who sees not ? A soul lost ! A creature 
 capable of God, upon its way to him, near to the kingdom of 
 God — shipwrecked in the port ! sinner, from how high a 
 hope art thou fallen ; into what depths of misery and woe I 
 
 And that it was lamented by our Lord, is in the text. He 
 " beheld the city," — very generally, we have reason to appre- 
 hend, inhabited by such wretched creatures, — " and Avept over 
 it." This was a veiy aflectionate lamentation. We lament 
 often, very heartily, Inany a sad case, for which we do not 
 shed tears. But tears, — such tears, — falling from such eves, 
 
 p 2
 
 316 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 — the issues of the purest and best- governed passion that 
 ever was, — showed the true greatness of the cause. Here could 
 be no exorbitancy or unjust excess, nothing more than was 
 proportionable to the occasion. There needs no other proof 
 that this is a sad case, than that our Lord lamented it with 
 tears ; which that he did we are plainly told, so that touching 
 that there is no place for doubt. All that is liable to question 
 is, whether we are to conceive in him any like resentments of 
 such cases in his present glorified state ? 
 
 Indeed we cannot think heaven a place or state of sadness 
 or lamentation ; and must take heed of conceiving anything 
 there, esi^ecially on the throne of glory, unsuitable to the rr.ost 
 perfect nature and the most glorious state. We are not to 
 imagine tears there, which in that happy region are wiped 
 away from inferior eyes ; no grief, sorrow, or sighing, which 
 are all fled away and shall be no more, as there can be no 
 other turbid passion of any kind. But when expressions 
 that import anger or grief are used, even concerning God 
 himself, we must sever in our conception everything of 
 imperfection and ascribe everything of real perfection. We 
 are not to think such expressions signify nothing ; that they 
 have no meaning or that nothing at all is to be attributed to 
 him under them. 
 
 Nor are we, again, to think they signify the same thing 
 with what we find in ourselves and are wont to express by 
 those names. In the Divine nature, there may be real and 
 yet most serene complacency and displacency, — namely, that 
 are unaccompanied with the least commotion, and import 
 nothing of imperfection, but perfection rather ; as it is a 
 perfection to apprehend things suitably to wliat in themselves 
 they are. The Holy Scriptures frequently speak of God as 
 angry and grieved for the sins of men, and their miseries 
 which ensue therefrom ; and a real aversion and dislike is 
 signified thereby, and by many other expressions which in 
 us would signify vehement agitations of afiection that we 
 are sure can have no place in him. We ought, therefore, in 
 our own thoughts, to ascribe to him that calm aversion of
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 317 
 
 will in reference to the sins and miseries of men in general ; 
 and in our own apprehensions to remove to the utmost 
 distance from him all such agitations of passion or affection ; 
 even though some expressions that occur carry a great 
 appearance thereof, should they be understood according to 
 human measures, as they are human forms of speech : as, 
 — to instance in what is said by the glorious God himself, and 
 very near in sense to what we have in the text, — what can 
 be more pathetic than that lamenting wish, " Oh that my 
 people had hearkened unto me, and Israel had walked in my 
 ways I"^ 
 
 But we must take heed lest, under the pretence that we 
 cannot ascribe everything to God that such expressions seem 
 to import, we therefore ascribe nothing. "VYe ascribe no- 
 thing, if we do not ascribe to him a real unwillingness that 
 men should sin on and perish ; and consequently, a real 
 willingness that they should turn to him and live, which so 
 many plain texts assert. And therefore it is unavoidably 
 imposed upon us, to believe that God is tridy unwilling of 
 some things, which he doth not think fit to interpose his 
 omnipotency to hinder, and is truly willing of some things 
 which he doth not put forth his omnipotency to effect : that 
 he most fitly makes this the ordinary course of his dispensa- 
 tions towards men, — to govern them by laws, and promises, 
 and threatenings, (made most express to them that live imder 
 the gospel,) to work upon their minds, their hope and their 
 fear ; affording them the ordinary assistances of supernatural 
 light and influence with which he requires them to comply, 
 and which, upon their refusing to do so, he may most 
 righteously withhold, and give them the victory to their 
 own ruin; though oftentimes he doth, from a sovereign fi/ of 
 grace, put forth that greater power upon others, equally 
 negligent and obstinate, not to enforce, but effectually to 
 incline, their wills, and gain a victory over them to their 
 salvation. 
 
 Nor is his will towards the rest altogether ineffectual, 
 1 Ps. Ixxxi. 13.
 
 318 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 tliougli it have not this effect. For whosoever thou art 
 that livest under the gospel, though thou dost not know 
 that God so wills thy conversion and salvation as to effect 
 it whatsoever resistance thou now makest ; though thou art 
 not sure he will finally overcome aU thy resistance and j)lnck 
 thee as a firebrand out of the mouth of hell ; yet thou canst 
 not say his good-will towards thee hath been without any 
 effect at all tending thereto. He hath often called upon 
 thee in his gospel to repent and turn to him through Christ ; 
 he hath waited on thee with long patience, and given thee 
 time and space of repentance ; he hath within that time been 
 often at work with thy soul. Hath he not many times let 
 in beams of light upon thee, shown thee the evil of thy ways, 
 convinced thee, awakened thee, half persuaded thee? And 
 thou never hadst reason to doubt but that, if thou hadst set 
 thyself with serious diligence " to work out thy own salva- 
 tion," he would have wrought on, so as to have brought 
 things to a blessed issue for thy soul. 
 
 Thou mightst discern his mind towards thee to be agree- 
 able to his word, wherein he hath testified to thee he 
 desired not the death of sinners, that he "hath no plea- 
 sure in the death of him that dieth," or in the death of the 
 wicked, "but that he should turn and live;" exhorted thee; 
 expostidated with thee and others in thy condition, " Turn 
 ye, turn ye, why will ye die ?" He hath told thee expressly 
 thy stubbornness and contending against him did " grieve " 
 him, and " vex his Spirit ; " that thy sin wherein thou 
 hast indidged thyself hath been "an abomination to him," 
 that it was "the abominable thing which his soul hated," 
 — that he was " broken with the whorish heart " of such as 
 thou, and " pressed therewith as a cart that was full of 
 sheaves." 
 
 Now, such expressions as these, though they are borrowed 
 from man, must be understood suitably to God ; though they 
 do not signify the same thing with him as they do in us, 
 yet they do not signify nothing. As, when hands and eyes 
 are attributed to God, they do not signify as they do with
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS, 319 
 
 US, yet they signify somewhat correspondent, — as active and 
 visive power ; so these expressions, though they signify not 
 in God such unquiet motions and passions as they would in 
 us, they do signify a mind and will really, though with the 
 most perfect calmness and tranquillity, set against sin and 
 the horrid consequences of it ; which yet, for greater reasons 
 than we can understand, he may not see fit to do all he can 
 to prevent. And if we know not how to reconcile such a 
 will in God with some of our notions concerning the Divine 
 natiu'e, shall we, for what we have thought of him, deny 
 what he hath so expressly said of himself or pretend to 
 understand his nature better than he himself doth?^ 
 
 And when we see, from such express sayings in Scripture 
 (reduced to a sense becoming God), how God's mind stands 
 in reference to sinners and their self-destroying ways, we 
 may thence apprehend what temper of mind our Lord Jesus 
 also bears towards them in the like case, even in his glorified 
 state. For can you think there is a disagreement between 
 him and the Father about these things ? And whereas we 
 find our blessed Lord, in the days of his flesh, one while 
 complaining men " would not come to him that they might 
 have life;"^ elsewhere grieved at the "hardness of their 
 hearts;"'^ and here scattering tears over sinning and perish- 
 ing Jerusalem, — we cannot doubt but that — the innocent 
 perturbation which his earthly state did admit being severed 
 — ^his mind is still the same in reference to cases of the same 
 nature ; for can we think there is any disagreement between 
 him and himself ? We cannot therefore doubt but that, — 
 
 1. He disfinctli/ comprehends the truth of any such case. He 
 beholds from the throne of his glory above, all the treaties 
 ■which are held and managed with sinners in his name, and 
 what their deportments are therein. " His eyes are as a 
 flame of fire, " wherewith he " searcheth hearts and trieth 
 reins." He hath seen, therefore, sinner, all along, every 
 time an ofier of grace hath been made to thee, and been 
 rejected ; when thou hast slighted counsels and warnings 
 
 ^ See the Appendix. " John v. 40. ' iMark iii. 5.
 
 320 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 that have been given thee, exhortations and entreaties that 
 have been pressed upon thee, for many years together ; and 
 how thou hast hardened thy heart against reproofs and 
 threatenings, against promises and alkirements ; and beholds 
 the tendency of all this, what is like to come of it, — and 
 that, if thou persist, it will be bitterness in the end. 
 
 2. That he hath a real dislilce of the sinfulness of thy course. 
 It is not indifferent to him whether thou obeyest or disobeyest 
 the gospel, — whether thou turn and repent, or no ; that he is 
 truly displeased at thy trifling, sloth, negligence, impeni- 
 tency, hardness of heart, stubborn obstinacy and contempt of 
 his grace ; and takes real ofience at them. 
 
 3. He hath real kind propensions toxrnrls thee, and is ready 
 to receive thy returning soul, and effectually to mediate with 
 the offended Majesty of heaven for thee as long as there is 
 any hope in thy case. 
 
 4. When he sees there is no hope, he pities thee, while thou 
 seest it not, and dost not pity thyself. Pity and mercy 
 above are not names only ; it is a great reality that is 
 signified by them, and that hath place there in far higher 
 excellency and perfection than it can with us poor mortals 
 here below. Ours is but borrowed and participated fi'om 
 that first foimtain and original above. Thou dost not perish 
 unlamented, even with the purest heavenly pity, though thou 
 hast made thy case incapable of remedy : as the well-tem- 
 pered judge bewails the sad end of the malefactor, whom 
 justice obliges him not to spare or save. 
 
 USE. — And now let us consider what nse is to be made of 
 all this. And though nothing can be useful to the persons 
 themselves whom the Redeemer thus laments as lost, yet 
 that he doth so may be of great use to others ; which will 
 partly concern those who do justly apprehend this is not their 
 case ; and partly such as may he in great fear that it is : — 
 
 First, For such as have reason to persuade themselves it 
 is not their case. The best ground upon which any can 
 confidently conclude this is, that they have in this their
 
 "WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 321 
 
 present day, through the grace of God, already effectually 
 known the things of their peace ; such, namely, as have 
 sincerely, with all their hearts and souls, turned to God, 
 taken him to be their God, and devoted themselves to him, 
 to be his ; intrusting and subjecting themselves to the saving 
 mercy and governing power of the Redeemer, according to 
 the tenor of the gospel-covenant ; from which they do not 
 find their hearts to swerve or decline, but resolve through 
 Divine assistance to persevere herein all their days. 
 
 Now for such as with whom things are already brought to 
 that comfortable conclusion, I only say to them ; — 
 
 1. Rejoice and bless God that so it is. Christ your 
 Eedeemer rejoices with you and over you ; you may collect 
 it from his contrary resentment of their case who are past 
 hope, — if he weep over them, he no doubt rejoices over you. 
 There is joy in heaven concerning you. Angels rejoice, — 
 yoiu? glorious Redeemer presiding in the joyful concert. 
 And should not you rejoice for yourselves ? Consider what 
 a discrimination is made in yoiu* case ! To how many hath 
 that gospel been a deadly savour, which hath proved "a 
 savour of life luito life " to you ! How many have fallen on 
 your right hand and your left, stumbling " at the stone of 
 offence" which to you is become the "head-stone of the 
 corner, elect and precious ! " Whence is this difference ? 
 Did 3"ou never slight Christ ? never make light of offered 
 mercy ? Was your mind never blind or vain ? Was your 
 heart never hard or dead ? Were the terms of peace and 
 reconciliation never rejected or disregarded b}^ you? How 
 should you admire victorious grace, that would never desist 
 from striving with you till it had overcome ! You are the 
 triumph of the Redeemer's conquering love, who might have 
 been of his wrath and justice ! Endeavour your spirits may 
 taste more and more the sweetness of reconciliation, that 
 3^ou may more abound in joy and praises. Is it not pleasant 
 to you to be at peace with God ; to find that all controversies 
 are taken up between him and you ; that you can now 
 approach him, and his terrors not make you afraid ; that 
 
 p 3
 
 322 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 you can enter into the secret of his presence and solace your- 
 selves in his assured favoiu' and love ? How should you 
 "joy in God through Jesus Christ, by whom you have 
 received the atonement ! " What have you now to fear : 
 " If, when you were enemies, you were reconciled by the 
 death of Christ, how much more, being reconciled, shall you 
 be saved by his life ? " How great a thing have you to 
 oppose to all worldly troubles : " If God be for you, who can 
 be against you ? " Think how mean it is for the friends of 
 God, the favourites of heaven, to be dismayed at the appear- 
 ances of danger that threaten them from the inhabitants of 
 the earth ? What if all the world were in a posture of 
 hostility against you, when the mighty Lord of all is your 
 friend ? Take heed of thinking meanly of his power and 
 love ! Woidd any one diminish to himself whom he takes 
 for his God ? " All people will walk every one in the name 
 of his god ; " whj'' should not you much more in the name of 
 yours, glorying in him and making your boasts of him all 
 the day long? the reproach which is cast upon the 
 glorious name of the great God, by their diffidence and de- 
 spondency who visibly stand in special relation to him, but 
 fear the impotent malice of mortal man more than they can 
 trust in his almighty love ! If indeed you are "justified by 
 faith and have peace with God," it becomes you so "to 
 rejoice in the hope of the glory of God " as also to " glory in 
 tribidation," and tell all the world that in his favour stands 
 your life, and that you care not who is displeased with you 
 for the things wherewith you have reason to apprehend he is 
 pleased. 
 
 2. Demean yourselves with that care, caution, and dutiful- 
 ness, that become a state of reconciliation. Bethink your- 
 selves that your present peace and friendshij) with God is not 
 original, and continued from thence, but hath been inter- 
 rupted and broken ; that your peace is not that of constantly 
 innocent persons. You stand not in this good and happy 
 state because you never offended, but as being reconciled, 
 and who therefore were once enemies. And when you were
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 323 
 
 brouglit to know, in that your " day " which you have 
 enjoyed, the "things belonging to your peace," you were 
 made to feel the smart and taste the bitterness of your 
 having been " alienated, and enemies in your minds by 
 wicked works." "When the terrors of God did beset you 
 round, and his arrows stuck fast in you, did you not then 
 find trouble and sorrow ? Were you not in a fearful expec- 
 tation of wrath and fiery indignation to consume and burn 
 you up as adversaries ? Would you not then have given all 
 the world for a peaceful word or look, for any glimmering 
 hope of peace? How wary and afraid should you be of a 
 new breach ! How should you study acceptable deportments, 
 and to walk " worthy of God, imto all well-pleasing ! " How 
 strictly careful should you be to keep faith with him, and 
 abide " stedfast in his covenant ! " How concerned for his 
 interest, and in what agonies of spirit when you behold the 
 eruptions of enmity against him from any others, — not from 
 any distrust, or fear of final prejudice to his interest, but 
 from the apprehension of the unrighteousness of the thing 
 itself and a dutifid love to his name, throne, and govern- 
 ment ! How zealous should you be to draw in others ! How 
 fervent in your endeavours, within your own sphere, and 
 how large in your desires, extended as far as the sphere of 
 the universe, that " every knee might bow to him, and every 
 tongue confess " to him ! They ought to be more deeply 
 concerned for his righteous cause, that remember they were 
 once most mirighteously engaged against it ; and ought, 
 besides, to be filled with compassion towards the souls of 
 men yet in an unreconciled state, as having known, by 
 "the terrors of the Lord," and remembering the experienced 
 dismalness and horror of that state, — what it was to have 
 di\ine wrath and justice armed against you with almighty 
 power, and to have heard the thunder of such a voice, " I 
 lift up my hand to heaven, and say I live for ever ; if I 
 whet my glittering sword, and my hand take hold on judg- 
 ment, I will recompense fury to mine adversaries, ven- 
 geance to mine enemies." Do you not know what the case
 
 324 THE -redeemer's teaes 
 
 is like to be, when "potsherds," that should "strive but with 
 the potsherds of the earth," venture to oppose themselves as 
 antagonists to Omnipotency ? And when " briers and thorns 
 set themselves " in battle array " against a consuming fire," 
 how easily it can pass through, and devour, and burn them 
 up together ! And how much more fearful is their condition 
 that loiow it not, but are ready to " rush like the horse into 
 the battle ! " Do you owe no dut}^, no pity to them that 
 have the same nature with you, and with whom your case 
 was once the same ? If you do indeed know the " things of 
 your peace " Grodward, so as to have made your peace, to 
 have come to an agreement, and struck a covenant with 
 him ; you have now taken his side, are of his confederates, — 
 not as equals, but subjects. You have sworn allegiance to 
 him, and associated yourself with all them that have done so. 
 There can hereupon be but one common interest to him and 
 you. Hence, therefore, you are most strictly obliged to wish 
 well to that interest, and promote it to your uttermost, in his 
 OH-n icay ; that is, according to his openly avowed inclination 
 and design, and the genuine constitution of that kingdom 
 which he hath erected and is intent to enlarge and extend 
 farther in the world. That, you do well know, is a kingdom 
 of grace ; for his natural kingdom already confines with the 
 universe, and can have no enlargement, without enlarging 
 the creation. Whosoever they are that contend against him, 
 are not merely enemies, therefore, but rebels. And you see 
 he aims to conquer them by love and goodness, and therefore 
 treats with them, and seeks to establish a kingdom over 
 them, in and by a Mediator ; who, if he were not intent upon 
 the same design, had never lamented the destruction of any 
 of them, and wept over their ruin, as here you find. So, 
 therefore, should you long for the conversion of souls, and 
 the enlargement of his kingdom this way, both out of loyalty 
 to him and compassion towards them. 
 
 Secondly, For such as may be in great fear lest this prove 
 to he their case. They are either such as rnny fear it, but do 
 not ; or such as are deeply afilicted with this actual fear : —
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 325 
 
 1. For the former sort, wlio are in too great clanger of 
 bringing tliemselves into this dreadful, deplorate condition, 
 but apprehend nothing of it ; all that is to be said to them, 
 apart by themselves, is only to awaken them out of their 
 drowsy, dangerous slumber and security ; and then they will 
 be capable of being spoken to together with the other sort. 
 Let me, therefore, — 
 
 (1.) Demand of you, Do you believe there is a Lord over 
 you, — yea or no? Use your thoughts; for, about matters 
 that concern you less, you can think. Do you not apprehend 
 you have an invisible Owner and Euler, that rightfully 
 claims to himself an interest in you and a governing power 
 over you ? How came you into being ? You know you 
 made not yourselves. And if j^ou yet look no higher than 
 to progenitors of your own kind — mortal men, as you are 
 — how came they into being? You have so much under- 
 standing about you, if you would use it, as to Imow they 
 could none of them make themselves, more than you, and 
 that, therefore, the human race must have had its beginninp- 
 from some superior ^Laker. And did not he that made 
 them make you and all things else ? Where are your argu- 
 ments to prove it was otherwise, and that this world and all 
 the generations of men took beginning of themselves, without 
 a wise and mighty Creator ? Produce your strong reasons, 
 upon which you will venture your souls and all the possi- 
 bilities of your being happy or miserable, to eternity! 
 Will your imagination make you safe, and protect you 
 against his wi'ath and justice, whose authority you will not 
 own ? Can you, by it, uncreate your Creator and nullify the 
 eternal Being? Or have you anything else besides yovir 
 own blind imagination, to make you confident that all things 
 came of nothing, without any maker? But if you know 
 not how to thinlc this reasonable, and apprehend j'ou must 
 allow yourselves to owe your being to an almighty Creator, 
 let me, — 
 
 (2.) Ask of you how you think your life is maintained. 
 Doth not he that made you live, keep you aKve ? Whereas
 
 326 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 you liave often heard that we all " live, and move, and have 
 our beings in him," doth it not seem most likely to you to be 
 so ? Have you power of your own life ? Do you think you 
 can live as long as you will ? At least, do you not find you 
 need the common helps of meat and drink, and air and 
 clothing, for the support and comfort of your lives? And 
 are not all these his creatures as well as you ? And can you 
 have them whether he will or no ? 
 
 (3.) And how can you think that he that made and main- 
 tains you, hath no right to rule you ? If it were possible 
 any one should as much depend upon you, would you not 
 claim such power over him? Can you suppose yourself to 
 be under no obligation to please him who hath done so much 
 for you, and to do his will, if you can any way know it ? 
 
 (4.) And can you pretend you have no means to know it ? 
 That book that goes up and down under the name of his 
 word, can you disprove it to be his word ? If such writings 
 should now first come into the world, so sincere, so awful, 
 so holy, so heavenly ; bearing so expressly the Divine image, 
 avowing themselves to be from God, — and the most won- 
 derful works are wrought to prove them his word, the deaf 
 made to hear, the blind to see, the dumb to speak, the sick 
 healed, the dead raised, by a word only commanding it to be 
 so ; would you not confess this to be sufficient evidence that 
 this revelation came from heaven ? And are you not suffi- 
 ciently assured they are so confirmed ? Do you find in 
 yom'selves any inclination to cheat your children in anything 
 that concerns their well-being? Why shotJd you more 
 suspect your forefathers' design to cheat you, in the mere 
 reporting falsely a matter of fact ? "Was not hiunan nature 
 the same so many hundred years ago ? Did ever the ene- 
 mies of the Christian name in the earlier days of Christianity, 
 when it was but a novelty in the world and as much hated 
 and endeavoured to be rooted out as ever any profession was, 
 deny su.ch matters of fact ? Have not some of the most 
 spiteful of them confessed it ? Did not Christians then 
 willingly sacrifice their lives by multitudes, upon the assured
 
 WEPT OYER LOST SOULS. 
 
 327 
 
 truth of these things ? Have they not been ever since most 
 strictly careful to preserve these writings and transmit them, 
 as wherein the all of themselves and their posterity was 
 contained ? And where is now yoiu' new light ? ^Vliere are 
 your later discoveries, upon which, so many ages after, you 
 are able to evict these writings of falsehood or dare venture 
 to disbelieve them ? 
 
 (5.) But if you believe these writings to be Divine, how 
 expressly is it told you in them what the state of your case is 
 Godward, and what he requires of you ! You may see you 
 have displeased him and how you are to please him, as hath 
 been shown before in this discom'se. You. know that you 
 have lived in the world mindless and inobservant of him ; 
 not trusting, fearing, loving, or dehghting in him ; declining 
 his acquaintance and converse ; seeking your own pleasure, 
 following your inclination, doing your own will as if you were 
 supreme, never minding to refer your actions to his precepts as 
 your rule or to his glory as your end. And from that word 
 of his you may understand all this to be very displeasing to 
 him ; and that you can never please him by continuing this 
 course, but by breaking it off, and returning to him as your 
 Lord and your God ; — that since your case did need a 
 Redeemer and Reconciler, and he hath provided and ap- 
 pointed one for you, you are to apply yourselves to him, to 
 commit and subject your souls to him, to trust in his merits and 
 blood, and submit to his authority and government. And, — 
 
 (6.) Are you not continualhj called hereto by the gospel, 
 under which you have lived all this while ? So that you are 
 in actual, continual rebellion against him all the while you 
 comply not with this call ; every breath you draw is re- 
 bellious breath. There is no moment wherein this Kes not 
 upon you, by every moment's addition to your time. And 
 that patience of his which adds by moments to your life, and 
 should lead you to repentance, is, while you repent not, 
 perverted by you only to the treasuring up of " wrath 
 against the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous 
 judgment of God."
 
 328 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 (7.) And do you not find, as his word also plainly tells 
 you, a great averseness and disinclination in you to any sucli 
 serious, solemn ap])lying yourself to liim and your Redeemer ? 
 Try your own hearts ; do you not find them draw back and 
 recoil ? If you urge them, do they not still fly off ? How 
 loth are you to retire, and set yourselves to consider your 
 case, and imto serious seeking of God in Christ ; both from a 
 reluctancy and indisposition to any such employment as this 
 is itself, and from disaffection to that whereto it tends, — the 
 breaking ofi" your former sinful course of life and entering 
 upon a better. And does not all this show you the plain 
 truth of what the word of God hath told you, that the 
 Ethiopian may as soon change his skin or the leopard his 
 spots, as they do good who are accustomed to do evil ; ^ that 
 you have a heart that cannot repent,^ till God give you 
 "repentance unto life;"^ that you cannot come to Christ till 
 the Father draw you?* Do you not see your case then, — 
 that you must perish if you have not help from heaven ? if 
 God do not give you Jiis grace to overcome and cure the 
 averseness and malignity of your nature, that things are 
 likely thus to run on with you as they have, from day to day 
 and from year to year ; and you, that are unwilling to take 
 the course that is necessary for your salvation to-day, are 
 likely to be as unwilling to-morrow, and so your lives con- 
 sume in vanity till you drop into perdition ? But, — 
 
 (8.) Dost thou not also know, sinner, — what hath been 
 so newly shown thee from God's word, — that, by thy being 
 under the gospel, thou hast a day of grace ; not only as offers 
 of pardon and reconciliation are made to thee in it, but also 
 as, through it, converting, heart-renewing grace is to be 
 expected and may be had ? that what is sufficient for the 
 turning and changing of thy heart is usually not given all 
 at once, but as gentler insinuations (the injection of some 
 good thoughts and desires) are complied with, more powerful 
 influences may be hoped to follow ? that therefore thou art 
 concerned, — upon any such thought cast into thy mind, of 
 
 1 Jer. xiii. 23. = j^om. ij. 5. 3 ^^ts xi. 18. '» Joliu vi. 44.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 329 
 
 going now to seek Grod for tlie Kfe of thy soul, — to strive, 
 thyself, against thy own disinclination ; that if thou do not, 
 but yield to it, and still defer, it may prove mortal to thee ? 
 For is it not plain to thee in itself and from what hath been 
 said, that this day hath its limits and will come to an end ? 
 Dost thou not know thou art a mortal creature, — that thy 
 breath is in thy nostrils ? Dost thou know how near thou 
 art to the end of thy life, and how few breaths there may 
 be for thee between this present moment and eternity ? 
 Dost thou not know thy day of grace may end before thy life ; 
 that thou mayst be cast far enough out of the sound of the 
 gospel ; and if thou shouldst carry any notices of it with thee, 
 thou who hast been so unapt to consider them while they 
 were daily pressed upon thee, wilt most probably be less apt 
 when thou hearest of no such thing ? that thou mayst live 
 still under the gospel, and the Spirit of grace retire from 
 thee and never attempt thee more, for thy former despiting 
 of it ? for what obligation hast thou upon that blessed Spirit ? 
 or why shouldst thou think a Deity bound to attend upon thy 
 triflings ? And, — 
 
 (9.) If yet all this move not, consider what it will be to die 
 unreconciled to God ! Thou hast been his enemy ; he hath 
 made thee gracious offers of peace, waited long upon thee ; 
 thou hast made light of all. The matter must at length end 
 either in reconciKation or vengeance ! The former is not 
 acceptable to thee ; — art thou prepared for the latter ? Canst 
 thou sustain it ? Is it not " a fearful thing to fall into the 
 hands of the living God ? " Thou wilt not do him right, — he 
 must then right himself upon thee. Dost thou think he cannot 
 do it ? canst thou doubt his power ? Cast thine eyes about 
 thee, — behold the greatness, as far as thou canst, of this 
 creation of his, whereof thou art but a very little part. He 
 who hath made that sxm. over thine head and stretched out 
 those spacious heavens, who hath furnished them with those 
 innumerable bright stars, who governs all their motions, 
 who hath "hung this earth upon nothing," who made and 
 sustains that great variety of creatures that inhabit it, — can
 
 330 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 he not deal with thee, a worm ? " Can thine heart endure 
 or thine hands be strong, if he plead with thee;" if he 
 surround thee with his terrors and set them in battle array 
 against thee ? " Hell and destruction are open before him, 
 and without covering ;" how soon art thou cast in and 
 engulfed ! Sit down, and consider whether thou be able, 
 with thy impotency, to stand before him that comes against 
 thee with almighty power ! Is it not better to sue in time 
 for peace ? 
 
 But perhaps thou mayst say, ' I begin now to fear it is too 
 late ; I have so long slighted the gospel, resisted the Holy 
 Spirit of God, abused and baffled my own Kght and con- 
 science, that I am afraid God will quite abandon me and 
 cast me off for ever.' It is well if thou do indeed begin 
 to fear. That fear gives hope. Thou art then capable of 
 coming into their rank who are next to be spoken to, 
 namely, — 
 
 2. Such as feel themselves afflicted with the apprehension 
 and dread of their having outlived their day, and that the 
 things of their peace are now irrecoverably hid from their 
 eyes. I desire to counsel such faithfully, according to that 
 light and guidance which the gospel of our Lord affords us in 
 reference to any such case : — 
 
 (1.) Take heed of stifling that fear suddenly ; but laboiu' to 
 improve it to some advantage, and then to cure and remove 
 it by rational, evangelical means and methods. Do not, as 
 thou lovest the life of thy soul, go about sviddenly, or by 
 undue means, to smother or extinguish it. It is too possible, 
 when any such apprehension strikes into a man's mind, — 
 because it is a sharp or piercing thought, disturbs his quiet, 
 gives him molestation and some torture, — to pluck out the 
 dart too soon, and cast it away. Perhaps such a course is 
 taken as doth him unspeakably more mischief than a thou- 
 sand such thoughts would ever do. He diverts, it may be, to 
 vain company or to sensuality ; talks or drinks away his 
 trouble ; makes death his cure of jDain, and to avoid the fear 
 of hell, leaps into it. Is this indeed the wisest course ? Either
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 331 
 
 tliy apprehension is reasonable or unreasonable. If it should 
 prove a reasonable apprehension, as it is a terrible one, would 
 the neglect of it become a reasonable creature, or mend thy 
 case ? If it shall be found unreasonable, it may require time 
 and some debate to discover it to be so ; whereby, when it is 
 manifestly detected, with how much greater satisfaction is it 
 laid aside ! Labour, then, to inquire rightly concerning this 
 matter. 
 
 (2.) In this inquiry, consider diligently whcd the kind of 
 that fear is that yon find yourselves afflicted with. The fear that 
 perplexes your heart must some way correspond to the ap- 
 prehension you have in your mind touching your case. Con- 
 sider what that is, and in what form it shows itself there. 
 Doth it appear in the form of a 'peremptory judcjment, a de- 
 finitive sentence which you have passed within yourself con- 
 cerning your case, that your day is over, and you are a lost 
 creature ; or only of a mere doubt lest it should prove so ? 
 The fear that corresponds to the former of these makes you 
 quite desperate, and obstinately resolute against any means 
 for the bettering of your condition ; the fear that answers to 
 the latter apprehension, hath a mixture of hope in it, which 
 admits of somewhat to be done for your relief and will prompt 
 thereunto. I^abour to discern which of these is the present 
 temper and posture of your spirit. 
 
 (3.) If you find it be the former, let no thought any longer 
 dwell in your mind under that form ; namely, as a definitive 
 sentence concerning your state. You have nothing to do. to 
 pass such a judgment ; the tendency of it is dismal and 
 horrid, as you may yourself perceive. And your ground for 
 it is none at all. Your conscience within you is to do the 
 ofiice of a judge, but only of an mider-judge, that is to pro- 
 ceed strictly by rule prescribed and set by the sovereign Lord 
 and Arbiter of life and death. There is one Lawgiver, who 
 is able to save and to destroy. Nor is your conscience, as an 
 imder-judge, to meddle at aU but in cases within your cogni- 
 zance. This about your final state is a reserved, excepted case, 
 belonging only to the supreme tribimal, which you must take
 
 332 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 heed how you usurp. As sucli a judgment tends to make you 
 desperate, so there will be high presumption in this despair. 
 Dare j^ou take upon you to cancel and nullify to yourself the 
 obligation of the evangelical law ? and, whereas that makes 
 it your duty to repent and believe the gospel, to absolve 
 yourself from this bond, and say, 'it is none of your duty,' 
 or make it impossible to you to do it ? You have matter and 
 cases enough within the cognizance of your conscience ; not 
 only the particular actions of your life, but your present state 
 also, whether you be as yet in a state of acceptance with God 
 through Christ, yea or no. And here you have rules set you 
 to judge by. But concerning your final state, or that you 
 shall never be brought into a state of acceptance, you have no 
 rule by which you can make such a judgment ; and therefore 
 this judgment belongs not to you. Look then upon the 
 matter of your final condition as an exempt case, reserved to 
 the future judgment, and the present determination whereof 
 against yoiurself is without your compass and line, and most 
 unsuitable to the state of probation wherein you are to reckon 
 God continues you here with the rest of men in this world ; 
 and therefore any such judgment you should tear and reverse, 
 and, as such, not permit to have any place with you. 
 
 (4.) Yet since, as hath been said, you are not quite to 
 reject or obliterate any apprehension or thought touching 
 this subject, make it your business to correct and reduce it to 
 that other form, — that is, let it only for the present remain 
 with you as a doubt how your case now stands and what 
 issue it may at length have. And see that your fear there- 
 upon be answerable to your apprehension so rectified. While 
 as yet it is not evident you have made your peace with God 
 upon his known terms, you are to consider God hath left your 
 case a doubtful case, and you are to conceive of it accord- 
 ingly ; and are to entertaia a fear concerning it, not as cer- 
 tainly hopeless, but as uncertain. And as yours is really a 
 doubtful case, it is a most important one. It concerns your 
 souls and your eternal well-being, and is not therefore to be 
 neglected or trifled with. You do not know how God will
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 333 
 
 deal witli you ; whether he will again afford yon such help as 
 he hath done, or whether ever he will effectually move your 
 heart unto conversion and salvation. You, therefore, are to 
 "work out your salvation with fear and tremhling," because, 
 as was told you, he works but " of his own good pleasure." 
 Your fear should not exceed this state of yom' case, so as to 
 exclude hope. It is of unspeakable concernment to you 
 that hope do intermingle with your fear. That will do much 
 to mollif}' and soften yoiu' hearts, — that after all the abuse of 
 mercy and imposing upon the patience of God, your neglects 
 and slights of a bleeding Sa\dour, your resisting and grieving 
 the Spirit of grace, he may yet, once for all, visit your 
 forlorn soul with his vital influence and save you from going 
 do^^ai to perdition ! How can your hearts but melt and 
 break upon this apprehension ! And it is not a groundless 
 one. He that " came not to call the righteous, but sinners to 
 repentance," will not fail to treat them well whom he sees 
 beginning to Ksten to his call, and entertaining the thoughts 
 that most directly tend to bring them to a compKance with 
 it. Your hope, insinuating itself and mingling with your 
 fear, is highly grateful to the God of all grace. He " taketh 
 pleasure in them that fear him, in those that hope in his 
 mercy. "^ 
 
 (5.) But see to it also that your fear be not slight and 
 momentary, and that it vanish not while as yet it hath so 
 great a work to do in you, — namely, to engage you to accept 
 God's own terms of peace and reconciliation with all your 
 heart and soul. It is of continual use, even not only in order 
 to conversion, but to the converted also. Can jow think 
 those mentioned words ^ were spoken to none such? or those, 
 "Let us therefore fear, lest, a promise being left us of 
 entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come 
 short ?"^ etc. And do we not find a holy fear is to contri- 
 bute all along to the whole of progressive sanctification ? 
 "Having therefore these promises, dearly beloved, let us 
 cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, 
 1 Ps. cxlvii. IL - PhiL ii. 12, 13. 3 Heb. iv. 1.
 
 334 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 perfecting holiness in the fear of God:"^ and that by it 
 he preserves his own, that they never depart from him ? ^ 
 Much more do you need it in your present case, while 
 matters are yet in treaty between God and you. And as 
 it should not exceed the true apprehension of your case, so 
 nor shoidd it come short of it : — 
 
 (6.) You should, therefore, in order hereto, aggravate to 
 yourselves the just causes of your fear. Why are you afraid 
 your day should be over and the things of your peace be for 
 ever hid from your eyes ? Is it not that you have sinned 
 against much light, against many checks of your own con- 
 sciences, against many very serious warnings and exhorta- 
 tions, many earnest, importunate beseechings and entreaties 
 you have had in the ministry of the gospel, many motions 
 and strivings of the Spirit of God thereby ? Let your 
 thoughts dwell upon these things. Think what it is for the 
 great God, the Lord of glory, to have been slighted by a 
 worm ! Doth not this deserve as ill things at the hands of 
 God as you can fear ? It is fit you should apprehend what 
 your desert is, though perhaps mercy may interpose, and 
 avert the deserved dreadful event. And if he have signified 
 his displeasure towards you hereupon, by desisting for the 
 present, and ceasing to strive with you as he hath formerly 
 done ; if your heart be grown more cold and dead and hard 
 than sometime it was ; if you have been left so as to fall into 
 grosser sin ; it is highly reasonable you should fear being 
 finally forsaken of the blessed Spirit of God, and greatly 
 fear it ; but with an aiiful fear, that may awaken you most 
 earnestly to endeavour his return to you, — not with a despair- 
 ing fear, that will bind you up from any further endeavour 
 for your soul at all. 
 
 And if, upon all this, by death or otherwise, such a ministry 
 be withdrawn from you as God did work by — in some 
 degree — upon you, and you find not in that kind what is so 
 suitable to your state and case, take heed lest you be stupid 
 under such a stroke. Think what it imports unto you, if 
 
 1 2 Cor. vii. 1. '^ Jer. xxxii. 40.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 335 
 
 God have, as it were, said concerning any servant of his, 
 " I will make his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth, 
 that he shall not be a reprover to you any more ! "^ Consider 
 that God may by this be making way that " wrath may come 
 upon you to the uttermost," and never let you have opportu- 
 nity to know more the things of your peace. Perhaps you 
 may never meet with the man more that shall speak so accom- 
 modately to your condition, that shall so closely jDursue you 
 through all the haunts, and subterfuges, and lurking holes, 
 wherein your guilty, con%dnced soul hath been wont to hide 
 itself and falsely seek to heal its own wounds. One of more 
 value may be less apt, possibly, to profit you ; as a more 
 polished key doth not therefore alike fit every lock. And thy 
 case may be such, that thou shalt never hear a sermon or the 
 voice of a preacher more. 
 
 (7.) And now in this case recollect yourselves, u-hat sins you 
 have been formerly convinced of under such a ministry, and 
 which you have persisted in notwithstanding. Were you 
 never convinced of 3^our neglecting God and living as without 
 him in the world ; of your low esteem and disregard of 
 Christ ; of your worldliness, your minding only the things of 
 this earth ; of your carnality, pride, self-seeking, voluptuous- 
 ness, your having been " lovers of pleasure more than lovers 
 of God;" of your unprofitableness in your station, wherein 
 you ought to have lived more conformably to Christian rules 
 and precepts, according to the relations wherein God had set 
 you ? Were you never convinced how very faulty governors 
 you have been, or members of families, parents or masters, 
 children or servants, etc.? What will this come to at last, 
 that convictions have hitherto signified and served for nothing 
 but increase of guilt ! 
 
 (8.) Under aU this weight and load of guilt, consider what 
 you have to do for your souls ! Bethink yourselves ; are you 
 to sit do^vn and yield yourselves to perish ? Qonsider, man, 
 it is the business of thy soul and of thine eternal state that 
 is now before thee. Thou hast the dreadful flaming gulf of 
 
 1 Ezek. iii. 26.
 
 336 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 everlasting liorror and misery in view ; liast tliou notliiiig 
 left thee to do but to throw thyself into it ? Methinks thou 
 shoiddst sooner reconcile thy thoughts to anything than that ; 
 and that, if anything at all be to be done for thine escape, 
 thou shouldst rather set thyself about it, and do it. Thou 
 art yet alive, not yet in hell, — yet the patience of God spares 
 thee, thou hast yet time to consider, thou hast the power to 
 think yet left thee ; and canst thou use it no other way than 
 to think of perishing ? Think rather how not to perish. A 
 great point is gained, if thou art but brought to sa}^, " What 
 shall I do to be saved ? " which doth imply thou dost both 
 apprehend the distressedness of thy case, and art willing to 
 do anything that is to be done for thy relief. And if thou 
 art brought to this, thy circumstances may perhaps be such 
 that thou canst only put this question to thyself and art only 
 thyself to answer it, without a living, present guide ; which 
 may therefore make such a help as this needful to thee. 
 Possibly some irresistible providence may have so cast thy 
 lot, that thou art only now to be thy own preacher, though 
 it sometime was otherwise with thee, and things were said to 
 thee most suitable to the condition of thy soul which thou 
 wouldst not then consider. It is yet pressed upon thee to 
 consider note, with some design to direct thy thoughts that 
 they run not into useless and troublesome confusion only. 
 And your subject being, what course you are now to take 
 that you may escape eternal wrath and ruin, it is obvious to 
 you to apprehend nothing is to be done against or without 
 God, but with him and by him ; your utmost consideration 
 can but bring the matter to this short point, that, whereas 
 you have highly offended the God that made j^ou, incurred his 
 wrath, and made him your enemy, * you are* either to resist, 
 or treat and supplicate. That madness w^hich would let you 
 mtenS. the former, is not capable of consideration at all. For, 
 if you consider, will you contend with omnipotency or fight 
 with an all-devouring flame ? And as to tJie tatter, it is well 
 for you that it can be the matter of your consideration, that 
 you have any encouragement to tm-u your thoughts that way.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 337 
 
 You miglit have enemies tliat, beint,^ provoked and having 
 you in their power, would never admit of treaty, nor regard 
 your supplications, but fall upon you with merciless fury, and 
 leave you nothing to think of but perishing. Here it is not 
 so with you. The merciful God hath graciously told jon, 
 " fury is not so in him," but that (though if briers and 
 thorns will set themselves in battle against him, he Avill 
 easily pass through, and burn them up together, yet) if any 
 will "take hold of his strength, that they may make peace 
 with him, they shall make peace with him."^ You a^e to 
 consider, there is danger in your case, and there is hope ; 
 that your sin is not so little as to need no forgiveness, nor 
 too great to be forgiven. Wherefore, whose case soever this 
 is, since you may be forgiven if you dul}^ apply yourselves, 
 and must be forgiven or you are undone, my further advice 
 to you is, — and you may, as to this, advise yourself, having 
 nothing else left you to do, — 
 
 (9.) That you cast yourselves down before the mercy-seat 
 of God, ludiihle ijoursclccs deeply at his footstool, turn to him 
 ivith all your soul, implore his mercy through Christ; make a 
 solemn covenant with him, taking him to he your God, and 
 devoting yourself to him, to be his ; accepting his Son as your 
 Lord and Saviour, and resigning your soul ivith submission and 
 trust entirely to him, to be ruled and saved by him. That you are 
 to do this the case is plain, and even speaks itself ; how you 
 are to do it, may need to be more particularly told you : — 
 
 i. Take heed that what you do in this be not the mere 
 effect of your present apprehended distress, but of the altered 
 judgment and inclination of your mind and heart. The appre- 
 hension of your distressed, dangerous condition may be a 
 useful means and inducement to engage you more seriously 
 to listen and attend to the proposals made to you in the 
 gospel. But if upon all this, it should be the sense of your 
 heart that you would rather live still as without God in the 
 world, and that you would never come to any such treaty 
 or agreement with him, if mere necessity and the fear of 
 
 1 Isa. xxvii. 4, 5. 
 VOL II. Q
 
 338 ' THE redeemer's tears 
 
 perishing did not urge you to it,, you are still but where you 
 were. Therefore, though the feared danger was necessary to 
 make you bethink yourself, and consider what God propounds 
 to you ; that consideration ought to have that further effect 
 upon you, to convince you of the equity and desirableness of 
 the things themselves which he propounds, summarily, — of 
 your betaking yourselves to him as your sovereign Lord and 
 supreme Good, to fear and love, obey and enjoy him, in 
 Christ Jesus ; and accordingly ought to incline your heart 
 thereto. 
 
 ii. You are to consider, in your entering into this covenant 
 with God in Christ, that it is not a transaction for the present 
 only you are about, but /br your icltole life. " This God is to 
 be your God for ever and ever ; your God and your guide 
 even to the death." ^ You are to live in his fear and love, in 
 his service and communion, all your days ; and must under- 
 stand this to be the meaning and tenor of the covenant which 
 you make with him. 
 
 iii. And hence therefore it is plain that your whole trans- 
 action in this matter must proceed from a neiv nature, and a 
 new vital principle of grace and holiness in you. What you 
 do herein will otherwise neither be sincere nor lasting. You 
 can never embrace religion for itself without this, nor con- 
 tinue on in a religious course. What you do only from a 
 temporary i:)ang of fear upon you, is but from a kind of force 
 that is for the present upon you, and will come to nothing as 
 soon as the impression of that fear wears off. The religion 
 which is true and durable is not from a " spirit of fear, but 
 of power, love, and a sound mind."^ You must be "a new 
 creature, God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto 
 good works, that you may walk in them." The life of the 
 new creature stands in love to God ; as its way and course 
 afterwards is a course of walking with God. If your heart 
 be not brought to love God and delight in him, you are still 
 but dead towards God and you still remain alive unto sin, as 
 before. Whereas, if you ever come to be a Christian indeed, 
 
 1 Ps. xlviii. 14. 2 2 Tim. i. 7.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 339 
 
 you must be able truly to " reckon yourself dead to sin, and 
 alive to God through Jesus Christ."^ AVhereupon, in your 
 making the mentioned covenant, you must " yield yourself 
 to God, as one that is alive from the dead ; " as it is, verse 
 13 of the same chapter. A new nature and life in you will 
 make all that you do in a way of duty, — whether imme- 
 diately towards God or man, — the whole course of godliness, 
 righteousness, and sobriety, easy and delightful to you. 
 And because it is evident, both from many plain scriptures 
 and your own and all men's experience, that you cannot be 
 yourselves the authors of a new life and nature, you must there- 
 fore further, in entering into this covenant, — 
 
 iv. Most earnedhj cry to God, and plead icith him for his 
 Spirit, by whom the vital unitive bond must be contracted 
 between God in Christ and your soids. So this will be the 
 covenant of life and jDeace. Lord, how generally do the 
 Christians of our age deceive themselves with a self-sprmig 
 religion ; divine, indeed, in the institution, but merely 
 human in respect of the radication and exercise ; in which 
 respects also it must be divine or nothing. What ! are we 
 yet to learn that a Divine power must work and form our 
 religion in us, as well as Divine authority direct and enjoin 
 it ? Do all such scriptures go for nothing that tell us, it is 
 God that must create the new heart and renew the right 
 spirit within us ; that he must turn us, if ever we be turned ; 
 that we can never come to Christ, except the Father draw 
 us, etc. ? Nor is there any cause of discouragement in this, 
 if you consider what hath before been said in this discourse : 
 " Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, 
 and it shall be opened unto you." Your heavenly Father will 
 give his Spirit to them that ask, more readily than parents 
 do bread to their children, and not a stone. But what if you 
 be put to ask often and wait long ? this doth but the more 
 endear the gift and show the high value of it. You are to 
 remember how often you have grieved, resisted, and vexed 
 this Spirit, and that you have made God wait long upon you. 
 1 Eom. vi. 11. 
 
 Q 2
 
 340 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 What if the absolute, sovereign Lord of all expect your 
 attendance upon him ? He waits to be gracious — and blessed 
 are they that wait for him. Renew your applications to him. 
 Lay from time to time that covenant before you, which your- 
 selves must be wrought up unto a fidl, entire closure with. 
 And if it be not done at one time, try yet if it will another, 
 and try again and again. Eemember it is for your life, for 
 your soul, for your all. But do not satisfy yourself with 
 only such faint motions within thee as may only be the 
 effects of thy own spirit, — of thy dark, dull, listless, sluggish, 
 dead, hard heart ; at least, not of the efficacious, regenerating 
 influence of the Divine Spirit. Didst thou never hear what 
 mighty workings there have been in others, when God hath 
 been transforming and renewing them, and drawing them 
 into living union with his Son, and himself through him ? 
 What an amazing, penetrating light hath struck into their 
 hearts, as 2 Cor. iv. 6 ; such as, when he was making the 
 world, enlightened the chaos ; such as hath made them see 
 things that concerned them as they tridy were and with their 
 own proper face, — God, and Christ, and themselves, sin and 
 duty, heaven and hell, in their own true appearances ! How 
 eflectually they have been awakened ! How the teri'ors of 
 the Almighty have beset and seized their souls ! A\Tiat 
 agonies and pangs they have felt in themselves, when the 
 voice of God hath said to them, " Awake, thou that sleepest, 
 and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light ! "^ 
 How he hath brought them down at his feet, thrown them 
 into the dust, broken them, melted them ; made them abase 
 themselves, loathe and abhor themselves ; filled them with 
 sorrow, shame, confusion, and with indignation towards their 
 own guilty souls ; habituated them to a severity against 
 themselves, unto the most sharp and yet most imforced self- 
 accusations, self-judging, and self-condemnation, so as even 
 to make them lay claim to hell and to confess the portion of 
 devils belonged to them, as their owti most deserved por- 
 tion ! And if now their eyes have been directed toward a 
 
 1 Eph. V. 14.
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 341 
 
 Redeemer and any glimmering of hope hath, appeared to 
 them ; if now they are taught to understand God saying to 
 them, 'Sinner, art thou yet willing to be reconciled, and 
 accept a Saviour ? ' — the transport into which it puts 
 them ! This is life from the dead ! ' What ! is there hope 
 for such a lost wretch as I ? ' How tasteful now is that 
 melting invitation, how pleasant an intimation doth it carry 
 with it, " Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy 
 laden, and I will give you rest ! " etc. If the Lord of 
 heaven and earth do now look down from the throne of 
 glory, and say, 'What ! sinner, wilt thou despise my favour 
 and pardon, my Son, thy mighty, merciful Redeemer, my 
 grace and Spirit, still ? ' what can be the return of the poor 
 abashed wretch, overawed by the glory of the Divine Ma- 
 jesty, stung with compunction, overcome with the intimation 
 of kindness and love ? "I have heard of thee, God, by 
 the hearing of the ear ; but now mine eye seeth thee ; where- 
 fore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." So 
 inwardly is the truth of that word now felt, " That thou 
 mayst remember, and be confoimded, and never open thy 
 mouth any more because of thy shame, when I am pacified 
 toward thee for all that thou hast done, saith the Lord 
 GoD."^ 'But, sinner, wilt thou make a covenant with me 
 and ni}' Christ ? wilt thou take me for thy God and him for 
 thy Redeemer and Lord ? ' ' And may I, Lord, yet may I ? 
 admirable grace ! wonderful sparing mercy ! that I was 
 not thrown into hell at my first refusal ! Yea, Lord, with all 
 my heart and soul ! — I renounce the vanities of an empty, 
 cheating world, and all the pleasures of sin. In thy favour 
 stands my life ; " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? whom 
 on earth do I desire besides thee ? " And thou blessed 
 Jesus ! thou Prince of the kings of the earth ! who hast loved 
 me, and washed me from my sins in thy blood, and whom 
 the eternal God hath exalted to be " a Prince and a Saviour, 
 to give repentance and remission of sins," I fall before thee, 
 my Lord and my God ! I here willingly tender my homage 
 1 Ezek. xvi. 63.
 
 342 THE redeemer's tears 
 
 at the footstool of tliy throne. I take thee for the Lord of 
 my life. I absolutely surrender and resign myself to thee. 
 Thy love constrains me henceforth no more to live to myself, 
 but to thee, who diedst for me, and didst rise again. And 
 I subject and yield myself to thy blessed light and power, 
 Holy Spirit of grace ! to be more and more illuminated, 
 sanctified, and prepared for every good word and work in 
 this world, and for an inheritance among them that are 
 sanctified in the other.' Sinner, never give thy soul leave to 
 be at rest till thou find it brought to some such transaction 
 with God — the Father, Son, and Spirit — as this ; so as that 
 thou canst truly say and dost feel, thy heart is in it. Be not 
 weary or impatient of waiting and striving, till thou canst 
 say this is now the very sense of thy soul. Such things have 
 been done in the world — but how seldom of latter days ! — 
 so God hath wrought with men, " to save them from going 
 down to the pit, having found a ransom for them." And 
 why may he not yet be expected to do so ? He hath smitten 
 rocks ere now, and made the Avaters gush out ; nor is his 
 hand shortened, nor his ear heavy. Thy danger is not, 
 sinner, that he will be inexorable, but lest thou shoiddst. 
 He will be entreated, if thou wouldst be prevailed with to 
 entreat his favour with thy whole heart. 
 
 And that thou mayst, and not throw away thy soul and so 
 great a hope, through mere sloth and loathness to be at some 
 pains for thy life, let the text, which hath been thy directory 
 about the things that belong to thy peace, be also thy motive, 
 as it gives thee to behold the Son of God weeping over such 
 as would not know those things. Shall not the Redeemer's 
 tears move thee ? hard heart ! consider what these tears 
 import to this purpose : — 
 
 First, They signify the real depth and greatness of the 
 misery into which thou art falling. They drop from an 
 intellectual and most comprehensive eye, that sees far and 
 pierces deep into things, — hath a wide and large prospect, 
 takes the compass of that forlorn state into which unreconcil- 
 able sinners are hastening in all the horror of it. The Son
 
 WEPT OVER LOST SOULS. 343 
 
 of God did not weep vain and causeless tears or for a light 
 matter ; nor did lie for himself either spend his own or 
 desire the profusion of others' tears : " Weep not for me, 
 daughters of Jerusalem," etc. He knows the value of 
 souls : the weight of guilt, and how low it will press and 
 sink them ; the severity of God's justice and the power of 
 his anger, and what the fearful effects of them will be when 
 they finally fall. If thou understandest not these things 
 thyself, believe him that did, — at least believe his tears. 
 
 Secondly, They signify the sincerity of his love and pity, 
 the truth and tenderness of his compassion. Canst thou 
 think his deceitfid tears ? his, who never knew guile ? Was 
 this like the rest of his course ? And remember that he who 
 shed tears, did, from the same fountain of love and mercy, 
 shed blood too ! Was that also done to deceive ? Thou 
 makest thyself some very considerable thing indeed, if thou 
 thinkest the Son of God counted it worth his while to weep, 
 and bleed, and die, to deceive thee into a false esteem of 
 him and his love. But if it be the greatest madness ima- 
 ginable to entertain any such thought, but that his tears 
 were sincere and inartificial, the natural, genuine expressions 
 of undissembled benignity and pity, thou art then to consider 
 what love and compassion thou art now sinning against, what 
 bowels thou spurnest ; and that if thou perishest, it is imder 
 such guilt as the devils themselves are not liable to, who 
 never had a Redeemer bleeding for them, nor, that we ever 
 find, weeping over them. 
 
 Thirdly, They show the remedilessness of thy case if thou 
 persist in impenitency and imbelief till the things of thy 
 peace be quite hid from thine eyes. These tears will then be 
 the last issues of even defeated love, — of love that is frus- 
 trated of its kind design. Thou maj^st perceive in these 
 tears the stead}", unalterable laws of heaven, the inflexibleness 
 of the Divine justice, that holds thee in adamantine bonds, 
 and hath sealed thee up, if thou prove incurably obstinate 
 and impenitent, unto perdition ; so that even the Redeemer 
 himself, he that is mighty to save, cannot at length save thee.
 
 o44 THE redeemer's TEARS W^PT OYER LOST SOULS. 
 
 but only weep over tliee, drop tears into thy flame, — which 
 assuage it not, bvit (though they have another design, even 
 to express true compassion,) do yet unavoidably heighten 
 and increase the fervour of it, and will do so to all eternity. 
 He even tells thee, sinner, ' Thou hast despised my blood ; 
 thou shalt yet have my tears. That would have saved thee, 
 • — these do only lament thee lost ! ' 
 
 But the tears wept over others as lost and past hope, why 
 shoidd they not yet melt thee, while as yet there is hope in 
 thy case ? If thou be effectually melted in thy very soul, and 
 looking to Him whom thou hast pierced, dost truly mourn 
 over him, thou mayst assvire thyself the prospect his weeping 
 eye had of lost souls did not include thee. His weeping over 
 thee would argue thy case forlorn and hopeless ; thy mourning 
 over him will make it safe and happy. That it may be so, 
 consider further, that, — 
 
 Fourthly, They signify how very intent he is to save souls, 
 and how gladly he would save thine, if yet thou wilt accept 
 of mercy while it may be had. For if he weep over them 
 that will not be saved, from the same love that is the spring 
 of these tears would saving mercies proceed to those that are 
 become willing to receive them. And that love that wept 
 over them that were lost, how will it glory in them that are 
 saved ! There his love is disappointed and vexed, crossed in 
 its gracious intendment ; but here, having compassed it, how 
 will he "joy over thee with singing, and rest in his love!" 
 And thou also, instead of being involved in a like ruin with 
 the unreconciled sinners of the old Jerusalem, shalt be 
 enrolled among the glorious citizens of the new, and triumph 
 together with them in eternal glory !
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Because some things, not fit to be wholly omitted, were as 
 little fit to come into the body of a practical discourse, it 
 was thought requisite to subjoin here the following additions, 
 that will severally have reference to distinct parts of the 
 foregoing discourse. 
 
 As to what was said of the unreasonableness and ill con- 
 sequence of admitting it to be any man's duty to believe 
 himself utterly rejected and forsaken of God, inasmuch as 
 it would make that his duty which were repugnant to his 
 felicity ; — this is to be evinced by a consideration which also, 
 even apart by itself, were not without its own great weight ; 
 namel}'', that such a belief were inconsistent icifh his former 
 stated and known duty ; it were therefore inconsistent with his 
 felicity, inasmuch as it would make that duty impossible to 
 be performed, which before was by constitution of the evan- 
 gelical law made necessary to it, — namely, "repentance to- 
 wards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." The hope 
 of acceptance is so necessary to both these, that the belief of 
 a man's being finally rejected or that he shall never Jbe 
 accepted, cannot but make them both impossible, equally 
 impossible as if he were actually in hell, — as much impos- 
 sible to him as to the devils themselves. Nor is this impos- 
 sibility merely from a moral impotency, or that obduration of 
 heart which were confessedly vicious and his great sin, but 
 from the natural influence of that belief of his being for ever 
 rejected, which, upon the mentioned supposition, were his 
 
 Q 3
 
 346 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 duty. Besides, inasmucli as it is the known duty of a sinner 
 under the gospel to turn to God through Christ ; and it is 
 also declared in the same gospel — sufficiently to make it the 
 common matter of faith to Christians — that none can of 
 themselves turn to God and believe in his Son, without the 
 help of special efficacious grace ; it must hereupon be a man's 
 duty also to pray for that grace which may enable him 
 hereto. How deep in wickedness was Simon Magus, even 
 in "the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity," when yet 
 Peter calls him to repentance and puts him upon praying for 
 forgiveness, — which must implj^ also his praying for the grace 
 to repent ; but how can a man pray for that which, at the 
 same time, he believes shall not be given him ? Yea, and 
 which is harder and more unaccountable, how can he stand 
 obliged in duty to pray for that which, at the same time, he 
 stands obliged in duty to believe he shall not obtain ? How 
 can these two contrary obligations lie upon a man at the 
 same time ? or, is he to look upon the former as ceased ? 
 Should he reckon the gospel as to him repealed, or his 
 impenitency and infidelity, even when they are at the highest, 
 no sins ? 
 
 I know it is obvious to object, as to all this, the case of the 
 nnpardonahJe hiasphem)/ agaim^t ihe Holy Ghost, which will be 
 supposed to be stated and determined in the sacred Scrip- 
 tures ; and being so, the person that hath committed it may 
 equally be thought obliged — by a mixed assent, partly of 
 faith to what is written, partly of self-knowledge, which he 
 ought to have of his own acts and state — to conclude himself 
 guilty of it ; whereupon all the former inconvenience and 
 difficidty will be liable to be urged as above. But even as 
 to this also, I see not but it may fitly enough be said that 
 though the general nature of that sin be stated and suffi- 
 ciently determined in thcsi, yet that God hath not left it 
 determinable in hypothesi, by any particular person, that he 
 hath committed it. For admit that it generally lies in 
 . imputing to the devil those works of the Holy Ghost by 
 which the truth of Christianity was to be demonstrated, I
 
 APPENDIX. 347 
 
 yet see not liow any man can apply this to his own particular 
 case, so as justl}^ and certainly to conclude himself guilty of 
 it. I take it for granted none will ever take the notion of 
 blasphemy in that strictness, but that a man may possibly be 
 guilty of this sin as well in thought as by speech. I also doubt 
 not but it will be acknowledged on all hands that prejvidice 
 and malice against Christianity must have a great ingre- 
 diency into this sin ; not such malice as whereby, knowing it 
 to be the true religion, a man hates and detests it as such, — 
 which would suppose these Pharisees whom our Saviour 
 charges with it or cautions against it, to have been at that 
 time, in their judgments and consciences, Christians ; but 
 such malignity and strong prejudice as darkens and obstructs 
 his mind, that he judges it not to be true, against the 
 highest evidence of its being so. It will also be acknow- 
 ledged that some enmity and disaffection to true religion is 
 common to all men, more especially in their unregeneracy 
 and unconverted state. 
 
 Now, let it be supposed that some person or other, of a 
 very unwarrantably sceptical genius, had opportiuiity to know 
 certainly the matter of fact touching the miraculous works 
 wrought by our Savioiu', and understood withal somewhat 
 generally of the doctrine which he taught ; and that he sets 
 himself as a philosopher to consider the case. Suppose that, 
 partly through prejudice against the holy design of Christi- 
 anity, whereof there is some degree in all, and partly through 
 shortness of discourse, not having thoroughly considered the 
 matter ; he thinks it possible that some demon or other, with 
 design under a specious pretence to impose upon or amuse 
 the credulous vulgar, may have done all those strange things ; 
 suppose his judgment should for the present more incline this 
 way : what if, thinking this to be the case in the instance of 
 Apollonius Tyanoeus, he hath not yet, upon a slighter view, 
 discerned enough to distinguish them, but thinks alike of both 
 cases? yea, and suppose he have spoken his sentiments to 
 some or other ; — perhaps upon further inquir^^ and search, 
 he might see cause to alter his judgment ; and now, setting
 
 f348 APPENDIX. 
 
 himself to inquire more narrowly, lie perceives the unexcep- 
 tionable, excellent scope and tendency of our Saviour's 
 doctrine and precepts, considers the simplicity and purity of 
 his life, contemplates further the awful greatness of his 
 mighty works ; but amidst these his deliberations, he finds 
 amonsr the rest of Christian constitutions this severe one,^ and 
 begins to fear lest, supposing the truth of this excellent 
 , religion, he have precluded himself of all the advantages of 
 '^t by that former judgment of his : — what is he to do in this 
 aase ? what were he to be advised imto ? What ! to pass 
 judgment upon himself and his case as desperate? or not 
 rather to humble himself before the God of heaven, ask 
 pardon for his injurious, rash judgment, and supplicate for 
 mercy, and for further illumination in the mj^stery of Grod, of 
 the Father, and of Christ ? Which course, that it may have 
 a blessed issue with him, who dare venture to deny or doubt ? 
 And -what have we to say hereupon, but that, in great wisdom 
 and mercy, our Saviour hath only told us there is such a sia, 
 and what the general nature of it is, or whereabouts it lies ; 
 but the judgment of particular cases wherein, or of the very 
 pitch and degree of malignity wherewith, it is committed, he 
 hath reserved to himself; intending further to strive with 
 persons by his Spirit, while he judges them yet within the 
 reach of mercy, — or withhold it, when he sees any to have 
 arrived to that culminating pitch of malignity and obstinacy 
 wherein he shall judge this sin specially to consist ? And 
 what inconvenience is it to suppose he hath left this matter, 
 touching the degree, humanly undeterminable ? The know- 
 ledge of it can do them who have committed it no good ; and 
 probably they have by it so blinded and stupified their own 
 souls, as to have made themselves very little capable of 
 apprehending that they have committed it, or of considering 
 whether they have or no ; but they are sunk into a deep 
 abyss of darkness and death, so as that sucli knowledge may 
 be as little possible as it vv^ould be useful to them, — all their 
 faculties of intellection, consideration, and self- reflection, 
 1 Matt. xii. 31, 32.
 
 APPENDIX. 349 
 
 being, as to any such exercise, bound up in a stupifying, 
 dead sleep. 
 
 And to wbat purpose should they have a rule by which to 
 determine a case, who, — 1. Can receive no benefit by the 
 determination ; and, 2. Who are supposed, when they are to 
 use it, to have no faculty sufficiently apt to make this sad but 
 true judgment of their case by it ? But for them who have 
 not committed it, and who are consequently yet capable of 
 benefit by what should be made known about it, there is 
 therefore enough made known for their real use and benefit. 
 It will,— 
 
 1. Be of real use to many such to know their danger of 
 running into it. And it is sufficient to that purpose that they 
 are plainly told wherein the general nature of it consists or 
 whereabouts it lies ; without showing them the very point 
 that hath certain death in it, or letting them know just how 
 near they may approach it without being sure to perish, 
 when there is danger enough in every step they take toward 
 it : as if there were some horrid desert, into any part whereof 
 no man hath any business to come, but in some part whereof 
 there is a dreadful gulf whence arises a contagious halitus} 
 which, if he come within the verge of it, will be certainly 
 poisonous and mortal to him : what need is there that any 
 man should know just how near he may come, without being 
 sure to die for it ? He is concerned to keep himself at a 
 cautious, awful distance. 
 
 2. It rnay be of great use to others that are afflicted 
 with very torturing fears lest they have committed it, to 
 know that they have not. And they have enough also to 
 satisfy them in the case. For their very fear itself, with its 
 usual concomitants in such afflicted minds, is an argument to 
 them that they have not. While they find in themselves any 
 value of Divine favour, any dread of his wrath, any disposition 
 to consider the state of their souls, with any thought or 
 design of turning to God and making their peace, they have 
 reason to conclude God hath hitherto kept them out of that 
 
 1 Vapour.
 
 350 APPE>:mx. 
 
 fearful gulf, and is yet in tlie way, and in treaty witli them. 
 For since " we are not sufficient to think anything that is 
 good of ourselves," it is much more reasonable to ascribe any 
 such thoughts or agitations of spirit that have this design, to 
 him than to ourselves, and to account that he is yet at work 
 with us, — at least in the way of common grace ; though when 
 our thoughts drive towards a conclusion against ourselves 
 that we have committed that sin and towards despair there- 
 upon, we are to apprehend a mixture of temptation in them, 
 which we are concerned earnestly to watch and pray against. 
 And yet even such temptation is an argument of such a one's 
 not having committed that sin. For such as the devil may 
 apprehend more likely to have committed it, — and it is not to 
 be thovight he can be sure who have,- — he will be less apt to 
 trouble with such thoughts, not knowing what the issue of 
 that unquietness may prove and apprehending it may oc- 
 casion their escaping quite out of his snare. And I do con- 
 ceive this to be a safer method of satisfying such as are 
 perplexed with this fear in our days, than to be positive in 
 stating that sin 80, or limiting it to mch circumstances, as shall 
 make it impossible to be committed in this age of the world. 
 For let it be seriously considered, whether it be altogether an 
 unsupposable thing, that with some in our days there may 
 be an equivalency, in point of light and evidence of the truth 
 of Christianity, unto what these Jews had, whom our Saviour 
 warns of the danger of this sin, at that time when he so 
 warned them. His warning and cautioning them about it, 
 implies that he judged them at least in a possibility at that 
 time of incurring the guilt of it ; if the text ^ do not also 
 imply that he reckoned them then actually to have committed 
 it. For it is said, " he knew their thoughts,"^ — that is, 
 considered the temper of their minds ; and thereupon said to 
 them what follows concerning it. Let us consider wherein 
 their advantage towards their being ascertained of the truth of 
 the Christian religion was greater than we now can have. It 
 was chiefly in this respect greater, that they had a nearer and 
 
 1 Matt. xii. - Ver. 25.
 
 APPENDIX. 351 
 
 more immediate knowledge of the matter of feet, wherein 
 that evidence which our Saviour refers to did consist. A 
 more immediate way of knowing it they had ; the most im- 
 mediate the persons whom he warns or charges seem not to 
 have had : for those Pharisees, it is said, heard of the cure 
 of the demoniac, — not that they saw it. They took it upon 
 the — no doubt sufficient!}^ credible — report of others. Now 
 let it be further considered, what we have to balance this one 
 single advantage. We have, to intelligent, considering per- 
 sons, rationally sufficient evidence of the same matter of fact. 
 But how great things, that have since followed, have we the 
 sufficiently certain knowledge of besides, beyond what they 
 had in view, at that time ; as, the wonderful death of our 
 Lord, exactly according to prediction, in many respects, 
 together with all the imforetold amazing circumstances that 
 attended it ; his more wonderful resurrection, upon which so 
 great a stress is laid for demonstrating the truth of the 
 religion he taught ; the destruction of Jerusalem, as he fore- 
 told, and the shattered condition of the Jewish nation, as 
 was also foretold, ever since ; the strange success of the 
 gospel in the first and some following ages, by so unlikely 
 means, against the greatest opposition imaginable, both of 
 Jews and Pagans ; not to insist on the apostasy foretold in 
 the Christian church, with many more things that might be 
 mentioned. Let it be considered, whether the want of so 
 immediate way of knowing some of these things be not 
 abundantly compensated by the greatness of the other things 
 that are, however, sufficiently known. And if such as have 
 wit and leisure to consider these things in our days, are often 
 pressed to consider them, have them frequently represented 
 and laid before their eyes, — if such, I sa}^ have in view as 
 great evidence, upon the whole, of the truth of Christianit}^, 
 as these Pharisees had ; it is then further to be considered, 
 whether it be not possible that some such may equal the 
 Jewish malice against the holy design of our religion. To 
 which I only say. The Lord grant that none may. But if 
 there be really cause to apprehend such a danger, some other
 
 352 APPENDIX. 
 
 way should be thought of to cure the trouble of some, than 
 by the danger and too probable ruin of others. However, 
 none should themselves make their own case incurable, by 
 concluding that they have sinned that sin, or by believing 
 they are otherwise forsaken and rejected of God, so as that 
 he will never more assist their endeavour to repent and turn 
 to him through the Mediator. 
 
 If it be inquired here, ' Since, as hath been shown, some 
 may be quite forsaken of God while yet they live in the 
 world, ought such to believe then they are not forsaken, and 
 so believe an untruth that they may make it true, or try if 
 they can better their condition by it ? ' I answer, Nor that 
 neither ; for that God will further assist an obstinate sinner 
 that hath long resisted his Spirit and despised his mercy, 
 is 710 matter of promise to him, and so no matter of faith. 
 When he doth conquer at length any such, it is of mere un- 
 promised favour (as was also shown) ; whereof, therefore, he 
 gives others no ground to despair, and for which they are 
 deeply concerned with great earnestness to supplicate. But 
 if it be said, 'How can they pray for that whereof they have 
 no promise, and can have no faith, since what is not of faith 
 is sin ? ' ^ I answer, That passage of Scripture would in this 
 case be much misapplied. It speaks not of faith concerning 
 the certainty of any event to he expected, but the lanfulness of a 
 work to he done ; and of doubting, not concerning the event, 
 but my own act. Can any man in his wits doubt concerning 
 his own act in this case, whether it be better to pray for the 
 grace of God to save him, than slight it and perish ? Nor 
 are they without very encouraging promises concerning the 
 event, that God will be " a rewarder of them that diligently 
 seek him,"^ and that " whosoever shall call upon the name of 
 the Lord shall be saved; "^ — which promises, it is true, the 
 context of both shows, do speak of believing prayer. They 
 are to faith, not of it ; and import that God will reward and 
 save the believer, not that he will give faithto the obstinate, 
 contemptuous unbeliever. If he do this, it is, as was said, of 
 ' Eom. xiv. 23. - Hcb. xi. G. ^ r^ym. x. 13.
 
 APPENDIX. 353 
 
 unpromised bounty- But though, they are not promises to 
 give faith, they should induce it ; and incline sinners to cast 
 themselves down before the throne of so gracious a God and 
 seek grace to help them in their need, in confidence that he 
 will never reject penitent, believing prayer. They, indeed, 
 that for their former wilful sinning are utterely forsaken of 
 God, will not thus apply themselves. But our question is, 
 not what they will do, but what they should. Because they 
 would not, therefore they were forsaken ; and because they 
 yet will not, they are still and finally forsaken. Their refusal 
 pi'oceeds not from any discouragement God hath given them, 
 but from' the malignity of their own hearts. God hath not 
 repealed his gospel towards them. The connection continues 
 firm between the preceptive and promissory parts of it. Their 
 infidelity is not become their duty, but remains their heinous 
 sin ; and the more deeply heinous by how much their own 
 malignity holds them more strongly in it. 
 
 Unto what also is discoursed (page 318) concerning anger 
 and grief or other passions ascribed to God, it will not be unfit 
 here to add, that unless they be allowed to signify real 
 aversion of will, no account is to be given Khat reaJitij in him 
 they can signify at all. Tor to say — what some do seem to 
 satisfy themselves with — that they are to be understood 
 ' in relation to the cfect produced, not as implying any 
 analogous affection,' ^ though true as to the negative part, is as 
 to the affirmative very defective and short ; for the efiects of 
 anger and grief, upon which those names are put, when 
 spoken of God, are not themselves in him, but in us. But 
 we are stiU at a loss what they signify in him. Such efiects 
 must have some cause. And if they be efiects which he works, 
 they must have some cause in himself that is before them 
 and productive of them. This accoimt leaves us to seek what 
 that cause is that is signified by these names. That it cannot 
 be any passion, as the same names are wont to signify with 
 us, is out of question. Nor, indeed, do those names primarily 
 and most properly signify passion in ourselves. The passion 
 ' ' Secuntluin effectuni, non secundum afFectuin.'
 
 354 APPENDIX. 
 
 is consequently only, by reason of that inferior nature in us 
 which is susceptible of it. But the aversion of our mind and 
 will is before it, and, in another subject, very separable from 
 it, and possible to be without it. In the blessed God we 
 cannot imderstand anything less is signified than real dis- 
 placency at the things whereat he is said to be angry or 
 grieved. 
 
 Our shallow reason, indeed, is apt to suggest in these 
 matters, ' VThj is not that prevented that is so displeasing ? ' 
 And it would be said with equal reason, in reference to all 
 sin permitted to be in the world, ' Why was it not pre- 
 vented ? ' And what is to be said to this ? Shall it be said 
 that sin doth not displease God, that he hath no will against 
 sin, it is not repugnant to his will ? Yes ; it is to his revealed 
 will, — to his law. But is that an untrue revelation ? His 
 law is not his will itself, but the signum, the " sign," the dis- 
 covery of his will. Now, is it an insignificant sign, a sign 
 that signifies nothing, or to which there belongs no corre- 
 spondent signiJicatHm, — noihing that is signified by it ? Is that 
 which is signified — for sure no one will say it signifies 
 nothing — his real will, yea or no ? Who can deny it ? That 
 will then, — and a most calm, sedate, impassionate will it 
 must be understood to be, — sin, and consequently the con- 
 sequent miseries of his creatures, are repugnant unto. And 
 what will is that ? It is not a peremptory will concerning 
 the event, for the event falls out otherwise, which were upon 
 that supposition impossible ; " for who hath resisted his 
 wiU ? " as was truly intimated by the personated questionist,^ 
 but impertinently, when God's will of another, not a contrary, 
 kind — that is, concerning another object — was in the same 
 breath referred unto ; " Why doth he yet find fault ? " It is 
 not the will of the event that is the measure of faultiness : 
 for then there could not have been sin in the world, nor con- 
 sequently misery, which only by the Creator's pleasure stands 
 connected with it : for nothing could fall out against that 
 irresistible will. The objector then destroys his own objec- 
 
 » Eom. ix. 19.
 
 APPENDIX. 355 
 
 tion so absurdly and so manifestly as not to deserve any other 
 reply than that which he meets with, *'Nay but, man, 
 who art thou that repliest against God?" 
 
 And what is the other object about which the Divine will 
 is also conversant ? Matter of duty, and — what stands in con- 
 nection with it, not abstractly and separately, but as it is so 
 connected — our felicity. This is objectively another will, as 
 we justly distinguish Divine acts that respect the creature by 
 their different objects. Against this will falls out all the sin 
 and misery in the world. 
 
 All this seems plain and clear, but is not enough. For it 
 may be further said, When God wills this or that to be m}^ 
 duty, doth he not will this event, namely my doing it ? 
 Otherwise wherein is his will withstood, or not fulfilled, in 
 my not doing it ? He willed this to be my duty, and it is 
 so. I do not, nor can hinder it from being so ; yet I do it 
 not, and that he willed not. If all that his will meant was 
 that this should be my duty, but my doing it was not intended, 
 his will is entirely accomplished ; it hath its full effect, in 
 that such things are constituted and do remain my duty, 
 upon his signification of this his will ; my not doing it not 
 being within the compass of the object or the thing willed. 
 
 If it be said, ' He willed my doing it, that is, that I should 
 do it, not that I shall ; ' the same answer will recur, namely, 
 that his will hath still its full effect, — this efiPect still remain- 
 ing, that I should do it ; but that I shall, he willed not. 
 
 It may be said, ' I do plainly go against his will, however ; 
 for his will was that I should do so or so, and I do not what 
 he willed I should.' It is true, I go herein against his will, 
 if he willed not only my obligation, but my action according to 
 it. And, indeed, it seems altogether unreasonable and unin- 
 telligible, that he should will to oblige me to that which he 
 doth not will me to do. 
 
 Therefore it seems out of question, that the holy God doth 
 constantly and perpetually, in a true sense, will universal 
 obedience, and the consequent felicity of all his creatures 
 capable thereof; that is, he doth will it with simple com-
 
 356 APPENDIX. 
 
 placency, as what were liiglily grateful to him, simply consi- 
 dered by itself. Who can doubt but that purity, holiness, 
 blessedness, wheresover the}^ were to be beheld among his 
 creatures, would be a pleasing and delightful spectacle to 
 him, being most agreeable to the perfect excellency, purity, 
 and benignity of his own nature ; and that their deformity 
 and misery must be consequently unpleasing ? But he doth 
 not cfficacionshj will everything that he trnhj wills. He 
 never willed the obedience of all his intelligent creatures, so 
 as effectually to make them all obey, nor their happiness, so 
 as to make them all be happy, as the event shows. Nothing 
 can be more certain than that he did not so will these 
 things; for then nothing could have fallen out to the con- 
 trary, as we see much hath. Nor is it at all unworthy the 
 love and goodness of his nature not so to have willed, with 
 that effective will, the universal fulness, sinlessness, and 
 felicity of all Ins intelligent creatures. The Divine nature 
 comprehends all excellencies in itself, and is not to be limited 
 to that one only of benignity or an aptness to acts of bene- 
 ficence ; for then it were not infinite, not absolutely perfect, 
 and so not divine. All the acts of his will must be conse- 
 quently conform and agreeable to the most perfect wisdom. 
 He "doth all things according to the counsel of his will." 
 He wills, it is true, the rectitude of our actions, and what 
 would be consequent thereto ; but he first and more princi- 
 pally wills the rectitude of his own, and not only not to do 
 an unrighteous, b\it not an inept or unfit thing. We find he 
 did not think it fit efiicaciously to provide concerning all 
 men that they should be made obedient and happy, as he 
 hath concerning some. That in the general he makes a 
 difference, is to be attributed to his wisdom ; that is, his 
 wisdom hath in the general made this determination, not to 
 deal with all alike, and so we find it ascribed to his wisdom 
 that he doth make a difference. And in what a transport is 
 the holy apostle in the contemplation and celebration of it 
 upon this account, "■ the depth of the riches both of the 
 wisdom and knowledj^e of God! how unsearchable are his
 
 APPENDIX 357 
 
 judgments, and his ways past finding out ! " ^ But now, 
 when in particular he comes to make this difference between 
 one person and another, there being no reason in the object to 
 determme him this way more than that, his designing some 
 for the objects of special favour and waiving others as to 
 such special favour, when all were in themselves alike ; in 
 that case wisdom hath not so proper an exercise, but it is the 
 work of free, unobliged sovereignty here to make the choice : 
 " Having predestinated us imto the adoption of children by 
 Jesus Christ to himself, according to the. good pleasure of his 
 
 Yet, in the meantime, while God doth not efficaciously will 
 all men's obedience introductive of their happiness, doth it 
 follow he wills it not really at all ? To say he wills it effica- 
 ciously, were to contradict experience and his AVord ; to say 
 he wills it not really, were equally to contradict his Word. 
 He doth will it, but not primarily and as the more principal 
 object of his "«t.11, so as to effect it notwithstanding what- 
 soever unfitness he apprehends in it, — namely, that he so 
 overpower all as to make them obedient and happy. He 
 really wills it, but hath greater reasons than this or that 
 man's salvation why he effects it not. And this argues no 
 imperfection in the Divine will, but the perfection of it, that 
 he wills things agreeably to the reasonableness and fitness 
 of them. 
 
 } liom. xi. 33. -' Epli. i. o.
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 COXCERNINfi THE 
 
 EEDEEMEE'S DOMINION OVER THE 
 INVISIBLE WOELD, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 ENTRANCE THEEEINTO BY DEATH. 
 
 SOME PART WHEREOF WAS PREACHED ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF JOHN 
 HOGHTON, ESQ., ELDEST SON OF SIR CHARLES HOGHTON, OF HOGHTON 
 TOWER, IN THE COUNTY OF LANCASTER, BARONET.
 
 TO THE MOST DESERVEDLY HONOURED AND TRULY HONOURABLE 
 
 SIR CHARLES AND THE LADY MARY HOGHTON, 
 
 OF HOGHTON TQ-VTER. 
 
 Grace, mercy, and peace, etc. 
 
 You will, I know, count it no indecency, that, when God hath so 
 nearly, many years ago, joined you in relation, in affection, and 
 now so lately, in the affliction, equally common to you both, I do 
 also join your names on the same paj^er, and make this solemn 
 address to you together. 
 
 It is by the inestimable favour of Heaven, that the mutual 
 interest God hath given you in each other, as it obliges, doth also, 
 as I have great reason to hope, effectually dispose and enable you, 
 so, not only to partake in the comforts, but in the sorrows that are 
 common to you both, as that the former shall be greatly increased 
 and the latter proportionably allayed and mitigated thereby. Thus 
 is the advantage of youi- conjugal state both represented in God's 
 designation and apprehended in your own experience. 
 
 And you are to consider the blessing of God herein, as having 
 a peculiarity in it ; not being extended to all so related, neither to 
 all that were great in this world, nor to all that were pious and 
 good. Great worldly felicity hath been rendered insipid and 
 spii'itless, great calamities much the more bitter, by the want 
 of a meet mutual helpfulness between such relations. 
 
 A great and a good man in his time, a prince (as he is thought to 
 have been) in his country, a man that " was perfect and upright, one 
 that feared God and eschewed evil," ^ when he lost — not one, not 
 
 1 Job i. ]. 
 VOL. II. a
 
 362 THE DEDICATION. 
 
 the eldest only, of his numerous offspring, as you have — but all at 
 once, seven sons and three daughters, with such concomitant cir- 
 cumstances of accumulated afflictions, as, blessed be God, are not in 
 your case ; and might now expect some relief, from his other self, 
 the nearest and most inward companion of his life, and partaker of 
 his joys and sorrows ; — all the succour he hath from her, was an 
 impious endeavour to provoke and irritate his spirit, that taunting 
 scoff, " Dost thou still retain thy integrity ] " and that horrid 
 advice, " Curse God, and die." Whereas that rational, religious, 
 sovil-composing thought, " Shall we receive good things at the hand 
 of God, and not also evil things ? " was deeply fixed in the mind of 
 the one, how much more effectually relieving had it been, if it had 
 circulated between both the relatives ; and they had, alternately, 
 propounded and enlarged upon it to one another ! 
 
 With you, I cannot doubt, it hath been so ; and that you have 
 made it your business to improve your mutual interest, not to 
 aggravate, but to alleviate, your affliction each to other. 
 
 You have, both of you, great occasion and obligation, to revolve 
 and recount to each other the many good things you have received 
 at the hand of God, to mitigate what there is of evil in this 
 dispensation. 
 
 Both of you have sprung of religious and honourable families, 
 favoured of God, valued, and beloved in the countries where he 
 had planted them. They have been both, seats of religion, and of 
 the worship of God ; the resorts of his servants ; houses of mercy 
 to the indigent, of justice to the vicious, of patronage to the sober 
 and virtuous; of good example, to all about them. 
 
 You were both dedicated to God early, and he gave early testi- 
 mony of his accepting the dedication. He began with you both 
 betimes, blessing your education and owning you for his, by dis- 
 posing and forming your spirits to own betimes the God of your 
 fathers. He hath blessed you indeed, adding the spiritiial blessings 
 in heavenly things, to your many earthly comforts, — which Jabez 
 might mean, not content with a common blessing ; and the more 
 probably from the acceptance he found. ^ God granted his request, 
 as Solomon's,^ when his request was as little vulgar. 
 
 You both concurred, in the dedication of this your son, as in the 
 rest of yours ; and, I doubt not with great seriousness, you cove- 
 
 1 1 Chron. iv. 9, 10. - 1 Kings li. 10.
 
 THE DEDICATION. 363 
 
 nanted'witli God in Christ, to be his God. And if He enabled 
 you to be in good earnest herein, even that was of special grace 
 and favour ; and ought to come into the account of the many good 
 things you have received of God's hand, as "offering to God 
 willingly," did in the estimate of David : when the oblation was 
 of a meaner kind.^ 
 
 But then you ought to consider what the import and meaning 
 was of that your covenant, wherein you accejited God in Christ to 
 be the God of your son, and dedicated him to God through Christ 
 to be His. Was it not absolute and without limitation, that God 
 should be a God to him entirely and without reserve 1 and that he 
 should be His absolutely, and be disposed of by Him at his pleasure ? 
 Otherwise, there was a repugnancy and contradiction, in the very 
 terms of your covenant. To be a God to him ! Is not God the 
 name of a Being incapable of limitation 1 Doth it not signify 
 infinite imlimited power and goodness 1 To be a God to any one, 
 therefore, under restriction, is to be a God to him, and no God. 
 And so to covenant wdth God, can neither have sincerity in it nor 
 good sense. He can be under no restraint in the exercises of his 
 power and goodness towards any to whom he vouchsafes to be 
 their God in covenant, but what he is pleased to lay upon himself; 
 which must be from his own wisdom and good pleasure, to whicli 
 in covenanting we refer ourselves, — with 2^(^'>'tic'ul(t''>' faith, in 
 reference to what he hath expressly promised, and with general, 
 that all shall be well, where his promise is not express. But from 
 ourselves, nothing can be prescribed to him. He must be our aU 
 or nothing ; in point of enjoyment as our sovereign, all-compre- 
 hending Good; in point of government, as our sovereign, all- 
 disposing Lord. So we take him, in covenanting with him, for 
 ourselves and ours. For he so propounds and offers himself to us ; 
 if we accept and take him accordingly, there is a covenant between 
 him and us ; otherwise we refuse him, and there is no covenant. 
 When he promises, as to his part, he promises his all ; to be God 
 all-sufficient to us ; to be ours in all his fulness, according to our 
 measure and capacity : we are not straitened in him, but in 
 ourselves. He undertakes to be to us and do for us, all that it 
 belongs to him, as a God to be and do; to give us grace and glory — 
 about which there can be no dispute or doubt, they are always and 
 ' 1 Cki-oii. xxix. 14. 
 
 R 2
 
 364 THE DEDICATIOJf. 
 
 immutably good — and to withhold from us no good thing. ^ Here 
 are comprehended, with the former, inferior good things, about 
 which, because they are but mutably and not always good, there 
 may be a doubt whether now and in present circumstances they 
 will be good for iis or no. And now it belongs to him, as he 
 is to do the part of a God to us, to judge and determine for us : 
 for which he alone is competent as being God only wise, and other- 
 wise he were not God all-siifficieiit ; and not to leave that to ns, 
 who are so apt to be partial and mistaken in our judgment. 
 
 But when he makes his demand from us, of what we on our 
 part are to be and do, he demands our all, absolutely ; that we 
 surrender ourselves and ours, whatsoever we are and have, to his 
 pleasure and dispose, without other exception or restriction, than 
 by his promise he hath laid upon himself. 
 
 Nor are we to think it strange there should be this difference, in 
 the tenor of his covenant, between his part and ours. For we 
 are to remember, the covenant between him and us is not as of 
 equals : he covenants as God ; we, as creatures : he, according to the 
 universal infinite perfection and all-sufficiency of a God ; we, accord- 
 ing to the insufficiency, imperfection, and indigency of creatures. 
 
 These things were, I doubt not, all forekno-vvTi, and, I hope, 
 considered by you, when you so solemnly transacted with God, 
 concerning this your son ; wherein you could not but then take 
 Him for your God, as well as his God. It needs now only to be 
 applied to the present case ; and it manifestly admits this appli- 
 cation, namely : — 
 
 That this His disposal of him, in taking him now up to Himself, 
 to be glorified by Him and to glorify him in the heavenly state, 
 was a thing then agreed upon, by solemn covenant, between God 
 and you. It was done by your own virtual and unretracted con- 
 sent. The substance of the thing was agreed to exj)ressly ; that 
 God should be his God, and finally, make him happy and blessed 
 in Himself. But if you say you woidd only have had his complete 
 blessedness yet a while deferred, I will only say, could you agree 
 with that God, whose he was and whose you are, about the sub- 
 stance of so great a transaction, and now differ with Him about a 
 circumstance 1 And besides, all circumstances must be compre- 
 hended in your agreement. For taking him to be yoxu* God, you 
 ' Ps. Ixxxiv. 11.
 
 THE DEDICATION, 365 
 
 take him to be Supreme Disposer in all things, and his will to be 
 in everything the rule and measure of yours : which you have ex- 
 pressly consented to as often as you have prayed, either in the 
 words or after the tenor of that prayer, wherein our Lord hath 
 taiTght us to sum up our desires, and i-epresent the sense of our 
 hearts. 
 
 But besides the duty, that is, both by his law and by covenant 
 agreement, owing to God, it is also to be considered as a high 
 dignity put upon you, to be the covenanted parents of a glorified 
 son ; a matter of greater boast, than if you could say, ' Our son ' 
 (to repeat what I formerly wrote) ' is one of the gi-eatest princes on 
 earth !' 
 
 How far should paganism be outdone by Christianity, which 
 exhibits to our view death abolished, life and immortality 
 brought to light, by Jesus Christ in the gospel ; ^ which sets 
 before us all the glories of the other world in a bright represen- 
 tation; which if we believe, — that faith will be to us the substance 
 of what we hope for, and the evidence of what we see not ! Thus, 
 though you saw not the kind reception and abundant entrance of 
 this son of your delights into the everlasting kingdom, it will yet 
 be a thing evident to you ; and your faith will render it a great and 
 a most substantial reality. Pagans had but obscure glimmerings 
 of such things; and in such afflicting cases, when they have oc- 
 curred, comparatively lank and slender supports, yet such as were 
 not to be despised. 
 
 Should I transcribe what I find written in way of consolation by 
 Plutarch to Apollonius, upon the loss of a son, you would see what 
 would give both instruction and admiration. I shall mention some 
 passages. He praises the young person deceased, for his comeliness, 
 sobriety, piety, dutifulness towards parents, obligingness towards 
 friends ; ackjiowledges that sorrow, in the case of losing such a son, 
 hath ((fiva-iKr]}' dpxf]v) a principle in nature, and is of the things 
 that are ( ovk icp' rjjuv) not in our power, or which we cannot help ; 
 that to be destitute of it is neither possible nor fit ; that an apathy 
 or insensibleness in such a case is no more desii-able than that we 
 should endure to have a limb, a part of oui'selves, cut or torn off 
 from us without feeling it : but yet affirms that immoderate sorrow 
 
 ' 2 Tim. i. 10.
 
 36G THE DEDICATION. 
 
 Upon such an occasion is (napa <^vcnv) preternatural, and hatli a 
 pravity in it, and proceeds from a misinformed mind : that we ought 
 in any such case to be neither [attaOeh nor bv(nra6eh) unaffected 
 nor ill affected. He tells his friend a story — the meaning whereof 
 is more considerable to us than the credit of it, as perhaps it was 
 to him — concerning two Grecian yoxiths, Cleobis and Biton, whose 
 mother having a duty to perform in the temple of Juno, and the 
 mules not being at hand, in the instant when she expected them, 
 to draw her chariot thither, they most officiously drew it them- 
 selves ; with which act of piety their mother was so transported 
 that she made her request to Juno on their behalf, that if there 
 were anything more desirable unto mortals than othei", she would 
 therewith reward her sons ; who thereupon threw them into a 
 sleep, out of which they awaked no more : thereby signifying that 
 death was the best gift that could be bestowed vipon persons of 
 such supposed piety as they ! 
 
 To which purjjose, is what he relates concei'ning the death of 
 Euthynous, an Italian, referred to towards the close of the follow- 
 ing discourse, son and heir to the ample estate of Elysius, a person 
 of principal dignity among the Terinseans : to whom anxiously 
 ijiquiring of diviners, concerning the cause of this calamity, the 
 spectre of his son, introduced by the father of the latter, appeared 
 in his sleep, showing him certain Greek verses, the sum whereof 
 was, 'Thy inquiry was foolish.' 
 
 * The minds of men are vain : Euthynous rests by a kindly decreed death, 
 Because his living longer had neither been good for him nor his parents.' 
 
 He afterwards adds, ' A good man, when he dies, is worthy not 
 so much of lamentations, as of hymns and praises.' 
 
 He animadverts upon the aptness of parents to quaiTel with any 
 circumstances of a son's death, be they what they wiM. If he die 
 abroad, then the aggravation is, that neither the father nor the 
 mother had opportunity to close his eyes; if at home, then how 
 is he plucked away, even out of our hands ! 
 
 He gives divers memorable instances of sundry great persons 
 bearing with sti'ange composure of mind, the same kind of affliction. 
 I omit what he wrote to his wife on their loss of a child ; as also 
 to recite many very instructive passages out of Seneca writing to 
 Marcia on the same account, namely by way of consolation for her
 
 THE DEDTCATTON. 367 
 
 loss of a son ; and to Helvia, for her loss in tlie same kind ; to 
 Polybius, having lost a near relation, etc. 
 
 But we have the oracles of God, and do, too commonly, less need 
 to receive instruction from heathens than deserve to be reproached 
 by them. That there is so frequent cause for the complaint of that 
 ancient worthy ^ in the Christian Church, ' Non prsestat fides quod 
 prsestitit infidelitas ; ' ' The infidelity of pagans performs greater 
 things than the faith of Christians.' Their sedate temper, their 
 mastery over turbulent passions, may, in many instances, shame 
 our impotency and want of self-government, in like cases. 
 
 For who of them have ever had, or could have so great a thing 
 to say, as is said to us by the word of the Lord ; for this very pur- 
 pose, " that we may not sorrow concerning them that are asleep, 
 even as others who have no hope :" that is, " If we believe that 
 Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in 
 Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you" 
 — and it is said by the forementioned authority, the Lord himself 
 having revealed it to this great apostle, and directed him to say it — 
 " that we who are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord 
 shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself 
 shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the 
 archangel, and with the trump of God : and the dead in Christ 
 shall rise first : then we which are alive and remain shall be 
 caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in 
 the air : and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore com- 
 fort one another with these words." ^ 
 
 I have transcribed these few verses, that they might readily 
 appear to present view : and because all their efficacy and all our 
 advantage by them depends upon our believing them, let us 
 closely put the question to ourselves, ' Do we believe them 1 or do 
 we not 1 ' The apostle seems to design the putting us upon this 
 self-reflection by inserting the supposition, "If we believe,"' — as 
 much as to say, This will efiectually do the business of allaying 
 all our hopeless sorrow. For, if we believe that one fundamental 
 truth — and therefore let us see whether we do or no — of Christ's 
 dying and rising again, it will draw such a train of consequences, 
 .all tending to fill our souls with a vital joy, as will leave no place for 
 
 1 Hierom. 2 1 xhess. iv. 13—18. » Ver. 14.
 
 368 THE DEDICATION. 
 
 undue sorrow any longer. That faith will be still urging and 
 carrying us forward ; will make us wholly intent upon prospect and 
 expectation. "What are we now to look for upon such a foundation, 
 so firmly laid and fully believed 1 If we believe that Jesus died ! 
 He did not submit to die, without a design ; and his rising again 
 speaks him master of his design, and that he hath it now entirely 
 in his power. He died not for himself, but for them he was to 
 redeem ! And being now risen again, what must become of them 1 
 All that follows is now matter of glorious trium])h. 
 
 If Plato, Plutarch, or Seneca had but once had such a revela- 
 tion from heaven as this, and had that ground to believe it that we 
 have, how full would their writings have been of it ! How had 
 they abounded in lofty paraphrases, upon every period and word 
 of it! 
 
 The faith of such things would surely make a truly Christian 
 heart so earnestly press forward in the expectation of the great 
 things still to ensue, as to leave it little leisui-e for retrospection. 
 And this is the source of all our intemperate sorrow, in such a 
 case as this, — our framing to ourselves pleasing suppositions of 
 being as we were, with such and such fi-iends and relatives about 
 us as we heretofore enjoyed. As hope of what is future and desir- 
 able feeds our joy, so memory of good things past doth our sorrow. 
 In such a case as this, which the apostle here speaks to, the decease 
 of our dear friends and relatives " fallen asleep ; " we are apt to 
 look back, with a lingering eye, upon that former state of things : 
 and to say, as he, ' mihi prceteritos — O that God would recall 
 for me the years that are gone over ! ' Or, as in sacred language, 
 " that I were as in months past .... when the secret of God 
 was upon my tabernacle ; when the Almighty was yet with me ; 
 when my children were about me ! " ^ 
 
 What pleasant scenes do we form to ourselves, afresh, of past 
 things, on purpose to foment present sorrow ! And whether we have 
 that design or no, we are more prone to look back to former things 
 we have known, than forward to future we know not ; especially 
 if the further we look back, the less we find of trouble intermingled 
 in our former course. A smooth and pleasant path we would go 
 over again, if reason and the necessity of affairs do not recall us, 
 and urge us forward, 
 
 ' Job xxix. 2, 4, 5.
 
 THE DEDICATION^. 369 
 
 And so, Sir, miglat you find matter for a very copious and not 
 imgrateful recollection, to call over again, and revolve in your 
 thoughts, the pleasures of your youth, more innocent than of many 
 others, when you were encumbered with no cares, entertained with 
 various delights of one sort and another, in this or that pleasant 
 seat of your parents. But hovr remote is it from you, upon con- 
 sideration, to wish yourself back into your juvenile state and 
 circumstances 1 How much a more generous and God-like plea- 
 sure is it, to be doing good in the world and still to abound 
 therein, to go foi'ward, and do still more and more ! 
 
 And, Madam, who could have a more pleasant retrospect upon 
 former days, than you 1 recounting your Antrim delights ; the 
 delight you took in your excellent relations, your garden-delights, 
 your closet-delights, your Lord's-days' delights ! But how much a 
 greater thing is it to serve God in your present station, as the 
 mother of a numerous and hopeful offspring ; as the mistress of a 
 large family; where you bear your part, with your like-minded 
 consort, in supporting the interest of God and religion, and have 
 opportunity of scattering blessings round about you ! 
 
 But our business is not recurring or looking back. God is con- 
 tinually calling us foi'ward. Time is a stream, running on towards 
 the vast ocean. Tending backward, is vain striving against the 
 stream. And as it is the course and method of nature, of pro- 
 vidence, and grace, to tend forward and carry us from less to 
 greater things in this world ; so do all these conspire to carry us 
 on, — because our dKiirj, our highest pitch, cannot be here, — to yet far 
 greater things in the greater world. Of which vast world, it is 
 the design of the following discourse to give you some account; 
 though, God knows, it is but a A^ery imperfect one. Such as it is, 
 if God only make it an occasion to you of fixing your minds and 
 hearts upon that mighty theme, you will find it easy and pleasant 
 to you to amplify upon it and enlarge it to yourselves ; and 
 thereby, through God's blessing, I doubt not, arrive to a fulness of 
 satisfaction concerning this late dispensation, which hath a gloomi- 
 ness upon it ; biit is in very deed only gloomy on one side, namely, 
 downwards, and towards this wretched world, this region of sorrow 
 and darkness: but on the side upwards, and towards that other 
 world which casts its lustre upon it, its phasis and appearance will 
 be altogether bright and glorious. And the more you look by a 
 
 R 3
 
 370 THE DEDICATION. 
 
 believing intuition into that other world where our blessed 
 Redeemer and Lord bears rule in so transcendent glory, the more 
 will you be above all the cloudy darkness of this event of Provi- 
 dence towards yourselves and your family. Herein, your perusal 
 of this very defective essay may be of some use to you ; and I 
 reckoned it might be of more lasting and permanent use to you 
 and yours after you, and to as many others into whose hands it 
 might fall, as a little book than as one single sermon. 
 
 You will, however, I doubt not, apprehend in it the sincere 
 desire to assist you in this your present difficult trial ; followed by 
 the faithful endeavour of 
 
 Most honoured in the Lord, 
 
 Your very respectful and obliged servant 
 In Him, and for His sake, 
 
 JOHN HOWE. 
 
 iVay 17, 1699.
 
 THE EEDEEMEE'S DOMINION OYER THE 
 INVISIBLE WOELD. 
 
 REVELATION i. 18. 
 
 AND HAVE THE KEYS OF HELL" — HADES, OR THE UNSEEN WORLD — "AND 
 OF DEATH." 
 
 The peculiar occasion of this present solemnity, — I mean 
 that is additional to the usual business of the Lord's-day, — 
 may be somewhat amusing to narrower and less considering 
 minds ; that is, that I am now to take notice to you of what the 
 most would call the premature or untimely death of a most 
 hopeful young gentleman, — the heir of a very considerable 
 family, greatly prepared by parts and pious sentiments, and 
 further preparing by study and conversation, to be useful to 
 the age, — cut off in his prime, when the mere ' showing him ' ^ 
 to the world had begun to raise an expectation, in such as 
 knew him, of somewhat more than ordinary hereafter from 
 him, his future advantageous circumstances being considered ; 
 of which you wiU hear further towards the close of this 
 discourse. 
 
 Nor did I know any passage in the whole sacred volume, 
 more apt to serve the best and most valuable purpose in 
 such a case, than the words now read ; none more fitted to 
 enlarge our minds, to compose them, and reduce to a due 
 temper even theirs who are most concerned and most liable 
 to be disturbed ; or to instruct us all how to interpret and 
 comment aright upon so perplexing and so intricate a Pro- 
 1 Ostendimt terris liunc tanti)m fata, nee ultra esse sinunt.
 
 372 THE redeemer's DOMINIOl^r 
 
 vidence as this, at the first and slighter view, may seem 
 unto us. 
 
 In order whereto our business must be to explain and 
 apply this most weighty, awful saying. 
 
 First. For the explication, these three things are to be 
 inquired into : 
 
 Who it is that claims, and asserts to himself this power 
 here spoken of? 
 
 What it is about which this claimed power is to be con- 
 versant ? 
 
 What sort of power it is that this emblematical expression 
 signifies to belong to him ? 
 
 I. Who it is that claims the power here spoken of; 
 where the inquiry is not so much concerning the person that 
 makes this claim ; which aU the foregoing context puts out 
 of question to be " our Lord Christ : " but touching the 
 special notion and capacity wherein he claims it, and ac- 
 cording whereto it must be understood to belong to him. 
 
 And whereas he is described by very distinct titles and 
 attributes, promiscuously interwoven in the preceding verses 
 of the chapter, namely, that sometimes he is introduced 
 speaking in the style of a God, — as, "I am Alpha and 
 Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which 
 is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty ; " ^ 
 and again, "1 am Alpha and Omega," ^ — but that sometimes 
 he is represented in the form of a man, and accordingly 
 described even from " head to foot," and said to appear, in the 
 vision that exhibits him, " as one like unto the Son of man," 
 that we might certainly understand him so to be;^ and such 
 things said of him as are incident to a mortal man, the 
 shedding of his blood,^ and that " he was dead ; " ^ yea, and 
 expressions of this different import intermingled, that we 
 might know it was the same person that was continuedly 
 spoken of under these so vastly different characters, as "I 
 am the first and the last : I am he that liveth, and was 
 
 1 Kev. i. 8. 2 Ver. 11. ^ Vers. 13—16. * Ver. 5. 
 
 * Ver. 18, former part.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 373 
 
 dead:"^ — we may thereupon very reasonably conclude that 
 he is not here to be conceived under the one notion or the 
 other, neither as God nor as man, separately or exclusively 
 of each other ; but as both together, as ©eay^ptoTro?, as " God- 
 man," under which conjunct notion he receives and sustains 
 the office of our Redeemer, and Mediator between God and 
 man. 
 
 Which will enable us the more clearly to answer the third 
 inquiry, when we come to it, concerning the kind of that 
 power which is here claimed ; and which, because there can 
 be no doubt of the justice of his claim, we are hereby taught 
 to ascribe to him. 
 
 For the management whereof, we are also hence to reckon 
 him every way competent ; that he was jmr ncgotio, that it 
 was not too big for him ; no expressions being used to 
 signify his true humanity, but which are joined with others 
 as appropriate to Deity : and that nothing therefore obliges 
 us to narrow it more than the following account imports ; 
 which we are next to inquire about ; namely — 
 
 II. The large extent of the object about which the power 
 he here claims is to be conversant, that is, hades ; as we read, 
 hell, but which is truly to be read " the unseen world, and 
 death." 
 
 The former of these, we with a debasing limitation, and, 
 as I doubt not will appear, very unreasonably do render 
 " heU." 
 
 The power belonging to Christ we are elsewhere taught to 
 conceive is of unspeakably greater latitude. And here we 
 are not taught to confine it to so vile and narrow limits, as 
 this translation gives it. All things in the context conspire 
 to magnify him, and, agreeably hereto, to magnify his domi- 
 nion. When therefore the apparent design is to speak him 
 great, — that he shoidd only be represented as the jailer of 
 devils and their companions, is to me unaccountable, unless a 
 very manifest necessity did induce to it. 
 
 From the word a.hr]s, there can be no pretence for it. 
 1 Vers. 17, IS.
 
 374 THE redeemer's DOMINION" 
 
 Though it ought to be extended, it is by no means to be 
 restrained to that sense, which as it is the ignoblest, so it 
 will appear but a very small, minute part of its signification ; 
 whether we consider the literal import or the common use of 
 the word. 
 
 Literally it signifies but what we see not, or what is out of 
 our sight. 
 
 And as the word of which it is compounded signifies also 
 "to know," as well as "to see," it may further signify, that 
 state of things which lies without the compass of our know- 
 ledge, even out of the reach of our mental sight ; or con- 
 cerning which, though we are to believe what is revealed, we 
 cannot immediately or distinctly know it ; and in reference 
 whereto, therefore, we are "to wallc by faith, not by 
 sight."! 
 
 And the common use of the word hath been very agree- 
 able hereto with writers of all sorts ; that is, to signify inde- 
 finitely the unseen world ; or the state of the deceased out of 
 our world, who are, consequently, gone out of our sight, 
 whether they were good or bad ; so as not peculiarly to 
 signify " hell," or any place or state of torment only. 
 
 It were easy to abound in qviotations to this purpose, if it 
 were either needful or proper in a discourse of this nature. 
 
 What I intend in this kind I shall only set down on the 
 by in the margin, upon which they that will may cast their 
 eye ; " that the discourse be not interrupted as to others that 
 
 1 2 Cor. V. 7. 
 
 - And here it may suffice to take notice that Greek writers, poets, pMIo- 
 sopliers, historians, and other writers, that have made only occasional 
 mention of this word aSrjs, or of the words next akin to it, ai'r or ollStis ; or 
 lexicographers, that have purposely given an accoimt of it, from Greek 
 authors, that must be supposed best to understand the use of words in their 
 own tongue, — generally such as have not been engaged in a controversy, that 
 obliges men visually to torture words to their own sense, or to serve the 
 hypothesis which they had espoused, — have been remote from confining 
 this, or the cognate words, to that narrow sense as only to signify a place or 
 state of torment for bad men, but understood it as comprehending also, a 
 state of felicity for the pious and good. 
 
 For such as have been concerned in interpreting this or other like words
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 375 
 
 either liave no need to be informed in this matter, having 
 known as much before as can be now told them ; or no 
 inclination to be diverted from their present purpose in 
 reading ; apprehending that what is generally told them, 
 
 with reference to the kuown and famovis controversy, which I need not 
 mention, their judgments must weigh according to the reputation they are of 
 with the reader. 
 
 The Greeks, no doubt, best understood their own language ; and among them 
 can we think that Homer, in the beginning of his first Iliad, when he speaks 
 of the many brave souls of his heroes, — those XcpQi^oi ^vxa\, which the war he is 
 describing sent into the invisible regions, o/'Si irpo'ia\|'6i',— thathe ever dreamt 
 they were all promiscuously dispatched away to a place of torment ? Not to 
 mention other passages where he uses the word SSrj? to the same purpose. 
 Divers others of the Greek poets are cited by several ready to oar hands, 
 with which I shall not cumber these jiages. That one is enough, and 
 nothing can be fuller to our purpose, which is quoted by Clem. Alexandr. 
 Str. lib. V. (as well as by sundry others), and ascribed to the comic Diphilus 
 (though by others to another, Philemon) : — 
 
 Kal yap Ka&' adriv Svo rpi^ovs voixiQofiiv 
 Mlav ^LKaioov, xarepav acre^wv 686v. 
 
 In hades we reckon there are two paths, — the one of the righteous, the 
 other of the wicked ; plainly showing that hades was understood to contain 
 heaven and hell. Plato, when in his Phmlo he tells us that he that comes into 
 hades, dixvtjros, Ka\ aT^KecTTos, not initiated and didy prepared, is thrown into 
 BSpfiopos (a stinking lake), biit he that comes into it fitly purified shall 
 dwell with the gods, as expressly signifies hades to include the same oppo- 
 site states of misery and felicity. In that dialogue called Axiochus, though 
 supposed not to be his, written by one that sufficiently knew the meaning of 
 siich a word, we are told that when men die they are brought into the 
 IleSioi' dX-n^eias, the 'field of truth,' where fit judges that examine riva ^iov, 
 what manner of life every one lived while he dwelt in the body, that they 
 who while they lived here were inspired by a good genius or spirit, go into 
 the region of pious men, having before they came into hades been purified : 
 such as led their lives wickedly are hurried by furies up and down chaos— 
 in the region of the wicked. In the third book de Reimb. Plato blames the 
 poets that they represent the state of things in hades too frightfidly, when 
 they should jxaWou eiraLveiv, praise it rather. Plutarch, de Superditlone, brings 
 in Plato speaking of hades, as a person, or a god, Dis or Pluto (as they fre- 
 quently do), and says he is ^iXdvOpcoiros, ' benign or friendly to men ; ' there- 
 fore not a tormentor of them only. Cajlius Rhodigin. quotes this same passage 
 of Plutarch, and takes notice that our Savaoiu- speaks of the state of 
 torment by another word, not " hades," but " gehenna ; " which sufficiently 
 shows how he understood it himself. 
 
 And whereas there are who disagree to this notation of this word, that
 
 376 THE redeemer's 150MINI0N 
 
 only concerning the usual signification of a word, is not said 
 without some ground. 
 
 And let texts of Scripture be consulted about that; how 
 " hades," and the correspondent word in the Old Testament, 
 " sheol," are used there. If we take the help of interpreters, 
 the impartial reader is to judge of their fidelity and ability 
 who go our way. ^ 
 
 makes it signify ' ' unseen, " as some will fetch it from the Hebrew and go as far 
 back as Adam in their search, alleging for this the authority of an old sibyl ; 
 others will have it go for driSiii, and signify as drep^n^s, "unpleasant ;" nothing 
 is plainer than that this other is the common notion, which (though fancy hath 
 not a greater dominion in anything than in etymology) would make one shy 
 of stretching invention to find how to differ from the generality. Therefore 
 Calepin, upon this word, tells us that the Greek grammarians do, against 
 the nature of the etymon (which plainly enough shows what they understood 
 that to be), generally direct its beginning to be writ with the asper spirit ; 
 but yet he makes it signify "obscure," or " not visible." And though Plato 
 is endeavoured to be hooked in to the deriving it from Adam by a very far 
 fetch, yet it is plain that his calling it ti^ttoj' SSrjAoi', in a place before referred 
 to, shows he understood it to signify "invisible : " and so lexicons will com- 
 monly derive it, (' Vulgo,' says Caslius Ehodig.) But its extensiveness, as 
 comprehending a state of happiness, is our principal concern, which way (as 
 we might show by many more instances) the common stream carries it. 
 Pausanias, in his 'APKAAIKA', speaking of Hermes (according to Homer) as 
 t^Cbs Slolkovov, and that he did lead souls uivh rhv aS-r^v, could not be thought 
 to mean they were then imiversally miserable. Sext. Empir. is an authority 
 good enough for the meaning of a Greek word ; when (Adversus Mathem.) he 
 tells us, though by way of objection, all men have'a common notion -nepl tUv 
 ev a5ov, (using the genitive with ev, as Homer and others do ; another word, 
 ' house ' or ' abode, ' in the dative, being understood, ) and yet, as to the thing, 
 he afterwards distinguishes poets' failles, and what, from the natm-e of the 
 soul itself, all have a common apprehension of. As also Diog. Laert. hath 
 the same phrase, mentioning the writings of Protagoras, who, he says, wrote 
 one book nepl twv ev aoov, using the genitive, as here, after eV, as hath been 
 usual, on the mentioned account. And though his hooks were burnt by the 
 Athenians, because of the dubious title of one of them concerning the gods, 
 so that we have not opportunity to know what his opinion of "hades" was, 
 we have reason, more than enough, to think he understood it not of a state 
 of torment only for evil spirits. 
 
 1 Primate Usher's judgment may be seen in his answer to the Jesuits' 
 challenge, that this word properly signifies the other world, the place or state 
 of the dead ; so that heaven itself may be comprehended in it. Grotius, on 
 Luke xvi. 23, makes ' ' hades " most certainly to signify a place withdrawn 
 from om- sight ; spoken of the body, the grave ; of the soul, all that region
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 377 
 
 Upon the whole, it being most evident, that hell is but a 
 small and mean part of what is signified by " hades," it will 
 be very unreasonable to represent or conceive of the power 
 here ascribed to our Lord according to that narrow notion of 
 it : and would be a like incongruity, as if, to magnify the 
 person of highest dignity in the court of a mighty prince, 
 one should say, " He is the keeper of the dungeon." 
 
 The word itself, indeed, properly taken, and according to 
 its just extent, mightily greatens him ; that is, it is as much 
 as to say, ' his dominion is of unknown limits ; ' such as no eye 
 can measure. We think with a sort of veneration, of what 
 is represented as too big for our knowledge. We have a 
 natural awe and reverence for unsearchable darkness. But 
 in the meantime we herein suffer a just diminution of our- 
 selves ; — that when our inquiry stops and can proceed no 
 further, it being but a very little part of the universe that 
 lies within our compass, having tired our inquiring eye and 
 mind, upon all the rest we write " hades," call it " unseen " 
 or "unknown." 
 
 And because we call it so in reference to us, God himself 
 calls it so too : it being his way (as is observed by that noted 
 
 wherein it is separate from the body. So that as Dives was in hades, so was 
 Lazarus too, but in separate regions ; for both paradise and hell, or, as the 
 Grecians were wont to speak, Elysii and Tartara, were in hades. You may 
 have in him more quotations fi-om the poets, the sense of the Essenes from 
 Josephus, and passages from divers of the fathers to the same purpose. Dr. 
 Hammond's mind was the same, copiously expressed on Matt. xi. 20 ; but 
 differs from Grotius in ascribing to Philemon the iambics above recited, 
 which the other gives to Diphilus. Dr. Lightfoot is full to the same pur- 
 pose, on the 4th Art. of the Creed. And though Bellarmine will have this 
 word always signify "hell," (which if it do with "sheol," the correspondent 
 word, Jacob desired to go to hell to his son, as Dr. Hammond argues ;) 
 Camero (as good a judge) thinks, except once, it never does. 
 
 If any desire to see more to this purpose with little trouble to themselves, 
 let them peruse Martinius's lexicon on the word 'inferus' or 'infernus.' I 
 could refer them to many more whom I forbear to mention. Only, if any 
 think in some or other text of Scripture this word must signify ' ' hell " only, 
 since it is of that latitude as to signify "heaven" in other places, an 
 impartial view of the circumstances of the text must determine whether 
 there it be meant of the one, or the other, or both.
 
 378 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 Jew^), speaking to men, to "use the tongue of tlie cHldren of 
 men," to speak to them in their own language, and allow 
 them to coin their own words: which at first they often do 
 very occasionally ; nor, as to this, could they have a fairer or 
 a more urgent occasion, or that is more self-justifying, than, 
 in one word to say of that other world, that it is hades or 
 " invisible," when that is truly all that they have to say, or 
 can have any immediate notice of about it. 
 
 It hath therefore its rise from ourselves, and the penury of 
 our knowledge of things ; and is at once both an ingenuous 
 confession, with some sort of modest cover and excuse of our 
 own ignorance : as with geographers, all that part of this 
 globe, which they cannot describe, is terra incognita; and 
 with philosophers, such phenomena in nature as they can 
 give no account of, they resolve, shortly and in the most 
 compendious way, into some or other occult quality, or some- 
 what else, as occult ! 
 
 How happy were it, if in all matters that concern religion, 
 and in this, as it doth so, they would shut up in a sacred 
 venerable darkness what they cannot distinctly perceive, it 
 being once by the undeceiving word expressly asserted, that 
 it is; without, therefore, denying its reality, because they 
 clearly apprehend not what it is. 
 
 With too many their religion is so little, and their pride 
 and self-conceit so great, that they think themselves fit to be 
 standards; that their eye or mind is of a size large enough to 
 measure the creation, yea, and the Creator too ; and by how 
 much they have the less left them of mind, or the more it is 
 sunk into earth and carnality, the more capable it is of being 
 the measure of all reality, of taking the compass of all being, 
 created and imcreated. And so that of the philosopher takes 
 place in the worst sense can be put upon it — " to see darkness 
 is to see nothing :" aU is nullity that their sense reaches not. 
 Hades is with such indeed, empty, imaginary darkness ; or 
 in plainer English, there is neither heaven nor hell, because 
 they see them not. 
 
 ^ Maiiuonitles.
 
 OVER THE IN^aSTBLE WORLD. 379 
 
 But we ouglit to have the greater thoughts of it, not the 
 less, for its being too big, too great, too glorious for our pre- 
 sent view, and that it must as yet rest, as to us, and so let 
 it rest a while, under the name of hade^'i — the unknown 
 dominion of our great Lord ; according to that most express 
 account he at his ascension gave of the existence of both parts 
 together, — that less known to us, and that more known, — 
 " All power is given imto me both in heaven and earth." ^ 
 
 That death is added, as contained also within the L'mits of 
 our Lord's dominion, doth expressly signify his custody of the 
 passage from this visible world to the invisible ; namely, as he 
 commands the entrance into each distinct part of hades, the 
 invisible world, consisting of both heaven and hell, so he hath 
 power over death too, which is the common outlet from this 
 world and the passage unto both. 
 
 But it withal plainly implies his very absolute power over 
 this visible world of ours also : for it signifies he hath the 
 power of measuring every one's time here, and how long each 
 inhabitant of this world shall live in it. If it belong to him 
 to determine when any one shall die, it must by consequence 
 belong to him to assign the portion and dimensum of time 
 that every one shall live. Nor is there any conceivable 
 moment in the time of any one's life, wherein he hath not 
 this power of putting a period by death thereunto, at his own 
 pleasure. He is therefore signified to have the power of 
 every man's life and death at once. And the power of life 
 and death is very high and great power. He therefore herein 
 implicitly claims what is elsewhere expressly ascribed to 
 him, "None .... lives to himself," (that is, dejure, no man 
 should,) " or dies to himself. For whether we live, we live 
 Tmto the Lord ; or whether we die, we die unto the Lord : 
 whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord's. For to 
 this end Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that he might 
 be Lord both of the dead and livins:." ^ 
 
 In sum, here is asserted to him a dominion over both 
 worlds ; this in which we live, and that into which we die, 
 1 Matt, xxviii. IS. '^ Rom. xiv. 7—9.
 
 380 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 ■whetlier the one or tlie other part of it ; and so in reference 
 to men who once have inhabited this world, the sense of this 
 text, and that we are insisting on, is the same : though hades 
 is of vastly larger extent than only to be the receptacle of 
 such as have lived here ; it having also, in both the parts of 
 it, innumerable inhabitants who never had a dwelling assigned 
 them in this world of ours at all. 
 
 But thus far we have the vast extent of our Lord Christ's 
 dominion, competently cleared to be the proper intendment 
 of this text; and that it never meant so faint and minute 
 a representation of it, as only to make him keeper of the 
 bottomless pit. Though of that also he hath the key, as we 
 shall further take notice ; but are now to inquire of, — what 
 will take up less time, — 
 
 III. The kind of that power over so vast a realm, or mani- 
 fold realms, signified by this emblematical expression of 
 " having the keys," etc. 
 
 Every one knows that the keys are insignia, some of the 
 tokens of power ; and, according to the peculiarity of the 
 object, may be of Divine power. 
 
 The Jews, as some writers of their affairs say, appropriate 
 the keys of three, others of four things to God only : of life, 
 or the entrance into this world : of the rain, or the treasures 
 of the clouds : of the earth (say some^), as of the granary of 
 corn : and of the grave ; ' of which,' says one of their own, 
 'the Holy, Blessed One hath the keys of the sepulchres in 
 his hand,' etc. And as we may be sure he admits thither, 
 80 he emits from thence ; and (as he says) ' in the future 
 age, the Holy, Blessed One will unlock the treasures of souls, 
 and will open the graves, and bring every soul back into its 
 own body,' " etc. 
 
 Nor is this key of the vast hades, when it is in the hand 
 of our Redeemer, the less in the hand of the Holy, Blessed One; 
 for so is he too. But it is in his hand as belonging to his 
 office of Mediator between God and man, as was before said. 
 And properly the phrase signifies ministerial power, being a 
 1 Weems. 2 pij-ke R. Eliezer. edit, per G. H. Vorst. C.F.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD, 381 
 
 manifest allusion to tlie common usage, in the courts of 
 princes, of entrusting to some great minister the power of 
 the keys ; as it was foretold of Eliakim, that he should be 
 placed in the same high station in Ilezekiah's court wherein 
 Shebna was, of whom so severe things are there said ; and 
 that " the key of the house of David should be laid upon his 
 shoulder," ^ etc. ; and the " house of David " being a known 
 type of the house or church of God, and he himself of 
 Christ, who, " as the Son, hath power over the whole 
 house," — according to this typical way of speaking, our Lord 
 is said to have " the key of David," to open so as none can 
 shut, to shut so as none can open ; ^ that is, to have a final 
 decisive power in all he doth, from which there is no appeal. 
 Nor could anything be more congruous than that having 
 the keys of the celestial house of God, the heavenly palace of 
 the great King, the "habitation of his holiness and glory," 
 in which are the "everlasting habitations," the "many 
 mansions," the places prepared for his redeemed ; he should 
 also have the keys of the terrestrial Bethel, which is but a 
 sort of portal, or vestibuium, to the other ; " the house of 
 God, and the gate of heaven." And as he is implied to 
 have the keys of this introductive, preparatory kingdom of 
 heaven (as the keys of the King's palace, where is the throne 
 or seat of government, and the keys of the kingdom, must 
 mean the same thing), when he is said to give them to the 
 apostle Peter and the other apostles, — this was but a prelude 
 and a minute instance of his power of those keys of hades, 
 and of the glorious heavenly kingdom itself contained therein, 
 which he was not to delegate, but to manage himself imme- 
 diately in his own person. 
 
 If moreover He were signified by the angel, who was said 
 to " have the key of the bottomless pit ; " ^ that also must im- 
 port a power, though great in itself, yet very little in com- 
 parison of the immense hades, of which he' is here said to 
 have the keys. So remote is it that the power ascribed to 
 him there, shoidd' be the measure of what he here asserts to 
 1 Isa. xxii. 20- 22. ^ Rev. iii. 7. ^ Rev. xx. 1.
 
 382 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 himself ! And the difference must be vastly greater than it 
 is possible for us to conceive or parallel, by the difference 
 between having power over the palace and all the most 
 delightful and most spacious territories in the vastest empire 
 of the greatest prince, and only having power over a dungeon 
 in some obscure corner of it ; which for the great purposes, 
 whereto all this is to be applied, we can scarcely too much 
 inculcate. 
 
 And, SECONDLY, to such appKcation let us now, with all 
 possible seriousness and intention of spirit, address ourselves ; 
 which will consist in sundry inferences or deductions, laying 
 before us some suitable matter, partly of our meditation; 
 partly for our practice : the former whereof are to prepare, 
 and lay a ground for the latter. 
 
 I. Divers things we may collect that will be very proper 
 for our deep meditation ; which I shall propose, not as things 
 that we can be supposed not to have known before, but which 
 are, too commonly, not enough thought on or considered. 
 
 And here we shall somewhat invert the order wherein 
 things lie in the text, beginning with what is there latter 
 and lower, and thence arising, with more advantage, to what 
 is higher and of greater concernment : as ; 
 
 1. That men do not die at random, or by some uncertain 
 accidental by-stroke that, as by a slip of the hand, cuts off 
 the thread of life ; but by an act of Divine determination and 
 judgment, that passes in reference to each one's death. For 
 as the key signifies authority and power, the turning this key 
 of death, that gives a man his exit out of this world, is an 
 authoritative act. And do we consider in what hand this 
 power is lodged ? we cannot but apprehend every such act is 
 the effect of counsel and judgment. 
 
 What philosophers are wont to discourse of fortuitous 
 events in reference to rational agents, or casual in reference 
 to natural, must be understood but with relation to ourselves, 
 and signifies only our own iguorance of futurities ; but can 
 have no place in the all-comprehending mind, as if anything 
 were a contingency unto that. For them that live as if they
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 383 
 
 thouglit they came into this world by chance, it is very 
 natural to them to think they shall die and go out of it by 
 chance too ; but token and as it happens. This is worse than 
 paganish blindness : for besides what from their poets the 
 vulgar have been made to believe concerning the ' three fatal 
 sisters,' to whom they ascribed no less than deity concerned 
 in measuring every one's life, — the grave discourses which 
 some of them have written concerning ' Providence,' and its 
 extent to the lesser intermediate concerns of life, much more 
 to that their final great concern of death, will be a standing 
 testimony against the too-prevailing Christian scepticism (they 
 ought to excuse the solecism who make it) of this wretched 
 age ! But such among us as will allow themselves the liberty to 
 think, want not opportunity and means by which they may be 
 assured, that not an imaginary, but real Deity is immediately 
 and constantly concerned in measuring our time in this world. 
 What an awful thought is this ! And it leads to a second 
 inference : — 
 
 2. That it is a great thing to die. The Son of God, the 
 Redeemer of man, hath an immediate presidency over 
 this afiair. He signalizes himself by it, who could not 
 suppose he shoidd be magnified by a trifle ! We slightly 
 say, ' Such a one is dead ! ' Consider the matter in itself, and 
 it is great. A reasonable soul hath changed states! An intel- 
 ligent spirit is gone out of our world ! The life of a gnat, a 
 fly, those little automata or self-moving things, how admir- 
 able a production is it ! It becomes no man to despise what 
 no man can imitate. We praise the pencil that well describes 
 the external figure of such an animalculum, such a little 
 creature ; but the internal, vital, self-moving power, and the 
 motion itself, what art can express ? But a human life, — 
 how important a thing is it ! It was one of Plato's thanks- 
 givings, 'that God had made him a man ! ' How careful a guard 
 hath God set over every man's life, fencing it by the severest 
 law ! " If any man shed man's blood, by man shall his blood 
 be shed;" and how weighty is the annexed reason ! "For in 
 the image of God made he man." This then highly greatens
 
 384 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 this matter. He therefore reserves it wholly to himself, as 
 one of his peculiarities, to dispose of such a life ! "I am. he 
 that kills and makes alive." We find it one of his high 
 titles, " The God of the spirits of all flesh." He had what 
 was much greater to glory in, that he was " the Father of 
 spirits," indefinitely spoken. When he hath all the heavenly 
 regions, the spacious hades, peopled with such inhabitants 
 "■ whose dwelling is not with flesh," and, for vast multitudes 
 of them, that never was ; — that yet, looking down into this 
 little world of ours, this minute spot of his creation, and 
 observing that here were " spirits dwelling in flesh," he 
 should please to be styled also the God of those spirits, 
 signifies this to be with him too, an appropriate glory; a 
 glory which he will not communicate farther than he com- 
 municates Godhead : and that he held it a Divine right to 
 measure the time unto each of them of their abode in flesh, 
 and determine when they shall dislodge. 
 
 This cannot be thought on aright, without a becoming, 
 most profound reverence of him on this account. How sharp 
 a rebuke is given to that haughty prince, " The God in whose 
 hands thy breath is . . . hast thou not glorified."^ That 
 would prepare the way, and we should be easily led on, 
 were we once come to think with reverence, to think also with 
 pleasure, of this case, that our life, and every breath we draw, 
 is under such a Divine superintendency. The holy psalmist 
 speaks of it with high complacency, as the matter of " his 
 song," that he had a God presiding over his life. So he tells 
 us he wovdd have each vvydrnxepov composed not more of night 
 and day, than of prayer and praise directed to God under this 
 notion, — "as the God of his life."" And he speaks it not 
 grudgingly, but as the ground of his trust and boast: "I 
 trusted in thee, Lord : I said. Thou art my God. My times 
 are in thy hand."^ That this key is in the hand of the great 
 Emmanuel, God with us, will be thought on with frequency, 
 when it is thought on with delight. 
 
 3. Our life on earth is under the constant strict observation 
 1 Dan. V. 23. ^ Ps. xlii. 8. ^ Ps. xxsi. 14, 15.
 
 OYER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 385 
 
 of our Lord Christ. He waits wlien to turn the key, and 
 shut it up. Through the whole of that time, which, by 
 deferring, he measures out to us, we are undej. his eye as in a 
 state of probation. He takes continual notice how we acquit 
 ourselves. For his turning the key at last, is a judicial act ; 
 therefore supposes diligent observation, and proceeds upon it. 
 He that hath this key is also said, in the next chapter, "to 
 have eyes like a flame of fire ;" with these he observes what 
 "he hath against" one or another; and with most indulgent 
 patience "gives a space of repentance,"^ and notes it dowm, 
 if any then " repent not," as we there also find. Did secure 
 sinners consider this, how he beholds them with a flame in his 
 eye, and the key in his hand, would they dare still to trifle ? 
 If they did apprehend how he, in this posture, stands over 
 them, in all their vain dalliances, idle impertinencies, bold 
 adventures, insolent attempts against his laws and govern- 
 ment, presumptuous affronts of his high authoritj'' ; yea, or 
 but in their drowsy slumberings, their lingering delays, their 
 neglects of offered grace : did they consider what notice he 
 takes how they demean themselves under every sermon they 
 hear, in every prayer wherein they are to join with others, or 
 which perhaps, for custom's sake, they put up alone by them- 
 selves : how their hearts are moved or unmoved by every 
 repeated call that is given them to turn to God, and get their 
 peace made by application of their Redeemer's reconciling 
 blood ; — in what agonies would they be, what pangs of 
 trembling would they feel within themselves, lest the key 
 should turn before their great work be done ! 
 
 4. Whatsoever ill designs by this observation he discovers, 
 it is easy to him to prevent. One turn of this key of death — 
 besides the many other ways that are obvious to him — disap- 
 points them all, " and in that day all their thoughts perish." It 
 is not therefore from inadvertency, indifferency, or impotency, 
 but deep counsel, that they are permitted to be driven on so 
 far. "He that sitteth in the heavens laughs," and " he knows 
 their day is coming." He can turn this key when he will. 
 1 Kev. ii. 18, 20, 21. 
 
 VOL. II. S
 
 386 THE redeemer's domimon 
 
 5. His power as to every one's death cannot be avoided or 
 icithstood. The act of this key is definitive, and ends the 
 business. " No man hath power over the spirit to retain the 
 spirit; nor hath he power in the day of death. '^i It is in 
 vain to struggle when the key is turned ; the power of the 
 keys, where it is supremely lodged, is absolutely decisive, and 
 their effect permanent and irrevocable. That soul therefore 
 for whose exit the key is turned, must thereupon then forth- 
 with depart, willing or unwilling, ready or unready. 
 
 6. Souls that go out of this world of ours, on the turn of 
 this key, go not out of being. He that hath this key of death, 
 hath also the key of hades, a key and a key. When he uses 
 the former, to let them out from this, he uses the latter, to 
 give them their inlet into the other world, and into the one 
 or the other part of it ; into the upper or the lower hades, as 
 the state of their case is, and doth requii'e. 
 
 Our business is not now with pagans, to whom the oracles 
 of God are unknown. If it were, the best and wisest of 
 them, who so commonly speak of soids going into hades, 
 never thought of their going no whither, nor therefore that 
 they were nothing. They had reasons then, which they 
 thought cogent, that induced them, thoiigh unassisted with 
 Divine revelation, to conclude they survived their forsaken 
 bodies. And what else could any unbribed imderstanding 
 conclude or conceive, when we find they have powers be- 
 longing to them which we can much more easily apprehend 
 capable of being acted, without help from the body, than by 
 it ? We are sure they can form thoughts, purposes, desires, 
 hopes ; for it is matter of fact, they do it ; and coherent 
 thoughts, and thoughts arising from thoughts, one from 
 another ; yea and thoughts abstracted from anything cor- 
 poreal, the notions of right and wrong, of virtue and vice, of 
 moral good, and evil, with some agreeable resolves ; thoughts 
 quite above the sphere of matter, so as to form a notion of 
 the mind itself, of a spiritual being, as unexceptionable a one 
 as we can form of a body ; yea of an original self-subsistent 
 ' Eccles. viii. 8.
 
 OVER THE IX^'ISIRLE WORLD. 387 
 
 Mind and Spirit, the Former and Maker of all other. It is 
 much more apprehensible, since Ave certainly know that all 
 this is done, that it is done without any help of the body, 
 than how flesh, or blood, or bones, or nerves, or brains, or 
 any corporeal thing, should contribute to such methods of 
 thinking, or to any thought at all. And if it can be con- 
 ceived that a spirit can act without dependence on a body, 
 what shoidd hinder but we may as well conceive it to subsist 
 and live without such dependence ? And when we find this 
 power of thought belongs to somewhat in us that lives, 
 (since the deserted carcase thinks not,) how reasonable is it 
 to suppose, as the body lives not of itself, or Kfe is not 
 essential to it, — for life may be retired and gone, and it 
 remain, as we see it doth, the same body still, — that the soul 
 to which the power of thought belongs lives of itself, not 
 independently on the first cause, but essentially ; so as to 
 receive life and essence together from that cause, or life 
 included in its essence, so as that it shall be the same thing 
 to it to be and to live. And hereupon how obvious is it to 
 apprehend that the soul is such a thing as can live in the 
 body — which when it doth, the body lives by it a precarious 
 borrowed life — and that can live out of the body, leaving it, 
 when it doth so, to drop and die. 
 
 These sentiments were so reasonable as generally to prevail 
 with the more deeply thinking part of mankind — ^philosophers 
 of all sorts, a few excepted, whose notions were manifestly 
 formed by vicious inclination — in the pagan world, where was 
 nothing higher than reason to govern. But we have "life 
 and immortality brought to light in the gospel," ^ and are 
 forewarned by it that these will be the measures of the final 
 judgment, — to give "eternal life" at last " to them who by 
 patient continuance in well doing seek honour, glory, and 
 immortality ;" 2 to the rest, "indignation and wrath, "^ etc., 
 because "there is no respect of persons with God:"* as sup- 
 posing the discovery of another world, even hj natural light 
 (much more by the addition of supernatund) , to be so clear, as 
 i2Tim. i. 10. - Rom. ii. 7. ^ Ver. 8. < Ver. 11. 
 
 s2
 
 388 THE redeemek's dominion 
 
 tliat the rule of tlie universal judgment, even for all, is most 
 righteously to be taken from hence, and that there is nothing 
 but a resolution of living wickedly to be opposed to it. 
 
 It is also no slight consideration that a susceptibleness of 
 religion should among the creatures that dwell on earth be so 
 appropriate and peculiar to man, and (some rare instances 
 excepted) as far diffused as human nature ; so as to induce 
 some very considering men, of the ancients as well as moderns, 
 both pagans and Christians, to think religion the more pro- 
 bable specifying difference of man, than reason. And whence 
 should so common an impression be, but from a cause as 
 common ? Or how can we avoid to think that this signature 
 upon the soul of man, a capacity of religion, should be from 
 the same hand that "formed the spirit of man within him," 
 and that a natural religiousness and human nature itself had 
 the same Author. But who sees not that religion as such, 
 hath a final reference to a future state ? He was no despicable 
 writer (though not a Christian) that positively affirmed 
 ' hope towards God to be essential to man ; and that they 
 that had it not, were not partakers of the rational nature.' ^ 
 
 It is so much the more a deplorable and monstrous thing 
 that so many, not only against the light of their own reason, 
 but of Divine revelation, ai*e so industrious to unman them- 
 selves ; and having so effectually in a great degree done it 
 really and in practice, aim to do it in a more compendious 
 way notionally and in principle too : and make use (or show) 
 of reason to prove themselves not to be reasonable creatures, 
 or to divest themselves of the principal dignity and distinc- 
 tion of the rational nature : and are incomparably herein 
 more unnatural than such as we commonly count felons upon 
 themselves, who only act against their own bodily life, but 
 these against the much nobler life of their soul : tlicy against 
 the life of an individual ; these against their own whole 
 species, at once. And how deplorable is their case, that count 
 it their interest to be in no possibility of being happy ; when 
 
 ^ Pliilo Juda?us. Quod deter, (lotiori insid. soleat. o-x twv yuv; i\7Ti(^6vrwv 
 (trl Qthv, Ao-yjKijj cpvaeuis oil fxe/^oipafjuvwy.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 389 
 
 yet their so great dread of a future state, as to urge them 
 upon doing the most notorious violence to their own faculties 
 to rid themselves of it, is a very convictive argument of its 
 reality. For their dread still pursues, and sticks close to 
 them. This shows it lies deep in the nature of things, which 
 they cannot alter. The terrible image is still before their 
 eyes ; and their principal refuge lies only in diverting, in not 
 attending to, it. And they can so little trust to their own 
 sophistical reasonings against it, that when they have done 
 all they can, they must owe what they have of ease and quiet 
 in their owti minds, not so much to any strength of reason 
 they apprehend in their own thoughts, as in not thinking. 
 A bold jest may sometimes provoke others' laughter, when 
 it doth not extinguish their own fear. A suspicion, z.formido 
 oppositi, will still remain ; a misgiving, that they cannot 
 nullify the great hades, pull down the spacious fabric of 
 heaven or undermine the profound abyss of hell by a profane 
 scoff. They will in time discern the difference between the 
 evanid passion of a sudden fright that takes its rise from 
 imagination, and the fixed dread which is founded in the 
 reason of things : as one may between a fright in a dream, 
 and the dread of a condemned criminal, with whom, sleeping 
 and waking, the real state of his case is still the same. Nor 
 are the things themselves remote or unconnected — God's 
 right to punish a reasonable creature that hath lived in con- 
 tempt of Him, and his own reasonable apprehension hereof, 
 or his conscience both of the fact and desert. They answer 
 as face to face, as the stamp on the seal, and the impression 
 on the wax. They would fain make their reason a protection 
 against their fear, but that cannot serve both ways. The 
 reason of the thing lies against them already, and there 
 cannot be an eternal war between the faculty and the object. 
 One way or other the latter will overpower the former, and 
 draw it into consent with itself: either by letting it see there 
 is a just true cause of fear, or — assisted by Divine grace — 
 prevail for the change of the sinner's course. Whereupon 
 that troublesome fear and its cause will both upon the best
 
 890 THE redeemer's DOMINION 
 
 terms cease together : and that what hath been proposed to 
 consideration under this head, may be the more eflPectually 
 considered to this blessed purpose, I add that, 
 
 7. The discovery of the invisible world and the disposal of 
 aflFairs there, have a most encouraging asjoect upon this world. 
 For both the discovery and the disposal are by our blessed 
 Redeemer, in whom mere}'' and might are met in highest 
 perfection. How fragrant breathings of grace, how glorious 
 a display of power are there, in what he here says, " Fear not ! 
 I am the first and the last ; I am he that liveth and was dead, 
 and I am alive for evermore. Amen. And I have the keys of 
 hades and of death." He hath opened the celestial hades to 
 our view, that it might be also open to our safe entrance and 
 blissful inhabitation. " He who was dead, but liveth," and 
 had made his victorious, triumphant entrance before us and 
 for us : he who had overcome him " that had the power of 
 death" — conquered the gigantic monster at the gate, gained 
 the keys, and designed herein their deliverance from the " fear 
 of death," who were thereby "subject to bondage ;^'^ he who 
 hath " abolished death, and brought life and immortality to 
 light in the gospel ; " ^ — it is he who bids us lift up our eyes, 
 and behold the heavens opened, and himself standing at the 
 right hand of God. The horrid, infernal hades he hath dis- 
 covered too, only that we might fear and shun it. But yet 
 more distinctly consider, why doth he here represent himself 
 imder this character, "He that liveth and was dead," but 
 that he might put us in mind of that most convictive argu- 
 naent of his love, his submitting to die for us, — " Greater 
 love hath no man," — and that he might at once put us out 
 of doubt concerning his power, that he 3'^et survives, and is 
 sprung up alive out of that death, victorious over it ? How 
 amiable is the representation of such power in conj miction 
 with such love ! The same person having a heart so reple- 
 nished with love, a hand so armed with power, neither 
 capable of unkind design or imable to effect the most kind ! 
 Behold him in this representation ! Who would not now fall 
 1 Heb. ii. 14-, 15. 22 Tim. i. 10.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WOULD. 391 
 
 at his foot and adore ? Who would hesitate at resigning to 
 him, or be appalled at his disclosure of this unknown world ? 
 
 Do but consider him who makes the discovery, and who 
 would not expect from him the utmost efforts of love and 
 goodness ? From him who is " the brightness of his father's 
 glory, and the exjsress image of his person," — his essential 
 imaffe who is Love ! From him who came into this wretched 
 world of ours, " full of grace and truth," and who could not 
 have come but by the inducement of compassion to our 
 miseries ! From him who knows all things, and whose eye 
 penetrates into e.yerj recess of the vast hades — all his own 
 empire, in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and 
 knowledge ; but who only knows not to deceive : who hath 
 told us, " in his Father's house are many mansions : and 
 if it were not so, would have told us" that.^ From him into 
 whose mouth " guile never entered," but into whose " lips 
 grace was poured," and is poured out by them; so that the 
 ear that hath heard him hath borne him witness, and filled 
 with wonder those that heard the "gracious words which 
 came out of his mouth : " who hath told us all concerning 
 that unseen world, that in this our present state it was fit for 
 us to know ; and enough, in telling all that wiU be his 
 followers, that "where he is, there he will have them be."^ 
 
 And consider the manifest tendency of the discovery itself. 
 "What doth it mean or tend to, but to imdeceive miserable 
 mortals, whom he beholds from his high throne mocked with 
 shadows, beguiled with most delusive impostures, and easily 
 apt to be imposed upon ? " Foolish, deceived, serving divers 
 lusts and pleasures;" "feeding upon ashes," and wearying 
 themselves for very vanity ; sporting themselves in the dust 
 of this minute spot of earth ; wasting their little inch of 
 time, wherein they should prepare for translation into the 
 regions of unseen glory ! To these he declares he hath 
 formed a kingdom for all that covet to mend their states, and 
 that "his kingdom is not of this world;" that for such as 
 will be of this kingdom, he will provide better, having other 
 ^ Joliu xiv. 2. - Joliu xvii. 24.
 
 302 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 worlds, the many heavens above all which he is ascended, at 
 his dispose.^ But they must seek " this kingdom" and " the 
 righteousness of it in the first place," and desist from their 
 care about other things. He counsels and warns them not to 
 lay up their treasure on earth, but in heaven, and to let their 
 hearts be there with their treasure. And what can with- 
 stand his power who, having been dead, liveth victorious 
 over " him that had the power of death ; " and " is alive for 
 evermore," possessed of an eternal state of life. 
 
 And have we not reason to expect the most equal and most 
 benign disposal of things in that unseen world, when he also 
 declares, *I have the keys, — rightful authority as well as 
 mighty power, — to reward and punish?' None but who have 
 a very ill mind can fear from him an ill management. He 
 first became capable of dying, and then yielded himself to 
 die, that he might obtain these ke37S for gracious purposes. 
 He had them before to execute just vengeance, as he was 
 originally in " the form of God," and without " robbery 
 equal with God ;" an equal sharer in sustaining the wrong 
 that had been done by apostate rebels, and an equal sharer 
 in the right of vindicating it. 
 
 But that he might have these keys to open the heavenly 
 hades to reduced apostates, to penitent, believing, self-devoting 
 sinners, — for this it was necessary, he should put on man, 
 " be found here in fashion as a man, take on him the form of 
 a servant, become obedient to death," (even that servile 
 punishment,) " the death of the cross."- For this he is highly 
 exalted into this poM^er, that every knee might bow to him, 
 in hope of saving mercy. ^ He had the keys, without 
 this, of the supernal hades, — to shut out all offenders ; and of 
 the infernal, — to shut them up for ever. But that he might 
 have them to absolve repenting believers and admit them into 
 heaven, and only to shut up in hell implacable enemies, — for 
 this he must die, and live again. " He was to be slain and 
 hanged on a tree," that he might be a " Prince and a Saviour 
 
 1 Ei.hes. iv. 10. 2 Phil. ii. 7, 8. 
 
 2 Phil. ii. 9, 10, compared with laa. xlv. 22, 2.3.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WOJRLD. 393 
 
 to give repentance and remission of sins :" ^ that to this intent 
 he might be " Lord of the dead and the living," he must 
 both die and rise, and live so as to die no more.^ These keys 
 for this purpose, he was only to have upon these terms. He 
 had a right to punish as an offended God ; but to pardon and 
 save, as a mediating, sin-expiating " God-man." 
 
 But as he was to do the part of a Mediator, he must act 
 equally between the disagreeing parties. He was to deal 
 impartially on both sides ; to render back entire to the 
 injured Ruler of the world his violated rights, and to obtain 
 for us his forfeited favour m entire : and undertook therefore, 
 when as a sacrifice he was to "be slain, to redeem us to God 
 by his blood, "^ to give him back his revolted creature, holy, 
 pure, subject, and serviceable, as by his methods he shall be 
 at last ; and procure for him pardon, acceptance, and eternal 
 blessedness. 
 
 "When, therefore, he was to do for us the part of a 
 Redeemer, he was to redeem us from the curse of the law, not 
 from the command of it ; to save us from the wrath of God, 
 not from his government.* Had it been otherwise, so firm 
 and indissoluble is the connection between our duty and our 
 felicity, that the Sovereign Ruler had been eternally injured, 
 and we not advantaged. Were we to have been set free 
 from the preceptive obligation of God's holy law, and most of 
 all from that most fundamental precept, " Thou shalt love the 
 Lord thy God with all thine heart, soul, might, and mind," 
 — had this been redemption, which supposes only what is evil 
 and hurtful, as that we are to be redeemed from ? This were 
 a strange sort of self -repugnant redemption, not from sin and 
 misery, but from our duty and felicity. This were so to be 
 redeemed as to be still lost, and every way lost ; both to God 
 and to ourselves for ever. Redeemed from loving God ! 
 What a monstrous thought ! Redeemed from what is the 
 great active and fruitive principle ; the source of obedience 
 and blessedness ; the eternal spring, even in the heavenly 
 
 1 Acts V. 30, 31. 2 p^om. xiv. 9. ^ Rev. v. 9. 
 
 * Gal. iii. 13, 14 ; Horn. viii. 3, 4 
 
 s3
 
 394 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 state, of adoration and fruition ! This had been to legitimate 
 everlasting enmity and rebellion against the blessed God, and 
 to redeem us into an eternal hell of horror and misery to our- 
 selves ! This had been to cut off from the Supreme Ruler of 
 the world for ever so considerable a limb of his most rightful 
 dominion, and to leave us as miserable as everlasting separa- 
 tion from the Fountain of life and blessedness could make us. 
 
 When, therefore, our Lord Jesus Christ was to redeem us 
 from the curse of the law, it was that the promised Spirit 
 might be given to us,^ who should " write the law in our 
 hearts,"^ " fulfil the righteousness of it in us," by causing us 
 to walk after his dictates according to that law, regenerating 
 us, begetting us after God's image, and making us partakers 
 of a Godlike nature : so we " through the law become 
 dead" to the malediction and curse of it, " that we may live 
 to God " more devoted lives than ever.^ Thus is God's lost 
 creature given back to him with the greatest advantage also 
 to itself. 
 
 With this design it is apparent our Lord redeemed us, and 
 by his redemption acquired these keys. Nor are we to doubt 
 but in the use of them, he will dispense exactly according to 
 this just and merciful design. And what a perverse, distorted 
 mind is that, which can so much as wish it should be other- 
 wise ; namely, that he should save us to the eternal wrong of 
 him that made us, and so as that we should be nothing the 
 better, that is, that he should save us without saving us ! 
 
 And hath this no pleasant, comfortable aspect upon a lost 
 world ? that he who hath these keys will use them for such 
 purposes, that is, to admit to eternal bliss " and save to the 
 uttermost all that will come to God by him," — not willing to 
 be everlastingly alienated from the life of God, — " because he 
 ever lives to make intercession ;" or to transact and negotiate 
 for them (as that word signifies) and that in a rightful way, 
 and even by the power of these keys ? 
 
 8. That there must be some important reason why the 
 
 1 Gal. iii. 13, 14. - Jer. xxxi. 33 ; Ezek. xxxvi. 27. 
 
 3 Gal. ii. 19.
 
 OVER THE IXVISIPLE WORLD. 395 
 
 other world is to us umeen, and so truly bears tlie name of 
 hades. This expresses the state of the case as in fact it is, 
 that it is a world Ij'ing out of our sight, and into which our 
 dim and weak eye cannot penetrate. That other state of 
 things is spoken of therefore as hidden from us by a veil. 
 "When our Lord Jesus is said to have "passed into the 
 heavens,"^ he is also said "to have entered into that within 
 the veil,"- alluding to that in the temple of Solomon, and 
 before that, in Moses' tabernacle ; but expressly signifying 
 that the holy places into which Christ entered, "not those 
 made with hands, which were the figure of the true, but 
 heaven itself," filled with the glorious presence of God, 
 where he appears for us,^ is also veiled from us: as also the 
 glory of the other state is said to be a glory as yet " to be 
 revealed." * And we are told, the great God " holdeth 
 back the face of his throne ;" ^ and above, "^ it is represented 
 as a Divine prerogative, that " sheol," (which is there ground- 
 lessly rendered " hell,") the vast hades, is only " naked before 
 him," lies entirely open to his view ; and therein the dark 
 and horrid part of it, " Destruction" — by which peculiarly 
 must be meant "hell" — is "to him without a covering," not 
 more hidden from his eye. 
 
 Which shows this to be the Divine pleasure : so God will 
 have it be, who coid.d have exposed all to common view if he 
 had pleased. 
 
 But because he orders all things " according to the counsel 
 of his own will," "^ we must conceive some weighty reason did 
 induce hereto, — that whatsoever lies beyond this present state 
 of things should be concealed from our immediate view, and 
 so come uno nomine to be all called " hades." And if the reason 
 of God's conduct, and the course of his dispensation herein, 
 had been equally hidden, as that state itself is, it had been a 
 bold presumption to inquire and pry into it ; modesty and 
 reverence should have restrained us. But when we find it 
 holds a manifest agreement with other parts of his counsel 
 
 1 Heb. iv. 14. ^ Helj. \i. 19, 20. =* Heb. ix. 24. * Rom. ^4ii. 18. 
 5 Job xxvi. 9. fi Ver. 6. "' Ephes. i. 11.
 
 396 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 that are sufficiently revealed, and tliat the excellency of the 
 Divine Wisdom is most conspicuous and principally to be 
 beheld and admired in ordering the apt congruities and cor- 
 respondencies of things with each other, and especially of the 
 ends he proposes to himself with the methods and ways he 
 takes to effect them ; it were very great oscitancy and an 
 undutiful negligence not to observe them when they stand in 
 view, that we may render him his due acknowledgments and 
 honour thereupon. 
 
 It is manifest that as God did not create man at first in 
 that which He designed to be his final state, but as a proba- 
 tioner, in a state of trial in order to a further state : so when 
 he apostatized and fell from God, He was graciously pleased 
 to order for him a new trial, and put him into the hands of 
 his merciful Redeemer, who is entrusted with these "keys " 
 and with the power of life and death over him, to be 
 managed and exercised according to the terms plainly set 
 down and declared in His gospel. Wheresoever He is with 
 sufficient evidence revealed and made known, men immedi- 
 atel}' come under obligation to believe in him, to entrust and 
 commit themselves into the same hands ; to rely upon the 
 truth of his word in everything he reveals, as the ground of 
 their submitting to his authority in everything he requires. 
 What concerns their present practice, he hath plainly shown 
 them ; so much as it was requisite they should pre-apprehend 
 of future retributions, rewards and punishments, he hath 
 revealed also ; not that they should have the knowledge 
 hereof by immediate insjDCction, but by taking his word : 
 that as their first transgression was founded in infidelity — 
 that they did not believe God, but a lying spirit against 
 him — their first step in their recovery and return to God, 
 should be to believe him, and take his word about things 
 they have themselves no immediate sight or knowledge of. 
 This point was by no means to be quitted to the first apos- 
 tates ; as if God's saying to them, ' If you transgress, " you 
 shall die," or go into hades,' was no sufficient enforcement of 
 the precept, unless he had given them a distinct view of the
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 397 
 
 states of felicity or misery whicli their obedience or disobe- 
 dience would lead them into. This had been to give away the 
 whole cause to the revolted rebels, and rather to confess error 
 and oversight in the Divine government, than impute fault 
 to the impugners of it ! 
 
 This being- the state of the case, how suitable had it been 
 to the design of this second trial to be made with men, to 
 withdraw the veil, and let every one's own eyes be their 
 informers of all the glories of the heavenly state, and here- 
 upon proclaim and preach the gospel to them, that they 
 should all partake herein, that would entirely deny them- 
 selves, come off from their own bottom, give themselves up 
 absolutely to the interest, love, service and communion of 
 their Redeemer, and of God in him ? to fortify them against 
 the assaults and dangers of their earthly pilgrimage by re- 
 versing that rule, " The just shall live by faith," — even 
 that "faith which is the substance of things hoped for, 
 the evidence of things not seen ? " ^ or by inverting the 
 method, that in reference to such things, " we are to walk 
 by faith, not by sight,"- and letting it be, we are to walk by 
 sight, not by faith? and that, lest any should refuse such 
 compliance with their great Lord, whole hades should be no 
 longer so, but " made naked " before them, and the " co- 
 vering of hell and destruction " be taken off, and their own 
 eyes behold the infernal horrors, and their own ears hear the 
 shrieks and bowlings of accursed creatures, that having re- 
 jected their Redeemer are rejected by him ? We are not 
 here to consider, what course would most certainly effect 
 their salvation, but what most became the wise, holy God, 
 to preserve the dignity of his own government and save 
 them too ; otherwise Almighty power could save all at once. 
 As therefore we have cause to acknowledge the kindness and 
 compassion of our blessed Lord, who hath these keys, in 
 giving us, for the kind, such notices as he hath, of the state of 
 the things in hades ; so we have equal cause to admire his 
 wisdom, that he gives us not those of another kind, that should 
 1 Heb. X. 38 ; xi. 1. 20 Cor. v. 7.
 
 398 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 more powerfully strike the sense and amaze us more, but 
 instruct us less. That continues it to be liades still, a state 
 of things to us unseen as yet. As the case would have been 
 on the other supposition, the most generous noble part of our 
 religion had been sullied or lost, and " the trial of our faith . . . 
 which is to be found unto praise, honour, and glory at the 
 appearing of Jesus Christ," even upon this account, "that 
 they who had not seen him " in his mean circumstances on 
 earth, nor did noiv " see him," amidst all the glories of his 
 exalted state, "yet helieving, loved him, and rejoiced in him 
 with joy unspeakable and full of glory," ^ — this faith, and 
 all the glorious trials of it, with its admirable achievements 
 and performances, wherebj'' the elders heretofore obtained so 
 good a report" and high renown on earth, and which filled 
 the world with wonder, had all vanished into obscurit}^ and 
 darluiess ; that is, if they had believed no more or no greater 
 things, than every man besides had the immediate view of 
 by his own eyesight. 
 
 And yet the trial had been greater on another account, 
 than the Divine Wisdom, in conjunction with goodness and 
 compassion, thought fit ordinarily to put sincere Christians 
 upon. For who could with any tolerable patience have 
 endured longer abode on earth, after they should once have 
 had the glory of the heavenly state immediately set in view 
 before their eyes ; especially considering, not so much the 
 sufferings, as the impurities of their .present state ! What, 
 for great reason, was a special vouchsafement to one apostle 
 was, for as great, not to be common to all Christians. How 
 great is the wisdom and mercy of our blessed Lord in this 
 partial concealment of our future state, and that while so 
 much as is sufiicient is revealed, there is yet a hades iipon 
 it, and it may still be said, " It doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be." 3 
 
 But as these majestic, life-breathing words of our great 
 Lord do plainly offer the things that have been mentioned — 
 and many more such that might occur — ^to our thoughts and 
 1 1 Pet. i. 7, 8. 2 Heb. xi. 2. ^ i John iii. 2.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE M^ORLD. 399 
 
 meditation ; so will tliey be thought on in vain, if tliey be 
 not followed and answered by suitable dispositions and actions 
 of heart and life. Therefore the further use we are to make 
 of this great subject will be to lay down,' — 
 
 II. Divers corresponderd things to be practised and done, 
 which must also suppose dispositions and frames of heart and 
 spirit agreeable thereto. 
 
 1. Let us live expecting a period to be ere long put to our 
 life on earth. For remember, there are keys put into a 
 great hand for this very purpose, that holds them not in 
 vain. His power is of equal extent with the law he is to 
 proceed by ; and by that it is " appointed unto men once to 
 die."^ Therefore as in the execution, he cannot exceed, so 
 he will not come short of this appointment : when that once 
 shall be, it belongs to him to detei-mine. And from the 
 course we may observe him to hold, as it is uncertain to all, 
 it can be very remote to none. How short is the measure of 
 a span ! It is an absurd vanity to promise ourselves that 
 which is in the power of another. How wise and j)rudent a 
 thing to accommodate ourselves composedly to his pleasure, 
 in whose power we are, and to live as men continually 
 expecting to die! There are "bands of death" out of 
 which, when they once take hold, we cannot free ourselves. 
 But there are also "bands of life," not less troublesome or 
 dangerous. It is our great concern to be daily, by degrees, 
 loosening and disentangling ourselves from these bands ; and, 
 for preventing the necessity of a violent rupture, to be daily 
 disengaging our hearts from an ensnaring world, and the too 
 close embraces of an over-indulged body. Tell them reso- 
 lutely, ' I must leave them, whensoever my great Lord turns 
 the key for me, and I know not how soon that may be.' It 
 is equally unhappy and foolish to be engaged in the pursuit 
 of an impossibility or in a war with necessity ; the former 
 whereof cannot be obtained, the latter cannot but overcome. 
 We owe so much to ourselves and to the ease and quiet of 
 our own minds, to be reconciled at all times to that which 
 1 Heb. ix. 27.
 
 400 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 may befal us at any time. How confounding a tiling is 
 surprisal by that wliicli ourselves regret and dread ! How 
 unaccountable and ignominious must it be to pretend to be 
 surprised with what we have so great reason always to 
 expect, and whereof we are so oft forewarned ! Is it no part 
 of Christian watchfulness to wait for svich an hour ? Though 
 that "waiting all the days of our appointed time," mentioned 
 Job xiv. 14, refers to another change than that of death, 
 namely — as the foregoing and following verses show — that of 
 the resurrection, yet it cannot but be equally requisite upon a 
 no less important reason. And the requests, that the Lord 
 would " make us know our end, and the measure of our days, 
 that we may know how frail we are, "^ and " that he would 
 teach us so to number our days that we may apply our hearts 
 to wisdom,"^ are equally monitory to the same purpose as 
 the most express precepts : as also the many directions we 
 have to watch and wait for our Lord's appearance and 
 coming are as applicable to this purpose. For whensoever 
 his key opens our passage out of this world and these bodies, 
 hades opens too ; and he particularly appears to us in as 
 decisive a judgment of our case, as his universal appearance 
 and judgment will at last give for all. The placid agreement 
 of our minds and spirits with Divine determination, both as 
 to the thing and time of our departure hence, will prevent 
 the trouble and ungratefulness of being surprised ; and our 
 continual expectation of it, will prevent any surprisal at all. 
 Let this then be an agreed resolution with us, to endeavour 
 being in such a posture, as that we may be capable of saying, 
 ' Lord, whensoever thou shalt move thy key, and tell me, 
 " This night," or this hour, " I will require thy soul," thou 
 shalt not, Lord, prevent mine expectation, or ever find me 
 counting upon "many years'" enjoyment of anything this 
 world can entertain me with.' 
 
 In further pursuance hereof, 
 
 2. Be not over-intent on designs for this present world ; 
 which would suppose you to count upon long abode in it. 
 1 Ps. xxxix. 4. 2 Pa. ^c. 12.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 401 
 
 Let them, be always laid with a supposition you may this 
 way, even by one turn of this key, be prevented of bringing 
 them about ; and let them be pursued with indifFerency, so 
 as that disappointment even this way may not be a griev- 
 ance. A thing made up of thought and design, as our mind 
 and spirit naturally is, will be designing one way or other ; 
 nor ought we to attempt that violence upon our own natures 
 as to endeavour the stupifying of the intelligent, designing 
 mind, which the Author of nature hath put into us. Only 
 let us so lay our designs as that how many soever we form 
 that may be liable to this sort of disappointment, we may 
 still have one, greater and more important, so regularly and 
 surely laid, that no turn of this key shall be in any possi- 
 bility to frustrate, but promote it rather. The design for " the 
 kingdom of God " to be first sought, with " his righteous- 
 ness," ^ or which is pursued "by seeking glory, honour, and 
 immortality," to the actual attainment of eternal life,^ may, 
 if prescribed methods be duly observed, have this felicity 
 always attending it, — to be successfully pursued w^hile we live, 
 and effected when we die. 
 
 But this is an unaccountable " vanity under the sun," that 
 men too generally form such projects that they are disap- 
 pointed, both when they do not compass them and when 
 they do. If they do not, they have lost their labour ; if they 
 do, they are not worth it. "They dream they are eating," 
 and enjoying the fruit of their labour, but " they awake, and 
 their soul is empty." And if at length they think of laying 
 wiser and more valuable designs, the key turns, and not 
 having fixed their resolution and begun aright, they and 
 all their thoughts, foolish or more wise, perish together. 
 Because there is a fit season for every fit undertaking, a 
 " time and judgment for every purpose," or a critical time, 
 such as is by judgment afiixed to every such purpose,^ and 
 because also men " loiow not their time, therefore their 
 misery is great upon the earth ; " and " as birds caught in a 
 snare, they are snared in an evil time that falleth suddenly 
 1 Matt. vi. 3.3. - Eom. ii. 7. ^ Eccles. viii. 6.
 
 402 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 upon them."i O miserable, miserable mortals ! So are your 
 immortal spirits misemploj^ed and lost ! 
 
 Their most valuable design for another world is seldom 
 thoug-lit on in season ; their little designs for this world they 
 contrive and prosecute with that confidence as if they thought 
 the world to be theirs, and themselves their own, and they 
 " had no Lord over them." This rude insolence that holy 
 apostle animadverts upon ; — of such as say, " To-day or to- 
 morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a j'-ear, 
 and buy and sell, and get gain : whereas they know not what 
 shall be on the morrow. And what is their life ? A vapour," 
 etc. So much of duty and becoming behaviour is in the 
 meantime forgotten, as to say, " If the Lord will, we shall 
 live,"^ etc. This is to bear themselves as absolute masters of 
 their own lives. How bold an affront to their Sovereign 
 Lord ! They feel themselves well in health, strength, and 
 vigour, and seem resolved it shall be a trial of skill who hath 
 the power, or to whom the l-eijs belong, till it come to the 
 last irrefragable demonstration, that he " changes their coim- 
 tenance and sends them away,"^ and then they go driven, 
 "plucked," and torn "away from their dwelling-place, 
 rooted out of the land of the living." ^ 
 
 But if any premonitory decays make them doubt the per- 
 2)etuity of their own abode here, they somewhat ease their 
 minds by the pleasure they take in thinking, when they have 
 filled "their own bellies,"^ what they shall "leave of their 
 substance to their babes," and to them that shall come 
 after : " and their inward thought is, that their houses shall 
 continue for ever, and their dwelling-places to all genera- 
 tions ; they call their lands after their own names," and 
 " their posterity approve their sayings," ® — think and act as 
 wisely as they. Thus they take upon them ; and reckon, 
 they for their time, and theirs after them, shall still dwell in 
 their own. A wise thought ! They are the owners when 
 another keeps the keys. 
 
 1 Eccles. ix. 12. ~ Jas. iv. 13— L5. 3 Job xiv. 20. ■« Ps. lii. 55. 
 « Ps. xvii. 14. ^ Ps. xlix. 11, 13.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 403 
 
 Several otlier things of like import I sliall more lightly 
 toucli, that may be collected from what hath been already 
 more largely said, and leave to be further enlarged upon in 
 your own thoughts ; and shall dilate more upon some other, 
 as they are either more material, or less thought on by the 
 most. 
 
 3. Be not 2Jrodigal of your time on earth, which is so little 
 in vour power. Because you are not to expect much, make 
 the best use you can of your little. It is so precious a thing 
 that it is to be " redeemed," it is therefore too precious to be 
 embezzled and trifled away. The connexion of those two 
 precepts, of "walking circumspectly, not as fools, but as 
 wise," and that of " redeeming the time," ^ more than inti- 
 mates that to squander time is a foolish thing. Of the 
 several sorts of things that we make ourselves, their shape 
 and frame show their use and end. Are we to make a less 
 judicious estimate of the works of God? If we therefore 
 contemplate ourselves, and consider what a sort of production 
 man is, can we allow ourselves to think God made him a 
 reasonable creature on purpose to play the fool ? Or can 
 we live as if we thought so, without reproaching our Maker ? 
 But whereas he who hath been the Author to us of such a 
 nature, — capable of improving a life's time in this world unto 
 most valuable purposes, — hath also been the Author of such 
 a law, requiring us to " redeem time ; " the reproach will be 
 wholly turned ofi" from him upon ourselves, and our conse- 
 quent ruin be upon our own guilty heads. And he will find 
 some among ourselves, who by the advantage only of the 
 reasonable nature common to us and them are instructors to 
 us, not to waste our days in vanity, and will be witnesses 
 against us if we so foolishly consume what we cannot com- 
 mand. 
 
 Some such have unanswerably reprehended the common 
 
 folly of those that dread the thought of throwing away their 
 
 whole life at once, that yet have no regret at throAviug it all 
 
 away by parcels and piecemeal ; and have told us a wise man 
 
 ' Ephes. V. 15, 16.
 
 404 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 can find notliing of 'that value, for wiiicli to barter away his 
 time. ^ 
 
 And we are to consider, tliat as we are reasonable creatures, 
 we are accountable. That we are shut up in these bodies, as 
 in workhouses ; that when he that keeps the keys lets us 
 out, we are to "receive the things done in the body, ac- 
 cording to what we have done, whether good or evil ; " - 
 that it belongs to him that measures our time to censure it 
 too, and the use we have made of it. 
 
 4. lict Him be at once both great and amiable in our eyes, 
 who hath so absolute power over us, and so gracious propen- 
 sions towards us ; that is, who hath these keys, and who 
 acquired them with so merciful intentions ; even upon such 
 terms as coxdd not but signify the greatest compassion and 
 good will towards such as we. 
 
 Reconsider what hath been offered as matter of meditation, 
 to both these purposes. And now hereupon let us endeavour 
 to have a correspondent sense inwrought into our hearts, and 
 to bear ourselves towards him accordingly. The power and 
 efficacy of whole Christianity depends upon this, and doth 
 very principally consist in it. What a faint, impotent, lan- 
 guishing thing is our religion, how doth it dwindle into 
 spiritless, dead form, without it ! Either the " form of know- 
 ledge " is nothing else but insipid dead notion, or our forms 
 of worship only fruitless unpleasant formality, if we have not 
 a vivid sense in our hearts both of his glorious greatness and 
 of his excellent loving-kindness. As much as words can 
 signify towards the impressing svich a sense into our hearts, 
 we have in these words, uttered from his own mouth ; so that 
 he may say as that memorable type of him once did, you 
 may plainly perceive " it is my mouth that speaketh to you."^ 
 " I am the first and the last. I am he that liveth and was 
 dead, and behold I am alive for evermore." And hereto he 
 now sets his solemn ratifying seal. Amen. Wherewith he 
 
 ' Neque quicquam repent diguuui, quod ciim tempore suo permutaret. — 
 Sen. 
 
 '^ 2 Oor. V. 10. ^ Gen. xlv.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 405 
 
 leaves us to pause, and collect that thus it was brought about 
 that he could add, ' And I have the keys of the vast hades, 
 the whole unseen world, and of death.' 
 
 And God forbid that, now, these words should be with us 
 an empty sound or a dead letter ! " Let us cast in our minds 
 what manner of salutation this should be." Doth the Son 
 of God thus vouchsafe to bespeak misei-able abjects, perishing, 
 lost wretches ? How can we hereupon bvit bow our heads 
 and worship ! What agitations of aifection should we feel 
 within ! How should all our internal powers be moved ! and 
 our whole souls made " as the chariots of Amminadib." What 
 can we now be unwilling of, that he would have us be or do ? 
 And as that, whereof we may be assured he is most willing — 
 
 5. Let us entirehj receive him ; and absolutely resign our- 
 selves to him, as our Prince and Saviour. Who would not 
 covet to be in special relation to so mighty and so kind a 
 Lord ? And can you think to be related to him upon other 
 terms? And do you not know that upon these you may, 
 when in his gospel he offers himself, and demands you? 
 What can that mean but that you are to receive him, and 
 resign yourselves? The case is now brought to this state, 
 that you must either comply or rebel. And what ? rebel 
 against him who hath these keys, who is ia so high authority 
 over the whole unseen world ! who is the " head of all 
 principality and power," " who is gone into the heavens," 
 the glorious upper hades, and "is at the right hand of God ; 
 angels, authorities, powers being made subject to hiin!"^ We 
 little know or can conceive as yet, the several orders and 
 distinctions of the celestial inhabitants, and their great and 
 illustrious princes and potentates, "thrones, dominions," etc., 
 that all pay him a dutiful and a joyful subjection and obe- 
 dience. But do we not know " God hath given him a name 
 above every name ? and that in his name " — or at it, as it may 
 be read, that is, in acknowledgment of his sovereign power 
 — " every knee must bow, of things in heaven, on earth and 
 under earth, and aU confess that he is Lord, to the praise and 
 1 1 Pet. iii. 22.
 
 406 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 glory of God tlie Father ? " And who art thou, perishing 
 wretch ! that darest dispute his title ? or that, when all the 
 creation must be subject to him, wilt except thyself? 
 
 And when it cost him so dear, that his vast power might 
 be subservient to a design of grace, and thou must at last be 
 saved by him or lost for ever, — what can tempt thee to stand 
 out against such power and such grace ? 
 
 If thou wert to gratify thy ambition, how glorious a thing 
 is it to be a Christian ! a subject, a devoted homager to so 
 mighty a Prince ! If to provide against thy necessity and 
 distress, what course can be so sure and successful, as to fly 
 for refuge to so compassionate a Saviour ? And dost thou not 
 know there must be to this purpose an express transaction 
 between him and thee ? Wonder he wiU condescend to it ! 
 To capitulate with dust and ashes ! To article with his own 
 creature, with whom he may do what he will ! But his 
 merciful condescension herein is declared and known. If 
 there shall be a special relation settled between him and 
 thee, he hath told thee in what way it must be, that is, by 
 way of covenant- transaction and agreement, as he puts his 
 people of old in mind his way was with them; "I entered 
 into covenant with thee, and thou becamest mine." ^ This I 
 insist upon and press, as a thing of the greatest importance 
 imaginable, and the least thought of: nor *is* the strange 
 incongruity animadverted on, namely, that we have the 
 seals of such a covenant among us, but the covenant itself 
 slips through our hands. Our baptism soon after we were 
 born, with some federal words then, is thought enough, as if 
 we were a nation of always minors. Whoever therefore 
 thou art, that hearest these words or readest these lines; 
 know that the great Lord is express towards thee in his 
 gospel proposal : " Wilt thou accept me for thine, and resign 
 thyself as mine ?" He now expects and requires thy express 
 answer. Take his gospel as from the cross or take it as from 
 the throne, or as from both, it is the same gospel interwoven 
 of grace and authority, the richest grace and the highest 
 
 1 Ezek. xvi. 8.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE AVORLD. 407 
 
 authority, at once in\"itmg and requiring thee to commit and 
 submit thyself unto ]iim. Take heed lest his key turn before 
 thou have given thy complying answer, importing at once 
 both thy trust and thy subjection. 
 
 Give not over pleading with thyself with thy wayward, 
 stupid heart, till it can say to him, ' Lord, I yield ; thou hast 
 overcome,' — till with tender relentings thou hast thrown 
 thyself at his feet and told him, ' Lord, I am ashamed, I am 
 confounded within myself, that thou shouldst die upon a cross 
 to obtain thy high power, and that thou art now ready to use 
 it for the saving so vile a miscreant as I ! That when thou 
 hast so vast an unknown world, so numberless myriads of 
 excellent creatures in thy obedience, thou shouldst yet think 
 it worth thy while to look after me ! and that I should so 
 long have withstood thy kind and gracious overtures and 
 intendments ! forgive my wicked aversion ! I now accept 
 and resign.' 
 
 And now this being sincerely done, with fulness of consent, 
 with deep humility, with j'earning bowels, with mifeigned 
 thankfulness, and an inward complacency and gladness of 
 heart, — 
 
 6. Let youx following course in this world be ordered agree- 
 ably hereto, in continued dependence and subjection. " As 
 we have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so" we are "towallc 
 in him."^ Take him according to the titles here given him, 
 as " Christ," — a Person anointed, authorized, qualified to be 
 both "Jesus," a Saviour, — so we are to walk, according to 
 our first reception of him, in continual dependence on his 
 saving mercy, — and a " Lord," or as it is here expressed with 
 eminency, "the Lord;" so we are to walk in continual sub- 
 jection to his governing power : otherwise our receiving him, 
 at first, under these notions, hath nothing in it but mockery 
 and collusion. 
 
 But if his obtaining these kej's upon the terms here expressed, 
 " as having been dead, and now living," and having "over- 
 come death," " did signify his having them for saving purposes, 
 ' Col. ii. G. 2 As it is also Rom. xiv. 9.
 
 408 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 — as it must, since for otlier purposes lie had them sufficiently 
 before ; and if we reckoned this a reasonable inducement 
 to receive him and commit and entrust ourselves to him as 
 a Saviour, that he died and overcame death — for his grace in 
 yielding to die had not rendered him a competent object of 
 trust, otherwise than in conjunction with his power in over- 
 coming death, and so gaining into his hands these keys : — 
 then, the same reason still remaining, how constant an encou- 
 ragement have we to continue accordingly walking in him all 
 our days ! How potent an argument should it be to us, " to 
 live that life which we live in the flesh, by faith in the Son 
 of God, who loved us, and gave himself for us!"^ that is, 
 inasmuch as having been crucified with him, which is also 
 there expressed, we feel "ourselves to live nevertheless," yet 
 so as that it is not so much " we that live, as Christ that liveth 
 in us ;" who could not live in us, or be to us a spring of Kfe, 
 if he were not a perpetual spring of life in himself. 
 
 And consider, how darest thou live otherwise in "this flesh," 
 in this " earthly house," whereof he keeps the keys and can 
 fetch thee out at his pleasure ? when he hath warned thee 
 " to abide in him, that when he shall appear, thou mayest 
 have confidence, and not be ashamed at his coming." ^ He 
 will certainly then appear, when he comes to open the door, 
 and dislodge thee from "this flesh" (though there be here a 
 further and final reference to another appearance and coming 
 of his) ; and if he then find thee severed and disjoined from 
 him — thy first closure with him not having been sincere, 
 truly unitive and vital — how terribly will he look, how con- 
 founded wilt thou look in that hour ! 
 
 Neither hast thou less reason to live in continual subjection 
 to him, considering that as he died and overcame death that 
 he might have these keys, so he now hath them, and thou art 
 under his governing power. The more thou considerest his 
 right to govern, the less thou wilt dispute it. When he was 
 spoken of as " a Child to us born," that he might become a 
 "Man of sorrows," and be " sorrowful unto the death," and have 
 > Gal. ii. 20. ^ 1 Joliu ii. 28.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 409 
 
 all the sorrows of death come upon him, he is at the same 
 time said to be the "mighty God," and it was declared the 
 "government should be upon his shoidder."^ As he was 
 the "first begotten from the dead," namely, both submitting 
 to death and conquering it ; so he was the " Prmce of the 
 kings of the earth," (a small part of his kingdom too,) his 
 throne being founded on his cross, his governing power in 
 his sacrifice ; that is, the power whereby he so governs, 
 as that he may also save ; making these two things — the 
 salving the rights of the Godhead, injured by sin, and the 
 delivering of the sinner from an eternal ruin — to agree and 
 consist with one another. 
 
 What an endearing obligation is this to obey — " that he 
 will be the Author of eternal salvation to them that obey him ! " 
 inasmuch as, while our obedience cannot merit the least thing 
 from him, yet his vouchsafing to govern us doth most highly 
 merit from us. For he governs " by writing his law in the 
 heart," which makes our heart agree with the law, and by 
 implanting Divine love in us, which vanquishes enmity and 
 disaffection and virtually contains in itself our obedience, or 
 " keeping his commandments." ^ Therefore this government of 
 his over us is naturally necessary to our salvation and blessed- 
 ness, and is the inchoation and beginning of it, as our perfected 
 love to God and conformity to his nature and will, do involve 
 and contain in themselves our complete and perfect blessedness ; 
 with which a continued enmity or a rebellious, mutinous dis- 
 position against God is naturally inconsistent ; and would be 
 to us and in us a perpetual, everlasting hell. 
 
 There can therefore be no enthralling servitude in such 
 obedience, but the truest liberty ; that by which the Son 
 makes us free indeed. ^ Yea, a true sort of royalty : for 
 hereby we come in the most allowable sense, to live as we 
 will, our will being conformed to the will of God. Where- 
 upon that was no high extravagant rant, but a sober expres- 
 sion, 'We are born in a kingdom ; to serve God is to reign.'* 
 
 And we know this to be the will of God, " that all should 
 
 ^ Isa. ix. 6. ^ Johnxiv. 15, 23; IJohn v. 3. ^ John viii. 36. "• Seueca. 
 
 VOL. II. T
 
 410 THE redeemer's DOMINION 
 
 honour the Son, even as they honour the Father."^ Herewith 
 will the evangelically obedient comport with high compla- 
 cency, accounting him most highly worthy that it should be 
 so. Wherein therefore the Christian law seems strictest and 
 most rigorous, in the enjoined observance of our Lord Christ, 
 herein we shall discern an unexceptionable reasonableness and 
 comply with a complacential approbation. And let us put 
 our own hearts to it, and see that withovit regret or obmur- 
 muration they can readily consent to the equity of the precept. 
 
 It is enjoined us (constructively at least) that because 
 "Christ died for us, when we were dead," — quite lost in death, 
 — "we that live" hereupon should settle this with ourselves 
 as a fixed judgment, and upon that intervening judgment 
 yield to the "constraint" of his love, so as "henceforth no 
 more to live to ourselves ;" as much as to say, God forbid we 
 should henceforth be so profane ; we must now for ever have 
 done with that impious, unlawful way of living ! What ! 
 after this, that we have so fully understood the state of our 
 case ? that we should be so assuming, as ever again to offer 
 at such a thing, as living to ourselves, to make ourselves 
 deities to ourselves: or to live otherwise "than unto him 
 who died for us and rose again ?"^ This is high and great, 
 and may seem strict and severe. What ! to have the whole 
 stream of all the actions and aims, the strength and vigour 
 of our lives, to be carried in one entire undivided current 
 unto him, and — as it must be understood. Gal. ii. 19 — to 
 God in him, so as never more to live to ourselves, a divided, 
 separate life apart from him, or wherein we shall not finally 
 and more principally design for him I How high is his 
 claim — but how equal and grateful to a right mind ! With 
 what a plenitude of consent is every Divine command — 
 taking this into the account — " esteemed to be right in all 
 things ;" so as that whatsoever is opposite is "hated as a false 
 way."^ And as the precept carries its own visible reason, 
 the "keeping of it" carries its own "reward" in itself.* 
 And is it too much for him who bears these keys and obtained 
 
 1 Johu V. 23. - 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. ^ ps_ exix. 128. •* Ps. xix. 11.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE -WORLD. 411 
 
 them on such terms and for svich ends, * that we are * to be 
 thus affected towards him ? 
 
 We are required without exception, without limitation or 
 reserve, "whatsoever we do," whether in word or work, "to 
 do all in the name of the Lord Jesus." ^ 
 
 Inquire we, — Do oiu' hearts repine at this law? Do not 
 we, doth not this world, owe so much to him ? AVhy are 
 we allowed a place and a time here ? Why is not this world 
 a flaming theatre? Is it not lit every one shoidd know 
 under whose government they live ? by whose beneficence, 
 xmder whose protection, and in whose name they may act so 
 or so, and by whose authority, — either obliging or not re- 
 straining them, requiring or licensing them to do this or 
 that? Doth this world owe less to Him that bears these 
 keys, than Egypt did to Joseph, when thus the royal Avord 
 went forth in reference to him : — "I am Pharaoh, and with- 
 out thee shall no man lift up his hand or foot in all the land 
 of Egypt ?" How pleasant shoidd it be to om- soids, often 
 to remember and think on that "name" of his which we 
 bear,^ and draw in as vital breath, the " sweet odours " of it.^ 
 How glorious a thing should we count it, because he is the 
 Lord our God, to walk in- his name for ever and ever, as 
 all people will wallc every one in the name of their god ! ^ 
 And then we shall account it no Jiard law, " whatsoever we do, 
 to do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to 
 Godand the Father by him," and /or him; blessing God every 
 day that we are put by him under the mild and merciful 
 government of a Redeemer. Then we shall rejoicingly avow, 
 as the apostle doth, " that we are not A\ithout law to God, 
 but under the law to Christ." '" 
 
 Whereupon, when you find your special relation is thus 
 settled and fixed unto the great Lord both of this present 
 visible world and of hades or the invisible world also, by 
 your solemn covenant with him, and evidenced bj^ the con- 
 
 1 Col. iii. 17. 2 isa. xxvi. 8 ; Mai. iii. 18. 
 
 3 Cajut. i. 3; Ps. xlv. G— 11 ; John xx. 28. •* Mic, iv. 5. ^ 1 Cor. ix. 21. 
 
 t2
 
 412 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 tiiiued correspondency of your heart and life, your dispo- 
 sitions and actions thereunto ; — 
 
 7. Do not regret or dread to pass out of the one world into 
 the other at his call and under his conduct, though through 
 the dark passage of death, remembering the keys are in so 
 great and so kind a hand, and that his good pleasure herein 
 is no more to be distrusted than to be disputed or withstood. 
 Let it be enough to you, that what you cannot see yourself, 
 he sees for you. You have oft desired your ways, your 
 motions, your removals from place to place, might be directed 
 by him in the world. Have you never said, " If thou go not 
 with me, carry me not hence?" How safely and fearlessly 
 may you follow him blindfold or in the dark any whither ; 
 not only from place to place, in this world, but from world to 
 world ! How lightsome soever the one, and gloomy and dark 
 the other may seem to you, " darkness and light are to him 
 alike." To him hades is no hades, nor is the dark way that 
 leads into it to him an untrodden path. Shrink not at the 
 thoughts of this translation, though it be not by escaping 
 death, but even through the jaws of it. 
 
 We commonly excuse our aversion to die, by alleging 
 that nature regrets it. But we do not enough consider that, 
 in such a compounded sort of creature as we are, the word 
 nature must be ambiguous. There is in us a sensitive 
 nature that regrets it ; but taking the case as it is now stated, 
 can we think it tolerable that it should be regretted by the 
 reasonable nature ; unto which, if we appeal, can we suppose 
 it so untrue to itself, as not to assert its own superiority ? or 
 to judge it fit that an intelligent, immortal spirit, capable of 
 so great things in another world, should be content with a 
 long abode here, only to keep a well-figured piece of flesh 
 from putrifying, or give it the satisfaction of tasting meats 
 and drinks that are grateful to it, for a few years ? And if 
 for a few, why not for many ? and when those many were 
 expired, why not for as many more ? And the same reason 
 always remaining, why not for always ? The case is thus pvit, 
 because the common meaning of this allegation, that nature
 
 OVER THE IX^^STBLE WORLD. 413 
 
 regrets or abhors tliis dissolution, is, not that tlie}^ are con- 
 cerned for their souls how it may fare with them in another 
 world, — which the most little mind or trouble themselves 
 about, — ^but that they are to have what is grateful to them in 
 this world. And was this the end a reasonahle spirit was 
 made for, when, without reason, sense were alike capable of 
 the same sort of gratifications ? What law, what equity, 
 what rule of decency can oblige the soul of a man capable of 
 the society and enjoj^nents of angels, to this piece of self- 
 denial for the sake of his incomparably baser body ? Or can 
 make it fit that the nobler and more excellent nature should 
 be eternally subservient to the meaner and more ignoble ? 
 Especially considering that if (according to the case supposed) 
 the two last foregoing directions be complied with, there is a 
 sort of Divine nature superadded to the whole human nature, 
 that cannot but prompt the soul ennobled by it, to aspire to 
 suitable, even to the highest, opei'ations and enjopnents 
 whereof it is capable, and which are not attainable in this 
 present bodily state. 
 
 And if there were still a dispute between nature and nature, 
 it is enough that the great Lord of hades, and of this present 
 sensible world too, will determine it. In a far lower instance, 
 when the general of an armj^ commands it uj)on an enterprise 
 wherein life is to be hazarded, it woidd be an ill excuse of a 
 cowardly declining, to say, their nature regrets and dreads 
 the adventure. The thing is necessary. Against what is so 
 unavoidable as death, that is an abject mind that reluctates.^ 
 Come, then, let us embolden ourselves, and when he brings 
 the key, dare to die. It is to obey and enjoy him Mho is over 
 life and our all. Say we cheerfidly each of us, " Lord Jesus, 
 receive my spirit ; into thy hands I commit it who hast 
 redeemed it." 
 
 8. Let us quietly submit to Divine disposal, when our dear 
 
 friends and relatives are by death taken away from us. For 
 
 consider into what hands this affair is put, — of ordering every 
 
 one's decease, and removal out of this into the other world, 
 
 ^ Miser est qiiicunque nou vult, muudo seciun ruoriente, mori. — Sen. Tr.
 
 414 THE redeemer's domixion 
 
 and who hath, these keys. It is such a one, whose right, if 
 we uke our thoughts, we will not allow ourselves to dispute, 
 or to censure his administration. His original right is that 
 of a Creator and a God : "for all things were created for him, 
 and by him," ^ " and without him was nothing made that 
 was made ;" ^ " the first and the last^' to all things.^ 
 
 His supervening right was that of a Redeemer, as hath been 
 already noted from this context, and as such he had it by 
 acquisition, dying to obtain it, and overcoming death. " I am 
 he that liveth and was dead." And then, as he elsewhere 
 declares, by comtitution, " All power is given me both in 
 heaven and on earth." '^ The word i^ovaia imports rightful 
 power. And who are we, or any relatives of ours, whom all 
 the power of heaven and earth hath no right to touch ? What 
 exempt jurisdiction can we pretend ourselves to belong unto ? 
 
 Or will we adventure to say, not denying his right, he did 
 not use it well in this case ? Who is more fitly qualified to 
 judge, than he that hath these keys? And let this matter 
 be yet more thoroughly discussed. What is it that we find 
 fault with in the removal of this or that person that was near 
 and delightful to us ? Is it that he was to die at all ? or that 
 he died so soon ? If we say the former ; do we blame the 
 constitution, appointing all men once to die, by which this 
 world is made a portal to another for ail men, and whence it 
 Avas necessary none should stay long in this, but only pass 
 through into that world wherein every one is to have his 
 everlasting abode ? Or is it that, when we think it not unfit 
 this should be the general and common course, there should 
 yet have been a particular dispensation for this friend or 
 relation of mine ? 
 
 Let the former be supposed the thing we quarrel at, and 
 consider the intolerable consequences of the matter's being- 
 otherwise, as the case is with this apostate, sinful world : such 
 as upon second, better-weighed thoughts, we would abhor to 
 admit into our minds, even as the matter of a wish. What ! 
 ■would we wish to mankind a sinning immortality on this 
 1 Col. L 16. 2 John i. 2. ^ p,ev. i. 17, * Matt, xxviii. 19.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 415 
 
 earth, before wliicli a wise lieatlien professed to ' prefer one 
 day virtuously spent ? ' ^ Would we wish, this world to be 
 the everlasting stage of indignities and affronts to him that 
 made it ? AVould we wish there should never be a judgment- 
 day ? and that all the wise and righteous counsels of Heaven 
 should be reversed and overturned, only to comport with our 
 terrene and sensual inclinations ? Is this our dutifulness and 
 loyal affection to our blessed Lord, the Author of our beings 
 and the God of our lives, whose rights and honours should be 
 infinitely dearer to us than ourselves ? Is it our kindness to 
 ourselves and all others of our kind and order, that are all 
 naturally capable, and many, by gracious vouch safement, fitly 
 qualified, to enjoy a perfect felicity in another world, that we 
 would have all together confined for ever to this region of 
 darkness, impurity, and misery ? 
 
 Or if it displease us that our relatives are not, by some 
 special dispensation, excepted from the common law of mor- 
 tality, we would, surelj'', as much have expected an exemption 
 ourselves ; otherwise our dying away from them would make 
 the so much regretted separation, as well as theirs from vs. 
 And what, then, if we were required to draw up our petition ? 
 to put it into express words ? to turn our wish for ourselves 
 and all our relatives and peculiar friends, into a formed, 
 solemn prayer, to this effect, ' that we are content the law 
 stand in force, that all the world should die, with only the 
 exception of some few names, namely, our own, and of our 
 kindred, and more inward friends ? ' What ashamed, con- 
 founded creatures should we be upon the view of our own 
 request ! Would we not presently be for quelling and sup- 
 pressing it, and easily yield to be nonsuited without more 
 ado ? What pretence can we have not to think others as apt 
 to make the same request for them and theirs ? ' And if all 
 the rest of the world shall die, would we and our friends 
 dwell here alone ? or would we have this world be continued 
 habitable only on this private account, to gratify a famil}' ? 
 And if we and our friends be holy, heavenlj^-minded persons, 
 
 ^ Cicero.
 
 416 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 •llow kind were it to wisli to ourselves and them, wlien fit for 
 the society of angels and blessed spirits above, a perpetual 
 abode in this low earthly state ! Would we not now, upon 
 riper, second thoughts, rather be content that things should 
 rest as they are, and he that hath these keys use them his 
 own way ? 
 
 But if by all this we are put quite out of conceit with the 
 desire of a terrestrial immortality, all that the matter finally 
 results into is, that we think such a relative of ours died too 
 soon. We would not have coveted for him an eternity on 
 earth, but only more time. And how much more ? or for 
 what ? If we were to set the time, it is like that when it 
 comes, we should be as averse to a separation, if coexistent, 
 then as now ; and so we revolve into the exploded desire of a 
 terrestrial immortality back again at last. If we were to 
 assign the reason of our desire, that would seem, as in the 
 present case, a plausible one to some, which is mentioned by 
 Plutarch in his consolation to ApoUonius for the loss of his 
 son, concerning another such case — as he instances in many 
 — of one Elysius an Italian ; whose loss of his son Euthynous 
 was much aggravated by this, that 'he was a great heir.' 
 But what was said to that, there, and what is further to be 
 said to anything of that kind, I shall reserve to a more 
 proper place. 
 
 It is a more weighty allegation and of more common con- 
 cernment, when a useful person is gone, and one very 
 capable of becoming very eminently so. And this requires 
 deeper consideration, and sundry things ought to be con- 
 sidered in order to the quieting their minds who are apt to 
 behold such darker dispensations in the course of Providence, 
 with amusement, and disturbance of spirit ; that is, when they 
 see persons of excellent endowments and external advantages, 
 beyond the most, cut off in their prime ; while the world is 
 cumbered with drones never likely to do good, and pestered 
 with such as are like to prove plagues to it and do great hurt 
 and mischief to the age wherein they live : an ancient and 
 not imcommon scruple to pious observers heretofore. "Where-
 
 OYER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 417 
 
 fore," says holy Job, " do the wicked live, become old, yea, 
 are mighty in power ? Their seed is established in their 
 sight," 1 when his seed was cut off before his eyes. And 
 here let us consider : — 
 
 (1.) That this world is in apostasy from God : and though 
 he is pleased to use apt means for its recovery, he doth what 
 he thinks lit herein, of mere grace and favour, and is under 
 no obligation to do all that he can. His dispensation herein 
 must correspond to, and bear upon it the impress of, other 
 Divine perfections, his wisdom, holiness, justice, as well as 
 grace. And for grace itself; — whereas all since the apostasy 
 lie together in a fearful gulf of impurity and misery, and 
 some, made more early sensible hereof than the most, do 
 stretch out a craving hand and cry for help ; if now a mer- 
 ciful hand, reached down from heaven, take hold of them and 
 pluck them sooner out, is this disagreeable to the God of all 
 grace, to make some such instances, and vouchsafe them an 
 earlier deliverance, though they might, being longer delayed, 
 be some way helpful to others, that continue stupid and 
 insensible ? 
 
 (2.) When he hath done much, in an age still obstinately 
 unreclaimable, he may be supposed to let one appear only, 
 with a promising aspect, and in just displeasure presently 
 withdraw him, that they may understand they have forfeited 
 such a blessing to this or that country, as such a one might 
 have proved. 
 
 (3.) This may awaken some, the more to prize and improve 
 the encouragements they may have from such as remain, or 
 shall spring up in their stead who are gone, and to bless God 
 that the weight of his interest and of the cause of religion 
 doth not hang and depend upon the slender thread of this 
 man's life. " The God of the spirits of all flesh" can raise 
 up instruments as he pleases ; and will, to serve his own pur- 
 poses, though not ours. 
 
 (4.) He will have it known that though he uses instruments, 
 he needs them not. It is a piece of Divine royalty and mag- 
 1 Job xxi. 7, 8. 
 
 T 3
 
 418 THE redeemer's domi>:iox 
 
 nificence, that when he hath prepared and polished such a 
 utensil, so as to be capable of great service, he can lay it by 
 without loss. 
 
 (5.) They that are most qualified to be of greatest use in this 
 world, are thereby also the more capable of blessedness in 
 the other.. It is owing to his most munificent bounty that he 
 may vouchsafe to reward sincere intentions as highly as great 
 services. He took David's " having it in his heart " to build 
 him a house, as kindly as Solomon's building him one ; and 
 as much magnifies himself in testifying his acceptance of 
 such as he discharges from his service here, at the " third 
 hour," as of them whom he engages not in it till the 
 " eleventh." 
 
 (6.) Of their early piety he makes great present use in this 
 world, testifying his acceptance of their works generally in 
 his word, and imrticukirhj by the reputation he procures to 
 them in the minds and consciences of such as were best able 
 to judge, and even of all that knew them ; which may be 
 tridy accounted a Divine testimony, both in respect of the 
 object, which hath on it a Divine impress and speaks the self- 
 recommending power of true goodness, which is the image 
 of God ; and in respect of the mhjcct, shows the dominion 
 God hath over minds, engaging not only good men to behold 
 with complacency such pleasant, blooming goodness, cor- 
 respondent to their own; but even bad men to approve in 
 these others, what they entertain not in themselves. The 
 same things are accepted with God, and approved of men.^ 
 " Thus being dead, they," as Abel, " yet speak." ^ 
 
 (7.) And it is a brighter and more unsullied testimony, 
 which is left in the minds of men concerning such very 
 hopeful persons as die in their youth. They never were 
 otherwise known or can be remembered than as excellent 
 young persons. This is the only idea which remains of 
 them. Had they lived longer to the usual age of man, the 
 remembrance of what they were in youth would have been in 
 a great degree effaced and worn out by latter things ; per- 
 ^ Rom. xiv. IS. 2 Heb. xi. 4.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 419 
 
 haps blackened, not by what Avere less commendable, but 
 more ungrateful to the greater part, especially if they lived 
 to come into public stations. Their just zeal and contesta- 
 tions against the wickedness of the age, might disoblige 
 many, and create them enemies who would make it their 
 business to blast them, and cast upon their name and me- 
 mory all the reproach they could invent : whereas the lustre 
 of that virtue and piety which had provoked nobody, appears 
 only with an amiable look, and leaves behind nothing of such 
 a person, but a fair, unblemished, alluring, and instructive 
 example ; which they that observed them, might with less 
 prejudiced minds compare with the useless, vicious lives of 
 many that they see to have filled up a room in the world 
 imto extreme old age, either to no purpose, or to very bad. 
 And how vast is the difference in respect of usefulness to the 
 world, between a pious, yomig gentleman dying in his youth, 
 that lived long in a little time, untainted by youthful lusts 
 and vanities, and victorious over them ; and an " accursed 
 sinner of a himdred years old ; "^ one that was an infant of 
 days, and though a hundred years old, yet stiD. a child; 
 that had not filled up his days with anything of real value or 
 profit to himself or others, — as some very judicious expositors 
 understand that text ; that (as he " aptly speaks) had nothing 
 besides grey hairs and wrinkles, to make him be thought a 
 long liver ; but who might truly be said not to have ' lived 
 long,' but only to have 'been long' in the world. How 
 sweet and fragrant a memory doth the one, how rotten and 
 stinking a name doth the other, leave behind him to sur- 
 
 vivors 
 
 Therefore such very valuable young persons as are taken 
 hence in the flower of their age are not to be thought, upon 
 that account of usefulness to this world, to have lived in it 
 that shorter time in vain. 
 
 They leave behind them that testimony which will turn to 
 
 1 Isa. Ixv. 20. 
 
 - Non est quod qiienqnam propter canos aut rugas, putes din vixisse. 
 Non ille diu \'ixit, sed diu fiiit. — Sen.
 
 420 THE kedeemer's dominion 
 
 account ; both for tlie glory of God's grace, wliich lie hath 
 exemplified in them and which may be improved to the good 
 of many who shall have seen that a holy life, amidst the 
 temptations that the youthful age is exposed to, is no im- 
 practicable thing ; and that an early death is as possible also 
 to themselves. 
 
 But besides their no little usefulness in this world, which 
 they leave, we must know — 
 
 (8.) That the affairs and concernments of the other world, 
 whither they go, are incomparably greater every way, and 
 nnich more considerable. And to this most unquestionable 
 maxim must be our last and final resort, in the present case. 
 All the perturbation and discomposure of mind, which we 
 suffer upon any such occasion, arises chiefly from our having 
 too hig-h and o^reat thou<?hts of this world, and too low and 
 diminishing thoughts of the other ; and the evil must be 
 remedied by rectifying our apprehensions in this matter. 
 Because that other world is hades, unseen and not within the 
 verge of our sense, our sensual minds are prone to make of it 
 a very little thing, and even next to nothing, as too many 
 will have it to be quite nothing at all. We are concerned, 
 in duty to our blessed Redeemer and Lord and for his just 
 honour, to magnify this his prefecture, and render it as 
 great to ourselves as the matter requires and as our very 
 narrow minds can admit ; and should labour to correct it as 
 a great and too common fault, a very gross vulgar error, to 
 conceive of persons leaving this world of ours, as if they 
 hereby became useless ; and, upon the matter, lost out of the 
 creation of God. So is our fancy prepossessed and filled with 
 delusive images that throng in ujDon it through our unwary 
 senses, that we imagine this little spot of our earth to be the 
 only place of business, and all the rest of the creation to be 
 mere vacuity, vast, empty space, where there is nothing to 
 do and nothing to be enjoyed. Not that these are formed, 
 positive thoughts or a settled judgment with good men, but 
 they are floating imaginations, so continually obtruded upon 
 them, from — wliat lies next — the objects of sense, that they
 
 OYER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 421 
 
 have more influence to afiect the heart and infer suitable, 
 sudden, and indeliberate emotions of spirit than the most 
 formed judgment, grounded on things that lie Avithout the 
 sphere of sense, can outweigh. 
 
 And hence when a good man dies, elder or younger, the 
 common cry is among the better sort — for tlie other do less 
 concern themselves — ' Oh what a loss is this ! Not to be 
 repaired ! not to be borne ! ' Indeed, this is better than the 
 common stupidity, — not to consider, not " to take it to heart, 
 when the righteous man perisheth, or is taken away." And 
 the law of our own nature obliges and prompts us, to feel 
 and regret the losses which afflict us. But such resentments 
 ought to be followed and qualified by greater thoughts, 
 arising from a superior nature, that ought presently to take 
 place with us, of the nobler employments which God calls 
 such unto, "of whom this world was not worthy ;"i and 
 how highly his great and all-comprehending interest is to be 
 preferred before our own, or the interest of this or that 
 family, country, or nation on earth ! 
 
 And, at once, both to enlarge and quiet our minds on 
 such occasions, we should particularly consider, — 
 
 i. The vast amplitude of the heavenly hades in comparison 
 of our minute spot of earth or of that dark region — whereso- 
 ever it is — reserved .for the just pmiishment of delinquents, 
 according to such intimations as the Holy Scriptures give us 
 hereof; which being writ only for the use of us on earth, 
 cannot be supposed to intend the giving us more distinct 
 accounts of the state of things in the upper world than were 
 necessary for us in this our present state. 
 
 But it is no obscure hint that is given of the spaciousness 
 of the heavenly regions, when, purposely to represent the 
 Divine immensity, it is said of the unconfined presence of the 
 great God, that even " heaven and the heaven of heavens 
 cannot contain him."^ How vast scope is given to our 
 thinking minds to conceive heavens above heavens, encircling 
 one another, till we have quite tired our faculty, and yet we 
 1 Heb. xi. 38. - 1 Kings viii. 27 ; 2 Chrou. vi. 18.
 
 422 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 know not liow far sliort we are of the utmost verge ! And 
 when our Lord is said to liave ascended '\far above all 
 heavens,"^ whose arithmetic will suffice to tell how many 
 they are ? whose uranography to describe how far that is ? 
 
 We need not impose it upon ourselves to judge their rules 
 infallible, who, being of no mean understanding nor indili- 
 gent in their inquiries, have thought it not improbable that 
 there may be fixed stars within view, at that distance from 
 our earth, that a movable, in as swift motion as that of a 
 bullet shot from a cannon, would be fifty thousand years in 
 passing from the one to the other." But how much remoter 
 that star may be from the utmost verge of the universe, is 
 left altogether unimaginable. I have been told that a very 
 ingenious artist going about, in exact proportions, to describe 
 the orb or vortex to which our sun belongs, on as large a 
 table as could be convenient for him to work upon, was at a 
 loss to find a spot not too big, in proportion, for our earth, 
 and big enough whereupon to place the point, made very 
 fine, of one foot of his compass. 
 
 If any suspect extravagancy in our modern computations, 
 let him take a view of what is discoursed to this purpose by 
 a writer of most unexceptionable wisdom and sobriety, — as 
 well as most eminent sanctity, — in his time.^ 
 
 1 Ephes. iv. 10. 
 
 2 Computation hj tlie Hon. Francis Roberts, Esq. Philosoiihical Trans- 
 actions for the months March and April, 1694. 
 
 ^ Bolton, in his Four Last Things, who, speaking of heaven, directs xis to 
 guess the immeasurable magnitude of it, as otherwise, so by the incredible 
 distance from the earth to the starry firmament; and adds, 'If I shoidd 
 here tell you the several computations of astronomers, in this kind, the sums 
 would seem to exceed all possibility of Ijelief. ' And he annexes in his margin 
 sundry computations, which I shall not here recite ; you may find them in 
 the author himself, p. 21. And yet besides, as he further adds, the late 
 learnedest of them place above the eighth sphere, wherein all those glo- 
 rious lamps shine so bright, tlu'ce moving orbs more. Now the empyrean 
 heaven comprehends all these ; how incomprehensible, then, must its com- 
 pass and greatness necessarily be ! But he supposes it possiljle, the adven- 
 ture of mathematicians may be too audacious and peremptory, etc. ; and 
 concludes the height and extent of the heavens to be beyond aU himian 
 investigation.
 
 OVER TKE INVISIBLE WORLD. 423 
 
 Now wlien the Lord of this vast universe belield upon this 
 little spot intelligent creatures in transgression and misery, 
 — that he did so compassionately concern himself for the 
 recovery of such as should, by apt methods, be induced to 
 comj)ly with his merciful design, and appoint his own eternal 
 Son to be their Redeemer ; in order whereto, as he was " God 
 with God," he must also become man among men, one of 
 themselves, and so as " God-man," for his kindness to some, 
 be constituted universal Lord of all ; — shall mere pity towards 
 this world greaten it above the other ? 
 
 But we are not left without ground to apprehend a more 
 immediate reason for his being, as Redeemer, made Head and 
 Lord of all those creatures that were the original inhabitants 
 of the invisible world. For when it had been said, " that 
 all things were created by him,"^ not only the visible things 
 on earth, but the invisible things in heaven, here is a regres- 
 sion to these latter, who were before — for their greater 
 dignity — generally first mentioned, and now some enume- 
 ration given of them, " whether they be thrones, or domi- 
 nions, or principalities, or powers ; " and " all things," — again 
 repeated that these might appear expressly included, — * are * 
 said over again "to be created by him, and for him," which 
 was sufficient to express his creative right in them. It is 
 presently subjoined, and "he is before all things, and by him 
 all things consist." ^ All owe their stability to him, namely, 
 the mentioned thrones, dominions, etc., as well as other 
 things. But how ? or upon what terms ? That we might 
 understand his redemptory right was not here to be over- 
 looked, it is shortly after added, " and having made peace by 
 the blood of his cross, it pleased the Father " (to be repeated 
 out of what went before) "by him to reconcile all thino-s 
 to himself;" and this "by him" iterated, as much as to 
 say, by him shedding his blood on the cross, " whether they 
 be things on earth, or things in heaven," lest the thrones, 
 dominions, mentioned before, shoidd be forgot. And a word 
 is used accommodable enough to the several purposes before 
 1 Col. i. 16. 2 Ver. 17.
 
 424 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 expressed, — a-TroKaraXAa^at, — whicli dotli not always suppose 
 enmity, but more generally signify, upon a sort of commu- 
 tation or valuable consideration, to procure or conciliate, or 
 make a thing more firmly one's own or assure it to bimself, 
 though it is afterwards used in the stricter sense. ^ 
 
 I have often considered with wonder and pleasure, that 
 whereas God is called by that higher and far more extensive 
 name, " the Father of spirits ; " he is also pleased so gra- 
 ciously to vouchsafe as to be styled " the God of the spirits 
 of all flesh," and thereby to signify that having an order of 
 spirits so meanly lodged that inhabit frail and mortal flesh, 
 though he have a world of spirits to converse with, " whose 
 dwelling is not with flesh ; " yet he disdains not a relation to 
 so mean and abject spirits — " his offspring also " — in our 
 world. And that, because this was the place of offending 
 delinquents that he would recover, the Iledeemer should sort 
 himself with them, and, as they were " partakers of flesh and 
 blood, himself likewise take part of the same " — this was 
 great and Godlike ; and speaks the largeness and amplitude 
 of an all- comprehending mind, common to Father and Son, 
 and capable of so applying itself to the greatest things, as 
 not to neglect the least : and therefore so much the more 
 magnifies God and our Redeemer, by how much the less 
 considerable we and our world are. But that hence we 
 should so over-magnify this world, as if nothing were consi- 
 derable that lies without its compass, is most perversely to 
 misconstrue the most amazing condescension. 
 
 The Spirit of God, by holy David, teaches us to reason the 
 quite contrary way ; and from the consideration he had of 
 the vastness and splendour of the upper world, "of the 
 heavens, the moon and stars," etc, not to magnify, but dimi- 
 nish our world of mankind, and say, "What is man?" 
 
 And let us further consider, — 
 
 ii. The inexpressible numerousness of the other world's 
 inhabitants, with the excellencies wherein they shine and the 
 orders they are ranked into ; and how unlikely is it that holy 
 
 1 Col. i. 21.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 425 
 
 souls, that go thitlier, should want employment. Great 
 concourse and multitudes of people make places of business 
 in this world, and must much more do so where creatures of 
 the most spiritual and active natures must be supposed to 
 have their residence. Scripture speaks of myriads (which we 
 read "an innumerable company") of "angels," besides "all 
 the spirits of just men ;"i who are sometimes said to be more 
 than any one^ — which we causelessly render man — could 
 nimiber.^ And when we are told of many " heavens, above 
 all which our Lord Jesus is said to have ascended;" are all 
 those heavens only empty solitudes ? uninhabited glorious 
 deserts ? When we find how full of vitality this base earth 
 of ours is, how replenished with living creatures, not only on 
 the surface, but within it ; how unreasonable is it to suppose 
 the nobler parts of the universe to be less peopled with inha- 
 bitants, of proportionable spirituality, activity, liveliness and 
 vigour to the several regions, which, the remoter they are 
 from didl earth, must be supposed still the finer, and apt to 
 afford fit and suitable habitations to such creatures ? Whether 
 we suppose pure, unclothed spirits to be the natives in all 
 those heavens, all comprehended under the one name of 
 " angels," or whether — as some think of all created spirits — 
 thd,t they have all vital union with some or other vehicles, 
 ethereal or celestial, more or less fine and pure as the region 
 is to which they belong, having gradually associated unto 
 them the spirits of holy men gone from us, which are said to 
 be to-ayyeAoi, angels' fellows,* it is indifferent to our purpose. 
 
 Let us only consider them all, as intelligent, spiritual 
 beings, full of holy light, life, active power, and love to their 
 common Lord and one another. And can we imagine their 
 state to be a state of torpid silence, idleness, and inactivity, 
 or that they have not much higher and nobler woi'k to do 
 there than they can have in such a world as this, or in such 
 bodies as here they lug to and fro ? 
 
 And the Scriptures are not altogether silent concerning the 
 distinct orders of those glorious creatures, that inhabit all 
 ^ Heb. xii. - ovbeh. ^ E,ev. vii. '' Luke xx. 36.
 
 426 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 the lieavens, whicli this upper hades must be understood to 
 contain ; though it hath not provided to gratify any one's 
 curiosity, so far as to give us particular accounts of their 
 differences and distinctions. And though we are not war- 
 ranted to believe such conjectures concerning them as we 
 find in the supposititious Dionysius' Celestial Hierarchy, or 
 much less the idler dreams of Valentinus and the Gnostics 
 about their ^l^ons, with divers more such fictions, yet we are 
 not to neglect what God hath expressly told us, namely, 
 that giving us some account of the creation in the hades, 
 or the invisible part of it, there are " thrones, dominions, 
 principalities, j^owers, angels," and elsewhere "archangels," 
 "authorities,"^ which, being terms that import order and 
 government, can scarce allow us not to conceive, that of 
 all those numberless multitudes of glorious creatures that 
 replenish and people those spacious regions of light and bliss, 
 there are none who belong not to some or other of those 
 principalities and dominions. 
 
 Whence therefore nothing is more obvious than to conceive, 
 that whosoever is adjoined to them, ascending out of our 
 world, presently hath his station assigned him, is made to 
 know his post, and how he is to be employed in the service 
 and adoration of the Sovereign Lord of all, and in paying 
 the most regular homage to "the throne of God and the 
 Lamb;" it being still to be remembered, that God is not 
 worshipped there or here, as an hheris, or as though he 
 needed anything, since he " gives to all breath and being 
 and all things;"^ but that ih.e felicity of his most excellent 
 creatures doth in great part consist in acting perpetually 
 according to the dictate of a just and right mind. And that 
 therefore they take highest pleasure in prostration, in casting 
 down their crowns, in shrinking even into nothing, before 
 the original, eternal, subsistent Being, that he may be 
 owned as the "All in all;" because they follow herein, a most 
 satisfied judgment, and express it when they say, " Thou art 
 worthy, Lord, to receive glory and honour and power : for 
 1 Col. i. 16, with 1 Pet. iii. 22. ~ Acts xvii. 25.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE AVORI.l). 427 
 
 thou liast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and 
 were created."^ And " worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to 
 receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength,"- etc. 
 
 And they that "rest not night or day" from such high 
 and glorious employments, have they nothing to do ? Or will 
 we say or think, because we see not how the heavenly poten- 
 tates lead on their bright legions, to present themselves before 
 the throne, to tender their obeisance, or receive commands 
 and dispatches to this or that far remote dynasty ; or, suppose, 
 to such and such a mighty star — whereof there are so num- 
 berless myriads, and why should we suppose them not 
 replenished with glorious inhabitants ? — whither they fly as 
 quick as thought, with joyfid speed, under the All- seeing 
 Eye, glad to execute wise and just commands upon all occa- 
 sions : but alas ! in all this we can but " darken counsel with 
 words without knowledge." We cannot pretend to know- 
 ledge in these things ; yet if from Scripture intimations and 
 the concurrent reason of things, we only make suppositions 
 of what may be, not conclusions of what is ; let our thoughts 
 ascend as much higher as they can, I see not whj^ they should 
 fall lower than all this. 
 
 And because we cannot be positive, will we therefore say or 
 think, there can be no such thing, or nothing but dull inac- 
 tivity, in those regions ? Because that other world is hades, 
 and we see nothing, shall we make little, or next to nothing, 
 of it ? We should think it very absurd reasoning if we 
 shovdd use it, in reference to such mean trifles in comparison, 
 and say there is no such thing as pomp and state, no such 
 thing as action or business, in the court of Spain or France, 
 of Persia or Japan, because no sound from thence strikes our 
 ear, or the beams of majesty there dazzle not our eye. 
 
 I should indeed think it very unreasonable to make mere 
 magnitude or vast extent of space, filled up with nothing 
 but void air, ether, or other fine matter (call it by what name 
 you will) alone, or b}^ itself, a very considerable note of ex- 
 cellency of the other invisible world above this visible world 
 1 Rev. iv. 11. 2 Eev. v. 12.
 
 428 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 of ours. But I reckon it much more unreasonable and imen- 
 forced (to say no more) by any principles either of philosophy 
 or religion, finding this world of ours — a baser part of the 
 creation — so full of life and of living inhabitants, of one 
 degree or another, to suppose the nobler parts of the universe, 
 still ascending upwards, generally unpeopled and desert ; 
 when it is so conceivable in itself, and so aptly tending to 
 magnify our Creator and Redeemer, that all the upper regions 
 be fully inhabited with intelligent creatures ; whether mere 
 spirits unclothed with anything material, or united with some 
 or other matter, we need not determine. 
 
 And whereas Scripture plainly intimates that the apostate 
 revolted sjairits that fell from God, and kept not their first 
 stations, were vastly numerous ; we have hence scope enough 
 for our thoughts to conceive, that so spacious regions being 
 replenished with intelligent creatures, always innocent and 
 happ3^, the delinquents compared with them may be as 
 despicable for their paucity as they are detestable for their 
 apostasy ; and that the horrid hades, wherein they are reserved 
 to the "blackness of darkness for ever," may be no more in 
 proportion, nay, unexpressibly less, than some little rocky 
 island, appointed as a place of punishment for criminals, in 
 comparison of a flourishing, vast empire, fully peopled with 
 industrious, rich, sober-minded and happy inhabitants. 
 
 We might further consider, — 
 
 iii. The high perfection they presently attain to, who are 
 removed, though in their younger years, out of this into that 
 other world. 
 
 The "spirits of just men" are there said to be "made 
 perfect." Waiving the Olympic metaphor, which is, at most, 
 but the thing signifying, that which is signified cannot be 
 less than the concurrence of natural and moral perfection ; 
 the perfecting of all our faculties, mind, will, and active 
 power, and of all holy and gracious excellencies, knowledge, 
 wisdom, love, holiness. The apostle makes the difference be, 
 as that of a child and that of a man.^ And would any one 
 1 1 Cor. xiii. 11.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 429 
 
 tliat hath a child he delights in, wish him to be a child 
 always and only capable of "childish things?" Or is it 
 a reasonable imagination, that by how much we are more 
 capable of action, we shall be the more useless, and have the 
 less to do ? 
 
 We may further lastly add, that which is not the least 
 considerable ; 
 
 iv. That all the active service and usefulness we are 
 capable of in this world, is but transitory, and lies within the 
 compass of this temporary state of things, which must have 
 an end : whereas the business of the other icorld belongs to 
 our final and eternal state, which shall never be at an end. 
 The most extraordinary qualifications for service on earth, 
 must hereafter, if not by the cessation of the active powers 
 and principles themselves, as tongues, prophecies, and such 
 knowledge as is imcommon, and by peculiar vouchsafement 
 afibrded but to a few for the help of many ; — these endow- 
 ments designed for the propagation of the Christian faith 
 and for the stopping mouths of gainsayers, must, in the use 
 and exercise at least, by the cessation of the objects and 
 occasions, fail, and cease, and "vanish away."^ The like 
 may be said of courage and fortitude to contend against pre- 
 vaiUng wickedness ; skill, ability, with external advantages, 
 to promote the impugned interest of Christ and Christian 
 religion ; of all these there will be no further use in that 
 other world. They are all to be considered as means to the end. 
 But how absurd were it to reckon the means of greater im- 
 portance than the end itself! The whole present consti- 
 tution of Christ's kingdom on earth, is but preparatory and 
 introductive to the celestial kingdom. And how absurd were 
 it to prefer this temporary kingdom to the eternal one, and 
 present serviceableness to this, to perpetual service in the 
 other ! 
 
 It is true that service to God and our Eedeemer in this 
 present state, is necessary in its own kind, highly acceptable 
 to God, and justly much valued by good men ; and we ought 
 
 » 1 Cor. xiii. 8.
 
 430 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 ourselves willingly to submit to serve God in a meaner capa- 
 city in tliis world, while it is his pleasure we shall do so, 
 especially if God shoidd have given any signification of his 
 mind concerning " our abode in the flesh" some longer time, 
 as it is likely he had done to the apostle Paul,^ because he 
 says, "he was confident, and did know" that so it should be:- 
 we should be abundantly satisfied with it, as he was. But to 
 supjjose an abode here to be simply and universally more 
 eligible, is very groundless and unreasonable ; and were a 
 like case, as if a person of very extraordinary abilities and 
 accomplishments, because he was useful in some obscure 
 country village, is to be looked upon as lost, because his 
 prince, being informed of his great worth, calls him up to 
 his court, and, finding him every way fit, employs him in- the 
 greatest affairs of state ! 
 
 To sum up this matter : whereas the means are always, 
 according to usual estimate, wont to derive their value from 
 their end ; time, from eternit}^ ; this judgment of the case, 
 that usefulness in this present state is of greater consequence 
 and more important than the afi'airs of the other world, 
 breaks all measures, overturns the whole frame and inverts 
 the order of things, makes the means more valuable than the 
 end, time more considerable than eternity, and the concern- 
 ments of a state that will soon be over, greater than those of 
 our fixed, permanent, everlasting state, that will never be 
 over. 
 
 If we would allow ourselves the liberty of reasoning, 
 according to the measure and compass of our narrow minds, 
 biassed and contracted by private interest and inclination, we 
 should have the like plausible things to think concerning such 
 of ours as die in infancy, and that when they have but newly 
 looked into this world are presently again caught out of it ; 
 that if they had lived, what might they have come to ? How 
 pleasant and diverting might their childhood have been ! 
 How hopeful their youth ! How useful their riper age ! 
 But these are commonly thoughts little wiser than theirs, 
 1 PHI. i. 24. 2 Ver. 25. 
 
 I
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 431 
 
 and proceed from a general infidelity or misbelief, that what- 
 soever is not within the compass of this little, sorry world, is 
 all emptiness and nullity ! Or if such be pious and more 
 considering, it is too plain they do not, however, consider 
 enough, how great a part it is of Divine magnificence, to 
 take a reasonable immortal spirit from animating a piece of 
 well-figured clay, and presently adjoin it to the general 
 assembly above ! How glorious a change is made upon their 
 child in a moment ! How much greater a thing it is to be 
 adoring God above in the society of angels, than to be 
 dandled on their knee, or enjoy the best provisions they can 
 make for them on earth ! that they have a part to act upon 
 an eternal stage, and though they are but lately come into 
 being, are never to go out of being more, but to be ever- 
 lasting monuments and instruments of the glory of their 
 great Creator and Lord ! 
 
 Nor, perhaps, is it considered so deeply as it ought, that 
 it hath seemed meet to the Supreme Wisdom upon a most 
 important reason^ in the case of lengthening or shortening 
 the lives of men, not ordinarily, or otherwise than upon a 
 great occasion, to interrupt the tendencies of natural causes, 
 but let nature run its course : for otherwise, very frequent 
 innovations upon nature would make miracles cheap and 
 common, and consequently useless to their proper, great 
 ends, which may be of greater significancy in the course 
 of God's government over the world, than some addition to 
 this or that life can be worth. And therefore shoidd this 
 consideration repress our wonderment, why God doth not, 
 when he so easily can, by one touch upon this or that second 
 cause, prevent or ease the grievous pains which theij often 
 suffer that love him, and whom he loves ? He reckons it 
 fitter, and they will in due time reckon so to themselves, 
 when the wise methods of his government come to be mi- 
 folded and understood, that we should any of us bear what is 
 ungrateful to us, in pouit of pain, loss of friends, or other 
 unpleasing events of providence, than that he should make 
 frequent and less necessary breaches upon the common order
 
 432 THE kedeemer's domixiox 
 
 and course of government wliich lie liatli establislied over a 
 delinquent, sinful world. 
 
 Whereupon it is a great piece of wisdom and dutifulness 
 towards our great Lord, not to pray absolutely, peremptorily, 
 or otherwise than with great submission and deference to his 
 wise and holy pleasure, for our own or our friends' lives, 
 ease, outward prosperity, or any external or temporary good 
 thing. For things that concern our spiritual and eternal 
 welfare, his good and acceptable will is more expressly 
 declared, and made known already and beforehand. 
 
 But as to the particular case of the usefulness of any friend 
 or relative of ours in this or the other state, the matter must 
 be finally left to the arbitrament and dispose of him who 
 hath "the keys of hades, and of death." And when by his 
 turn of them he hath decided the matter, we then know 
 what his mind and judgment is, which it is no more fit for 
 us to censure than possible to disannul. Whatever great 
 purposes we might think one cut ofi' in the flower of his age 
 capable of serving in this world, we may be sure He judged 
 him capable of serving greater in the other. 
 
 And now by this time I believe you will expect to have 
 somewhat a more particvdar accoimtof this excellent young gen- 
 tleman, whose early decease hath occasioned my discoursing so 
 largely on this subject : not more largely than the importance, 
 but much less accurately than the dignity of it did challenge. 
 
 He was the eldest son of Sir Charles Hoghton, of Hoghton 
 Tower, in the comity of Lancaster, Baronet, and of the Lady 
 Mary, daughter of the late Lord Viscount Massarene, his 
 very pious consort: a family of eminent note in that 
 northern part of the kingdom, for its antiquity, opidency, 
 and interest in the country where it is seated ; and which 
 hath intermarried with some or other of the nobility, one 
 generation after another ; but hath been most of all con- 
 siderable and illustrious, as having been itself, long, the 
 immemorial known seat of religion, sobriety, and good 
 order, from father to son ; giving example, countenance,
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 433 
 
 and patronage to these praiseworthy things to the country 
 round about : and wherein hitherto (through the singular 
 favour and blessing of Heaven) there hath not been that 
 visible degeneracy, that might be so plainly observed and 
 sadly deplored in divers great families ; as if it were an 
 exemption from what was so anciently remarked by the poet, 
 *^tas parentum, pejor a^^s,' etc. But, on the contrary, 
 such as have succeeded, have, by a laudable ambition and 
 emulation, as it were, striven to outshine such as have gone 
 before them in piety and virtue. 
 
 In this bright and lucid tract and line, was this most hope- 
 ful yoimg gentleman, — now arrived to the age wherein we 
 use to write man, — beginning to stand up in view, and to 
 draw the eyes and raise the hopes of observers and well- 
 wishers, as not likely to come short of any of his worthy 
 ancestors and predecessors. But Heaven had its eye upon 
 him too, and both made and judged him meet for an earlier 
 translation to a more eminent station there. 
 
 He w^as from his childhood observed to be above the 
 common rate docile, of quick apprehension, solid judgment 
 and retentive memory, and, betimes, a lover of books and 
 learning. 
 
 For religion : his knowledge of the principles of it con- 
 tinually grew, as his capacity did more and more admit, 
 under the eye and endeavours of his parents, and such other 
 instructors as they took care he should never want. But his 
 savour and relish thereof, and the impression made thereby 
 upon his soul, was so deep and so early, as to be apparently 
 owing to a higher cause, the gracious operation of the Holy 
 Spirit, and a singular blessing thereby upon his pious educa- 
 tion. And in this way, it coidd not be easy to such as were 
 his most diligent and constant observers, to conclude or con- 
 jecture when God first began to deal with his spirit. 
 
 Above ten years ago, I had opportunity for a few days to 
 have some converse with him in his father's house. And as 
 I could then perceive his spirit was much tinctured with 
 religion, so I received information that for a considerable 
 
 VOL. II. u
 
 434 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 time before, there constantly appeared in him such specimina 
 of serious piety, as were very comfortable to his parents, and 
 might be instructive to others that took notice of them. 
 
 In the course of divers following years, he greatly im- 
 proved, under domestic and private instruction, both in 
 grammar-learning and academical studies, for which he 
 wanted not apt helps. When there was great reason to hope 
 he was so well established in religion and virtue, as neither 
 to be shocked by the importunate temptations of a sceptical 
 vicious age in the general, or betrayed by the facility of his 
 own youthfid age, his prudent, worthy father judged it 
 requisite and not unsafe, to adventure him into a place of 
 more hazard, but greater advantage, for his accomplishment 
 in that sort of culture and polishing that might, in due time, 
 render him, both in reality and with better reputation, ser- 
 viceable in a public station ; that is, where he might gain such 
 knowledge of the world, of men, and of the laws of his 
 country, as were proper for his rank, and one that was to 
 make such a figure in the nation as it was to be hoped he 
 might ; and upon that account, not yet a year ago, brought 
 him up to London, entered him in the Temple, took for him 
 convenient lodgings there, and left him settled unto mutual 
 satisfaction. 
 
 He was little diverted by the noise, novelties, or the gaieties 
 of the town, but soon betook himself to a course of close 
 study ; discontinued not his converse with God, and thereby 
 learned and was enabled to converse with men warily and 
 with caution ; so as he might be continually improving and 
 gaining good without doing or receiving hurt. 
 
 The substance of the following account I received from a 
 pious, intelligent young man, who several years attended him 
 before his coming to to\vii, and afterwards to the finishing of 
 his coTU'se. 
 
 * Mr. Hoghton's early seriousness increased with his years. 
 His deportment was grave, composed, without any appearance 
 of pride, which he carefully avoided. His diligence in study 
 was unusual, and his proficiency very great ; neither was this
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 435 
 
 less an effect of his conscientiousness in the improvement of 
 his time, than of his desire after knowledge. 
 
 * As to his demeanour and performance of duties towards 
 his several relations, his self-denial, his sedateness of mind, 
 his fear of sin, his tenderness of conscience, love of the best 
 things, and unconcernedness about things of an inferior 
 nature, so far as hath fallen under my observation in near 
 six years' time, I believe few, if any of his years, did exceed 
 him. 
 
 ' In his sickness he was very patient, submissively imder- 
 going those heavy strokes it pleased God to lay upon him. 
 
 ' Upon his apprehension of death, he seemed very little 
 discouraged, but quietly resigned himself into the hands of 
 the all- wise Disposer of all things. 
 
 ' Some time before his sickness, and in the time of it, he 
 said, afflictions were very proper for God's children, and those 
 that were never afflicted, had reason to question the truth of 
 their grace, and God's love to them, quoting that Scripture, 
 " If ye are without chastening, then are ye bastards, and not 
 sons." 
 
 ' He often repeated these words, in the beginning of his 
 illness : — 
 
 * " It is a hard thino' to make ' our calling and our election 
 sure.' ... I desire to glorify God." 
 
 'When he understood, from some expressions of his 
 physician, how dangerous his distemper was, he said he 
 knew very well the meaning of his physician's words ; but 
 that, however it proved, he hoped he was safe. 
 
 * He was so strict in the observation of the Lord's-day, that 
 if he happened to lie longer than ordinary in the morning, 
 he would continue the later in duties in the evening ; saying, 
 we ought not to make that day shorter than other days. 
 
 ' Though he was very intent on his studies, yet on Saturdays 
 he always broke them off at noon, and spent the afternoon 
 in reading divinity, and preparing himself for the Lord's-day. 
 
 ' He was always constant in his secret duties, and suffered 
 nothing to hinder him from the performing of them. 
 
 u2
 
 436 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 'Before lie expired, lie spoke with great assurance of his 
 future happiness, and hopes of meeting his relations in glory.' 
 Thus far goes that account. 
 
 His sickness was short. When, hearing of it, I went to 
 visit him, I was met in an ante-chamber, by his ingenuous, 
 dear brother, to whom it is no reproach to be second to him, 
 and who, it is to be hoped, will be at least truly so, making 
 him, though a fair example, yet not a standard ; who hath 
 for divers years been most intimately conjunct and conversant 
 with him, known his way, his spirit, his manner of life, his 
 purity ; and may be led on and excited thereby, wherein he 
 hath observed him to excel others, to endeavour not to come 
 short, but, if it were possible, to excel him ; remembering he 
 is to be the next solace of his parents, hope of his familj^, and 
 resort of his country (if God shall vouchsafe to continue him) 
 in succeeding time. 
 
 From him, I had little expectation of finding his sick 
 brother in a conversable condition ; the malignity of his 
 fever having before seized his head and very much dis- 
 ordered his intellectuals ; but going in, I was much surprised 
 to find it so far otherwise. He presently knew me ; and his 
 understanding, that served him for little else, failed him not 
 in the concernments of religion and of his soid. There was 
 not an improper or misplaced word (though the case could 
 not admit of interchanging many) that came from him. 
 Concerning the substance of the gospel of Christ, as it could 
 be shortly summed up to him, he said he had no doubt ; and 
 his transactions with Christ himself, — accepting Him, resign- 
 ing and entrusting himself absolutely and entirely to Him, 
 and God in Him, — were so explicit, distinct, and clear, as 
 could leave no place of doubt concerning him. He professed 
 his concurrence to such requests as were put up to God con- 
 cerning him ; and the next morning slept quietly in the 
 Lord. 
 
 Nor now will it be unfit, to shut up the discourse, with 
 some few, suitable rcfiections, iqjon this double subject : the 
 text and this providence, taken together.
 
 OVER THE IN^'ISIBLE AVORLD. 437 
 
 1. How liappy is it, when this power of our great 
 Hedeemer and Lord, mentioned in the text, and a preparation 
 with cheerful willingness, dutifvilly to comport with it, concur 
 and meet together, as they have done in this instance ! Our 
 Lord hath shown his power. He asserted it in the text ; in 
 this instance he vised it, giving an open testimony that he 
 takes it to belong to him, to make such translations from one 
 world to another, whensoever he judges it a fit season ; nor is 
 solicitous, whether men acknowledge his right so to do or no ; 
 or what censures they will pass upon what he hath done. 
 He doth his own work, and leaves men to their own talk, or 
 mutterings, or wonder, or amusement at it, as they will. So 
 it becomes sovereign power to do ; established upon the most 
 unquestionable foundations, exercised according to the wisest 
 and most righteous measures. He hath used his own right, 
 and satisfied himself in the use of it. He thought not himself 
 concerned to advise with any of us about it ; M'ho, as 
 his counsellor, should instruct him?^ He owes so much to 
 himself, to act as accountable to no one, nor liable to any 
 one's control. 
 
 Here is most rightful, resistless power, justly and kindly 
 used, on the one hand ; and, on the other, how placid, how 
 cahn a resignation ! Here was no striving ; no crjdng ; no 
 reluctant motion ; no querulous, repining voice : nothing but 
 peaceful, fiKal submission ; a willingness to obey the summons 
 given. 
 
 This was a happy accord ; the willingness of this departing 
 soul proceeding, not from stupidity, but trust in him who kept 
 these keys ; and such preparedness for removal as the gospel 
 required. happy soids ! that finding the key is turning, 
 and opening the door for them, are willing to go fortli upon 
 such terms, as "loiowing whom they have believed," etc.; 
 and that neither "principalities or powers, life or death," etc., 
 " can ever separate them from the love of God in Christ Jesus 
 their Lord." Life, they find, hath not separated— whereof 
 was the greater danger ; and death is so far from making this 
 1 Isa. xl. 13 ; Rom. xi. 34.
 
 438 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 separation, that it shall complete their -union with the blessed 
 God in Christ, and lay them enfolded in the everlasting 
 embraces of Divine love ! Happy the}^ that can hereupon 
 "welcome death, and say, " Now, Lord, lettest thou thy ser- 
 vant depart in peace ! " that before only desired leave to die, 
 and have now obtained it ; that are, with certainty of the 
 issue, at the point of becoming complete victors over the last 
 enemy, and are ready to enter upon their triumph, and 
 take up their einviKLov, " Death is swallowed up in victory. 
 death, where is thy sting ? grave, where is thy victory ? 
 Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through Jesus 
 Christ our Lord." Happy soul ! here will be a speedy end of 
 all thy griefs and sorrows ; they will be presently swallowed 
 up in an absolute plenitude and fulness of joy. There is 
 already an end put to thy tormenting cares and fears ; for 
 what object can remain to thee of a rational fear, when once, 
 upon grounds such as shake not under thee, thou art recon- 
 ciled to death ? This is the most glorious sort of victory ; 
 namely, by reconciliation. For so thou hast conquered, not 
 the enemy only, but the enmity itself by which he was so. 
 Death is become thy friend, and so no longer to be feared ; 
 nor is there anything else, from whence thou art to fear 
 hurt; for death was "thy last enemy," even this bodily 
 death ! The whole region beyond it is, to one in thy case, 
 clear and serene, when to others is reserved the "blackness of 
 darkness for ever." There are no terrible vaTeprniaTa, no 
 formidable consequences, no reserves of misery, no treasures 
 of wrath to be feared by thee. To one in thy condition, may 
 that, without hesitation, be applied, Nihil metiiit, qui opted 
 mori;^ 'He fears nothing, who desires to die.' What is the 
 product of some men's infidelity, is the genuine product of 
 their faith. From so contrary causes may proceed the same 
 effect. The effect, a willingness to die or a bold adventure 
 upon death, is the same, but only in respect of the general 
 kind ; with great differences in the special kind, according to 
 the difference and contrariety of the causes whereof they 
 
 1 Sen. Tr.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 439 
 
 discernibly taste and savour. With infidels, it is a negative, 
 dead, stupid, partial willingness, or but a non-aversion, and 
 in a lower and much diminished degree ; or if some present, 
 intolerable, disgraceful calamity urge them, a rash, obstinate, 
 presumptuous rushing upon death, because they do not con- 
 sider consequences. With believers, such as in reference to 
 the concernments of the other world do " walk by faith," 
 while as yet they cannot walk "by sight," ^ in reference to 
 those thingsl it is a positive, vital courage, — " We are confi- 
 dent,"^ — and a preponderating inclination of will, — "We 
 are willing rather to be absent from the body, and to 
 be present with the Lord;" because, as is manifest, they do 
 consider consequences, and how blessed a state will certaudy 
 ensue ! How vast are these special differences of the same 
 thing in the general, — willingness to die ! 
 
 O the transports of joy that do now most rationally result 
 from this state of the case, when there is nothing left, lying 
 between the dislodging soid and the glorious unseen world, 
 but only the dark passage of death ; and that so little formi- 
 dable, considering who hath the keys of the one and the 
 other ! How reasonable is it upcm the accoimt of somewhat 
 common herein to the Redeemer and the redeemed, although 
 everything be not, to take up the following words, that so 
 plainly belong to this very case : " Therefore my heart is 
 glad, and my glory rejoiceth : my flesh also shall rest in hope. 
 For thou wdt not leave my soul in sheol, or hades ;" thou wilt 
 not forsake or abandon it in that wide world, " neither wilt 
 thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption. Thou wilt 
 shew me the path of life ; " the path that leads unto that 
 presence of thine, where is "fulness of joy;" and to those 
 " pleasures which are at thy right hand," or in thy power, 
 and which are for "evermore ;"^ and shall never admit either 
 of end or diminution. 
 
 Now what do we mean, to let our souls hang in doubt ? 
 Why do we not drive things for them, to an issue ? put them 
 into those same safe hands that hold these keys ; absolutely 
 1 2 Cor. V. 7. 2 Yer^ 3. Qa^poZinv. 3 Ps. x%a. 9—11.
 
 440 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 resign, devote, intrust, and subject them to him ; get them 
 "bound up in the bundle of life;" so adjoin and unite them 
 to him — not doubting but as we give them up, he will and 
 doth, in that instant, take hold of them, and receive them 
 into union with himself — as that we may " assure our hearts," 
 that because " he lives, we shall live also."^ Thus the groimd 
 of oiu' hope becomes sure, and of that joy which springs 
 from such a hope.^ Our "life," we may now say, "is hid 
 with Christ in God,"^ even though we are, in ourselves, dead 
 or dying creatures. Yea, " Christ is our life, and when he, 
 who is our life, shall appear, we shall appear with him in 
 glorjr."* He hath assured us, that because "He is the resur- 
 rection, and the life : he that believeth in Him, though he 
 were dead, shall yet Kve;" and that, "whosoever lives and 
 believes in Him" hath thereby a life alreadj'- begun in Him, 
 in respect whereof he "shall never die."^ What now can be 
 surer than this ? So far we are at a certainty upon the 
 included supposition ; that is, that we believe in him. 
 
 And what now remains to be ascertained ? what ? Only 
 our own intervening death ; we must, it is true, be " absent 
 from these bodies," or we cannot, as we would, "be present 
 with the Lord." And is that all ? Can anything now be more 
 certain than that ? O happy state of our case ! How should 
 our hearts spring and leap for joy, that our affairs are 
 brought into this posture ; that in order to our perfect 
 blessedness, nothing is farther wanting but to die, and that 
 the certainty of death completes our assurance of it ! What 
 should now hinder our breaking forth into the most joyful 
 thanksgivings, that it is so little doubtful we shall die ? that 
 we are in no danger of a terrestrial immortality, and that the 
 only thing that it remained we should be assured of, is so 
 very sure ? that we are sure it is not in the power of all this 
 world, to keep us always in it ; that the most spiteful enemy 
 we have in all the world, cannot do us that spite, to keep us 
 from dying ? How gloriously may good men triumph over 
 
 1 John xiv. 19. ^ ;Rom. v. 2. » Col. iii. 3. * Ver. 4. 
 
 5 John xi. 25, 20.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 441 
 
 the impotent malice of tlieir most miscliievous enemies, 
 namely, that the greatest mischief, even in their own ac- 
 count, that it can ever be in their iwwer to do them, is to 
 put it out of their own power ever to hurt them more ; — for 
 they now go quite out of their reach. They can, being per- 
 mitted, "kill the bodj^ and after that have no more that they 
 can do."^ What a remarkable, significant "after that" is 
 this ! What a defiance doth it import of the utmost effort of 
 human power and spite, that here it terminates ! It is now 
 come to its ne plu8 ultra ! 
 
 And so we are to look upon all our other trials and 
 afflictions, that in any providential way may befall us ; we 
 may be sick, in pain, in poverty, in disgrace, but we shall not 
 be always in mortal flesh, which is the substratum and the root 
 of all the rest. Can we be upon better terms, having but 
 two things to be concerned about as necessary to our com- 
 plete felicity, — union with Christ and disunion from these 
 bodies ? God is graciously ready to assist us in reference to 
 the former, though therein he requires our care, subserviently 
 hereto : in reference to the latter, he will take care himself in 
 his own fit season, without any care or concern of ours in the 
 matter ; and onl}^ expects us to wait with patience, till that 
 fit season come. And come it will, perhaps sooner than we 
 may think. He doth not always go by our measures in 
 judging of the fit season, as this present instance shows. 
 
 2. From the text, taken in conjunction with this act of 
 providence, we may observe the great advantage of a pious 
 education. Though the best means of such education do not 
 always prove effectual, yet this being much the more probable 
 course upon which to expect God's blessing, than the parents' 
 profane negligence of the souls of their children ; such an 
 example, wherein God by his blessing testified his approba- 
 tion of parental care and diligence, should greatly quicken 
 the endeavours of parents herein ; as hoping hereby to serve 
 His great, and merciful, and most principal design, who hath 
 these keys ; and whose office it is, to transmit souls, when 
 
 ' Luke xii. 4. 
 
 u 3
 
 442 THE redeemer's do:minion 
 
 the}'' are prepared and ready, out of this world of ours into 
 that blessed glorious world above. And though they may 
 think themselves disappointed when, through God's blessing 
 upon their endeavours, they have educated one to such a pitch 
 as this young gentleman was raised and brought up unto, with 
 a prospect and hope of his having a long course of service to 
 run through here on the earth ; yet let parents hence learn 
 to correct what was amiss or what was wrong, not what was 
 right and well. Their action and endeavour was, what ought 
 to be. Their error or mistake, if there was any, was more 
 jDrincipally, as the case is here stated, about their design and 
 end : not that they designed such an end, for that also was 
 very justifiable and laudable, but if they designed it as 
 their more principal end, which the case, as it is now put, sup- 
 poses ; that is, that they take themselves to be disappointed : 
 for no man complains of it as a disappointment, if he miss of 
 an inferior end, and attain that Avhich is far nobler and more 
 excellent. Our great aim should be the subserving the 
 design of the great Lord of heaven and earth, which ulti- 
 mately and supremely refers to the heavenly, eternal state of 
 things, and that souls may be ripened and fitted for that; 
 and to do service here on earth, siibordinately to the other, 
 and while they are in preparation for the heavenly state. 
 His principal design must be for that which is principal ; and 
 concerning that, as was formerly argued, there can be no 
 more doubt than whether heaven or earth, eternity or time, 
 a fixed, permanent, everlasting, or a temporary, transitory, 
 vanishing state of things, be more valuable and to be 
 preferred. 
 
 Our Redeemer hath acquired and doth use these keys for 
 the translating of souls, as soon as he shall judge them 
 "meet to be partakers of the inheritance of saints in light." ^ 
 Some he makes meet mvich earlier than others. His design, 
 so far as it is known or may be supposed, shoidd give 
 measure to ours ; therefore ours must be to make them meet 
 as early for his purposes as is possible ; as knowing it cannot 
 
 1 Col. i. 12.
 
 OYER THE EST VISIBLE WORLD. 443 
 
 be too early. They were devoted to him early, and pur- 
 suantly hereto no time should be lost from the great business 
 of fitting and forming them for him ; inasmuch also as the 
 same qualifications, namely, that are of highest excellency 
 and value, do equally prepare them to serve and glorify him 
 in either world, as he shall choose to dispose of them. And 
 it unquestionably belongs to him to make his choice, as it 
 does to us to endeavour to make them ready. If any of us, 
 having purposely educated a son for the service of his 
 prince, present him accordingly, we would submit it to his 
 pleasure, to choose the station wherein he shall serve him ; 
 especially if he be a prince of celebrated wisdom and goodness. 
 And should we complain that he is put early into a station of 
 much higher dignity than we thought of? 
 
 How little is this matter considered by most that go under 
 the name of Christian parents ; that are, more generally, 
 very solicitous to have, as they call it, their children diris- 
 tened ; but never have it in their thoughts to have them 
 educated in the knowledge of Christ, or trained up for Christ. 
 As if their baptism were intended for a mockery, their 
 education, in the whole course of it, hath no such reference. 
 It is how they may with better reputation bear up, not the 
 name of Christ, but their own. Their aim looks no higher 
 than that they may inherit their lands, maintain the honour 
 of their families ; appear, if such be their own rank, well- 
 accomplished gentlemen. And of some of those little things 
 that are thought requisite hereto, we ma)^ say as our Saviour 
 did in another case, " These things ought ye to have done, 
 and not to have left the other " — the much grreater thinjjs — 
 " undone." 
 
 "What should hinder but that learning to sing, or dance, or 
 fence, or make a modish leg, might consist with learning "to 
 know God in Christ," in which knowledge stands " eternal 
 life ! " Whatsoever hath real excellency or hath anything 
 in it of true ornament will no way disagree with the most 
 serious Christianity. And how lovely is the conjunction of 
 the well-accomplished gentleman and the serious Christian !
 
 444 
 
 THE REDEEMER S DOMINION 
 
 Only sever inconsistencies, — as liow fasliionably to curse, and 
 swear, and damn, and debaucli, which are thought to belong 
 to good breeding in our age. 
 
 Let not religion, reason, shame, and common sense be so 
 totally abandoned all at once, as that the same persons shall 
 take care to have their children baptized into Christ's name, 
 and be taught to renounce by their deeds that great name, 
 almost as soon as they can pronounce the word. 
 
 Where so direct a course is not taken to make those of the 
 succeeding age ignominiously bad, yet how little is done 
 towards the making of them tridy and usefully good ! Much 
 care is taken to shape and adorn the outside of the man ; how 
 little to form and furnish their minds ! Here, if they can be 
 brought to make or judge of a verse, or a jest, or a piece of 
 wit, it is a great attainment : or if, at home, they can have 
 them taught so much law, as shall hereafter enable them to 
 squeeze their tenants and quarrel with their neighbours, or so 
 much of behaviour as shall qualify them to keep gentlemen 
 company ; or if, as our pious poet phrased it, they ' ship 
 them over, the thing is done.' Then, they shall be able to 
 talk a little of the fashions of this or that foreign country, 
 and make much the better figure in their own. 
 
 But if, with all other parts of useful knowledge and good 
 breeding that are thought requisite for this world, they be 
 also well-instructed touching their Redeemer's dominion over 
 it, and the other world also ; and concerning the nature, con- 
 stitution, design, laws, and privileges of his kingdom ; if it 
 be seriously endeavoured to make them apt and prepared 
 instruments of serving his interest here, as long as he shall 
 please to continue them in any station on earth ; and that 
 they may also be made meet to be partakers, at length, of a 
 far more excellent inheritance than an earthly parent could 
 entitle them to, that " of the saints in light ; " ^ if they can 
 be fitted to stand in the presence of the Eternal King, and to 
 keep comj^any with angels and blessed spirits above ; — how 
 worthy and noble a design is this ! And with what satis- 
 
 1 Col. i. 12.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 445 
 
 faction is it to be reflected on, if the parents have ground to 
 apprehend, they are herein neither unaccepted nor disap- 
 pointed ! 
 
 3, It is of ill presage to our land, that when he that hath 
 these keys uses them in the so early translation of so hopeful 
 a person as this young gentleman was, so few such are 
 observed to spring up for the support of the truly Christian 
 interest, in the succeeding generation. That the act of our 
 great Redeemer and Lord herein was an act of wisdom and 
 counsel, we cannot doubt. Against the righteousness of it 
 we can have no exception. The kind design of it towards 
 them whom he so translates, is so evident in the visible 
 agreement of their spirit and way with the heavenly state as 
 their end, as puts that matter out of question. But we are 
 so much the more to dread the consequences, and to appre- 
 hend what may make our "hearts meditate terror." 
 
 By the Christian interest, I am far from meaning that of a 
 party ; but what every one must take for Christianity, that 
 will acknowledge there is any such thing. And for the 
 -support of that, in the most principal doctrines and laws of 
 it, what is our prospect ? 
 
 To go down here somewhat lower. 
 
 Let us suppose a rational susceptibleness or capacity of 
 religion, to be the difference of man ; wherein the controversy 
 may seem to admit of being compromised — whether it be 
 Religion alone or Reason alone, of which this must be said, 
 that it distinguishes man from the inferior creatures. And 
 let it be Reason, with this addition, an aptness — suscipere 
 numen — to be impressed with some religious sentiment, or to 
 conceive of and adore an original Being, — the wise and 
 mighty Author and Cause of all things. And now, how near 
 aldn are religion and humanity. 
 
 Let us next understand Christianity to be the religion of 
 fallen man, designing his recovery out of a lapsed and lost 
 state ; that is, man having violated the law of his creation, 
 and offended against the throne and government of his 
 Creator, the supreme and universal Lord of all, it was
 
 446 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 reckoned not becoming so great a Majesty (thougli it was 
 not intended to abandon the offenders to a universal ruin, 
 without remedy) to be reconciled otherwise than by a Medi- 
 ator and a reconciling Sacrifice : for which, none being found 
 competent but the Eternal Son of God, the " brightness of 
 his glory" and the "express image of his person," who 
 was also the First and the Last, the Lord God Almighty ; and, 
 partaking with us of flesh and blood, was capable and under- 
 took to be both Mediator and Sacrifice ; — it seemed meet to 
 the offended Majesty, to vouchsafe pardon and eternal life, 
 and the renewing grace requisite thereto, to none of the 
 offenders but through him ; and accept from them no ho- 
 mage, but on his account : requiring wheresoever the gospel 
 comes, not only " repentance towards God," but " faith in 
 our Lord Jesus Christ," as the summary of the counsel of 
 God contained therein,^ and that "all should honour the 
 Son," as He the Father requires to be honoured.^ 
 
 Whereas now so apt a course as this was established for 
 restoring man to himself and to God, through the influence 
 of the blessed Spirit, flowing in the gospel-dispensation from 
 Christ as the Fountain, what doth it portend when, amidst 
 the clear light of the gospel, that affords so bright a dis- 
 covery of the glorious Redeemer and of all his apt methods 
 for bringing to full effect his mighty work of redemption, an 
 open war is commenced against hun and his whole design, 
 by persons under seal- devoted to him? If there were but 
 one single instance hereof in an age, who would not, with 
 trembling, expect the issue ? 
 
 But when the genius of a Christian nation seems, in the 
 rising generation, to be leading to a general apostasy from 
 Christianity in its principal and most substantial parts ; and 
 they are only patient of some external rituals, that belong or 
 are made appendent to it, so as but to endure them either 
 with reluctancy or contempt ; when the juvenile wit and 
 courage, which are thought to belong to a gentleman en- 
 tering upon the stage of the world, are employed in satirising 
 1 Acts XX. 21—27. * John v. 23.
 
 OVER THE INVISIBLE WORLD. 447 
 
 upon the religion into wliich tliey liave been baptized, in 
 bold efforts against the Lord that bought them, whither doth 
 this tend ? 
 
 Some would seem so modest, as in the midst of their pro- 
 fane oaths, and violations of the sacred name of God, to beg 
 his pardon and say, ' God forgive them ;' but so ludicrously 
 as he whom Cato animadverts upon, for begging pardon that 
 he wrote in Greek, which he Avas unacqiiainted with ; saying, 
 ' He had rather ask pardon than be innocent ;' ^ for what should 
 induce him to do so unnecessary a thing, for which pardon 
 should be necessary ? These men think pardons very cheap 
 things ! But will " God be mocked ?" Or doth he not 
 observe ? It is the prevailing atheistical spirit we are to 
 dread as that which may provoke jealousy, and to make him- 
 self known by the judgments he shall execute. 
 
 There is great reason to hope God will not finally abandon 
 England. But is there not equal reason to fear that before 
 the day of mercy come, there may be a nearer day of 
 wrath coming ? A day that shall " burn as an oven," and 
 make the hemisphere about us a fiery vault ! In our recovery 
 from a lapsed state, which the religion professed among us 
 aims at, there are two things to be eifected : the restoring 
 reason to its empire over the sensitive nature, that it may 
 govern that ; and the restoring religion, and love to God, to 
 its place and power, that he may govern us. While the 
 former is not done, we remain simk into the low level with 
 the inferior creatures ; and till the latter be effected, we are 
 ranked with the apostate creatures that first fell from God. 
 The sensuality of brutes and the enmity of devils, rising and 
 springing up observably among us, import the directest hos- 
 tility against the Redeemer's design. And them that bid 
 this open defiance to Him, he hath every moment at his 
 mercy ! 
 
 In the meantime, is this Emmanuel's land ? His right in 
 us he will not disclaim ; and because he claims it, we may 
 expect him to vindicate himself. His present patience we 
 
 ^ Corn. Nep. Frag.
 
 448 THE redeemer's dominion 
 
 are to ascribe to tlie wisdom and greatness of an all- compre- 
 hending mind. He counts not a heap of impotent worms 
 his match ! But when the besom of destruction comes, one 
 stroke of it Avill sweep away multitudes. Then contempt 
 will be answered with contempt : tliey cannot express higher, 
 than to oppose and militate against a religion introduced and 
 brought into the world by so clear, divine light, lustre and 
 glorj^ not by arguments, but by jests ! Oh that we oould but 
 see their arguments, to dispute those keys out of his hands 
 that holds them ! But do they think to laugh away the 
 power of the Son of God ? " He also will laugh at their 
 calamity," ^ etc., or expose them to the laughter of men wiser 
 than they.- It is little wit to despise what they cannot dis- 
 prove. When we find a connection between death and judg- 
 ment, how will they contrive to disjoin them ? They will be 
 as little able to disprove the one as withstand the other. 
 
 But a great residue, it is to be hoped, our blessed Redeemer 
 will in due time conquer in the most merciful way, inspiring 
 them with Divine wisdom and love, detecting their errors, 
 mollifjang their hardness, subduing their enmity, making 
 them gladly submit to his easy yoke and light burden. He 
 is, before the world end, to have a niunerous seed, and we are 
 not to despair of their rising up more abundantly than 
 hitherto among ourselves, so as no man shall be therefore 
 ashamed to be thought a serious Christian, because it is an 
 unfashionable or an ungenteel thing. 
 
 Then will honour be acquired, by living as one that believes 
 a life to come and expects to live for ever ; as devoted ones to 
 the Euler of both worlds, and candidates for a blessed im- 
 mortality under his dominion. Nor will any man covet to 
 leave a better name behind him here, or a more honourable 
 memorial of himself, than by having lived a holy, virtuous 
 life. It signifies not nothing with the many, to be remem- 
 bered when they are gone. Therefore is this trust wont to 
 be committed to marbles and monumental stones. Some have 
 been so wise, to prefer a remembrance among them that were 
 1 Prov. i. 26. 2 Ps. lii. 5^ o.
 
 OVER THE I^"YISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 449 
 
 SO, from their having lived to some valuable purpose. When 
 Rome abomided with statues and memorative obelisks, Cato 
 forbade any to be set up for him, ' because,' he said, * he had 
 rather it should be asked, why had he not one, than why he 
 hadP'i 
 
 What a balmy memory will one generation leave to an- 
 other, when "the savour" of the "knowledge" of Christ shall 
 be diffused " in every place," ^ and everything be counted as 
 " dross and dimg," that is in any competition with " the 
 excellency of that knowledge ;" when that shall overflow the 
 world, and one age praise his mighty works and proclaim his 
 power and greatness to the next ! And the branches of 
 religious families, whether sooner or later transplanted, shall 
 leave an odour, when they are cut off, that shall demonstrate 
 their nearer union with the true Yine, or speak their relation 
 to the " Tree of life, whose leaves are for the healing of the 
 nations ;" even those that were deciduous, and have dropped 
 off, may, without straining a borrowed expression, signify 
 somewhat towards this purpose. 
 
 4. From both the mentioned subjects, good parents may 
 learn to do God and their Redeemer all the service they can, 
 and have opportunity for, in their own time ; without reckon- 
 ing too much upon what shall be done, by a well-educated, 
 hopeful son, after they are gone ; unless the like dispensation 
 coidd be pleaded unto that which God gave to David, to re- 
 serve the building of the temple to his son Solomon, which, 
 without as express a revelation, no man can pretend. The 
 great Keeper of these keys may cross such purposes ; and 
 without excusing the father, dismiss the son first. But "his 
 judgments are a great deep," too deep for our line. And 
 "his mercy is in the heavens,"^ extending " from everlasting 
 to everlasting, upon them that fear him ; and his righteous- 
 ness unto children's children." ^ 
 
 ^ Plutarch. De Reipub : gerend : prsecept. ^ 2 Cor. ii. 14. 
 
 3 Ps. xxxvi. 5, 6. 4 Ps, ciii. 17.
 
 LONDOX : 
 ■BENJAMIN PARDON, PRINTER, 
 PATERNOSTER-KOW.
 
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