1
 
 SERMONS 
 
 PREACHED UPON 
 
 SEVERAL OCCASIONS, 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT SOUTH, D.D. 
 
 PREBENDARY OF WESTMINSTER, 
 AND CANON OF CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD. 
 
 A NEW EDITION, IN SEVEN VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 OXFORD, 
 
 AT THE CLARENDON PRESS. 
 MDCCCXX1II.
 
 Vi, 

 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 S/33 
 
 _l HE present edition of Dr. South's Sermons con- 
 sists of three distinct parts. The first four volumes, 
 containing seventy-two discourses, correspond with 
 the first six volumes of the preceding editions, each 
 of which volumes contains twelve discourses. The 
 last three volumes, with the exception of the appen- 
 dix to the seventh volume, contain the posthumous 
 discourses, some account of which is given in the ad- 
 vertisement to the fifth volume. The appendix to 
 the seventh volume contains the three sermons pub- 
 lished by Edmund Curll, with the Life of the author, 
 in the year 1717. The Life is prefixed to the first 
 volume of the present edition.
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 DR. ROBERT SOUTH, 
 
 LATE PREBENDARY OF WESTMINSTER, CANON OF CHRIST 
 
 CHURCH, AND RECTOR OF ISLIP IN THE COUNTY 
 
 OF OXFORD. 
 
 W HEN men crowned with age and honour, and worn out 
 with the exercise of the most adorable virtues, go down to 
 the grave ; when learning, piety, sincerity, and courage, with 
 them, seem to be gathered to their fathers, and almost every 
 one of them, without a due recognition of their bright ex- 
 amples who gave us their survey, must cease to be any 
 more; it would be an act of the highest injustice not to set 
 them in their fairest light, that posterity may look upon 
 them with the same eyes of admiration which the present 
 age has paid their regards with ; and that it may not be in 
 the power of the teeth of time to wear out the impressions 
 that shall pass undefaced from one generation to another. 
 
 It is with this view, and only with this, that the author 
 of these memoirs, who has long known the value of the sub- 
 ject he is writing upon, and from thence must be apprised 
 of the difficulty of doing it as he ought, takes them in hand; 
 being not without hopes, that he may in some measure pre- 
 vent the many common biographers, who gather about a 
 dead corpse, like ravens about their prey, and croak out in- 
 sults against their memory, whilst they either praise them 
 
 VOL. i. b
 
 ii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 for actions they have not done, or load them with disgrace 
 and infamy for what they never committed : insomuch that, 
 in Procopius of Caesarea's words, " their relations are no- 
 " thing else but their interests, delivering down, not what 
 " they know, but what they are inclined to. 1 " 
 
 The same author likewise very justly observes, " that as 
 " eloquence becomes an orator, and fables are proper for 
 " poets, so truth is that which an historian ought chiefly to 
 " follow, and have in regard ;" therefore my readers are 
 neither to expect embellishments of art, nor flourishes of 
 rhetoric. 
 
 Non tali auxilio, nee defensoribus istis 
 Tempus eget 
 
 There is no need of such assistances to support me, while I 
 go through with the character of a man that was arrived at the 
 highest pitch of knowledge in the studies of all manner of di- 
 vine and human literature: a man who, in the words of the Son 
 of Sirach, gave his mind to the law of the most High, and 
 was occupied in the meditation thereof: who sought out the 
 wisdom of all the ancients, and who kept the sayings of the 
 renowned men, and where subtle parables were, there was he 
 also. A man, who sought out the secrets of grave sentences, 
 icho served among great men, and appeared before princes : 
 who travelled throughout strange countries, for lie had tried 
 the good and the evil among men. In a word, a man that 
 gave his heart to resort early to the Lord that made him, 
 and prayed before the most High. Who was filed with the 
 spirit of under standing, and poured out wise sentences : so 
 that many shall commend his understanding: and so long 
 as the world endureth, it shall not be blotted out. 
 
 May it suffice then that I account for the birth of this 
 great man in the year 1633, when the artifices of wicked and 
 designing sectarists against the established government in 
 church and state, that broke out at last into the grand re- 
 bellion, made it necessary that so bright an assertor of both, 
 as he proved afterwards, should arise. He was the son of 
 Mr. South, an eminent merchant in London, and born at 
 Hackney, of a mother whose maiden name was Berry,
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. iii 
 
 descended from the family of the Berry s in Kent : so that 
 by his extraction on the one side, which we trace down 
 from the Souths of Kelstone, and Keilby in Lincolnshire, 
 (whereof we find one sir Francis of that name to be the 
 head,) and his origin on the other, much celebrated for 
 the productions of many eminent men, (among whom sir 
 John Berry, the late admiral in king Charles the lid's 
 reign, that commanded the Gloucester, wherein king James 
 the lid, then duke of York, had like to have been ship- 
 wrecked, deserves a place,) he was sufficiently entitled to 
 the name and quality of a gentleman. 
 
 In the year 1647, after he had gone through the first ru- 
 diments of learning previous thereunto with uncommon suc- 
 cess, we find him entered one of the king's scholars in the 
 college at Westminster, where he made himself remarkable 
 the following year, by reading the Latin prayers in the 
 school, on the day of king Charles the first's martyrdom, and 
 praying for his majesty by name : so that he was under the 
 care of Dr. Richard Busby, who cultivated and improved so 
 promising a genius with such industry and encouragement 
 for four years, that, after the expiration of that time, he was 
 admitted, an. 1651, student of Christ Church in Oxford. 
 
 He was elected with the great Mr. John Locke, an equal 
 ornament of polite and abstruse learning. His studentship, 
 with an allowance of 30Z. per ann. from his mother, and the 
 countenance of his relation, Dr. John South, of New college, 
 regius professor of the Greek tongue, chanter of Salisbury, 
 and vicar of Writtle in Essex, enabled him to obtain those 
 acquirements that made him the admiration, and esteem of 
 the whole university, and drew upon him the eyes of the 
 best masters of humanity and other studies, by the quick 
 progress he made through them. 
 
 He took the degree of bachelor of arts, which he com- 
 pleted by his determination, in Lent 1654-5. The same 
 year he wrote a Latin copy of verses, published in the uni- 
 versity book, set forth to congratulate the protector Oliver 
 Cromwell upon the peace then concluded with the Dutch ; 
 upon which some people have made invidious reflections, as
 
 iv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 if contrary to the sentiments he afterwards espoused ; but 
 these are to be told, that such exercises are usually imposed 
 by the governors of colleges upon bachelors of arts and 
 undergraduates : I shall forbear to be particular in his, as 
 being a forced compliment to the usurper. 
 
 Not but even those discover a certain unwillingness to act 
 in favour of that monster, whom even the inimitable earl of 
 Clarendon, in his History of the grand Rebellion, distin- 
 guishes by the name and title of a GLORIOUS VILLAIN. 
 
 After he had thus gained the applause of all his superi- 
 ors, and by many lengths outstripped most of his contempo- 
 raries, by his well digested and well approved exercises pre- 
 paratory thereunto, he proceeded to the degree of master of 
 arts in June 1657, not without some opposition from Dr. 
 John Owen, who supplied the place of dean of Christ 
 Church, and officiated as head of that royal foundation, with 
 other sectaries called canons, during the deprivation and ejec- 
 tion of the legal and orthodox members of the said chapter. 
 This man (if he deserves the name of one, that was guilty 
 of a voluntary defection from the church established, after 
 he had regularly received ordination at the hands of a pro- 
 testant bishop, contrary to the oaths he had taken to his 
 rightful and lawful prince, and his obedience that was due to 
 the canons of the church) was one of the earliest of the clergy 
 who joined with the rebels in parliament assembled, that 
 dethroned their natural liege lord and king, and altered the 
 form of government in matters ecclesiastical and civil, and 
 in recompence of his zeal for that end, after the martyrdom 
 of his royal sovereign, had been gifted with this undeserved 
 promotion. In gratitude for which, if that word may -be 
 applied to creatures divested of all qualities that point to- 
 wards the least symptoms of humanity, he thought himself 
 obliged to bestir himself heartily for what was then called the 
 good old cause, against all those who should swerve or de- 
 viate from it, especially such as should be found peccant 
 against the orders of the Directory, and should be unwar- 
 rantably, according to pretended laws then in being, found 
 in episcopal meetings, making use of the Common Prayer.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. v 
 
 Among these was this our candidate for the degree of 
 master of arts, being excited thereunto by the example of 
 Mr. John Fell, of the same college with him, but of much 
 longer standing, and ejected by the commissioners authorized 
 thereunto from the council of state; and was caught in the 
 very act of worshipping God after the manner and form of the 
 church of England; whereupon Dr. Owen, who was then 
 vice-chancellor, and had been invested with that character 
 some years before, was pleased to express himself very se- 
 verely, and after threatening him with expulsion, if he 
 should be guilty of the like practices again, to tell him, 
 that " He could do no less in gratitude to his highness the 
 " protector, and his other great friends who had thought 
 " him worthy of the dignities he then stood possessed of." 1 
 To which Mr. South made this grave, but very smart reply : 
 " Gratitude among friends is like credit amongst tradesmen ; 
 " it keeps business up, and maintains the correspondence : 
 " and we pay not so much out of a principle that we ought 
 " to discharge our debts, as to secure ourselves a place to 
 " be trusted another time :" and in answer to the doctor 1 ? 
 making use of the protector's and his other great friends 1 
 names, ,said, " Commonwealths put a value upon men, as 
 " well as money; and we are forced to take them both, not 
 " by weight, but according as they are pleased to stamp 
 " them, and at the current rate of the coin r 11 by which he 
 exasperated him two different ways, and made him his ene- 
 my ever after ; as he verified his own sayings, which were 
 frequently applied by him to his fellow students, viz. 
 " That few people have the wisdom to like reproofs that 
 " would do them good, better than praises that do them 
 " hurt." 
 
 But though the doctor did what he could to shew his 
 resentment by virtue of his office, the majority of those 
 in whose power it was to give him the degree he had 
 regularly waited the usual terms for, was an overmatch to 
 all opposition ; and he had it conferred on him. This en- 
 abled him some time after to pay the doctor in his own 
 coin, and to let him know, that he likewise was not without 
 
 b3
 
 vi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 a will to use means, when they were put into his hands, for 
 requiting an injury ; and notwithstanding he could readily 
 forgive, could not forget an ill turn. For when this vice- 
 chancellor took upon him to stand as candidate to serve in 
 parliament for the university, and in order thereunto had 
 renounced his holy orders, that he might the more easily 
 gain his purpose, Mr. South so managed matters with the 
 doctors, bachelors of divinity, and masters of arts, the elec- 
 tors, that he was very difficultly returned, and, after a few 
 days sitting in the house, had his election declared null and 
 void, because his renunciation was not reputed valid. 
 
 This puts me in mind of another story, which Dr. South 
 told a friend of mine, concerning the said Owen ; who, 
 at his being soon after removed from his place of vice-chan- 
 cellor by the chancellor Richard, son of Oliver Cromwell, 
 and from the pulpit of St. Mary's, which was cleansed of 
 him and the rebel Goodwin, president of St. Mary Magda- 
 len's college, at one and the same time, cried out, " I have 
 " built seats at Mary's ; let the doctors find auditors, for I 
 " will preach at Peter's :" thereby insinuating, that none but 
 he could have full congregations. Though, whatever were 
 his thoughts of the affections of those who were misled by 
 his doctrines, the very selfsame opiniative man found 
 himself very much out in his conjectures of abiding at 
 Christ Church, or of preaching at St. Peter's long ; for he 
 was ejected from his deanery at the latter end of the year 
 1659 by the government, that was then paving the way for 
 the restoration of the king and royal family; and soon after 
 succeeded by Dr. John Fell, who first was installed canon 
 of Christ Church, in the room of Ralph Button, M. A. and 
 formerly of Merton college, by the commissioners appointed 
 by the king ; Mr. South having the orator's place of the 
 university of Oxford, vacant by the dismission of the said 
 Button. 
 
 This brings me to a second digression, which the reader's 
 patience, it is hoped, will forgive, for its brevity. Mr. An- 
 thoriy a Wood, the famous antiquary, in his Athenae Ox- 
 onienses, gives us to understand, that this Halph Button, at
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. vii 
 
 his election into his fellowship of Merton college, which he 
 gained solely by his merit, while others that were chosen 
 with him obtained theirs by favour and the custom of se- 
 niority, gave occasion for a notable pun made by Dr. Pri- 
 deaux, then rector of Exeter college, who said, " That all 
 " that were elected besides him were not worth a Button." 1 ' 
 The said gentleman afterwards succeeded to a canonry 
 of Christ Church, in the room of the learned and pious Dr. 
 Henry Hammond, who was removed by the iniquity of the 
 times ; and at his own ejection afterwards by the commis- 
 sioners appointed by the king, upon his majesty's most happy 
 restoration, while his goods were carrying out of possession, 
 upon hearing the two bells ringing for canonical prayers in 
 Christ Church, cried, " There now go the mass bells ; and 
 " let those that are affected that way go to the church ; for 
 " be sure I shall not. 11 He went from Oxford to Islington, 
 near London, where he continued a dissenting teacher and 
 a schoolmaster till the year 1680, when he died, and was 
 buried with his son (who departed this life at the same time) 
 in Islington church. 
 
 In 1659 Mr. South, after having been admitted into holy 
 orders the year before, according to the rites and ceremonies 
 of the church of England, (then abolished,) by a regular, 
 though deprived bishop, was pitched upon to preach the as- 
 size sermon, before the judges. For which end, he took his 
 text from the tenth chapter of St. Matthew's gospel, ver. 33. 
 Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny 
 before my Father which is in heaven. This sermon was 
 called by him, Interest deposed, and Truth restored, Sec. 
 and had this remarkable paragraph in it concerning the 
 teachers of those days, viz. " When such men preach of self- 
 " denial and humility, I cannot but think of Seneca, who 
 " praised poverty, and that very safely, in the midst of his 
 " great riches and gardens, and even exhorted the world to 
 " throw away their gold, perhaps (as one well conjectures) that 
 " he might gather it up : so these desire men to be humble, 
 " that they may domineer without opposition. But it is an 
 " easy matter to commend patience, when there is no danger 
 
 b4
 
 viii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " of any trials, to extol humility in the midst of honours, 
 " to begin a fast after dinner a ." 
 
 In the close of the said sermon, after having applied him- 
 self to the judges with proper exhortations, that bespoke his 
 intrepidity of soul, he addressed himself to the audience in 
 these words ; " If ever it was seasonable to preach courage 
 " in the despised, abused cause of Christ, it is now, when 
 " his truths are reformed into nothing, when the hands 
 " and hearts of his faithful ministers are weakened, and 
 " even broke, and his worship extirpated in a mockery, 
 " that his honour may be advanced. Well, to establish our 
 " hearts in duty, let us beforehand propose to ourselves the 
 " worst that can happen. Should God in his judgment suf- 
 " fer England to be transformed into a Munster ; should the 
 " faithful be everywhere massacred ; should the places of 
 " learning be demolished, and our colleges reduced not only 
 " (as one in his zeal would have it b ) to three, but to none ; 
 " yet, assuredly, hell is worse than all this, and is the portion 
 " of such as deny Christ : therefore let our discourage- 
 " ments be what they will, loss of places, loss of estates, 
 " loss of life and relations, yet still this sentence stands rati- 
 " fied in the decrees of Heaven, Cursed be that man that for 
 " any of these shall desert the truth, and deny his Lord." 
 
 To return to Mr. South : He was not made university 
 orator till the tenth of August 1660, after he had preached 
 a most excellent sermon to the king's commissioners, on the 
 29th of July in the same year, called, The Scribe instructed, 
 from Matth. xiii. ver. 52. Therefore every scribe which is 
 instructed unto the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man 
 that is an Iwuseholder, which bringeth forth out of his trea- 
 sure things new and old: for which he was highly ap- 
 plauded for many excellent and sarcastical expressions 
 against the sectarists, late in power. Among other expres- 
 sions, nothing can be more beautiful and to the purpose, 
 
 a Very credibly reported to have army, the perfidious cause of Pen- 
 been done in an independent con- ruddock's death, and some time after 
 gregation at Oxon. high sheriff of Oxfordshire. 
 
 b Unton Croke, a colonel in the
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. ix 
 
 than when he speaks of the qualification of a scribe in these 
 words : 
 
 " Qualification," says he, " which is an habitual prepa- 
 " ration by study, exercise, and due improvement of the 
 " same. Powers act but weakly and irregularly, till they 
 " are heightened and perfected by their habits. A well radi- 
 " cated habit, in a lively, vegete faculty, is like an apple of 
 "gold in a picture of silver; it is perfection upon perfec- 
 " tion ; it is a coat of mail upon our armour ; and, in a word, 
 " it is the raising of the soul at least one story higher ; for take 
 " off but the wheels, and the powers in all their operations 
 " will drive but heavily. Now it is not enough to have 
 " books, or for a man to have his divinity in his pocket, or 
 *' upon the shelf, but he must have mastered his notions, 
 " till they even incorporate into his mind, so as to be able 
 " to produce and wield them upon all occasions ; and not, 
 " when a difficulty is proposed, and a performance enjoined, 
 " to say, that he will consult such and such authors. For 
 " this is not to be a divine, who is rather to be a walking 
 " library than a walking index. As, to go no farther than 
 " the similitude in the text, we should not account him a 
 " good and generous housekeeper, who should not have al- 
 " Ava^s something of standing provision by him, so as never 
 " to be surprised, but that he should still be found able to 
 " treat his friend at least, though perhaps not always pre- 
 " sently to feast him. So the scribe here spoken of should 
 " have an inward, lasting fulness and sufficiency, to sup- 
 " port and bear him up, especially when present per- 
 " formance urges, and actual preparation can be but short. 
 " Thus it is not the 'oil in the wick, but in the vessel, which 
 " must feed the lamp. The former indeed may cause a 
 " present blaze, but it is the latter which must give a lasting 
 " light. It is not the spending-money a man has in his 
 " pocket, but his hoards in the chest or in the bank, which 
 " must make him rich. A dying man has his breath in his 
 " nostrils, but to have it in the lungs is that which must 
 " preserve life. Nor will it suffice to have raked up a few 
 " notions here and there, or to rally all one's little utmost
 
 x MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " into one discourse, which can constitute a divine, or give 
 " a man stock enough to set up with ; any more than a sol- 
 " dier who had filled his snapsack should thereupon set up 
 " for keeping house. No, a man would then quickly be 
 " drained, his short stock would serve but for one meeting 
 " in ordinary converse, and he would be in danger of meet- 
 " ing with the same company twice. And therefore there 
 " must be store, plenty, and a treasure, lest he turn broker 
 " in divinity, and having run the round of a beaten, ex- 
 " hausted common-place, be forced to stand still, or go 
 " the same round over again ; pretending to his auditors, 
 " that it is profitable for them to hear the same truths often 
 " inculcated to them ; though I humbly conceive, that to 
 " inculcate the same truths is not of necessity to repeat the 
 " same words. And therefore, to avoid such beggarly pre- 
 '* tences, there must be habitual preparation to the work we 
 " are now speaking of." 
 
 Again, speaking of the malignants in the times of the 
 same unnatural rebellion, he says, " There was no saving of 
 " life with those men, without purging away the estate. 11 
 
 Then, describing the teachers of those days, he declares, 
 that " first of all they seize upon some text ; from whence 
 " they draw something, (which they call doctrine ;) and well 
 " may it be said to be drawn from the words, forasmuch as 
 " it seldom naturally flows or results from them. In the 
 " next place, being thus provided, they branch it into se- 
 " veral heads, perhaps twenty, or thirty, or upwards. 
 " Whereupon, for the prosecution of these, they repair to 
 " some trusty concordance, which never fails them, and, by 
 " the help of that, they range six or seven scriptures under 
 " each head : which scriptures they prosecute one by one ; 
 " first amplifying and enlarging upon one for some con- 
 " siderable time, till they have spoiled it ; and then, that 
 " being done, they pass to another, which in its turn suf- 
 " fers accordingly. And these impertinent and unpremedi- 
 " tated enlargements they look upon as the motions, effects, 
 " and breathings of the Spirit, and therefore much beyond 
 " those carnal ordinances of sense and reason, supported
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xi 
 
 " by industry and study; and this they call a saving way of 
 "preaching^ as it must be confessed to be a way to save 
 " much labour, and nothing else, that I know of." Ibid. 
 
 Some time after this, Edward earl of Clarendon, lord 
 high chancellor of England, and chancellor of the university 
 of Oxford, in consideration of a speech spoken by him, 
 which you will find in the posthumous works hereunto an- 
 nexed, at his investiture into the last high dignity, did him 
 the honour of taking him for his domestic chaplain, whereby 
 he was in the road to church preferments, and was installed 
 prebendary of St. Peter's, Westminster, March 30, 1663. 
 He likewise, by virtue of a letter from, and the desire of 
 the said earl, his patron, stood candidate for the degree of 
 doctor in divinity, on the first of October in the same year ; 
 and obtained it by a majority of the convocation house, 
 though strenuous opposition was made against the grant of 
 that favour by the bachelors of divinity and masters of 
 arts, who were against such a concession, by reason that he 
 was a master of arts but of six years standing ; after a scru- 
 tiny, it being accordingly pronounced granted by the se- 
 nior proctor, Nathaniel Crew, M. A. fellow of Lincoln col- 
 lege, and now lord bishop of Durham : in consequence of 
 which, by the double presentation of Dr. John Wallis, Sa- 
 vilian professor of geometry, he was instantly first admitted 
 bachelor, then doctor in divinity. 
 
 Much about the same time, the doctor was made choice 
 of to preach a sermon at the consecration of a chapel ; in 
 the preface to which are these remarkable expressions: 
 " After the happy expiration of those times which had re- 
 " formed so many churches to the ground, and in which 
 " men used to express their honour to God and their al- 
 " legiance to their prince the same way, demolishing the 
 " palaces of the one, and the temples of the other ; it is now 
 " our glory and felicity, that God has changed men's tem- 
 " pers with the times, and made a spirit of building succeed 
 " a spirit of pulling down, by a miraculous revolution ; re- 
 " ducing many from the head of a triumphant rebellion to 
 " their old condition of masons, smiths, and carpenters, that
 
 xii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " in this capacity they might repair what, as colonels and 
 " captains, they had ruined and defaced. 
 
 " But still it is strange to see any ecclesiastical pile, not 
 " by ecclesiastical cost and influence rising above ground, 
 " especially -in an age in which men's mouths are open 
 " against the church, but their hands are shut towards it ; an 
 " age in which, respecting the generality of men, we might 
 " as soon expect stones to be made bread., as to be made 
 " churches. But the more epidemical and prevailing this 
 " evil is, the more honourable are those who stand and 
 " shine as exceptions from the common practice : and may 
 " such places, built for the divine worship, derive an honour 
 " and a blessing upon the head of the builders, as great and 
 " lasting as the curse and infamy that never fails to rest 
 " upon the sacrilegious violators of them ; and a greater, I 
 " am sure, I need not, I cannot wish." 
 
 On the 29th of the month of December, 1670, the doctor 
 was installed a canon of Christ Church in Oxford, being the 
 fifth rightful incumbent of the third stall ever since the 
 foundation in 1549, vacant by the death of Dr. Richard 
 Gardiner, at the request of whose executors he wrote the 
 following epitaph, which is to be seen in the dormitory on 
 the north side of that cathedral church. 
 
 H. S. I. 
 
 Venerabilis Vir 
 
 Richardus Gardiner, S. T. P. 
 
 Ecclesiae hujus primum Alumnus, 
 
 Dein Canonicus; 
 
 Quo in munere, 
 
 Cum diu se magna cum laude exercuisset, 
 
 Majorc eodem cessit : 
 
 Fanaticorum furoribus, fortunis omnibus exutus 
 Ut fidi-in quam Deo et Principi obligaverat, 
 
 Illibatam retineret. 
 
 Postliminio tandem restitutus, 
 
 Eadem Constantia qua ereptas spreverat opes, 
 
 Contemnebat affluentes 
 
 Munincentia siquidem perenni, 
 
 Et Aquaeductus qucm bic loci stnixerat aemula, 
 
 Ecclesiam hanc, 
 Patriam suam Herefordiam,
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xiii 
 
 Cognates, 
 
 A mi cos, 
 
 Pauperes 
 
 Cumulatissime perfuclit. 
 
 Deraum 
 
 Mentis juxta atque aniiis plenus, 
 
 Viridi senecta, sensibusque integris, 
 
 Piain auimam Deo reddidit ; 
 
 Decembr. xx. 
 
 A. Salut. C!D IDCLXX. 
 
 JEtat. suse LXXIX. 
 
 I should have observed, before this period of time, that 
 the doctor caused a poem of his (entitled Musica Incantans, 
 sive Poema exprimens Musicce Vires, Juvenem in Insaniam 
 adigentis, et Musici inde Periculum) to be printed at the 
 request of his very good friend Dr. John Fell, in the 
 year 1667, though written in 1655, when he was ba- 
 chelor of arts, and that this was highly applauded ; as the 
 work of an extraordinary genius and a very ready wit, 
 for the beauty of its language, and the quickness of its 
 turns ; but the taste of the present age being contrary to 
 what it was in those days, and less given to flourishes of that 
 nature, I make it my choice not to be particular as to any 
 quotations from it, since the doctor, to his dying day, has 
 regretted the publication of it, as a juvenile and unmo- 
 mentary performance. I should also have acquainted the 
 reader, that the doctor was before this possessed of 75Z. per 
 ann. lands of inheritance, as of a copyhold estate of inherit- 
 ance in the manor of Cantlors alias Cantlow, in Kentish 
 Town, Middlesex, by the death of his father ; but not being 
 able to account for the year in which he died, must ask 
 leave to insert it in this place. 
 
 John Sobieski, grand marshal of Poland, having been 
 elected to fill the throne of that kingdom on account of his 
 great merits, and notable achievements in war against the 
 infidels and other enemies, on the death of king Michael 
 Wiesnowiski, who was supposed to have been poisoned by a 
 Frenchman at Zamoisk, his Britannic majesty, two years 
 after the said choice, which was made in 1674, gave creden- 
 tials to the honourable Lawrence Hyde, esq. son to the late
 
 xiv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 lord chancellor Clarendon, to act as ambassador extraordi- 
 nary to compliment that king thereupon, and to make pre- 
 sents to his new-born daughter the princess Teresa Cune- 
 gunda, (now electress of Bavaria,) to whom his majesty had 
 some time before stood godfather by proxy. Accordingly 
 Mr. Hyde, in pursuance of his commission, provided himself 
 with a most sumptuous equipage ; and out of his very great 
 respect to Dr. South, who had endeared himself to that 
 noble person by being his tutor, would needs take him with 
 him in the quality of his chaplain ; which the doctor very 
 readily agreed to, being of a very curious and inquisitive 
 temper, and desirous of being an eyewitness of the posture 
 of affairs in other countries, as well as his own. What im- 
 provements he made by these inquiries may be best seen by 
 an account of his, directed to Dr. Edward Pococke, then 
 regius professor of Hebrew in Oxford, and one of the 
 canons of Christ Church ; who, though of much longer 
 standing than the doctor, by his first entrance upon that 
 dignity in the year 1648, took such a liking to his conver- 
 sation, as to hold a most intimate friendship with him. The 
 said narrative runs thus, and is copied from Dr. South's 
 original manuscript. 
 
 My best Friend, and most lionoured Instructor, 
 TO keep my word with you, which I gave at Cornbury, 
 when we last parted, I send herein some account of my 
 voyage and travels, with a few observations on the country, 
 inhabitants, manners, and customs of the kingdom, whereof 
 I have been a cursory, and, I fear, but too curious an in- 
 vestigator ; though I do it with hope, that you, who have 
 so perfect a knowledge of the eastern world, by what you 
 have communicated to me concerning the affairs of the 
 Turkish court, Palestine, SEC. will pardon my falling infi- 
 nitely short of you in my description of one of the northern 
 kingdoms, whereof your avocations elsewhere may not have 
 allowed you the attainment of so just a description. 
 
 My lord ambassador set sail from Portsmouth, on board 
 the Tyger man of war, with the Swallow in company, and
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xv 
 
 some merchant ships under convoy, on the llth of June 
 last ; and after having stayed some few days in the Sound, 
 to despatch messages with compliments to the courts of 
 Sweden and Denmark, cast anchor before Dantzick on the 
 llth of August, where he was received under a discharge of 
 the artillery on the ramparts, and was the next day con- 
 ducted to an audience of the queen of Poland, (who had 
 made a journey thither, while the king her husband was in 
 the field,) wherein he paid her majesty the usual devoirs in 
 the name of his royal master, and presented the young 
 princess her daughter with a very rich jewel, and a cross of 
 diamonds of great value. 
 
 He afterwards, with a very magnificent retinue, set for- 
 ward for Poland, and was received by the king in his camp 
 near Leopol in Russia, with demonstrations of respect and 
 kindness suitable to his character and person, where his ma- 
 jesty did him the honour of sending some of his chief offi- 
 cers to shew him the army, and their way of encamping. 
 Having mentioned Leopo], which is the metropolis of the 
 palatinate of Russia, it may not be improper to tell you, 
 that this city is large and well fortified, having two castles, 
 one within the walls, and one without, on a rising ground, 
 which commands the town ; both which, together with the 
 city>~were founded by Leo duke of Russia, about the year 
 1289- The archbishop of this see is both spiritual and tem- 
 poral lord of his diocese. Here also reside an Armenian 
 archbishop, and a Russian bishop, depending on the patri- 
 arch of Constantinople, with several churches belonging to 
 each bishopric. The Armenian Roman Catholics have in- 
 habited here time out of mind, and are governed wholly by 
 their own prelate, enjoying very great privileges on account 
 of the considerable commerce they maintain with the Per- 
 sians and other eastern people. This city likewise gives 
 great encouragement to learned men, who are very civilly 
 received by their academy, which is supplied with professors 
 from that of Cracow; though, from what I could find from 
 those professors themselves, and the very bishops too, they 
 had as little furniture that way in their own persons (except
 
 xvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 an insight into the Latin tongue) as some of the meanest 
 of our Welsh clergy. The churches here are generally 
 fair and well built, and abound with all kinds of costly 
 ornaments. 
 
 The peace being happily concluded, to the advantage of 
 Poland, between his majesty and the Turks and Tartars, 
 whereof his excellency Mr. Hyde had no small share of the 
 management, the king returned in November to Zolkiew, 
 his own patrimony, which is a town in Russia, adorned and 
 defended by a castle, and intermixed with several delightful 
 gardens, with a fair church in the middle of it, built with 
 various sorts of marble, and whither the ambassador waiting 
 upon him, had his public audience there in a most solemn 
 manner. He was first carried in the king's coach, attended 
 by six of his own, twenty-four pages and footmen in rich 
 liveries, and sixty odd coaches of the chief nobility. When 
 arrived at the court, he was received by the chief marshal 
 (who is in the nature of a lord chamberlain) at the stairs 1 
 foot of the palace, and conducted to his majesty, who re- 
 ceived him standing under a canopy. Whereupon his excel- 
 lency delivered his master's compliments in a Latin speech c , 
 in which he gave assurances of the king of Great Britain's 
 inviolable attachment to that prince's interests, congratulated 
 him upon the last treaty of peace brought to a happy con- 
 clusion with the infidels, and made overtures to enter into 
 such alliances with the crown and republic of Poland, as 
 should be judged most conducive to the honour and safety of 
 both nations. 
 
 To this his Polish majesty gave a very agreeable and sa- 
 tisfactory answer in the same language, which he had readily 
 ad unguent, and caused the ambassador afterwards to sit 
 down at the same table with him, where he was attended by 
 the chief officers of state standing; it being a custom in 
 Poland to admit none to that honour but the princes of the 
 blood. 
 
 This king is a very well spoken prince, very easy of ac- 
 
 c This speech was written in English by Mr. Hyde, and turned into ele- 
 gaiit Latin by Dr. South.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xvii 
 
 cess, and extreme civil, having most of the qualities requi- 
 site to form a complete gentleman. He is not only well 
 versed in all military affairs, but likewise, through the 
 means of a French education, very opulently stored with 
 all polite and scholastical learning. Besides his own tongue, 
 the Sclavonian, he understands the Latin, French, Italian, 
 German, and Turkish languages : he delights much in na- 
 tural history, and in all the parts of physic ; he is wont to 
 reprimand the clergy for not admitting the modern philo- 
 sophy, such as Le Grand's and Cartesius's, into the univer- 
 sities and schools, and loves to hear people discourse of 
 those matters, and has a particular talent to set people about 
 him very artfully by the ears, that by their disputes he 
 might be directed, as it happened once or twice during this 
 embassy, where he shewed a poignancy of wit on the sub- 
 ject of a dispute held between the bishop of Posen and 
 father de la Motte, a Jesuit and his Majesty's confessor, 
 that gave me an extraordinary opinion of his parts. 
 
 As for what relates to his majesty's person, he is a tall 
 and corpulent prince, large faced, and full eyes, and goes 
 always in the same dress with his subjects, with his hair cut 
 round about his ears like a monk, and wears a fur cap, but 
 extraordinary rich with diamonds and jewels, large whiskers, 
 and no neckcloth. A long robe hangs down to his heels, in 
 the fashion of a coat, and a waistcoat under that, of the 
 same length, tied close about the waist with a girdle. He 
 never wears any gloves ; and this long coat is of strong scar- 
 let cloth, lined in the winter with rich fur, but in summer only 
 with silk. Instead of shoes, he always wears, both abroad 
 and at home, Turkey-leather boots, with very thin soles, and 
 hollow deep heels, made of a blade of silver bent hoop-wise 
 into the form of a half-moon. He carries always a large 
 scimetar by his side, the sheath equally flat and broad from 
 the handle to the bottom, and curiously set with diamonds. 
 
 His majesty married Mary de la Grange, daughter to the 
 Marquis of Arquien, some time after his accession to the 
 throne, made cardinal in complaisance to his majesty. This 
 lady, who was but ten or twelve years old when she came 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 xviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 from France into this kingdom with Ladislaus king of 
 Poland's queen, was at first made maid of honour to her ma- 
 jesty, being very ingenious and beautiful, and married to 
 prince Zamoiski, who soon left her a widow with a jointure 
 of about 2000/. per annum. She was afterwards married, in 
 Casimir's reign, to this John Sobieski, then captain of the 
 guards, who was not willing to take her in wedlock, until 
 the king had promised that he would give him considerable 
 places : which he accordingly, by the persuasion of his queen, 
 did ; for he made him great marshal and great general of 
 Poland, which gave him authority and interest enough to 
 make himself king, and her queen ; so that this marriage 
 was the occasion of his rise in the world ; which he was so 
 sensible of, that he refused to be divorced from her, as the 
 diet would have persuaded him to do, soon after his election. 
 
 The queen is now about thirty-three years of age, though 
 she appears not to be much above twenty: she is always at- 
 tired after the French mode, as all the Polish ladies are, and 
 speaks the Polish language full as well as her own natural 
 tongue ; which, with her sweet temper, refined sense, and 
 majestic air, has, since her accession to the throne, gained 
 her such affection with the Poles, such influence over 
 the king, and such interest lately among the senators, that 
 she manages all with a great deal of prudence, arid that to 
 the advantage of her native country France, who is very 
 much indebted to her for the backwardness of the Poles in 
 taking part with the emperor, and their forwardness in 
 striking up the late peace with Turkey and its dependents. 
 
 Thus far by way of remark on the persons and accom- 
 plishments of their majesties, and the manner of our recep- 
 tion at court. I am in the next place to take a view of the 
 most principal places in this kingdom, which my lord am- 
 bassador gave me an opportunity of surveying, by leaving 
 me behind (at my own request) after his return into Eng- 
 land through Silesia, Austria, and the empire, and to give a 
 succinct and faithful account of their economy in ecclesi- 
 astical as well as civil affairs. 
 
 I shall not enter upon a division of this great and wealthy
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xix 
 
 kingdom, which is branched out into eight distinct provinces, 
 and these into various palatinates ; neither shall I extend 
 ray observations further than to such cities and towns whi- 
 ther my curiosity led me, as they are places of note, and re- 
 sorted to as such by the most knowing and intelligent tra- 
 vellers. These are, Cracow, in Upper or Lesser Poland, its 
 chief metropolis and university ; and Vilna, in Lithuania, its 
 sister university, (like our Oxford and Cambridge,) and also 
 Posen, Gnesna, Lowitz, Warsaw, Thorn, Marienburgh, and 
 Dantzick. 
 
 To begin with the first. Cracow is a famous city, seated 
 in a spacious plain near the Weissel, by which merchandises 
 are transported to Dantzick. It takes its name from Cracus, 
 one of the first dukes of Poland ; and considering the stateli- 
 ness both of its public and private edifices, and the great 
 plenty of all manner of necessaries, it is said to be equal to 
 most towns of either Germany or Italy. It is encompassed 
 with a very high wall, and flanked round with high towers, 
 with a broad deep ditch walled round likewise, and a stately 
 castle, about a mile in circumference, founded on a rock, 
 near the banks of the river Vistula. It is a large stone 
 building, consisting of two wings magnificently raised about 
 a square court, having galleries supported with pillars, and 
 paved with black and white marble. The king's apartments, 
 with some others, are adorned with divers curious paintings 
 and statues ; and the country round about affords one of 
 the most delightful prospects in Europe. Here is a ca- 
 thedral of St. Stanislaus, protector of Poland ; in which a 
 late bishop of Cracow, Martin Szyscovius, repaired and 
 beautified his tomb, which before had been all of silver. This, 
 Sigismund III. and his son Uladislaus VII. (as pompous in- 
 scriptions tell us) greatly augmented, bestowing on it many 
 offerings of gold and silver vessels. Sigismund I. also, in 
 honour of this saint, built a silver altar near his tomb, be- 
 stowing on it several golden crucifixes, and as many vest- 
 ments richly bedecked with gems of all sorts. His daughter 
 Anne, likewise wife to king Stephen, built another silver 
 altar in the chapel of the Annunciation, whose roof is all
 
 xx MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 gilded, and wherein the kings of Poland are wont to be 
 interred. 
 
 This cathedral is principally to be noted for its chapter 
 and treasury ; and the bishop of it is lord over thirteen 
 cities, and prince, that is, commander in chief, of the duchy 
 of Severia. His chapter, which consists of about thirty 
 canons, with several other inferior priests, having a pro- 
 portional provision to his revenue, which is between 11 and 
 12,0007. sterling per annum ; the very lowest salary of the 
 meanest ecclesiastic there being 100Z. yearly of our money. 
 It was first erected into a metropolitan see, upon the first 
 planting of the Christian religion in Poland, by Miecislaus I. 
 but within an hundred years after degenerated into a bishop- 
 ric under the archbishop of Gnesna, in regard that Lambert 
 Pula could not be persuaded to receive his pall from the see 
 of Rome ; yet upon submission he was afterwards restored 
 to that dignity, but which lasted only for his life, his suc- 
 cessors having been ever since only bishops. 
 
 There are about fifty other churches, as well in the castle 
 as the town ; whereof the most celebrated is that of the Virgin 
 Mary in the circle of Cracow, which is governed by an arch- 
 presbyter, and fronts ten large streets ; having moreover on 
 all sides four rows of magnificent structures. 
 
 A university was first begun here by Casimir the Great, 
 who came to the throne in the year 1333, and reigned to the 
 year 1370, and finished by Uladislaus Jagello, having its pri- 
 vileges confirmed soon after by pope Urban VI. However, as 
 the rector, Mr. Siniawiski, brother to the palatine of that name, 
 told me, the scholars forsook it in 1549, by reason that 
 the magistrates would not do them justice on some persons 
 that had murdered great numbers of them, and afterwards 
 dispersed themselves into several parts of Germany, and be- 
 coming Protestants, spread the Lutheran religion through 
 Poland, and gained a great number of proselytes ; yet, not- 
 withstanding all this, they returned to the obedience of the 
 see of Rome. 
 
 In this university are taught all sorts of learning, (though, 
 as I take it, superficially,) and the Poles (but I dissent from
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxi 
 
 them) hold it to be as great an ornament to their country as 
 Athens was formerly to Greece. It contains in all eleven 
 colleges. Fourteen grammar schools are also scattered 
 throughout the city, in which also sometimes university 
 learning is taught. 
 
 All these colleges and schools are governed by a rector, 
 or vice-chancellor, who takes care that orders may be duly 
 observed, and functions rightly administered ; which is so 
 great an encouragement, that there is scarce any ecclesi- 
 astical or political dignity in the kingdom but is filled by per- 
 sons that have received their education in this university. 
 
 In the monasteries also are taught both philosophy and 
 divinity ; but more especially in that of the Dominicans of 
 the Trinity, where there are daily lectures kept, and several 
 kinds of moral learning also promoted. 
 
 There are likewise several sorts of mendicant friars in 
 this city, who, upon solemn feasts, according to the ancient 
 custom, go in procession, clothed in divers colours, and are 
 very merry devotionalists on those occasions ; such as the 
 mendicants of the Rosary, of the Mercy, of the Mantle, of 
 the Passion, of the body of Christ, saint Sophia, saint Anne* 
 saint Morjica ; names not very agreeable to their unmortified 
 paunches. 
 
 2. Vilna, whose palatine is chief governor, is situated 
 near the conflux of the rivers Wilia and Wiln, from whence 
 it has its name, and is a large and populous city, capital of 
 the great duchy of Lithuania, and well fortified with two 
 castles ; whereof one is built in a plain, and the other on a 
 hill. Of these two castles, that on a hill is very ancient, and 
 almost ruined ; but the other is a pile of beautiful modern 
 architecture. The churches here are all of stone, both those 
 belonging to the Roman and Russian persuasions. The ca- 
 thedral lies in the lower castle, wherein is deposited the 
 body of St. Casimir, canonized by pope Leo X. in a large 
 silver tomb of great value. Here also is a very large bell, 
 like to one of the same bigness at Cracow, which requires 
 above four and twenty strong men to ring it ; and within 
 this castle also the metropolitan of Russia holds his archi- 
 episcopal see.
 
 xxii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 Among other public edifices, (most of the private being 
 very mean ones, and built of wood, except some few belong- 
 ing to the gentry and foreign merchants,) is the great duke ? s 
 palace, in which is a very celebrated guard chamber, fur- 
 nished with all sorts of arms : and about two English miles 
 from this city stands another ducal palace, named from its 
 situation Rudnick, that is, near the water. This palace is 
 entirely built of wood, but most deliciously beautified and 
 set off with a pleasant park, agreeable gardens, and fruitful 
 orchards. 
 
 As for the academy of this city, it was founded by king 
 Stephen in the year 1579, and erected into an university by 
 Pope Gregory XIII. at the request of Valerian, bishop of 
 Vilna. In this university are six professors of divinity, five 
 of philosophy, four of laws, and seven of humanity ; which 
 have each of them much greater salaries, besides other pre- 
 ferments in the church and state, than such bunglers in 
 their respective arts and sciences deserve ; since many of our 
 servitors at Oxford are better read, and abler to fill those 
 chairs, than any of them but the sieur Sfroski, who had ac- 
 quired some knowledge in natural philosophy and the ma- 
 thematics by his travels into foreign parts. However, I 
 found myself under a necessity of extolling them for their 
 profound knowledge, and of closing in with every opinion 
 they at random gave vent to, for the sake of my own quiet : 
 since their pride, if any ways mortified by contradictions 
 from strangers, pushes them upon unforeseen extremities; 
 and it is the best and surest way to be of the same mind 
 with them, if any one takes a good liking for the security 
 of his body. 
 
 As for other remarkable buildings and observations here, 
 though there are several fair edifices, I find none more 
 worthy of notice than a large beautiful storehouse, all of 
 brick, erected by the Muscovite company for the repository 
 of their furs, ermines, and other rich merchandises brought 
 from Moscow ; so that when I have said that it is famous 
 for having guns of all sorts cast, and likewise divers other 
 warlike instruments of excellent workmanship made in it, 
 and the tribunal of all Lithuania is kept there, I have done
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxiii 
 
 it more honour than all the scholars I have conversed with 
 here, barring one or two exceptions from the general rule, 
 can do it by their excellence in any one sort of academical 
 erudition. 
 
 Having just parted with their two universities, that may, 
 without impropriety of expression, be called sisters, from 
 their affinity in ignorance, it is but natural to particularize 
 in their studies, the chief of which is to speak good Latin ; 
 for as to all parts of polite learning, the Poles are not so 
 curious as in other countries, yet have they a great many 
 that will write tolerably good verses, for their genius is 
 mightily bent that way ; and besides, they are very apt to 
 quote classic authors in their discourse; and this particu- 
 larly when they get drunk, (a vice they are too frequently 
 addicted to,) and are elevated up to a conceited pitch. 
 Their poet Sarbievus Casimir is no small ornament to his 
 country, who in his Odes has endeavoured to imitate Ho- 
 race ; and the purity of his language is not contemptible. 
 
 I learned that Latin came so much in vogue with them 
 from this accident. King Casimir the second and the king 
 of Sweden had an interview at Dantzick, wherein the latter, 
 with all his court, spoke that language fluently, but neither 
 Casimir nor any of his attendants could do any thing like it, 
 but were forced to make use of a poor monk, whom for that 
 service his Polish majesty advanced to a bishopric, to explain 
 their sentiments. Of which being heartily ashamed, the king 
 caused great encouragement to be given to such as would 
 make Latin their study, which began thenceforward to be 
 much in practice : so that when king Sigismund sent the 
 bishop of Varmia his ambassador to Vienna, his imperial 
 majesty was surprised to hear the very Polish coachmen 
 and postillions very dexterously and fluently explain them- 
 selves in that tongue, which was mightily encouraged also 
 by king Stephen Bathori, who is reported often to have said 
 to the sons of his attendants, Discite Latine, nam unum ex 
 vobis aliquando fatiam Moschi Pan, (a great lord ;) which 
 contributed very much to the increase of arts and sciences. 
 
 As for learned men, though the Poles have mightily de-
 
 xxlv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 generated in this present age, they have had several Latin 
 historians among them, such as Cromerus, Sturavolsius, &c. 
 who have all written the annals and constitutions of their 
 country. They have likewise been furnished with some his- 
 torians who have written in their own language. They also 
 have not wanted learned divines, great philosophers, famous 
 astronomers, logicians, &c. And it is to be remembered to 
 the honour of Poland, that the great astronomer Nicolaus 
 Copernicus was a native of Thorn in Regal Prussia. And 
 the reason why those learned men have not transmitted 
 more of their works to posterity is, that while they lived, 
 there was but little or no printing in this kingdom, that art 
 having been but lately received here. 
 
 Yet though the Poles are so extremely expert in making 
 and writing Latin, they are not curious in any of the ori- 
 ental tongues. As to other languages, as the inhabitants of 
 this country have the same origin with the Muscovites, Bo- 
 hemians, Croatians, Moravians, Silesians, Cassabians, Bul- 
 garians, Rascians, Servians, Illyrians, &c. so they have like- 
 wise the same language with them, notwithstanding they 
 differ in dialects, and are scarce to be understood by each 
 other. Their terms of mechanic arts are chiefly borrowed 
 from the ancient Germans, who formerly had, as they still 
 have, frequent intercourses with this country. Nay, there 
 are at present whole towns and villages that make use of the 
 German tongue ; that nation having formerly planted several 
 colonies in this kingdom. There are also several of the 
 noble families here purely German, as may appear both 
 by their names and their coats of arms. 
 
 The Polish language, as their chief historian Cromerus 
 allows, is neither so copious nor so easy to pronounce, as 
 those of other nations ; but as the French, Italian, &c. consists 
 chiefly of vowels, that of Poland is made up in great mea- 
 sure with consonants ; insomuch that you shall sometimes 
 meet with Polish words that have seven or eight consonants 
 together, without any vowel, or at most but one or two inter- 
 posed ; an example of which, sir, you may have in the word 
 Chrzeszes, (scarabceus^ a gadfly-) this, with others in the
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxv 
 
 Polish tongue, scarce the natives themselves are able to 
 pronounce ; yet they have always a sort of lisping sound of 
 vowels in their pronunciation, though they do not write 
 them. 
 
 To return to the Latin tongue ; it must not be under- 
 stood, how universally soever it is spoken here, that the 
 Poles have it from their mothers, as the common people 
 have in some parts of Hungary ; for they take pains to learn 
 it from masters, as other nations do. The chief reason why 
 they generally affect it is, first, from their natural dispositions 
 to learn it. Secondly, by reason of the syntax of their mo- 
 ther tongue, the Sclavonian, which has great affinity with 
 that language ; for they both decline their nouns, and con- 
 jugate their verbs, as the Romans did. Thirdly, because in 
 all the villages throughout the nation they have school- 
 masters for that purpose, who are either rectors of parishes, 
 or some other qualified persons appointed by them or by the 
 bishop of the diocese. And fourthly, because in all towns of 
 note the Jesuits have colleges set apart to instruct youth in 
 that language. 
 
 As to the study of divinity in Poland, those of that pro- 
 fession make all their learning consist in adapting Aristotle^s 
 logic -end metaphysics to their school divinity; so that you 
 may everywhere hear them talk much of entities, modes, 
 quiddities, essences of things, and the like ; for they value 
 themselves more in the signification of logical terms than in 
 the nature of things themselves which they reason about.- 
 Albertus Magnus is in great esteem here, and is perpetually 
 quoted to attest the truth of any assertion, with as much 
 vehemence as Aristotle by the Italians and Spaniards; 
 though, as it has been said before, the natives of this king- 
 dom have not less respect for this last philosopher than 
 other nations have. Yet notwithstanding, they seldom take 
 his meaning right, more especially in matters that are am- 
 biguous ; for they have published several large commentaries 
 upon him, which besides contradicting each other, like our 
 Dutch annotators, stand in need of explanations themselves. 
 The Polish divines likewise are seldom well versed in prac-
 
 xxvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 tical divinity. They look very little into the Old and New 
 Testament, and make few inquiries into the practice of pri- 
 mitive Christianity, having but a small insight into church 
 history. In a word, they trouble their heads but seldom 
 about convincing their reason of the sublimity and goodness 
 of the Christian doctrine ; implicit faith, and passive obe- 
 dience to council and church decisions being entirely their 
 guides. So that they will allow of nobody's search into the 
 reasonableness of things, as if they should imagine, that a 
 law or a doctrine given by God should not be consistent 
 with reason. They have also a more than ordinary respect 
 for Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus ; their principal eru- 
 dition consisting in being icell read in the school points 
 controverted by those two great men, how ill soever they 
 are understood. 
 
 I could instance in other arts and sciences ; but those not 
 being of so near a conceni to your own studies, as that of 
 divinity, I make it my choice to return to the description of 
 the towns I have undertaken to give an account of. The 
 next of which, in the third place, is Posen, situated on the river 
 Varta. It lies in the midst of several hills, environed with a 
 strong double wall and a very deep ditch. The city itself, 
 it must be confessed, is but small, yet nevertheless exceed- 
 ing beautiful, and well built, its edifices for the most part 
 being of stone. Among the public structures, the most con- 
 siderable is the castle, raised upon a small eminence between 
 the rivers Varta and Prosna. It is generally provided with 
 all sorts of ammunition, and wants for neither strength nor 
 beauty. The rest of the public buildings may justly claim 
 the like character, though the most stately lie on the other 
 side of the river Varta in the suburbs, which are vfcry large. 
 The cathedral church, with a college of prebendaries, and 
 the bishop's palace, are situated among the marshes, and form 
 a pile of buildings that is called Valilovia, and built so 
 strong, that, like the town, it is able to withstand a siege. 
 John Lubransius, a bishop of this see, founded a college 
 here, to be visited by that of Cracow, and which was after- 
 wards very much augmented and beautified by Adam Co-
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxvii 
 
 narius, his successor, and farther enriched by one Rosra- 
 sevius with several noble gifts. So that though the Jesuits 
 have a college in the city, where several sorts of literature 
 are taught with great encouragement, this also in the sub- 
 urbs does not want for noble youth, who daily flock thither 
 to be instructed by the lectures of mathematics and law. 
 These suburbs are all surrounded by a morass and a great 
 lake. They are frequently laid under water by the over- 
 flowing of the Varta, insomuch that sometimes, with the 
 neighbouring villages for several miles together, the tops of 
 the houses are only to be seen. This inundation likewise 
 often extends to the town itself, notwithstanding its high 
 walls, in such a manner that boats have been known to swim 
 about the streets. But this lasts not long, for the waters 
 commonly retire in two or three days at farthest. 
 
 The inhabitants of this city are generally Roman Catho- 
 lics, though vast numbers of Jews live also among them. 
 The government is executed by a starost, chosen yearly out 
 of the schipens, or aldermen, who, as long as this office lasts, 
 enjoys also the title of general of Great Poland. 
 
 Seven miles from hence lies Gnesna, from the Sclavonian 
 word gniazdo, which signifies a nest ; which, in the fourth 
 place^, has its situation (as most of the towns in these parts 
 have) amongst bogs and hills. It is an archbishop's see, and 
 gives title to the primate of all Poland. This was formerly 
 the metropolis of the whole kingdom, having been built by 
 Lechus, the first founder thereof. In the cathedral is re- 
 posited a great quantity of inestimable treasure, most of 
 which is owing to the tomb of St. Adelbert, raised in the 
 middle of the church, cased about with silver, by Sigismund 
 III. and the gifts of Henry Firlesus, late archbishop of 
 that diocese, who, among other rarities, gave his mitre, 
 valued at 2000Z. sterling. The gates opening to this church 
 are all of Corinthian brass curiously wrought, which were 
 first taken from the monastery of Corsuna in Taurica Cher- 
 sonesus, afterwards removed to Kiow, and this brought 
 hither by order of king Boleslaus II. 
 
 Amongst other things worthy of remark, I observed here,
 
 xxviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 for I never thought it a damnable sin (like our sectarists in 
 England, who call themselves by the soft name of Protestant 
 dissenters) to be acquainted with their ceremonies at saying 
 mass, that, while any part of the gospel was reading, every 
 man drew his sword half way out of its scabbard, to testify 
 his forwardness to defend the Christian faith ; which has 
 been a custom put in practice throughout all Poland ever 
 since the reign of king Miecislaus, who was the first of that 
 character in this kingdom who embraced Christianity, in the 
 year of our Lord 964, and was the first sovereign prince of 
 it that renounced paganism. 
 
 The next city I promised you an account of is Lowitz, 
 much more populous than the very capital of the palatinate 
 of Rava. And this, in the fifth place, is famous for being 
 the wonted residence of the archbishop of Gnesna and pri- 
 mate of Poland. His palace there is built among the 
 marshes, yet nevertheless consists of several fair piles of 
 building. The church also is a very beautiful structure, and 
 enriched with several noble gifts. It has likewise a great 
 many considerable monasteries, abbeys, &c. but nothing 
 more worthy of notice than a very fair library, replete with 
 books of all kinds, but very rarely turned over, (as I could 
 perceive by the covers,) they being placed there rather for 
 shew and ostentation than any real use or instruction. The 
 keeper of this library is monsieur de St. Piere, a Frenchman, 
 who was likewise cross-bearer to his eminence the cardinal 
 primate, and a person every way qualified for that office. 
 He shewed me several valuable books in all languages, that 
 might have excited the curiosity of one that had not seen 
 that magazine of all useful knowledge, the Bodleian library ; 
 but nothing pleased me more than a sight of an inscription 
 on the monument of the last king of Poland but one, who 
 voluntarily, in 1668, left his kingdom, and retiring into 
 France, died afterwards at Nevers in 1671. It was written 
 by the librarian's correspondent, father Francis Delfault: 
 which, for the excellency in its kind, I took a transcript of, 
 after the following manner :
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxix 
 
 JEternx Memoriae 
 REGIS ORTHODOXI 
 
 HEIC 
 
 Post emensos Virtutis 
 
 Ac Gloriae Gradus omnes, 
 
 Quiescit nobili sui Parte, 
 
 Johannes Casimirus, 
 
 Polouiae, 
 
 Ac Sueciae Rex ; 
 
 Alto e Jagellonidum 
 
 Sanguine 
 
 Familia Vasatensi 
 
 POSTREMUS, 
 
 Quia summus 
 
 LITERIS, ARMIS, PIETATE. 
 
 Multarum Gentium Linguas 
 Addidicit, quo illas propensius 
 
 Sibi devinciret. 
 Septendecim Praeliis collatis 
 
 Cum Hoste Signis, 
 Totidem Uno minus vicit, 
 
 SEMPER INVICTUS 
 
 Moscovitas, Suecos, Brandeburgenses, 
 
 Tartaros, Germaiios, 
 
 ARMIS; 
 
 Cosacos, aliosque Rebelles 
 Gratia, ac Beneficiis 
 
 EXPUGNAVIT. 
 Victoria Regem eis se praebens, 
 
 dementia Patrem. 
 
 Denique totis Viginti Imperii Anuis 
 
 Fortunam Virtu te vincens, 
 
 Aulam habuit in Caslris, 
 
 Palatia in Tentoriis, 
 
 Spectacula in 
 
 Triumphis. 
 
 Liberos ex legitimo Connubio 
 
 Suscepit, queis postea orbatus est, 
 
 Ne si Se majorem reliquisset, 
 
 NOD esset Ipse maximus, 
 
 Sin minorem, Stirps degeneraret. 
 
 Par ei ad Fortitudinem 
 
 Religio fuit, 
 Nee segnius Caelo militavit, 
 
 QUAM SOLO. 
 
 Hinc extructa Mouasteria, et 
 
 Nosocomia Varsaviae,
 
 xxx MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 Calvinianoruin Fana in 
 
 Lithuania excisa : 
 
 Sociniani Regno pulsi 
 
 Ne Casimirum haberent Regem, 
 
 Qui Christum Deum non 
 
 Haberent. 
 
 Senatus a yarns Sectis ad 
 Catholicae Fidei Communionem 
 
 Adductus, 
 Ut Ecclesiae Legibus 
 
 Continerentur 
 Qui Jura Populis dicerent. 
 
 Unde illi praeclarum 
 
 ORTHODOXI NOMEN 
 
 Ab Alexandra Septimo 
 
 Inditum. 
 
 Humanae denique Glorias 
 
 Fastigium praetergressus, 
 
 Cum nihil praeclarius agere 
 
 Posset, 
 Jmperium Sponte abdicavit 
 
 ANNO M.D.C.LXVIII. 
 
 Turn porro Lachrymae, quas 
 
 Nulli regnans excusserat, 
 
 Omnium Oculis mauarunt, 
 
 Qui abeuntem Regem, non secus 
 
 Atque obeuntem Patrem 
 
 LUXERE. 
 Vitae Reliquum in Pietatis 
 
 Officiis cum exegisset, 
 
 Taudetn audita Kameciae 
 
 Expugnatione, ne tantae Cladi 
 
 Superesset, 
 
 CHARITATE PATRLE 
 
 VULNERATUS OCCUBUIT 
 
 XVII. Cal. Jan. M.D.C.LXXII. 
 
 Regium Cor Monachis hujus 
 
 Ccenobii, cui Abbas praefuerat, 
 
 Araoris Pignus reliquit; 
 
 Quod illi istoc Tumulo 
 
 Mosrentes condiderunt.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxxi 
 
 4. Warsaw is the metropolis of the province of Masovia, 
 defended with a castle, wall, and ditch, seated in a plain in 
 the very centre of the kingdom, and therefore pitched upon 
 for convening of the diet. It is divided into four parts, viz. 
 the old and new town, the suburbs of Cracow and Praag, and 
 adorned with divers stately piles of buildings, particularly a 
 stately palace, built in four squares by king Sigismund III. 
 and much improved by his successor ; whereof the present 
 king John, by some foundations of apartments which he has 
 caused to be laid, is not to be the last mentioned in history. 
 Opposite to this, on the other side of the river, stands an- 
 other royal palace in the middle of delightful groves and 
 gardens, erected by Uladislaus VII. and called by the name 
 of Viasdow, where the states or diet of Poland formerly used 
 to sit and debate the most important affairs of the kingdom. 
 Here is moreover the palace of king John Casimir, a most 
 exquisite piece of architecture ; as likewise another, of the 
 same beauty and magnitude, built by count Morstin, great 
 treasurer of Poland : also, within a league of this city, king 
 John Sobieski is now laying the foundations of a neat 
 country palace, which is to be called Villa Nova. The other 
 public edifices are no less remarkable ; being the church of 
 St. John' Baptist, where secular canons officiate, the arsenal, 
 castle, market-place. And divers kinds of merchandises 
 are conveyed hither along a river from the neighbouring 
 provinces, and from hence carried to Dantzick, to be trans- 
 ported into foreign countries. In the suburbs of Cracow is 
 a small chapel, built on purpose for the burial of John De- 
 metrius Suski, grand duke of Muscovy, who died prisoner 
 in the castle of Gostinin, together with his two brothers. 
 This city was taken by the Swedes in 1655, but recovered, 
 with other acquisitions in war, by the Poles some time 
 after. 
 
 5. Thorn, the second city of the second palatinate of 
 Regal Prussia, is seated upon the banks of the Vistula, by 
 which it is divided into two parts. It lies four Polish miles 
 from Culm, the metropolis, (though of little note, because 
 ruined in a manner by the Swedes) to the south, thirteen
 
 xxxii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 from Marienburgh, twenty-two from Dantzick, and twenty- 
 nine from Warsaw. It was heretofore an imperial and free 
 city, but afterwards exempted from the jurisdiction of the 
 empire, and as yet enjoys many privileges. Its name seems 
 to have been taken from the German word thor, signifying 
 a gate, because built by the Teutonick order, as it were for 
 a gate to let forces into Prussia whenever occasion served. 
 Whence its arms are supposed to have been taken, being a 
 castle and gate half open. This city does not stand in the 
 same place where the old one did ; that having been seated 
 a mile westward from hence, where are now to be seen the 
 ruins of an ancient castle, and some other monuments that 
 have received great injury from time. However, it is at 
 present the fairest and best built of any town in Royal 
 Prussia ; the streets being much broader, and houses more 
 stately, than at Dantzick. It was very much beautified by 
 one of its burgo-masters, Henry Stowband, in the year 1609, 
 who founded a small university here, and endowed it with a 
 considerable revenue. He likewise built an hospital, with a 
 public library, wherein two of Cicero^s epistles are pre- 
 served, written upon tables of wax, (the greatest rarity that 
 I saw in all this kingdom,) and a townhouse erected in the 
 middle of the market-place. The inhabitants revolted from 
 the knights of the Teutonick order in the year 1454, and 
 put themselves under the protection of Poland. But this 
 city is for nothing more famous than the birth of that great 
 astronomer Nicolaus Copernicus, whose name, without any 
 other recommendation, would be sufficient to transmit it to 
 posterity. John Albert, king of Poland, died here in 1501. 
 It was taken by the Swedes in the year 1655, and regained 
 by the Poles in 1658. Then the Swedes possessed them- 
 selves of it again, and the Poles retook it by surprise in the 
 year 1665. 
 
 6. Marienburgh, built in the year 1310, as a place of re- 
 sidence for the master and knights of the Teutonick order, 
 as may yet be seen by the several stalls in the chapel of the 
 castle erected for them. It lies seated upon the river Nogat, 
 a branch of the Vistula, about six miles from Dantzick, and is
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxxiii 
 
 defended by strong walls and high towers, together with a 
 very large castle, wherein the better sort of prisoners are 
 kept in time of war. 
 
 Having mentioned the Teutonick order, it may not be 
 unacceptable to give you its origin, and to trace it down, 
 from its first settlement in this kingdom, to its expulsion 
 out of it. It was first founded to reward and encourage 
 great actions, and those particularly of the German nation, 
 whence it came to have the title of Teutonick. For when 
 the emperor Frederick Barbarossa had engaged in the cru- 
 sade for the recovery of the Holy Land, a great number of 
 German nobility and gentry joined his army as volunteers. 
 Of this crusade were several other princes of Austria and 
 Bavaria, Philip earl of Flanders, Plorant earl of Holland, 
 &c. After this emperor's death, the Germans, being before 
 Aeon, or Ptolemais, which they then besieged, chose for 
 their leaders Frederick duke of Suabia, second son to the 
 aforesaid emperor, and Henry duke of Brabant. Under 
 these generals they behaved themselves so well, both at the 
 taking of Aeon, Jerusalem, and other places of the Holy 
 Land, that Henry king of Jerusalem, the patriarch, and se- 
 veral other princes, thought themselves obliged to do some- 
 thing extraordinary in honour of the German nation. Here- 
 upon they immediately resolved to erect an order of knights 
 of that nation, under the protection of St. George, but after- 
 wards they changed that saint for the Virgin Mary, by 
 reason that she had an hospital already founded on mount 
 Zion at Jerusalem, for the relief of German pilgrims ; of the 
 manner of building which, I am here told, that, in the time 
 of the holy war, a wealthy gentleman of Germany, who 
 dwelt at Jerusalem, commiserating the condition of his 
 countrymen coming thither on devotion, and neither un- 
 derstanding the language of that place, nor knowing where 
 to lodge, received them hospitably into his house, and gave 
 them all manner of suitable entertainment. Afterwards ob- 
 taining leave of the patriarch, he erected a chapel for them, 
 and dedicated it to the Virgin Mary ; whence the knights 
 that were established there afterwards came to have the title 
 
 VOL. i. d
 
 xxxiv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 of eqwtcs Marlani. Other German gentlemen contributed 
 largely to the maintaining and increasing this charitable 
 work ; insomuch that in a short time these knights became 
 very numerous and wealthy, and gave themselves to military 
 employments, and acts of piety and charity. 
 
 In the year 1190, they elected their first great master, 
 Henry Walpot, and in the year following had their order 
 confirmed, upon the request of the emperor Henry VI. by 
 the bull of Pope Celestine III. under the title of Teutonick 
 or High-German knights of the hospital of St. Mary the 
 Virgin : vowing poverty, obedience, and chastity, and 
 obliging themselves to receive none but Germans into their 
 order. 
 
 After they had thus received confirmation from the papal 
 see, some rich citizens of Bremen and Lubeck joining with 
 them, and making large contributions, another hospital was 
 erected for them in the city of Ancon, or Ptolemais, in 
 Syria. But after that city, together with Jerusalem and all 
 the Holy Land, had been taken by the Saracens under the 
 command of Saladin, having been in possession of the Chris- 
 tians for more than eighty-seven years, one Hermannus, then 
 great master, with the remaining knights, removed into 
 Germany, on whom the emperor Frederick XI. and pope 
 Honorius III. (or, as some will have it, Conradus duke of 
 Masovia, in 1220,) in the year 1229, bestowed the province 
 of Prussia ; where, having conquered that nation, and re- 
 duced it from paganism to Christianity, they built the city 
 of Marienburgh, or Mary-town, and in the year 1340 fixed 
 the residence of their great masters there. 
 
 This country they enjoyed till about the year 1525, when 
 Albert marquis of Brandenburgh, the last great master of 
 this order in those parts, by a solemn renunciation, became 
 feudatory to king Sigismund of Poland, who raised Prussia to 
 a dukedom, and made this marquis first duke thereof. But 
 however, some of the knights, disliking this action, proceeded 
 to elect another great master, which was Walter de Cronen- 
 burgh : and forthwith leaving Prussia, took their residence 
 up in Germany, where they continue at this day, though
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxxv 
 
 in no great reputation, except that the younger sons of the 
 German princes are commonly admitted into their order. 
 
 Their statutes were composed after the model of those of 
 the knights Hospitallers and knights Templars, at this day 
 the knights of Malta ; but nevertheless, to distinguish them 
 from these orders, their habit was ordained to be a white 
 mantle, with a plain black cross on the breast. This cross 
 they were also to have upon white banners, as likewise upon 
 their shields in their coat of arms. They were moreover 
 enjoined to live conformable to the orders and rules of St. 
 Austin. Their first number was twenty-four lay brothers, 
 and as many priests, though they are since increased to 
 several hundreds. They both were allowed to wear armour 
 and swords, and might celebrate mass in that habit. None 
 of them shaved their beards, but by their order were obliged 
 to let them grow, and to sleep upon sacks of straw. But 
 however, this, with other mortifying injunctions, were soon 
 of no manner of force. 
 
 This order being established after the manner which I 
 have shewn before, all Christian princes endeavoured to 
 give them encouragement ; and among the rest, his holiness 
 (as the people of this side of the world call the pope) and 
 the emperor gave them particular proofs of their favour and 
 liberality. Philip king of France also, being willing to do 
 the like on his part, made them great presents, and more- 
 over granted their grand master a liberty to wear the fleur 
 de lis on the four extremities of their mantles or robes. 
 
 Their power and force in war will appear by the efforts 
 which Albert marquis of Brandenburgh, and their thirty- 
 fourth and last great master, there made to keep his footing 
 in Poland. He was nephew to Sigismund I. and elected in 
 the time of Maximilian the emperor and pope Julius. The 
 chapter of this order chose him, in hopes that, being so near 
 a kinsman, he might prevail upon his uncle to restore to them 
 what had been taken from them by the Poles. But this 
 great master was so far from answering their expectation, 
 that, having refused to swear allegiance to the king of Po- 
 land, he fortified all his towns for his defence, and gave
 
 xxxvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 occasion to a war to break out between him and his uncle in 
 the year 1519, whereupon some few places were taken and 
 lost on both sides. But in 1529, Wolfang duke of Scho- 
 nenburgh, general of the Teutonick army, which consisted 
 of about twenty thousand foot and eight thousand horse, 
 sat down before Dantzick, and from the bishop's hill (vul- 
 garly so called) threw away near four thousand bombs into 
 the town, to little or no purpose, while the besiegers were 
 very much incommoded by the cannon from the town ; for 
 a man durst scarce shew his head, but he had forty shot at 
 him. This so discouraged the besiegers, that the major part 
 of them soon discovered their inclinations to be gone, and 
 for that purpose began to mutiny against their officers. 
 Whilst they were thus wavering in their resolutions, and 
 scarce doing any duty but by compulsion, the Polish army 
 appeared, being twenty thousand horse, sent by the king 
 to raise the siege. It was now high time for the besiegers to 
 scamper ; which they immediately set about with such pre- 
 cipitation, that the Poles found it no difficult matter to 
 overtake them, and to kill and make prisoners great num- 
 bers of them. 
 
 After this, the king's army took in Dirschow, Stargardie, 
 and the strong castle of Choinicz, and proceeded in their 
 conquests with such vigour and diligence, that most of the 
 cities and castles of the order surrendered themselves. By 
 these means the Teutonick knights were totally expelled 
 Prussia; which their great master Albert perceiving, as 
 likewise that he was no longer able to contend with so pow- 
 erful a monarch as his Polish majesty, (though his prede- 
 cessors had formerly done it for many years, when they 
 were in a better condition than he was,) resolved to submit 
 himself and his order to his uncle's mercy ; which he not 
 long after did in the public market-place of Cracow. 
 
 A throne being erected for the king, much after the same 
 nature of that wherein he is wont to take the oaths and 
 homage of his subjects after his coronation, the marquis de- 
 livered up the ensigns of his order to the king, and swore 
 all manner of allegiance to him. In consideration of which,'
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxxvii 
 
 his majesty returned him the ensigns of Prussia, quartered 
 with the Polish, and at the same time created him duke of 
 that part of the country which from thenceforward has had 
 the name of Ducal Prussia, and continued all along in his 
 family to this day. 
 
 The Teutonick order being thus expelled Prussia, they 
 transferred their chapter to Marienthal, where they con- 
 tinued to choose masters as the vacancies happened ; he that 
 is the chief of that order now being the forty-fifth master, and 
 duke of Newburgh. The ceremony of creating one of these 
 knights is after this manner. The person that is to be in- 
 vested with that dignity is to be conducted by the great 
 master and knights, out of which three commissioners, who 
 have been to inspect the titles of honour, are to make their 
 report upon oath, that they have examined, and found his 
 honour to be unquestionable. After which, he is to be 
 sworn to chastity, poverty, and to go to the wars against the 
 infidels, whenever occasion shall require. When they give 
 him the white mantle with the black cross, which are the 
 ensigns of this order, they pronounce these words according 
 to custom : " We promise to give you, as long as you live, 
 " water, bread, and a habit of our order." 
 
 TheJTeutonick order at present consists of twelve pro- 
 vinces, which are Alsace and Burgundy for one, Coblentz, 
 Austria, and Etsch : these four still retain the name of pro- 
 vinces of the jurisdiction of Prussia, as the eight following 
 do that of Germany, being the provinces of Franconia, 
 Hesse, Bressen, Westphalia, Lorrain, Thuringen, Saxony, 
 and Utrecht ; although this last is now altogether under the 
 dominion of the Hollanders. Every one of these provinces 
 has its peculiar commanderies of the commendadors, of 
 which the provincial is chief. These commendadors com- 
 pose the chapter of the electors ; amongst whom the great 
 master has two voices, and a decisive one in case the numbers 
 are equal. This great master's place of residence is to be at 
 Mariendal in Franconia, where these assemblies are held. 
 
 Having carried you out of Poland into the heart of Ger- 
 many, and led you out of your way many leagues, give me 
 
 d3
 
 xxxviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 leave to put you into the road again, and to bring you back 
 to Dantzick, which is the last place I undertook the descrip- 
 tion of, and which I shall be the more particular in, on ac- 
 count of my longer stay there than in any other place. 
 
 Dantzick (in Latin Dantiscum, or Gedanum) is the largest, 
 strongest, and most wealthy city in all Royal Prussia, and is 
 situated in one of the three islands (of which Regal Prussia 
 consists) called by the Germans der Dantzicher Werder; 
 this der Werder implying properly so many pieces of solid 
 ground encompassed by fens and bogs. 
 
 By whom this city was first built, it remains as yet un- 
 determined. Becanus will have the Danes to have been the 
 founders of it, and from them to have been called Danes- 
 wick, i. e. Danes- town. But this derivation seems to have 
 too much Dutch in it, and to be drawn in favour of a 
 people that are not content with engrossing the trade of the 
 world, but its very towns too ; therefore it is more probable, 
 that to the word Dan, Cdan, or Gdan, was added the Scla- 
 vonian term Scke, (signifying a town,) which made it Dan- 
 sche, Cdanscke, or Gdanske, and which might very reason- 
 ably be supposed afterwards, for better pronunciation sake, 
 to be changed into Dantzig, or Dantzick. 
 
 The town itself is watered by the rivers Rodawn and 
 Motlaw, and divided by the former into two parts, the old 
 and the new : on the southern and western side, it is sur- 
 rounded by high mountains, and has been well fortified 
 against the incursions of the Swedes and others, ever since 
 the year 1656. It has a large and high wall, so broad, that 
 coaches may easily go round the ramparts ; and so large in 
 compass, that it is three hours 1 journey round, which I may 
 very well compute at six English miles. At the entrance of 
 the Rodawri, on the other side it, is a strong fort, wherein 
 there is commonly a garrison of a thousand men ; nor is it 
 possible that this city should be bombarded from the sea, 
 by reason of its distance from it ; but from the neighbour- 
 ing hills it may ; and therefore some works are raised there, 
 and always a certain number of soldiers, with store of can- 
 non and ammunition, placed in them for its greater security.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xxxix 
 
 It is also at present a very famous mart, and one of the 
 principal of the Hans towns, scarce inferior to Hamburgh, 
 being altogether governed by its own laws, though under 
 the protection of the crown of Poland, from which it has a 
 castellan appointed over it : half of the suburbs belong to 
 that crown, and the other half to the city ; for in some parts 
 the crown lands reach to the suburbs, but in others the city 
 lands go several miles together into the country. 
 
 There are twenty parishes in the city and suburbs. The 
 houses are generally of brick, and the streets most commonly 
 very wide, and well paved, though somewhat dirty in winter, 
 as most of the streets in Poland are. The chief part of the 
 city is called by the inhabitants Die recJite Stadt, and was 
 built by Conrad Wallenrodt, master of the Teutonick order, 
 about the year 1388. There are no gardens in the city, but 
 several very fine and large ones in the suburbs. 
 
 The inhabitants are for the most part Germans, and 
 computed to be upwards of two hundred thousand souls; 
 whereof the greatest part have adhered to the Ausburgh 
 Confession ever since the year 1525 ; and the Lutherans 
 alone are admitted to a share in the government : yet all 
 other sects are tolerated, and allowed a free exercise of 
 their religion. 
 
 The public buildings here are, first, the churches; whereof 
 there are two very famous, viz. St. Mary's and St. Peter's : 
 the former of which is by much the stateliest and most ex- 
 quisite fabric in all Prussia, being very high-roofed, and 
 having in it a most melodious and well wrought organ. Be- 
 sides it has forty-eight altars, three thousand seven hundred 
 and twenty-two windows, and a font, made at Antwerp, 
 which cost twenty-four thousand rixdollars, L e. five thou- 
 sand four hundred pounds of English money. 
 
 In the second place, the townhouse, where the magi- 
 strates sit for the despatch of public business, is a most 
 magnificent structure, with an exceeding high spire. It has 
 abundance of noble inscriptions in several rooms, into which 
 it is divided ; and the court of judicature surpasses any that 
 I ever yet saw, being built all with freestone, and curiously
 
 xl MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 adorned on the outside with embellishments of fretwork, &c. 
 as it is inwardly with original pictures and hieroglyphics by 
 the best masters. 
 
 Three large magazines of warlike stores, ammunition, and 
 provision are likewise kept in this city, capable of equipping 
 more than forty thousand men at few hours warning; and 
 a prodigious amassment of naval stores to fit out shipping. 
 
 But though there is no university, the professors of all 
 faculties reside here in a very noble college, which is en- 
 dowed with most academical privileges but that of giving 
 the degree of a doctor. The exchange for merchants 
 may likewise pass for a famous pile of building, if com- 
 pared to any other but ours in London, or the stadthouse at 
 Amsterdam : nor are the palace of St. Dominick or the 
 college of Jesuits here any ways inferior to many beautiful 
 edifices. 
 
 The jurisdiction of Dantzick extends to above forty miles 
 circumference, and it sends two deputies to the diet of 
 Poland. 
 
 The absolute government of it is in the hands of thirty 
 senators, elders, or magistrates ; whereof the greatest part 
 are persons of learning, though some few are merchants, 
 but of no other trade. None of the clergy can be of this ma- 
 gistracy, though any foreigners may; yet none of any other 
 religion but the Lutheran, except the Calvinist, whereof 
 there must be always four in the whole senate. 
 
 The senators, when once created, continue for life ; and 
 the first and chief of them are the four burgomasters, or, as 
 they call them, proconsuls; out of which a president is 
 chosen every year. Under these there are thirteen consuls, 
 who choose the aforesaid burgomasters out of their body, as 
 often as vacancies happen by death, Sic. They likewise 
 have the election of all other officers belonging as well to 
 the city as the suburbs. 
 
 There are twelve scabins or judges for all manner of pro- 
 cesses ; from whom there lies an appeal to the thirteen con- 
 suls and four burgomasters, and from thence to the court of 
 Poland. The thirtieth senator is their syndic or orator, who
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xli 
 
 is like a master of the ceremonies, to receive and compliment 
 any foreign ministers or agents : he takes place of all the 
 scabins, as the consuls and four burgomasters. 
 
 The king nominates every year, out of the consuls or 
 burgomasters, a burgrave, to represent his person in the se- 
 nate : and all sentences of death must be signed by him in 
 the king's name ; for nobody can be executed here without 
 such signing : and there is a very out of the way distinction 
 in those executions ; for natives must be always executed 
 before Arlus-house, or the townhouse, and foreigners near 
 one of the gates of the city, where the prison lies : all those 
 that are executed in the city are beheaded ; but ah 1 thieves 
 and robbers (the others 1 crimes being offences against the 
 state) are to be hanged about two miles out of town, at a 
 famous gallows supported by four pillars of brick. 
 
 To represent the grievances of the people, and to main- 
 tain their privileges, there are an hundred burghers chosen, 
 for inspecting the conduct of the senate. They have like- 
 wise a vote in electing the clergy, in conjunction with the 
 senate. Within this city and its jurisdiction there are no 
 bishops, but only a college of the clergy, who have no 
 power, except to examine such as are designed to be elected 
 priestsjby the senate and the centum viri; the manner of 
 whose election is this. 
 
 The candidate first makes his application to the clergy to 
 examine him ; which done, they give him a certificate, setting 
 forth that they think him capable, and allow him a liberty to 
 preach. After which, the people or congregation of some 
 parish present him to the senate and centum viri, desiring 
 he may be elected for their minister ; when, by plurality of 
 voices, he is elected accordingly, and thereupon sent back 
 to the college of the clergy to be ordained, which is per- 
 formed by imposition of hands, reading of prayers, and 
 some other ceremonies. 
 
 In this city also there are four Roman Catholic churches ; 
 whereof one is the king's chapel, and the rest are for 
 monks. There are also two for Calvinists, where the senate 
 has no power ,to nominate the clergy. I may here likewise 
 observe a particular custom relating to marriage ; which is,
 
 xlii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 that there is a Roman Catholic official, a priest, who by his 
 power can oblige any person to marry a woman that he has 
 but promised, or given any present to whatsoever, though 
 the party never meant any such thing as courtship for such 
 a contract ; which occasions a great deal of confusion and 
 disorder. 
 
 As for the king's power in the city ; he can save any 
 body's life that he pleases, though condemned to die by the 
 magistrates. To him half the customs of the port come : 
 and one mill brings him in every hour of the day and 
 night twenty-four gold ducats. This mill is moved by the 
 Itodawn, which runs through the city. It grinds such a 
 great quantity of corn all the year round, that its revenue 
 amounts to 4320/. sterling to the state and the king, besides 
 the profit arising to the proprietors : and they are obliged 
 to put the king's effigies on one side of their coin, though 
 they commonly have their own arms on the other ; and also 
 to treat his Polish majesty and his whole court for three 
 days, when he comes thither : but, however, he can bring 
 but a few of his guards into the city. They are likewise to 
 have a secretary always at the court of Poland. 
 
 In relation to the city privileges ; they c#n coin their own 
 money without the king's leave, choose their magistrates, 
 make their own laws, and determine absolutely in matters of 
 debt to the value of five hundred gilders ; but where the ac- 
 tion exceeds that sum, an appeal lies to the tribunal of Po- 
 land. Yet in such case the appellant is obliged to lay down a 
 hundred gilders in the townhouse before he can proceed : 
 and this is to deter people from making such appeals ; for 
 the Dantzickers do not much care that any of their money 
 should get into Poland, but where they cannot help it. 
 
 This city has always above two thousand soldiers in ser- 
 vice, and can easily maintain twenty thousand ; but in cases 
 of necessity has been known to have raised sixty thousand. 
 As for ships, they have none that they call men of war, but 
 abundance of merchantmen of three or four hundred tons 
 each, and thirty or forty guns apiece, which never trade so 
 far as the East or West Indies, but into the Straits, and all 
 the other parts of Europe.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xliii 
 
 It was taken from the Danes by Sabislaus, grandson to 
 Swentorohus, about the year 1186, and seized by the Poles 
 some short time after. The knights of the Teutonick order 
 made themselves masters of it in 1305, and walled it round 
 in 1314. Casimir III. king of Poland, surnamed the Great, 
 regained it in 1454, and granted very great privileges to the 
 citizens, who afterwards declaring for the Ausburgh Con- 
 fession, sided with Maximilian of Austria against king Ste- 
 phen Bathori : insomuch that the latter proscribed, and even 
 besieged them in 1577. But however, by the mediation of 
 other princes, they were restored to their religion and li- 
 berties in 1597. 
 
 In 1656, they vigorously repulsed the Swedes, and ad- 
 hered to the interest of John Casimir, king of Poland ; and 
 at present they make one of the members of that state, 
 having been admitted to a suffrage in the election of the 
 Polish monarchs in the year 1632. 
 
 Having mentioned king Stephen Bathori just before, I 
 cannot omit an elogy which I found in an ancient manuscript 
 in the college of the clergy's library here, relating to that 
 prince. It runs thus : 
 
 In templo plusquatn sacerdos. 
 
 In republica plusquam rex. 
 
 In sententia dicenda plusquam .senator. 
 
 In judicio plusquam jurisconsultus. 
 
 In exercitu plusquam imperator. 
 
 In acie plusquam miles. 
 
 In adversis perferendis, iujuriisque condonandis, plusquam vir. 
 
 In publica libertate tuenda plusquam civis. 
 
 In amicitia colenda plusquam amicus. 
 
 In convictu plusquam familiaris. 
 
 In venatione ferisque domandis, plusquam leo. 
 
 In tota reliqua vita plusquam philosophus. 
 
 Thus much concerning the description of the places in 
 and about this ancient and renowned kingdom : I shall in 
 the next place make good my word in relation to other par- 
 ticulars concerning their religion, customs, and manners. 
 
 Besides the Lutherans and Calvinists, which abound 
 chiefly in Regal Prussia, there are many other religions 
 tolerated in this kingdom, such as the Armenians, Jews,
 
 xliv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 and Tartars put in practice, who all enjoy their different 
 persuasions without molestation, though the national church 
 is entirely after the mode of the Roman. As for the Ar- 
 menians, they inhabit chiefly in certain towns of Prussia and 
 Podolia, and have their peculiar prelates, abbots, and priests. 
 Their service is exercised in their own language. These, as 
 in other countries, acknowledge the supremacy of the see of 
 Rome, but differ from it in worship. The Jews are every- 
 where to be found in Poland, and enjoy their religion and 
 privileges without interruption, only they are restrained 
 from trading within twelve miles of Warsaw, by the consti- 
 tutions. Their number is so great, that it is accounted to 
 amount to two millions ; and they are so privileged, that all 
 this vast body pays not above one hundred and twenty 
 thousand florins a year to the state, which amounts to no 
 more than twenty thousand dollars. In the great duchy of 
 Lithuania, there are above thirty thousand Tartars, with 
 liberty of the Turkish religion. They have been there more 
 than six hundred years; and, for the continuance of their 
 privileges, they are obliged to send twelve hundred men 
 yearly to the wars against the Turks and Tartars. There are 
 likewise, as I am told, a great many idolaters on the frontiers 
 of this kingdom, who still retain their ancient superstitions, 
 whereof one is, that when any one dies, and though it be a 
 year afterwards another dies likewise, they presently dig up 
 the first body, and cut off its head, thereby to prevent, as 
 they say, the death of any more of their family. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding Poland admits of all these religions, 
 the national churchmen, which are Roman Catholics, are so 
 bigoted to their own persuasion, that they will admit of 
 none into their senate, diet, or courts of judicature, (except 
 in those of Prussia,) that hold not the same religious tenets. 
 Also bishops always preside in the assembly of the states, 
 that nothing may be transacted there in prejudice of that 
 faith. The inferior clergy likewise, selected out of the several 
 colleges and chapters of the kingdom, are appointed to have 
 seats in the tribunals, and other courts of justice, for the 
 same reason. In like manner, the great officers of the crown
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xlr 
 
 are very frequently bishops ; and the chief secretary of the 
 whole kingdom has always been an ecclesiastic. 
 
 Here are sixteen ecclesiastical, and one hundred and 
 twenty-eight lay senators. The first are either archbishops 
 or bishops, and are the chief members of the senate, of 
 which the archbishop of Gnesna is chief. He is primate of 
 the kingdom, a title given him by the council of Constance, 
 and moreover styles himself the pope's legate born, by a 
 grant of the council of Lateran. All ecclesiastical affairs 
 that have been determined in the archbishop of Leopol's, or 
 any of the other bishops court, may be reversed or eon- 
 firmed by an appeal to him ; and his power and authority is 
 so exceeding great, it being next to the king's, that it is 
 death to draw a sword in his presence, or to quarrel in any 
 manner whatsoever before him. When he goes to the king 
 or the diet, there is always a golden cross carried before 
 him ; and when he sits, his chaplain holds it behind his 
 chair. He has his marshal, who is a castellan, and senator of 
 the kingdom. This person on horseback carries a golden 
 batoon before his coach, but salutes none with it, except the 
 king, when the archbishop and his majesty happen to meet. 
 This marshal has likewise the honour to carry a staff of the 
 same nature before the king, when the other marshals are 
 absent. When the archbishop comes to wait on the king, 
 the great chamberlain, or some other great officer, always 
 receives him at the stairs, and the king comes afterwards 
 out of his chamber, to meet him in the antechamber. He 
 never pays any visits out of duty, but to the pope's nuncio, 
 and to him only but once ; neither does he pay that compli- 
 ment to the ambassadors of crowned heads, though they 
 visit him first. 
 
 After the king's death, he is the supreme regent of the 
 kingdom till a new one is chosen ; during which time, he 
 may coin money in his own name ; a privilege granted him 
 by Boleslaus the Chaste, but which, nevertheless, has not 
 been practised, no money having as yet been seen of any 
 one of the primates' coining. The revenues also of the 
 crown belong to him in the interregnum ; he convenes the
 
 xlvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 diet, and dissolves it at pleasure ; and in case there happens 
 any thing extraordinary, the government assigns him several 
 senators for his assistance. In short, he is tantum non rex; 
 and he alone can proclaim the king, when elected, and 
 crown him afterwards ; which is so very considerable, that 
 he is looked upon by the ambassadors and envoys of the 
 candidates, as the only person upon whom the success of 
 their negotiations depend ; and therefore all of them do their 
 utmost to make him their friend. 
 
 The reason why the republic intrusts this great authority 
 to a clergyman is, lest, if it should devolve upon a secular 
 senator, he might make use of it to advance himself to the 
 throne. 
 
 These senators' office is to serve faithfully the king and 
 republic with their advice, to administer justice, by commis- 
 sion or otherwise, at home ; and, with consent of the diet, 
 to exercise foreign ministry abroad : and they value them- 
 selves for their dignities so highly, that they despise almost 
 all other titles whatsoever. Therefore when Sigismund I. 
 went, as has been before related, to Vienna, and his imperial 
 majesty offered the title of prince of the empire to the seve- 
 ral senators that came along with him, they absolutely re- 
 fused them ; giving for reason, " that being born gentlemen 
 " of Poland, and thereby having a right to treat either of 
 " peace or war with their king, they believed it an injury to 
 " their dignity to have a prince of the empire thought their 
 " superior. 1 ' 
 
 The regular clergy in Poland are generally more esteemed 
 than the secular; for they can perform all the offices of 
 parish priests, without having permission from the bishops ; 
 and friars mendicant are allowed to enter the most private 
 part of any house, without so much as knocking at the door. 
 All religious orders are likewise to be seen in this kingdom, 
 but Carthusians and Minims. 
 
 Those regular clergy are generally very rich, but not less 
 dissolute and immodest ; for they frequently go into the 
 cellars to drink, those being the tippling places in this 
 country; and sometimes you shall see many of them so
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. 
 
 drunk in the streets, that they are scarce able to stand or go ; 
 and this, without either their superiors or the people taking 
 notice of them. 
 
 On fast days, these religious persons, and all others of 
 the Poles, abstain from milk, eggs, flesh, and boiled fish, at 
 nights only : for provided they keep to these rules at that 
 time, they may eat and drink what they please all the day ; 
 only Fridays and Saturdays they forbear butter, cheese, 
 milk, and eggs, all the day long. Nor can they be inclined 
 to eat butter or cheese on fast days, though they have per- 
 mission from the church ; for when the present archbishop 
 of Gnesna obtained them that liberty from the see of Rome, 
 they absolutely refused it, saying, " that his holiness the 
 " pope was an heretic.'"'' This rigid custom they have ob- 
 served ever since one of those Roman pontiffs enjoined 
 them to fast for a hundred years together for some enormous 
 crime ; and which it may be they do not yet think sufficiently 
 expiated. They also are so obstinate in their abstaining from 
 flesh, that they will not eat any, notwithstanding they are 
 sick, and advised thereunto by their doctors, and permitted 
 by their priests. 
 
 As for, the secular inferior clergy, they are either collegi- 
 ate or parochial ; and both are much after the same nature 
 as with us. The canons are never almost present at the 
 office ; for they give the poor scholars to the value of two- 
 pence of our money per diem, to say their hours for them in 
 the choir. And the parsons generally neglect their cures, by 
 leaving most of their duty to the monks, or vicars, or curates. 
 They also sing part of the service in the Polish language, 
 and that especially in the parish churches at high mass. 
 
 The rosary is also repeated in the Dominican's chapels, in 
 which the men are seated, and join in the repetition on one 
 side, and the women on the other ; the former alone singing 
 the Ave Maria, and the latter the Sancta Maria. 
 
 Plurality of benefices is here tolerated ; for there are some 
 of these secular clergy who have not only rights to canon- 
 ships, but also two or more parsonages. But there are none 
 that take any care to perform the duties of their function ;
 
 xlviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 the bishops themselves being so careless of the episcopal 
 charge, that they neglect correcting the inferior clergy when 
 they do amiss. 
 
 At divine service the Poles seem always very devout, and 
 bestow considerable gifts upon their churches ; but they are 
 neither liberal to the poor, nor careful of sick necessitous 
 persons. They pray always aloud in the church, and at the 
 elevation of the host at mass, they cuff themselves, and 
 knock their heads against the pavement or the bench 
 whereon they sit, that it commonly makes a great noise, and 
 may be heard at a considerable distance. 
 
 Their ecclesiastical courts, as in other nations, are alto- 
 gether in the hands of the bishops, who have each their 
 chancellor, register, &c. from whom appeals may be made 
 to the two archbishops, and even from the archbishop of 
 Leopol to the archbishop of Gnesna. Nevertheless, from 
 him appeals lie to the see of Rome. These judge according 
 to the canons of the church ; and the civil magistrates are 
 obliged to be assisting to them in the execution of their 
 sentences, as often as they shall be so required. 
 
 To the ecclesiastical courts belongs the court of nunci- 
 ature, held by the pope's nuncio, for that purpose always 
 residing in Poland. However, before he can have any ju- 
 risdiction, he must have presented the king and the princi- 
 pal ministers of state with the apostolic brief of his nunci- 
 ature. 
 
 The civil jurisdiction is divided among diverse sorts of 
 judges, and belongs to the commonalty as well as gentry. 
 Some of these determine causes exempt from appeals, and 
 others cannot. 
 
 Those from whom there lies no appeal are the three high 
 tribunals instituted by king Stephen Bathori, the judges 
 whereof are all gentry. Two of these tribunals are for the 
 kingdom, and one for the great duchy of Lithuania ; and 
 all of them consists of fixed numbers to be judges, both ec- 
 clesiastical and civil, chosen out of every palatinate; the 
 former once in four years, and the latter once in two. These 
 pronounce judgment by plurality of voices; but where
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xlix 
 
 matters are purely ecclesiastical, there ought to be as many 
 of the clergy as the laity. The causes here are heard in or- 
 der ; for three days are allowed to enter all that come, and 
 whatsoever are not booked in that time cannot be adjudged 
 that session. So that a man who has a trial in these courts 
 may be said to have all the nation for his judges, deputies 
 both spiritual and temporal being sent thither for that end 
 from all parts of the kingdom. 
 
 There is also a board of green cloth to determine affairs 
 relating to the king^s household, (as with us,) two courts of 
 exchequer, and likewise courts of the gentry and common- 
 alty in every palatinate, which are neither exempt from ap- 
 peals, nor by any means to have so much as one of the cler- 
 gy among their judges, and determine in disputes about the 
 limits of land, or in criminal cases. 
 
 The immediate appeal from these courts is to the vice- 
 chamberlain of the palatinate, who, either by himself or 
 his deputy, the chamberlain of that district, restores all to 
 persons illegally dispossessed, and ascertains all bounds and 
 limits of land. This is in a manner the sphere of his whole 
 j urisdiction. But where there is any contest between the king 
 and any of the gentry in this kind, then, at their request, 
 commissioners are appointed out of the senate, to inspect the 
 matter of the controversy, and to do justice therein. Like- 
 wise when a difference arises betweeh the king and a clergy- 
 man, commissioners are ordered; but there the bishop of 
 the diocese claims the nomination of one or more of them ; 
 and when any of the courts of land-judicature die, the king 
 cannot name others, till the district to which they belonged 
 have chosen four out of the housekeepers ; but then he may 
 pitch upon one for each election. 
 
 The other courts for the gentry are those that take cog- 
 nizance of criminal cases ; whereof there is only one in every 
 starostaship, where the starosta himself, or his lieutenant, ad- 
 ministers justice in his castle, or some other public place, at 
 least every six weeks. He likewise determines in civil eauses 
 between such as have no lands, and such foreigners as come 
 to trade here, and is to cause process to be served in crimi- 
 
 VOL. i. e
 
 1 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 nal cases a fornight, and in civil, a week before the court 
 sits. 
 
 He is also the executive minister of all sentences pro- 
 nounced, and likewise the sole conservator of the peace 
 within his territories, being obliged, by himself or his offi- 
 cers, like our high sheriffs, to see all public executions per- 
 formed. 
 
 As to the courts of commonalty, they are either held in 
 cities or villages. In cities, justice is administered by the 
 scabins, (officers belonging to the king,) the magistracy, or 
 judge advocate. The scabins have cognizance of all capital 
 offences and criminal matters; the magistracy, of all civil 
 cases, to which likewise the gentry are subject; and the 
 judge advocate, of offences committed by the soldiery. Civil 
 matters of small moment are determined solely by the go- 
 vernor of the city ; but from him there lies an appeal to the 
 townhall or magistracy, and thence to the king. 
 
 In villages, the commonalty are subject to scabins, and to 
 scultets, or peculiar lords ; from which last there is no ap- 
 peal. Here justice is almost arbitrary, except in criminal 
 cases ; the scultets being hereditary judges, and not to be 
 dispossessed of their offices, but by death, and forfeiture of 
 life by high treason, &c. 
 
 The officers and magistrates of the plebeian courts are 
 some named by their peculiar lords, and some elected by 
 their fellow citizens, except in Cracow only, where the pa- 
 latine has a right of choosing the magistrates, though he has 
 not the same power to displace them after they are once 
 chosen; they being also to continue their offices for life, 
 unless forfeited by infamy and inability, as aforesaid. 
 
 The profits of all offices in any of these courts are but 
 very small, and uncertain ; the Poles esteeming the honour 
 of enjoying them sufficient recompence. Nevertheless, they 
 have all salaries and perquisites, howsoever inconsiderable. 
 
 The military jurisdiction of Poland is altogether in the 
 hands of the king or his generals, although the palatines 
 and castellans, who generally accompany his majesty in the 
 wars, retain their authority over their respective inferiors,
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. li 
 
 which is very despotical, (and like the chiefs over their vas- 
 sals in Scotland ;) but where those are refractory, a court- 
 martial adjusts the difference. 
 
 As for the laws of Poland, it is on all hands agreed, that 
 it had none till the time of Casimir the Great, and then 
 but very few made by him : although it is certain, that the 
 Poles had embraced Christianity long before, and were well 
 enough versed in human learning ; yet was there never any 
 law or statute of any prince committed to writing, but the 
 people were contented to be governed by the customs and 
 manners of their ancestors, handed down to them from fa- 
 ther to son. Casimir III. therefore, (called the Great from 
 his prudent administration,) observing the disadvantages his 
 kingdom laboured under by the Germans, who then fre- 
 quently came into Poland on account of trade, received the 
 Saxon laws, (now called Magdeburg laws, from the city 
 whence they were taken,) by which Poland is at this day 
 principally governed ; although the gentry have many pe- 
 culiar customs, and some statutes which have been since 
 made; and which, in the time of Sigismundus Augustus, 
 being compiled into one volume by learned men, were en- 
 titled, The Statutes of the Kingdom; and since (some 
 having -been approved and augmented, and others changed 
 and altered in several diets) have obtained the name of Con- 
 stitutions of Poland; to which, nevertheless, all that king- 
 dom is not subject, Lithuania and Volhinia observing its 
 own laws. Prussia also, both Regal and Ducal, has a mu- 
 nicipal law of its own, commonly styled, the law of Culm; 
 from which, notwithstanding, three cities are exempt, "viz. 
 Elbing, Bransberg, and Fraumberg, all which make use of 
 the laws of Lansberg. 
 
 The punishments in Poland are various, and differ only 
 according to the quality of the crimes, and not of persons 
 offending ; for a thief is to be hanged, of what degree soever 
 he be, and capital offenders, of all other kinds and qualities, 
 are to be beheaded, (as has been observed in the description 
 of Dantzick,) except in cases of the most flagrant and no- 
 torious villainies, when the criminal is commonly broken
 
 lii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 upon the wheel, or else tortured by cutting off two thongs 
 or long pieces out of the skin of his back. A nobleman is 
 sometimes punished by forfeiting half his estate to the king, 
 and the rest to an informer, and sometimes by imprisonment 
 only. 
 
 Masters also have a power of chastising their servants; 
 which they do after this manner : If the servant they are 
 about to punish be a Polish gentleman, then they make 
 him lie down on his belly on a carpet spread on the ground, 
 or upon a stool, when another gentleman servant lays him on 
 unmercifully upon the back with a rope or stick, giving him 
 as many blows or lashes, as the master, who is always pre- 
 sent, orders. After which, he that is beaten embraces the 
 knees of him that has commanded him to be beat, and sa- 
 lutes him with the goodnatured title of benefactor. Which 
 discipline seems a little too severe, but, however, is neces- 
 sary from the temper of these people. The servants of 
 vulgar extraction are likewise punished after the same man- 
 ner, only with this difference, that they have no carpet 
 spread under them. Some of the former think it an honour 
 to be so thrashed ; which honour they always bestow libe- 
 rally, as often as they deserve it. 
 
 Nor is this custom among the Poles, of punishing their 
 gentlemen servants so rigorously, much to be wondered at, 
 if it be considered that they may serve in the meanest of- 
 fices, without derogating from the nobility of their birth, or 
 incapacitating themselves for the highest preferments. For, 
 says Hauteville, one of their most celebrated historians, " I 
 " have known some who, from being footmen to great lords, 
 " and drummers in a troop of dragoons, have been advanced 
 " to the dignity of senators ;"" there being nothing that de- 
 bases nobility in this country, but a handicraft or mechanic 
 employment. 
 
 I should here bestow some time on the manner of choosing 
 their diet, and its session, for the promulgation of the laws 
 just now spoken of; but the several particulars and customs 
 observed therein requiring more time than the compass of a 
 letter will allow of, and a writer better versed than myself
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. liii 
 
 in the nature of constitutions, whereinto I have had but an 
 imperfect insight; I shall say little more, than that the 
 grand diet or parliament of Poland is an assembly of the 
 king, senators, and nuncios, or deputies of every province, 
 met together in any city or town of Poland or Lithuania, 
 in order to deliberate upon state affairs, and the means to 
 secure and preserve the kingdom, both in times of peace or 
 war. 
 
 It is the king, or, during an interregnum, the primate, 
 who has the sole power of convening them, as likewise to 
 appoint the place where they shall sit ; and by the consti- 
 tutions of the kingdom, the king, as head of the republic, is 
 obliged to call a diet every third year ; and of every three 
 successively, two are held in Poland most commonly, and 
 the third in Lithuania, in the city of Grodno, in the palati- 
 nate of Troki, twenty leagues from Vilna, capital of that 
 great duchy; so that every ninth year, the king, with all 
 the senators and deputies of the kingdom, goes into Lithu- 
 ania; and every third, the senators and deputies of Lithu- 
 ania come into Poland. The reason of the diet's being held 
 thus in Lithuania, proceeds from the inhabitants of that 
 duchy's complaint, that it was very inconvenient for them to 
 come se far as Poland, Avithout having it in their turn to 
 make themselves compensation, by enriching their country 
 also by the presence of his majesty and the estates of the 
 kingdom. 
 
 When the king is pleased to give out summons for this 
 general meeting, he is, by the constitution in the year 1613, 
 to issue forth circular letters six weeks before the time be 
 appointed for its session, to all the palatines of the pro- 
 vinces, acquainting them with his design, together with the 
 time he intends it shall meet at. He sends them likewise a 
 list of all the affairs and articles which are to be treated of 
 in that diet: whereupon every palatine, or his deputy, in 
 his own respective government, forthwith despatches notice 
 to all the castellans, starostas, and other gentry, to meet to- 
 gether at a certain time, in order to deliberate upon the 
 articles and affairs proposed in the king's letters, as also to 
 
 e3
 
 liv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 choose a nuncio, or deputy, to represent their intentions in 
 the great diet. These letters are proclaimed by a herald at 
 arms, and afterwards posted upon all the town gates and 
 church doors ; and the assemblies in the provinces, prepara- 
 tory to this general meeting of the states, are termed by 
 them comitiola, or little diets. Though, in cases of ex- 
 tremity, six weeks notice need not be given, as appears by 
 the constitutions of the year 1638. 
 
 The qualification for voting in these little diets is, that 
 all sorts of gentlemen, both rich and poor, provided they 
 have but three acres of land in their possession, which must 
 be worth at least eight crowns sterling a year, (like our 
 freeholders in the country,) have a right to come thither, 
 where they have all equal authority and votes, none being 
 suffered to be present there in that capacity, but who is 
 well descended. But what is more particular, the electors 
 must be unanimous here, or the choice is invalid ; for I am 
 informed, it has lain in the power of one of these diminutive 
 gentry to hinder a person from being chosen chairman of 
 one of these petty sessions, till the candidate had given him 
 a Polish pair of boots, for he was before almost barefooted ; 
 after which he came in, and consented to the election. 
 
 Not but at these little diets the poorer sort of gentry for 
 the most part accord with their seignior, and generally ap- 
 prove of what he says, without knowing sometime what 
 the matter in hand is : an example whereof, Hauteville says, 
 happened in his time at one of these assemblies in the pro- 
 vince of Masovia, where some affairs of the province being 
 in debate, and one of the gentry declaring against them, his 
 party or mob, not knowing.what the business was, cried out 
 like madmen, " that such a proposal should not pass." 
 Whereupon, a witty fellow, observing their senseless rage, 
 started up, and cried, " Brethren, you are fools to oppose 
 " this affair ; for the question is only to abate the price of 
 " wheat and aqua vitas: 1 ' whereat they immediately con- 
 sented to and approved of the matter, and said, that " their 
 " seignior was a rogue that had betrayed them ;" and 
 moreover threatened him with their sabres.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Iv 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding every gentleman-freeholder can 
 vote for whom he pleases, the election always falls upon 
 some rich nobleman, who can treat high, and make a figure 
 suitable to this honourable charge. Most commonly they 
 choose two or three deputies for every, palatinate ; one of 
 which is always an understanding man, and the rest young 
 noblemen, who are sent up to the grand diet for honour's 
 sake, and that they may be trained up betimes in the service 
 of their country. 
 
 When the deputies are chosen, they receive full instruc- 
 tions from the gentry of their province, of what they are to 
 agree to, and dissent from, in the general diet; and when 
 once they are intrusted with these instructions, they dare 
 not for their lives transgress them ; so that if but one de- 
 puty has orders contrary to the rest, it lies in his single 
 power to break all their measures. 
 
 The number of all these nuncios amounts commonly to 
 one hundred and seventy-four, excluding those of Prussia, 
 which are uncertain, and which are sometimes seventy of 
 themselves ; and they cannot be chosen senators, being for 
 the most part elected out of the common magistrates, ex- 
 cepting the judges of the high tribunals, assessors, collec- 
 tors o~the revenue, &c. Furthermore it is to be observed, 
 that they have certain salaries assigned them by the consti- 
 tutions in the year 1540. 
 
 When all the deputies of the provinces are assembled at 
 the place appointed for the grand diet, they divide them- 
 selves into three nations, viz. the deputies of High and Low 
 Poland, and Lithuania. Out of these three, they next pro- 
 ceed to the choice of a great mareschal, or speaker, who is 
 the first time chosen out of the deputies of High Poland ; 
 the second, out of the deputies of Low Poland ; and at the 
 third diet, out of Lithuania ; and they often spend several 
 days in bloody contests, before they can agree about an 
 election. Nay, it happens sometimes that they cannot agree 
 at all ; and that the senators and deputies, who make great 
 preparations to appear in the utmost pomp and grandeur, 
 (whereof some come above three hundred miles from their 
 
 e 4
 
 Ivi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 respective homes,) are forced to return back again, for want 
 of harmony among themselves in the choice of a mareschal, 
 who, if he designs to get his election, must treat the gentry 
 all the while, otherwise he would have few or no votes ; it 
 being their custom to prolong the election, that they may 
 live the longer at the candidate's charge. 
 
 The cause of this great stickling is, that the dignity of 
 this mareschal is not only honourable, but exceeding bene- 
 ficial ; which occasions several noblemen among the deputies 
 to raise cabals and intrigues to secure it to themselves. He 
 has likewise a very great extent of authority, and can, by his 
 eloquent and subtle speeches, turn affairs to what side al- 
 most he pleases ; which is the reason that he is often bribed, 
 either by the king, or foreign princes, or some great men of 
 the kingdom. 
 
 When the mareschal or speaker is elected, he, with all 
 the deputies of the provinces, goes to kiss the king's hand 
 in the diet chamber, where his majesty sits on a throne, 
 with his chief officers of state about him, all standing. 
 Then the chancellor proposes all the points to be debated 
 in the diet, and desires the senators and the nobility to take 
 them into consideration ; which being done, the king im- 
 mediately leaves them, lest his presence might be an awe 
 upon them ; and then the senators retiring into their apart- 
 ments by themselves, and the nuncios into theirs, they forth- 
 with set about deliberating on the articles proposed. 
 
 Not that I can here pass by unremarked a pleasant re- 
 flection of Hauteville, whom I am obliged to consult more 
 than once, to enable me to go through with my under- 
 taking. That historian, in his account of Poland, says, that 
 the Poles employ more time in drinking and feasting, than 
 in debating matters of state ; for they never think of that 
 work, till they begin to want money to buy Hungarian wine 
 with. 
 
 After the chancellor has thus proposed to the diet, in the 
 king's name, all the articles they are to go upon, the mares- 
 chal of the nuncios likewise, on the part of the deputies, 
 presents to the king what they desire of his majesty ; which
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ivii 
 
 is, first, to make void all intrenchments upon the state or 
 the people ; and secondly, to bestow all vacant offices upon 
 persons of worth and merit. 
 
 The manner of proceeding in the nuncios' house is, that 
 nobody offers his opinion there, till leave for so doing is 
 asked of the mareschal, who alone introduces all messengers 
 from the king, senators, army, or foreign princes, and an- 
 swers them all in the name of the house : if any differences 
 also arise among the nuncios, or other tumults occasioned 
 by the spectators, he causes silence immediately, by striking 
 his staff against the ground. 
 
 The two bodies being thus separated, there are never- 
 theless frequent intercourses between them, as are between 
 our two most honourable houses of parliament; and the 
 nuncios have the same power as the commons are invested 
 with in England, of impeaching all magistrates and officers 
 in high stations for corrupt practices, and put the king in 
 mind, as often as they think fit, of his coronation oath. 
 Moreover, the nuncios' power and authority appears the 
 greater, in that no constitution or law is of any validity or 
 force, that was not first begun in their house. Nay, their 
 mareschal is to make the first motion for all laws ; and when 
 concluded upon, it is his office only to read them before the 
 senate. For this reason, about nine years ago, in the year 
 1668, the mareschal protested against a certain law, because 
 it was first concerted in the senate. 
 
 To confirm this authority, and for the further security of 
 the nuncios, Sigismund I. in the year 1510, ordained that it 
 should be high treason to injure any member of the diet, 
 though he afterwards, in the year 1530, restrained this law 
 to the royal person ; but which, notwithstanding, John Casi- 
 mir in some measure renewed in the year 1640. 
 
 As to their further privileges, if one of these nuncios 
 commits any crime whatsoever, he is to be tried by his fel- 
 low members ; which custom is in force a month before, and 
 lasts as long after the breaking up of the diet. 
 
 Nor, whilst they are thus providing for the public good in 
 their house, does the king and senate pass their time idly in
 
 Iviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 theirs; for he, together with the senators, tries criminal 
 causes for a while, and employs himself upon several other 
 matters set apart for certain days, until the lower house 
 brings up bills to be debated. 
 
 Near the conclusion of the diet, and before the senators 
 and nuncios are joined, the mareschal of the lower house, in 
 a set speech, gives thanks to the deputies for the honour 
 and favour they have conferred upon him, and is answered 
 by one of the nuncios in the name of the rest, who returns 
 him their acknowledgments for the faithful execution of his 
 office. 
 
 To establish a law or constitution in the diet, is for the 
 deputies first to propose it by their mareschal, and then the 
 king and senate are to approve of it. But however, before 
 it can have any force, it must be reviewed by the great ma- 
 reschal and two deputies, or by three senators and six de- 
 puties. Having been thus reviewed, it is read out in the 
 diet by the nuncio mareschal; after which the chancellor 
 demands with a low voice, if the king, senate, and depu- 
 ties consent to apply the seal to it ; which being an- 
 swered in the affirmative, it is presently sealed and enrolled 
 among the acts in the registry of Warsaw ; and this by the 
 care of the deputies 1 mareschal, who is to see it done soon 
 after the conclusion of the session. After this, one of the 
 king^s secretaries is to get it printed and dispersed among 
 the several little diets and tribunals all over the kingdom. 
 
 By the constitution of the kingdom, the diet ought never 
 to sit above six weeks ; and the gentry are so very exact in 
 observing this privilege, that as soon as that time is expired, 
 they send their mareschal to take leave of the king in their 
 name, and to acquaint him, that they intend to wait on him 
 and kiss his hand ; and they are so obstinately bent upon 
 abiding by this custom, that though the urgencies of state 
 require never so short a continuance of the diet after the 
 time prescribed, yet they always vigorously oppose it, as 
 they did in the year 1649, when the Tartars and Cossacks 
 had almost overrun the kingdom. 
 
 The reason, it is to be presumed, why the members of
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. lix 
 
 the diet are so punctual in observing this constitution above 
 any other is, because by that period of time their money is 
 generally exhausted, and the provisions, which they bring in 
 wagons from home, as beer, wine, meat, fowl, &c. are con- 
 sumed by the great train of guards and other domestics, 
 which they have -,vith them. Besides, though no other per- 
 son but the king, senate, and nuncios, can have any vote in 
 the diet, vast numbers of other people every session flock 
 thither ; and most commonly foreign princes choose then to 
 send their ambassadors with large retinues, according to the 
 interest they have to support in the diet. At this time also 
 the greatest part of the nobility, that have wherewithal to 
 appear in any sort of grandeur, meet here, together with 
 their wives and children, though they have no other busi- 
 ness than to see and be seen. It is then their sons gel 
 acquainted with others of the young gentry, and often are 
 married to some of the young ladies, that come in like man- 
 ner to be observed, and to get husbands. In a word, the 
 diet is a kind of general rendezvous of all the people of 
 quality in the kingdom, as well men and women as chil- 
 dren ; so that what city soever the diet sits in, there are 
 always forty thousand, and sometimes fifty thousand persons 
 more than its wonted inhabitants. 
 
 At this time likewise there is always such a crowd of sol- 
 diers, heydukes, and footmen in the streets, that it is not 
 safe to be abroad in the night, for fear of being robbed or 
 stripped naked, as it happens very often: for the Polish 
 gentry give so very short allowance to their guards and 
 servants, (a dragoon having but fifteen pence of our money 
 per week to maintain his horse and himself,) that they must 
 be forced to rob, and be otherwise very industrious, to live. 
 
 Every member of the diet, after having obtained leave of 
 the marshal, who can only stop their mouths, has a right to 
 speak and harangue there as long as he pleases ; nay, can 
 say what he will; for they often abuse one another, and 
 affront their king to his face, branding him with the infamous 
 titles of " perjured, unjust," &c. They very often likewise 
 threaten both him and his children, upon the least grounds
 
 Ix MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 of complaint. The occasion of this generally is, that they 
 come drunk into the diet, and consequently talk only, like 
 our quakers, as the spirit moves, either good or bad. Nay, 
 you shall have some of these fuddle-caps talk nonsense for 
 two or three hours together, trespassing on the patience of 
 the more sober sort, by a railing, carping, injurious, and ill- 
 digested discourse, without any one's ever daring to inter- 
 rupt them, though they spin it out never so long ; for if the 
 marshal himself should then presume to bid them hold their 
 tongues, they would infallibly dissolve the diet, by protest- 
 ing against the proceedings thereof: so that the most pru- 
 dent way is always to hear them out, and to shew no dislike 
 to the impertinent speeches they make. 
 
 Hereupon there is nobody but sees the unhappy state of 
 the government of Poland ; that their constitutions and 
 privileges are most pernicious ; and that the unlimited and 
 absolute liberty of each member makes all the republic 
 slaves to the whimsy or factious obstinacy of one particular 
 man. For can there be any thing more unreasonable, than, 
 after the senators and deputies have come from most remote 
 provinces with excessive expense to the diet, and laboured 
 jointly with their sovereign to conclude matters for the com- 
 mon interest of the nation, it should be in the power of one 
 disaffected or corrupted person, without giving any further 
 reason than his own pleasure, to annul the proceedings of 
 the rest, and to dissolve the diet, at a juncture especially, 
 when there is the greatest necessity for their concurrence ? 
 
 Thus, Sir, you may perceive that affairs of the greatest 
 consequence depend not only on the prudent deliberations 
 of sober men, but also on the capricious humours of the 
 senseless and depraved ; which excessive liberty of every 
 private man shews, that both the nation and the diet have 
 none at all. 
 
 Yet there is a policy in concluding matters by unanimous 
 consent; since this constitution was established to deprive 
 their kings of all means and opportunities of ever becoming 
 absolute : for they imagined it to be morally impossible, (as 
 it really is,) that whatever interest or authority the king
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixi 
 
 might get in the country, he should ever prevail so far as to 
 bring all the members of the diet (though he might have 
 the majority) to consent to any clause or bill, which might 
 any ways be injurious to the nation. 
 
 From what has been said, you may have just reason to 
 admire how the Polish kingdom could subsist for above a 
 thousand years with such bad constitutions, and still possess 
 not only vast tracts of land, but also hitherto enjoy their 
 freedom and liberties in their utmost force and extent. It 
 is wonderful also, that far from losing or limiting any of 
 their privileges, they rather enlarge and increase them, as 
 often as they elect their kings. Nay, considering the power 
 of their sovereign, the absolute prerogative every gentleman 
 has in his own lands, in a manner above the laws, the tur- 
 bulency of their diets, and the small obligation the officers 
 think they lie under to perform their several duties, the 
 Poles themselves have owned it to be no less than a miracle, 
 that they should have subsisted as a kingdom and republic 
 so long ; I having heard them to say, " that their preser- 
 " vation was to be attributed to God alone, that protected 
 " them to be the invincible bulwark of Europe against the 
 " progress of the common enemies of Christendom, the 
 " Turk* and Tartars/ 1 
 
 But here we have no need to have recourse to any pecu- 
 liar providence bestowed by God upon the Poles, since, by 
 our own ordinary recourse to all natural causes, we may 
 easily infer that the Polish nation could not but subsist 
 hitherto only, but likewise must, in all probability, last as 
 long as any kingdom in Europe ; and this for the following 
 reasons. 
 
 First, Because, though the king's power is limited by the 
 law, his credit and authority nevertheless is so great, that he 
 can dispose the affairs of the diet as he pleases, especially 
 where they tend to the public good of the kingdom ; for 
 few, if any one at all, will venture to protest against any 
 proceedings there, that are for the interest of the nation, 
 unless they are supported by a good party of senators and 
 deputies; and this, because it is not only infamous and
 
 Ixii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 scandalous to his person, but also prejudicial to his posterity, 
 that breaks up a diet ; and not a little dangerous to his life, 
 by irritating and disobeying so powerful a body. For they 
 are commonly very liberal, in their passion, of slashes and 
 cuts with their scimitars on any ill-natured, corrupted mem- 
 ber that opposes the interest of his country, though, in re- 
 ality, he has the law on his side. It is certain, therefore, 
 that when any person withstands the rest in the diet, it is 
 either because the king has not sufficiently employed his 
 authority to pacify him, or his policy to win him with some 
 small present; or else, because he does not care they 
 should agree ; or lastly, in regard to a considerable number 
 of senators and deputies, that support, or rather employ him 
 to protest against an act which they do not think it for their 
 interest to let pass. 
 
 Secondly, The order of the government, and their courage 
 and resolution, does not so much contribute towards their 
 preservation, as the envy and jealousies of their neighbours 
 among themselves ; for when the king of Sweden and the 
 elector of Brandenburgh made Avar with Poland, the Tartars 
 came to assist the Poles, and at the same time the king of 
 Denmark made a diversion in Sweden : when the Tartars 
 likewise declared war against Poland, most commonly either 
 the emperor of Germany or the czar of Muscovy comes to 
 its relief, or else make great diversions on their sides. For 
 as it is the interest of the princes their neighbours not to 
 let them grow to an exorbitance of power, so it is not at all 
 for their benefit to let them perish ; for whosoever could be 
 able to conquer Poland, and unite it to his dominions, would 
 quickly be too powerful to be put in balance with the rest. 
 
 Thirdly, The Poles, besides this, can the more easily 
 conserve their dominions, by reason that they have very few 
 strong forts or castles to shelter their enemies in, where 
 they happen to make any progress in their country ; yet I 
 verily believe that an army of fifty thousand men well dis- 
 ciplined would at present conquer the whole kingdom of 
 Poland, though at the same time I am of opinion that an 
 hundred thousand could not be able to keep it. Carolus
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixiii 
 
 Gustavus, king of Sweden, with about forty thousand men, 
 entirely subdued Poland in less than two years time ; yet 
 when he began to encroach too much upon their consti- 
 tutions and liberties, the Polish gentry joined unanimously 
 together, and soon drove the Swedes out of the kingdom. 
 The Tartars, in numerous bodies, make frequent incursions 
 into this open country ; but still, as soon as they have loaded 
 themselves with their booty, they make all possible haste 
 away. The loss of Caminiec makes the Poles admire at their 
 own policy in having no strong towns ; for they say, had not 
 that been so well fortified, it had not served for shelter to a 
 strong garrison of Turks and Tartars at their doors. Inso- 
 much that it may be observed, that forts and castles, which 
 other nations account their greatest security, would inevi- 
 tably be the ruin of Poland ; they being neither well skilled 
 in besieging towns, nor plentifully stored with good artillery, 
 engineers, ammunition, or other necessaries, since they never 
 were nor will be able to retake Caminiec, though it is a place 
 of no extraordinary strength. 
 
 I come now to my last particular ; which is a short view 
 of their customs and manners, such as I have already given 
 no account of; and must assure you, that both men and 
 womeruare extravagant to the last degree, insomuch that 
 some among them will have fifty suits of clothes at once, all 
 as rich as possible. But what shews their prodigality much 
 more is, that they will have their servants go almost as well 
 clad as themselves; whereby they generally waste away 
 their estates in a short time, and are reduced to great poverty 
 and want. As to their dwellingplaces, they never live above 
 stairs, and their houses are not united : the kitchen is on one 
 side, the stable on another, the house on another, and the 
 gate in the front ; all which make a court, either square or 
 round. 
 
 The inside of these houses is generally hung with ta- 
 pestry or arras ; and all the rest of their householdstuff pro- 
 portionably suitable. Yet towards Tartary they have little 
 or no rich furniture; and the gentry content themselves 
 with a few small beds with taffeta curtains, just enough to
 
 Ixiv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 lodge their families ; for if any go to lie at their houses, 
 they for the most part carry their beds along with them. 
 Though it be extreme cold in Poland, yet will almost every 
 one of these gentry have a bagnio in his house, in which the 
 women have their separate apartments. There are likewise 
 public baths in every city and town for the use of the com- 
 mon people, which they frequent not only in summer, but 
 also in winter ; from the use of which, in all probability, it 
 happens that the Polish children seldom break out in their 
 head or face, and that not one of a thousand is distorted, 
 crooked, or ill-shaped, as in other countries. 
 
 The Poles are generally so great admirers of splendour 
 and shew, that their ladies scarce stir out of doors, though 
 little further than cross the way, without a coach and six 
 horses, either to church, or to visit a neighbour ; but the 
 men for the greatest part go on horseback, and rarely on 
 foot, which they look upon as ignoble. When the gentry of 
 either sex go abroad at night, they have twenty-four or 
 more white wax flambeaux carried before their coach. Wo- 
 men of quality for the generality have their trains borne up 
 by he or she dwarfs : they have also an old woman with them, 
 which they call their governante, and an old gentleman 
 usher, whose office it is to follow their coach on foot, and to 
 help them out of it when they alight ; though the reason of 
 these two old people's waiting on them does not proceed from 
 any jealousy in their husbands, as in most of the eastern 
 countries, since the Polish ladies are generally very modest, 
 and do not at all abuse the great liberty that is allowed them. 
 
 As the Poles bear their own losses, and suffer all disas- 
 ters, with a great deal of temper, so likewise they regard 
 the miseries and misfortunes of others with the same indif- 
 ference; for they will often stand and see a house burn, 
 without offering in the least to lend a helping hand to 
 quench the fire. Neither are they more indulgent to their 
 children, or, on the contrary, the children to their parents ; 
 both of whom are reciprocally suffered to continue slaves to 
 the Tartars, when but a small sum of money would pur- 
 chase their redemption.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixv 
 
 As to their marriages, it must first be observed, that 
 the feasts of those gentry always last three days, be they 
 that make them either poor or rich ; wherefore they are ne- 
 cessarily exceeding expensive ; since, if a lady give in matri- 
 mony any one of her waiting maids, she generally expends 
 as much as for one of her daughters : an instance of which 
 I saw at court, during my lord ambassador Hyde's stay at 
 Zolkiew, when the queen celebrated the nuptials of one of 
 her maids of honour after this manner. The first and se- 
 cond day she gave a very magnificent feast ; for which pur- 
 pose a large hall was pitched upon, where three tables were 
 placed. At the first sat the king and queen, in a manner 
 that both faced the entrance into the hall. Next the queen 
 sat the couple that were to be married; and next to the 
 king, the pope's nuncio and archbishop of Gnesna, with the 
 foreign ambassadors. At the two other tables, extending 
 the whole length of the hall, were placed all the ladies, se- 
 nators, and officers, except only such as attended upon the 
 king and queen, all ranked according to their respective 
 precedence. 
 
 This feast began both days precisely at four in the after- 
 noon, and lasted to the same hour of the next morning ; and 
 it was observable that the senators eat very little, but drank 
 Hungarian wine to an immoderate degree ; nor did the bi- 
 shops themselves shew any great tokens of continence, they 
 leaving their seats very often, to go up to the king's table, 
 and drink his majesty's health on their knees. The ladies, 
 out of modesty, only touched the tops of the glasses with 
 their lips, and so sat them down before them, or poured 
 them into their plates, in such a manner that abundance 
 more wine was spilt than drank by them. 
 
 When they had sitten about five or six hours at table, 
 the violins and a little sort of portable organ began to strike 
 up, and then they spent the rest of the time in dancing. In 
 this exercise every body joined ; and even I myself, who 
 have no manner of relish for such unedifying vagaries, 
 had a Madonna put into my hand by the bishop of Plosko, 
 
 VOL. i. f
 
 kvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 whom I had the honour, as domestic chaplain to the am- 
 bassador from, the king of Great Britain, to sit next to. 
 Those that began this whimsical way of shaking the feet, 
 were the most ancient senators and old ladies, who moved 
 slowly about, like so many friars and nuns in procession ; 
 yet though the dance began with such gravity and formality, 
 it was ended with a great deal of hurry and confusion. 
 
 On the second day, all the guests presented the bride 
 with something new; and none gave less than a piece of 
 plate : which presents were all made in the presence of the 
 queen, it being the custom to perform this ceremony just 
 before they sit down to table. These made a good part of 
 the bride^s portion. 
 
 On the third day, the espousals were solemnized after 
 this manner. All the guests accompanied the bridegroom 
 and bride on horseback to church, as likewise in their re- 
 turn home. During all the time of their going and coming, 
 the trumpets sounded from the balconies on each side of the 
 way. When the bride had been conducted to her husband's 
 house, where a noble entertainment had been prepared, she, 
 at the departure of the company after dinner was ended, 
 fell a crying ; it being the custom, it seems, in Poland, for 
 maids to weep at that time, and to seem concerned, for fear 
 they should be thought impudent and immodest. 
 
 The men and women that stand godfathers and god- 
 mothers together at christenings, are thenceforward deemed 
 to be cousins and relations, though they were not so before, 
 and consequently cannot be married to each other, without 
 a dispensation from the bishop of the diocese. 
 
 The ceremonies of burial also in Poland are usually cele- 
 brated with so great pomp and magnificence, that one would 
 rather take them for triumphs than interments. At these, 
 the corpse having been put into a velvet coffin with large 
 thick silver plates at each corner, is placed in a hearse or 
 chariot with six horses all covered with black housings. 
 The coffin lias a large black velvet pall thrown over it, 
 with a cross of red satin in the middle, and six long black
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixvii 
 
 silk tassels hanging down from it, which are borne by as 
 many of the deceased's domestics, all in close mourning. 
 Before the chariot march several priests, monks, and a 
 great number of people, each of them carrying a white 
 wax torch lighted in his hand; next to whom, and im- 
 mediately before the corpse, come three men on horse- 
 back, who carry the arms of the deceased, viz. his sword, 
 his lance, and his dart. The procession thus set out moves 
 very slowly, so that they always come late to church. 
 After the burial-service is over, those that carried the arms 
 enter the church on horseback, and furiously riding up to 
 the coffin, break them thereupon ; after which, the body is 
 interred. Then they return to the house, where there is 
 always a very sumptuous supper prepared ; at which not 
 only the lay guests drive away sorrow by swilling to excess, 
 but force the clergy to do the like, by the same acts of in- 
 temperance. 
 
 I shall close all with the customs and manners of travel- 
 ling in Poland. As an introduction to which, you are to 
 understand, that there are scarce any inns in that country, 
 except those the natives call karczmas, where travellers are 
 obliged to lodge with the cattle. These inns, or rather long 
 stables, aFe all built up with boards, and covered with 
 straw : within there is no furniture ; neither are there any 
 windows, but all the light comes in either at holes made by 
 the weather, or the crevices of ill-joined boards. It is true, 
 at the further end they have a little chamber with a fire- 
 hearth; but to make an abatement for that, there is no 
 lodging in it, because of the gnats, fleas, bugs, and espe- 
 cially the noisome smell that incommodes it. For if they 
 happen to have a little window there, (which is a rarity if 
 they do,) yet they never open it, though the weather be at 
 its extremity of heat : so that strangers choose to lie in the 
 aforesaid stable, where the gospodarz or innkeeper lodges 
 himself and his family, than to be suffocated by the stink 
 and smell of so close and small a room. In the long room 
 there is also an intolerable smell, occasioned by a parcel of 
 rotten cabbages, which those people always keep by them.
 
 Ixviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 And this, though it may be agreeable enough to the na- 
 tives, who are used to it, yet to strangers it must be very 
 offensive. 
 
 In the inns or stables there are no tables or beds, except 
 one of the last in the little room just mentioned, which no- 
 body cares to lie in, because they can have no sheets but 
 what are as coarse as sackcloth, and have been often lain in 
 before. Neither is the straw in the stable much better, be- 
 cause (even of that) every company cannot have fresh : for 
 the gospodarz, after his guests are gone, generally gathers 
 ii up, and preserves it for new comers. Yet is it, in this 
 condition, preferable to the bed, by reason that he most 
 commonly airs it after it has been used. 
 
 By reason of this ill entertainment on the roads, all tra- 
 vellers in this country are obliged to have a calash with two 
 horses, wherein they carry all their necessaries and pro- 
 visions. Their beds, quilts, bolsters, sheets, and the like, are 
 generally packed up in a large serge bag, which afterwards 
 serves them instead of a seat in their leathern convenience. 
 They must provide also for the belly, by a case of bottles, 
 wherein to put the drink they make use of on the road, and a 
 basket for their meat, bread, &c. Moreover, they must fur- 
 nish themselves with every individual thing that they may 
 have occasion for, and take care to renew what they have 
 exhausted, whenever an opportunity shall offer : for he that 
 expects any thing but the indifferent lodging which I have 
 before spoken of, will be in a fair way of laying down in it 
 supperless. 
 
 Thus you may perceive, sir, that one that travels in Po- 
 land must, as it were tortoise or Tartar like, carry his whole 
 house with him, and besides undergo not a few incommodi- 
 ties to boot. However, when a man is provided as above, 
 he may travel at a very inconsiderable expense ; for lodging, 
 as indeed it ought, costs but very little ; and there is nothing 
 to pay for any thing else, because it cannot be got : the rea- 
 son, I suppose, being, that the gentry of the country never 
 offer to pay for what they call for, since there is no way to 
 force them to it ; so that when they ask for any thing, the
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixix 
 
 gospodarz always puts them off with a Nie musz, i. e. I 
 have nothing. Yet nevertheless, when they have any 
 thing to spare, they will freely give part of it to strangers ; 
 though generally, there being but few travellers in that 
 country, they provide only for their own families. There- 
 fore when travellers happen to be in want of provisions, 
 they are used to apply themselves to the devour, or lord of 
 the village, who forthwith supplies them gratis. 
 
 Poland being for the most part a flat and champaign 
 country, a calash and two horses will rid a great deal of 
 ground there in a day. Some of the gentry are so provi- 
 dent as to drive their own calashes themselves ; but of these 
 there are but few, stateliness being more in vogue with 
 them, than to suffer them to stoop to an employ fit for 
 their meanest servants. When they come to the inn, they 
 generally put their horses to grass, because the gospodarz 
 will not be easily induced to trust them for hay. There are 
 some likewise that travel on horseback, with a quilt for their 
 bed, about a foot and half broad, laid under their saddle. 
 They commonly employ the gospodarz to fetch them in 
 beer, bread, and whatever else they have occasion for ; and 
 which service he is not to refuse at his peril. 
 
 He trTat travels in winter will find it a very hard thing to 
 rest anights, especially on holydays, because then all the 
 peasants of the village are gathered together to carouse and 
 make merry in that long room where you are obliged to 
 lodge for want of a fire elsewhere ; for at that time there is 
 no sleeping without ; nay, as I said before, scarce with it, 
 (though men are commonly weary when they come off a 
 journey,) these men making such a continued din in your 
 ears with their excessive singing and dancing about the room, 
 which none perform more awkwardly, there being a custom 
 of rewarding a hard drinker here in Poland, by presenting 
 him with a shirt, frock, handkerchief, and the like. 
 
 Yet notwithstanding this vice, to which they are most un- 
 mercifully addicted, I may affirm, that, as to the character 
 of the Poles in general, they exceed all the nations of Eu- 
 rope in vivacity of spirit, strength of body, and length of 
 
 f 3
 
 Ixx MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 life ; which cannot be occasioned by their climate, because the 
 Swedes, Muscovites, and Germans live all under the same 
 parallel, and yet enjoy not the like vigour and health ; and 
 therefore must proceed, 
 
 First, from their diet; which, as to meat, is generally 
 fresh roasted flesh (for they scarce ever eat any boiled, or 
 salt, which causes the scurvy) and fowl ; which increases the 
 volatile and hard salts, and gives being to their vigour of 
 body and soul. 
 
 Secondly, from their drink, which is spirituous and strong; 
 being chiefly Hungarian wine burnt, or anise seed water, 
 both which they guzzle down in great quantities almost 
 all day long ; the poorer sort having a liquor distilled from 
 wheat, oats, or barley, which the gentry rectify with anise 
 seeds or aromatics. 
 
 Thirdly, from their living hardly, for they hate effemi- 
 nacy ; and a poor country cottage pleases them as well as a 
 palace; and they frequently weave tapestry and arras as 
 they travel along the road. Nay, many of them will sleep 
 in time of frost and snow without any bed or other con- 
 veniency ; and the little children, two months after they 
 have been born, have been carried about stark naked in 
 that season. 
 
 Fourthly, from hunting, which is very much in use with 
 them; they being expert in horsemanship to the greatest 
 perfection. 
 
 Fifthly, from other exercises ; as dancing, leaping, vault- 
 ing, jumping. They are likewise exceedingly given to talk- 
 ing, wherewith they agree with the French. 
 
 Sixthly, their hard beds, fasting, and temperance in 
 eating, very much contribute towards their long lives ; for 
 hard beds knit their joints, and temperance at meals revives 
 their spirits. Their slaves among them have no beds, and 
 the masters seldom use any thing but quilts. 
 
 Seventhly, their health, vigour, and long lives may rea- 
 sonably receive an addition from their great freedom and 
 privileges; for where a slavish dependance hebetates and 
 blunts the mind, and consequently enervates the body,
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxi 
 
 liberty exhilarates the one, and by that means strengthens 
 the other. 
 
 Thus having acquitted myself of every particular I gave 
 the promise of, I must, in discharge of the friendship you 
 honour me with, put the last hand to this long tiresome let- 
 ter ; which I cannot better do, than by my addresses to the 
 great Preserver of mankind, to keep you in the same state of 
 health which I left you in at my departure from Oxford- 
 shire ; that I may at my return (which I more and more 
 wish for, through the consideration of the great advantages 
 I shall receive from it) be restored to the happiness of your 
 conversation ; than which nothing can be more improving 
 to or desired by, 
 
 My best friend and most honoured instructor, 
 Your most faithful 
 
 and most obliged servant, 
 Dantzick, ROBERT SOUTH. 
 
 Dec. 16, 1677. 
 
 Soon after the doctor's return from Poland, he was, by 
 the dean and chapter of the collegiate church of West- 
 minster, in consideration of his great abilities to discharge 
 the pastoral office, made choice of to succeed Dr. Edward 
 Hinton as rector of Islip in Oxfordshire, a living of 200/. 
 per annum ; 100/. of which, out of his generous temper, he 
 allowed to the Rev. Mr. Penny, (student of Christ Church,) 
 his curate; and the other he expended in the educating 
 and apprenticing the poorer children of that place. After 
 having been two years incumbent there, he caused the chan- 
 cel, that had been suffered miserably to run to ruin by his 
 predecessor, to be rebuilt, as appears from the following 
 inscription over the entrance into the chancel : 
 
 ROBERTUS SOUTH, S. T. P. 
 
 In Ecclesiam hanc Parochialem 
 
 Inductus Anno 1678, 
 
 Propriis Sumptibus hauc 
 
 Cancellariam a Fundamentis 
 
 Instauravit extruxitque Anno Domini 1680. 
 
 f 4
 
 Ixxii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 He likewise having found the mansion-house belonging 
 to the rector much too mean for the largeness of the stipend, 
 and having heard of the honour done to that village by the 
 birth of Edward the Confessor, (as that king himself de- 
 clares in his charter, whereby he gives that village, and 
 other lands thereunto adjacent, to St. Peter's church in 
 Westminster,) caused the shattered remains of it to be to- 
 tally pulled down, and an edifice erected in a more con- 
 venient part of the town. The land upon which he built it, 
 with a handsome garden, he purchased as a perpetual man- 
 sion for himself and successors ; which may now vie with 
 most parsonage houses in England, as may be seen in Dr. 
 White Rennet's Parochial Antiquities, wherein he gives a 
 view of it in a plate inscribed to Dr. South, whose coat of 
 arms is engraved over it, with this inscription, Viro reve- 
 rendo Roberto South, S. T. P. rectori ecclesice de Islip, ta- 
 ibulam hanc, qua amplum et elegantem rectories mansum 
 suis impensis constructum representat, D. D. White Kennet. 
 Nos admiremur, imitentur posteri. Though in what year 
 this house was built, I am not hitherto informed. 
 
 In the year 1681, the doctor, who was then one of his majes- 
 ty's chaplains in ordinary, being in waiting, preached before 
 the king upon these words, The lot is cast into the lap, but 
 the disposing- of it is of the Lord. Wherein, having spoken 
 of the various changes and dispensations of Providence, and 
 the unaccountable accidents and particulars of life, he in- 
 troduces these three examples of unexpected advancements 
 after this manner : 
 
 " Who that had looked upon Agathocles first handling 
 " the clay, and making pots under his father, and afterwards 
 " turning robber, could have thought, that from such a 
 " condition he should come to be king of Sicily ? 
 
 " Who that had seen Masinello, a poor fisherman, with 
 " his red cap and his angle, would have reckoned it pos- 
 " sible to see such a pitiful thing, within a week after, 
 " shining in his cloth of gold, and with a word or a nod 
 " absolutely commanding the whole city of Naples ? 
 
 " And who, that had beheld such a bankrupt, beggarly
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxiii 
 
 " fellow as Cromwell, first entering the parliament house 
 " with a threadbare torn cloak, greasy hat, (perhaps neither 
 " of them paid for,) could have suspected, that in the space 
 " of so few years, he should, by the murder of one king, 
 " and the banishment of another, ascend the throne?" At 
 which the king fell into a violent fit of laughter, and turn- 
 ing to the lord Rochester, said, " Ods fish, Lory, your 
 " chaplain must be a bishop; therefore put me in mind of 
 " him at the next death !" 
 
 During the remaining part of king Charles the second's 
 reign, wherein he continued a strenuous assertor of the pre- 
 rogatives of the crown against such as were industrious to- 
 wards their diminution, what by the interest of his patron, 
 who, at his return from his embassy, was made lord Hyde 
 and viscount Wootton Basset, and what by his own merits, 
 he had several offers of advancement into the hierarchy, 
 which he modestly declined, as having wherewithal to sup- 
 port himself according to the dignities of the church he 
 stood possessed of, and the distribution of charities he had 
 already settled, and intended to lay schemes for. 
 
 In order to this, he made some purchases of houses on 
 Ludgate-hill and Token-house Yard ; which puts me in 
 mind-x)f a tenant of his, one Mr. Taylor, then living upon 
 Ludgate-hill, a rigid Presbyterian, who, during the time of 
 Oates's sham plot, had nothing but the whore of Babylon 
 before his eyes, and dreamt of nothing but evidences, forty 
 thousand Spanish pilgrims with long bills, butchers' knives, 
 gags, gridirons, and what not. This man, upon his coming 
 to the doctor in order to pay his rent, could not but discover 
 his fears of the introduction of popery, and the dismal cir- 
 cumstances of fire and fagot, with many other terrible ideas 
 of persecution and enslavement. At which the doctor 
 smiling, bid him be of good cheer, and very briskly told 
 him, that " churchmen indeed might have some grounds 
 " for such apprehensions, but that persons of his persuasion 
 " had nothing to fear on the account of religion, since they 
 " were too great hypocrites to die martyrs." 
 
 On the accession of king James the second to the throne,
 
 ixxiv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 notwithstanding his patron was then earl of Rochester, and 
 advanced to the dignity of lord high treasurer of England, 
 and his lordship's brother, the earl of Clarendon, was lord 
 lieutenant of Ireland, made him an offer of an archbishopric 
 of that kingdom, he continued fixed in his resolves of living 
 privately; which even those two noble peers themselves 
 were forced to do soon after, by their dismission from 
 court: for that unhappy prince being fully bent upon a 
 general toleration of all Christian dissenters from the church 
 established, and pushed forwards upon extremities to obtain 
 liberty for the exercise of the Romish religion, by taking off 
 the test and penal laws, took upon him to closet the chief 
 men about him, and either to bring them over to his will by 
 persuasions or threats. 
 
 Among others, the earl of Rochester, who was his ma- 
 jesty's brother-in-law, and therefore very dear to him, was 
 examined concerning his opinion and sentiments relating 
 to the king's will and pleasure, which his majesty was fully 
 bent to have obedience paid to by all about him on pain of 
 removal. Hereupon the good earl, after having, like a faith- 
 ful counsellor, pointed out the fatal consequences of his 
 majesty's impolitic resolves, and begged him to desist from 
 an enterprise that would be found impracticable, very sub- 
 missively and prudently made answer, that he had been 
 bred up in the principles of a religion which taught him 
 that obedience to his prince which he had hitherto neveJ* 
 failed in ; and that his duty to God, who was the King of 
 kings, obliged him to continue in the practice of them. 
 However, if his majesty should be so pleased, (so certain 
 was he of the truth of the doctrines he had received from 
 the primitive church,) he was willing to abide by the result 
 of a dispute between two church of England divines and 
 two of the church of Rome ; being not fearful of venturing 
 to say, that, to which side soever the victory should incline, 
 his lordship would from that time abide by that which con- 
 quered. Hereunto the king very readily agreed, and im- 
 mediately nominated the fathers Giffard and Tilden for his 
 two champions, and appointed the rule of faith to be the
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxv 
 
 subject-matter of the controversy. The persons at first pro- 
 posed by the earl were Dr. Jane and Dr. South ; but the 
 latter was so unacceptable to his majesty by the bitter invec- 
 tives he was said to make use of in the pulpit against the 
 Papists and Presbyterians, who then joined in their endea- 
 vours for liberty of conscience, that he told his lordship he 
 could not agree to the choice of Dr. South, who, instead of 
 arguments, would bring railing accusations, and had not 
 temperament of mind enough to go through a dispute that 
 required the greatest attention and calmness. Hereupon 
 the earl chose Dr. Patrick, then dean of Peterborough, and 
 minister of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, a very able divine, in 
 his room, but would needs have the assistance of Dr. South 
 in a consultation held the night before the conference was 
 to commence ; wherein were such irrefragable arguments, 
 drawn up by him on the subject they were to discourse upon, 
 as totally obtained a conquest over their two opponents, and 
 made the king dismiss his two pretended advocates with this 
 rebuke, " that he could say more in the behalf of his re- 
 " ligion than they could ; and that he never heard a good 
 " cause managed so ill, nor a bad one so well." So that if 
 Dr. South could not be said to be in the battle, he was a 
 very great instrument of obtaining the victory: and Dr. 
 Jane has often owned, (though a most excellent casuist him- 
 self,) that the auxiliary arguments contributed by Dr. South 
 did more towards flinging their antagonists on their backs, 
 than his or his colleague's. 
 
 The residue of king James's reign being taken up in acts 
 of bigotry and violence, after he had quelled Monmouth's 
 rebellion, (towards the suppression of which the doctor 
 openly professed, that if there should be occasion, he would 
 change his black gown for a buff coat,) gives us no farther 
 particulars of Dr. Sou'th, than that he spent the greatest part 
 of his time at Islip and Oxford, and sometimes at his paternal 
 estate at Caversham in Oxfordshire, near Reading, where he 
 was busied in preparing most of those excellent sermons for 
 the press, which have since seen the light, and exercised hiuir 
 self in devotions to deprecate the judgments that seemed to
 
 Ixxvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 hang over the national church. Though I must not forget 
 one passage relating to him at the latter end of these times, 
 which, notwithstanding it was too light for serious thoughts, 
 gave occasion for mirth, and may serve to shew the spirit 
 and vivacity of the man whom it owes its being to. Mr. Lob, 
 a dissenting teacher, who was so much in favour at court, as 
 to be admitted into that king^s most honourable privy coun- 
 cil, being to preach one day while the doctor was obliged to 
 be resident at Westminster, the latter had the curiosity, 
 since fame had spoke so much of him, to be one of his au- 
 ditors incognito. Accordingly he disguised himself, and 
 took a seat in his conventicle, where the preacher being 
 mounted up in the pulpit, and naming his text, made no- 
 thing of splitting it into twenty-six divisions ; upon which, 
 separately, he very gravely undertook to expatiate in their 
 order. Hereupon the doctor rose up, and jogging a friend 
 who bore him company, said, " Let us go home and fetch 
 " our gowns and slippers, for I find this man will make 
 " night work of it." 
 
 Yet, how ludicrous soever such expressions as these may 
 seem, when applied to a man of his character, so inexhaust- 
 ible and flowing was his wit, that it even broke through him 
 in his most serious meditations ; and it ought to be imputed 
 to his zeal for the honour of the true religion, if he, in 
 many of his discourses, is found harsh and acrimonious. 
 Lukewarmness in devotion was what his soul abhorred, and 
 he looked upon sectarists of all sorts as enemies, who, though 
 different in persuasion, joined together in attempts for the 
 destruction of the holy catholic church ; and to thwart their 
 measures, he was unwearied in his persuasions, wheresoever 
 he went, and wheresoever he preached, to excite his audi- 
 ence to the most ardent and holy affections for the cause of 
 God and his church. Not that he, as many others did, le- 
 velled his satires against the court, or would speak evil of 
 those powers whom God in his wise dispensation had set 
 over us ; not that he uttered grievances from the pulpit, 
 or sought the alteration of the government by bringing in 
 texts of scripture in justification of resistance and taking
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxvii 
 
 arms against the prince, to whose pernicious and traitorous 
 ministers they were wholly to be imputed. But when the 
 archbishop of Canterbury, and bishops that signed the in- 
 vitation to the prince of Orange to come over and rescue 
 our laws and liberties, would have had him to do the same, 
 he very handsomely refused it, by telling them, " his re- 
 " ligion had taught him to bear all things ; and howsoever 
 " it should please God that he should suffer, he would, by 
 " the divine assistance, continue to abide by his allegiance, 
 " and use no other weapons but his prayers and tears for 
 " the recovery of his sovereign from the wicked and unad- 
 " vised counsels wherewith he was entangled." 
 
 However, when the revolution was happily brought about, 
 and the king thought fit to abdicate his kingdom by 
 flying into France ; when the convention had settled the 
 crown upon the prince and princess of Orange, and he saw 
 himself deserted by that sovereign who should have con- 
 tinued to protect him ; he, after many struggles with him- 
 self, and many conflicts with others, was convinced that obe- 
 dience and protection were reciprocal terms ; and that when 
 the latter ceased to be of any use to him, the former was 
 void also,; though as to the time of his closing in with the 
 government newly settled, I cannot be particular ; notwith- 
 standing I am perfectly well assured that he stood out for 
 some time, and at last did not come in upon any temporal 
 considerations : it having always been known to be his prac- 
 tice rather to slight riches, than to have an overweening de- 
 sire after them ; and to keep his conscience void of offence 
 towards God and towards man, than to indulge any earthly 
 appetite. 
 
 Yet though Dr. South complied so far with the necessity 
 of the times, as to acknowledge the settlement to be legal, 
 upon the foot of the revolution, when offers were made him 
 by some great men at the helm, who had then the benefit of 
 the royal ear, of procuring him a very great dignity in the 
 church, upon the vacating several of the episcopal sees, 
 for refusing the oaths of allegiance to their majesties king 
 William and queen Mary, in the year 1691 5 he very hand-
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 somely excused himself, by declaring, " that notwithstand- 
 " ing he himself saw nothing that was contrary to the laws 
 " of God and the common practice of all nations, to submit 
 " to princes in possession of the throne, yet others might 
 " have their reasons for a contrary opinion ; and he blessed 
 " God that he was neither so ambitious, nor in want of pre- 
 " ferment, as, for the sake of it, to build his rise upon the 
 " ruins of any one father of the church, who for piety, good 
 " morals, and strictness of life, which every one of the de- 
 " prived bishops were famed for, might be said not to have 
 " left their equal :" being afterwards followed in this by 
 the great Dr. Beveridge, late bishop of St. Asaph, who like- 
 wise refused the bishopric of Bath and Wells, while the last 
 incumbent, Dr. Kenn, was living. " These," (speaking of 
 the deprived bishops, says the author of the History of 
 Faction,) " were the meek, pious, and learned Dr. Sancroft, 
 " lord archbishop of Canterbury ; the seraphic Dr. Kenn, 
 " bishop of Bath and Wells ; the evangelical Dr. Turner, bi-" 
 " shop of Ely; the vigilant Dr. Lake, bishop of Chichester ; 
 " the resolute and undaunted Dr. White, bishop of Peter- 
 " borough ; the unchangeable Dr. Lloyd, bishop of Nor- 
 " wich ; and the irreproachable Dr. Frampton, bishop of 
 " Gloucester." 
 
 To return to Dr. South, who by no means liked the act of 
 toleration for all Protestant dissenters, nor could well relish 
 some proceedings at court, whereby he suspected (how justly 
 I will not take upon me to determine) some persons to be 
 countenanced, and in great power, who were enemies to the 
 church established; he laid hold of all occasions to decry 
 their measures, and baffle their designs. And as he had vi- 
 gorously exerted himself with the commissioners appointed 
 by the king in 1689, for an union with dissenting Protest- 
 ants, in behalf of our Liturgy and forms of prayer, and en- 
 treated them by no means to part with any of its ceremonies 
 that might have endangered the loss of the whole ; so he 
 scarce ever preached, but he set before his auditors the 
 mischiefs that would arise by admitting such vipers into the 
 revenues of the church, that would eat their way through
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxix 
 
 their adopted (not natural) mother's bowels. This he chiefly 
 undertook to do, by exposing their insufficiency for the great 
 work of the ministry ; by ridiculing their want of fit know- 
 ledge ; and by setting them forth in such colours, as might 
 at once give his audience ideas of pleasure and horror, in 
 reflections upon their deliverance from the usurpations of 
 such pretended gospel-mongers, and the unhappy circum- 
 stances they would be involved in, should the like wolves 
 in sheep!* clothing be again in power. And this he never 
 did better or more effectually than in a sermon preached at 
 the abbey church of Westminster, in the year 1692, upon 
 1 Cor. xii. 4. Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same 
 Spirit: wherein among other acute and biting sarcasms 
 relating to the practices of dissenting teachers in the times 
 of usurpation and rebellion, he thus speaks of them : 
 " Amongst those of the late reforming age, all learning 
 " was utterly cried down ; so that with them the best 
 " preachers were such as could not read, and the ablest 
 " divines such as could hardly spell the letter. To be blind 
 " was with them the proper qualification of a spiritual 
 "guide; and to be book-learned, as they called it, and 
 " to be irreligious, were convertible terms. None were 
 " thought fit for the ministry but tradesmen and mechanics, 
 " because none else were allowed to have the Spirit. Those 
 " only were accounted like St. Paul, who could work with 
 " their hands, and in a literal sense drive the nail home, and 
 " be able to make a pulpit before they preached in it. 11 In 
 another place, branching out these gifts into various heads, 
 and particularizing upon the gift of divers tongues ; " It is 
 " certain," says he, " that they scarce speak the same things 
 " for two days together. Though otherwise it must be con- 
 " fessed that they were none of the greatest linguists, their 
 " own mother tongue serving all their occasions, without 
 " ever so much as looking into the fathers, who always 
 " spoke the language of the beast, to such as could not un- 
 " der stand them. Latin was with them a mortal crime ; 
 " and Greek, instead of being owned for the language of
 
 Ixxx MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " the Holy Ghost, (as in the New Testament it is,) was 
 " looked upon as the sin against it : so that, in a word, 
 " they had all the confusions of Babel amongst them, with- 
 " out the diversity of tongues." 
 
 In the year 1693, the pestilent sect of the Socinians, by 
 the countenance of the act of toleration, and the loose senti- 
 ments of some of our own divines, had gotten considerable 
 ground in England since the revolution, and being favoured 
 by the licentiousness of the press, they published many of 
 their pamphlets, enough to provoke any Christian govern- 
 ment. Hereupon, either to check their insolence, or ag- 
 grandize himself in the opinion of the world, Dr. Sherlock, 
 then dean of St. Paul's by his new conversion., undertook the 
 vindication of that orthodox doctrine concerning the Trinity. 
 But because mysteries of faith, being above reason, are not 
 to be explained by reason, since they would thereby cease to 
 be mysteries ; it fared with the doctor, that while he made it 
 his endeavour to prove three distinct Persons, he was very 
 justly charged with proving three distinct Gods; having 
 asserted that there were in the Godhead three minds, three 
 beings, and three intelligences ; which gave the Unitarians 
 occasion to triumph, and made it necessary that one well- 
 skilled champion should arise for the defence of the truth 
 delivered down to us by the holy gospel. 
 
 Hereupon Dr. South, one whom his very antagonists al- 
 lowed to be a person every way qualified, engaged the bold 
 Tritheist, and so handled him, that he had little else to 
 have recourse to than superficial and trifling evasions ; and 
 the charge of Tritheism upon him was no supposed crime, 
 but a most real, and, what is more, a premeditated offence. 
 But it must be confessed, that it had been much more for 
 the honour of them both, had they not been so severe upon 
 the characters of each other, and had entered less into 
 searches after those unfathomable depths which are imper- 
 ceptible, and by the divine will are likewise ever to remain 
 so, and therefore ought by all Christians to be revered as 
 mysteries that surpass human understanding.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxxi 
 
 Dr. Sherlock entitled his book, A Vindication of the holy 
 and ever blessed Trinity. And Dr. South published his re- 
 ply (without his name) under the following title : Animad- 
 versions upon Dr. SherlocJc's Book, entitled., A Vindication 
 of the holy and ever blessed Trinity, &c. Together with a 
 more necessary Vindication of that sacred and prime Article 
 of the Christian Faith from his new Notions and false Ex- 
 plications of it; humbly offered to his Admirers, and to 
 himself the chief of them. By a Divine of the Church of 
 England. The preface to which he begins thus, viz. 
 
 " To be impugned from without, and betrayed from 
 " within, is certainly the worst condition that either church 
 " or state can fall into; and the best of churches, the 
 " church of England, has had experience of both. It had 
 " been to be wished, and (one would think) might very 
 " reasonably have been expected, that when Providence 
 " had took the work of destroying the church of England 
 " out of the Papists 1 hands, some would have been con- 
 " tented with her preferments, without either attempting 
 " to give up her rights and liturgy, or deserting her doc- 
 " trine. But it has proved much otherwise. And amongst 
 " those who are justly chargeable with the latter, I know 
 " none wiio has faced the world and defied the church with 
 " so bold a front, as the author of two very heterodox 
 " books; the first entitled, A Discourse concerning the 
 " Knowledge of Jesus Christ, &c. published in the year 
 " 1674: and the other, A Vindication of the Doctrine of 
 " the holy and ever blessed Trinity, &c. and (as one would 
 " think) wrote purposely to let the world see^ that the truth 
 " cannot be so much shaken by a direct opposition, as by a 
 " treacherous and false defence." 
 
 " Really our author has shewn himself very communi- 
 " cative to the world : for as in the beginning of his book 
 " he has vouchsafed to instruct us how to judge of contra- 
 " dictions, so in the progress of his work he has conde- 
 " scended to teach us (if we will but learn) how to speak 
 " and write contradictions too. There remains therefore 
 
 VOL. i. g
 
 Ixxxii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " only one favour more, viz. that he would vouchsafe to 
 " teach us how to reconcile them also.' 1 Page 26, book i. 
 (alluding to a book written by Dr. Sherlock, in the year 
 1 685, called, An Answer to the Protestant Reconciler.) 
 
 " It is indeed an amazing 'thing to consider, that any one 
 " man should presume to browbeat all the world at such a 
 " rate ; and we may well wonder at the force of his confi- 
 " dence and self-conceit, that it should be able to raise any 
 " one to such a pitch. But naturalists have observed, that 
 " blindness in some animals is a very great help and insti- 
 " gation to boldness. And amongst men, as Ignorance is 
 " commonly said to be the mother of devotion, so, in ac- 
 " count for the birth and descent of Confidence too, (what- 
 " soever cause some may derive it from,) yet certainly he 
 " who makes Ignorance the mother of this also, reckons its 
 " pedigree by the surer side." Chap. ii. p. 67. 
 
 " Our author not being satisfied with the account given 
 " of the mystery of the blessed Trinity by the schools, nor 
 " with those notions about it which have hitherto obtained 
 " in the world till he came into it ; (no doubt as a person 
 " peculiarly sent and qualified to rectify all those imperfect 
 " and improper notions which had been formerly received 
 " by divines ;) he, I say, with a lofty, undertaking mind, 
 " and a reach beyond all before, and indeed beside him, and 
 " (as the issue is like to prove) as much above him too, 
 " undertakes to give the world a much better and more 
 " satisfactory explication of this great mystery; and that, 
 " by two new terms or notions (purely and solely) of his 
 " own invention, called self consciousness and mutual con- 
 " sciousness; which, though still joined together by our 
 " author, in his explication of the blessed Trinity, have yet 
 " very different effects." Chap. iii. in princip. 
 
 " He exposes a poor, senseless, infant hypothesis to the 
 " wide world, and then very unmercifully leaves it to shift 
 " for itself."" In 'eodem cap. versus finem. 
 
 " I dismiss his two so much admired terms, (by himself, 
 " I mean,) as in no degree answering the expectation he
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxxiii 
 
 " raised of them. For I cannot find, that they have either 
 " heightened or strengthened men's intellectual faculties, or 
 " cast a greater light and clearness upon that object which 
 " has so long exercised them ; but that a Trinity in Unity 
 " is as mysterious as ever ; and the mind of man as unable 
 " to grasp and comprehend it, as it hath been from the be- 
 *' ginning to this day. In a word, self consciousness and 
 " mutual consciousness have rendered nothing about the 
 " Divine Nature and Persons plainer, easier, and more 
 " intelligible; nor indeed, after such a mighty stress so ir- 
 " rationally laid upon two slight, empty words, have they 
 " made any thing (but the author himself) better under- 
 " stood than it was before." Chap. iv. page 11 5. 
 
 " And indeed I cannot but here further declare, that to 
 " me it seems one of the most preposterous and unrea- 
 " sonable things in nature, for any one first to assert three 
 " Gods, and, when he has so well furnished the world with 
 " deities, to expect that all mankind should fall down and 
 " worship them." Chap. v. page 143. 
 
 " Certainly one would think, that the very shame of the 
 " world, and that common awe and regard of truth, which 
 " nature has imprinted on the minds of men, should keep 
 " any one from offering to impose upon men in so gross 
 " and shameless a manner, as to venture to call a notion 
 " or opinion the constant doctrine both of the fathers and 
 " schools ; nay, and to profess to make it out, and shew it 
 " to be so ; and while he is so doing, not to produce one 
 " father or schoolman ; I say again, not so much as one 
 " of either, in behalf of that which he so confidently and 
 *' expressly avows to be the joint sentiments of both. This 
 " surely is a way of proving, or rather of imposing, pe- 
 " culiar to himself. But we have seen how extremely fond 
 " he is of this new term and notion : and therefore, since 
 " he will needs have the reputation of being the sole father 
 " and begetter of the hopeful issue, there is no reason in the 
 " world that antiquity should find other fathers to main- 
 " tain it." Chap. vi. p. 168. 
 
 " The book called by him A Vindication of the Trinity r ,
 
 Ixxxiv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " is certainly like a kind of pot or vessel with handles quite 
 " round it; turn it which way you will, you are sure to find 
 " something to take hold of it by."" Page 358. 
 
 " I cannot see any new advantage he has got over the 
 " Socinians, unless it be that he thinks his three Gods will 
 " be too hard for their one. And perhaps it is upon pre- 
 " sumption of this, that he discharges that clap of thunder 
 " at them in his preface, where he tells us, tliat having 
 " dipped his pen in the vindication of so glorious a cause, 
 " by the grace of God he will never desert it, while he can 
 " hold pen in hand. In which words methinks I see him 
 " ready armed and mounted, (with his face towards the 
 " west,) and brandishing his sword aloft, all reeking with 
 " Socinian blood, and with the very darts of his eyes looking 
 " his poor forgotten friends through and through. For in 
 " good earnest the words sound very terribly to these men ; 
 " but most terribly of all to the article itself, (which is like 
 " to suffer most by his Vindication;) for thus to threaten 
 " that he will never leave off vexing it, as long- as he can 
 " hold pen in hand, (which I dare say will be as long as he 
 " can tell money with it,) this, I say again, sounds very 
 dreadfully." P. 359- 
 
 In 1695, Dr. Sherlock published a Defence of himself 
 against the animadverter ; to which Dr. South replied (in- 
 cog, as before) in a treatise, entitled, Tritheism charged 
 upon Dr. Sherlock^ new Notion of the Trinity. And the 
 Charge made good, in Answer to the Defence of the said 
 Notion against the Animadversions, &c. This piece he thus 
 addressed, To all Professors of Divinity in the two Univer- 
 sities of this Kingdom. " Our church's enemies of late," 
 says he, " seem to have diverted their main attacks from her 
 " outworks in matters of discipline and ceremony; and now 
 " it is no less than her very capitol which they invade ; her 
 " palladium (if I may allude to such expressions) which 
 " they would rob her of; even the prime, the grand, and dis- 
 " tinguishing article of our Christianity, the article of the 
 " blessed Trinity itself; without the belief of which, I dare 
 " aver that a man can no more be a Christian, than he can,
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxxv 
 
 " without a rational soul, be a man. And this is now the 
 " point so fiercely laid at and assaulted, both by Socinian- 
 " ism on the one hand, and by Tritheism, or rather Pagan- 
 " ism, on the other. For as the former would run it down 
 " by stripping the Godhead of a ternary of 'Persons, so the 
 " other would as effectually, but more scandalously over- 
 " throw it, by introducing a trinity of Gods; as they in- 
 " evitably do, who assert the three Divine Persons to be 
 " three distinct infinite minds, or spirits; which, I positively 
 " affirm, is equivalent to the asserting the said three Persons 
 " to be three Gods. And I doubt not of your learned con- 
 " currence with me, and abetment of me in this affirmation. 
 
 " If it must be the lot of the church of England to sit 
 " down, and see her most holy religion practised upon by 
 " such wretched innovations as can tend only to ridicule and 
 " expose the chief articles of it to the scorn of Arians and 
 " Socinians, and all this under pretence of explaining' them; 
 " I can but say, God deliver our poor church from such 
 " explainers, and our creed from such explications. And 
 " as I heartily commiserate the unhappy state of that, so I 
 " really pity this bold man himself, that he should be thus 
 " suffered ,to go on venting his scandalous heterodoxies, 
 " without finding either friends to counsel, or superiors to 
 " control him." Page 71. 
 
 " That the Holy Ghost is called 7rpo/3oA>j, not by ema- 
 " nation, but by procession, is just as if one should say of 
 " Peter, that he is not a living creature, but a man. From 
 4 ' all which it follows, that this author is grossly ignorant of 
 " the true philosophical sense of the term emanation; some- 
 " times applying it to one thing, and sometimes denying it 
 " of another ; but both at a venture, and just as people use 
 " to do at blindman's buff." Page 76. 
 
 " The soul of Socrates, vitally joined with & female body, 
 " would certainly make a woman; and yet, according to 
 '" this author's principle, (affirming that it is the soul, and 
 " the soul only, which makes the person,) Socrates, with 
 " such a change of body, would continue the same person,
 
 Ixxxvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " and consequently the same Socrates still. And in like 
 " manner for Xantippe ; the conjunction of her soul with 
 "another sex would certainly make the whole compound a 
 " man; and yet, nevertheless, Xantippe would continue the 
 " same person, and the same Xantippe still ; save only? I 
 " confess, that, upon such an exchange of bodies with her 
 " husband Socrates, she would have more right to wear the 
 " breeches than she had before." P. 129. 
 
 " If he proves, that three absolute entire beings can be 
 " three relative subsistences or modifications of one and the 
 " same infinite mind or being, then I will grant, that he 
 " has defended his assertion against the animadverter ; 
 " and not only so, but that he has full power also (by a 
 " theological use of his own making) to alter the sense and 
 " signification of all words, in spite of the world, and by 
 " virtue of the same, (if he pleases,) may call the deanery 
 " of St. Paul's the archbishopric of Canterbury, and behave 
 " himself accordingly. 11 Pages 243, 244. 
 
 He excepts against Bellarmine 1 s orthodoxy, (because 
 " forsooth he was a Papist,) like that profound dotard who 
 " reproved a young student for reading Clavius upon Eu- 
 " clid, telling him that he ought to read none but Protest- 
 " ant mathematics : surely the Romish writers are as ortho- 
 " dox about the article of the Trinity, as any Protestant 
 " writers whatsoever J 11 P. 256. 
 
 " When I look back upon that shrewd remark of his, 
 " with which he begins the said answer, viz. That logic is 
 '< a very troublesome thing when men want sense, (p. 93. 
 " 1. 7,) I must confess, that he here speaks like a man who 
 " understands himself; and that having so often shewn, how 
 " troublesome a thing logic is to him, by his being so angry 
 " with it, he now gives a very satisfactory reason why it is 
 " so : and therefore, in requital of it, I cannot but tell him, 
 " that if logic without sense be so troublesome, confidence, 
 " without either logic, or sense, or truth, or shame, or so 
 " much as conscience of what one says or denies, is intole- 
 " rable. 11 P. 274.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxxvii 
 
 " And so I take my leave of the dean's three distinct, in- 
 " finite minds, spirits, or substances, that is to say, of his 
 " three Gods; and having done this, methinks I see him go 
 " whimpering away, with his finger in his eye, and that 
 " complaint of Micah in his mouth, Judges xviii. 24. Ye 
 " have taken away my gods which I made; and what have 
 " / more ? Though I must confess I cannot tell why he 
 " should be so fond of them, since I dare undertake, that he 
 " will never be able to bring the Christian world either to 
 " believe in, or to worship a trinity of Gods. Nor do I see 
 " what use they are likely to be of, even to himself, unless 
 " peradventure to swear by." Page 281. 
 
 The result of this paper war gave the victory to Dr. 
 South, and decided after a most extraordinary manner in 
 his favour : for Mr. Bingham, fellow of University college 
 in Oxford, having some time after taken upon him to fall 
 in with Dr. Sherlock's notions, and asserted, in a sermon be- 
 fore the university, " that there were three infinite distinct 
 " minds and substances in the Trinity; and also that the 
 " three Persons in the Trinity are three distinct minds or 
 " spirits, and three individual substances;" was censured 
 by a solemn decree there in convocation : wherein, " they 
 " judge, declare, and determine the aforesaid words, lately 
 *' delivered in the said sermon, to be false, impious, and he- 
 " retical, disagreeing with, and contrary to the doctrine of 
 " the church of England publicly received." 
 
 But this decree rather irritated the parties than composed 
 the differences: whereupon the king interposed his royal 
 authority, by directions to the archbishops and bishops, that 
 no preacher whatsoever, in his sermon or lecture, should 
 presume to deliver any other doctrine concerning the blessed 
 Trinity, than what was contained in the holy scriptures, 
 and was agreeable to the three Creeds and the Thirty-nine 
 Articles of Religion ; which put an end to the controversy, 
 though not till after both the disputants (with Dr. Burnet, 
 master of the Charter-house, who about the same time pub- 
 lished his Archcsologia, whereby he impugned and weakened, 
 as much as in him lay, the divine truths of the Old Testa-
 
 Ixxxviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 ment) had received a reprimand from a witty ballad, called, 
 The Battle Royal; to the tune of A Soldier and a Sailor : 
 
 A dean and prebendary 
 Had once a new vagary, 
 And were at doubtful strife, sir, 
 Who led the better life, sir, 
 
 And was the better man, 
 
 And was the better man. 
 The dean he said, that truly, 
 Since Bluff was so unruly, 
 He'd prove it to his face, sir, 
 That he had the most grace, sir, 
 
 And so the fight began, &c. 
 When Preb replied like thunder, 
 And roar'd out, 'Twas no wonder, 
 Since Gods the dean had three, sir, 
 And more by two than he, sir, 
 
 For he had got but one, &c. 
 Now whilst these two were raging, 
 And in disputes engaging, 
 The master of the Charter 
 Said both had caught a Tartar, 
 
 For Gods, sir, there were none, &c. 
 That all the books of Moses 
 Were nothing but supposes ; 
 That he deserv'd rebuke, sir, 
 Who wrote the Pentateuch, sir; 
 
 'Twas nothing but a sham, &c. 
 That as for father Adam, 
 With Mrs. Eve his madam, 
 And what the serpent spoke, sir, 
 'Twas nothing but a joke, sir, 
 
 And well-invented flam, &c. 
 Thus in this battle-royal, 
 As none would take denial, 
 The dame for which they strove, sir, 
 Could neither of them love, sir, 
 
 Since all had giv'n offence, &c. 
 She therefore slyly waiting, 
 Left all three fools a prating, 
 And being in a fright, sir, 
 Religion took her flight, sir, 
 
 And ne'er was heard of since, 
 
 And ne'er was heard of since. 
 
 Whether this ballad is worded with that decency that the 
 subject of the dispute, or the very eminent and learned per-
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. Ixxxix 
 
 sons concerned in it, required, it is not in my sphere to de- 
 cide ; but the reception it met with in being translated into 
 several languages, (particularly Latin, by a curious hand at 
 the university of Cambridge,) and the presents made to the 
 author by the nobility and gentry, made it evident that 
 their sentiments were against having the mysteries of our 
 holy religion discussed and canvassed after so ludicrous a 
 manner. Not but that Dr. South' s zeal for the cause of God 
 and the defence of the blessed Trinity may atone for those 
 loose and unguarded expressions that fell from his pen ; and 
 it is of great use to his justification to say, that it had been 
 a crime in him to have been lukewarm and indolent, when 
 the presumption of man should dare to push him forward 
 upon explanations of those sacred arcana, (which God, who 
 alone is omniscient, had reserved to himself,) contrary to the 
 dictates of the holy Spirit, and the received opinion of the 
 councils and fathers. 
 
 Nor can I account for the manifest partiality of some 
 great men in favour of Dr. Sherlock ; especially of Dr. Stil- 
 lingfleet, then bishop of Worcester, a person every way 
 qualified for the high dignity he was invested with, and of 
 a most excelling judgment in all points of human and divine 
 literature; who though, in his preface to his Vindication of the 
 Trinity, quotes this sentence against the manner of the treat- 
 ment the two antagonists gave each other ; viz. Oderit rixas 
 etjurgia, prczsertimque inter eruditos, ac turpe esse dicebat, 
 viros indubitate doctos canina rabie famam vicissim suam 
 rodere ac lacerare scriptis trucibus, tanquam vilissimos de 
 plebe cerdones in angiportis sese luto ac stercore conspurcan- 
 tes. Nic. Rigalt. Vit. P. Puteani, p. 48. i. e. " He ever hated 
 " broils and opprobrious language, especially among the 
 " learned ; and said, it was a very odious and unseemly thing, 
 " for men, who were undoubtedly renowned for knowledge 
 " and understanding, to insult and tear to pieces each other's 
 " reputations, in their inhuman writings, with a canine fury, 
 " not unfitly compared to cobblers sprung from the vilest 
 " dregs of the people, bespattering each other in lanes and
 
 xc MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " narrow passages with dirt and dung." This inclines very 
 much to the part of that author, (viz. Dr. Sherlock,) who, in 
 Dr. South's words, was not only the aggressor, but the trans- 
 gressor too, as may be seen from a view of that book itself, 
 who, howsoever learned, and seemingly intended against the 
 Socinians, will appear to be a mere brutum fulmen in that 
 respect, and to fall heaviest upon their very enemies. 
 
 This Dr. South was very accurately apprised of ; and not- 
 withstanding his great deference for his lordship's unques- 
 tionable skill in polemical and casuistical divinity, joined to 
 his obedience to the royal mandate and the episcopal order, 
 held his hands from entering the lists with him in a contro- 
 versial way, he could not but have a fling at them both, in a 
 dedication to Narcissus Boyle, archbishop of Dublin d ; where, 
 amongst other remarkable passages, are to be found what fol- 
 low : " Surely, 11 says he, " it would be thought a very odd way 
 " of ridding a man of the plague by running him through 
 " with a sword ; or of curing him of a lethargy by casting 
 " him into a calenture ; a disease of a contrary nature in- 
 " deed, but no less fatal to the patient; who equally dies, 
 " whether his sickness or his physic, the malignity of his 
 " distemper or the method of his cure, despatches him. And 
 " in like manner must it fare with a church, which, feeling 
 " itself struck with the poison of Socinianism, flies to Tri- 
 " theism for an antidote. 
 
 " But at length happily steps in the royal authority to 
 " the church's relief, with several healing injunctions in its 
 " hands, for the composing and ending the disputes about 
 " the Trinity then on foot ; and those indeed so wisely 
 " framed, so seasonably timed, and (by the king, at least,) 
 " so graciously intended, that they must, in all likelihood, 
 " (without any other Irenicon,) have restored peace to the 
 " church, had it not been for the importunity and partiality 
 " of some, who having by the awe of these injunctions en- 
 " deavoured to silence the opposite party, (which by their 
 " arguments they could not do,) and -withal looking upon 
 A See vol. ii. p. 226.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xci 
 
 " themselves as privileged persons, and so above those or- 
 " dinances which others were to be subject to, resolved not 
 " to be silent themselves ; but renewing the contest, partly 
 " by throwing Muggleton and Rigaltius, with some other 
 " foul stuff, in their adversaries' faces; and partly by a 
 " shameless reprinting (without the least reinforcing) the 
 " same exploded tritheistic notions again and again, they 
 " quite broke through the royal prohibitions, and soon after 
 " began to take as great a liberty in venting their inno- 
 " vations and invectives, as ever they had done before ; so 
 " that he, who shall impartially consider the course taken 
 " by these men with reference to those engaged on the 
 " other side of this controversy about the Trinity, will find 
 " that their whole proceeding in it resembles nothing so 
 " much, as a thief s binding the hands of an honest man 
 " with a cord, much fitter for his own neck. 
 
 " But, blessed be God, matters stand not so with you in 
 " Ireland; the climate there being not more impatient of 
 " poisonous animals, than the church of poisonous opi- 
 " nions : an universal concurrent orthodoxy shining all over 
 " it, from the superior clergy who preside, to the inferior 
 " placed, under them : so that we never hear from thence of 
 " any-presbyter, and much less of any dean, who dares in- 
 " novate upon the faith received : and least of all (should 
 " such a wretch chance to start up among you) can I hear 
 " of any bishop likely to debase his style and character so 
 " low, as either to defend the man, or colour over his 
 " opinions. Nor, lastly, do we find that in the judgment 
 " of the clergy there, a man's having wrote against one sort 
 " of heresy or heterodoxy, ought to justify or excuse him 
 " in writing for another, and much less for a worse." 
 
 His character likewise of high and low churchmen, in the 
 same dedication, highly deserve a place in these Memoirs ; 
 not only because they speak the sense and opinion of the 
 author, but impress upon the minds of disinterested and 
 impartial readers the same ideas which his was filled with : 
 " Those of the ancienter members of her (viz. the church
 
 xcii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 " of England's) communion, who have all along owned and 
 " contended for a strict conformity to her rules and sanc- 
 " tions, as the surest course to establish her, have been of 
 " late represented, or rather reprobated, under the inodi- 
 " ating character of high churchmen, and thereby stand 
 " marked out for all the discouragement that spite and 
 " power together can pass upon them; while those of the 
 " contrary way and principle are distinguished, or rather 
 " sanctified, by the fashionable endearing name of low 
 " churchmen, not from their affecting, we may be sure, a 
 " lower condition in the church than others, (since none lie 
 " so low but they can look as high,) but from the low con- 
 " dition which the authors of this distinction would fain 
 " bring the church itself into, a work in which they have 
 " made no small progress already. And thus by these un- 
 " generous, as well as unconscionable practices, a fatal rent 
 " and division is made amongst us : and, being so, I think 
 " those of the concision who made it, would do well to con- 
 " sider, whether that, which our Saviour assures us will 
 " destroy a kingdom, be the likeliest way to settle and sup- 
 " port a church. But I question not but these dividers will 
 " very shortly receive thanks from the Papists for the good 
 " services they have done them ; and in the mean time they 
 " may be sure of their scoff's."" 
 
 Much about this time, the doctor's unwearied application 
 to his studies brought upon him the bloody flux, which was 
 followed by the strangury, that scarce left him, but for some 
 transitory releases from it, to his last moments ; yet, notwith- 
 standing the uneasiness this must needs give him, he still 
 kept up his sprightliness and vivacity of temper with the 
 few friends he conversed with, which were always well 
 chosen ; and so far was he from deserving the character of 
 a morose and reserved person by a certain author, (who 
 said, that the sourness of his disposition, which made him 
 unfit for conversation, made him a scholar,) that whosoever 
 was once in his company, went off with such a relish of his 
 wit and good humour, as to covet the coming into it, though
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xciii 
 
 at the expense of bearing a part in the subject of his raillery. 
 So that what was said of Horace, might on as just grounds 
 be worked into his character : 
 
 ridentem Flaccus amicum 
 
 Tang-it, et admissus circum prcvcordia ludit. 
 
 During the greatest part of the reign of queen Anne, he 
 was in a state of inactivity ; and the infirmities of old age 
 growing fast upon him, he performed very little of the du- 
 ties of the ministerial function, otherwise than, when his 
 health would allow of his going to the abbey church at 
 Westminster, to be present at divine service; though he 
 would take a journey sometimes to his seat near Reading, 
 having always two chairmen attending his coach to take him 
 out, when he was uneasy through the means of his indispo- 
 sition before mentioned, and carry him in the chair ; for 
 which service he was so bountiful, as constantly to allow 
 them ten pounds for the journey. 
 
 Notwithstanding his ill state of health, he continued his- 
 wonted recourse to books, and the improvement of his mind, 
 (which had a sufficient magazine of learning before,) almost 
 to the day of his death ; and it was with great difficulty that 
 his surgeon, who had the cure of a sore leg two or three 
 years since under hand, prevailed on him not to creep into 
 his study too often ; which yet he could not refrain. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding all these impediments to activity 
 and motion, none shewed a greater concern for the church, 
 when he judged it to be in danger : he was unwearied in 
 his application to many of the lords spiritual and temporal, 
 to be mild and gentle in their sentence against Dr. Sa- 
 cheverell, whose trial came on in 1710, and who is highly 
 indebted to him for a very successful advocate. 
 
 Upon the change of the ministry, when Mr. Bromley, an 
 illustrious and truly honest patriot, came to preside at helm, 
 in the post of one of her late majesty ""s principal secretaries 
 of state, the Dr. was again solicited and courted to accept of 
 higher dignities of the church, and to become one of the 
 fathers of it, that had been so very dutiful a son ; more
 
 xciv MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 especially when the see of Rochester and deanery of West- 
 minster was vacant by the death of the learned and pious 
 Dr. Sprat ; but he returned for answer, " that such a chair 
 " would be too uneasy for an old, infirm man to sit in, and 
 " he held himself much better satisfied with living upon the 
 " eaves-droppings of the church, than to fare sumptuously, 
 " by being placed at the pinnacle of it :" (alluding to his 
 house, that was adjoining to the abbey.) So that very 
 worthy and hearty lover and assertor of the doctrines of the 
 church of England, Dr. Francis Atterbury, then dean of 
 Christ Church in Oxford, was pitched upon by her late 
 most sacred majesty to fill those two stalls, as bishop and 
 dean. In the month of June, 1713, which gave occasion to 
 the doctor, though he had a great esteem for the new dean's 
 parts and person, when a gentleman asked him concerning 
 the state of his health, to say, " Within an inch of the 
 " grave, no doubt ; since I have lived to see a gentleman 
 " who was born the very year in which I was made one of 
 " the prebendaries of this church, appointed to be the dean of 
 " it." This gave occasion to several persons, who were not 
 acquainted with the doctor's way of talk, to suggest, that 
 Dr. South took the gift of preferments away from those 
 views in disgust ; but the truth is on the contrary side ; for 
 the doctor received visits from the bishop to his dying day, 
 and made it amongst other requests, that at his burial my 
 lord of Rochester might perform the last office. 
 
 On the death of queen Anne, of immortal and ever 
 blessed memory, the doctor told a friend of his, that was 
 wont to visit him once or twice a week, " that it was time 
 " for him to prepare for his journey to a blessed immor- 
 " tality ; since all that was good and gracious, and the very 
 " breath of his nostrils, had made its departure to the re- 
 " gions of bliss and eternal happiness.' 1 
 
 Accordingly, he began thenceforward to set his house in 
 order, and to provide for the further good of posterity, as 
 will be seen by his generous benefactions. 
 
 In the year 1715, he published a fourth volume of ex- 
 cellent sermons, which he inscribed to Mr. Bromley in the
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xcv 
 
 following remarkable manner : " To the right honourable 
 " William Bromley, esquire, some time speaker of the ho- 
 " nourable house of commons, and after that, principal 
 " secretary of state to her majesty queen Anne, of ever 
 " blessed memory ; in both stations great and eminent ; 
 " but in nothing greater than in and from himself; Robert 
 " South, his most devoted servant, humbly offers and pre- 
 " sents this fourth volume of his sermons, as the last and 
 " best testimony he can give of the high esteem and sincere 
 " affection which he, the author of them, bears, and ever 
 " must and shall bear, to that excellent person." 
 
 The next thing he had to do, was to shew his zeal and 
 gratitude for and to the family of the late duke of Ormond, 
 (who had unhappily forfeited his title by a bill of attainder 
 in parliament,) in causing himself to be brought in a chair 
 to the election of a new high steward, vacant upon the for- 
 feiture of his said late grace. The candidates were the duke 
 of Newcastle and the earl of Arran, the late duke's only 
 brother, who had lost his election, had not Dr. South (who 
 was in a manner bedridden) made the voices of the pre- 
 bendaries equal, by saying very briskly, when he was 
 asked whom he would vote for, 
 
 " Heart and hand for my lord Arran." 
 So that the dean, who had the casting vote, determined 
 the choice in his lordship's favour. 
 
 This being the last time he went abroad, it is easy to 
 imagine, that weakness, the attendant upon old age, made 
 very quick advances towards his dissolution, which happened 
 on Sunday the 8th day of July, 1716. 
 
 Four days after his decease, the corpse having for some 
 time lain in a decent manner in the Jerusalem chamber, was 
 brought into the college hall, where a Latin oration was 
 spoken by Mr. John Barber, captain of the king's scholars. 
 Thence it was attended by the bishop of Rochester, with 
 the prebendaries who were in town, the masters, the scholars, 
 the whole choir, and all the servants belonging to that royal 
 foundation, with many worthy members of the university and 
 college of Christ Church in Oxford. Upon their entry into the
 
 xcvi MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 abbey, the choir performed the part of the funeral service 
 till the body was placed in the area of the church ; after 
 which followed evening prayers, and an anthem suitable to 
 the occasion, the same which was sung at the interment of 
 her majesty, composed by Dr. William Croft. Prayers being 
 ended, the corpse was attended in the same manner to the 
 grave, near the steps of the altar, adjoining to the late Dr. 
 Busby's : where the choir performed the last part of the ser- 
 vice ; the right reverend the dean reading the Burial Office 
 with such affection and devotion, as shewed his concern for 
 the inestimable loss that church had sustained by the death 
 of so valuable a person. 
 
 Having brought the remains of this great and good man 
 with peace to the grave, we shall conclude these memoirs 
 with giving his character, as drawn up by an eminent 
 hand e : " This learned gentleman, 1 ' 1 says he, speaking of Dr. 
 South, " had a talent of making all his faculties bear to the 
 " great end of his hallowed profession. His charming dis- 
 " courses have in them whatever wit and wisdom can put 
 " together. Happy genius ! He was the better man for 
 " being a wit."" His judgment (says another) was pene- 
 trating, and his knowledge extensive ; he did honour to his 
 age and country; I could almost say, to human nature it- 
 self. He possessed at once all those extraordinary ta- 
 lents that were divided amongst the greatest authors of 
 antiquity ; he had the sound, distinct, comprehensive know- 
 ledge of Aristotle, with all the beautiful lights, graces, and 
 embellishments of Cicero. One does not know which to ad- 
 mire most in his writings, the strength of reason, force of 
 style, or brightness of imagination. As to the latter part of 
 his character, his actions : he was not only a son, but a father 
 to the church of England ; sincere and hearty to her friends, 
 and ever bold and undaunted in the defence of truth and 
 loyalty; wherein his arguments were so solid and nervous, 
 that as few have come near him, so none have excelled him ; 
 insomuch, that while he was possessed of TertulliaiTs oratory 
 and force of persuasion, he was invested and clothed with 
 Tatler, No. 205.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. xcvii 
 
 St. Cyprian's devotion and humility. He was a true friend 
 to monarchy, even when rebellion was successful, and faction 
 meritorious. His charity to the poor was very liberal, and 
 the greatest part of it industriously concealed ; having our 
 Saviour's prohibition, of letting not his light shine before 
 men, always in remembrance ; whereby we may be assured, 
 that he found greater satisfaction in the duty, than he 
 could propose from the title of a generous benefactor. To 
 describe him fully ought only to be attempted by a person 
 that is blessed with such a share of wit and devotion as he 
 enjoyed. A writer & above mentioned says, " that the best 
 " way to praise him, is to quote him."" In all his writings 
 will be found the divine, the orator, the casuist, and the 
 Christian : the latter shines nowhere more conspicuous than 
 in that excellent description which he has given us in one 
 of his sermons ; wherein, having shewn the virtue of a good 
 conscience in supporting a man under the greatest trials and 
 difficulties of life, he concludes with representing its force 
 and efficacy in the hour of death. 
 
 " The last instance," says he, " in which, above all others, 
 " this confidence towards God does most eminently shew 
 " and exert itself, is at the time of death ; which surely 
 " gives the 'grand opportunity of trying both the strength 
 " and worth of every principle. When a man shall be just 
 " about to quit the stage of this world, to put off his mor- 
 " tality, and to deliver up his last accounts to God ; at 
 " which sad time, his memory shall serve him for little else, 
 " but to terrify him with a frightful review of his past life, 
 " and his former extravagances stripped of all their plea- 
 " sure, but retaining their guilt : what is it then, that 
 " can promise him a fair passage into the other world, 
 " or a comfortable appearance before his dreadful Judge, 
 " when he is there ? Not all the friends and interests, all 
 " the riches and honours under heaven, can speak so much 
 ^ as a word for him, or one word of comfort to him in that 
 " condition : they may possibly reproach, but they cannot 
 " relieve him. 
 
 t Tatler, No. 205. 
 VOL. I. h
 
 xcviii MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF DR. SOUTH. 
 
 " No ; at this disconsolate time, when the busy tempter 
 " shall be more than usually apt to vex and trouble him, 
 " and the pains of a dying body to hinder and discompose 
 " him, and the settlement of worldly affairs to disturb and 
 " confound him; and, in a word, all things conspire to 
 " make his sick bed grievous and uneasy : nothing can then 
 " stand up against all these ruins, and speak life in the 
 " midst of death, but a clear conscience. 
 
 " And the testimony of that shall make the comforts of 
 " heaven descend upon his weary head, like a refreshing 
 " dew or shower upon a parched ground. It shall give 
 " him some lively earnests and secret anticipations of his 
 " approaching joy. It shall bid his soul go out of the body 
 " undauntedly, and lift up its head with confidence before 
 " saints and angels. Surely the comfort which it conveys 
 " at this season is something bigger than the capacities of 
 " mortality, mighty and unspeakable, and not to be under- 
 " stood, till it comes to be felt. 
 
 " And now, who would not quit all the pleasures, and 
 " trash, and trifles, which are apt to captivate the heart of 
 " man, and pursue the greatest rigours of piety, and aus- 
 " terities of a good life, to purchase to himself such a con- 
 " science, as, at the hour of death, when all the friendships of 
 " the world shall bid him adieu, and the whole creation 
 " turn its back upon him, shall dismiss the soul, and close 
 " his eyes with that blessed sentence, Well done, iliou good 
 " and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy 
 " Lord?"* 
 
 * Vol. ii. p. 222, 223.
 
 [ xcix ] 
 
 In the south aisle of Westminster-abbey, joining to Dr. 
 Busby's, is erected a very noble marble monument to 
 the memory of Dr. South, with his effigies in a cumbent 
 posture, containing the following inscription : 
 
 Ab hoc baud procul marmore, 
 Juxta Praeceptoris BUSBEII cineres, suos conquiesccre voluit 
 
 ROBERTUS SOUTH, S. T. P. 
 
 Vir Eruditione, Pietate, Moribus antiquis, 
 
 Scholae Westmonasteriensis, deinde /Edis Christi Alumnus. 
 
 Et post restauratum CAROLUM, magno favente CLARENDONO, 
 
 Utriusque in quo sensim adoleverat Collegii Prebendarius, 
 Ecclesiae Anglicanae et florentis et afflictae Propugnator assiduus, 
 
 Fidei Cbristianae Vindex acerrimus. 
 
 In Conciouibus novo quodam et plane suo, 
 
 Sed illustri, sed admirabili dicendi genere excellens ; 
 
 Ut harum rerum peritis dubitandi sit locus, 
 
 Utrum ingenii acumine an argumentorum vi, 
 
 Utrum doctrinse ubertate, an splendore verborum et pondere praestaret : 
 
 Hisce certe omnibus simul instructus adjumentis 
 Animos audientium non tenuit tantum, sed percelluit, inflammavit. 
 
 Erat ille humaniorum Literarum et primasvae Theologiae, cum paucis, sciens; 
 In Scholasticorum interim Scriptis idem versatissimus, 
 
 E quibus quod sanum est et succulenturn expressit, 
 Idque a rerum futilium disquisitione et Vocabulorum involucris liberatum, 
 
 , Luculenta oratione illustravit. 
 
 Si quango vel in rerum, vel in hominuru, vitia acerbius est invectus, 
 
 Ne hoc aut partium studio, aut Naturae cuidam asperitati tribuatur, 
 
 Earn quippe is de rebus omnibus sententiam aperte protulit, 
 
 Quam ex maturo Animi sui Judicio amplexus est: 
 
 Et cum esset Ipse suse Integritatis conscius, 
 
 Quicquid in Vita turpe, quicquid in Religione fucatum fictumque viderat, 
 Illud omne liberrima indignatione commotus profligavit. 
 
 His intentus Studiis, base animo semper agitans, 
 
 Hominum a consortio cum esset remotior, auxilio tamcn non defuit. 
 
 Quam cnim benignum,quam misericordem in calamitosos animum gesserit, 
 
 Largis Muneribus vivens moriensque testatus est. 
 
 Upon the Pedestal. 
 
 Apud ISLIVAM Ecclesiae Sacrarium et Rectoris Doraum de integro extruxit, 
 
 Ibidem Scholam erudiendis pauperum liberis instituit et dotavit. Literis et 
 
 hie loci, et apud JEdem Christi promovendis, jEdificiis istius Collegii 
 
 instaurandis, libras millenas in nuineratis pecuniis, ter centenas 
 
 circiter Annui reditus, ex Testamento reliquit. Pietatis erga Deum, 
 
 benevolentise erga homines Monumenta in aeternum mansura. 
 
 Obiit Jul. 8. An. Dora. MDCCXVI. ;Et. Ixxxii. 
 h 2
 
 A TRUE COPY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE REV. DR. SOUTH. 
 
 DRAWN UP BY HIMSELF. 
 
 IN the name of God, Amen. I Robert South, prebendary 
 of the collegiate church of St. Peter in Westminster, and 
 doctor in divinity, being well in health, and of good and 
 perfect memory; God be thanked for the same; do make 
 this my last will and testament in manner and form fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 First, I recommend my soul to my most merciful God ; 
 my body to the earth, there to be buried in such decent 
 manner, neither sumptuous nor sordid, as my executrix, 
 hereafter to be named, shall think fit. And as touching 
 such worldly estate as God hath blessed me with, I give 
 and dispose of the same as followeth. 
 
 Imprimis, I give and bequeath to Robert South, gent, 
 my nephew by the half blood, all my messuages, lands, te- 
 nements, and hereditaments, descended to me by and from 
 my father, and now rented by Elizabeth Brookes, widow of 
 John Brookes, husbandman, lately deceased, at seventy-five 
 pounds per annum, situate and being in Whittley, com- 
 monly called the hamlets of Whittley, in the parish of St. 
 Giles in Reading, in the county of Berks, to have and to 
 hold the same to him and his heirs for ever. 
 
 Provided always, and upon condition nevertheless, that 
 the said Robert South my nephew, and his heirs, do and 
 shall, within two years next after my decease, pay or cause 
 
 h3
 
 cii THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 to be paid unto Mrs. Elizabeth Kirkland, and to Mrs. Ra- 
 chael Partridge, my nieces by the half blood, and sisters to 
 the said Robert South, the sum of three hundred pounds 
 apiece of lawful money of Great Britain, together with in- 
 terest for the same from my decease, at the rate of five 
 pounds per centum per annum. And also to pay or cause 
 to be paid to Mrs. Rachael Taylor, only daughter of Mrs. 
 Jane Taylor, one of my three nieces by the half blood, and 
 sister to the said Robert South, my nephew, the further sum 
 of three hundred pounds of like lawful money, together 
 with interest for the same from my decease, at the rate of 
 five pounds per cent, per annum. Upon this further con- 
 dition nevertheless, that he the said Robert South my ne- 
 phew, or his heirs, do or shall, within two years, or three at 
 most, next after my decease, pay, or cause to be paid, to 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Morris, and to Mrs. Elizabeth Terry, now 
 or late in Antigua in the West Indies, and both of them 
 daughters or granddaughters to Mrs. Joan Hall, several 
 years since deceased, and one of my sisters by the half blood, 
 or to the children of the said Elizabeth Morris and Elizabeth 
 Terry respectively, in case those their mothers should not be 
 living at the time of my decease, the sum of four hundred 
 pounds of like lawful money, together with interest for the 
 same from the time of my decease, at the rate of five 
 pounds per cent, per annum, in manner following : that is 
 to say, unto the said Elizabeth Morris, if at that time living, 
 or if then dead, to such of her children as shall be then liv- 
 ing ; or in default of such children, to her executors or ad- 
 ministrators ; the sum of three hundred pounds, together 
 with the yearly interest thereof at five pounds per cent, per 
 annum, as before expressed : and likewise the remaining sum 
 of one hundred pounds, with the like interest for the same, 
 to the said Elizabeth Terry, though she never yet took the 
 least notice of me by letter or otherwise, if she shall be liv- 
 ing at the time of my decease ; or if then dead, to such of 
 her children as shall be then living at the time of it ; or in 
 default of such children, to her executors or administrators. 
 And I do hereby charge all my said lands, messuages, te-
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. ciii 
 
 nements, and hereditaments in Whittley aforesaid, descended 
 to me from my father, with the payment of the said several 
 sums of three hundred pounds, and three hundred pounds, 
 and three hundred pounds, and four hundred pounds, and 
 the interest thereof, as aforesaid declared : and these are the 
 conditions on which I give my said estate in Whittley in 
 Berks, &c. to my nephew Robert South above mentioned, 
 and upon no other conditions or terms whatsoever. 
 
 Item, I give and bequeath to Mrs. Margaret Hammond, 
 my housekeeper, and widow or relict of Mr. Edward Ham- 
 mond, clerk, deceased, all my messuages or tenements situ- 
 ate and being in and near Holyday-yard in London, which 
 I hold by lease from the dean and chapter of St. Paul's in 
 London aforesaid, to hold the same unto the said Mrs. Mar- 
 garet Hammond, her executors, administrators, and assigns, 
 for and during the residue of the term of years which I 
 shall have to come therein at the time of my death ; though 
 I could and do most heartily wish, that at or before her 
 death she would give and settle the same to some charitable 
 use for ever : and this to the great honour of Almighty God, 
 the benefit of the public, to my own great satisfaction, the 
 good of her own soul, and the just reputation of us to all 
 posterity. 
 
 Item, I give and bequeath to the said Mrs. Margaret 
 Hammond all my lands, messuages, tenements, or heredita- 
 ments, in or bordering upon the parish of Cavesham, alias Ca- 
 versham, in the county of Oxori ; and also all my messuages, 
 lands, tenements, and hereditaments, being copyhold estate 
 of inheritance in the manor of Cantlors, alias Cantlow, in 
 Kentish-town in the county of Middlesex, to have and to 
 hold the said messuages, lands, tenements, and heredita- 
 ments, both in Cavesham, alias Caversham, and in Kentish- 
 town aforesaid, unto the said Mrs. Margaret Hammond, 
 and her assigns, during her natural life, without impeach- 
 ment of or for any manner of waste whatsoever, done or 
 committed during her time of widowhood or single life only, 
 which from my heart I desire she would continue in to her 
 life's end ; and that for her own sake and interest, as well as
 
 civ THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 my satisfaction, for that otherwise neither she nor I can tell 
 what havock an husband will make upon the premises, nor 
 what, if there be no such check upon him, can prevent his 
 making it : and since my chief design here is charity, im- 
 mediately after the death of Mrs. Margaret Hammond afore- 
 said, my housekeeper, I give and bequeath my two fore- 
 mentioned estates, viz. one in Kentish-town in the county of 
 Middlesex, and the other in Cavesham, alias Caversham, in 
 the county of Oxford aforesaid, to the reverend the dean 
 and chapter of the cathedral and collegiate church of Christ 
 in Oxon, and to their successors after them for ever ; never- 
 theless in trust only, and for the uses ^following ; namely, 
 that out of the revenue of the said two estates, all repairs, 
 taxes, and other necessary duties and expenses chargeable 
 upon or incident to the same, shall by the said dean and 
 chapter of Christ Church in Oxon, and their successors for 
 ever, be still from time to time paid off and discharged. 
 And further upon trust also, that after a due performance 
 of this, the said dean and chapter of Christ Church, and 
 their successors for ever, shall likewise from time to time 
 pay out of the rents, issues, and profits of the premises, to 
 and amongst certain vicars, curates, and incumbents for the 
 time being, of the several vicarages and places herein after- 
 mentioned, ten pounds apiece yearly for ever. 
 
 Viz. Ten pounds yearly to the vicar of Southstoke cum 
 capellis in the county of Oxon, for the time being. 
 
 Item, The like sum of ten pounds yearly to the vicar of 
 Norton Broyn, alias Brise Norton, in the county of Oxon, 
 for the time being. 
 
 Item, To the vicar of East Garsdon in the county of 
 Berks for the time being, the like yearly sum of ten pounds 
 for ever. 
 
 Item, To the vicar of Nethersoll in the county of Glou- 
 cester for the time being, the like yearly sum of ten pounds 
 for ever. 
 
 Item, To the vicar of Ardington in the county of Berks 
 for the time being, the like yearly sum of ten pounds for 
 ever.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. cv 
 
 Item, To the vicar of Cerleton in the county of Wilts 
 for the time being, the like yearly sum of ten pounds for 
 ever. 
 
 Item, To the vicar of Little Compton in the county of 
 Oxon for the time being, the like sum of ten pounds yearly 
 for ever. 
 
 Item, To the curate of Drayton in the same county of 
 Oxon for the time being, the like sum of ten pounds yearly 
 for ever. 
 
 Item, To the curate of South Littleton in the county of 
 Worcester for the time being, the like yearly sum of ten 
 pounds for ever. 
 
 And to the curate of Offenham in the same county of 
 Worcester for the time being, the like sum of ten pounds 
 yearly for ever. 
 
 And to the curate of Stratton Audley in the county of 
 Oxon for the time being, ten pounds yearly for ever. 
 
 And lastly, to the vicar or curate of Dorchester in the 
 said county of Oxon, and seven miles from the city of Oxon, 
 for the time being, the like sum of ten pounds yearly for 
 ever. To all and every one of which the said persons I give 
 and bequeath the forementioned yearly sum of ten pounds, 
 free fr^jm all deductions and abatements for or by reason 
 of taxes, or any other duties chargeable upon the premises 
 whatsoever, to be paid them by the dean and chapter of 
 Christ Church, and their successors for ever, at or upon the 
 two most usual feasts; that is to say, on the feast of the 
 Annunciation of the blessed Virgin Mary, and of St. Michael 
 the archangel, by even and equal portions; and the first 
 payment thereof to be accordingly made on the first of the 
 said festivals which shall next and immediately follow the 
 decease of my executrix. And my will also is, that in case 
 the yearly rents and profits arising out of the premises so 
 given to the dean and chapter of Christ Church, and their 
 successors, should in any year happen to fall short of satis- 
 fying the said sum of ten pounds to each of the said vicars, 
 curates, and incumbents aforesaid for the time being ; then, 
 and so often as this shall happen, there shall be an equal
 
 cvi THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 and proportionable abatement or deduction made out of every 
 one of the said salaries or allowances. But if again, on the 
 other side, it should in any following year or years so fall 
 out, (as no doubt it will,) that there shall be more arising out 
 of the yearly rents, incomes, and profits of the said premises 
 so given to the dean and chapter of Christ Church, Oxon, 
 and their successors, than what is sufficient to answer and 
 satisfy the said yearly stipends and annuities, then my will 
 is, that all deficiencies so happening in any former year or 
 years shall be made up and supplied to the said vicars and 
 incumbents out of such overplus. And further my will by 
 all means is, that if any of the vicars, curates, or incumbents 
 receiving this my charitable benefaction, shall be convicted 
 of, at the mouth of two or more witnesses, or generally noted 
 for, though not formally convicted thereof by witnesses, 
 any thing grossly immoral, as whoredom, fornication, drun- 
 kenness, or common swearing, or any thing scandalous, or 
 against the Act of Uniformity or rule of the church of Eng- 
 land, such as are preaching in or going to any conventicle, 
 or meeting of dissenters from the church of England, for 
 religious worship ; that then, and in every such and the like 
 case, the stipend, annuity, or pension allotted or given to 
 such vicar, curate, or incumbent, shall forthwith cease, and 
 the person or persons so guilty be utterly deprived of the 
 same for ever : and that it be from time to time paid to such 
 vicars, curates, or incumbents, as shall be so qualified as in 
 the premises has been expressed, and shall be personally 
 known to the dean himself, or to any one or more of the 
 prebendaries of Christ Church, Oxon, aforesaid, for the time 
 being, to be of a sober, unblameable life, and of strict con- 
 formity to the church of England, as now by law established. 
 Finally, my positive will is, that the said dean and chapter 
 of Christ Church, Oxon, and their successors, do and shall, 
 after the yearly payments made to the twelve vicars, curates, 
 or incumbents before mentioned, pay all the overplus of the 
 money remaining of the yearly rents and profits of those my 
 two estates bequeathed to the dean and chapter of Christ 
 Church, Oxon, and their successors, to six poor scholars for
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. cvii 
 
 ever, twenty nobles apiece, by even and equal portions, on 
 the two forementioned festivals; and that the said poor 
 scholars be all of them of Christ Church in Oxon, but bred 
 and brought up in Westminster school, commonly called the 
 king's or queen's school there. And those likewise to be of 
 the sole choice and nomination of the dean and chapter of 
 Christ Church, and their successors for ever. And my will 
 and mind is, that when the said pensions or annuities shall 
 have been paid, both to the ministers and poor scholars 
 before mentioned, and all taxes and duties chargeable upon 
 the premises cleared off, whatsoever money shall remain out 
 of the rents and profits of my said two estates shall be 
 wholly applied towards the finishing of the new buildings 
 now carried on in Christ church and college in Oxon 
 aforesaid. And now whereas I have bestowed a consider- 
 able part of my estate in erecting and endowing, at my sole 
 charge and expense, a school in the parish of Islip in the 
 county of Oxon, and by a particular deed vested the same 
 in the dean and chapter of St. Peter's church in Westmin- 
 ster, but yet nevertheless for the sole support, maintenance, 
 and benefit of the said school ; I do by these presents fully 
 ratify and confirm the said deed of settlement in the said 
 dean and chapter of St. Peter in Westminster, and their 
 successors for ever, to and for all the trusts, uses, and con- 
 ditions therein mentioned and contained. But to proceed. 
 And I do herein, in the first place, give and bequeath to 
 the dean and chapter of Christ Church in Oxon, and to 
 their successors for ever, the full sum of five hundred 
 pounds of good and lawful money of Great Britain, but so 
 that the same be laid out by them in purchasing the per- 
 petual advowson of a good living for one of the students 
 of that college successively, who shall profess the study of 
 divinity. And my will is, that the said sum be paid them 
 by my executrix within five years after my decease. In the 
 next place, I give also to the dean and chapter of the church 
 of St. Asaph, &c. in North Wales, the sum of one hundred 
 pounds of like lawful money of Great Britain, but still in 
 trust, and upon condition only that the said sum be laid out
 
 cviii THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 by them for the apprenticing out twenty poor youths, born 
 in the parish of Llanchaiadar in Mochnant aforesaid, to good 
 honest trades, by five pounds apiece. And my will is, that 
 the said sum of one hundred pounds be paid them by my 
 executrix, when she shall have received of Mr. Robert Lloyd, 
 of Aston in Salop, my tenant, for the tithes of Llanchaiadar, 
 all that shall be due to me from him on that account; 
 and not otherwise, nor before the full receipt thereof. 
 
 Item, I give and bequeath the sum of one hundred pounds 
 of the like lawful money of Great Britain to the chancellor, 
 doctors, and masters of arts of the university of Oxon, for the 
 use and benefit of the public library of that place, and the 
 buying into it such modern authors of principal note, as the 
 vice-chancellor and head library-keeper for the time being 
 shall judge both most useful and most wanting there. Like- 
 wise I give the sum of two hundred pounds of the like law- 
 ful current money of Great Britain to twenty poor ejected 
 clergymen, non-jurors ; and those at the sole choice and no- 
 mination of Mrs. Margaret Hammond, my executrix, to be 
 distributed to them by ten pounds apiece. 
 
 Item, I give the like sum of two hundred pounds of the 
 like current money as aforesaid to forty poor ministers 1 wi- 
 dows, and those also of the sole choice and nomination of 
 my aforementioned executrix, to be distributed to them by 
 five pounds apiece; willing withal, and hereby requiring, 
 that both the said clergymen and clergymen's widows now 
 mentioned be respectively paid the several sums here allotted 
 them, within the term of two years at the utmost after my 
 decease. Also I give and bequeath to the governors of the 
 grey coat hospital here in Tuthill-fields, Westminster, the 
 sum of one hundred pounds of the like lawful money as be- 
 foresaid, for and towards the maintenance of the poor chil- 
 dren taught and bred up there. And here to look a little 
 back again upon my affairs in Christ Church : whereas 
 I have for several years last past, at a constant yearly 
 salary, employed one Mr. Thomas Rookes, verger of Christ 
 Church in Oxon, in managing my accounts, and some 
 other of my concerns in and about Oxon, I give him the sum
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. cix 
 
 of twenty guineas, to be delivered to him by my executrix, 
 after he has paid into her hands all monies which shall have 
 been owing from him to me, and given back all papers and 
 keys belonging to me, and cleared all accounts between him 
 and me, to the full satisfaction of my said executrix, and 
 not before, nor otherwise. And as for some other charities 
 to the poor, I give as followeth : 
 
 Imprimis, I give and bequeath one hundred pounds of 
 good and lawful money of Great Britain to fifty poor house- 
 keepers or widows, those of clergymen only excepted, as 
 having been before in this my will provided for, within the 
 city of Westminster, to be distributed to them by Mrs. 
 Margaret Hammond, my housekeeper and executrix, by 
 forty shillings apiece ; and the said housekeepers and widows 
 to be all of them at the sole choice and nomination of the 
 said Mrs. Margaret Hammond ; but still such as shall be 
 truly conformable to our church, as now by law established, 
 and diligent attenders upon the service and worship thereof, 
 either at Westminster-abbey, which I most like, or in some 
 parish church thereabouts : and this I would have done 
 as speedily as it can with any tolerable convenience be after 
 my funeral. Also to the poor of the parish of Cavesham, 
 alias Qaversham, in Oxfordshire, where I have dwelt for 
 many years last past, I give ten pounds, having been all 
 along very liberal to that place, and the poor thereof, during 
 all the time I spent there. And to the poor of the town and 
 parish of I slip in the county of Oxford also ; to which I have 
 been a constant and (as they themselves very well know) no 
 ordinary benefactor. I give five pounds to the poor of the 
 parish of Hackney in the county of Middlesex, near Lon- 
 don, where I was born and baptized. I give five pounds 
 likewise to the poor of the place where I shall happen to be 
 buried ; (in case it proves to be none of those three places 
 just now mentioned, I also give five pounds, but not other- 
 wise.) And all these sums I will to be distributed by my ex- 
 ecutrix accordingly, and as soon as with what possible expe- 
 dition it can. And I give moreover to my servant, Clement 
 Apthorp of Bedfordshire, the sum of fifty pounds, provided
 
 ex THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 he be actually in my service at the time of my decease. 
 And I give also to him and the rest of my domestic servants 
 continuing to serve me to that time, to each of them a suit 
 of mourning, but so that the said mourning be bought and 
 provided for them only by my executrix Mrs. Anne Ham- 
 mond, and not otherwise. And not to forget here one 
 who had lived in my service formerly, I give to Mrs. 
 Grace Day, and to her son John Day, an apprentice in 
 London, the sum of five pounds apiece, in remembrance of 
 me. And now after all, for the better and surer perform- 
 ance of all these foregoing particulars, I do hereby consti- 
 tute and appoint my housekeeper, Mrs. Margaret Hammond, 
 sole executrix of this my last will and testament ; she having 
 served me for now above these five and thirty years, and 
 that most faithfully and discreetly, having all along taken 
 the greatest care of my health that could be, and, under 
 God, more than once preserved my life, and rescued me 
 from imminent and certain death ; for which considerations, 
 as greater could not possibly be, having made her, as here I 
 do, my sole executrix, I do most heartily by these presents 
 give and bequeath to her as such, my whole and remaining 
 estate in money, plate, rings, jewels, and all my household- 
 stuff, books, leases, and writings of all sorts, with an assign- 
 ment from Mr. Gilbert Whitehall, citizen of London, to me 
 upon the Exchequer; and in a word, all my goods and 
 chattels whatsoever, not otherwise disposed of, or to be dis- 
 posed of and given away by this my will and testament, or by 
 any codicil annexed, or to be annexed to the same hereafter. 
 In witness whereof, and of all the premises in this my last will 
 and testament contained, and by which I utterly disannul 
 and make void all former wills at any time before made by 
 me, I do here set my hand and seal to the same, on this 
 thirtieth day of March, in the year of our Lord one thou- 
 sand seven hundred and fourteen, and of her present majes- 
 ty's reign the thirteenth, Robert South. Signed, sealed, 
 published, and declared by the said doctor Robert South, as 
 and for his last will and testament, in the presence of us 
 who have subscribed our names in the presence of him the
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. cxi 
 
 said doctor South ; the following words, viz. the word what,, 
 in page the third, line the thirteenth ; the words should be, 
 in page the fifth, line the sixteenth ; the word back, in page 
 the eighth, line the last; the words those of clergymen, in 
 page the ninth, line the fifth ; the word particulars, in page 
 the tenth, line the eighth : all of them in the places noted 
 being first interlined ; James Eales, Richard Nurse, John 
 Wai worth. 
 
 A Codicil to be annexed to my last will, and accounted as 
 part of it. 
 
 WHEREAS I Robert South, doctor in divinity, have at 
 several times past paid unto Mr. William Vernon, of West- 
 minster, gentleman, the sum of six hundred and seventeen 
 pounds thirteen shillings and ten pence, or thereabouts ; for 
 securing the repayment whereof with interest, the said Wil- 
 liam Vernon, by one or more deeds of assignment, did assign 
 unto Mrs. Margaret Hammond, of Westminster, widow, in 
 trust for me, a judgment obtained by him against dame Fran- 
 ces Atkins, widow, deceased, for the sum of nine hundred 
 and seventy-seven pounds debt, or some such sum, besides 
 cost of suit. Now I do give and bequeath all the monies 
 whichTnow are or shall become due to me upon the said 
 judgment and security, unto Mrs. Margaret Hammond, my 
 executrix, to her sole only and proper use and behoof for 
 ever. But nevertheless upon this condition, that the said 
 Mrs. Margaret Hammond, my executrix, do and shall, 
 within three, or at most five years after she shall have re- 
 ceived the same, pay unto the dean and chapter of Christ 
 Church in Oxford for the time being, the sum of five hun- 
 dred pounds for and towards their carrying on the buildings 
 of that church and college. And whereas moreover I Robert 
 South, doctor in divinity, on the seventh day of April, in 
 the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and 
 fourteen, purchased of one Henry Clements, bookseller in 
 St. Paul's churchyard in London, three volumes of doctor 
 Robert South's sermons, each of them containing twelve
 
 cxii THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 sermons apiece, and entitled severally the first, second, and 
 third volumes of the same, for one hundred and seven 
 pounds ten shillings of lawful money of Great Britain, paid 
 down to the said Henry Clements for that real or pretended 
 right to the said volumes or copies, as having bought them, 
 as he said, of one sir Thomas Gery, knight, and dame Eliza- 
 beth, his wife, widow of Thomas Bennet, bookseller, her 
 first husband, and accordingly claiming them as his sole 
 executrix, the said Bennet himself having likewise formerly 
 pleaded a right to the same by virtue of a purchase of them 
 from doctor Robert South, the author of them ; which yet he 
 the said doctor very much questions ; I do hereby by these 
 presents give and bequeath the aforesaid volumes and copies 
 of my sermons so purchased by me, as has been expressed, 
 to Mrs. Margaret Hammond, my housekeeper and execu- 
 trix, to have and to hold, and in full right to dispose of the 
 same according to her own will and pleasure for ever. And 
 here, to leave also some small pledge at least of my respects 
 to some of my particular friends ; to wit, the honourable 
 William Bromley, esquire, now principal secretary of state ; 
 and to the right reverend Dr. Francis Gastrell, lord bishop 
 of Chester ; and likewise to the reverend Dr. John Ham- 
 mond, and doctor William Stratford, both of them canons 
 of Christ Church in Oxon; I give and bequeath to every 
 one of them severally five broad Carolus pieces of gold, to 
 buy each of them a ring, to remember me their poor friend 
 and servant by. To all which the foregoing particulars, 
 contained in this codicil annexed to my last will and testa- 
 ment, as part of the same, I do here set my hand and seal 
 this second day of June, in the year of our Lord one thou- 
 sand seven hundred and fourteen, and of her present ma- 
 jesty queen Anne's reign the thirteenth, Robert South. 
 Signed, sealed, published, and declared by the said doctor 
 Robert South, as and for part of his last will and testament, 
 in the presence of us who have subscribed our names in the 
 presence of the said doctor Robert South ; James Eales, 
 John Walworth, Richard Jones.
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. cxiii 
 
 A second codicil, to be annexed to my will bearing date on 
 the thirtieth of March, one thousand seven hundred and 
 fourteen, and to be accounted a# part of the same. 
 
 WHEREAS I Robert South, doctor in divinity, and 
 canon of the collegiate church of Christ in Oxon, of king 
 Henry the eighth's foundation, &c. have by my last testa- 
 ment, bearing date as aforesaid, already disposed of all or 
 most of my real, and a great part of my personal estate 
 after my decease, I do nevertheless by this codicil (which I 
 do hereby annex to my said will, as part thereof) bestow 
 upon the persons hereafter mentioned these following legacies. 
 
 Imprimis, I give to Mr. Robert South, of Northampton, 
 attorney by profession, and son to my half-brother, Mr. 
 James South, deceased, my father's picture, drawn by the 
 excellent hand of Vanzoest, and now hanging in my lodg- 
 ings at Christ Church in Oxon ; as also a gold ring set with 
 a blue stone called an amethyst, with my father's arms curi- 
 ously engraved upon it ; likewise a pebble-stone artificially 
 set in a gold ring, (to be used as a seal,) with the same coat 
 of arms cast or engraved in it ; moreover, an agate of a 
 pretty large size, and handle tipped with silver, and bearing 
 my father's arms also upon it, intended chiefly for the 
 smoothing of written papers; and together with this, a 
 small silver seal with the same engravement upon it, and 
 commonly made use of by me in the sealing of my letters : 
 which said legacies, whether he shall pass a due value upon 
 them or no, (for I have heard of his character,) I have 
 thought fit to leave him, as the properest things to remind 
 him of the worthy father whom he is descended from, and 
 the family which he belongs to, and deserves with the ut- 
 most respect to be remembered by him. 
 
 Item, I give to Mrs. Elizabeth Kirkland, the eldest sister 
 of the said Robert South, &c. my wrought bed, (the work 
 of my own dear sister Elizabeth, long since deceased,) to- 
 gether with the table, stands, stools, chairs, carpets, and 
 covers respectively belonging to them ; as likewise a walnut 
 tree cabinet or scrutoire, first emptied of all things that were 
 
 VOL. i. i
 
 cxiv THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 
 
 in it, and standing in the back chamber in my house at 
 Westminster. Also I give her a pair of silver candlesticks, 
 with snuffing-pan, snuffers, and extinguisher belonging to 
 them ; all legacies I am sure (whatsoever else I had once in- 
 tended her) are a great deal more than either she or most of 
 her other relations (so like one another for their constant 
 disregard of me) do or can pretend to deserve of me. 
 
 Item., I give to the second sister of the said Robert South, 
 named Rachael Partridge, (as I remember,) one of my silver 
 tankards, at the choice of my executrix, and a silver cup 
 with a snake on the cover of it, and two silver tumblers ; 
 also a set of damask linen, reckoning to a set, one table- 
 cloth, one sideboard cloth, and twelve napkins, and no 
 more ; and all at the choice of my executrix, Mrs. Margaret 
 Hammond. And as for a third sister which he once had, 
 named Jane, (she having been some years since dead, and 
 having left behind her one only daughter, named Jane Tay- 
 lor,) I give to the said Jane Taylor my pearl cabinet, and a 
 black ebony dressing box, (all things being first taken out 
 of both of them,) together with a curiously-wrought silver 
 and crystal candlestick, with the black leathern case be- 
 longing to it ; and likewise a suit of diaper linen belonging 
 to me, and containing one table-cloth, one sideboard cloth, 
 twelve napkins, and no more ; but still all these, as well as 
 those aforementioned, to be chosen only by my executrix ; 
 from whom also this Mrs. Jane Taylor is to receive five 
 broad Carolus pieces of gold, with one silver coronation 
 medal of queen Anne, as a further testimony of my good will 
 towards her. 
 
 Item, To Mrs. Elizabeth Morris, of Antigua in the West 
 Indies, and wife to captain Valentine Morris, and grand- 
 daughter to my sister by the half-blood, Mrs. Joan Hall, 
 formerly living in the same place, I give as follows, viz. two 
 silver porringers, six silver forks and salts; and with all 
 those, two very fine pieces of wrought and gilt plate, bought 
 by me at Dantzick, in my travels into Poland, with the two 
 reddish leathern cases at first made for them, and fittest to 
 preserve them in. These, I say, I bequeath to her after my
 
 OF DR. ROBERT SOUTH. cxv 
 
 death, in case they should not be given or delivered to her 
 before. Lastly, To my near kinswoman and cousin-german 
 by the mother's side, dame Phebe Hardress, of Kent, I be- 
 queath her grandfather's and grandmother Berry's pictures 
 at large, and with gilt frames, together with one of her uncle 
 captain John Berry, and another of Mr. Jeffery Berry, 
 drawn in his minority, both of them of a less size and pro- 
 portion ; and likewise a gold seal ring with her grandfather's 
 arms neatly engraven upon it; things very proper (if as 
 friendly accepted, as they are offered) to remember her wor- 
 thy family and relations by. To all which the foregoing 
 particulars contained in this second codicil, annexed to my 
 last will and testament as part thereof, I do here set my 
 hand and seal, on this second day of June, in the year of 
 our Lord one thousand seven hundred and fourteen, and of 
 her present majesty queen Anne's reign the thirteenth. 
 Robert South. Signed, sealed, published, and declared by 
 the said Dr. Robert South, as and for part of his last will 
 and testament, in the presence of us who have here sub- 
 scribed our names in the presence of the said doctor Robert 
 South ; the word pictures being first interlined towards the 
 bottom of the leaf next and immediately before this ; James 
 Eales, John Walworth, Richard Jones. 
 
 A third codicil., to be annexed to my last will and testament, 
 and reckoned as part oftlie same. 
 
 WHEREAS I Robert South, doctor in divinity, and 
 prebendary of the collegiate church of St. Peter in West- 
 minster, have made my last will and testament, bearing date 
 on the thirtieth day of March in the year of our Lord one 
 thousand seven hundred and fourteen, and duly signed and 
 sealed the same, and got it attested and subscribed by three 
 sufficient witnesses. And whereas after that, I likewise 
 made and annexed two codicils to the said will, as part 
 thereof, both of them bearing date the second day of June 
 in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and 
 fourteen ; and the same being then also signed and sealed
 
 cxvi THE LAST WILL OF DR. SOUTH. 
 
 by myself, and duly attested by three sufficient witnesses ; 
 these are to certify and make known to all men, that I do 
 by these presents ratify and confirm my said will, and the 
 two codicils annexed to it, so signed and subscribed, as be- 
 fore expressed, as my true and lawful acts and deeds, and 
 fully containing my whole mind and last will in all the par- 
 ticulars therein expressed ; and that to all intents and pur- 
 poses whatsoever. And accordingly I do here set my hand 
 and seal to this my third codicil, and annex it in like man- 
 ner to my last will, adding it to the two other codicils, as 
 equally part of my will with them. And this I do on the 
 day of in the year of our Lord 
 
 and of her present majesty's reign the 
 
 The 24th day of July, 1716. 
 
 APPEARED personally Jonah Bowyer, of the parish 
 of St. Bridget, London, bookseller; and being sworn upon 
 the holy evangelists to depose the truth, did depose as fol- 
 lows : viz. That he was very well acquainted with the re- 
 verend doctor Robert South, and his manner and character 
 of hand-writing, having often seen him write, and having 
 viewed the codicil or paper, number three, hereunto an- 
 nexed, beginning thus, " A third codicil, to be annexed to 
 " my last will and testament, and reckoned as part of the 
 " same. Whereas I Robert South, doctor in divinity, and 
 " prebendary of the collegiate church of St. Peter's in West- 
 " minster," &c. and ending thus, " And accordingly I do 
 " here set my hand and seal to this my third codicil, and 
 " annex it in like manner to my last will, adding it to the 
 " two other codicils, as equally part of my will with them. 
 " And this I do on the day of in the 
 
 " year of our Lord and of her present 
 
 " majesty's reign the" does, as he verily believes, 
 
 and has been credibly informed, think the same to be all 
 wrote with the proper hand of the said doctor Robert South. 
 Jonah Bowyer. Die pr&dict. dictus Jonah Boivyer juratus 
 fuit super veritate premissorum cor am me Gulielmo Strahan, 
 surrog. &c.
 
 ORATIO FUNEBRIS 
 
 IN OBITUM 
 
 REVERENDISSIMI ET CLARISSIMI VIRI 
 
 ROBERTI SOUTH, S. T. P. 
 
 populis humanitatis et literarum laude florentibus 
 solenne olim fuit, ut celeberrimi cuj usque viri exequiis 
 orationem publice habendam instituerent, quae defuncti 
 merita et virtutes commemoraret ; ita nobis, alias si un- 
 quam, in praeclarissimi hujus viri funere celebrando aequiim 
 est fieri. Neque dubito quin vos, auditores, quotquot 
 adestis, honores omnes, qui ad mortuum deferri possunt, 
 quibus pompa funebris decorari potest et cohonestari, vene- 
 rando viro, cuj us reliquias ante vos positas intuemini, facile 
 concedatis; Vereor autem ne inter vos sint, qui indignentur 
 munus hoc mihi potissimum demandatum, et inique ferant, 
 viri doctissimi et celeberrimi oratoris praedicationem a puero, 
 qui literas labris primoribus vix gustaverit, susceptam. At 
 reputent illi, quod Romae, quod Athenis, ubi praestantissimi 
 vigebant oratores, non semper usitatum erat homines doctos 
 et disertos ad hoc munus evocari ; sed ii, qui forte fuerint 
 viro defuncto vel affinitate vel beneficiis devincti, hanc pro- 
 vinciam libenter susceperunt, non eloquentise confisi suae, 
 sed volentes aliquod grati animi exhibere testimonium. 
 
 Liceat itaque nobis pro beneficiis acceptis, sine invidia, 
 gratiam referre. Liceat insigni huic viro supremum munus 
 persolvere, qui qualis quantusque fuit, nobis tamen aliquo 
 affinitatis jure conjunctus est. Superbius quidem hoc a me 
 
 a Reprinted from the same volume which contaiiis the Life and Will. See 
 Advertisement to the Appendix, vol. vii. of the present edition. 
 
 i3
 
 cxviii ORATIO FUNEBRIS 
 
 et arrogantius diceretur, nisi vir ille venerandus, quamdiu 
 in vivis esset, idem hoc soleret laetus commemorare : nihil 
 illi frequentius, nihil libentius in ore erat, quam se in nostro 
 bonarum literarum seminario pueritiam posuisse, adeoque 
 ilium non pudebat ex his olim umbraculis prodiise, ut 
 inter plurimos illos quos meruit et adeptus est honores, hoc 
 quotidie jactitaret : eoque dulciorem hujus loci memoriam 
 foveret, quia semina hie feliciter jacta in messem uberiorem 
 indies accreverunt : et sane ita accreverunt, ut schola nostra, 
 doctissimorum virorum fcecunda mater, a nullo unquam 
 alumno ampliorem duxerit gloriandi materiam. Cum enim 
 ex hoc ludo literario in aedem amplissimam praestantissimis 
 hominum ingeniis semper affluentem cooptaretur, primo in- 
 ter suos inclaruit, mox etiam extra domesticos parietes 
 notus est, et tandem ita percrebuit doctrinae illius et elo- 
 quentiae fama, ut ex plurimis, qui turn ibi floruerunt, summi 
 ingenii hominibus, unus ille deligeretur, qui celeberrimae 
 Academia? sensus explicaret, et dicendo adornaret. 
 
 Insigni huic muneri sustinendo quam par fuerit, si taceret 
 hominum memoria, satis testantur quae in ecclesiae emolu- 
 mentum et subsidium reliquit scripta immortalia. Notum 
 est vobis, auditores eruditissimi, quanta sit in illis, quam 
 varia et multiplex doctrina, quae in disserendo subtilitas, qui 
 in refutando nervi, quod ingenii acumen, quae dicendi copia 
 et majestas. 
 
 His armis instructus in aciem prodiit, ecclesiae et mo- 
 narchiae acerrimus propugnator; haec tela in homines ne- 
 farios utrisque perniciem molientes strenuus contorsit, neque 
 signa prius deseruit, quam graves illas tempestates restitute 
 rege sedatas, et restinctos malevolorum impetus videret. 
 
 Jam tandem optimo cuique patebat ad honores via ; et 
 inter multos, qui aequissima ceperunt meritorum praemia, 
 insignis hie vir ad summam dignitatem feliciter coactus est ; 
 iis scilicet in aedibus quibus eductus alitusque fuerat, sedes 
 amplissimas obtinuit. 
 
 Dici sane vix potest, utrum huic an aedibus illis hoc 
 evenerit optatius. Hie certe gaudebat, quod iis potissimum 
 in locis, quos ex omnibus dilexit plurimum, fortunarum su-
 
 IN OBITUM R. SOUTH, S.T.P. cxix 
 
 arum sedem collocaret ; nee minus gaudebant illse, eximium 
 hunc virum, quern altera puerum fovisset, altera aluisset 
 adolescentem, utrisque dehinc ornamento fore et prsesidio. 
 Neque quidem eas haec spes frustrata est. Siquidem im- 
 mensa quam egregius hie vir per totum vitae cursum meri- 
 tissimo reportavit gloria, ad illas etiam aliqua ex parte 
 redundavit. 
 
 Non enim quieti se dedit, neque vitam, quam in publicum 
 commodum protraxit Deus, in otio consumpsit. Quos sub- 
 iret labores, quas vigilias pertulerit, ex praeclaris iis quas 
 frequenter habuit concionibus, ex doctissimis quos diligenter 
 confecit libris, nemini ignotum est. Neque vestrum pleros- 
 que latere arbitror, quot et quanta? in illo extiterint virtutes, 
 quae vitam privatam ornant, neque tarn celebrem quam 
 bonum virum indicant. 
 
 Quali animo in egenos fuerit, satis testantur quas intra 
 unam parochiam munificentissime erogarit opes ; quali erga 
 Deum pietate (quanquam hoc in scriptis omnibus et vitae 
 quotidianae usu videre erat) maxime declaravit sacrorum 
 frequentatio : quamdiu enim per valetudinem licuit, horas 
 sacris celebrandis institutes ita observabat, ut sol vices diur- 
 nas et nocturnas vix obiret constantior. At ingravescente 
 paulatmi senectute, et morte appropinquante, quam neque 
 animi dotes egregiae, neque pietas eximia potest propulsare, 
 vir optimus, qui huic saeculo abunde profuisset, Venturis 
 etiam saeculis prospexit ; et ut doctrinam immensam libris 
 mandatam posteris reliquit, sic opes quae ex effusa largitione 
 tandem superfuerant, ita legavit, ut literarum studio et 
 pietati promovendae per omne aevum inservirent. 
 
 His rebus confectis, quasi in aliorum commoda omnino 
 natus fuisset, e vita excessit vir praestantissimus; cujusdum 
 inter illustrissimorum virorum tumulos conquiescent reli- 
 quiae, nemini secundus, literatorum et bonorum omnium 
 sempiterna vigebit memoria. 
 
 i i
 
 A 
 
 FUNERAL ORATION 
 
 UPON 
 
 THE REVEREND AND LEARNED 
 
 DR. SOUTH. 
 
 JL HAT solemnity, of celebrating in public orations the 
 extraordinary merits of great men at their funerals, which 
 was established of old by those people who were eminent 
 for having humanity and learning flourish among them, can 
 certainly never be more justly observed, than in our per- 
 formance of the obsequies of this illustrious person before 
 us. Nor do I in the least doubt but all you, who are pre- 
 sent, perfectly agree, that all the honours that can possibly 
 be paid to the venerable person whose remains lie before 
 you, by which his funeral rites may be made conspicuous 
 and deservedly eminent, should be performed. And yet I 
 must confess I am very apprehensive, that some among you 
 may be offended that I should be singled out particularly to 
 execute so awful and solemn a duty, and bear it with some 
 indignation, that the praise of so learned and celebrated an 
 orator should be undertaken by a boy, who is scarce yet ar- 
 rived to be master of the very first principles of letters. But 
 I would have these gentlemen consider, that at Rome and at 
 Athens, which were full of great and excellent orators, men 
 of learning and consummate eloquence were not always de- 
 puted to this office, but such as were either related to the 
 deceased, or bound to him by some signal obligations ; who 
 freely and voluntarily undertook this province, not at all 
 confiding in their own eloquence to do him justice, Tsut
 
 A FUNERAL ORATION, &c. cxxi 
 
 willing to lay hold of that opportunity to give some testi- 
 mony of their gratitude. 
 
 Give me therefore leave, without envy, to make some 
 small return for the benefits I have received ; give me leave 
 to perform this last office to the excellent person here de- 
 ceased ; who as great and eminent as he was, yet to him I 
 must boast some alliance. This indeed might be looked on 
 as a more proud and arrogant assertion, had not this reve- 
 rend gentleman, as long as he lived, seemed, in all his dis- 
 course, with a particular satisfaction, freely and voluntarily 
 to tell his friends the same thing ; that he had his early days 
 instructed in our seminary of noble and wholesome arts ; 
 and he was so far from being ashamed of taking his rise in 
 learning from this school, that in the midst of those distin- 
 guishing merits of which he was master, and those dignities 
 which he obtained, this only seemed to give him satisfac- 
 tion in that good fortune which had attended him ; and that 
 which made the memory of this place the more dear to him 
 was, that here the seeds were happily sown, which after- 
 wards produced so noble and so daily increasing a harvest. 
 And this harvest so increased, that our school, the fertile 
 mother of learned men, never received from any of her 
 childreji more ample matter of glory. For when this ex- 
 cellent man was elected into that college 8 which has always 
 been eminent for men of extraordinary parts, he first grew 
 considerable among his fellow-collegians, and soon extended 
 the knowledge of his admirable talents beyond those narrow 
 bounds; and soon after, the fame of his learning and elo- 
 quence increased so far, that out of many persons of con- 
 summate learning, who then flourished in the same house, 
 he alone was chosen to explain, and by his eloquence to 
 adorn, the sense of that most celebrated university. 
 
 And how fit for and how equal he was to this great work, 
 if the treachery of our memory should leave the fact in si- 
 lence, yet we have sufficient testimony from those admirable 
 and immortal works which he has left written for the benefit 
 and support of the church. You must know, my most 
 
 s Christ Church, Oxon.
 
 cxxii A FUNERAL ORATION UPON 
 
 learned auditors, how great learning, how various and how 
 manifold, shines in them ; you must know the penetration, 
 or if you will have the word, the subtilty of his arguments, 
 the force of his refutations, the poignancy of his wit, and 
 the copiousness and majesty of his style. With these arms 
 this strenuous defender of the church and the monarchy en- 
 tered the lists ; these weapons he with vigour darted against 
 those abandoned wretches who designed the destruction of 
 both; nor did he quit the field till he saw those terrible 
 conflicts appeased, and the efforts of the malignants re- 
 strained, by the restoration of the king. 
 
 Now at last the way lay open and easy to all men of 
 worth for honours ; and among many who received the most 
 just rewards of their merits, this most excellent person was 
 happily compelled to accept of the highest dignity ; that is, 
 he obtained a chief seat in those places where he was 
 educated. 
 
 It is a difficult matter to determine, whether this was a 
 happier and more desired event to him or to those houses. 
 It is certain he was infinitely satisfied that he should settle 
 his fortunes particularly in those places which he loved 
 above all others ; and those perfectly rejoiced, that this wor- 
 thy person, who had his childhood instructed in one, and his 
 youth accomplished in the other, should thus be an orna- 
 ment and defence to both. Nor did these hopes in the least 
 deceive them ; for that immense glory which this great man 
 justly acquired through the whole course of his life, they in 
 some measure had their share of. 
 
 For he gave not himself up to sloth and inactivity, nor 
 squandered away that life, which God, for the public benefit, 
 made long, in a mere idle retreat. There is no man surely 
 can be ignorant of this, since it is evident from the many 
 excellent sermons he has given the world, and the other 
 accurate books which he writ. Nor can I suppose it pos- 
 sible, that most of you should be ignorant of those numerous 
 and sublime virtues which were conspicuous in him, and 
 which are an ornament to a private station, and prove not 
 so much a popular as a good man. There is no greater
 
 THE REVEREND DR. SOUTH. cxxiii 
 
 proof of his charitable nature, and compassion for the poor, 
 than his uncommon and large donations in one only h pa- 
 rish ; and of his piety to God, (although this was sufficiently 
 evident in all his writings and the whole conduct of his life,) 
 his constant frequenting the offices of the church is a suf- 
 ficient testimonial. For as long as his health would any way 
 suffer him, he so religiously observed the hours set apart 
 for the divine worship of the church, that the sun was not 
 more constant to its diurnal and nocturnal revolutions. But 
 old age growing sensibly upon him, and death approaching, 
 which neither the most admirable endowments of mind, nor 
 the most eminent piety can put off, this excellent man, who 
 had been so great a benefactor to the present age, had also 
 a generous regard to posterity. And as he left his immense 
 learning in his books to the ages to come, so he disposed of 
 that fortune which his extensive liberality had left him, in 
 such a manner, that it should for ever contribute to the 
 study of learning and the promotion of piety. 
 
 All this being done, as if he had been born entirely for 
 the benefit of others, this most excellent person departed 
 this life ; and while his sacred relics are deposited among 
 the tomtjs of the most illustrious, his name will ever live and 
 flourish in the memory of the learned and the virtuous. 
 
 h Islip, in Oxfordshire.
 
 THE 
 
 CHIEF HEADS OF THE SERMONS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THE WAYS OF WISDOM ARE WAYS OF PLEASANTNESS. 
 
 PROV. iii. 17 
 
 Her ways are ways of pleasantness. Page 3. 
 Some objections against this truth are removed, 3. and 
 the duty of repentance represented under a mixture of sweet- 
 ness, 11. 
 
 The excellencies of the pleasure of wisdom are enume- 
 rated : 
 
 I. As it is the pleasure of the mind, 13. in reference, 1. 
 to speculation, 13. on the account of the greatness, 14. and 
 newness of the objects, 16. 2. To practice, 17. 
 
 II. As it never satiates and wearies, 18. The comparison of 
 other pleasures with it ; such as that of an epicure, 19. that 
 of ambition, 21. that of friendship and conversation, 22. 
 
 III. As it is in nobody's power, but only in his that has 
 it, 23. which property and perpetuity is not to be found 
 in worldly enjoyments, 24. 
 
 A consequence is drawn against the absurd austerities of 
 the Romish profession, 25. 
 
 A short description of the religious pleasure, 27. 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 OF THE CREATION OF MAN IN THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 GENESIS i. 27. 
 So God created man in his own image, in the image of 
 
 God created he him. P. 28. 
 
 The several false opinions of the heathen philosophers 
 concerning the original of the world, 31.
 
 cxxvi THE CHIEF HEADS OF 
 
 The image of God in man considered, 32. 
 
 I. Wherein it does not consist, adequately and formally ; 
 not in power and dominion, as the Socinians erroneously 
 assert, 33. 
 
 II. Wherein it does consist: 1. In the universal rectitude 
 of all the faculties of the soul, 35. viz. of his understand- 
 ing, 35. both speculative, 36. and practical, 38. Of his 
 will, 40. Concerning the freedom of it, 41. Of his pas- 
 sions, 42 : love, 43. hatred, 44. anger, 45. joy, 45. sorrow, 
 46. hope, 46. fear, 47. 2. In those characters of majesty 
 that God imprinted upon his body, 48. 
 
 The consideration of the irreparable loss sustained in the 
 fall of our first parents, 50. and of the excellency of Chris- 
 tian religion, designed by God to repair the breaches of our 
 humanity, 52. 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 INTEREST DEPOSED, AND TRUTH RESTORED. 
 
 MATTHEW x. 33. 
 But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also 
 
 deny before my Father which is in heaven. P. 56. 
 The occasion of those words inquired into, 56. and their 
 explication, by being compared with other parallel scrip- 
 tures, 58. and some observations deduced from them, 59- 
 The explication of them, by shewing, 
 
 I. How many ways Christ and his truths may be de- 
 nied, 60. 1. By an heretical judgment, 61. 2. By oral ex- 
 pressions, 63. 3. By our actions, 64. 
 
 What denial is intended by these words, 66. 
 
 II. The causes inducing men to deny Christ in his 
 truths, 67. 1. The seeming absurdity of many truths, 67. 
 2. Their unprofitableness, 69- 3. Their apparent dan- 
 ger, 71. 
 
 HI. How far a man may consult his safety in time of 
 persecution, without denying Christ, 73. 1. By withdraw- 
 ing his person, 73. 2. By concealing his judgment, 73. 
 
 When those ways of securing ourselves are not law- 
 ful, 74.
 
 THE SERMONS IN VOL. I. cxxvii 
 
 IV. What is meant by Christ's denial of us, 76. with re- 
 ference, 1. To the action itself, 76. 2. To its circum- 
 stances, 78. 
 
 V. How many uses may be drawn from the words, 80. 
 1. An exhortation chiefly to persons in authority, to defend 
 Christ in his truth, 80. and in his members, 81. 2. An in- 
 formation, to shew us the danger as well as baseness of de- 
 nying Christ, 83. 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 RELIGION THE BEST REASON OF STATE. 
 
 T KINGS xiii. 33, 34. 
 
 Afler this thing If ing Jeroboam returned not from his evil 
 way, but made again of the lowest of the people priests 
 of the high places : whosoever would, he consecrated him, 
 and he became one of the priests of the high places. And 
 this thing became sin unto the house of Jeroboam, even 
 to cut it off, and to destroy it from off the face of the 
 earth. P. 85. 
 
 Jeroboam's history and practice, 85. Some observations 
 from it, 89- An explication of the words high places, 90. 
 and consecration, 91. 
 
 The "sense of the words drawn into two propositions, 91. 
 
 I. The means to strengthen or to ruin the civil power, is 
 either to establish or destroy the right worship of God, 91. 
 Of which proposition the truth is proved by all records of 
 divine and profane history, 92. and the reason is drawn 
 from the judicial proceeding of God ; and from the depend- 
 ence of the principles of government upon religion, 92. 
 
 From which may be inferred, 1. The pestilential design 
 of disjoining the civil and ecclesiastical interest, 99. 2. The 
 danger of any thing that may make even the true religion 
 suspected to be false, 101. 
 
 II. The way to destroy religion is to embase the dis- 
 pensers of it, 103. which is done, 1. By divesting them of 
 all temporal privileges and advantages, 103. 2. By ad- 
 mitting unworthy persons to this function, 108. By which
 
 cxxviii THE CHIEF HEADS OF 
 
 means, 1st, ministers are brought under contempt, 111. 
 2dly, Men of fit parts and abilities are discouraged from 
 undertaking the ministry, 114. 
 
 A brief recapitulation of the whole, 117. 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 THE DUTIES OF THE EPISCOPAL FUNCTION. 
 
 TITUS ii. 15. 
 
 These things speak, and exhort, and rebuke with all au- 
 thority. Let no man despise thee. P. 122. 
 Titus supposed to be a bishop in all this epistle, 122. 
 The duties of which place are, 
 
 I. To teach, 124. either immediately by himself, 127. or 
 mediately by the subordinate ministration of others, 128. 
 
 II. To rule, 129. by an exaction of duty from persons 
 under him, 130. by a protection of the persons under the 
 discharge of their duty, 131. and by animadversion upon 
 such as neglect it, 131. 
 
 And the means better to execute those duties, is not to be 
 despised, 124 134. in the handling of which prescription 
 these things may be observed : 
 
 1. The ill effects that contempt has upon government, 
 134. 2. The causes upon which church-rulers are fre- 
 quently despised, 137. And they are 
 
 Either groundless; such as their very profession itself, 
 138. loss of their former grandeur and privilege, 139. 
 
 Or just; such as ignorance, 140. viciousness, 141. fear- 
 fulness, 142. and a proneness to despise others, 143. 
 
 The character of a clergyman, 144. 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 WHY CHRIST'S DOCTRINE WAS REJECTED BY THE JEWS. 
 
 JOHN vii. 17. 
 
 If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doc- 
 trine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of my- 
 self. P. 146. 
 
 An account of the Jewish and Christian economy, 146.
 
 THE SERMONS IN VOL. I. cxxix 
 
 The gospel must meet with a rightly disposed will, be- 
 fore it can gain the assent of the understanding, 148. which 
 will appear from the following considerations : 
 
 I. What Christ's doctrine is, with relation to matters of 
 belief, 149. and to matters of practice, 149- 
 
 II. That men's unbelief of that doctrine was from no de- 
 fect in the arguments, 152. whose strength was sufficient, 
 from the completion of all the predictions, 152. and the au- 
 thority of miracles, 153. And whose insufficiency (if mere 
 could have been any) was not the cause of the unbelief of 
 the Jews, 154. who assented to things less evident, 155. 
 neither evident nor certain, but only probable, 156. neither 
 evident, nor certain, nor probable, but false and falla- 
 cious, 156. 
 
 III. That the Jewish unbelief proceeded from the pra- 
 vity of the will influencing the understanding to a disbelief 
 of Christianity, 157. the last being prepossessed with other 
 notions, and the first being wholly governed by covetous- 
 ness and ambition, 157. 
 
 IV. That a well-disposed mind, with a readiness to obey 
 the will of God, is the best means to enlighten the under- 
 standing to a belief of Christianity, 160. upon the account 
 both of_God''s goodness, 160. and of a natural efficiency, 
 162. arising from a right disposition of the will, which will 
 engage the understanding in the search of the truth through 
 diligence, 163. and impartiality, 165. 
 
 . From which particulars may be learned, 1. The' true 
 cause of atheism and scepticism, 167. 2. The most effectual 
 means of becoming good Christians, 169- 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 GOD'S PECULIAR REGARD TO PLACES SET APART FOR DI- 
 VINE WORSHIP. 
 
 PSALM Ixxxvii. 2. 
 
 God hath loved the gates of Sion more than all the dwell- 
 ings of Jacob. P. 175. 
 
 All comparisons import, in the superior part of them, 
 VOL. i. k
 
 cxxx THE CHIEF HEADS OF 
 
 difference and preeminence, 175. and so from the com- 
 parison of this text arise these propositions : 
 
 I. That God bears a different respect to consecrated 
 places, from what he bears to all others, 175. which dif- 
 ference he shews, 1. By the interposals of his providence 
 for the erecting and preserving of them, 176. 2. By his 
 punishments upon the violators of them, 180. 3. Not upon 
 the account of any inherent sanctity in the things them- 
 selves, but because he has the sole property of them, 186. 
 by appropriating them to his peculiar use, 187. and by 
 deed of gift made by surrender on man's part, 187. and by 
 acceptance on his, 189. 
 
 II. That God prefers the worship paid to him in such 
 places above that in all others, 193. because, 1. Such places 
 are naturally apt to excite a greater devotion, 193. 2. In 
 them our worship is a more direct service and homage to 
 him, 197. , 
 
 From all which we are taught to have these three in- 
 gredients in our devotion ; desire, reverence, and confi- 
 dence, 199. 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 ALL CONTINGENCIES UNDER THE DIRECTION OF GOD's PRO- 
 VIDENCE. 
 
 PROV. xvi. 33. 
 
 The lot is cast into the lap ; but the whole disposing of it is 
 of the Lord. P. 201. 
 
 God's providence has its influence upon all things, even 
 the most fortuitous, such as the casting of lots, 201. Which 
 things, implying in themselves somewhat future and some- 
 what contingent, are, 
 
 I. In reference to men, out of the reach of their know- 
 ledge and of their power, 202. 
 
 II. In reference to God, comprehended by a certain 
 knowledge, 204. and governed by as certain a providence, 
 205. and by him directed to both certain, 205. and great 
 ends, 208. in reference, 
 
 1. To societies, or united bodies of men, 208. 2. To par-
 
 THE SERMONS IN VOL. I. cxxxi 
 
 ticular persons, whether public, as princes, 214. or private, 
 touching their lives, 217. health, 218. reputation, 218. 
 friendships, 221. employments, 222. 
 
 Therefore we ought to rely on divine Providence ; and 
 be neither too confident in prosperity, 225. nor too despon- 
 dent in adversity, 227. but carry a conscience clear to- 
 wards God, who is the sole and absolute disposer of all 
 things, 228. 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 THE WISDOM OF THIS WORLD. 
 
 1 COR. iii. 19. 
 For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. P. 229. 
 
 Worldly wisdom, in scripture, is taken sometimes for phi- 
 losophy, 229. sometimes, as here, for policy, 230. which, 
 
 I. Governs its actions generally by these rules, 231. 
 1. By a constant dissimulation; not a bare concealment of 
 one's mind ; but a man's positive professing what he is not, 
 and resolves not to be, 231. 2. By submitting conscience 
 and religion to one's interest, 234. 3. By making one's self 
 the sole end of all actions, 237. 4. By having no respect to 
 friendship, gratitude, or sense of honour, 239- 
 
 Which rules and principles are, 
 
 II. Foolish and absurd in reference to God, 241. because 
 in the pursuit of them man pitches, 1. Upon an end, un- 
 proportionable, 242. to the measure of his duration, 242. 
 or to the vastness of his desires, 243. 2. Upon means in 
 themselves insufficient for, 244. and frequently contrary to 
 the attaining of such ends, 247. which is proved to happen 
 in the four foregoing rules of the worldly politician, 248. 
 
 Therefore we ought to be sincere, 255. and commit our 
 persons and concerns to the wise and good providence of 
 God, 255. 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 GOOD INCLINATIONS NO EXCUSE FOR BAD ACTIONS. 
 
 2 COR. viii. 12. 
 
 For if there be first a willitig mind, it is accepted accord- 
 
 k 2
 
 cxxxii THE CHIEF HEADS OF 
 
 ing- to that a man hath, and not according to that he 
 
 hath not. P. 257. 
 
 Men are apt to abuse the world and themselves in some 
 general principles of action ; and particularly in this, That 
 God accepts the will for the deed, 257. The delusion of 
 which is laid open in these words, 258. expressing, that 
 where there is no power, God accepts the will ; but im- 
 plying, that where there is, he does not. So there is no- 
 thing of so fatal an import as the plea of a good intention, 
 and of a good will, 258. for God requires the obedience of 
 the whole man, and never accepts the will but as such, 262. 
 Thence we may understand how far it holds good, that God 
 accepts the will for the deed, 265. a rule whose 
 
 I. Ground is founded upon that eternal truth, that God 
 requires of man nothing impossible, 265. and consequently 
 whose, 
 
 II. Bounds are determined by what power man naturally 
 hath, 265. but whose, 
 
 III. Misapplication consists in these, 266. 1. That men 
 often mistake for an act of the will what really is not so, 
 266. as a bare approbation, 266. wishing, 267. mere incli- 
 nation, 269. 2. That men mistake for impossibilities things 
 which are not truly so, 271. as in duties of very great 
 labour, 271. danger, 273. cost, 278. in conquering an inve- 
 terate habit, 283. 
 
 Therefore there is not a weightier case of conscience, 
 than to know how far God accepts the will, and when men 
 truly will a thing, and have really no power, 286. 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 OF THE ODIOUS SIN OF INGRATITUDE. 
 
 JUDGES viii. 34, 35. 
 
 And the children of Israel remembered not the Lord their 
 God, who had delivered them out of the hands of all 
 their enemies on every side : neither shewed they Jcind- 
 ness to the house of Jerubbaal, namely, Gideon, accord- 
 ing to all the goodness which he had shewed unto Is- 
 rael. P. 288.
 
 THE SERMONS IN VOL. I. cxxxiii 
 
 The history of Gideon, and the Israelites' behaviour 
 towards him, 288. are the subject and occasion of these 
 words, which treat of their ingratitude both towards God- 
 and man, 290. This vice in this latter sense is described, 
 291. by shewing, 
 
 I. What gratitude is, 291. what are its parts, 292. what 
 grounds it hath in the law of nature, 293. Of God's word, 
 296. Of man, 296. 
 
 II. The nature and baseness of ingratitude, 300. 
 
 III. That ingratitude proceeds from a proneness to do ill 
 turns with a complacency upon the sight of any mischief be- 
 falling another ; and from an utter insensibility of all kind- 
 nesses, 302. 
 
 IV. That it is always attended with many other ill quali- 
 ties, 304. pride, 305. hard-heartedness, 307. and false- 
 hood, 310. Therefore, 
 
 V. What consequences may be drawn from the premises, 
 310. 1. Never to enter into a league of friendship with an 
 ungrateful person, 310. because, 2. he cannot be altered 
 by any acts of kindness, 311. and, 3. he has no true sense 
 of religion, 313. Exhortation to gratitude as a debt to 
 God, 314. 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 OF THE BASE SINS OF FALSEHOOD AND LYING. 
 
 Paov. xii. 32. 
 
 Lying lips are abomination to the Lord. P. 316. 
 The universality of lying is described, 316. And this 
 vice is further prosecuted, by shewing, 
 
 I. The nature of it, 319- wherein it consists, 319. and 
 the unlawfulness of all sorts of lies, whether pernicious, offi- 
 cious, or jocose, 320. 
 
 II. The effects of it, 325. all sins that came into the 
 world, 325. all miseries that befall mankind, 326. an ut- 
 ter dissolution of all society, 330. an indisposition to the 
 impressions of religion, 333. 
 
 III. The punishments of it: the loss of all credit, 336. 
 the hatred of all whom the liar has or would have de-
 
 cxxxiv THE CHIEF HEADS OF 
 
 ceived 337. and an eternal separation from God, 342. 
 All which particulars are briefly summed up, 343. 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 THE PRACTICE OF RELIGION ENFORCED BY REASON. 
 
 PROV. x. 9. 
 
 He that walketh uprightly walketh surely. P. 349- 
 The life of man is in scripture expressed by walking; 
 which to do surely, great caution must be taken not to lay 
 down false principles, or mistake in consequences from 
 right ones, 349- but to walk uprightly, under the notion of 
 an infinite mind governing the world, and an expectation of 
 another state hereafter, 349. Which two principles will se- 
 cure us in all our actions, whether they be considered, 
 
 I. As true, 351. the folly of a sinner presuming upon 
 God's mercy, 353. or relying upon a future repentance, 
 356. or whether supposed, 
 
 II. As only probable, 357. No man, in most temporal 
 concerns, acts upon surer grounds than of probability, 359- 
 And self-preservation will oblige a man to undergo a lesser 
 evil to secure himself from the probability of a greater, 361. 
 Probability supposes that a thing may or may not be; 
 both which are examined with relation to a future state, 
 361. 
 
 III. As false, 364. Under this supposition the virtuous 
 walketh more surely than the wicked, with reference to 
 temporal enjoyments : reputation, 364. quietness, 366. 
 health, 369- Answer to an objection, that many sinners 
 enjoy all these, 371. 
 
 Thence we may perceive the folly of atheistical persons, 
 373. and learn to walk uprightly, as the best ground for our 
 present and future happiness, 376. 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 OF THE LOVE OF CHRIST TO HIS DISCIPLES. 
 
 JOHN xv. 15. 
 Henceforth I call you not servants ; for the servant Icnoweth
 
 THE SERMONS IN VOL. I. cxxxv 
 
 not what his lord doeth ; but I have called you friends ; 
 for all things that I have heard of my Father have I 
 
 made known unto you. P. 378. 
 
 The superlative love of Christ appears in the several de- 
 grees of his kindness to man, before he was created, 378. 
 when created, 379- when fallen, 379. whom even he not 
 only spared, but, from the number of subjects, took into 
 the retinue of his servants, and further advanced to the 
 privilege of a friend, 380. The difference between which 
 two appellations is this : 
 
 I. That a servant is for the most part, 1. unacquainted 
 with his master's designs, 383. 2. restrained with a de- 
 generous awe of mind, 383. 3. endued with a mercenary 
 disposition, 384. 
 
 II. That a friend is blessed with many privileges; as, 
 1. Freedom of access, 385. 2. Favourable construction of 
 all passages, 386. 3. Sympathy in joy and grief, 390. 4. 
 Communication of secrets, 392. 5. Counsel and advice, 
 395. 6. Constancy and perpetuity, 396. 
 
 In every one of which particulars, the excellency of 
 Christ's friendship shining forth, 400. we may learn the 
 high advantage of true piety, 401. 
 
 SERMONS XV. XVI. 
 
 AGAINST LONG EXTEMPORE PRAYERS 
 
 ECCLES. v. 2. 
 
 Be not rash with thy,mouth, and let not thine heart be hasty 
 to utter any thing" before God : for God is in heaven, and 
 thou upon earth ; therefore let thy words be few. P. 405. 
 Solomon having been spoken to by God himself, and so 
 the fittest to teach us how to speak to God, here observes 
 to us, that when we are in God's house, we are more espe- 
 cially in his presence ; that this ought to create a reverence 
 in our addresses to him, and that this reverence consists in 
 the preparation of our thoughts and the government of our 
 expressions, 405. the two great joint ingredients of prayer, 
 415. Of which,
 
 cxxxvi THE CHIEF HEADS OF 
 
 The first is premeditation of thought, 406. 415. 417. 
 The second is, ordering of our words by pertinence and 
 brevity of expression, 406* 435. 
 
 Because prayer prevails upon God, 
 
 * Not as it does with men, by way of information, 406. 
 persuasion, 407. importunity, 408. An objection to this 
 last is answered, 413. 
 
 But as it is the fulfilling of that condition upon which 
 God dispenseth his blessings to mankind, 409. An objec- 
 tion to this is removed, 409- 
 
 As it is most properly an act of dependence upon God, 
 412. a dependence not natural, but moral ; for else it would 
 belong indifferently to the wicked as well as to the just, 412. 
 
 I. Premeditation ought to respect, 1. The object of our 
 prayers; God and his divine perfections, 416. 2. The 
 matter of our prayers, 418. either things of absolute neces- 
 sity, as the virtues of a pious life; or of unquestionable 
 charity, as the innocent comforts of it, 419. 3. The order 
 and disposition of our prayers, 421. by excluding every thing 
 which may seem irreverent, incoherent, and impertinent; 
 absurd and irrational; 421. rude, slight, and careless, 422. 
 
 Therefore all Christian churches have governed their 
 public worship by a liturgy, or set form of prayer, 423. 
 Which way of praying is truly, 
 
 To pray by the Spirit ; that is, with the heart, not hypo- 
 critically; and according to the rules prescribed by God's 
 holy Spirit, not unwarrantably, or by a pretence to imme- 
 diate inspiration, 424. 
 
 Not to stint, but help and enlarge the spirit of prayer, 
 427. for the soul being of a limited nature, cannot at the 
 same time supply two distinct faculties to the same height 
 of operation ; words are the work of the brain ; and devo- 
 tion, properly the business of the heart, indispensably re- 
 quired in prayer, 428. 
 
 Whereas, on the contrary, 
 
 Extempore prayers stint the spirit, by calling off the fa- 
 culties of the soul from dealing with the heart both in the 
 minister and in the people, 427, 428. And besides,
 
 THE SERMONS IN VOL. I. cxxxvii 
 
 They are prone to encourage pride and ostentation, 429- 
 faction and sedition, 431. 
 
 II. Brevity of expression, -the greatest perfection of 
 speech, 435. authorized by both divine, 435. and human 
 examples, 437. suited best to the modesty, 440. discre- 
 tion, 440. and respect required in all suppliants, 441. is 
 still further enforced in our addresses to God by these argu- 
 ments, 441. 1. That all the reasons for prolixity of speech 
 with men cease to be so, when we pray to God, 442. 2. 
 That there are but few things necessary to be prayed for, 
 448. 3. That the person who prays cannot keep up the 
 same fervour and attention in a long as in a short prayer, 
 
 450. 4. That shortness of speech is the most natural and 
 lively way of expressing the utmost agonies of the soul, 
 
 451. 5. That we have examples in scripture, both of bre- 
 vity and prolixity of speech in prayer, as of brevity in the 
 Lord's Prayer, 453. the practice of it in our Saviour him- 
 self, 454. the success of it in several instances; as of the 
 leper, of the blind man, and of the publican, 455. Whereas 
 the heathens and the pharisees, the grand instances of ido- 
 latry and hypocrisy, are noted for prolixity, 456. 
 
 By these rules we may judge, 1. of our church's excel- 
 lent liturgy; for its brevity and fulness, for the frequent 
 opportunity of mentioning the name and some great attri- 
 bute of God; for its alternate responses, which thing pro- 
 perly denominates it a Book of Common-Prayer, 457. for 
 appointing even a form of prayer before sermons, 459. 2. 
 Of the dissenters' prayers, always notable for length and 
 tautology, incoherence and confusion, 460. 
 
 And, after this comparison, pronounce our liturgy the 
 greatest treasure of rational devotion ; and pray God would 
 vouchsafe long to continue to us the use of it, 463. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED 
 
 BEFORE THE COURT AT CHRIST CHURCH 
 CHAPEL IN OXFORD. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON, 
 
 LORD HIGH-CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND, AND CHANCELLOR OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF OXON, AND ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S 
 
 MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 -L HOUGH to prefix so great a name to so mean a piece 
 seems Iffce enlarging the entrance of an house that affords 
 no reception ; yet since there is nothing can warrant the 
 publication of it, but what can also command it, the work 
 must think of no other patronage than the same that adorns 
 and protects its author. Some indeed vouch great names, 
 because they think they deserve; but I, because I need 
 such : and had I not more occasion than many others to 
 see and converse with your lordship's candour and prone- 
 ness to pardon, there is none had greater cause to dread 
 your judgment; and thereby in some part I venture to 
 commend my own. For all know, who know your lord- 
 ship, that in a nobler respect; than either that of govern- 
 ment or patronage, you represent and head the best of uni- 
 versities ; and have travelled over too many nations and au- 
 thors to encourage any one that understands himself, to ap- 
 pear an author in your hands, who seldom read any books 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 to inform yourself, but only to countenance and credit 
 them. But, my lord, what is here published pretends no 
 instruction, but only homage ; while it teaches many of the 
 world, it only describes your lordship, who have made the 
 ways of labour and virtue, of doing, and doing good, your 
 business and your recreation, your meat and your drink, 
 and, I may add also, your sleep. My lord, the subject here 
 treated of is of that nature, that it would seem but a chi- 
 mera, and a bold paradox, did it not in the very front carry 
 an instance to exemplify it ; and so by the dedication con- 
 vince the world, that the discourse itself was not impractica- 
 ble. For such ever was, and is, and will be the temper 
 of the generality of mankind, that, while I send men for 
 pleasure, to religion, I cannot but expect, that they will 
 look upon me, as only having a mind to be pleasant with 
 them myself: nor are men to be worded into new tempers 
 or constitutions : and he that thinks that any one can per- 
 suade, but He that made the world, will find that he does 
 not well understand it. 
 
 My lord, I have obeyed your command, for such must I 
 account your desire ; and thereby design, not so much the 
 publication of my sermon, as of my obedience : for, next to 
 the supreme pleasure described in the ensuing discourse, I 
 enjoy none greater, than in having any opportunity to de- 
 clare myself, 
 
 Your lordship's very humble servant, 
 
 and obliged chaplain, 
 ROBERT SOUTH.
 
 PROV. iii. 17. 
 Her ways are ways of pleasantness. 
 
 _L HE text relating to something going before, 
 must carry our eye back to the thirteenth verse, 
 where we shall find, that the thing, of which these 
 words are affirmed, is wisdom : a name by which 
 the Spirit of God was here pleased to express to us 
 religion, and thereby to tell the world, what before 
 it was not aware of, and perhaps will not yet be- 
 lieve, that those two great things that so engross 
 the desires and designs of both the nobler and igno- 
 bler sort of mankind, are to be found in religion ; 
 namely, wisdom and pleasure ; and that the former 
 is the direct way to the latter, as religion is to both. 
 
 That pleasure is man's chiefest good, (because in- 
 deed it is the perception of good that is properly 
 pleasure 1 ,) is an assertion most certainly true, though 
 under~the common acceptance of it, not only false, 
 but odious : for according to this, pleasure and sen- 
 suality pass for terms equivalent ; and therefore he 
 that takes it in this sense, alters the subject of the 
 discourse. Sensuality is indeed a part> or rather 
 one kind of pleasure, such an one as it is : for plea- 
 sure in general is the consequent apprehension of a 
 suitable object, suitably applied to a rightly dis- 
 posed faculty; and so must be conversant both about 
 the faculties of the body and of the soul respect- 
 ively; as being the result of the fruitions belonging 
 to both. 
 
 Now amongst those many arguments used to 
 press upon men the exercise of religion, I know 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A SERMON 
 
 none that are like to be so successful, as those that 
 answer and remove the prejudices that generally 
 possess and bar up the hearts of men against it: 
 amongst which, there is none so prevalent in truth, 
 though so little owned in pretence, as that it is an 
 enemy to men's pleasures, that it bereaves them of 
 all the sweets of converse, dooms them to an absurd 
 and perpetual melancholy, designing to make the 
 world nothing else but a great monastery. With 
 which notion of religion, nature and reason seems 
 to have great cause to be dissatisfied. For since 
 God never created any faculty, either in soul or 
 body, but withal prepared for it a suitable object, 
 and that in order to its gratification ; can we think 
 that religion was designed only for a contradiction 
 to nature? and with the greatest and most irra- 
 tional tyranny in the world to tantalize and tie men 
 up from enjoyment, in the midst of all the opportu- 
 nities of enjoyment ? To place men with the furious 
 affections of hunger and thirst in the very bosom of 
 plenty ; and then to tell them, that the envy of pro- 
 vidence has sealed up every thing that is suitable 
 under the character of unlawful? For certainly, 
 first to frame appetites fit to receive pleasure, and 
 then to interdict them with a touch not, taste; not, 
 can be nothing else, than only to give them occasion 
 to devour and prey upon themselves; and so to keep 
 men under the perpetual torment of an unsatisfied 
 desire : a thing hugely contrary to the natural feli- 
 city of the creature, and consequently to the wis- 
 dom and goodness of the great Creator. 
 
 He therefore that would persuade men to reli- 
 gion, both with art and efficacy, must found the 
 persuasion of it upon this, that it interferes not with
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 5 
 
 any rational pleasure, that it bids nobody quit the 
 enjoyment of any one thing that his reason can 
 prove to him ought to be enjoyed. It is confessed, 
 when, through the cross circumstances of a man's 
 temper or condition, the enjoyment of a pleasure 
 would certainly expose him to a greater inconve- 
 nience, then religion bids him quit it ; that is, it 
 bids him prefer the endurance of a lesser evil before 
 a greater, and nature itself does no less. Religion 
 therefore intrenches upon none of our privileges, in- 
 vades none of our pleasures ; it may indeed some- 
 times command us to change, but never totally to 
 abjure them. 
 
 But it is easily foreseen, that this discourse will in 
 the very beginning of it be encountered by an argu- 
 ment from experience, and therefore not more ob- 
 vious than strong; namely, that it cannot but be the 
 greatest trouble in the world for a man thus (as it 
 were) even to shake off himself, and to defy his na- 
 ture, by a perpetual thwarting of his innate appe- 
 tites and desires; which yet is absolutely necessary 
 to a severe and impartial prosecution of a course of 
 piety : nay, and we have this asserted also, by the 
 verdict of Christ himself, who still makes the disci- 
 plines of self-denial and the cross, those terrible 
 blows to flesh and blood, the indispensable requisites 
 to the being of his disciples. All which being so, 
 would not he that should be so hardy as to attempt 
 to persuade men to piety from the pleasures of it, 
 be liable to that invective taunt from all mankind, 
 that the Israelites gave to Moses ; Wilt thou put 
 out the eyes of this people? Wilt thou persuade us 
 out of our first notions? Wilt thou demonstrate, 
 that there is any delight in a cross, any comfort in 
 
 B 3
 
 6 A SERMON 
 
 violent abridgments, and, which is the greatest para- 
 dox of aD, that the highest pleasure is to abstain 
 from it ? 
 
 For answer to which, it must be confessed, that 
 all arguments whatsoever against experience are 
 fallacious ; and therefore, in order to the clearing of 
 the assertion laid down, I shall premise these two 
 considerations. 
 
 1. That pleasure is in the nature of it a relative 
 thing, and so imports a peculiar relation and corre- 
 spondence to the state and condition of the person 
 to whom it is a pleasure. For as those who dis- 
 course of atoms, affirm, that there are atoms of all 
 forms, some round, some triangular, some square, 
 and the like ; all which are continually in motion, 
 and never settle till they fall into a fit circumscrip- 
 tion or place of the same figure : so there are the 
 like great diversities of minds and objects. Whence 
 it is, that this object striking upon a mind thus or 
 thus disposed, flies off, and rebounds without mak- 
 ing any impression ; but the same luckily happen- 
 ing upon another, of a disposition as it were framed 
 for it, is presently catched at, and greedily clasped 
 into the nearest unions and embraces. 
 
 2. The other thing to be considered is this : that 
 the estate of all men by nature is more or less dif- 
 ferent from that estate, into which the same per- 
 sons do or may pass, by the exercise of that which 
 the philosophers called virtue, and into which men 
 are much more effectually and sublimely translated 
 by that which we call grace ; that is, by the super- 
 natural, overpowering operation of God's Spirit. 
 The difference of which two estates consists in this ; 
 that in the former the sensitive appetites rule and
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 7 
 
 domineer ; in the latter, the supreme faculty of the 
 soul, called reason, sways the sceptre, and acts the 
 whole man above the irregular demands of appetite 
 and affection. 
 
 That the distinction between these two is not a 
 mere figment, framed only to serve an hypothesis in 
 divinity ; and that there is no man but is really 
 under one, before he is under the other, I shall 
 prove, by shewing a reason why it is so, or rather 
 indeed why it cannot but be so. And it is this : 
 because every man in the beginning of his life, for 
 several years is capable only of exercising his sensi- 
 tive faculties and desires, the use of reason not 
 shewing itself till about the seventh year of his age ; 
 and then at length but (as it were) dawning in very 
 imperfect essays and discoveries. Now it being 
 most undeniably evident, that every faculty and 
 power grows stronger and stronger by exercise; is 
 it any wonder at all, when a man for the space of 
 his first six years, and those the years of ductility 
 and impression, has been wholly ruled by the pro- 
 pensions of sense, at that age very eager and impe- 
 tuous ; that then after all, his reason beginning to 
 exert and put forth itself, finds the man prepossessed, 
 and under another power ? So that it has much 
 ado, by many little steps and gradual conquests, to 
 recover its prerogative from the usurpations of appe- 
 tite, and so to subject the whole man to its dictates : 
 the difficulty of which is not conquered by some 
 men all their days. And this is one true ground of 
 the difference between a state of nature and a state of 
 grace, which some are pleased to scoff at in divinity, 
 who think that they confute all that they laugh at, 
 
 E 4
 
 8 A SERMON 
 
 not knowing that it may be solidly evinced by mere 
 reason and philosophy. 
 
 These two considerations being premised, namely, 
 that pleasure implies a proportion and agreement 
 to the respective states and conditions of men ; and 
 that the state of men by nature is vastly different 
 from the estate into which grace or virtue transplants 
 them ; all that objection levelled against the forego- 
 ing assertion is veiy easily resolvable. 
 
 For there is no doubt, but a man, while he re- 
 signs himself up to the brutish guidance of sense 
 and appetite, has no relish at all for the spiritual, 
 refined delights of a soul clarified by grace and vir- 
 tue. The pleasures of an angel can never be the 
 pleasures of a hog. But this is the thing that we 
 contend for ; that a man having once advanced 
 himself to a state of superiority over the control of 
 his inferior appetites, finds an infinitely more solid 
 and sublime pleasure in the delights proper to his 
 reason, than the same person had ever conveyed 
 to him by the bare ministry of his senses. His 
 taste is absolutely changed, and therefore that which 
 pleased him formerly, becomes flat and insipid to 
 his appetite, now grown more masculine and severe. 
 For as age and maturity passes a real and a mar- 
 vellous change upon the diet and recreations of the 
 same person ; so that no man at the years and vi- 
 gour of thirty is either fond of sugar-plumbs or 
 rattles : in like manner, when reason, by the assist- 
 ance of grace, has prevailed over, and outgrown the 
 encroachments of sense, the delights of sensuality 
 are to such an one but as an hobby-horse would be 
 to a counsellor of state, or as tasteless as a bundle
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 9 
 
 of hay to an hungry lion. Every alteration of a 
 man's condition infallibly infers an alteration of his 
 pleasures. 
 
 The Athenians laughed the physiognomist to 
 scorn, who, pretending to read men's minds in their 
 foreheads, described Socrates for a crabbed, lustful, 
 proud, ill-natured person ; they knowing how di- 
 rectly contrary he was to that dirty character. But 
 Socrates bid them forbear laughing at the man, for 
 that he had given them a most exact account of his 
 nature ; but what they saw in him so contrary at 
 the present, was from the conquest that he had got 
 over his natural disposition by philosophy. And 
 now let any one consider, whether that anger, that 
 revenge, that wantonness and ambition, that were 
 the proper pleasures of Socrates, under his natural 
 temper of crabbed, lustful, and proud, could have at 
 all affected or enamoured the mind of the same So- 
 crates, 'made gentle, chaste, and humble by philo- 
 sophy. 
 
 Aristotle says, that were it possible to put a young 
 man's eye into an old man's head, he would see as 
 plainly and clearly as the other : so could we infuse 
 the inclinations and principles of a virtuous person 
 into him that prosecutes his debauches with the 
 greatest keenness of desire and sense of delight, he 
 would loathe and reject them as heartily as he now 
 pursues them. Diogenes, being asked at a feast, 
 why he did not continue eating as the rest did, an- 
 swered him that asked him witli another question, 
 Pray why do you eat ? Why, says lie, for my plea- 
 sure. Why so, says Diogenes, do I abstain for my 
 pleasure. And therefore the vain, the vicious, and 
 luxurious person argues at an high rate of inconse-
 
 10 A SERMON 
 
 quence, when he makes his particular desires the 
 general measure of other men's delights. But the 
 case is so plain, that I shall not upbraid any man's 
 understanding, by endeavouring to give it any far- 
 ther illustration. 
 
 But still, after all, I must not deny, that the 
 change and passage from a state of nature to a state 
 of virtue is laborious, and consequently irksome and 
 unpleasant : and to this it is, that all the foremen- 
 tioned expressions of our Saviour do allude. But 
 surely the baseness of one condition, and the gene- 
 rous excellency of the other, is a sufficient argument 
 to induce any one to a change. For as no man 
 would think it a desirable thing, to preserve the 
 itch upon himself, only for the pleasure of scratch- 
 ing, that attends that loathsome distemper : so nei- 
 ther can any man, that would be faithful to his 
 reason, yield his ear to be bored through by his do- 
 mineering appetites, and so choose to serve them for 
 ever, only for those poor, thin gratifications of sen- 
 suality that they are able to reward him with. The 
 ascent up the hill is hard and tedious, but the sere- 
 nity and fair prospect at the top is sufficient to in- 
 cite the labour of undertaking it, and to reward it, 
 being undertook. But the difference of these two 
 conditions of men, as the foundation of their differ- 
 ent pleasures, being thus made out, to press men 
 with arguments to pass from one to the other, is 
 not directly in the way or design of this discourse. 
 
 Yet before I come to declare positively the plea- 
 sures that are to be found in the ways of religion, 
 one of the grand duties of which is stated upon re- 
 pentance ; a thing expressed to us by the grim 
 names of mortification, crucifixion, and the like : and
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 11 
 
 that I may not proceed only upon absolute nega- 
 tions, without some concessions ; we will see, whe- 
 ther this so harsh, dismal, and affrighting duty of 
 repentance is so entirely gall, as to admit of no mix- 
 ture, no allay of sweetness, to reconcile it to the ap- 
 prehensions of reason and nature. 
 
 Now repentance consists properly of two things : 
 
 1. Sorrow for sin. 
 
 2. Change of life. 
 
 A word briefly of them both. 
 
 1. And first for sorrow for sin : usually, the sting 
 of sorrow' is this, that it neither removes nor alters 
 the thing we sorrow for ; and so is but a kind of re- 
 proach to our reason, which will be sure to accost 
 us with this dilemma. Either the thing we sorrow 
 for, is to be remedied, or it is not : if it is, why then 
 do we spend the time in mourning, which should 
 be spent in an active applying of remedies ? But if 
 it is *ot, then is our sorrow vain and superfluous, 
 as tending to no real effect. For no man can weep 
 his father or his friend out of the grave, or mourn 
 himself out of a bankrupt condition. But this spi- 
 ritual sorrow is effectual to one of the greatest and 
 highest purposes, that mankind can be concerned 
 in. It is a means to avert an impendent wrath, to 
 disarm an offended omnipotence, and even to fetch 
 a soul out of the very jaws of hell. So that the end 
 and consequence of this sorrow sweetens the sorrow 
 itself: and as Solomon says, In the midst of laugh- 
 ter., the heart is sorrowful ; so in the midst of sor- 
 row here, the heart may rejoice : for while it mourns, 
 it reads, that those that mourn shall be comforted ; 
 and so while the penitent weeps with one eye, he
 
 12 A SERMON 
 
 views his deliverance with the other. But then for 
 the external expressions, and vent of sorrow ; we 
 know that there is a certain pleasure in weeping ; it 
 is the discharge of a big and a swelling grief; of a 
 full and a strangling discontent ; and therefore, he 
 that never had sucli a burden upon his heart, as to 
 give him opportunity thus to ease it, has one plea- 
 sure in this world yet to come. 
 
 2. As for the other part of repentance, which is 
 change of life, this indeed may be troublesome in the 
 entrance ; but it is but the first bold onset, the first 
 resolute violence and invasion upon a vicious habit, 
 that is so sharp and afflicting. Every impression of 
 the lancet cuts, but it is the first only that smarts. 
 Besides, it is an argument hugely unreasonable, to 
 plead the pain of passing from a vicious estate, un- 
 less it were proved, that there was none in the con- 
 tinuance under it : but surely, when we read of the 
 service, the bondage, and the captivity of sinners, 
 we are not entertained only with the air of words 
 and metaphors, and, instead of truth, put off with 
 similitudes. Let him that says it is a trouble to re- 
 frain from a debauch, convince us, that it is not a 
 greater to undergo one ; and that the confessor did 
 not impose a shrewd penance upon the drunken man, 
 by bidding him go and be drunk again ; and that 
 lisping, raging, redness of eyes, and what is not fit 
 to be named in such an audience, is not more toil- 
 some, than to be clean, and quiet, and discreet, and 
 respected for being so. All the trouble that is in it, 
 is the trouble of being sound, being cured, and being 
 recovered. But if there be great arguments for 
 health, then certainly there are the same for the
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 13 
 
 obtaining of it ; and so keeping a due proportion 
 between spirituals and temporals, we neither have, 
 nor pretend to greater arguments for repentance. 
 
 Having thus now cleared off all, that by way of 
 objection can lie against the truth asserted, by shew- 
 ing the proper qualification of the subject, to whom 
 only the ways of wisdom can be ways of pleasant- 
 ness ; for the further prosecution of the matter in 
 hand, I shall shew what are those properties that so 
 peculiarly set off and enhance the excellency of 
 this pleasure. 
 
 1. The first is, That it is the proper pleasure of 
 that part of man, which is the largest and most com- 
 prehensive of pleasure, and that is his mind : a 
 substance of a boundless comprehension. The mind 
 of man is an image, not only of God's spirituality, 
 but of his infinity. It is not like any of the senses, 
 limited to this or that kind of object : as the sight 
 intermeddles not with that which affects the smell ; 
 but with an universal superintendence, it arbitrates 
 upon and takes them in all. It is (as 1 may so say) 
 an ocean, into which all the little rivulets of sensa- 
 tion, both external and internal, discharge them- 
 selves. It is framed by God to receive all, and 
 more than nature can afford it ; and so to be its own 
 motive to seek for something above nature. Now 
 this is that part of man to which the pleasures of re- 
 ligion properly belong : and that in a double respect. 
 
 1. In reference to speculation, as it sustains the 
 name of understanding. 
 
 2. In reference to practice, as it sustains the name 
 of conscience. 
 
 1. And first for speculation : the pleasures of which
 
 14 A SERMON 
 
 have been sometimes so great, so intense, so ingress- 
 ing of all the powers of the soul, that there has been 
 no room left for any other pleasure. It has so called 
 together all the spirits to that one work, that there 
 has been no supply to carry on the inferior opera- 
 tions of nature. Contemplation feels no hunger, nor 
 is sensible of any thirst, but of that after knowledge. 
 How frequent and exalted a pleasure did David 
 find from his meditation in the divine law ! All the 
 day long it was the theme of his thoughts. The 
 affairs of state, the government of his kingdom, 
 might indeed employ, but it was this only that 
 refreshed his mind. 
 
 How short of this are the delights of the epicure ! 
 How vastly disproportionate are the pleasures of the 
 eating and of the thinking man ! Indeed as differ- 
 ent as the silence of an Archimedes in the study of 
 a problem, and the stillness of a sow at her wash. 
 Nothing is comparable to the pleasure of an active 
 and a prevailing thought : a thought prevailing over 
 the difficulty and obscurity of the object, and re- 
 freshing the soul with new discoveries and images 
 of things ; and thereby extending the bounds of ap- 
 prehension, and (as it were) enlarging the territories 
 of reason. 
 
 Now this pleasure of the speculation of divine 
 things is advanced upon a double account. 
 
 (1.) The greatness. 
 
 (2.) The newness of the object. 
 
 (1.) And first for the greatness of it. It is no less 
 than the great God himself, and that both in his na- 
 ture and his works. For the eye of reason, like 
 that of the eagle, directs itself chiefly to the sun, to
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 15 
 
 a glory that neither admits of a superior nor an 
 equal. Religion carries the soul to the study of 
 every divine attribute. 
 
 It poses it with the amazing thoughts of omnipo- 
 tence ; of a power able to fetch up such a glorious 
 fabric, as this of the world, out of the abyss of 
 vanity and nothing, and able to throw it back into 
 the same original nothing again. It drowns us in 
 the speculation of the divine omniscience ; that can 
 maintain a steady infallible comprehension of all 
 events in themselves contingent and accidental ; and 
 certainly know that, which does not certainly exist. 
 It confounds the greatest subtilties of speculation, 
 with the riddles of God's omnipresence ; that can 
 spread a single individual substance through all 
 spaces ; and yet without any commensuration of 
 parts to any, or circumscription within any, though 
 totally in every one. And then for his eternity ; 
 which_ nonpluses the strongest and clearest concep- 
 tion, to comprehend how one single act of duration 
 should measure all periods and portions of time, 
 without any of the distinguishing parts of succession. 
 Likewise for his justice ; which shall prey upon the 
 sinner for ever, satisfying itself by a perpetual mi- 
 racle, rendering the creature immortal in the midst 
 of the flames ; always consuming, but never con- 
 sumed. With the like wonders we may entertain 
 our speculations from his mercy ; his beloved, his 
 triumphant attribute ; an attribute, if it were pos- 
 sible, something more than infinite ; for even his 
 justice is so, and his mercy transcends that. Lastly, 
 we may contemplate upon his supernatural, astonish- 
 ing works : particularly in the resurrection, and re- 
 paration of the same numerical body, by a reunion
 
 16 A SERMON 
 
 of all the scattered parts, to be at length disposed of 
 into an estate of eternal woe or bliss ; as also the 
 greatness and strangeness of the beatifick vision ; 
 how a created eye should be so fortified, as to bear 
 all those glories that stream from the fountain of un- 
 created light, the meanest expression of which light 
 is, that it is unexpressible. Now what great and 
 high objects are these, for a rational contemplation' 
 to busy itself upon ! Heights that scorn the reach 
 of our prospect; and depths in which the tallest 
 reason will never touch the bottom : yet surely the 
 pleasure arising from thence is great and noble ; 
 forasmuch as they afford perpetual matter and em- 
 ployment to the inquisitiveness of human reason ; 
 and so are large enough for it to take its full scope 
 and range in : which when it has sucked and drained 
 the utmost of an object, naturally lays it aside, and 
 neglects it as a dry and an empty thing. 
 
 (2.) As the things belonging to religion entertain 
 our speculation with great objects, so they entertain 
 it also with new : and novelty, we know, is the great 
 parent of pleasure ; upon which account it is that 
 men are so much pleased with variety, and variety 
 is nothing else but a continued novelty. The Athe- 
 nians, who were the professed and most diligent im- 
 provers of their reason, made it their whole business 
 to hear or to tell some neiv thing : for the truth is, 
 newness especially in great matters, was a worthy 
 entertainment for a searching mind ; it was (as I 
 may so say) an high taste, fit for the relish of an 
 Athenian reason. And thereupon the mere unheard 
 of strangeness of Jesus and the resurrection, made 
 them desirous to hear it discoursed of to them again, 
 Acts xvii. 23. But how would it have employed
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 17 
 
 their searching faculties, had the mystery of the 
 Trinity, and the incarnation of the Son of God, and 
 the whole economy of man's redemption been ex- 
 plained to them ! For how could it ever enter into 
 the thoughts of reason, that a satisfaction could be 
 paid to an infinite justice ? Or, that two natures so 
 unconceivably different as the human, and divine, 
 could unite into one person ? The knowledge of 
 these things could derive from nothing else but pure 
 revelation, -and consequently must be purely new to 
 the highest discourses of mere nature. Now that 
 the newness of an object so exceedingly pleases and 
 strikes the mind, appears from this one considera- 
 tion ; that every thing pleases more in expectation 
 than fruition : and expectation supposes a thing as 
 yet new, the hoped for discovery of which is the 
 pleasure that entertains the expecting and inquiring 
 mind : whereas actual discovery (as it were) rifles 
 and deflowers the newness and freshness of the ob- 
 ject, and so for the most part makes it cheap, fa- 
 miliar, and contemptible. 
 
 It is clear therefore, that, if there be any pleasure 
 to the mind from speculation, and if this pleasure of 
 speculation be advanced by the greatness and new- 
 ness of the things contemplated upon, all this is to 
 be found in the ways of religion. 
 
 2. In the next place, religion is a pleasure to the 
 mind, as it respects practice, and so sustains the 
 name of conscience. And conscience undoubtedly 
 is the great repository and magazine of all those 
 pleasures that can afford any solid refreshment to 
 the soul. For when this is calm, and serene, and 
 absolving, then properly a man enjoys all things, 
 and what is more, himself; for that he must do, 
 
 VOL. i. c
 
 18 A SERMON 
 
 before he can enjoy any thing else. But it is only 
 a pious life, led exactly by the rules of a severe reli- 
 gion, that can authorize a man's conscience to speak 
 comfortably to him : it is this that must word the 
 sentence, before the conscience can pronounce it, 
 and then it will do it with majesty and authority: 
 it will not whisper, but proclaim a jubilee to the 
 mind; it will not drop, but pour in oil upon the 
 wounded heart. And is there any pleasure com- 
 parable to that which springs from hence ? The 
 pleasure of conscience is not only greater than all 
 other pleasures, but may also serve instead of them : 
 for they only please and affect the mind in transifu, 
 in the pitiful narrow compass of actual fruition ; 
 whereas that of conscience entertains and feeds it a 
 long time after with durable, lasting reflections. 
 
 And thus much for the first ennobling property of 
 the pleasure belonging to religion ; namely, That it 
 is the pleasure of the mind, and that both as it re- 
 lates to speculation, and is called the understanding, 
 and as it relates to practice, and is called the con- 
 science. 
 
 II. The second ennobling property of it is, That 
 it is such a pleasure as never satiates or wearies : 
 for it properly affects the spirit, and a spirit feels no 
 weariness, as being privileged from the causes of it. 
 But can the epicure say so of any of the pleasures 
 that he so much dotes upon ? Do they not expire, 
 while they satisfy? And after a few minutes re- 
 freshment, determine in loathing and unquietness ? 
 How short is the interval between a pleasure and a 
 burden ? How undiscernible the transition from one 
 to the other? Pleasure dwells no longer upon the 
 appetite, than the necessities of nature, which are
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 19 
 
 quickly and easily provided for ; and then all that 
 follows is a load and an oppression. Every morsel 
 to a satisfied hunger, is only a new labour to a tired 
 digestion. Every draught to him that has quenched 
 his thirst, is but a farther quenching of nature ; a 
 provision for rheum and diseases, a drowning of the 
 quickness and activity of the spirits. 
 
 He that prolongs his meals, and sacrifices his time, 
 as well as his other conveniences, to his luxury, 
 how quickly does he out-sit his pleasure ! And then, 
 how is all the following time bestowed upon cere- 
 mony and surfeit ! till at length, after a long fatigue 
 of eating, and drinking, and babbling, he concludes 
 the great work of dining genteelly, and so makes a 
 shift to rise from table, that he may lie down upon 
 his bed : where, after he has slept himself into some 
 use of himself, by much ado he staggers to his table 
 again, and there acts over the same brutish scene : 
 so that he passes his whole life in a dozed condition 
 between sleeping and waking, with a kind of drow- 
 siness and confusion upon his senses ; which, what 
 pleasure it can be, is hard to conceive ; all that is of 
 it, dwells upon the tip of his tongue, and within 
 the compass of his palate : a worthy prize for a man 
 to purchase with the loss of his time, his reason, and 
 himself. 
 
 Nor is that man less deceived, that thinks to 
 maintain a constant tenure of pleasure, by a conti- 
 nual pursuit of sports and recreations : for it is most 
 certainly true of all these things, that as they refresh 
 a man when he is weary, so they weary him when 
 he is refreshed ; which is an evident demonstration 
 that God never designed the use of them to be con- 
 
 C 2
 
 20 A SERMON 
 
 tinual; by putting such an emptiness in them, as 
 should so quickly fail and lurch expectation. 
 
 The most voluptuous and loose person breathing, 
 were he but tied to follow his hawks and his 
 hounds, his dice and his courtships every day, would 
 find it the greatest torment and calamity that could 
 befall him ; he would fly to the mines and the gal- 
 leys for his recreation, and to the spade and the 
 mattock for a diversion from the misery of a conti- 
 nual unintermitted pleasure. 
 
 But on the contrary, the providence of God has so 
 ordered the course of things, that there is no action, 
 the usefulness of which has made it the matter of 
 duty, and of a profession, but a man may bear the 
 continual pursuit of it, without loathing or satiety. 
 The same shop and trade that employs a man in his 
 youth, employs him also in his age. Every morning 
 he rises fresh to his hammer and his anvil ; he passes 
 the day singing : custom has naturalized his labour 
 to him : his shop is his element, and he cannot with 
 any enjoyment of himself live out of it. Whereas 
 no custom can make the painfulness of a debauch 
 easy or pleasing to a man ; since nothing can be 
 pleasant that is unnatural. But now, if God has 
 interwoven such a pleasure with the works of our 
 ordinary calling ; how much superior and more re- 
 fined must that be, that arises from the survey of a 
 pious and well governed life! Surely, as much as 
 Christianity is nobler than a trade. 
 
 And then, for the constant freshness of it ; it is 
 such a pleasure as can never cloy or overwork the 
 mind: for surely no man was ever weary of thinking, 
 much less of thinking that he had done well or vir-
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 21 
 
 tuously, that he had conquered such and such a 
 temptation, or offered violence to any of his exorbi- 
 tant desires. This is a delight that grows and im- 
 proves under thought and reflection : and while it 
 exercises, does also endear itself to the mind ; at the 
 same time employing and inflaming the medita- 
 tions. All pleasures that affect the body, must 
 needs weary, because they transport ; and all trans- 
 portation is a violence ; and no violence can be 
 lasting, but determines upon the falling of the spi- 
 rits, which are not able to keep up that height of 
 motion that the pleasure of the senses raises them 
 to : and therefore how inevitably does an immoderate 
 laughter end in a sigh ! which is only nature's re- 
 covering itself after a force done to it. But the reli- 
 gious pleasure of a well disposed mind moves gently, 
 and therefore constantly : it does not affect by rap- 
 ture and ecstasy ; but is like the pleasure of health, 
 whidi is still and sober, yet greater and stronger 
 than those that call up the senses with grosser and 
 more affecting impressions. God has given no man 
 a body as strong as his appetites ; but has corrected 
 the boundlesness of his voluptuous desires, by stint- 
 ing his strengths, and contracting his capacities. 
 
 But to look upon those pleasures also that have 
 an higher object than the body ; as those that 
 spring from honour and grandeur of condition ; yet 
 we shall find, that even these are not so fresh and 
 constant, but the mind can nauseate them, and 
 quickly feel the thinness of a popular breath. Those 
 that are so fond of applause while they pursue it, 
 how little do they taste it when they have it ! Like 
 lightning, it only flashes upon the face, and is gone; 
 and it is well if it does not hurt the man. But for 
 
 c 3
 
 22 A SERMON 
 
 greatness of place, though it is fit and necessary 
 that some persons in the world should be in love 
 with a splendid servitude ; yet certainly they must 
 be much beholding to their own fancy, that they 
 can be pleased at it. For he that rises up early, 
 and goes to bed late, only to receive addresses, to 
 read and answer petitions, is really as much tied and 
 abridged in his freedom, as he that waits all that 
 time to present one. And what pleasure can it be 
 to be incumbered with dependences, thronged and 
 surrounded with petitioners? And those perhaps 
 sometimes all suitors for the same thing : where- 
 upon all but one will be sure to depart grumbling, 
 because they miss of what they think their due : 
 and even that one scarce thankful, because he thinks 
 he has no more than his due. In a word, if it is a 
 pleasure to be envied and shot at, to be maligned 
 standing, and to be despised falling, to endeavour 
 that which is impossible, which is to please all, and 
 to suffer for not doing it ; then is it a pleasure to 
 be great, and to be able to dispose of men's for- 
 tunes and preferments. 
 
 But farther, to proceed from hence to yet an 
 higher degree of pleasure, indeed the highest on 
 this side that of religion ; which is the pleasure of 
 friendship and conversation. Friendship must con- 
 fessedly be allowed the top, the flower, and crown of 
 all temporal enjoyments. Yet has not this also its 
 flaws and its dark side? For is not my friend a 
 man ; and is not friendship subject to the same mor- 
 tality and change that men are ? And in case a man 
 loves, and is not loved again, does he not think that 
 he has cause to hate as heartily, and ten times more 
 eagerly than ever he loved? And then to be an
 
 ON PRO VERBS III. 17. 23 
 
 enemy, and once to have been a friend, does it not 
 embitter the rupture, and aggravate the calamity ? 
 But admitting that my friend continues so to the 
 end ; yet in the mean time, is he all perfection, all 
 virtue and discretion ? Has he not humours to be 
 endured, as well as kindnesses to be enjoyed ? And 
 am I sure to smell the rose, without sometimes feel- 
 ing the thorn ? 
 
 And then lastly for company ; though it may re- 
 prieve a man from his melancholy, yet it cannot se- 
 cure him from his conscience, nor from sometimes 
 being alone. And what is all that a man enjoys, 
 from a week's, a month's, or a year's converse, com- 
 parable to what he feels for one hour, when his con- 
 science shall take him aside, and rate him by him- 
 self? 
 
 In short, run over the whole circle of all earthly 
 pleasures, and I dare affirm, that had not God se- 
 cured a man a solid pleasure from his own actions, 
 after he had rolled from one to another, and enjoyed 
 them all, he would be forced to complain, that ei- 
 ther they were not indeed pleasures, or that plea- 
 sure was not satisfaction. 
 
 III. The third ennobling property of the pleasure 
 that accrues to a man from religion, is, that it is 
 such an one as is in nobody's power, but only in his 
 that has it; so that he that has the property may 
 be also sure of the perpetuity. And tell me so of 
 any outward enjoyment that mortality is capable of. 
 We are generally at the mercy of men's rapine, ava- 
 rice, and violence, whether we shall be happy or no. 
 For if I build my felicity upon my estate or reputa- 
 tion, I am happy as long as the tyrant or the railer 
 will give me leave to be so. But when my concern- 
 
 c 4
 
 24 A SERMON 
 
 ment takes up no more room or compass than my- 
 self; then so long as I know where to breathe and 
 to exist, I know also where to be happy: for I 
 know I may be so in my own breast, in the court of 
 my own conscience; where, if I can but prevail 
 with myself to be innocent, I need bribe neither 
 judge nor officer to be pronounced so. The plea- 
 sure of the religious man is an easy and a portable 
 pleasure, such an one as he carries about in his bo- 
 som, without alarming either the eye or envy of 
 the world. A man putting all his pleasures into 
 this one, is like a traveller's putting all his goods 
 into one jewel ; the value is the same, and the con- 
 venience greater. 
 
 There is nothing that can raise a man to that 
 generous absoluteness of condition, as neither to 
 cringe, to fawn, or to depend meanly ; but that 
 which gives him that happiness within himself, for 
 which men depend upon others. For surely I need 
 salute no great man's threshold, sneak to none of 
 his friends or servants, to speak a good word for me 
 to my conscience. It is -a noble and a sure defiance 
 of a great malice, backed with a great interest; 
 which yet can have no advantage of a man, but 
 from his own expectations -of something that is 
 without himself. But if I can make my duty my 
 delight ; if I can feast, and please, and caress my 
 mind with the pleasures of worthy speculations or 
 virtuous practices; let greatness and malice vex and 
 abridge me if they can : my pleasures are as free as 
 my will ; no more to be controlled than my choice, 
 or the unlimited range of my thoughts and my de- 
 sires. 
 
 Nor is this kind of pleasure only out of the reach
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 25 
 
 of any outward violence, but even those things also 
 that make a much closer impression upon us, which 
 are the irresistible decays of nature, have yet no in- 
 fluence at all upon this. For when age itself, which 
 of all things in the world will not be baffled or de- 
 fied, shah" begin to arrest, seize, and remind us of 
 our mortality, by pains, aches, deadness of limbs, 
 and dulness of senses ; yet then the pleasure of the 
 mind shall be in its full youth, vigour, and fresh- 
 ness. A palsy may as well shake an oak, or a fever 
 dry up a fountain, as either of them shake, dry up, 
 or impair the delight of conscience. For it lies 
 within, it centers in the heart, it grows into the very 
 substance of the soul, so that it accompanies a man 
 to his grave ; he never outlives it, and that for this 
 cause only, because he cannot outlive himself. 
 
 And thus I have endeavoured to describe the ex- 
 cellency of that pleasure that is to be found in the 
 ways, of a religious wisdom, by those excellent pro- 
 perties that do attend it; which, whether they reach 
 the description that has been given them, or no, 
 every man may convince himself, by the best of de- 
 monstrations, which is his own trial. 
 
 Now from all this discourse, this I am sure is a 
 most natural and direct consequence, that if the 
 ways of religion are ways of pleasantness, then such 
 as are not ways of pleasantness are not truly and 
 properly ways of religion. Upon which ground, it 
 is easy to see what judgment is to be passed upon 
 all those affected, uncommanded, absurd austerities, 
 so much prized and exercised by some of the Rom- 
 ish profession. Pilgrimages, going barefoot, hair- 
 shirts, and whips, with other such gospel artillery, 
 are their only helps to devotion : things never en-
 
 26 A SERMON 
 
 joined, either by the prophets under the Jewish, or 
 by the apostles under the Christian economy ; who 
 yet surely understood the proper and the most effi- 
 cacious instruments of piety, as well as any con- 
 fessor or friar of all the order of St. Francis, or any 
 casuist whatsoever. 
 
 It seems, that with them a man sometimes can- 
 not be a penitent, unless he also turns vagabond, 
 and foots it to Jerusalem ; or wanders over this or 
 that part of the world to visit the shrine of such or 
 such a pretended saint ; though perhaps, in his life, 
 ten times more ridiculous than themselves : thus, 
 that which was Cain's curse is become their reli- 
 gion. He that thinks to expiate a sin by going 
 barefoot, does the penance of a goose, and only 
 makes one folly the atonement of another. Paul in- 
 deed was scourged and beaten by the Jews, but we 
 never read that he beat or scourged himself: and if 
 they think that his keeping under of his body im- 
 ports so much, they must first prove that the body 
 cannot be kept under by a virtuous mind, and that 
 the mind cannot be made virtuous but by a scourge ; 
 and consequently, that thongs and whipcord are 
 means of grace, and things necessary to salvation. 
 The truth is, if men's religion lies no deeper than 
 their skin, it is possible that they may scourge them- 
 selves into very great improvements. 
 
 But they will find that bodily exercise touches 
 not the soul; and that neither pride, nor lust, nor co- 
 vetousness, nor any other vice, was ever mortified by 
 corporal disciplines: it is not the back, but the heart 
 that must bleed for sin : and consequently, that in 
 this whole course they are like men out of their 
 way ; let them lash on never so fast, they are not at
 
 ON PROVERBS III. 17. 27 
 
 all the nearer to their journey's end : and howsoever 
 they deceive themselves and others, they may as 
 well expect to bring a cart as a soul to heaven by 
 such means. What arguments they have to beguile 
 poor, simple, unstable souls with, I know not ; but 
 surely the practical, casuistical, that is, the princi- 
 pal, vital part of their religion savours very little of 
 spirituality. 
 
 And now upon the result of all, I suppose, that to 
 exhort men to be religious, is only in other words to 
 exhort them to take their pleasure. A pleasure, 
 high, rational, and angelical ; a pleasure embased 
 with no appendant sting, no consequent loathing, no 
 remorses or bitter farewells : but such an one, as be- 
 ing honey in the mouth, never turns to gall or gra- 
 vel in the belly. A pleasure made for the soul, and 
 the soul for that ; suitable to its spirituality, and 
 equal to all its capacities. Such an one as grows 
 freshej upon enjoyment, and though continually fed 
 upon, yet is never devoured. A pleasure that a man 
 may call as properly his own, as his soul and his 
 conscience; neither liable to accident, nor exposed 
 to injury. It is the foretaste of heaven, and the 
 earnest of eternity. In a word, it is such an one, as 
 being begun in grace, passes into glory, blessedness, 
 and immortality, and those pleasures that neither 
 eye has seen., nor ear heard, nor has it entered 
 into the heart of man to conceive. 
 
 To which God of his mercy vouchsafe to bring 
 us all: to whom be rendered and ascribed, 
 as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, 
 and dominion, both now and for evermore. 
 Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF ST. PAUL'S, 
 
 NOVEMBER THE 9th, 1662. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the 
 City of London. 
 
 Right honourable, 
 
 WHEN I consider how impossible it is for a person of 
 my condition to produce, and consequently how imprudent 
 to attempt, any thing in proportion either to the ampleness 
 of the body you represent, or of the places you bear, I 
 should be kept from venturing so poor a piece, designed to 
 live but an hour, in so lasting a publication ; did not what 
 your civility calls a request, your greatness render a com- 
 mand. The truth is, in things not unlawful, great persons 
 cannot be properly said to request ; because, all things con- 
 sidered, they must not be denied. To me it was honour 
 enough to have your audience, enjoyment enough to behold 
 your happy change, and to see the same city, the metropo- 
 lis of loyalty and of the kingdom, to behold the glory of 
 English churches reformed, that is, delivered from the re- 
 formers ; and to find at least the service of the church re- 
 paired, though not the building; to see St. Paul's delivered 
 from beasts here, as well as St. Paul at Ephesus ; and to 
 view the church thronged only with troops of auditors, not 
 of horse. This I could fully have acquiesced in, and re-
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 29 
 
 ceived a large personal reward in my particular share of the 
 public joy ; but since you are farther pleased, I will not 
 say by your judgment to approve, but by your acceptance 
 to encourage the raw endeavours of a young divine, I shall 
 take it for an opportunity, not as others in their sage pru- 
 dence use to do, to quote three or four texts of scripture, 
 and to tell you how you are to rule the city out of a con- 
 cordance ; no, I bring not instructions, but what much bet- 
 ter befits both you and myself, your commendations. For 
 I look upon your city as the great and magnificent stage of 
 business, and by consequence the best place of improve- 
 ment; for from the school we go to the university, but 
 from the universities to London. And therefore as in your 
 city meetings you must be esteemed the most considerable 
 body of the nation; so, met in the church, I look upon you 
 as an auditory fit to be waited on, as you are, by both uni- 
 versities. And when I remember how instrumental you 
 have been to recover this universal settlement, and to re- 
 trieve the old spirit of loyalty to kings, (as an ancient testi- 
 mony of which you bear not the sword in vain;) I seem 
 in a manner deputed from Oxford, not so much a preacher 
 to suppiy a course, as orator to present her thanks. As for 
 the ensuing discourse, which (lest I chance to be traduced 
 for a plagiary by him who has played the thief) I think fit 
 to tell the world by the way, was one of those that by a 
 worthy hand were stolen from me in the king's chapel, and 
 are still detained ; and to which now accidentally published 
 by your honour's order, your patronage must give both 
 value and protection. You will find me in it not to have 
 pitched upon any subject, that men's guilt, and the conse- 
 quent of guilt, their concernment might render liable to 
 exception; nor to have rubbed up the memory of what 
 some heretofore in the city did, which more and better now 
 detest, and therefore expiate : but my subject is inoffensive, 
 harmless, and innocent as the state of innocence itself, and 
 (I hope) suitable to the present design and genius of this 
 nation ; which is, or should be, to return to that innocence, 
 which it lost long since the fall. Brieflv, my business is, by
 
 30 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 describing what man was in his first estate, to upbraid him 
 with what he is in his present: between whom, innocent 
 and fallen, (that in a word I may suit the subject to the 
 place of my discourse,) there is as great an unlikeness, as 
 between St. Paul's a cathedral, and St. Paul's a stable. 
 But I must not forestall myself, nor transcribe the work 
 into the dedication. I shall now only desire you to accept 
 the issue of your own requests ; the gratification of which 
 I have here consulted so much before my own reputation ; 
 while like the poor widow I endeavour to shew my officious- 
 ness by an offering, though I betray my poverty by the 
 measure; not so much caring, though I appear neither 
 preacher nor scholar, (which terms we have been taught 
 upon good reason to distinguish,) so I may in this but 
 shew myself 
 
 Your honour's 
 
 Worcester-House, very humble servant, 
 
 Nor. 24, 1662. ROBERT SOUTH.
 
 GENESIS i. 27. 
 
 So God created man in his own image^ in the image of 
 God created he him. 
 
 idOW hard it is for natural reason to discover a 
 creation before revealed, or being revealed to believe 
 it, the strange opinions of the old philosophers, and 
 the infidelity of modern atheists, is too sad a demon- 
 stration. To run the world back to its first original 
 and infancy, and (as it were) to view nature in its 
 cradle, to trace the outgoings of the Ancient of 
 days in the first instance and specimen of his cre- 
 ative power, is a research too great for any mortal 
 inquiry : and we might continue our scrutiny to the 
 end of the world, before natural reason would be 
 able to find out when it begun. 
 
 Epicurus's discourse concerning the original of the 
 worlcT is so fabulous and ridiculously merry, that we 
 may well judge the design of his philosophy to have 
 been pleasure, and not instruction. 
 
 Aristotle held, that it streamed by connatural re- 
 sult and emanation from God, the infinite and eter- 
 nal mind, as the light issues from the sun ; so that 
 there was no instant of duration assignable of God's 
 eternal existence, in which the world did not also 
 coexist. 
 
 Others held a fortuitous concourse of atoms ; but 
 all seem jointly to explode a creation ; still beating 
 upon this ground, that to produce something out 
 of nothing is impossible and incomprehensible : in- 
 comprehensible indeed I grant, but not therefore im- 
 possible. There is not the least transaction of sense
 
 32 A SERMON 
 
 and motion in the whole man, but philosophers are at 
 a loss to comprehend, I am sure they are to explain 
 it. Wherefore it is not always rational to measure 
 the truth of an assertion by the standard of our ap- 
 prehension. 
 
 But to bring things even to the bare perceptions 
 of reason, I appeal to any one, who shall impartially 
 reflect upon the ideas and conceptions of his own 
 mind, whether he doth not find it as easy and suit- 
 able to his natural notions, to conceive that an infi- 
 nite almighty power might produce a thing out of 
 nothing, and make that to exist de novo, which did 
 not exist before ; as to conceive the world to have 
 had no beginning, but to have existed from eternity: 
 which, were it so proper for this place and exercise, 
 I could easily demonstrate to be attended with no 
 small train of absurdities. But then, besides that 
 the acknowledging of a creation is safe, and the de- 
 nial of it dangerous and irreligious, and yet not 
 more (perhaps much less) demonstrable than the af- 
 firmative ; so, over and above, it gives me this ad- 
 vantage, that, let it seem never so strange, uncouth, 
 and impossible, the nonplus of my reason will yield 
 a fairer opportunity to my faith. 
 
 In this chapter, we have God surveying the 
 works of the creation, and leaving this general im- 
 press or character upon them, that they were ex- 
 ceeding good. What an omnipotence wrought, we 
 have an omniscience to approve. But as it is rea- 
 sonable to imagine that there is more of design, and 
 consequently more of perfection, in the last work, 
 we have God here giving his last stroke, and sum- 
 ming up all into man, the whole into a part, the 
 universe into an individual: so that, whereas in
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 33 
 
 other creatures we have but the trace of his foot- 
 steps, in man we have the draught of his hand. In 
 him were united all the scattered perfections of the 
 creature ; all the graces and ornaments, all the airs 
 and features of being, were abridged into this small, 
 yet full system of nature and divinity : as we might 
 well imagine that the great artificer would be more 
 than ordinarily exact in drawing his own picture. 
 
 The work that I shall undertake from these 
 words, shall be to shew what this image of God in 
 man is, and wherein it doth consist. Which I shall 
 do these two ways : 1. Negatively, by shewing 
 wherein it does not consist. 2. Positively, by shew- 
 ing wherein it does. 
 
 For the first of these, we are to remove the erro- 
 neous opinion of the Socinians. They deny that 
 the image of God consisted in any habitual per- 
 fections that adorned the soul of Adam : but as to 
 his understanding bring him in void of all notion, a 
 rude unwritten blank ; making him to be created 
 as much an infant as others are born ; sent into 
 the world only to read and spell out a God in the 
 works of creation, to learn by degrees, till at length 
 his understanding grew up to the stature of his 
 body.. Also without any inherent habits of virtue 
 in his will ; thus divesting him of all, and stripping 
 him to his bare essence ; so that all the perfection 
 they allowed his understanding was aptness and do- 
 cility ; and all that they attributed to his will was a 
 possibility to be virtuous. 
 
 But wherein then, according to their opinion, did 
 this image of God consist ? Why, in that power and 
 dominion that God gave Adam over the creatures : 
 in that he was vouched his immediate deputy upon 
 
 VOL. i. D
 
 34 A SERMON 
 
 earth, the viceroy of the creation, and lord-lieu- 
 tenant of the world. But that this power and do- 
 minion is not adequately and formally the image of 
 God, but only a part of it, is clear from hence ; be- 
 cause then he that had most of this, would have 
 most of God's image : and consequently Nimrod had 
 more of it than Noah, Saul than Samuel, the perse- 
 cutors than the martyrs, and Caesar than Christ 
 himself, which to assert is a blasphemous paradox. 
 And if the image of God is only grandeur, power, 
 and sovereignty, certainly we have been hitherto 
 much mistaken in our duty : and hereafter are by 
 all means to beware of making ourselves unlike 
 God, by too much self-denial and humility. I am 
 not ignorant that some may distinguish between 
 f%ov<ria, and Ivva^ig, between a lawful authority and an 
 actual power : and affirm, that God's image consists 
 only in the former; which wicked princes, such as 
 Saul and Nimrod, have not, though they possess the 
 latter. But to this I answer, 
 
 1. That the scripture neither makes nor owns 
 such a distinction ; nor any where asserts, that when 
 princes begin to be wicked, they cease of right to be 
 governors. Add to this, that when God renewed 
 this charter of man's sovereignty over the creatures 
 to Noah and his family, we find no exception at all, 
 but that Cham stood as fully invested with this 
 right as any of his brethren. 
 
 2. But secondly; this savours of something ranker 
 than Socinianism, even the tenents of the fifth mo- 
 narchy, and of sovereignty founded only upon saint- 
 thip; and therefore fitter to be answered by the 
 judge, than by the divine; and to receive its confuta- 
 tion at the bar of justice, than from the pulpit.
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 35 
 
 Having now made our way through this false 
 opinion, we are in the next place to lay down posi- 
 tively what this image of God in man is. It is, in 
 short, that universal rectitude of all the faculties 
 of the soul, by which they stand apt and disposed to 
 their respective offices and operations : which will be 
 more fully set forth, by taking a distinct survey of 
 it, in the several faculties belonging to the soul. 
 
 I. In the understanding. 
 
 II. In the will. 
 
 III. In the passions or affections. 
 
 I. And first for its noblest faculty, the under- 
 standing : it was then sublime, clear, and aspiring, 
 and, as it were, the soul's upper region, lofty and 
 serene, free from the vapours and disturbances of 
 the inferior affections. It was the leading, control- 
 ling faculty; all the passions wore the colours of rea- 
 son ; it did not so much persuade, as command ; it 
 was not consul, but dictator. Discourse was then 
 almost as quick as intuition ; it was nimble in pro- 
 posing, firm in concluding ; it could sooner deter- 
 mine than now it can dispute. Like the sun, it 
 had both light and agility ; it knew no rest, but in 
 motion ; no quiet, but in activity. It did not so 
 properly apprehend, as irradiate the object ; not so 
 much find, as make things intelligible. It did arbi- 
 trate upon the several reports of sense, and all the 
 varieties of imagination ; not like a drowsy judge, 
 only hearing, but also directing their verdict. In 
 sum, it was vegete, quick, and lively ; open as the 
 day, untainted as the morning, full of the innocence 
 and sprightliness of youth; it gave the soul a bright 
 and a full view into all things ; and was not only a 
 window, but itself the prospect. Briefly, there is as 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A SERMON 
 
 much difference between the clear representations 
 of the understanding then, and the obscure discove- 
 ries that it makes now, as there is between the pro- 
 spect of a casement and of a key-hole. 
 
 Now as there are two great functions of the soul, 
 contemplation and practice, according to that gene- 
 ral division of objects, some of which only entertain 
 our speculation, others also employ our actions ; so 
 the understanding with relation to these, not because 
 of any distinction in the faculty itself, is accordingly 
 divided intr speculative and practick ; in both of 
 which the image of God was then apparent. 
 
 1. For the understanding speculative. There are 
 some general maxims and notions in the mind of 
 man, which are the rules of discourse, and the basis 
 of all philosophy. As, that the same thing can- 
 not at the same time, be, and not be ; that the 
 whole is bigger than a part; that two proportions 
 equal to a third, must also be equal to one an- 
 other. Aristotle, indeed, affirms the mind to be at 
 first a mere rasa tabula; and that these notions 
 are not ingenite, and imprinted by the finger of na- 
 ture, but by the latter and more languid impressions 
 of sense ; being only the reports of observation, and 
 the result of so many repeated experiments. 
 
 But to this I answer two things. 
 
 (1.) That these notions are universal ; and what 
 is universal must needs proceed from some univer- 
 sal, constant principle, the same in all particulars, 
 which here can be nothing else but human nature. 
 
 (2.) These cannot be infused by observation, be- 
 cause they are the rules by which men take their 
 first apprehensions and observations of things, and 
 therefore in order of nature must needs precede
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 37 
 
 them : as the being of the rule must be before its 
 application to the thing directed by it. From whence 
 it follows, that these were notions, not descending 
 from us, but born with us ; not our offspring, but 
 our brethren : and (as I may so say) such as we 
 were taught without the help of a teacher. 
 
 Now it was Adam's happiness in the state of in- 
 nocence to have these clear and unsullied. He came 
 into the world a philosopher, which sufficiently ap- 
 peared by his writing the nature of things upon 
 their names ; he could view essences in themselves, 
 and read forms without the comment of their re- 
 spective properties : he could see consequents yet 
 dormant in their principles, and effects yet unborn, 
 and in the womb of their causes : his understanding 
 could almost pierce into future contingents, his con- 
 jectures improving even to prophecy, or the certain- 
 ties of prediction ; till his fall, it was ignorant of 
 nothing but of sin ; or at least it rested in the no- 
 tion, without the smart of the experiment. Could 
 any difficulty have been proposed, the resolution 
 would have been as early as the proposal ; it could 
 not have had time to settle into doubt. Like a bet- 
 ter Archimedes, the issue of all his inquiries w r as an 
 evpyKa, an evpyKa, the offspring of his brain without 
 the sweat of his brow. Study was not then a duty, 
 night-watchings were needless ; the light of reason 
 wanted not the assistance of a candle. This is the 
 doom of fallen man, to labour in the fire, to seek 
 truth in prof undo, to exhaust his time and impair 
 his health, and perhaps to spin out his days, and 
 himself, into one pitiful, controverted conclusion. 
 There was then no poring, no struggling with me- 
 mory, no straining for invention : his faculties were 
 
 D 3
 
 38 A SERMON 
 
 quick and expedite ; they answered without knock- 
 ing, they were ready upon the first summons, there 
 was freedom and firmness in all their operations. 
 I confess, it is difficult for us, who date our igno- 
 rance from our first being, and were still bred up 
 with the same infirmities about us with which we 
 were born, to raise our thoughts and imagination 
 to those intellectual perfections that attended our 
 nature in the time of innocence ; as it is for a pea- 
 sant bred up in the obscurities of a cottage, to fancy 
 in his mind the unseen splendors of a court. But 
 by rating positives by their privatives, and other 
 arts of reason, by which discourse supplies the want 
 of the reports of sense, we may collect the excel- 
 lency of the understanding then, by the glorious re- 
 mainders of it now, and guess at the stateliness of 
 the building, by the magnificence of its ruins. All 
 those arts, rarities, and inventions, which vulgar 
 minds gaze at, the ingenious pursue, and all admire, 
 are but the reliques of an intellect defaced with sin 
 and time. We admire it now, only as antiquaries 
 do a piece of old coin, for the stamp it once bore, 
 and not for those vanishing lineaments and disap- 
 pearing draughts that remain upon it at present. 
 And certainly that must needs have been very glo- 
 rious, the decays of which are so admirable. He 
 that is comely, when old and decrepid, surely was 
 very beautiful when he was young. An Aristotle 
 was but the rubbish of an Adam, and Athens but 
 the rudiments of Paradise. 
 
 2. The image of God was no less resplendent in 
 that which we call man's practical understanding; 
 namely, that storehouse of the soul, in which are 
 treasured* up the rules of action and the seeds of
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 39 
 
 morality. Where, we must observe, that many who 
 deny all connate notions in the speculative intellect, 
 do yet admit them in this. Now of this sort are 
 these maxims ; that God is to be worshipped ; that 
 parents are to be honoured ; that a man's word is 
 to be kept, and the like : which, being of universal 
 influence, as to the regulation of the behaviour and 
 converse of mankind, are the ground of all virtue 
 and civility, and the foundation of religion. 
 
 It was the privilege of Adam innocent, to have 
 these notions also firm and untainted, to carry his 
 monitor in his bosom, his law in his heart, and to 
 have such a conscience as might be its own casuist : 
 and certainly those actions must needs be regular, 
 where there is an identity between the rule and the 
 faculty. His own mind taught him a due depend- 
 ance upon God, and chalked out to him the just 
 proportions and measures of behaviour to his fellow 
 creatures. He had no catechism but the creation, 
 needed no study but reflection, read no book, but the 
 volume of the world, and that too, not for rules to 
 work by, but for objects to work upon. Reason 
 was his tutor, and first principles his magna mora- 
 lia. The decalogue of Moses was but a transcript, 
 not an original. All the laws of nations, and wise 
 decrees of states, the statutes of Solon, and the 
 twelve tables, were but a paraphrase upon this 
 standing rectitude of nature, this fruitful principle 
 of justice, that was ready to run out, and enlarge it- 
 self into suitable determinations, upon all emergent 
 objects and occasions. Justice then was neither 
 blind to discern, nor lame to execute. It was not 
 subject to be imposed upon by a deluded fancy, nor 
 yet to be bribed by a glozing appetite, for an utile 
 
 D 4
 
 40 A SERMON 
 
 orjucundum to turn the balance to a false and disho- 
 nest sentence. In all its directions of the inferior 
 faculties, it conveyed its suggestions with clearness, 
 and enjoined them with power ; it had the passions 
 in perfect subjection ; and though its command over 
 them was but suasive and political, yet it had the 
 force of coaction, and despotical. It was not then, 
 as it is now, where the conscience has only power to 
 disapprove, and to protest against the exorbitances 
 of the passions; and rather to wish, than make 
 them otherwise. The voice of conscience now is 
 low and weak, chastising the passions, as old Eli did 
 his lustful, domineering sons ; Not so, my sons, not 
 so ; but the voice of conscience then was not, This 
 should, or This ought to be done ; but, This must, 
 This shall be done. It spoke like a legislator ; the 
 thing spoke was a law; and the manner of speaking it 
 a new obligation. In short, there was as great a dis- 
 parity between the practical dictates of the under- 
 standing then and now, as there is between empire 
 and advice, counsel and command, between a com- 
 panion and a governor. 
 
 And thus much for the image of God, as it shone 
 in man's understanding. 
 
 II. Let us in the next place take a view of it, as 
 it was stamped upon the will. It is much disputed 
 by divines concerning the power of man's will to 
 good and evil in the state of innocence ; and upon 
 very nice and dangerous precipices stand their de- 
 terminations on either side. Some hold, that God 
 invested him with a power to stand, so that in the 
 strength of that power received, he might, without 
 the auxiliaries of any farther influence, have deter- 
 mined his will to a full choice of good. Others hold,
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 41 
 
 that notwithstanding this power, yet it was impos- 
 sible for him to exert it in any good action, without 
 a superadded assistance of grace, actually determin- 
 ing that power to the certain production of such an 
 act. So that, whereas some distinguish between 
 sufficient and effectual grace ; they order the mat- 
 ter so as to acknowledge none sufficient, but what is 
 indeed effectual, and actually productive of a good 
 action. I shall not presume to interpose dogmati- 
 cally in a controversy, which I look never to see de- 
 cided. But concerning the latter of these opinions, 
 I shall only give these two remarks. 
 
 1. That it seems contrary to the common and na- 
 tural conceptions of all mankind, who acknowledge 
 themselves able and sufficient to do many things, 
 which actually they never do. 
 
 2. That to assert, that God looked upon Adam's 
 fall as a sin, and punished it as such, when, without 
 any antecedent sin of his, he withdrew that actual 
 grace from him, upon the withdrawing of which, it 
 was impossible for him not to fall, seems a thing 
 that highly reproaches the essential equity and good- 
 ness of the divine nature. 
 
 Wherefore, doubtless the will of man in the state 
 of innocence had an entire freedom, a perfect equi- 
 pendency and indifference to either part of the con- 
 tradiction, to stand, or not to stand ; to accept, or 
 not accept the temptation. I will grant the will of 
 man now to be as much a slave as any one will have 
 it, and be only free to sin ; that is, instead of a 
 liberty, to have only a licentiousness ; yet certainly 
 this is not nature, but chance. We were not born 
 crooked ; we learnt these windings and turnings of 
 the serpent : and therefore it cannot but be a bias-
 
 42 A SERMON 
 
 phemous piece of ingratitude to ascribe them to 
 God, and to make the plague of our nature the con- 
 dition of our creation. 
 
 The will was then ductile, and pliant to all the 
 motions of right reason ; it met the dictates of a cla- 
 rified understanding half way. And the active in- 
 formations of the intellect, filling the passive recep- 
 tion of the will, like form closing with matter, grew 
 actuate into a third, and distinct perfection of prac- 
 tice : the understanding and will never disagreed ; 
 for the proposals of the one never thwarted the in- 
 clinations of the other. Yet neither did the will 
 servilely attend upon the understanding, but as a fa- 
 vourite does upon his prince, where the service is 
 privilege and preferment ; or as Solomon's servants 
 waited upon him, it admired its wisdom, and heard 
 its prudent dictates and counsels, both the direction 
 and the reward of its obedience. It is indeed the 
 nature of this faculty to follow a superior guide, to 
 be drawn by the intellect ; but then it was drawn as 
 a triumphant chariot, which at the same time both 
 follows and triumphs ; while it obeyed this, it com- 
 manded the other faculties. It was subordinate, 
 not enslaved to the understanding : not as a servant 
 to a master, but as a queen to her king, who both 
 acknowledges a subjection, and yet retains a majesty. 
 
 Pass we now downward from man's intellect and 
 will, 
 
 III. To the passions, which have their residence 
 and situation chiefly in the sensitive appetite. For 
 we must know, that inasmuch as man is a com- 
 pound, and mixture of flesh as well as spirit, the 
 soul, during its abode in the body, does all things 
 by the mediation of these passions and inferior af-
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 43 
 
 fections. And here the opinion of the Stoics was 
 famous and singular, who looked upon all these as 
 sinful defects and irregularities, as so many devia- 
 tions from right reason, making passion to be only 
 another word for perturbation. Sorrow, in their 
 esteem, was a sin, scarce to be expiated by another ; 
 to pity, was a fault ; to rejoice, an extravagance ; 
 and the Apostle's advice, to be angry and sin not, 
 was a contradiction in their philosophy. But in 
 this, they were constantly outvoted by other sects 
 of philosophers, neither for fame nor number less 
 than themselves : so that all arguments brought 
 against them from divinity would come in by way of 
 overplus to their confutation. To us let this be 
 sufficient, that our Saviour Christ, who took upon 
 him all our natural infirmities, but none of our sin- 
 ful, has been seen to weep, to be sorrowful, to pity, 
 and to be angry : which shews that there might be 
 gall in ' a dove, passion without sin, fire without 
 smoke, and motion without disturbance. For it is 
 not bare agitation, but the sediment at the bottom, 
 that troubles and defiles the water: and when we 
 see it windy and dusty, the wind does not (as we 
 use to say) make, but only raise a dust. 
 
 Now, though the schools reduce all the passions 
 to these two heads, the concupiscible, and the 
 irascible appetite ; yet I shall not tie myself to an 
 exact prosecution of them under this division ; but 
 at this time, leaving both their terms and their 
 method to themselves, consider only the principal 
 and most noted passions, from whence we may take 
 an estimate of the rest. 
 
 And first, for the grand leading affection of all, 
 which is love. This is the great instrument and en-
 
 44 A SERMON 
 
 gine of nature, the bond and cement of society, the 
 spring and spirit of the universe. Love is such an 
 affection, as cannot so properly be said to be in the 
 soul, as the soul to be in that. It is the whole man 
 wrapt up into one desire ; all the powers, vigour, and 
 faculties of the soul abridged into one inclination. 
 And it is of that active, restless nature, that it must 
 of necessity exert itself; and like the fire, to which 
 it is so often compared, it is not a free agent, to 
 choose whether it will heat or no, but it streams 
 forth by natural results and unavoidable emana- 
 tions. So that it will fasten upon any inferior, unsuit- 
 able object, rather than none at all. The soul may 
 sooner leave off to subsist, than to love ; and, like 
 the vine, it withers and dies, if it has nothing to em- 
 brace. Now this affection in the state of innocence 
 was happily pitched upon its right object ; it flamed 
 up in direct fervours of devotion to God, and in col- 
 lateral emissions of charity to its neighbour. It was 
 not then only another and more cleanly name for lust. 
 It had none of those impure heats, that both represent 
 and deserve hell. It was a vestal, and a virgin-fire, 
 and differed as much from that which usually passes 
 by this name nowadays, as the vital heat from the 
 burning of a fever. 
 
 Then, for the contrary passion of hatred. This, 
 we know, is the passion of defiance, and there is a 
 kind of aversation and hostility included in its very 
 essence and being. But then, (if there could have 
 been hatred in the world, when there was scarce 
 any thing odious,) it would have acted within the 
 compass of its proper object. Like aloes, bitter in- 
 deed, but wholesome. There would have been no 
 rancour, no hatred of our brother: an innocent nature
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 45 
 
 could hate nothing that was innocent. In a word, so 
 great is the commutation, that the soul then hated 
 only that which now only it loves, that is, sin. 
 
 And if we may bring anger under this head, as 
 being, according to some, a transient hatred, or at 
 least very like it : this also, as unruly as now it is, 
 yet then it vented itself by the measures of reason. 
 There was no such thing as the transports of malice, 
 or the violences of revenge: no rendering evil for evil, 
 when evil was truly a nonentity, and no where to 
 be found. Anger then was like the sword of justice, 
 keen, but innocent and righteous : it did not act like 
 fury, and then call itself zeal. It always espoused 
 God's honour, and never kindled upon any thing but 
 in order to a sacrifice. It sparkled like the coal 
 upon the altar, with the fervours of piety, the heats 
 of devotion, the sallies and vibrations of an harmless 
 activity. In the next place, for the lightsome pas- 
 sion of 'joy. It was not that, which now often 
 usurps this name ; that trivial, vanishing, superficial 
 thing, that only gilds the apprehension, and plays 
 upon the surface of the soul. It was not the mere 
 crackling of thorns, a sudden blaze of the spirits, 
 the exultation of a tickled fancy or a pleased appe- 
 tite. Joy was then a masculine and a severe thing ; 
 the recreation of the judgment, the jubilee of reason. 
 It was the result of a real good, suitably applied. It 
 commenced upon the solidities of truth and the 
 substance of fruition. It did not run out in voice, 
 or undecent eruptions, but filled the soul, as God 
 does the universe, silently and without noise. It 
 was refreshing, but composed ; like the pleasantness 
 of youth tempered with the gravity of age ; or the
 
 46 A SERMON 
 
 mirth of a festival managed with the silence of con- 
 templation. 
 
 And, on the other side, for sorrow. Had any 
 loss or disaster made but room for grref, it would 
 have moved according to the severe allowances of 
 prudence, and the proportions of the provocation. 
 It would not have sallied out into complaint or 
 loudness, nor spread itself upon the face, and writ 
 sad stories upon the forehead. No wringing of the 
 hands, knocking the breast, or wishing one's self 
 unborn ; all which are but the ceremonies of sorrow, 
 the pomp and ostentation of an effeminate grief: 
 which speak, not so much the greatness of the misery, 
 as the smaUness of the mind. Tears may spoil the 
 eyes, but not wash away the affliction. Sighs may 
 exhaust the man, but not eject the burden. Sorrow 
 then would have been as silent as thoughts, as severe 
 as philosophy. It would have rested in inward 
 senses, tacit dislikes ; and the whole scene of it been 
 transacted in sad and silent reflections. 
 
 Then again for hope. Though indeed the fulness 
 and affluence of man's enjoyments in the state of in- 
 nocence, might seem to leave no place for hope, in 
 respect of any farther addition, but only of the pro- 
 rogation, and future continuance of what already he 
 possessed : yet doubtless, God, who made no faculty, 
 but also provided it with a proper object, upon which 
 it might exercise and lay out itself, even in its 
 greatest innocence, did then exercise man's hopes 
 with the expectations of a better paradise, or a more 
 intimate admission to himself. For it is not ima- 
 ginable, that Adam could fix upon such poor, thin 
 enjoyments, as riches, pleasure, and the gayeties of
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 47 
 
 an animal life. Hope indeed was always the anchor 
 of the soul, yet certainly it was not to catch or fasten 
 upon such mud. And if, as the Apostle says, no 
 man hopes for that which he sees, much less could 
 Adam then hope for such things as he saw through. 
 
 And lastly, for the affection of fear. It was then 
 the instrument of caution, not of anxiety; a guard, 
 and not a torment to the breast that had it. It is 
 now indeed an unhappiness, the disease of the soul : 
 it flies from a shadow, and makes more dangers 
 than it avoids : it weakens the judgment, and be- 
 trays the succours of reason : so hard is it to tremble 
 and not to err, and to hit the mark with a shaking 
 hand. Then it fixed upon him who is only to be 
 feared, God : and yet with a filial fear, which at 
 the same time both fears and loves. It was awe with- 
 out amazement, dread without distraction. There 
 was then a beauty even in this very paleness. It 
 was the 1 colour of devotion, giving a lustre to reve- 
 rence, and a gloss to humility. 
 
 Thus did the passions then act without any of 
 their present jars, combats, or repugnances ; all 
 moving with the beauty of uniformity, and the still- 
 ness of composure. Like a well-governed army, 
 not for fighting, but for rank and order. I confess 
 the scripture does not expressly attribute these seve- 
 ral endowments to Adam in his first estate. But 
 all that I have said, and much more, may be drawn 
 out of that short aphorism, God made man upright, 
 Eccl. vii. 29. And since the opposite weaknesses now 
 infest the nature of man fallen, if we will be true 
 to the rule of contraries, we must conclude, that 
 those perfections were the lot of man innocent. 
 
 Now from this so exact and regular composure of
 
 48 A SERMON 
 
 the faculties, all moving in their due place, each 
 striking in its proper time, there arose, by natural 
 consequence, the crowning perfection of all, a good 
 conscience. For, as in the body, when the principal 
 parts, as the heart and liver, do their offices, and all 
 the inferior, smaller vessels act orderly and duly, 
 there arises a sweet enjoyment upon the whole, 
 which we call health : so in the soul, when the su- 
 preme faculties of the will and understanding move 
 regularly, the inferior passions and affections follow- 
 ing, there arises a serenity and complacency upon 
 the whole soul, infinitely beyond the greatest bodily 
 pleasures, the highest quintessence and elixir of 
 worldly delights. There is in this case a kind of 
 fragrancy, and spiritual perfume upon the con- 
 science ; much like what Isaac spoke of his son's 
 garments; that the scent of them was like the 
 smell of afield which the Lord had blessed. Such 
 a freshness and flavour is there upon the soul, when 
 daily watered with the actions of a virtuous life. 
 Whatsoever is pure is also pleasant. 
 
 Having thus surveyed the image of God in the 
 soul of man, we are not to omit now those charac- 
 ters of majesty that God imprinted upon the body. 
 He drew some traces of his image upon this also ; 
 as much as a spiritual substance could be pictured 
 upon a corporeal. As for the sect of the Anthro- 
 pomorphites, who from hence ascribe to God the 
 figure of a man, eyes, hands, feet, and the like, they 
 are too ridiculous to deserve a confutation. They 
 would seem to draw this impiety from the letter of 
 the scripture sometimes speaking of God in this 
 manner. Absurdly; as if the mercy of scripture 
 expressions ought to warrant the blasphemy of our
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 49 
 
 opinions. And not rather shew us, that God con- 
 descends to us, only to draw us to himself; and 
 clothes himself in our likeness, only to win us to his 
 own. The practice of the papists is much of the 
 same nature, in their absurd and impious picturing 
 of God Almighty : but the wonder in them is the 
 less, since the image of a deity may be a proper ob- 
 ject for that, which is but the image of a religion. 
 But to the purpose: Adam was then no less glorious 
 in his externals ; he had a beautiful body, as well 
 as an immortal soul. The whole compound was 
 like a well built temple, stately without, and sacred 
 within. The elements were at perfect union and 
 agreement in his body ; and their contrary qualities 
 served not for the dissolution of the compound, but 
 the variety of the composure. Galen, who had no 
 more divinity than what his physic taught him, 
 barely upon the consideration of this so exact frame 
 of the Jbody, challenges any one upon an hundred 
 years study, to find how any the least fibre, or most 
 minute particle, might be more commodiously placed, 
 either for the advantage of use or comeliness ; his 
 stature erect, and tending upwards to his centre ; 
 his countenance majestic and comely, with the lustre 
 of a native beauty, that scorned the poor assistance 
 of art, or the attempts of imitation ; his body of so 
 much quickness and agility, that it did not only 
 contain, but also represent the soul : for we might 
 well suppose, that where God did deposit so rich a 
 jewel, he would suitably adorn the case. It was a 
 fit workhouse for sprightly vivid faculties to exercise 
 and exert themselves in. A fit tabernacle for 'an 
 immortal soul, not only to dwell in, but to contem- 
 plate upon : where it might see the world without 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 A SERMON 
 
 travel ; it being a lesser scheme of the creation, na- 
 ture contracted, a little cosmography, or map of the 
 universe. Neither was the body then subject to 
 distempers, to die by piecemeal, and languish under 
 coughs, catarrhs, or consumptions. Adam knew no 
 disease, so long as temperance from the forbidden 
 fruit secured him. Nature was his physician ; and 
 innocence and abstinence would have kept him 
 healthful to immortality. 
 
 Now the use of this point might be various, but 
 at present it shall be only this ; to remind us of the 
 irreparable loss that we sustained in our first pa- 
 rents, to shew us of how fair a portion Adam disin- 
 herited his whole posterity by one single prevarica- 
 tion. Take the picture of a man in the greenness 
 and vivacity of his youth, and in the latter date and 
 declensions of his drooping years, and you will 
 scarce know it to belong to the same person : there 
 would be more art to discern, than at first to draw 
 it. The same and greater is the difference between 
 man innocent and fallen. He is, as it were, a new 
 kind or species ; the plague of sin has even altered 
 his nature, and eaten into his very essentials. The 
 image of God is wiped out, the creatures have shook 
 off his yoke, renounced his sovereignty, and revolted 
 from his dominion. Distempers and diseases have 
 shattered the excellent frame of his body; and, by a 
 new dispensation, immortality is swallowed up of 
 mortality. The same disaster and decay also has 
 invaded his spirituals : the passions rebel, every 
 faculty would usurp and rule; and there are so 
 many governors, that there can be no government. 
 The light within us is become darkness; and the 
 understanding, that should be eyes to the blind fa-
 
 ON GENESIS I. 27. 51 
 
 culty of the will, is blind itself, and so brings all the 
 inconveniences that attend a blind follower under 
 the conduct of a blind guide. He that would have 
 a clear, ocular demonstration of this, let him reflect 
 upon that numerous litter of strange, senseless, ab- 
 surd opinions, that crawl about the world, to the 
 disgrace of reason, and the unanswerable reproach 
 of a broken intellect. 
 
 The two great perfections, that both adorn and 
 exercise man's understanding, are philosophy and 
 religion : for the first of these; take it even amongst 
 the professors of it, where it most flourished, and 
 we shall find the very first notions of common sense 
 debauched by them. For there have been such as 
 have asserted, that there is no such thing in the 
 world as motion ; that contradictions may be true. 
 There has not been wanting one, that has denied 
 snow to be white. Such a stupidity or wantonness 
 had seized upon the most raised wits, that it might 
 be doubted, whether the philosophers or the owls of 
 Athens were the quicker sighted. But then for re- 
 ligion ; what prodigious, monstrous, misshapen births 
 has the reason of fallen man produced ! It is now 
 almost six thousand years, that far the greatest part 
 of the world has had no other religion but idolatry : 
 and idolatry certainly is the first-born of folly, the 
 great and leading paradox ; nay, the very abridg- 
 ment and sum total of all absurdities. For is it not 
 strange, that a rational man should worship an ox, 
 nay, the image of an ox? that he should fawn 
 upon his dog? bow himself before a cat? adore 
 leeks and garlic, and shed penitential tears at the 
 smell of a deified onion ? Yet so did the Egyptians, 
 once the famed masters of all arts and learning. 
 
 E 2
 
 52 A SERMON ON GENESIS I. 27. 
 
 And to go a little farther ; we have yet a stranger 
 instance in Isa. xliv. 14. A man hews him down a 
 tree in the wood, and part of it he burns, in ver. 
 16. and in ver. 17. with the residue thereof he mak- 
 eth a god. With one part he furnishes his chim- 
 ney, with the other his chapel. A strange thing, 
 that the fire must consume this part, and then burn 
 incense to that. As if there was more divinity 
 in one end of the stick than in the other ; or as if 
 it could be graved and painted omnipotent, or the 
 nails and the hammer could give it an apotheosis. 
 Briefly, so great is the change, so deplorable the de- 
 gradation of our nature, that, whereas before we 
 bore the image of God, we now retain only the 
 image of men. 
 
 In the last place, we learn from hence the excel- 
 lency of Christian religion, in that it is the great 
 and only means that God has sanctified and de- 
 signed to repair the breaches of humanity, to set 
 fallen man upon his legs again, to clarify his reason, 
 to rectify his will, and to compose and regulate his 
 affections. The whole business of our redemption 
 is, in short, only to rub over the defaced copy of the 
 creation, to reprint God's image upon the soul, and 
 (as it were) to set forth nature in a second and 
 a fairer edition. 
 
 The recovery of which lost image, as it is God's 
 pleasure to command, and our duty to endeavour, 
 so it is in his power only to effect. 
 
 To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most 
 due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, 
 both now and for evermore. Amen.
 
 Interest deposed, and Truth restored. 
 
 TWO SERMONS: 
 
 The first at St. Mary's in Oxford, on the 24 th of July 1659, being the 
 time of the Assizes: as also of the fears and groans of the nation, in the 
 threatened and expected ruin of the laws, ministry, and universities. 
 
 The other preached before the honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFUL 
 
 EDWARD ATKINS, 
 
 SERGEANT AT LAW, AND FORMERLY ONE OF THE JUSTICES 
 OF THE COMMON-PLEAS. 
 
 Honoured Sir, 
 
 -L HOUGH at first it was free, and in my choice, whe- 
 ther I should publish these discourses, yet the publication 
 being once resolved, the dedication was not so indifferent ; 
 the nature of the subject, no less than the obligations of 
 the author, styling them in a peculiar manner yours: 
 for since their drift is to carry the most endangered and 
 endangering truth, above the safest, when sinful, interest ; 
 as a practice upon grounds of reason the most generous, 
 and of Christianity the most religious; to whom rather 
 should this assertion repair as to a patron, than to him whom 
 it has for an instance ? Who, in a case of eminent competi- 
 tion, chose duty before interest ; and when the judge grew 
 inconsistent with the justice, preferred rather to be con- 
 
 E3
 
 54 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 slant to sure principles, than to an unconstant government : 
 and to retreat to an innocent and honourable privacy, than 
 to sit and act iniquity by a law ; and make your age and 
 conscience (the one venerable, the other sacred) drudges 
 to the tyranny of fanatick, perjured usurpers. The next 
 attempt of this discourse is a defence of the ministry, and 
 that, at such a time, when none owned them upon the 
 bench, (for then you had quitted it;) but when, on the 
 contrary, we lived to hear one in the very face of the uni- 
 versity, (as it were in defiance of us and our profession,) 
 openly in his charge to defend the Quakers and fanaticks, 
 persons not fit to be named in such courts, but in an indict- 
 ment. But, sir, in the instructions I here presumed to 
 give to others, concerning what they should do, you may 
 take a narrative of what you have done: what respected 
 their actions as a rule or admonition, applied to yours is 
 only a rehearsal, whose zeal in asserting the ministerial 
 cause is so generally known, so gratefully acknowledged, 
 that I dare affirm, that in what I deliver, you read the 
 words indeed of one, but the thanks of all. Which affec- 
 tionate concernment of yours for them, seems to argue a 
 spiritual sense, and experimental taste of their works, and 
 that you have reaped as much from their labours, as others 
 have done from their lands : for to me it seemed always 
 strange, and next to impossible, that a man, converted by 
 the word preached, should ever hate and persecute a 
 preacher. And since you have several times in discourse 
 declared yourself for that government in the church, which 
 is founded upon scripture, reason, apostolical practice, and 
 antiquity, and (we are sure) the only one that can consist 
 with the present government of state, I thought the latter 
 discourse also might fitly address itself to you ; in the 
 which you may read your judgment, as in the other your 
 practice. And now, since it has pleased Providence at 
 length to turn our captivity, and answer persecuted patience 
 with the unexpected returns of settlement ; to remove our 
 rulers, and restore ^ur ruler ; and not only to make our 
 exactors righteousness, but, what is better, to give us 
 righteousness instead of exaction, and hopes of religion to a
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 55 
 
 church worried with reformation ; I believe, upon a due 
 and impartial reflection on what is past, you now find no 
 cause to repent, that you never dipt your hands in the 
 bloody high courts of justice, properly so called only by 
 antiphrasis; nor ever prostituted the scarlet robe to those 
 employments, in which you must have worn the colour of 
 your sin in the badge of your office : but, notwithstanding 
 all the enticements of a prosperous villany, abhorred the 
 purchase, when the price was blood. So that now, being 
 privileged by an happy unconcernment in those legal mur- 
 ders, you may take a sweeter relish of your own innocence, 
 by beholding the misery of others guilt, who being guilty 
 before God, and infamous before men, obnoxious to both, 
 begin to find the first-fruits of their sin in the universal 
 scorn of all, their apparent danger, and unlikely remedy: 
 which beginnings being at length consummated by the 
 hand of justice, the cry of blood and sacrilege will cease, 
 men's doubts will be satisfied, and Providence absolved. 
 
 And thus, sir, having presumed to honour my first essays 
 in divinity, by prefixing to them a name, to which divines 
 are so much obliged ; I should here in the close of this ad- 
 dress contribute a wish at least to your happiness: but 
 since we desire it not yet in another world, and your enjoy- 
 ments in this (according to the standard of a Christian de- 
 sire) are so complete, that they require no addition ; I 
 shall turn my wishes into gratulations, and congratulating 
 their fulness, only wish their continuance: praying that 
 you may still possess what you possess, and do what you 
 do ; that is, reflect upon a clear, unblotted, acquitting con- 
 science, and feed upon the ineffable comforts of the memo- 
 rial of a conquered temptation, without the danger of re- 
 turning to the trial. And this, sir, I account the greatest 
 felicity that you can enjoy, and therefore the greatest that 
 he can desire, who is 
 
 Your's in all observance, 
 
 ch. ch. 25. of ROBERT SOUTH. 
 
 May 1660.
 
 MATTHEW x. 33. 
 
 But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also 
 deny before my Father which is in heaven. 
 
 the great comprehensive gospel duty is the de- 
 nial of self, so the grand gospel sin that confronts it 
 is the denial of Christ. These two are both the 
 commanding and the dividing principles of all our 
 actions : for whosoever acts in opposition to one, 
 does it always in behalf of the other. None ever op- 
 posed Christ, but it was to gratify self: none ever 
 renounced the interest of self, but from a prevailing 
 love to the interest of Christ. The subject I have 
 here pitched upon may seem improper in these 
 times, and in this place, where the number of pro- 
 fessors and of men is the same; where the cause 
 and interest of Christ has been so cried up ; and 
 Christ's personal reign and kingdom so called for 
 and expected. But since it has been still preached 
 up, but acted down ; and dealt with, as the eagle in 
 the fable did with the oyster, carrying it up on high, 
 that by letting it fall he might dash it in pieces : I 
 say, since Christ must reign, but his truths be made 
 to serve ; I suppose it is but reason to distinguish 
 between profession and pretence, and to conclude, 
 that men's present crying, Hail king, and bending 
 the knee to Christ, are only in order to his future 
 crucifixion. 
 
 For the discovery of the sense of the words, I 
 shall inquire into their occasion. From the very be- 
 ginning of the chapter we have Christ consulting 
 the propagation of the gospel; and in order to it
 
 A SERMON ON MATTHEW X. 33. 57 
 
 (being the only way that he knew to effect it) send- 
 ing forth a ministry ; and giving them a commis- 
 sion, together with instructions for the execution of 
 it. He would have them fully acquainted with the 
 nature and extent of their office ; and so he joins 
 commission with instruction ; by one he conveys 
 power, by the other knowledge. Supposing (I con- 
 ceive) that upon such an undertaking, the more 
 learned his ministers were, they would prove never 
 the less faithful 1 . And thus having fitted them, 
 and stript them of all manner of defence, ver. 9. he 
 sends them forth amongst wolves : a hard expedi- 
 tion, you will say, to go amongst wolves ; but yet 
 much harder to convert them into sheep ; and no 
 less hard even to discern some of them, possibly be- 
 ing under sheep's clothing; and so by the advan- 
 tage of that dress, sooner felt than discovered : pro- 
 bably also such, as had both the properties of wolves, 
 that^is, they could whine and howl, as well as bite 
 and devour. But that they might not go altogether 
 naked among their enemies, the only armour that 
 Christ allows them is prudence and innocence ; Be 
 ye wise as serpents, but harmless as doves, ver. 16. 
 Weapons not at all offensive, yet most suitable to 
 their warfare, whose greatest encounters were to be 
 exhortations, and whose only conquest, escape. In- 
 nocence is the best caution, and we may unite the 
 expression, to be 'wise as a serpent is to be harm- 
 less as a dove. Innocence is like polished armour ; 
 it adorns, and it defends. In sum, he tells them, 
 
 a In the parliament 1653, it try, the latter word was re- 
 being put to the vote, whether jected, and the vote passed for 
 they should support and encou- a godly and faithful ministry, 
 rage a godly and learned minis-
 
 58 A SERMON 
 
 that the opposition they should meet with was the 
 greatest imaginable, from ver. 16. to 26. But in the 
 ensuing verses he promises them an equal propor- 
 tion of assistance ; and, as if it were not an argu- 
 ment of force enough to outweigh the foremen- 
 tioned discouragements, he casts into the balance 
 the promise of a reward to such as should execute, 
 and of punishment to such as should neglect their 
 commission : the reward in the former verse, Who- 
 soever shall confess me before men., &c. the punish- 
 ment in this, But whosoever shall deny, &c. As if 
 by way of pre-occupation he should have said, Well, 
 here you see your commission ; this is your duty, 
 these are your discouragements : never seek for 
 shifts and evasions from worldly afflictions ; this is 
 your reward, if you perform it ; this is your doom, 
 if you decline it. 
 
 As for the explication of the words, they are clear 
 and easy ; and their originals in the Greek are of 
 single signification, without any ambiguity ; and 
 therefore I shall not trouble you, by proposing how 
 they run in this or that edition ; or straining for an 
 interpretation where there is no difficulty, or distinc- 
 tion where there is no difference. The only exposi- 
 tion that I shall give of them, will be to compare 
 them to other parallel scriptures, and peculiarly to 
 that in Mark viii. 38. Whosoever therefore shall 
 be ashamed of me and of my words in this adul- 
 terous and sinful generation ; of him also shall the 
 Son of man be ashamed, when he cometh in the 
 glory of his Father, with the holy angels. These 
 words are a comment upon my text. 
 
 1. AVhat is here in the text called a denying of 
 Christ, is there termed a being ashamed of him.
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 5i) 
 
 that is, in those words the cause is expressed, and 
 here the effect ; for therefore we deny a thing, be- 
 cause we are ashamed of it. First, Peter is ashamed 
 of Christ, then he denies him. 
 
 2. What is here termed a denying of Christ, is 
 there called a being ashamed of Christ and his 
 words : Christ's truths are his second self. And he 
 that offers a contempt to a king's letters or edicts, 
 virtually affronts the king; it strikes his words, but 
 it rebounds upon his person. 
 
 3. What is here said, before men, is there phrased, 
 in this adulterous and sinful generation. These 
 words import the hinderance of the duty enjoined ; 
 which therefore is here purposely enforced with a 
 non obstante to all opposition. The term adulterous, 
 I conceive, may chiefly relate to the Jews, who be- 
 ing nationally espoused to God by covenant, every 
 sin of theirs was in a peculiar manner spiritual 
 adultery. 
 
 4. What is here said, / will deny him before my 
 Father, is there expressed, / will be ashamed of 
 him before my Father and his holy angels ; that is, 
 when he shall come to judgment, when revenging 
 justice shall come in pomp, attended with the glori- 
 ous retinue of all the host of heaven. In short, the 
 sentence pronounced declares the judgment, the so- 
 lemnity of it the terror. 
 
 From the words we may deduce these observa- 
 tions : 
 
 I. We shall find strong motives and temptations 
 from men, to draw us to a denial of Christ. 
 
 II. No terrors or solicitations from men, though 
 never so great, can warrant or excuse such a de- 
 nial.
 
 60 A SERMON 
 
 III. To deny Christ's words, is to deny Christ. 
 But since these observations are rather implied 
 than expressed in the words, I shall wave them, and 
 instead of deducing a doctrine distinct from the 
 words, prosecute the words themselves under this 
 doctrinal paraphrase : 
 
 Whosoever shall deny, disown, or be ashamed of 
 either the person or truths of Jesus Christ, for any 
 fear or favour of man, shall with shame be dis- 
 owned and eternally rejected by him at the dread- 
 ful judgment of the great day. 
 
 The discussion of this shall He in these things : 
 
 I. To shew, how many ways Christ and his truths 
 may be denied ; and what is the denial here chiefly 
 intended. 
 
 II. To shew, what are the causes that induce 
 men to a denial of Christ and his truths. 
 
 III. To shew, how far a man may consult his 
 safety in time of persecution, without denying 
 Christ. 
 
 IV. To shew, what is imported in Christ's deny- 
 ing us before his Father in heaven. 
 
 V. To apply all to the present occasion. 
 
 But before I enter upon these, I must briefly pre- 
 mise this, that though the text and the doctrine run 
 peremptory and absolute, Whosoever denies Christ, 
 shall assuredly be denied by him ; yet still there is 
 a tacit condition in the words supposed, unless re- 
 pentance intervene. For this and many other scrip- 
 tures, though as to their formal terms they are abso- 
 lute, yet as to their sense they are conditional. God 
 in mercy has so framed and tempered his word, that 
 we have, for the most part, a reserve of mercy 
 wrapped up in a curse. And the very first judg-
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 61 
 
 ment that was pronounced upon fallen man, was 
 with the allay of a promise. Wheresoever we find a 
 curse to the guilty expressed, in the same words 
 mercy to the penitent is still understood. This pre- 
 mised, I come now to discuss the first thing, viz. 
 how many ways Christ and his truths may be de- 
 nied, &cc. Here first in general I assert, that we 
 may deny him in all those acts that are capable of 
 being morally good or evil ; those are the proper 
 scene in which we act our confessions or denials of 
 him. Accordingly therefore all ways of denying 
 Christ I shall comprise under these three. 
 
 1. We may deny him and his truths by an erro- 
 neous, heretical judgment. I know it is doubted 
 whether a bare error in judgment can condemn : 
 but since truths absolutely necessary to salvation 
 are so clearly revealed, that we cannot err in them, 
 unless we be notoriously wanting to ourselves ; 
 herein- the fault of the judgment is resolved into a 
 precedent default in the will ; and so the case is put 
 out of doubt. But here it may be replied, Are not 
 truths of absolute and fundamental necessity very 
 disputable ; as the deity of Christ, the trinity of per- 
 sons? If they are not in themselves disputable, 
 why are they so much disputed ? Indeed, I believe, 
 if we trace these disputes to their original cause, we 
 shall find, that they never sprung from a reluctancy 
 in reason to embrace them. For this reason itself 
 dictates, as most rational, to assent to any thing, 
 though seemingly contrary to reason, if it is revealed 
 by God, and we are certain of the revelation. These 
 two supposed, these disputes must needs arise only 
 from curiosity and singularity ; and these are faults 
 of a diseased will. But some will farther demand
 
 62 A SERMON 
 
 in behalf of these men, whether such as assent to 
 every word in scripture, (for so will those that deny 
 the natural deity of Christ and the Spirit,) can be 
 yet said in doctrinals to deny Christ ? To this I 
 answer, Since words abstracted from their proper 
 sense and signification lose the nature of words, and 
 are only equivocally so called ; inasmuch as the per- 
 sons we speak of, take them thus, and derive the 
 letter from Christ, but the signification from them- 
 selves, they cannot be said properly to assent so 
 much as to the words of the scripture. And so 
 their case also is clear. But yet more fully to state 
 the matter, how far a denial of Christ in belief and 
 judgment is damnable: we will propose the question, 
 whether those who hold the fundamentals of faith 
 may deny Christ damnably, in respect of those su- 
 perstructures and consequences that arise from 
 them ? I answer in brief, By fundamental truths are 
 understood, (1.) either such, without the belief of 
 which we cannot be saved : or, (2.) such, the belief 
 of which is sufficient to save : if the question be 
 proposed of fundamentals in this latter sense, it con- 
 tains its own answer; for where a man believes 
 those truths, the belief of which is sufficient to save, 
 there the disbelief or denial of their consequences 
 cannot damn. But what and how many these fun- 
 damentals are, it will then be agreed upon, when all 
 sects, opinions, and persuasions do unite and con- 
 sent. 2dly, If we speak of fundamentals in the for- 
 mer sense, as they are only truths, without which 
 we cannot be saved : it is manifest that we may be- 
 lieve them, and yet be damned for denying their 
 consequences: for that which is only a condition, 
 without which we cannot be saved, is not therefore
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 63 
 
 a cause sufficient to save : much more is required to 
 the latter, than to the former. I conclude therefore, 
 that to deny Christ in our judgment, will condemn, 
 and this concerns the learned : Christ demands the 
 homage of your understanding : he will have your 
 reason bend to him ; you must put your heads under 
 his feet. And we know, that heretofore, he who 
 had the leprosy in this part, was to be pronounced 
 utterly unclean. A poisoned reason, an infected 
 judgment, is Christ's greatest enemy. And an error 
 in the judgment is like an imposthume in the head, 
 which is always noisome, and frequently mortal. 
 
 2. We may deny Christ verbally, and by oral ex- 
 pressions. Now our words are the interpreters of 
 our hearts, the transcripts of the judgment, with 
 some farther addition of good or evil. He that in- 
 terprets, usually enlarges. What our judgment 
 whispers in secret, these proclaim upon the house- 
 top. To deny Christ in the former, imports en- 
 mity; but in these, open defiance. Christ's passion 
 is renewed in both : he that misjudges of him, con- 
 demns him ; but he that blasphemes him, spits in 
 his face. Thus the Jews and the Pharisees denied 
 Christ. We know that this man is a sinner, John 
 ix. 24. and a deceiver, Matt, xxvii. 63. And he 
 casts out devils by the prince of devils, Matt. xii. 24. 
 And thus Christ is daily denied, in many blasphe- 
 mies printed and divulged, and many horrid opinions 
 vented against the truth. The schools dispute whe- 
 ther in morals the external action superadds any 
 thing of good or evil to the internal elicit act of the 
 will : but certainly the enmity of our judgments is 
 wrought up to an high pitch, before it rages in an 
 open denial. And it is a sign that it is grown too
 
 64 A SERMON 
 
 big for the heart, when it seeks for vent in our 
 words. Blasphemy uttered, is error heightened with 
 impudence : it is sin scorning a concealment, not 
 only committed, but defended. He that denies 
 Christ in his judgment, sins ; but he that speaks his 
 denial, vouches and owns his sin : and so, by pub- 
 lishing it, does what in him lies to make it univer- 
 sal, and by writing it, to establish it eternal. There 
 is another way of denying Christ with our mouths, 
 which is negative ; that is, when we do not acknow- 
 ledge and confess him : but of this I shall have oc- 
 casion to treat under the discussion of the third 
 general head. 
 
 3. We may deny Christ in our actions and prac- 
 tice ; and these speak much louder than our tongues. 
 To have an orthodox belief, and a true profession, 
 concurring with a bad life, is only to deny Christ 
 with a greater solemnity. Belief and profession 
 will speak thee a Christian but very faintly, when 
 thy conversation proclaims thee an infidel. Many, 
 while they have preached Christ in their sermons, 
 have read a lecture of atheism in their practice. We 
 have many here who speak of godliness, mortifica- 
 tion, and self-denial ; but if these are so, what means 
 the bleating of the sheep, and the lowing of the 
 oxen, the noise of their ordinary sins, and the cry of 
 their great ones ? If godly, why do they waUow and 
 steep in all the carnalities of the world, under pre- 
 tence of Christian liberty ? Why do they make re- 
 ligion ridiculous by pretending to prophecy; and 
 when their prophecies prove delusions, why do they 
 b blaspheme? If such are self-deniers, what means 
 
 b A noted independent di- was sick, of which sickness he 
 vine, when Oliver Cromwell died, declared that God had
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 65 
 
 the griping, the prejudice, the covetousness, and the 
 pluralities preached against, and retained, and the 
 arbitrary government of many? When such men 
 preach of self-denial and humility, I cannot but 
 think of Seneca, who praised poverty, and that very 
 safely, in the midst of his great riches and gardens ; 
 and even exhorted the world to throw away their 
 gold, perhaps (as one well conjectures) that he might 
 gather it up : so these desire men to be humble, 
 that they may domineer without opposition. But it 
 is an easy matter to commend patience, when there 
 is no danger of any trial, to extol humility in the 
 midst of honours, to begin a fast after dinner c . But, 
 O how Christ will deal with such persons, when he 
 shall draw forth all their actions bare, and stript 
 from this deceiving veil of their heavenly speeches ! 
 He will then say, It was not your sad countenance, 
 nor your hypocritical groaning, by which you did 
 either confess or honour me : but your worldliness, 
 your luxury, your sinister partial dealing : these 
 have denied me, these have wounded me, these have 
 gone to my heart ; these have caused the weak to 
 stumble, and the profane to blaspheme ; these have 
 offended the one, and hardened the other. You 
 have indeed spoke me fair, you have saluted me 
 with your lips, but even then you betrayed me. 
 Depart from me therefore, you professors of holiness, 
 but you workers of iniquity. 
 
 repealed to him that he should with God the defeat of his 
 
 recover, and live thirty years prophecy, in these words : Lord, 
 
 longer, for that God had raised thou hast lied unto us ; yea, thou 
 
 him up for a work which could hast lied unto us. 
 not be done in less time. But c Very credibly reported to 
 
 Oliver's death being published have been done in an indepen- 
 
 two days after, the said divine dent congregation at Oxon. 
 publicly in prayer expostulated 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A SERMON 
 
 And thus having shewn the three ways by which 
 Christ may be denied, it may now be demanded, 
 which is the denial here intended in the words. 
 
 Answer. (I.) I conceive, if the words are taken as 
 they were particularly and personally directed to the 
 apostles, upon the occasion of their mission to preach 
 the gospel, so the denial of him was the not acknow- 
 ledgment of the deity or godhead of Christ ; and the 
 reason to prove that this was then principally in- 
 tended is this ; because this was the truth in those 
 days chiefly opposed, and most disbelieved; as ap- 
 pears, because Christ and the apostles did most ear- 
 nestly inculcate the belief of this, and accepted men 
 upon the bare acknowledgment of this, and baptism 
 was administered to such as did but profess this, 
 Acts viii. 37, 38. And indeed, as this one aphorism, 
 Jesus Christ is the son of God, is virtually and 
 eminently the whole gospel ; so, to confess or deny 
 it, is virtually to embrace or reject the whole round 
 and series of gospel truths. For he that acknow- 
 ledges Christ to be the son of God, by the same does 
 consequentially acknowledge, that he is to be be- 
 lieved and obeyed, in whatsoever he does enjoin and 
 deliver to the sons of men : and therefore that we 
 are to repent, and believe, and rest upon him for 
 salvation, and to deny ourselves : and within the 
 compass of this is included whatsoever is called 
 gospel. 
 
 As for the manner of our denying the deity of 
 Christ here prohibited, I conceive, it was by words 
 and oral expressions verbally to deny and disac- 
 knowledge it. This I ground upon these reasons : 
 
 1. Because it was such a denial as was before men, 
 and therefore consisted in open prefession ; for a de-
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 67 
 
 nial in judgment and practice, as such, is not always 
 before men. 
 
 2. Because it was such a denial or confession of 
 him as would appear in preaching : but this is ma- 
 naged in words and verbal profession. 
 
 But now, (2.) if we take the words as they are a 
 general precept, equally relating to all times and to 
 all persons, though delivered only upon a particular 
 occasion to the apostles, (as I suppose they are to be 
 understood;) so I think they comprehend all the 
 three ways mentioned of confessing or denying 
 Christ : but principally in respect of practice ; and 
 that, 1. Because by this he is most honoured or dis- 
 honoured. 2. Because without this the other two 
 cannot save. S. Because those who are ready enough 
 to confess him both in judgment and profession, are 
 for the most part very prone to deny him shamefully 
 in their doings. 
 
 Pass we now to a second thing, vi%. to shew, 
 
 II. What are the causes inducing men to deny 
 Christ in his truths. I shall propose three. 
 
 1. The seeming supposed absurdity of many 
 truths : upon this foundation heresy always builds. 
 The heathens derided the Christians, that still they 
 required and pressed belief; and well they might, 
 say they, since the articles of their religion are so 
 absurd, that upon principles of science they can 
 never win assent. It is easy to draw it forth and 
 demonstrate, how upon this score the chief heresies, 
 that now are said to trouble the church, do oppose 
 and deny the most important truths in divinity. 
 As first, hear the denier of the deity and satisfaction 
 of Christ. What, says he, can the same person be 
 God and man ? the creature and the creator ? Can 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A SERMON 
 
 we ascribe such attributes to the same thing, where- 
 of one implies a negation and a contradiction of the 
 other ? Can he be also finite and infinite, when to 
 be finite is not to be infinite, and to be infinite not 
 to be finite ? And when we distinguish between the 
 person and the nature, was not that distinction an 
 invention of the schools, savouring rather of meta- 
 physics than divinity ? If we say, that he must 
 have been God, because he was to mediate between 
 us and God, by the same reason, they will reply, we 
 should need a mediator between us and Christ, who 
 is equally God, equally offended. Then for his 
 satisfaction, they will demand to whom this satis- 
 faction is paid ? If to God, then God pays a price to 
 himself: and what is it else to require and need no 
 satisfaction, than for one to satisfy himself? Next 
 comes in the denier of the decrees and free grace of 
 God. What, says he, shall we exhort, admonish, 
 and entreat the saints to beware of falling away 
 finally, and at the same time assert, that it is impos- 
 sible for them so to fall ? What, shall we erect two 
 contradictory wills in God, or place two contradicto- 
 ries in the same will ? and make the will of his 
 purpose and intention run counter to the will of his 
 approbation ? Hear another concerning the scripture 
 and justification. What, says the Romanist, rely 
 in matters of faith upon a private spirit ? How do 
 you know this is the sense of such a scripture ? 
 Why, by the Spirit. But how will you try that 
 Spirit to be of God? Why, by the scripture. This he 
 explodes as a circle, and so derides it. Then for 
 justification. How are you justified by an imputed 
 righteousness? Is it yours before it is imputed, or 
 not ? If not, as we must say, is this to be justified
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 69 
 
 to have that accounted yours, that is not yours ? But 
 again, did you ever hear of any man made rich or 
 wise by imputation ? Why then righteous or just ? 
 Now these seeming paradoxes, attending gospel 
 truths, cause men of weak, prejudiced intellectuals 
 to deny them, and in them, Christ ; being ashamed 
 to own faith so much, as they think, to the dispa- 
 ragement of their reason. 
 
 2. The second thing causing men to deny the 
 truths of Christ is their unprofitableness. And no 
 wonder, if here men forsake the truth, and assert 
 interest. To be pious is the way to be poor. Truth 
 still gives its followers its own badge and livery, a 
 despised nakedness. It is hard to maintain the 
 truth, but much harder to be maintained by it. 
 Could it ever yet feed, clothe, or defend its assertors ? 
 Did ever any man quench his thirst or satisfy his 
 hunger with a notion ? Did ever any one live upon 
 propositions? The testimony of Brutus concerning 
 virtue is the apprehension of most concerning truth : 
 that it is a name, but lives and estates are things, 
 and therefore not to be thrown away upon words. 
 That we are neither to worship or cringe to any 
 thing under the Deity, is a truth too strict for a 
 Naaman : he can be content to worship the true 
 God, but then it must be in the house of Rimmon : 
 the reason was implied in his condition; he was cap- 
 tain of the host, and therefore he thought it reason 
 good to bow to Rimmon, rather than endanger his 
 place : better bow than break. Indeed sometimes 
 Providence casts things so, that truth and interest lie 
 the same way : and, when it is wrapt up in this 
 covering, men can be content to follow it, to press 
 hard after it, but it is, as we pursue some beasts, 
 
 F 3
 
 70 A SERMON 
 
 only for their skins : take off the covering, and 
 though men obtain the truth, they would lament the 
 loss of that : as Jacob wept and mourned over the 
 torn coat, when Joseph was alive. It is incredible 
 to consider how interest outweighs truth. If a 
 thing in itself be doubtful, let it make for interest, 
 and it shall be raised at least into a probable ; and if 
 a truth be certain, and thwart interest, it will quickly 
 fetch it down to but a probability : nay, if it does 
 not carry with it an impregnable evidence, it will go 
 near to debase it to a downright falsity. How much 
 interest casts the balance in cases dubious, I could 
 give sundry instances : let one suffice : and that con- 
 cerning the unlawfulness of usury. Most of the 
 learned men in the world successively, both heathen 
 and Christian, do assert the taking of use to be 
 utterly unlawful ; yet the divines of the reformed 
 church beyond the seas, though most severe and 
 rigid in other things, do generally affirm it to be 
 lawful. That the case is doubtful, and may be dis- 
 puted with plausible arguments on either side, we 
 may well grant : but what then is the reason, that 
 makes these divines so unanimously concur in this 
 opinion? Indeed I shall not affirm this to be the 
 reason, but it may seem so to many : that they receive 
 their salaries by way of pension, in present ready 
 money, and so have no other way to improve them ; 
 so that it may be suspected, that the change of their 
 salary would be the strongest argument to change 
 their opinion. The truth is, interest is the grand 
 wheel and spring that moves the whole universe. 
 Let Christ and truth say what they will, if interest 
 will have it, gain must be godliness : if enthusiasm 
 is in request, learning must be inconsistent with
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 71 
 
 grace. If pay grows short, the university mainte- 
 nance must be too great. Rather than Pilate will 
 be counted Caesar's enemy, he will pronounce Christ 
 innocent one hour, and condemn him the next. 
 How Christ is made to truckle under the world, 
 and how his truths are denied and shuffled with 
 for profit and pelf, the clearest proof would be by 
 induction and example. But as it is the most clear, 
 so here it would be the most unpleasing : wherefore 
 I shall pass this over, since the world is now so pec- 
 cant upon this account, that I am afraid instances 
 would be mistaken for invectives. 
 
 3. The third cause inducing men to deny Christ in 
 his truths is their apparent danger. To confess 
 Christ is the ready way to be cast out of the syna- 
 gogue. The church is a place of graves, as well as 
 of worship and profession. To be resolute in a 
 good cause is to bring upon ourselves the punish- 
 ments jiiie to a bad. Truth indeed is a possession 
 of the highest value, and therefore it must needs ex- 
 pose the owner to much danger. Christ is sometimes 
 pleased to make the profession of himself costly, and 
 a man cannot buy the truth, but he must pay down 
 his life and his dearest blood for it. Christianity 
 marks a man out for destruction ; and Christ some- 
 times chalks out such a way to salvation as shall 
 verify his own saying, He that will save his life 
 shall lose it. The first ages of the church had a 
 more abundant experience of this : what Paul and 
 the rest planted by their preaching, they watered 
 with their blood. We know their usage was such, 
 as Christ foretold ; he sent them to wolves, and the 
 common course then was, Christianas ad leones. For 
 a man to give his name to Christianity in those days 
 
 F 4
 
 72 A SERMON 
 
 was to list himself a martyr, and to bid farewell, not 
 only to the pleasures, but also to the hopes of this 
 life. Neither was it a single death only that then 
 attended this profession, but the terror and sharpness 
 of it was redoubled in the manner and circumstance. 
 They had persecutors, whose invention was as great 
 as their cruelty. Wit and malice conspired to find 
 out such tortures, such deaths, and those of such in- 
 credible anguish, that only the manner of dying was 
 the punishment, death itself the deliverance. To 
 be a martyr signifies only to witness the truth of 
 Christ, but the witnessing of the truth was then so 
 generally attended with this event, that martyrdom 
 now signifies, not only to witness, but to witness by 
 death : the word, besides its own signification, im- 
 porting their practice. And since Christians have 
 been freed from heathens, Christians themselves have 
 turned persecutors. Since Rome from heathen was 
 turned Christian, it has improved its persecution into 
 an inquisition. Now, when Christ and truth are 
 upon these terms, that men cannot confess him, but 
 upon pain of death, the reason of their apostasy and 
 denial is clear ; men will be wise, and leave truth 
 and misery to such as love it ; they are resolved to 
 be cunning, let others run the hazard of being sin- 
 cere. If they must be good at so high a rate, they 
 know they may be safe at a cheaper. Si negare 
 sufficiat, quis erit nocens ? If to deny Christ will 
 save them, the truth shall never make them guilty. 
 Let Christ and his flock lie open, and exposed to all 
 weather of persecution, foxes will be sure to have 
 holes. And if it comes to this, that they must either 
 renounce their religion, deny and blaspheme Christ, 
 or forfeit their lives to the fire or the sword, it is
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 73 
 
 but inverting Job's wife's advice, Curse God, and 
 live. 
 
 III. We proceed now to the third thing, which is 
 to shew, how far a man may consult his safety, &c. 
 
 This he may do two ways. 
 
 1. By withdrawing his person. Martyrdom is an 
 heroic act of faith : an achievement beyond an 
 ordinary pitch of it ; To you, says the Spirit, it is 
 given to suffer, Phil. i. 29. It is a peculiar addi- 
 tional gift : it is a distinguishing excellency of de- 
 gree, not an essential consequent of its nature. Be 
 ye harmless as doves, says Christ ; and it is as natu- 
 ral to them to take flight upon danger, as to be in- 
 nocent : let every man throughly consult the temper 
 of his faith, and weigh his courage with his fears, 
 his weakness and his resolution together, and take 
 the measure of both, and see which preponderates ; 
 and if his spirit faints, if his heart misgives and 
 melts at the very thoughts of the fire, let him fly, 
 and secure his own soul, and Christ's honour. Non 
 negat Christum fugiendo, qui ideofugit ne neget : 
 he does not deny Christ by flying, who therefore 
 flies that he may not deny him. Nay, he does not 
 so much decline, as rather change his martyrdom : 
 he flies from the flame, but repairs to a desert; 
 to poverty and hunger in a wilderness. Whereas, 
 if he would dispense with his conscience, and deny 
 his Lord, or swallow down two or three contradic- 
 tory oaths, he should neither fear the one, nor be 
 forced to the other. 
 
 2. By concealing his judgment. A man some- 
 times is no more bound to speak, than to destroy 
 himself: and as nature abhors this, so religion does 
 not command that. In the times of the primitive
 
 74 A SERMON 
 
 church, when the Christians dwelt amongst hea- 
 thens, it is reported of a certain maid, how she 
 came from her father's house to one of the tribu- 
 nals of the gentiles, and declared herself a Christian, 
 spit in the judge's face, and so provoked him to 
 cause her to be executed. But will any say, that 
 this was to confess Christ, to die a martyr? He 
 that, uncalled for, uncompelled, comes and proclaims 
 a persecuted truth, for which he is sure to die, only 
 dies a confessor of his own folly, and a sacrifice to 
 his own rashness. Martyrdom is stamped such only 
 by God's command; and he that ventures upon it 
 without a call, must endure it without a reward : 
 Christ will say, Who required this at your hands f 
 His gospel does not dictate imprudence ; no evange- 
 lical precept justles out that of a lawful self-preserv- 
 ation. He therefore that thus throws himself upon 
 the sword, runs to heaven before he is sent for; 
 where, though perhaps Christ may in mercy receive 
 the man, yet he will be sure to disown the martyr. 
 
 And thus much concerning those lawful ways of 
 securing ourselves in time of persecution : not as if 
 these were always lawful : for sometimes a man is 
 bound to confess Christ openly, though he dies for 
 it ; and to conceal a truth is to deny it. But now, 
 to shew when it is our duty, and when unlawful to 
 take these courses, by some general rule of a per- 
 petual, never-failing truth, none ever would yet pre- 
 sume: for, as Aristotle says, we are not to expect de- 
 monstrations in ethics or politics, nor to build cer- 
 tain rules upon the contingency of human actions : 
 so, inasmuch as our flying from persecution, our 
 confessing or concealing persecuted truths, vary and 
 change their very nature, according to different cir-
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 75 
 
 cumstances of time, place, and persons, we cannot 
 limit their directions within any one universal pre- 
 cept. You will say then, how shall we know when 
 to confess, when to conceal a truth ? when to wait 
 for, when to decline persecution ? Indeed, the only 
 way that I think can be prescribed in this case, is to 
 be earnest and importunate with God in prayer for 
 special direction : and it is not to be imagined, that 
 he, who is both faithful and merciful, will leave a 
 sincere soul in the dark upon such an occasion. But 
 this I shall add, that the ministers of God are not to 
 evade, or take refuge in any of these two foremen- 
 tioned ways. They are public persons ; and good 
 shepherds must then chiefly stand close to the flock, 
 when the wolf comes. For them to be silent in the 
 cause of Christ, is to renounce it ; and to fly, is to 
 desert it. As for that place urged in favour of the 
 contrary, in ver. 23. When they persecute you in this 
 city, flee into another, it proves nothing ; for the 
 precept was particular, and concerned only the apo- 
 stles ; and that, but for that time in which they 
 were then sent to the Jews, at which time Christ 
 kept them as a reserve for the future : for when 
 after his death they were indifferently sent both to 
 Jews and gentiles, we find not this clause in their 
 commission, but they were to sign the truths they 
 preached with their blood; as we know they actually 
 did. And moreover, when Christ bids them, being 
 persecuted in one city, fly into another, it was not 
 (as Grotius acutely observes) that they might lie 
 hid, or be secure in that city, but that there they 
 might preach the gospel: so that their flight here 
 was not to secure their persons, but to continue 
 their business. I conclude therefore, that faithful
 
 76 A SERMON 
 
 ministers are to stand and endure the brunt. A 
 common soldier may fly, when it is the duty of him 
 that holds the standard to die upon the place. And 
 we have abundant encouragement so to do. Christ 
 has seconded and sweetened his command with his 
 promise : yea, the thing itself is not only our duty, 
 but our glory. And he who has done this work, 
 has in the very work partly received his wages. 
 And were it put to my choice, I think I should 
 choose rather with spitting and scorn to be tumbled 
 into the dust in blood, bearing witness to any known 
 truth of our dear Lord, now opposed by the enthu- 
 siasts of the present age, than by a denial of those 
 truths through blood and perjury wade to a sceptre, 
 and lord it in a throne. And we need not doubt, 
 but truth, however oppressed, will have some fol- 
 lowers, and at length prevail. A Christ, though 
 crucified, will arise : and as it is in Rev. xi. 3. 
 the witnesses will prophesy, though it be in sack- 
 cloth. 
 
 IV. Having thus despatched the third thing, I 
 proceed to the fourth, which is to shew, what it is 
 for Christ to deny us before his Father in heaven. 
 Hitherto we have treated of men's carriage to 
 Christ in this world ; now we will describe his car- 
 riage to them in the other. These words clearly 
 relate to the last judgment, and they are a summary 
 description of his proceeding with men at that day. 
 
 And here we will consider, 
 
 1 . The action itself, He will deny them. 
 
 2. The circumstance of the action, He will deny 
 them before his Father and the holy angels. 
 
 1. Concerning the first: Christ's denying us is 
 otherwise expressed in Luke xiii. 27. / know you
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 77 
 
 not. To know, in scripture language, is to approve ; 
 and so, not to know, is to reject and condemn. 
 Now who knows how may woes are crowded into 
 this one sentence, / will deny him? It is (to say no 
 more) a compendious expression of hell, an eternity 
 of torments comprised in a word: it is condemnation 
 itself, and, what is most of all, it is condemnation 
 from the mouth of a Saviour. O the inexpressible 
 horror that will seize upon a poor sinner, when he 
 stands arraigned at the bar of divine justice! When 
 he shall look about, and see his accuser, his judge, 
 the witnesses, all of them his remorseless adversa- 
 ries ; the law impleading, mercy and the gospel up- 
 braiding him, the devil, his grand accuser, drawing 
 his indictment; numbering his sins with the greatest 
 exactness, and aggravating them with the cruelest 
 bitterness; and conscience, like a thousand witnesses, 
 attesting every article, flying in his face, and rend- 
 ing his ' very heart : and then after all, Christ, from 
 whom only mercy could be expected, owning the 
 accusation. It will be hell enough to hear the sen- 
 tence ; the very promulgation of the punishment 
 will be part of the punishment, and anticipate the 
 execution. If Peter was so abashed when Christ 
 gave him a look after his denial; if there was so 
 much dread in his looks when he stood as prisoner, 
 how much greater will it be when he sits as a 
 judge ! If it was so fearful when he looked his de- 
 nier into repentance, what will it be when he shall 
 look him into destruction ! Believe it, when we 
 shall hear an accusation from an advocate, our eter- 
 nal doom from our intercessor, it will convince us 
 that a denial of Christ is something more than a 
 few transitory words : what trembling, what outcries,
 
 78 A SERMON 
 
 what astonishment will there be upon the pronounc- 
 ing this sentence ! Every word will come upon the 
 sinner like an arrow striking through his reins ; like 
 thunder, that is heard, and consumes at the same in- 
 stant. Yea, it will be a denial with scorn, with 
 taunting exprobrations : and to be miserable without 
 commiseration is the height of misery He that 
 falls below pity, can fall no lower. Could I give you 
 a lively representation of guilt and horror on this 
 hand, and paint out eternal wrath, and decipher 
 eternal vengeance on the other, then might I shew 
 you the condition of a sinner hearing himself denied 
 by Christ : and for those whom Christ has denied, it 
 will be hi vain to appeal to the Father, unless we can 
 imagine that those whom mercy has condemned, jus- 
 tice will absolve. 
 
 2. For the circumstance, He will deny us before 
 his Father and the holy angels. As much as God 
 is more glorious than man, so much is it more glo- 
 rious to be confessed before him, than before men : 
 and so much glory as there is in being confessed, so 
 much dishonour there is in being denied. If there 
 could be any room for comfort after the sentence of 
 damnation, it would be this, to be executed in secret, 
 to perish unobserved : as it is some allay to the in- 
 famy of him who died ignominiously, to be buried 
 privately. But when a man's folly must be spread 
 open before the angels, and all his baseness ript up 
 before those pure spirits, this will be a double hell : 
 to be thrust into utter darkness, only to be punished 
 by it, without the benefit of being concealed. When 
 Christ shall compare himself, who was denied, and 
 the thing for which he was denied, together, and 
 parallel his merits with a lust, and lay eternity in
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 79 
 
 the balance with a trifle, then the folly of the sin- 
 ner's choice shall be the greatest sting of his destruc- 
 tion. For a man shall not have the advantage of 
 his former ignorances and error to approve his sin : 
 things that appeared amiable by the light of this 
 world, will appear of a different odious hue in the 
 clear discoveries of the next : as that which appears 
 to be of this colour by a dim candle, will be found 
 to be of another, looked upon in the day. So when 
 Christ shall have cleared up men's apprehensions 
 about the value of things, he will propose that wor- 
 thy prize for which he was denied ; he will hold it 
 up to open view, and call upon men and angels : Be- 
 hold, look, here's the thing, here's that piece of dirt, 
 that windy applause, that poor transitory pleasure, 
 that contemptible danger, for which I was disho- 
 noured, my truths disowned, and for which, life, eter- 
 nity, and God himself was scorned and trampled 
 upon by 'this sinner: judge, all the world, whether 
 what he so despised in the other life, he deserves to 
 enjoy in this. How will the condemned sinner then 
 crawl forth, and appear in his filth and shame, be- 
 fore that undefiled tribunal, like a toad or a snake 
 in a king's presence-chamber ! Nothing so irksome, 
 as to have one's folly displayed before the prudent ; 
 one's impurity before the pure. And all this before 
 that company surrounding him, from which he is 
 neither able to look off, nor yet to look upon. A 
 disgrace put upon a man in company is unsupport- 
 able : it is heightened according to the greatness, 
 and multiplied according to the number of the per- 
 sons that hear it. And now as this circumstance 
 [before his Father] fully speaks the shame, so like- 
 wise it speaks the danger of Christ's then denying
 
 8Q A SERMON 
 
 us. For when the accusation is heard, and the per- 
 son stands convict, God is immediately lifting up his 
 hand to inflict the eternal blow ; and when Christ 
 denies to exhibit a ransom, to step between the 
 stroke then coming and the sinner, it must inevit- 
 ably fall upon him, and sink his guilty soul into that 
 deep and bottomless gulph of endless perdition. 
 This therefore is the sum of Christ's denying us be- 
 fore his Father, viz. unsupportable shame, unavoid- 
 able destruction. 
 
 V. I proceed now to the uses which may be 
 drawn from the truths delivered. And here, 
 
 1. (Right honourable) not only the present occa- 
 sion, but even the words themselves, seem eminently 
 to address an exhortation to your honours. As for 
 others not to deny Christ, is openly to profess him ; 
 so for you who are invested with authority, not to 
 deny him, is to defend him. Know therefore, that 
 Christ does not only desire, but demand your de- 
 fence, and that in a double respect. 
 
 (1.) In respect of his truth. (2.) Of his members. 
 
 (1.) He requires that you should defend and con- 
 fess him in his truth. Heresy is a tare sometimes 
 not to be pulled up but by the civil magistrate. The 
 word liberty of conscience is much abused for the 
 defence of it, because not well understood. Every 
 man may have liberty of conscience to think and 
 judge as he pleases, but not to vent what he pleases. 
 The reason is, because conscience bounding itself 
 within the thoughts is of private concernment, and 
 the cognizance of these belong only to God : but 
 when an opinion is published, it concerns all that 
 hear it ; and the public is endamaged, and therefore 
 becomes punishable by the magistrate, to whom the
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 81 
 
 care of the public is intrusted. But there is one 
 truth that concerns both ministry and magistracy, 
 and all ; which is opposed by those who affirm, that 
 none ought to govern upon the earth, but Christ in 
 person : absurdly ; as if the powers that are, de- 
 stroyed his ; as if a deputy were not consistent with 
 a king ; as if there were any opposition in subordi- 
 nation. They affirm also, that the wicked have no 
 right to their estates ; but only the faithful, that is, 
 themselves, ought to possess the earth. And it is 
 not to be questioned, but when they come to explain 
 this principle, by putting it into execution, there 
 will be but few that have estates at present, but will 
 be either found, or made wicked. I shall not be so 
 urgent, to press you to confess Christ, by asserting 
 and owning the truth, contrary to this, since it does 
 not only oppose truth, but property ; and here to 
 deny Christ, would be to deny yourselves, in a sense 
 which none is like to do. 
 
 (2.) Christ requires you to own and defend him 
 in his members ; and amongst these, the chief of 
 them, and such as most fall in your way, the minis- 
 ters ; I say, that despised, abject, oppressed sort of 
 men, the ministers, whom the world would make 
 antichristian, and so deprive them of heaven ; and 
 also strip them of that poor remainder of their main- 
 tenance, and so allow them no portion upon the 
 earth. You may now spare that distinction of scan- 
 dalous ministers, when it is even made scandalous to 
 be a minister. And as for their discouragement in 
 the courts of the law, I shall only note this, that for 
 these many years last past, 'it has been the constant 
 observation of all, that if a minister had a cause de- 
 pending in the court, it was ten to one but it went 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 A SERMON 
 
 against him. I cannot believe your law justles out 
 the gospel; but if it be thus used to undermine 
 Christ in his servants, beware that such judgments 
 passed upon them, do not fetch down God's judg- 
 ments upon the land; and that for such abuse of 
 law, Christ does not in anger deprive both you and 
 us of its use. (My lords) I make no doubt, but you 
 will meet with many suits in your course, in which 
 the persons we speak of are concerned, as it is easy 
 to prognosticate from those many worthy petitions 
 preferred against them, for which the well-affected 
 petitioners a will one day receive but small thanks 
 from the court of heaven. But however their causes 
 speed in your tribunals, know that Christ himself 
 will recognize them at a greater. And then, what 
 a different face will be put upon things ! When the 
 usurping, devouring Nimrods of the world shall be 
 cast with scorn on the left hand ; and Christ him- 
 self in that great consistory shall deign to step down 
 from his throne, and single out a poor despised mi- 
 nister, and (as it were taking him by the hand) pre- 
 sent him to, and openly thus confess him before his 
 Father : Father, here is a poor servant of mine, who, 
 for doing his duty impartially, for keeping a good 
 conscience, and testifying my truths in an hypocriti- 
 cal pretending age, was wronged, trod upon, stripped 
 of all : Father, I will that there be now a distinction 
 made, between such as have owned and confessed 
 me with the loss of the world, and those that have 
 denied, persecuted, and insulted over me. It will be 
 
 a Whensoever any petition the house were still returned to 
 
 was put up to the parliament them, and that by the name 
 
 in the year 1653, for the taking and elogy of the well-affected 
 
 away of tithes, the thanks of petitioners.
 
 ON MATTHEW X. 33. 83 
 
 in vain then to come and creep for mercy ; and say, 
 Lord, when did we insult over thee ? when did we 
 see thee in our courts, and despised or oppressed 
 thee ? Christ's reply will be then quick and sharp : 
 Verily, inasmuch as you did it to one of these little, 
 poor despised ones, ye did it unto me. 
 
 2. Use is of information, to shew us the danger as 
 well as the baseness of a dastardly spirit, in asserting 
 the interest and truth of Christ. Since Christ has 
 made a Christian course a warfare, of all men living 
 a coward is the most unfit to make a Christian : 
 whose infamy is not so great, but it is sometimes 
 less than his peril. A coward does not always scape 
 with disgrace, but sometimes also he loses his life : 
 wherefore, let all such know, as can enlarge their 
 consciences like hell, and call any sinful compliance 
 submission, and* style a cowardly silence in Christ's 
 cause, discretion and prudence ; I say, let them 
 know, that Christ will one day scorn them, and spit 
 them, with their policy and prudence, into hell ; and 
 then let them consult, how politic they were, for a 
 temporal emolument, to throw away eternity. The 
 things which generally cause men to deny Christ 
 are, either the enjoyments or the miseries of this 
 life : but alas ! at the day of judgment all these will 
 expire; and, as one well observes, what are we the 
 better for pleasure, or the worse for sorrow, when it 
 is past ? But then sin and guilt will be still fresh, 
 .and heaven and hell will be then yet to begin. If 
 ever it was seasonable to preach courage in the de- 
 spised, abused cause of Christ, it is now, when his 
 truths are reformed into nothing, when the hands 
 and hearts of his faithful ministers are weakened, 
 and even broke, and his worship extirpated in a 
 
 G 2
 
 64 A SERMON ON MATT. X. 33. 
 
 mockery, that his honour may be advanced. Well, 
 to establish our hearts in duty, let us beforehand 
 propose to ourselves the worst that can happen. 
 Should God in his judgment suffer England to be 
 transformed into a Munster : should the faithful be 
 every where massacred : should the places of learn- 
 ing be demolished, and our colleges reduced (not 
 only as one a in his zeal would have it) to three, but 
 to none ; yet, assuredly, hell is worse than all this, 
 and is the portion of such as deny Christ : wherefore, 
 let our discouragements be what they will, loss of 
 places, loss of estates, loss of life and relations, yet 
 still this sentence stands ratified in the decrees of 
 Heaven, Cursed be that man, that for any of these 
 shall desert the truth, and deny his Lord. 
 
 a A colonel of the army, universities, and that three col- 
 
 the perfidious cause of Penrud- leges were sufficient to answer 
 
 dock's death, and some time the occasions of the nation, for 
 
 after high-sheriff of Oxford- the breeding of men up to 
 
 shire, openly and frequently af- learning, so far as it was either 
 
 firmed the uselessness of the necessary or useful.
 
 Ecclesiastical Policy the best Policy : 
 
 OR 
 
 RELIGION THE BEST REASON OF STATE : 
 
 SERMON 
 
 PREACHED 
 
 BEFORE THE HONOURABLE SOCIETY OF 
 LINCOLN'S INN. 
 
 1 KINGS xiii. 33, 34. 
 
 After this thing Jeroboam returned not from his evil way, 
 but made again of the lowest of the people priests of the 
 high places: whosoever would, he consecrated him, and 
 he became one of the priests of the high places. And this 
 thing became sin unto the liouse of Jeroboam, even to cut 
 it off, and to destroy it from off the face of the earth. 
 
 JEROBOAM (from the name of a person become 
 the character of impiety) is reported to posterity 
 eminent, or rather infamous, for two things ; usurp- 
 ation of government, and innovation of religion. It 
 is confessed, the former is expressly said to have 
 been from God ; but since God may order and dis- 
 pose what he does not approve, and use the wicked- 
 ness of men while he forbids it, the design of the 
 first cause does not excuse the malignity of the se- 
 cond: and therefore, the advancement and sceptre 
 of Jeroboam was in that sense only the work of God, 
 
 G 3
 
 86 A SERMON 
 
 in which it is said, Amos iii. 6. that there is no 
 evil in the city which the Lord hath not done. But 
 from his attempts upon the civil power, he proceeds 
 to innovate God's worship ; and from the subjection 
 of men's bodies and estates, to enslave their con- 
 sciences, as knowing that true religion is no friend 
 to an unjust title. Such was afterwards the way of 
 Mahomet, to the tyrant to join the impostor, and 
 what he had got by the sword to confirm by the Al- 
 coran ; raising his empire upon two pillars, conquest 
 and inspiration. Jeroboam being thus advanced, 
 and thinking policy the best piety, though indeed in 
 nothing ever more befooled, the nature of sin being 
 not only to defile, but to infatuate ; in the xiith 
 chapter, and the 27th verse, he thus argues ; If this 
 people go up to do sacrifice in the house of the 
 Lord at Jerusalem, then shall the heart of this 
 people turn again unto their lord, even unto Re- 
 hoboam king of Judah, and they shall kill me, and 
 go again unto Rehoboam king of Judah. As if he 
 should have said ; The true worship of God, and the 
 converse of those that use it, dispose men to a consi- 
 derate lawful subjection. And therefore I must take 
 another course : my practice must not be better than 
 my title ; what was won by force, must be continued 
 by delusion. Thus sin is usually seconded with sin ; 
 and a man seldom commits one sin to please, but he 
 commits another to defend himself: as it is fre- 
 quent for the adulterer to commit murder, to conceal 
 the shame of his adultery. But let us see Jeroboam's 
 politic procedure in the next verse. Whereupon 
 the king took counsel, and made two calves of gold, 
 and said unto them-, It is too much for you to go 
 up to Jerusalem : behold thy gods, O Israel. As
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 87 
 
 if he had made such an edict : I Jeroboam, by the 
 advice of my council, considering the great distance 
 of the temple, and the great charges that poor peo- 
 ple are put to in going thither ; as also the intole- 
 rable burden of paying the first-fruits and tithes to 
 the priest, have considered of a way that may be 
 more easy, and less burdensome to the people, as 
 also more comfortable to the priests themselves; and 
 therefore strictly enjoin, that none henceforth pre- 
 sume to repair to the temple at Jerusalem, especially 
 since God is not tied to any place or form of wor- 
 ship ; as also because the devotion of men is apt to 
 be clogged by such ceremonies ; therefore, both for 
 the ease of the people, as well as for the advance- 
 ment of religion, we require and command, that all 
 henceforth forbear going up to Jerusalem. Ques- 
 tionless these and such other reasons the impostor 
 used, to insinuate his devout idolatry. And thus 
 the calves were set up, to which oxen must be sa- 
 crificed"; the god and the sacrifice out of the same 
 herd. And because Israel was not to return to E- 
 gypt, Egypt was brought back to them : that is, the 
 Egyptian way of worship, the Apis, or Serapis, 
 which was nothing but the image of a calf or ox, as 
 is clear from most historians. Thus Jeroboam hav- 
 ing procured his people gods, the next thing was to 
 provide priests. Hereupon to the calves he adds a 
 commission for the approving, trying, and admitting 
 the rascality and lowest of the people to minister in 
 that service : such as kept cattle, with a little change 
 of their office, were admitted to make oblations to 
 them. And doubtless, besides the approbation of 
 these, there was a commission also to eject such of 
 the priests and Levites of God, as being too ceremo- 
 
 G 4
 
 88 A SERMON 
 
 niously addicted to the temple, would not serve Je- 
 roboam before God, nor worship his calves for their 
 gold, nor approve those two glittering sins for any 
 reason of state whatsoever. Having now perfected 
 divine worship, and prepared both gods and priests ; 
 in the next place, that he might the better teach 
 his false priests the way of their new worship, he 
 begins the service himself, and so countenances by 
 his example what he had enjoined by his command, 
 in the llth verse of this chapter; and Jeroboam 
 stood by the altar to burn incense. Burning of in- 
 cense was then the ministerial office amongst them, 
 as preaching is now amongst us. So that to repre- 
 sent to you the nature of Jeroboam's action ; it was, 
 as if in a Christian nation the chief governor should 
 authorize and encourage all the scum and refuse of 
 the people to preach, and call them to the ministry 
 by using to preach a , and invade the ministerial 
 function himself. But Jeroboam rested not here, 
 but while he was busy in his work, and a prophet 
 immediately sent by God declares against his ido- 
 latry, he endeavours to seize upon and commit him ; 
 in ver. 4. lie held forth his hand from the altar, 
 and said, Lay hold of him. Thus we have him 
 completing his sin, and by a strange imposition of 
 hands persecuting the true prophets, as well as or- 
 daining false. But it was a natural transition, and 
 no ways wonderful to see him, who stood affronting 
 God with false incense in the right hand, persecut- 
 ing with the left, and abetting the idolatry of one 
 arm with the violence of the other. Now if we lay 
 all these things together, and consider the parts, 
 
 a Cromwell (a lively copy of Jeroboam) did so.
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 89 
 
 rise, and degrees of his sin, we shall find, that it was 
 not for nothing that the Spirit of God so frequently 
 and bitterly in scripture stigmatizes this person ; 
 for it represents him first encroaching upon the civil 
 government, thence changing that of the church, 
 debasing the office that God had made sacred, in- 
 troducing a false way of worship, and destroying 
 the true. And in this we have a full and fair de- 
 scription of a foul thing, that is, of an usurper and 
 an impostor : or, to use one word more comprehen- 
 sive than both, of Jeroboam the son of Nebat, who 
 made Israel to sin. 
 
 From the story and practice of Jeroboam, we 
 might gather these observations. 
 
 1. That God sometimes punishes a notorious sin, 
 by suffering the sinner to fall into a worse. 
 
 Thus God punished the rebellion of the Israelites, 
 by permitting them to fall into idolatry. 
 
 2. There is nothing so absurd, but may be ob- 
 truded upon the vulgar under pretence of religion. 
 
 Certainly, otherwise a golden calf could never 
 have been made either the object or the means of 
 divine worship. 
 
 3. Sin, especially that of perverting God's wor- 
 ship, as it leaves a guilt upon the soul, so it perpe- 
 tuates a blot upon the name. 
 
 Hence nothing so frequent, as for the Spirit of 
 God to express wicked, irreligious kings, by com- 
 paring them to Ahab or Jeroboam. It being usual 
 to make the first and most eminent in any kind, not 
 only the standard for comparison, but also the rule 
 of expression. 
 
 But I shall insist only upon the words of the 
 text, and what shall be drawn from thence. There
 
 90 A SERMON 
 
 are two things in the words that may seem to re- 
 quire explication. 
 
 1. What is meant by the high places. 
 
 2. What by the consecration of the priests. 
 
 1. Concerning the high places. The use of these 
 in the divine worship was general and ancient ; and 
 as Dionysius Vossius observes in his notes upon 
 Moses Maimonides, the first way that was used, long 
 before temples were either built or thought lawful. 
 The reason of this seems to be, because those places 
 could not be thought to shut up or confine the im- 
 mensity of God, as they supposed an house did ; and 
 withal gave his worshippers a nearer approach to 
 heaven by their height. Hence we read that the 
 Samaritans worshipped upon mount Gerizim, John 
 iv. 20. and Samuel went up to the high place to 
 sacrifice, 1 Sam. ix. 14. and Solomon sacrificed at 
 the high place in Gibeon, 1 Kings iii. 4. Yea, the 
 temple itself was at length built upon a mount or 
 high place, 2 Chron. iii. 1. You will say then, why 
 are these places condemned ? I answer, that the use 
 of them was not condemned, as absolutely and al- 
 ways unlawful in itself, but only after the temple 
 was built, and that God had professed to put his 
 name in that place and no other : therefore, what 
 was lawful in the practice of Samuel and Solomon 
 before the temple was in being, was now detestable 
 in Jeroboam, since that was constituted by God the 
 only place for his worship. To bring this considera- 
 tion to the times of Christianity. Because the apo- 
 stles and primitive Christians preached in houses, 
 and had only private meetings, in regard they were 
 under persecution, and had no churches ; this can- 
 not warrant the practice of those nowadays, nor a
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 91 
 
 toleration of them, that prefer houses before churches, 
 and a conventicle before the congregation. 
 
 2. For the second thing, which is the consecration 
 of the priests ; it seems to have been correspondent 
 to ordination in the Christian church. Idolaters 
 themselves were not so far gone, as to venture upon 
 the priesthood without consecration and a call. To 
 shew all the solemnities of this would be tedious, 
 and here unnecessary : the Hebrew word which we 
 render to consecrate, signifies to fill the hand., which 
 indeed imports the manner of consecration, which 
 was done by filling the hand : for the priest cut a 
 piece of the sacrifice, and put it into the hands of 
 him that was to be consecrated ; by which ceremony 
 he received right to sacrifice, and so became a priest. 
 As our ordination in the Christian church is said to 
 have been heretofore transacted by the bishop's de- 
 livering of the Bible into the hands of him that was 
 to lie ordained, whereby he received power ministe- 
 rially *io dispense the mysteries contained in it, and 
 so was made a presbyter. Thus much briefly con- 
 cerning consecration. 
 
 There remains nothing else to be explained in 
 the words : I shall therefore now draw forth the 
 sense of them into these two propositions. 
 
 I. The surest means to strengthen, or the readi- 
 est to ruin the civil power, is either to establish or 
 destroy the worship of God in the right exercise of 
 religion. 
 
 II. The next and most effectual way to destroy 
 religion, is to embase the teachers and dispensers of 
 it. 
 
 Of both these in their order. 
 
 For the prosecution of the former we are to
 
 92 A SERMON 
 
 1. The truth of the assertion, that it is so. 
 
 2. The reason of the assertion, why and whence 
 
 it is so. 
 
 1. For the truth of it : it is abundantly evinced 
 from all records both of divine and profane history, 
 in which he that runs may read the ruin of the 
 state in the destruction of the church ; and that not 
 only portended by it, as its sign, but" also inferred 
 from it, as its cause. 
 
 2. For the reason of the point ; it may be drawn 
 (1.) From the judicial proceeding of God, the 
 
 great king of kings, and supreme ruler of the uni- 
 verse ; who for his commands is indeed careful, but 
 for his worship jealous : and therefore in states no- 
 toriously irreligious, by a secret and irresistible 
 power, countermands their deepest project, splits 
 their counsels, and smites their most refined policies 
 with frustration and a curse; being resolved that 
 the kingdoms of the world shall fall down before 
 him, either in his adoration, or their own confusion. 
 (2.) The reason of the doctrine may be drawn 
 from the necessary dependance of the very princi- 
 ples of government upon religion. And this I shall 
 pursue more fully. The great business of govern- 
 ment is to procure obedience, and keep off disobedi- 
 ence : the great springs upon which those two move 
 are rewards and punishments, answering the two 
 ruling affections of man's mind, hope and fear. For 
 since there is a natural opposition between the judg- 
 ment and the appetite, the former respecting what 
 is honest, the latter what is pleasing; which two 
 qualifications seldom concur in the same thing, and 
 since withal man's design in every action is delight ; 
 therefore to render things honest also practicable,
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 93 
 
 they must l>e first represented desirable, which can- 
 not be, but by proposing honesty clothed with plea- 
 sure ; and since it presents no pleasure to the sense, 
 it must be fetched from the apprehension of a future 
 reward : for questionless duty moves not so much 
 upon command as promise. Now therefore, that 
 which proposes the greatest and most suitable re- 
 wards to obedience, and the greatest terrors and 
 punishments to disobedience, doubtless is the most 
 likely to enforce one, and prevent the other. But it 
 is religion that does this, which to happiness and 
 misery joins eternity. And these, supposing the im- 
 mortality of the soul, which philosophy indeed con- 
 jectures, but only religion proves, or (which is as 
 good) persuades ; I say these two things, eternal 
 happiness and eternal misery, meeting with a per- 
 suasion that the soul is immortal, are, without con- 
 troversy, of all others, the first the most desirable, 
 and the latter the most horrible to human apprehen- 
 sion. Were it not for these, civil government were 
 not able to stand before the prevailing swing of cor- 
 rupt nature, which would know no honesty but ad- 
 vantage, no duty but in pleasure, nor any law but 
 its own will. Were not these frequently thundered 
 into the understandings of men, the magistrate 
 might enact, order, and proclaim ; proclamations 
 might be hung upon walls and posts, and there they 
 might hang, seen and despised, more like malefac- 
 tors than laws : but when religion binds them upon 
 the conscience, conscience will either persuade or 
 terrify men into their practice. For put the case, a 
 man knew, and that upon sure grounds, that he 
 might do an advantageous murder or robbery, and 
 not be discovered; what human laws could hinder
 
 94 A SERMON 
 
 him, which, he knows, cannot inflict any penalty, 
 where they can make no discovery ? But religion as- 
 sures him, that no sin, though concealed from hu- 
 man eyes, can either escape God's sight in this world, 
 or his vengeance in the other. Put the case also, 
 that men looked upon death without fear, in which 
 sense it is nothing, or at most very little ; ceasing, 
 while it is endured, and probably without pain, for 
 it seizes upon the vitals, and benumbs the senses, 
 and where there is no sense, there can be no pain : 
 I say, if while a man is acting his will towards sin, 
 he should also thus act his reason to despise death, 
 where would be the terror of the magistrate, who 
 can neither threaten or inflict any more ? Hence an 
 old malefactor in his execution at the gallows made 
 no other confession but this ; that he had very jo- 
 cundly passed over his life in such courses ; and he 
 that would not for fifty years' pleasure endure half 
 an hour's pain, deserved to die a worse death than 
 himself. Questionless this man was not ignorant 
 before, that there were such things as laws, assizes, 
 and gallows; but had he considered and believed 
 the terrors of another world, he might probably have 
 found a fairer passage out of this. If there was not 
 a minister in every parish, you would quickly find 
 cause to increase the number of constables : and if 
 the churches were not employed to be places to hear 
 God's law, there would be need of them to be pri- 
 sons for the breakers of the laws of men. Hence it 
 is observable, that the tribe of Levi had not one 
 place or portion together, like the rest of the tribes : 
 but, because it was their office to dispense religion, 
 they were diffused over all the tribes, that they 
 might be continually preaching to the rest their duty
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 95 
 
 to God ; which is the most effectual way to dispose 
 them to obedience to man : for he that truly fears 
 God cannot despise the magistrate. Yea, so near is 
 the connection between the civil state and religious, 
 that heretofore, if you look upon well regulated, ci- 
 vilized heathen nations, you will find the govern- 
 ment and the priesthood united in the same person ; 
 Anius rex idem hominum, Phcebique sacerdos, 
 Virg. 3. ./En. if under the true worship of God; 
 Melchisedech, king of Salem, and priest of the 
 most high God, Hebrews vii. 1. And afterwards 
 Moses, (whom as we acknowledge a pious, so atheists 
 themselves will confess to have been a wise prince,) 
 he, when he took the kingly government upon him- 
 self, by his own choice, seconded by divine institu- 
 tion, vested the priesthood in his brother Aaron, 
 both whose concernments were so coupled, that if 
 nature had not, yet their religious, nay, their civil 
 interests, would have made them brothers. And it 
 was once the design of the emperor of Germany, 
 Maximilian the first, to have joined the popedom 
 and the empire together, and to have got himself 
 chosen pope, and by that means derived the papacy 
 to succeeding emperors. Had he effected it, doubt- 
 less there would not have been such scuffles between 
 them and the bishop of Rome ; the civil interest of 
 the state would not have been undermined by an 
 adverse interest, managed by the specious and po- 
 tent pretences of religion. And to see, even amongst 
 us, how these two are united, how the former is up- 
 held by the latter : the magistrate sometimes cannot 
 do his own office dexterously, but by acting the mi- 
 nister : hence it is, that judges of assizes find it ne- 
 cessary in their charges to use pathetical discourses
 
 96 A SERMON 
 
 of conscience ; and if it were not for the sway of 
 this, they would often lose the best evidence in the 
 world against malefactors, which is confession : for 
 no man would confess and be hanged here, but to 
 avoid being damned hereafter. Thus I have in 
 general shewn the utter inability of the magistrate 
 to attain the ends of government, without the aid of 
 religion. But it may be here replied, that many 
 are not at all moved with arguments drawn from 
 hence, or with the happy or miserable state of the 
 soul after death ; and therefore this avails little to 
 procure obedience, and consequently to advance 
 government. I answer by concession : that this is 
 true of epicures, atheists, and some pretended philoso- 
 phers, who have stifled the notions of a Deity and the 
 soul's immortality ; but the unprepossessed on the 
 one hand, and the well-disposed on the other, who 
 both together make much the major part of the 
 world, are very apt to be affected with a due fear of 
 these things : and religion, accommodating itself to 
 the generality, though not to every particular tem- 
 per, sufficiently secures government ; inasmuch as 
 that stands or falls according to the behaviour of the 
 multitude. And whatsoever conscience makes the 
 generality obey, to that prudence will make the rest 
 conform. Wherefore, having proved the dependence 
 of government upon religion, I shall now demon- 
 strate, that the safety of government depends upon 
 the truth of religion. False religion is, in its nature, 
 the greatest bane and destruction to government in 
 the world. The reason is, because whatsoever is 
 false, is also weak. Ens and verum in philosophy 
 are the same : and so much as any religion has of 
 falsity, it loses of strength and existence. Falsity
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 97 
 
 gains authority only from ignorance, and therefore 
 is in danger to be known ; for from being false, the 
 next immediate step is to be known to be such, 
 And what prejudice this would be to the civil go- 
 vernment, is apparent, if men should be awed into 
 obedience, and affrighted from sin by rewards and 
 punishments, proposed to them in such a religion, 
 which afterwards should be detected, and found a 
 mere falsity and cheat ; for if one part be but found 
 to be false, it will make the whole suspicious. And 
 men will then not only cast off obedience to the 
 civil magistrate, but they will do it with disdain 
 and rage, that they have been deceived so long, and 
 brought to do that out of conscience, which was im- 
 posed upon them out of design : for though men are 
 often willingly deceived, yet still it must be under 
 an opinion of being instructed; though they love 
 the deception, yet they mortally hate it under that 
 appearaece : therefore it is no ways safe for a magis- 
 trate, who is to build his dominion upon the fears of 
 men, to build those fears upon a false religion. It is 
 not to be doubted, but the absurdity of Jeroboam's 
 calves made many Israelites turn subjects to Reho- 
 boam's government, that they might be proselytes to 
 his religion. Herein the weakness of the Turkish 
 religion appears, that it urges obedience upon the pro- 
 mise of such absurd rewards, as, that after death they 
 should have palaces, gardens, beautiful women, with 
 all the luxury that could be : as if those things, 
 that were the occasions and incentives of sin in this 
 world, could be the rewards of holiness in the other : 
 besides many other inventions, false and absurd, 
 that are like so many chinks and holes to discover 
 the rottenness of the whole fabric, when God shall 
 VOL. i. H
 
 98 A SERMON 
 
 be pleased to give light to discover and open their 
 reasons to discern them. But you will say, what 
 government more sure and absolute than the Turkish, 
 and yet what religion more false ? Therefore, cer- 
 tainly government may stand sure and strong, be 
 the religion professed never so absurd. I answer, 
 that it may do so indeed by accident, through the 
 strange peculiar temper and gross ignorance of a 
 people ; as we see it happens in the Turks, the best 
 part of whose policy, supposing the absurdity of 
 their religion, is this, that they prohibit schools of 
 learning; for this hinders knowledge and disputes, 
 which such a religion would not bear. But suppose 
 we, that the learning of these western nations were 
 as great there as here, and the Alcoran as common 
 to them as the Bible to us, that they might have 
 free recourse to search and examine the flaws and 
 follies of it ; and withal, that they were of as in- 
 quisitive a temper as we : and who knows, but as 
 there are vicissitudes in the government, so there 
 may happen the same also in the temper of a na- 
 tion ? If this should come to pass, where would be 
 their religion ? And then let every one judge, whe- 
 ther the arcana imperil and religionis would not 
 fall together. They have begun to totter already ; 
 for Mahomet having promised to come and visit his 
 followers, and translate them to paradise after a 
 thousand years, this being expired, many of the 
 Persians began to doubt and smell the cheat, till the 
 Mufti or chief priest told them that it was a mis- 
 take in the figure, and assured them, that upon 
 more diligent survey of the records, he found it two 
 thousand instead of one. When this is expired, 
 perhaps they will not be able to renew the fallacy. I
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 99 
 
 say therefore, that though this government continues 
 firm in the exercise of a false religion, yet this is by 
 accident, through the present genius of the people, 
 which may change ; but this does not prove, but 
 that the nature of such a religion (of which we 
 only now speak) tends to subvert and betray the 
 civil power. Hence Machiavel himself, in his ani- 
 madversions upon Livy, makes it appear, that the 
 weakness of Italy, which was once so strong, was 
 caused by the corrupt practices of the papacy, in de- 
 praving and misusing religion to that purpose, which 
 he, though himself a papist, says, could not have 
 happened, had the Christian religion been kept in 
 its first and native simplicity. Thus much may 
 suffice for the clearing of the first proposition. 
 
 The inferences from hence are two. 
 
 1. If government depends upon religion, then this 
 shows the pestilential design of those, that attempt 
 to disjoin the civil and ecclesiastical interest, setting 
 the latter wholly out of the tuition of the former. 
 But it is clear that the fanaticks know no other 
 step to the magistracy, but through the ruin of the 
 ministry. There is a great analogy between the 
 body natural and politic ; in which the ecclesiastical 
 or spiritual part justly supplies the part of the soul ; 
 and the violent separation of this from the other 
 does as certainly infer death and dissolution, as the 
 disjunction of the body and the soul in the natural ; 
 for when this once departs, it leaves the body of the 
 commonwealth a carcass, noisome, and exposed to be 
 devoured by birds of prey. The ministry will be 
 one day found, according to Christ's word, the salt 
 of the earth, the only thing that keeps societies of 
 men from stench and corruption. These two inte- 
 
 H 2
 
 100 A SERMON 
 
 rests are of that nature, that it is to be feared they 
 cannot be divided, but they will also prove opposite; 
 and not resting in a bare diversity, quickly rise into 
 a contrariety : these two are to the state, what the 
 elements of fire and water to the body, which united 
 compose, separated destroy it. I am not of the pa- 
 pist's opinion, who would make the spiritual above 
 the civil state in power as well as dignity, but rather 
 subject it to the civil ; yet thus much I dare affirm, 
 that the civil, which is superior, is upheld and kept 
 in being by the ecclesiastical and inferior ; as it is in 
 a building, where the upper part is supported by the 
 lower ; the church resembling the foundation, which 
 indeed is the lowest part, but the most considerable. 
 The magistracy cannot so much protect the ministry, 
 but the ministers may do more in serving the magis- 
 trate. A taste of which truth you may take from 
 the holy war, to which how fast and eagerly did 
 men go, when the priest persuaded them, that who- 
 soever died in that expedition was a martyr ? Those 
 that will not be convinced what a help this is to the 
 magistracy, would find how considerable it is, if they 
 should chance to clash ; this would certainly eat out 
 the other. For the magistrate cannot urge obedi- 
 ence upon such potent grounds, as the minister, if so 
 disposed, can urge disobedience. As for instance, 
 if my governor should command me to do a thing, 
 or I must die, or forfeit my estate ; and the minister 
 steps in, and tells me, that I offend God, and ruin 
 my soul, if I obey that command, it is easy to see a 
 greater force in this persuasion from the advantage 
 of its ground. And if divines once begin to curse 
 Meroz, we shall see that Levi can use the sword 
 as well as Simeon ; and although ministers do not
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 101 
 
 handle, yet they can employ it. This shews the 
 imprudence, as well as the danger of the civil magis- 
 trate's exasperating those that can fire men's con- 
 sciences against him, and arm his enemies with reli- 
 gion. For I have read heretofore of some, that having 
 conceived an irreconcileable hatred of the civil magis- 
 trate, prevailed with men so far, that they went to 
 resist him even out of conscience, and a full persua- 
 sion and dread upon their spirits, that, not to do it, 
 a were to desert God, and consequently to incur dam- 
 nation. Now when men's rage is both heightened 
 and sanctified by conscience, the war will be fierce ; 
 for what is done out of conscience, is done with the 
 utmost activity. And then Campanella's speech to 
 the king of Spain will be found true, Religio sem- 
 per vicit, prcesertim armata : which sentence de- 
 serves seriously to be considered by all governors, 
 and timely to be understood, lest it comes to be felt. 
 2. If. the safety of government is founded upon 
 the truth of religion, then this shews the danger of 
 any thing that may make even the true religion 
 suspected to be false. To be false, and to be thought 
 false, is all one in respect of men, who act not ac- 
 cording to truth, but apprehension. As on the con- 
 trary, a false religion, while apprehended true, has 
 the force and efficacy of truth. Now there is nothing 
 more apt to induce men to a suspicion of any reli- 
 gion, than frequent innovation and change : for since 
 the object of religion, God, the subject of 'it, the 
 soul of man, and the business of it, truth, is always 
 one and the same ; variety and novelty is a just 
 presumption of falsity. It argues sickness and dis- 
 temper in the mind, as well as in the body, when a 
 "See Serm. on Prov. xii. 22. 
 
 H 3
 
 102 A SERMON 
 
 man is continually turning and tossing from one side 
 to the other. The wise Romans ever dreaded the 
 least innovation in religion : hence we find the advice 
 of Maecenas to Augustus Caesar, in Dion Cassius, in 
 the 52d book, where he counsels him to detest and 
 persecute all innovators of divine worship, not only 
 as contemners of the gods, but as the most pernicious 
 disturbers of the state : for when men venture to 
 make changes in things sacred, it argues great bold- 
 ness with God, and this naturally imports little belief 
 of him : which if the people once perceive, they 
 will take their creed also, not from the magistrate's 
 laws, but his example. Hence in England, where 
 religion has been still purifying, and hereupon almost 
 always in the fire and the furnace ; atheists and 
 irreligious persons have took no small advantage 
 from our changes. For in king Edward the sixth's 
 time, the divine worship was twice altered in two 
 new liturgies. In the first of queen Mary, the 
 protestant religion was persecuted with fire and 
 fagot, by law and public counsel of the same per- 
 sons, who had so lately established it. Upon the 
 coming in of queen Elizabeth, religion was changed 
 again, and within a few days the public council of 
 the nation made it death for a priest to convert any 
 man to that religion, which before with so much 
 eagerness of zeal had been restored. So that it is ob- 
 served by an author, that in the space of twelve 
 years there were four changes about religion made 
 in England, and that by the public council and au- 
 thority of the realm, which were more than were 
 made by any Christian state throughout the world, 
 so soon one after another, in the space of fifteen 
 hundred years before. Hence it is, that the enemies
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 103 
 
 of God take occasion to blaspheme, and call our re- 
 ligion statism. And now adding to the former, 
 those many changes that have happened since, I am 
 afraid we shall not so easily claw off that name : 
 nor, though we may satisfy our own consciences in 
 what we profess, be able to repel and clear off the 
 objections of the rational world about us, which, not 
 being interested in our changes as we are, will not 
 judge of them as we judge ; but debate them by im- 
 partial reason, by the nature of the thing, the gene- 
 ral practice of the church ; against which, new lights, 
 sudden impulses of the Spirit, extraordinary calls, 
 will be but weak arguments to prove any thing but 
 the madness of those that use them, and that the 
 church must needs wither, being blasted with such 
 inspirations. We see therefore how fatal and ridi- 
 culous innovations in the church are : and indeed 
 when changes are so frequent, it is not properly 
 religion, but fashion. This, I think, we may build 
 upon as a sure ground, that where there is continual 
 change, there is great shew of uncertainty ; and un- 
 certainty in religion is a shrewd motive, if not to 
 deny, yet to doubt of its truth. 
 
 Thus much for the first doctrine. I proceed now to 
 the second, viz.That the next, and most effectual way 
 to destroy religion, is to embase the teachers and dis- 
 pensers of it. In the handling of this I shall shew, 
 
 1. How the dispensers of religion, the ministers 
 of the word, are embased or rendered vile. 
 
 2. How the embasing or vilifying them is a means 
 to destroy religion. 
 
 1. For the first of these, the ministers and dispens- 
 ers of the word are rendered base or vile two ways : 
 (1.) By divesting them of all temporal privileges 
 H 4
 
 104 A SERMON 
 
 and advantages, as inconsistent with their calling. 
 It is strange, since the priest's office heretofore was 
 always splendid, and almost regal, that it is now 
 looked upon as a piece of religion, to make it low 
 and sordid. So that the use of the word minister is 
 brought down to the literal signification of it, a ser- 
 vant : for now to serve and to minister, servile and 
 ministerial, are terms equivalent. But in the Old 
 Testament the same word signifies a priest, and a 
 prince, or chief ruler : hence, though we translate it 
 priest of On, (Gen. xli. 45.) and priest of Midian, 
 (Exod. iii. 1.) and as it is with the people so with 
 the priest, Isa. xxiv. 2. Junius and Tremellius render 
 all these places, not by sacerdos, priest, but by pr&- 
 ses, that is, a prince, or at least a chief counsellor, 
 or minister of state. And it is strange, that the 
 name should be the same, when the nature of the 
 thing is so exceeding different. The like also may 
 be observed in other languages, that the most illus- 
 trious titles are derived from things sacred, and be- 
 longing to the worship of God. 2e/3ao-To? was the 
 title of the Christian Caesars correspondent to the 
 Latin Augustus, and it is derived from the same 
 word that o-e/3a<r/xa, cultus, res sacra, or sacrificium. 
 And it is usual in our language to make sacred an 
 epithet to majesty ; there was a certain royalty in 
 things sacred. Hence the Apostle, who, I think, was 
 no enemy to the simplicity of the gospel, speaks of a 
 royal priesthood, 1 Pet. ii. 9. which shews at least, 
 that there is no contradiction or impiety in those 
 terms. In old time, before the placing this office 
 only in the line of Aaron, the head of the family 
 and the first-born offered sacrifice for the rest ; that 
 is, was their priest. And we know, that such rule
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 105 
 
 and dignity belonged at first to the masters of fami- 
 lies, that they had jus mt< et necis, jurisdiction and 
 power of life and death in their own family ; and 
 from hence was derived the beginning of kingly 
 government : a king being only a civil head, or mas- 
 ter of a poli tic family, the whole people ; so that we 
 see the same was the foundation of the royal and 
 sacerdotal dignity. As for the dignity of this office 
 among the Jews, it is so pregnantly set forth in holy 
 writ, that it is unquestionable. Kings and priests 
 are still mentioned together : Lam. ii. 6. The Lord 
 hath despised in the indignation of his anger the 
 king and the priest. Hos. v. 2. Hear, O priests, 
 and give ear, O house of the king. Deut. xvii. 12. 
 And the man that doth presumptuously, and will 
 not hearken unto the priest that standeth there to 
 minister before the Lord thy God, or unto the 
 judge, e,ven that man shall die. Hence Paul, toge- 
 ther with a blow, received this reprehension, Acts 
 xxiii. 4. Bevilest thou God's high-priest? And 
 Paul in the next verse does not defend himself, by 
 pleading an extraordinary motion of the Spirit, or 
 that he was sent to reform the church, and might 
 therefore lawfully vilify the priesthood and all sa- 
 cred orders ; but in the 5th verse he makes an ex- 
 cuse, and that from ignorance, the only thing that 
 could take away the fault ; namely, that he knew 
 not that he was the high-priest, and subjoins a rea- 
 son which farther advances the truth here defended : 
 for it is written, Thou shalt not speak evil of the 
 ruler of thy people. To holy writ we might add 
 the testimony of Josephus, of next authority to it 
 in things concerning the Jews, who in sundry places 
 of his history sets forth the dignity of the priests ;
 
 106 A SERMON 
 
 and in his second book against Apion the gramma- 
 rian has these words, vavruv TUV a/x^/a^rov/xevwv $iKa- 
 a-rai ol lepeif era^o-av, the priests were constituted 
 judges of all doubtful causes. Hence Justin also in 
 his 36th book has this ; Semper apud Judceos mos 
 fuit, ut eosdem reges et sacerdotes haberent: though 
 this is false, that they were always so, yet it argues, 
 that they were so frequently, and that the distance 
 between them was not great. To the Jews we may 
 join the Egyptians, the first masters of learning and 
 philosophy. Synesius in his 57th epist. having 
 shewn the general practice of antiquity, o naXai ^o- 
 vo$ yvejKe roi/f avTovf lepeaf re KOI Kpirag, gives an in- 
 stance in the Jews and Egyptians, who for many 
 ages VTTO TWV /epcwv e/3a<r/Aey^o-av, had no other kings 
 but priests. Next, we may take a view of the prac- 
 tice of the Romans : Numa Pompilius, that civilized 
 the fierce Romans, is reported in the first book of 
 Livy sometimes to have performed the priest's 
 office himself. Turn sacerdotibus creandis animum 
 adjecit, quanquam ipse plurima sacra obibat ; but 
 when he made priests, he gave them a dignity al- 
 most the same with himself. And this honour con- 
 tinued together with the valour and prudence of 
 that nation : for the success of the Romans did not 
 extirpate their religion ; the college of the priests 
 being in many things exempted even from the juris- 
 diction of the senate, afterwards the supreme power. 
 Hence Juvenal in his 2d Sat. mentions the priesthood 
 of Mars, as one of the most honourable places in 
 Rome. And Jul. Caesar, who was chosen priest in 
 his private condition, thought it not below him to 
 continue the same office when he was created absolute 
 governor of Rome, under the name of perpetual
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 107 
 
 dictator. Add to these the practice of the Gauls 
 mentioned by Caesar in his 6th book de Hello Gal- 
 lico, where he says of the Druids, who were their 
 priests, that they did judge de omnibus fere contro- 
 versiis publicis privatisque. See also Homer in the 
 1st book of his Iliad representing Chryses priest of 
 Apollo, with his golden sceptre, as well as his golden 
 censer. But why have I produced all these examples 
 of the heathens? Is it to make these a ground of 
 our imitation? No, but to shew that the giving 
 honour to the priesthood was a custom universal 
 amongst all civilized nations. And whatsoever is 
 universal is also natural, as not being founded upon 
 compact, or the particular humours of men, but 
 flowing from the native results of reason: and that 
 which is natural neither does nor can oppose reli- 
 gion. But you will say, this concerns not us, who 
 have an express rule and word revealed. Christ was 
 himself poor and despised, and withal has instituted 
 such a ministry. To the first part of this plea I 
 answer, that Christ came to suffer, yet the sufferings 
 and miseries of Christ do not oblige all Christians to 
 undertake the like. For the second, that the mi- 
 nistry of Christ was low and despised by his institu- 
 tion, I utterly deny. It was so, indeed, by the ma- 
 lice and persecution of the heathen princes ; but 
 what does this argue or infer for a low, dejected 
 ministry in a flourishing state, which professes to 
 encourage Christianity ? But to dash this cavil, read 
 but the practice of Christian emperors and kings 
 all along, down from the time of Constantine, in 
 what respect, what honour and splendor they treated 
 the ministers ; and then let our adversaries pro- 
 duce their puny, pitiful arguments for the contrary,
 
 108 A SERMON 
 
 against the general, clear, undoubted vogue and 
 current of all antiquity. As for two or three little 
 countries about us, the learned and impartial will 
 not value their practice ; in one of which places the 
 minister has been seen, for mere want, to mend 
 shoes on the Saturday, and been heard to preach on 
 the Sunday. In the other place, stating the several 
 orders of the citizens, they place their ministers 
 after their apothecaries ; that is, the physician of the 
 soul after the drugster of the body : a fit practice for 
 those, who, if they were to rank things as well as 
 persons, would place their religion after their trade. 
 
 And thus much concerning the first way of de- 
 basing the ministers and ministry. 
 
 (2.) The second way is by admitting ignorant, 
 sordid, illiterate persons to this function. This is 
 to give the royal stamp to a piece of lead. I con- 
 fess, God has no need of any man's parts or learning; 
 but certainly then, he has much less need of his 
 ignorance and ill behaviour. It is a sad thing, 
 when all other employments shall empty themselves 
 into the ministry : when men shall repair to it, not 
 for preferment, but refuge; like malefactors flying 
 to the altar, only to save their lives ; or like those 
 of Eli's race, (1 Sam. ii. 36.) that should come 
 crouching, and seek to be put into the priest's office 
 that they might eat a piece of bread. Heretofore 
 there was required splendor of parentage to recom- 
 mend any one to the priesthood, as Josephus wit- 
 nesses in a treatise which he wrote of his own life ; 
 where he says, to have right to deal in things sa- 
 cred, was, amongst them, accounted an argument of a 
 noble and illustrious descent. God would not ac- 
 cept the offals of other professions. Doubtless many
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 109 
 
 rejected Christ upon this thought, that he was the 
 carpenter's son, who would have embraced him, had 
 they known him to have been the son of David. The 
 preferring undeserving persons to this great service 
 was eminently Jeroboam's sin, and how Jeroboam's 
 practice and offence has been continued amongst us 
 in another guise, is not unknown : for has not learn- 
 ing unqualified men for approbation to the ministry? 
 have not parts and abilities been reputed enemies 
 to grace, and qualities no ways ministerial? while 
 friends, faction, well-meaning, and little understand- 
 ing have been accomplishments beyond study and 
 the university ; and to falsify a story of conversion, 
 beyond pertinent answers and clear resolutions to 
 the hardest and most concerning questions. So that 
 matters have been brought to this pass, that if a man 
 amongst his sons had any blind, or disfigured, he 
 laid him aside for the ministry ; and such an one 
 was presently approved, as having a mortified coun- 
 tenance. In short, it was a fiery furnace, which 
 often approved dross, and rejected gold. But thanks 
 be to God, those spiritual wickednesses are now 
 discharged from their high places. Hence it was, 
 that many rushed into the ministry, as being the 
 only calling that they could profess without serving 
 an apprenticeship. Hence also we had those that 
 could preach sermons, but not defend them. The 
 reason of which is clear, because the works and 
 writings of learned men might be borrowed, but not 
 the abilities. Had indeed the old Levitical hierar- 
 chy still continued, in which it was part of the mi- 
 nisterial office to flay the sacrifices, to cleanse the 
 vessels, to scour the flesh-forks, to sweep the temple, 
 and carry the filth and rubbish to the brook Kidron,
 
 110 A SERMON 
 
 no persons living had been fitter for the ministry, 
 and to serve in this nature at the altar. But since 
 it is made a labour of the mind ; as to inform men's 
 judgments, and move their affections, to resolve dif- 
 ficult places of scripture, to decide and clear off con- 
 troversies ; I cannot see how to be a butcher, sca- 
 venger, or any other such trade, does at all qualify 
 or prepare men for this work. But as unfit as they 
 were, yet to clear a way for such into the ministry, 
 we have had almost all sermons full of gibes and 
 scoffs at human learning. Away with vain philo- 
 sophy, with the disputer of this world, and the en- 
 ticing words of man! s wisdom, and set up the fool- 
 ishness of preaching, the simplicity of the gospel: 
 thus divinity has been brought in upon the ruins of 
 humanity; by forcing the words of the scripture 
 from the sense, and then haling them to the worst 
 of drudgeries, to set a jus divinum upon ignorance 
 and imperfection, and recommend natural weakness 
 for supernatural grace. Hereupon the ignorant have 
 took heart to venture upon this great calling, and 
 instead of cutting their way to it, according to the 
 usual course, through the knowledge of the tongues, 
 the study of philosophy, school divinity, the fathers 
 and councils, they have taken another and a shorter 
 cut; and having read perhaps a treatise or two upon 
 the Heart, the bruised Reed, the Crumbs of Com- 
 fort, Wollebius in English, and some other little au- 
 thors, the usual furniture of old women's closets, 
 they have set forth as accomplished divines, and 
 forthwith they present themselves to the service; 
 and there have not been wanting Jeroboams as will- 
 ing to consecrate and receive them, as they to offer 
 themselves. And this has been one of the most
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. Ill 
 
 fatal and almost irrecoverable blows that has been 
 given to the ministry. 
 
 And this may suffice concerning the second way 
 of embasing God's ministers ; namely, by intrusting 
 the ministry with raw, unlearned, ill-bred persons ; 
 so that what Solomon speaks of a proverb in the 
 mouth of a fool, the same may be said of the minis- 
 try vested in them, that it is like a pear I in a s wines 
 snout. 
 
 2. I proceed now to the second thing proposed in 
 the discussion of this doctrine, which is, to shew 
 how the embasing of the ministers tends to the de- 
 struction of religion. 
 
 This it does two ways. 
 
 (1.) Because it brings them under exceeding scorn 
 and contempt; and then, let none think religion 
 itself secure : for the vulgar have not such logical 
 heads, as to be able to abstract such subtile concep- 
 tions a"s to separate the man from the minister, or to 
 consider the same person under a double capacity, 
 and so honour him as a divine, while they despise 
 him as poor. But suppose they could, yet actions 
 cannot distinguish, as conceptions do ; and therefore 
 every act of contempt strikes at both, and unavoid- 
 ably wounds the ministry through the sides of the 
 minister. And we must know, that the least de- 
 gree of contempt weakens religion, because it is ab- 
 solutely contrary to the nature of it ; religion pro- 
 perly consisting in a reverential esteem of things 
 sacred. Now that which in any measure weakens 
 religion, will at length destroy it : for the weaken- 
 ing of a thing is only a partial destruction of it. 
 Poverty and meanness of condition expose the wisest 
 to scorn, it being natural for men to place their es-
 
 112 A SERMON 
 
 teem rather upon things great than good ; and the 
 poet observes, that this infelix paupertas has no- 
 thing in it more intolerable than this, that it ren- 
 ders men ridiculous. And then, how easy and na- 
 tural it is for contempt to pass from the person to 
 the office, from him that speaks, to the thing that 
 he speaks of, experience proves: counsel being seldom 
 valued so much for the truth of the thing, as the 
 credit of him that gives it. Observe an excellent 
 passage to this purpose in Eccles. ix. 14, 15. We 
 have an account of a little city, with few men in it, 
 besieged by a great and potent king, and in the 15th 
 verse, we read, that there was found in it a poor 
 wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered, the city. 
 A worthy service indeed, and certainly we may ex- 
 pect that some honourable recompence should fol- 
 low it ; a deliverer of his country, and that in such 
 distress, could not but be advanced : but we find a 
 contrary event in the next words of the same verse, 
 yet none remembered that same poor man. Why, 
 what should be the reason ? Was he not a man of 
 parts and wisdom ? and is not wisdom honourable? 
 Yes, but he was poor. But was he not also success- 
 ful, as well as wise ? True ; but still he was poor : 
 and once grant this, and you cannot keep off that 
 unavoidable sequel in the next verse, the poor 
 man's wisdom is despised, and his words are not 
 heard. We may believe it upon Solomon's word, 
 who was rich as well as wise, and therefore knew 
 the force of both : and probably, had it not been for 
 his riches, the queen of Sheba would never have 
 come so far only to have heard his wisdom. Observe 
 her behaviour when she came : though upon the 
 hearing of Solomon's wisdom, and the resolution of
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 113 
 
 her hard questions, she expressed a just admiration ; 
 yet when Solomon afterwards shewed her his palace, 
 his treasures, and the temple which he had built, 
 1 Kings x. 5. it is said, there was no more spirit in 
 her. What was the cause of this? Certainly, the 
 magnificence, the pomp and splendor of such a 
 structure : it struck her into an ecstasy beyond his 
 wise answers. She esteemed this as much above 
 his wisdom, as astonishment is beyond bare admira- 
 tion : she admired his wisdom, but she adored his 
 magnificence. So apt is the mind, even of wise 
 persons, to be surprised with the superficies, or cir- 
 cumstance of things, and value or undervalue spi- 
 rituals, according to the manner of their external 
 appearance. When circumstances fail, the substance 
 seldom long survives : clothes are no part of the 
 body ; yet take away clothes, and the body will die. 
 Livy observes of Romulus, that being to give laws 
 to his new Romans, he found no better way to pro- 
 cure an esteem and reverence to them, than by first 
 procuring it to himself by splendor of habit and re- 
 tinue, and other signs of royalty. And the wise 
 Numa, his successor, took the same course to enforce 
 his religious laws, namely, by giving the same pomp 
 to the priest, who was to dispense them. Sacerdo- 
 tem creavit, insignique eum veste, et curuli regia 
 sella adornavit. That is, he adorned him with a 
 rich robe, and a royal chair of state. And in our 
 judicatures, take away the trumpet, the scarlet, the 
 attendance, and the lordship, which would be to 
 make justice naked as well as blind, and the law 
 would lose much of its terror, and consequently of 
 its authority. Let the minister be abject and low, 
 his interest inconsiderable, the word will suffer for 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 A SERMON 
 
 his sake: the message will still find reception ac- 
 cording to the dignity of the messenger. Imagine 
 an ambassador presenting himself in a poor frieze 
 jerkin and tattered clothes, certainly he would have 
 but small audience, his embassy would speed rather 
 according to the weakness of him that brought, than 
 the majesty of him that sent it. It will fare alike with 
 the ambassadors of Christ, the people will give them 
 audience according to their presence. A notable 
 example of which we have in the behaviour of some 
 to Paul himself, 1 Cor. x. 10. Hence in the Jewish 
 church it was cautiously provided in the law, that 
 none that was blind or lame, or had any remarkable 
 defect in his body, was capable of the priestly office ; 
 because these things naturally make a person con- 
 temned, and this presently reflects upon the func- 
 tion. This therefore is the first way by which the 
 low despised condition of the ministers tends to the 
 destruction of the ministry and religion; namely, 
 because it subjects their persons to scorn, and con- 
 sequently their calling; and it is not imaginable 
 that men will be brought to obey what they cannot 
 esteem. 
 
 (2.) The second way by which it tends to the 
 ruin of the ministry is, because it discourages men 
 of fit parts and abilities from undertaking it. And 
 certain it is, that as the calling dignifies the man, 
 so the man much more advances his calling : as a 
 garment, though it warms the body, has a return 
 with an advantage, being much more warmed by it. 
 And how often a good cause may miscarry without 
 a wise manager, and the faith for want of a de- 
 fender, is, or at least may be known. It is not the 
 truth of an assertion, but the skill of the disputant,
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 115 
 
 that keeps off a baffle ; not the justness of a cause, 
 but the valour of the soldiers, that must win the field: 
 when a learned Paul was converted, and undertook 
 the ministry, it stopped the mouths of those that said, 
 None but poor weak fishermen preached Christian- 
 ity ; and so his learning silenced the scandal, as well 
 as strengthened the church. Religion, placed in a 
 soul of exquisite knowledge and abilities, as in a 
 castle, finds not only habitation, but defence. And 
 what a learned foreign a divine said of the English 
 preaching, may be said of all, Plus est in artifice 
 quam in arte. So much of moment is there in the 
 professors of any thing, to depress or raise the pro- 
 fession. What is it that kept the church of Rome 
 strong, athletic, and flourishing for so many centu- 
 ries, but the happy succession of the choicest wits 
 engaged to her service by suitable preferments? 
 And what strength, do we think, would that give 
 to the-true religion, that is able thus to establish a 
 false? Religion in a great measure stands or falls 
 according to the abilities of those that assert it. 
 And if, as some observe, men's desires are usually as 
 large as their abilities, what course have we took to 
 allure the former, that we might engage the latter 
 to our assistance? But we have took all ways to 
 affright and discourage scholars from looking to- 
 wards this sacred calling : for will men lay out their 
 wit and judgment upon that employment, for the 
 undertaking of which both will be questioned ? 
 Would men, not long since, have spent toilsome 
 days and watchful nights, in the laborious quest of 
 knowledge preparative to this work, at length to 
 
 a Caspar Streso. 
 I 2
 
 116 A SERMON 
 
 come and dance attendance for approbation, upon a 
 junto of petty tyrants, acted by party and prejudice, 
 who denied fitness from learning, and grace from 
 morality? Will a man exhaust his livelihood upon 
 books, and his health, the best part of his life, upon 
 study, to be at length thrust into a poor village, 
 where he shall have his due precariously, and en- 
 treat for his own ; and when he has it, live poorly 
 and contemptibly upon it, while the same or less 
 labour, bestowed upon any other calling, would 
 bring not only comfort but splendor, not only 
 maintenance but abundance? It is, I confess, the 
 duty of ministers to endure this condition ; but nei- 
 ther religion nor reason does oblige either them to 
 approve, or others to choose it. Doubtless, parents 
 will not throw away the towardness of a child, and 
 the expense of education, upon a profession, the la- 
 bour of which is increased, and the rewards of 
 which are vanished: to condemn promising, lively 
 parts to contempt and penury in a despised calling, 
 what is it else but the casting of a Moses into the 
 mud, or offering a son upon the altar ; and instead 
 of a priest, to make him a sacrifice? Neither let any 
 here reply, that it becomes not a ministerial spirit 
 to undertake such a calling for reward; for they 
 must know, that it is one thing to undertake it for a 
 reward, and not to be willing to undertake it with- 
 out one. It is one thing to perform good works 
 only that we may receive the recompence of them 
 in heaven, and another thing not to be willing to 
 follow Christ and forsake the world, if there were 
 no such recompence. But besides, suppose it were 
 the duty of scholars to choose this calling in the 
 midst of all its discouragements ; yet a prudent go-
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 117 
 
 vernor, who knows it to be his wisdom as well as 
 his duty, to take the best course to advance religion, 
 will not consider men's duty, but their practice; not 
 what they ought to do, but what they use to do : 
 and therefore draw over the best qualified to his ser- 
 vice, by such ways as are most apt to persuade and 
 induce men. Solomon built his temple with the 
 tallest cedars : and surely, when God refused the 
 defective and the maimed for sacrifice, we cannot 
 think that he requires them for the priesthood. 
 When learning, abilities, and what is excellent in 
 the world, forsake the church, we may easily foretell 
 its ruin, without the gift of prophecy. And when 
 ignorance succeeds in the place of learning, weak- 
 ness in the room of judgment, we may be sure 
 heresy and confusion will quickly come in the room 
 of religion : for undoubtedly there is no way so ef- 
 fectual to betray the truth, as to procure it a weak 
 defender. 
 
 Well now, instead -of raising any particular uses 
 from the point that has been delivered, let us make 
 a brief recapitulation of the whole. Government, 
 we see, depends upon religion, and religion upon the 
 encouragement of those that are to dispense and 
 assert it. For the further evidence of which truths, 
 we need not travel beyond our own borders ; but 
 leave it to every one impartially to judge, whether 
 from the very first day that our religion was un- 
 settled, and church government flung out of doors, 
 the civil government has ever been able to fix upon 
 a sure foundation. We have been changing even 
 to a proverb. The indignation of heaven has been 
 rolling and turning us from one form to another, 
 till at length such a giddiness seized upon govern- 
 
 13
 
 118 A SERMON 
 
 ment, that it fell into the very dregs of secta- 
 ries, who threatened an equal ruin both to minister 
 and magistrate ; and how the state has sympathized 
 with the church is apparent. For have not our 
 princes as well as our priests been of the lowest of 
 the people? Have not cobblers, draymen, mechanics, 
 governed, as well as preached ? Nay, have not they 
 by preaching come to govern? Was ever that of So- 
 lomon more verified, that servants have rid, while 
 princes and nobles have gone on foot f But God 
 has been pleased by a miracle of mercy to dissipate 
 this confusion and chaos, and to give us some open- 
 ings, some dawnings of liberty and settlement. But 
 now, let not those who are to rebuild our Jerusalem 
 think that the temple must be built last : for if there 
 be such a thing as a God, and religion, as whether 
 men believe it or no, they will one day find and 
 feel, assuredly he will stop our liberty, till we restore 
 him his worship. Besides, it is a senseless thing in 
 reason, to think that one of these interests can stand 
 without the other, when in the very order of natu- 
 ral causes, government is preserved by religion. But 
 to return to Jeroboam with whom we first began. 
 He laid the foundation of his government in de- 
 stroying, though doubtless he coloured it with the 
 name of reforming God's worship; but see the issue. 
 Consider him cursed by God, maintaining his usurped 
 title by continual vexatious wars against the kings 
 of Judah : smote in his posterity, which was made 
 like the dung upon the face of the earth, as low and 
 vile as those priests whom he had employed : consi- 
 der him branded, and made odious to all after-ages : 
 and now, when his kingdom and glory was at an 
 end, and he and his posterity rotting under ground,
 
 ON 1 KINGS XIII. 33, 34. 119 
 
 and his name stinking above it, judge what a wor- 
 thy prize he made in getting of a kingdom, by de- 
 stroying the church. Wherefore the sum of all is 
 this ; to advise and desire those whom it may con- 
 cern, to consider Jeroboam's punishment, and then 
 they will have little heart to Jeroboam's sin. 
 
 4
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT LAMBETH CHAPEL 
 
 ON THE 25th OF NOVEMBER, 1666. 
 
 Upon the Consecration of the Right Reverend Father in God 
 
 DR. JOHN DOLBEN, 
 
 LORD BISHOP OF ROCHESTER. 
 
 TO THE KIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD 
 
 JOHN, LORD BISHOP OF ROCHESTER, 
 
 DEAN OF THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF WESTMINSTER, 
 AND CLERK OF THE CLOSET TO HIS MAJESTY. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 -L HOUGH the interposal of my Lord of Canterbury's com- 
 mand for the publication of this mean discourse, may seem 
 so far to determine, as even to take away my choice ; yet I 
 must own it to the world, that it is solely and entirely my 
 own inclination, seconded by my obligations to your Lord- 
 ship, that makes this, that was so lately an humble attend- 
 ant upon your Lordship's consecration, now ambitious to 
 consecrate itself with your Lordship's name. It was my ho- 
 nour to have lived in the same college with your Lordship, 
 and now to belong to the same cathedral, where at present 
 you credit the church as much by your government, as you 
 did the school formerly by your wit. Your Lordship even 
 then grew up into a constant superiority above others ; and 
 all your after-greatness seems but a paraphrase upon those 
 promising beginnings : for whatsoever you are, or shall be,
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 has been but an easy prognostic from what you were. It 
 is your Lordship's unhappiness to be cast upon an age in 
 which the church is in its wane ; and if you do not those 
 glorious things that our English prelates did two or three 
 hundred years since, it is not because your Lordship is at all 
 less than they, but because the times are worse. Witness 
 those magnificent buildings in Christ Church in Oxford, be- 
 gun and carried on by your Lordship ; when by your place 
 you governed, and by your wisdom increased the treasure 
 of that college : and, which must eternally set your fame 
 above the reach of envy and detraction, these great struc- 
 tures you attempted at a time when you returned poor and 
 bare, to a college as bare, after a long persecution, and be- 
 fore you had laid so much as one stone in the repairs of 
 your own fortunes : by which incomparably high and gene- 
 rous undertaking, you have shewn the world how fit a person 
 you were to build upon Wolsey's foundation: a prelate 
 whose great designs you imitate, and whose mind you equal. 
 Briefly, that Christ Church stands so high above ground, 
 and that the church of Westminster lies not flat upon it, is 
 your Lordship's commendation. And therefore your Lord- 
 ship is trot behindhand with the church, paying it as much 
 credit and support, as you receive from it; for you owe 
 your promotion to your merit, and, I am sure, your merit 
 to yourself. All men court you, not so much because a 
 great person, as a public good. For, as a friend, there is 
 none so hearty, so nobly warm and active to make good all 
 the offices of that endearing relation ; as a patron, none 
 more able to oblige and reward your dependents, and, 
 which is the crowning ornament of power, none more will- 
 ing. And lastly, as a diocesan, you are like even to outdo 
 yourself in all other capacities ; and, in a word, to exemplify 
 and realize every Avord of the following discourse : which is 
 here most humbly and gratefully presented to your Lord- 
 ship, by 
 
 Your Lordship's 
 
 From St. James's, most obliged servant, 
 
 D^ 3, 1666. ROBERT SOUTH.
 
 TITUS ii. 15. 
 
 These things speak and exhort, and rebuke with all au- 
 thority. Let no man despise thee. 
 
 IT may possibly be expected, that the very taking 
 of my text out of this epistle to Titus, may engage 
 me in a discourse about the nature, original, and di- 
 vine right of episcopacy ; and if it should, it were no 
 more than what some of the greatest and the learn- 
 edest persons in the world (when men served truth 
 instead of design) had done before: for I must pro- 
 fess, that I cannot look upon Titus as so far unbi- 
 shoped yet, but that he still exhibits to us all the 
 essentials of that jurisdiction, which to this day is 
 claimed for episcopal. We are told in the fifth verse 
 of the first chapter, that he was left in Crete to set 
 things in order, and to ordain elders in every city; 
 which text one would think were sufficiently clear 
 and full, and too big with evidence to be perverted : 
 but when we have seen rebellion commented out of 
 the thirteenth of the Romans ; and since there are 
 few things but admit of gloss and probability, and 
 consequently may be expounded as well as disputed 
 on both sides ; it is no such wonder, that some would 
 bear the world in hand, that the apostle's design and 
 meaning is for presbytery, though his words are all 
 the time for episcopacy : no wonder, I say, to us at 
 least, who have conversed with too many strange 
 unparalleled actions, occurrences, and events, now 
 to wonder at any thing : wonder is from surprise ; 
 and surprise ceases upon experience. 
 
 I am not so much a friend to the stale starched
 
 A SERMON ON TITUS II. 15. 123 
 
 formality of preambles, as to detain so great an au- 
 dience with any previous discourse extrinsick to the 
 subject matter and design of the text ; and therefore 
 I shall fall directly upon the words, which run in 
 the form of an exhortation, though in appearance a 
 very strange one ; for the matter of an exhortation 
 should be something naturally in the power of him 
 to whom the exhortation is directed. For no man 
 exhorts another to be strong, beautiful, witty, or the 
 like ; these are the felicities of some conditions, the 
 object of more wishes, but the effects of no man's 
 choice. Nor seems there any greater reason for the 
 apostle's exhorting Titus, that no man should despise 
 him ; for how could another man's action be his 
 duty ? Was it in his power that men should not be 
 wicked and injurious ; and if such persons would de- 
 spise him, could any thing pass an obligation upon 
 him not to be despised? No, this cannot be the 
 meaning 1 ; and therefore it is clear that the exhorta- 
 tion lies not against the action itself, which is only 
 in the despiser's power, but against the just occasion 
 of it, which is in the will and power of him that is 
 despised : it was not in Titus's power that men 
 should not despise him, but it was in his power to 
 bereave them of all just cause of doing so ; it was 
 not in his power not to be derided, but it was in his 
 power not to be ridiculous. 
 
 In all this epistle it is evident that St. Paul looks 
 upon Titus as advanced to the dignity of a prime 
 ruler of the church, and intrusted with a large dio- 
 cese, containing many particular churches under the 
 immediate government of their respective elders ; 
 and those deriving authority from his ordination, as 
 was specified in the fifth verse of the first chapter.
 
 124 A SERMON 
 
 And now looking upon Titus under this qualifica- 
 tion, he addresses a long advice and instruction to 
 him, for the discharge of so important a function, all 
 along the first and second chapters ; but sums up all 
 in the last verse, which is the subject of the ensuing 
 discourse, and contains in it these two things. 
 
 I. An account of the duties of his place or office. 
 
 II. Of the means to facilitate and make effectual 
 their execution. 
 
 I. The duties of his place were two. 1. To teach. 
 2. To rule. Both comprised in these words ; These 
 things speak and exhort, and rebuke with all au- 
 thority. 
 
 And then the means, the only means to make him 
 successful, bright, and victorious in the performance 
 of these great works, was to be above contempt, to 
 shine like the Baptist, with a clear and a triumphant 
 light. In a word, it is every bishop's duty to teach 
 and to govern ; and his way to do it is not to be de- 
 spised. 
 
 We will discourse of each respectively in their 
 order. 
 
 1. And first, for the first branch of the great work 
 incumbent upon a church ruler, which is to teach. 
 A work that none is too great or too high for ; it is 
 a work of charity, and charity is the work of heaven, 
 which is always laying itself out upon the needy and 
 the impotent : nay, and it is a work of the highest 
 and the noblest charity; for he that teacheth an- 
 other, gives an alms to his soul ; he clothes the na- 
 kedness of his understanding, and relieves the wants 
 of his impoverished reason : he indeed that governs 
 well, leads the blind ; but he that teaches, gives him 
 eyes : and it is a glorious thing to have been the re-
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 125 
 
 pairer of a decayed intellect, and a sub-worker to 
 grace, in freeing it from some of the inconveniences 
 of original sin. It is a benefaction that gives a man 
 a kind of prerogative; for even in the common dia- 
 lect of the world every teacher is called a master : it 
 is the property of instruction to descend, and upon 
 that very account, it supposes him that instructs, the 
 superior, or at least makes him so. 
 
 To say a man is advanced too high to condescend 
 to teach the ignorant, is as much as to say, that the 
 sun is in too high a place to shine upon what is be* 
 low it. The sun is said to rule the day, and the 
 moon to rule the night : but do they not rule them 
 only by enlightening them? Doctrine is that, that 
 must prepare men for discipline ; and men never go 
 on so cheerfully, as when they see where they go. 
 
 Nor is the dulness of the scholar to extinguish, 
 but rather to inflame the charity of the teacher : for 
 since it is not in men as in vessels, that the smallest 
 capacity is the soonest filled ; where the labour is 
 doubled, the value of the work is enhanced ; for it 
 is a sowing where a man never expects to reap any 
 thing but the comfort and conscience of having done 
 virtuously. And yet we know moreover, that God 
 sometimes converts even the dull and the slow, turn- 
 ing very stones into sons of Abraham; where besides 
 that the difficulty of the conquest advances the tro- 
 phy of the conqueror; it often falls out, that the 
 backward learner makes amends another way, re- 
 compensing sure for sudden, expiating his want of 
 docility with a deeper and a more rooted retention : 
 which alone were argument sufficient to enforce the 
 apostle's injunction of being instant in season and 
 out of season,, even upon the highest and most ex-
 
 126 A SERMON 
 
 alted ruler in the church. He that sits in Moses's 
 chair, sits there to instruct, as well as to rule : and 
 a general's office engages him to lead, as well as to 
 command his army. In the first of Ecclesiastes, 
 Solomon represents himself both as preacher and 
 king of Israel : and every soul that a bishop gains 
 is a new accession to the extent of his power ; he 
 preaches his jurisdiction wider, and enlarges his spi- 
 ritual diocese, as he enlarges men's apprehensions. 
 
 The teaching part indeed of a Romish bishop is 
 easy enough, whose grand business is only to teach 
 men to be ignorant, to instruct them how to know 
 nothing, or, which is all one, to know upon trust, to 
 believe implicitly, and in a word, to see with other 
 men's eyes, till they come to be lost in their own 
 souls. But our religion is a religion that dares to 
 be understood ; that offers itself to the search of the 
 inquisitive, to the inspection of the severest and the 
 most awakened reason : for being secure of her sub- 
 stantial truth and purity, she knows, that for her to 
 be seen and looked into, is to be embraced and ad- 
 mired : as there needs no greater argument for men 
 to love the light, than to see it. It needs no legends, 
 no service in an unknown tongue, no inquisition 
 against scripture, no purging out the heart and 
 sense of authors, no altering or bribing the voice of 
 antiquity to speak for it ; it needs none of all these 
 laborious artifices of ignorance; none of all these 
 cloaks and coverings. The Romish faith indeed 
 must be covered, or it cannot be kept warm, and 
 their clergy deal with their religion as with a great 
 crime ; if it is discovered, they are undone. But 
 there is no bishop of the church of England, but ac- 
 counts it his interest, as well as his duty, to comply
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 127 
 
 with this precept of the apostle Paul to Titus, These 
 things teach and exhort. 
 
 Now this teaching may be effected two ways : 
 
 (1.) Immediately by himself. 
 
 (2.) Mediately by others. 
 
 And first, immediately by himself. Where God 
 gives a talent, the episcopal robe can be no napkin 
 to hide it in. Change of condition changes not the 
 abilities of nature, but makes them more illustrious 
 in their exercise ; and the episcopal dignity added to 
 a good preaching faculty, is like the erecting of a 
 stately fountain upon a spring, which still, for all 
 that, remains as much a spring as it was before, and 
 flows as plentifully, only it flows with the circum- 
 stance of greater state and magnificence. Height of 
 place is intended only to stamp the endowments of 
 a private condition with lustre and authority : and, 
 thanks be to God, neither the church's professed 
 enemies, nor her pretended friends, have any cause 
 to asperse her in this respect, as having over her 
 such bishops as are able to silence the factious, no 
 less by their preaching than by their authority. 
 
 But then, on the other hand, let me add also, that 
 this is not so absolutely necessary, as to be of the 
 vital constitution of this function. He may teach 
 his diocese, who ceases to be able to preach to it : 
 for he may do it by appointing teachers, and by a 
 vigilant exacting from them the care and the in- 
 struction of their respective flocks. He is the spi- 
 ritual father of his diocese ; and a father may see 
 his children taught, though he himself does not turn 
 schoolmaster. It is not the gift of every person nor 
 of every age, to harangue the multitude, to voice it 
 high and loud, et dominari in concionibus. And
 
 123 A SERMON 
 
 since experience fits for government, and age usu- 
 ally brings experience, perhaps the most governing 
 years are the least preaching years. 
 
 (2.) In the second place therefore, there is a teach- 
 ing mediately, by the subordinate, ministration of 
 others ; in which, since the action of the instru- 
 mental agent is, upon all grounds of reason, to be 
 ascribed to the principal, he, who ordains and fur- 
 nishes all his churches with able preachers, is an 
 universal teacher ; he instructs where he cannot be 
 present; he speaks in every mouth of his diocese; and 
 every congregation of it every Sunday feels his in- 
 fluence, though it hears not his voice. That master 
 deprives not his family of their food, who orders a 
 faithful steward to dispense it. Teaching is not a 
 flow of words, nor the draining of an hour glass, 
 but an effectual procuring, that a man comes to 
 know something which he knew not before, or to 
 know it better. And therefore eloquence and ability 
 of speech is to a church governor^ as Tully said it 
 was to a philosopher; Si offer atur, non repudianda ; 
 si absit, non magnopere desideranda : and to find 
 fault with such an one for not being a popular 
 speaker, is to blame a painter for not being a good 
 musician. 
 
 To teach indeed must be confessed his duty, but 
 then there is a teaching by example, by authority, 
 by restraining seducers, and so removing the hin- 
 derances of knowledge. And a bishop does his 
 church, his prince and country, more service by rul- 
 ing other men's tongues, than he can by employing 
 his own. And thus much for the first branch of 
 the great work belonging to a pastor of the church, 
 wliich was to teach and to exhort.
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 129 
 
 2. The second is to rule, expressed in these words ; 
 rebuke with all authority. By which I doubt not 
 but the apostle principally intends church censures ; 
 and so the words are a metonymy of the part for 
 the whole, giving an instance in ecclesiastical cen- 
 sures, instead of all other ecclesiastical jurisdiction. 
 A jurisdiction, which in the essentials of it is as old 
 as Christianity, and even in those circumstantial ad- 
 ditions of secular encouragement, with which the 
 piety and wisdom of Christian princes always thought 
 necessary to support it against the encroachments of 
 the injurious world, much older and more venerable 
 than any constitution that has divested the church 
 of it. 
 
 But to speak directly to the thing before us ; we 
 see here the great apostle employing the utmost of 
 his authority in commanding Titus to use his : and 
 what he said to him, he says to every Christian bi- 
 shop after him, rebuke with all authority. This au- 
 thority is a spiritual sw r ord put into the hands of 
 every church ruler ; and God put not this sword 
 into his hands, with an intent that he should keep 
 it there for no other purpose, but only for fashion 
 sake, as men use to wear one by their sides. Go- 
 vernment is an art above the attainment of an ordi- 
 nary genius, and requires a wider, a larger, and a 
 more comprehending soul than God has put into 
 .every body. The spirit which animates and acts 
 the universe, is a spirit of government; and that 
 ruler that is possessed of it, is the substitute and 
 vicegerent of Providence, whether in church or state: 
 every bishop is God's curate. Now the nature of 
 government contains in it these three parts : 
 
 VOL. i. K
 
 130 A SERMON 
 
 (1.) An exaction of duty from the persons placed 
 under it. 
 
 (2.) A protection of them in the performance of 
 their duty. 
 
 (3.) Coercion and animadversion upon such as 
 neglect it. All which are, in their proportion, in- 
 gredients of that government which we call eccle- 
 siastical. 
 
 (1.) And first, it implies exaction of duty from 
 the persons placed under it : for it is both to be 
 confessed and lamented, that men are not so ready 
 to offer it, where it is not exacted : otherwise, what 
 means the service of the church so imperfectly and 
 by halves read over, and that by many who profess 
 a conformity to the rules of the church ? What 
 makes them mince and mangle that in their practice, 
 which they could swallow whole in their subscrip- 
 tions ? Why are the public prayers curtailed and 
 left out, prayers composed with sobriety, and en- 
 joined with authority, only to make the more room 
 for a long, crude, impertinent, upstart harangue be- 
 fore the sermon ? 
 
 Such persons seem to conform (the signification 
 of which word they never make good) only that 
 they may despise the church's injunctions under 
 the church's wing, and contemn authority within the 
 protection of the laws. Duty is but, another English 
 word for debt; and God knows, that it is well if 
 men pay their debts when they are called upon. 
 But if governors do not remind men of, and call 
 them to obedience, they will find, that it will never 
 come as a free-will offering, no not from many who 
 even serve at the altar.
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 131 
 
 (2.) Government imports a protection and encou- 
 ragement of the persons under it, in the discharge 
 of their duty. It is not for a magistrate to frown 
 upon, and browbeat those who are hearty and exact 
 in the management of their ministry ; and with a 
 grave insignificant nod, to call a well regulated and 
 resolved zeal, want of prudence and moderation. 
 Such discouraging of men in the ways of an active 
 conformity to the church's rules is that, which will 
 crack the sinews of government ; for it weakens the 
 hands and damps the spirits of the obedient. And 
 if only scorn and rebuke shall attend men for as- 
 serting the church's dignity, and taxing the murder 
 of kings, and the like ; many will choose rather to 
 neglect their duty safely and creditably, than to get 
 a broken pate in the church's service, only to be 
 rewarded with that which shall break their hearts 
 too. 
 
 (3.) The third thing implied in government is 
 coercion, and animadversion upon such as neglect 
 their duty : without which coercive power all go- 
 vernment is but toothless and precarious, and does 
 not so much command as beg obedience. Nothing, 
 I confess, is more becoming a Christian, of what de- 
 gree soever, than meekness, candour, and condescen- 
 sion ; but they are virtues that have their proper 
 sphere and season to act and shew themselves in, 
 and consequently not to interfere with others, dif- 
 ferent indeed in their nature, but altogether as ne- 
 cessary in their use. And when an insolent de- 
 spiser of discipline, nurtured into impudence and 
 contempt of all order by a long risk of licence and 
 rebellion, shall appear before a church governor, se- 
 verity and resolution are that governor's virtues, and 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A SERMON 
 
 justice itself is his mercy ; for by making such an 
 one an example, (as much as in him lies,) he will 
 either cure him, or at least preserve others. 
 
 Were indeed the consciences of men as they 
 should be, the censures of the church might be a 
 sufficient coercion upon them ; but being, as most 
 of them nowadays are, hell and damnation proof, 
 her bare anathemas fall but like so many bruta 
 fulmma upon the obstinate and schismatical ; who 
 are like to think themselves shrewdly hurt (forsooth) 
 by being cut off from that body, which they choose 
 not to be of; and so being punished into a quiet en- 
 joyment of their beloved separation. Some will by 
 no means allow the church any further power than 
 only to exhort and to advise ; and this but with a 
 proviso too, that it extends not to such as think 
 themselves too wise and too great to be advised; 
 according to the hypothesis of which persons, the 
 authority of the church, and the obliging force of 
 all church sanctions, can bespeak men only thus ; 
 These and these things it is your duty to do, and if 
 you will not do them, you may as well let them 
 alone. A strict and efficacious constitution indeed, 
 which invests the church with no power at all, but 
 where men will be so very civil as to obey it, and 
 so at the same time pay it a duty, and do it a cour- 
 tesy too. 
 
 But when in the judgment of some men the spi- 
 ritual function, as such, must render a churchman, 
 though otherwise never so discreet and qualified, 
 yet merely because he is a churchman, unfit to 
 be intrusted by his prince with a share of that 
 power and jurisdiction, which in many circumstances 
 his prince has judged but too necessary to secure
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 133 
 
 the affairs and dignity of the church; and which, 
 every thriving grazier can think himself but ill dealt 
 with, if within his own country he is not mounted 
 to : it is a sign, that such discontented persons intend 
 not that religion shall advise them upon any other 
 terms, than that they may ride and govern their re- 
 ligion. 
 
 But surely, all our kings and our parliaments 
 understood well enough what they did, when they 
 thought fit to prop and fortify the spiritual order 
 with some power that was temporal ; and such is 
 the present state of the world, in the judgment of 
 any observing eye, that if the bishop has no other 
 defensatives but excommunication, no other power 
 but that of the keys, he may, for any notable effect 
 that he is like to do upon the factious and contuma- 
 cious, surrender up his pastoral staff, shut up the 
 church, and put those keys under the door. 
 
 And thus I have endeavoured to shew the three 
 things "included in the general nature of govern- 
 ment ; but to prescribe the manner of it in particu- 
 lar is neither in my power nor inclination : only, 
 I suppose, the common theory and speculation of 
 things is free and open to any one whom God has 
 sent into the world with some ability to contem- 
 plate, and by continuing him in the world, gives him 
 also opportunity. In all that has been said, I do 
 not in the least pretend to advise, or chalk out rules 
 to my superiors ; for some men cannot be fools with 
 so good acceptance as others. But whosoever is 
 called to speak upon a certain occasion, may, I con- 
 ceive, without offence, take any text suitable to that 
 occasion, and having taken it, may, or at least ought, 
 to speak suitably to that text. 
 
 K 3
 
 134 A SERMON 
 
 II. I proceed now to the second thing proposed 
 from the words, which is the means assigned for 
 the discharge of the duties mentioned, and exhibited 
 under this one short prescription, Let no man despise 
 thee : in the handling of which I shall shew, 
 
 1. The ill effects and destructive influence that 
 contempt has upon government, 
 
 2. The groundless causes upon which church rulers 
 are frequently despised, 
 
 3. And lastly, the just causes that would render 
 them, or indeed any other rulers, worthy to be de- 
 spised. All which being clearly made out, and im- 
 partially laid before our eyes, it will be easy and ob- 
 vious for every one, by avoiding the evil so marked 
 out, to answer and come up to the apostle's exhorta- 
 tion. And, 
 
 1. We will discourse of contempt, and the malign 
 hostile influence it has upon government. As for 
 the thing itself, every man's experience will inform 
 him, that there is no action in the behaviour of one 
 man towards another, of which human nature is 
 more impatient than of contempt, it being a thing 
 made up of these two ingredients, an undervaluing 
 of a man upon a belief of his utter uselessness and 
 inability, and a spiteful endeavour to engage the 
 rest of the world in the same belief and slight 
 esteem of him. So that the immediate design of 
 contempt is the shame of the person contemned; 
 and shame is a banishment of him from the good 
 opinion of the world, which every man most ear- 
 nestly desires, both upon a principle of nature and 
 of interest. For it is natural to all men to affect a 
 good name ; and he that despises a man, libels him 
 in his thoughts, reviles and traduces him in his judg-
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 135 
 
 merit. And there is also interest in the case ; for a 
 desire to be well thought of, directly resolves itself 
 into that owned and mighty principle of self-preser- 
 vation : forasmuch as thoughts are the first wheels 
 and motives of action, and there is no long passage 
 from one to the other. He that thinks a man to 
 the ground, will quickly endeavour to lay him 
 there; for while he despises him, he arraigns and 
 condemns him in his heart ; and the after-bitterness 
 and cruelties of his practices, are but the execu- 
 tioners of the sentence passed before upon him by 
 his judgment. Contempt, like the planet Saturn, 
 has first an ill aspect, and then a destroying in- 
 fluence. 
 
 By all which, I suppose, it is sufficiently proved 
 how noxious it must needs be to every governor: 
 for, can a man respect the person whom he de- 
 spises ? and can there be obedience, where there is 
 not so much as respect ? Will the knee bend, while 
 the heart insults ? and the actions submit, while 
 the apprehensions rebel? And therefore the most 
 experienced disturbers and underminers of govern- 
 ment have always laid their first train in contempt, 
 endeavouring to blow it up in the judgment and 
 esteem of the subject. And was not this method 
 observed in the late most flourishing and successful 
 rebellion ? For, how studiously did they lay about 
 them, both from the pulpit and the press, to cast a 
 slur upon the king's person, and to bring his go- 
 verning abilities under a disrepute ? And then after 
 they had sufficiently blasted him in his personal ca- 
 pacity, they found it easy work to dash and over- 
 throw him in his political. 
 
 Reputation is power, and consequently to despise 
 K 4
 
 136 A SERMON 
 
 is to weaken. For where there is contempt, there 
 can be no awe ; and where there is no awe, there 
 will be no subjection ; and if there is no subjection, 
 it is impossible, without the help of the former dis- 
 tinction of a politic capacity, to imagine how a 
 prince can be a governor. He that makes his prince 
 despised and undervalued, blows a trumpet against 
 him in men's breasts, beats him out of his subjects' 
 hearts, and fights him out of their affections ; and 
 after this, he may easily strip him of his other garri- 
 sons, having already dispossessed him of his strong- 
 est, by dismantling him of his honour, and seizing 
 his reputation. 
 
 Nor is what has been said of princes less true of 
 all other governors, from highest to lowest, from 
 him that heads an army, to him that is master of a 
 family, or of one single servant ; the formal reason 
 of a thing equally extending itself to every particu- 
 lar of the same kind. It is a proposition of eternal 
 verity, that none can govern while he is despised. 
 We may as well imagine that there may be a king 
 without majesty, a supreme without sovereignty. It 
 is a paradox, and a direct contradiction in practice; 
 for where contempt takes place, the very causes and 
 capacities of government cease. 
 
 Men are so far from being governed by a despised 
 person, that they will not so much as be taught by 
 him. Truth itself shall lose its credit, if delivered 
 by a person that has none. As on the contrary, be 
 but a person in vogue and credit with the multi- 
 tude, he shall be able to commend and set off what- 
 soever he says, to authorize any nonsense, and to 
 make popular, rambling, incoherent stuff (seasoned 
 with twang and tautology) pass for high rhetoric
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. _ 137 
 
 and moving preaching; such indeed as a zealous 
 tradesman would even live and die under. And 
 now, I suppose, it is no ill topic of argumentation, 
 to shew the prevalence of contempt, by the contrary 
 influences of respect ; which thus (as it were) dubs 
 every little, petit, admired person, lord and com- 
 mander of all his admirers. And certain it is, that 
 the ecclesiastical, as well as the civil governor, has 
 cause to pursue the same methods of securing and 
 confirming himself; the grounds and means of go- 
 vernment being founded upon the same bottom of 
 nature in both, though the circumstances and rela- 
 tive considerations of the persons may differ. And 
 I have nothing to say more upon this head, but that 
 if churchmen are called upon to discharge the parts 
 of governors, they may with the highest reason ex- 
 pect those supports and helps that are indispensably 
 requisite thereunto ; and that those men are but 
 trepanned, who are called to govern, being invested 
 with authority, but bereaved of power ; which, ac- 
 cording to a true and plain estimate of things, is 
 nothing else but to mock and betray them into a 
 splendid and magisterial way of being ridiculous. 
 And thus much for the ill effects and destructive 
 influence that contempt has upon government. 
 
 2. I pass now to the second thing, which is to 
 shew the groundless causes, upon which church 
 rulers are frequently despised. 
 
 Concerning which, I shall premise this ; that no- 
 thing can be a reasonable ground of despising a 
 man, but some fault or other chargeable upon him; 
 and nothing can be a fault that is not naturally in 
 a man's power to prevent ; otherwise, it is a man's 
 unhappiness, his mischance, or calamity, but not his
 
 138 A SERMON 
 
 fault. Nothing can justly be despised, that cannot 
 justly be blamed: and it is a most certain rule in 
 reason and moral philosophy, that where there is 
 no choice, there can be no blame. 
 
 This premised, we may take notice of two usual 
 grounds of the contempt men cast upon the clergy, 
 and yet for which no man ought to think himself at 
 all the more worthy to be contemned. 
 
 (1.) The first is their very profession itself; con- 
 cerning which it is a sad, but an experimented truth, 
 that the names derived from it, in the refined lan- 
 guage of the present age, are made but the appella- 
 tives of scorn. This is not charged universally upon 
 all, but experience will affirm, or rather proclaim it of 
 much the greater part of the world ; and men must 
 persuade us that we have lost our hearing and our 
 common sense, before we can believe the contrary. 
 But surely, the bottom and foundation of this beha- 
 viour towards persons set apart for the service of 
 God, that this very relation should entitle them to 
 such a peculiar scorn, can be nothing else but athe- 
 ism, the growing rampant sin of the times. 
 
 For call a man oppressor, griping, covetous, or 
 over-reaching person, and the word indeed, being ill 
 befriended by custom, perhaps sounds not well, but 
 generally, in the apprehension of the hearer, it signi- 
 fies no more, than that such an one is a wise and a 
 thriving, or, in the common phrase, a notable man ; 
 which will certainly procure him a respect: and say 
 of another, that he is an epicure, a loose, or a vi- 
 cious man ; and it leaves in men no other opinion of 
 him, than that he is a merry, pleasant, and a genteel 
 person : and that he that taxes him, is but a pedant, 
 an unexperienced and a morose fellow; one that
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 139 
 
 does not know men, nor understand what it is to 
 eat and drink well : but call a man priest or parson, 
 and you set him, in some men's esteem, ten degrees 
 below his own servant. 
 
 But let us not be discouraged or displeased, either 
 with ourselves or our profession, upon this account. 
 Let the virtuosos mock, insult, and despise on : yet 
 after all, they shall never be able to droll away the 
 nature of things ; to trample a pearl into a pebble, 
 nor to make sacred things contemptible, any more 
 than themselves, by such speeches, honourable. 
 
 (2.) Another groundless cause of some men's de- 
 spising the governors of our church, is their loss of 
 that former grandeur and privilege that they en- 
 joyed. But it is no real disgrace to the church 
 merely to lose her privileges, but to forfeit them by 
 her fault or misdemeanor, of which she is not con- 
 scious. Whatsoever she enjoyed in this kind, she 
 readily^, acknowledges to have streamed from the 
 royal munificence, and the favours of the civil power 
 shining upon the spiritual ; which favours the same 
 power may retract and gather back into itself, when 
 it pleases. And we envy not the greatness and 
 lustre of the Romish clergy; neither their scarlet 
 gowns nor their scarlet sins. If our church cannot 
 be great ; which is better, she can be humble, and 
 content to be reformed into as low a condition as 
 men for their own private advantage would have 
 her ; who wisely tell her, that it is best and safest 
 for her to be without any power of temporal advan- 
 tage ; like the good physician, who out of tender- 
 ness to his patient, lest he should hurt himself by 
 drinking, was so kind as to rob him of his silver 
 cup. The church of England glories in nothing
 
 140 A SERMON 
 
 more, than that she is the truest friend to kings and 
 to kingly government, of any other church in the 
 world ; that they were the same hands and princi- 
 ples that took the crown from the king's head, and 
 the mitre from the bishops. It is indeed the hap- 
 piness of some professions and callings, that they 
 can equally square themselves to, and thrive under 
 all revolutions of government : but the clergy of 
 England neither know nor affect that happiness, 
 and are willing to be despised for not doing so. And 
 so far is our church from encroaching upon the civil 
 power, as some, who are back-friends to both, would 
 maliciously insinuate, that, were it stripped of the 
 very remainder of its privileges, and made as like 
 the primitive church for its bareness, as it is al- 
 ready for its purity, it could cheerfully, and, what 
 is more, loyally, want all such privileges; and in the 
 want of them pray heartily that the civil power may 
 flourish as much, and stand as secure from the as- 
 saults of fanatic, antimonarchical principles, (grown 
 to such a dreadful height during the church's late 
 confusions,) as it stood while the church enjoyed those 
 privileges. And thus much for the two groundless 
 causes, upon which church-rulers are frequently de- 
 spised. I descend now to the 
 
 3. And last thing, which is to shew those just 
 causes, that would render them, or indeed any other 
 rulers, worthy to be despised. Many might be as- 
 signed, but I shall pitch only upon four; in discours- 
 ing of which, rather the time than the subject will 
 force me to be very brief. 
 
 (1.) And the first is ignorance. We know how 
 great an absurdity our Saviour accounted it, for the 
 blind to lead the blind; and to put him that cannot
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 141 
 
 so much as see, to discharge the office of a watch. 
 Nothing more exposes to contempt than ignorance. 
 When Sampson's eyes were out, of a public magis- 
 trate he was made a public sport. And when Eli 
 was blind, we know how well he governed his sons, 
 and how well they governed the church under him. 
 But now the blindness of the understanding is 
 greater and more scandalous ; especially in such a 
 seeing age as ours ; in which the very knowledge of 
 former times passes but for ignorance in a better 
 dress : an age that flies at all learning, and inquires 
 into every thing, but especially into faults and de- 
 fects. Ignorance indeed, so far as it may be resolved 
 into natural inability, is, as to men, at least, inculpa- 
 ble ; and consequently, not the object of scorn, but 
 pity ; but in a governor, it cannot be without the 
 conjunction of the highest impudence : for who bid 
 such an one aspire to teach and to govern ? A blind 
 man sitting in the chimney corner is pardonable 
 enough^but sitting at the helm he is intolerable. If 
 men will be ignorant and illiterate, let them be so in 
 private, and to themselves, and not set their defects 
 in an high place, to make them visible and conspi- 
 cuous. If owls will not be hooted at, let them keep 
 close within the tree, and not perch upon the upper 
 boughs. 
 
 (2.) A second thing, that makes a governor justly 
 despised, is viciousness and ill morals. Virtue is 
 that which must tip the preacher's tongue and the 
 ruler's sceptre with authority. And therefore with 
 what a controlling overpowering force did our Sa- 
 viour tax the sins of the Jews, when he ushered in 
 his rebukes of them with that high assertion of 
 himself, Who is there amongst you, that convinces
 
 142 A SERMON 
 
 me of sin ? Otherwise we may easily guess with 
 what impatience the world would have heard an in- 
 cestuous Herod discoursing of chastity, a Judas con- 
 demning covetousness,or a Pharisee preaching against 
 hypocrisy : every word must have recoiled upon the 
 speaker. Guilt is that which quells the courage of 
 the bold, ties the tongue of the eloquent, and makes 
 greatness itself sneak and lurk, and behave itself 
 poorly. For, let a vicious person be in never so 
 high command, yet still he will be looked upon but 
 as one great vice, empowered to correct and chastise 
 others. A corrupt governor is nothing else but a 
 reigning sin : and a sin in office may command any 
 thing but respect. No man can be credited by his 
 place or power, who by his virtue does not first credit 
 that. 
 
 3. A third thing that makes a governor justly de- 
 spised, is fearfulness of, and mean compliances with 
 bold, popular offenders. Some indeed account it the 
 very spirit of policy and prudence, where men refuse 
 to come up to a law, to make the law come down to 
 them. And for their so doing, have this infallible 
 recompence, that they are not at all the more loved, 
 but much the less feared ; and, which is a sure con- 
 sequent of it, accordingly respected. But believe it, 
 it is a resolute, tenacious adherence to well chosen 
 principles, that adds glory to greatness, and makes 
 the face of a governor shine in the eyes of those that 
 see and examine his actions. Disobedience, if com- 
 plied with, is infinitely encroaching, and having 
 gained one degree of liberty upon indulgence, will 
 demand another upon claim. Every vice interprets 
 a connivance and approbation. 
 
 Which being so, is it not an enormous indecency,
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 143 
 
 as well as a gross impiety, that any one who owns 
 the name of a divine, hearing a great sinner brave 
 it against Heaven, talk atheistically, and scoff pro- 
 fanely at that religion, by which he owns an expect- 
 ation to be saved, if he cares to be saved at all, 
 should, instead of vindicating the truth to the blas- 
 phemer's teeth, think it discretion and moderation 
 (forsooth) with a complying silence, and perhaps a 
 smile to boot, tacitly to approve, and strike in with 
 the scoffer, and so go sharer both in the mirth and 
 guilt of his profane jests ? 
 
 But let such an one be assured, that even that 
 blasphemer himself would inwardly reverence him, 
 if rebuked by him ; as, on the contrary, he in his 
 heart really despises him for his cowardly, base si- 
 lence. If any one should reply here, that the times 
 and manners of men will not bear such a practice, I 
 confess that it is an answer, from the mouth of a 
 professed 1 time-server, very rational : but as for that 
 man tliat is not so, let him satisfy himself of the 
 reason, justice, and duty of an action, and leave the 
 event of it to God, who will never fail those who do 
 not think themselves too wise to trust him. For, 
 let the worst come to the worst, a man in so doing 
 would be ruined more honourably than otherwise 
 preferred. 
 
 4. And lastly. A fourth thing that makes a go- 
 vernor justly despised, is a proneness to despise 
 others. There is a kind of respect due to the mean- 
 est person, even from the greatest ; for it is the 
 mere favour of Providence, that he, who is actually 
 the greatest, was not the meanest. A man cannot 
 cast his respects so low, but they will rebound and 
 return upon him. What Heaven bestows upon the
 
 144 A SERMON 
 
 earth in kind influences and benign aspects, is paid 
 it back again in sacrifice, incense, and adoration. 
 And surely, a great person gets more by obliging his 
 inferior, than he can by disdaining him ; as a man 
 has a greater advantage by sowing and dressing his 
 ground, than he can have by trampling upon it. It 
 is not to insult and domineer, to look disdainfully, 
 and revile imperiously, that procures an esteem from 
 any one ; it will indeed make men keep their dis- 
 tance sufficiently, but it will be distance without re- 
 verence. 
 
 And thus I have shewn four several causes that 
 may justly render any ruler despised ; and by the 
 same work, I hope, have made it evident, how little 
 cause men have to despise the rulers of our church. 
 God is the fountain of honour ; and the conduit by 
 which he conveys it to the sons of men, are virtuous 
 and generous practices. But as for us, who have 
 more immediately and nearly devoted, both our per- 
 sons and concerns to his service, it were infinitely 
 vain to expect it upon any other terms. Some in- 
 deed may please and promise themselves high mat- 
 ters, from full revenues, stately palaces, court-in- 
 terests, and great dependences: but that which 
 makes the clergy glorious, is to be knowing in their 
 profession, unspotted in their lives, active and labo- 
 rious in their charges, bold and resolute in opposing 
 seducers, and daring to look vice in the face, though 
 never so potent and illustrious; and lastly, to be 
 gentle, courteous, and compassionate to all. 
 
 These are om* robes and our maces, our escutch- 
 eons, and highest titles of honour : for by all these 
 things God is honoured, who has declared this the 
 eternal rule and standard of all honour derivable
 
 ON TITUS II. 15. 145 
 
 upon men, that those who honour him, shall be ho- 
 noured by him. 
 
 To which God, fearful in praises, and working 
 wonders, be rendered and ascribed as is most 
 due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, 
 both now and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 UPON 
 
 JOHN VII. 17. 
 
 If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, 
 whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself. 
 
 \V HEN God was pleased to new-model the world 
 by the introduction of a new religion, and that in 
 the room of one set up by himself, it was requisite 
 that he should recommend it to the reasons of men 
 with the same authority and evidence that enforced 
 the former ; and that a religion established by God 
 himself should not be displaced by any thing under 
 a demonstration of that divine power that first in- 
 troduced it. And the whole Jewish economy, we 
 know, was brought in with miracles ; the law was 
 writ and confirmed by the same almighty hand : the 
 whole universe was subservient to its promulgation : 
 the signs of Egypt and the Red sea ; fire and a 
 voice from heaven ; the heights of the one, and the 
 depths of the other ; so that (as it were) from the 
 top to the bottom of nature, there issued forth one 
 universal united testimony of the divinity of the 
 Mosaic law and religion. And this stood in the 
 world for the space of two thousand years ; till at 
 length, in the fulness of time, the reason of men 
 ripening to such a pitch, as to be above the peda- 
 gogy of Moses's rod, and the discipline of types, God 
 thought fit to display the substance without the sha-
 
 A SERMON ON JOHN VII. 17. 147 
 
 dow, and to read the world a lecture of an higher 
 and more sublime religion in Christianity. But the 
 Jewish was yet in possession, and therefore that this 
 might so enter, as not to intrude, it was to bring its 
 warrant from the same hand of omnipotence. And 
 for this cause, Christ, that he might not make either 
 a suspected or precarious address to men's under- 
 standings, outdoes Moses, before he displaces him ; 
 shews an ascendant spirit above him, raises the 
 dead, and cures more plagues than he brought upon 
 Egypt, casts out devils, and heals the deaf, speaking 
 such words, as even gave ears to hear them ; cures 
 the blind and the lame, and makes the very dumb to 
 speak for the truth of his doctrine. But what was 
 the result of all this ? Why, some look upon him as 
 an impostor and a conjurer, as an agent for Beelze- 
 bub, and therefore reject his gospel, hold fast their 
 law, and will not let Moses give place to the ma- 
 gician. 
 
 Now the cause that Christ's doctrine was rejected, 
 must of necessity be one of these two. 1. An insuf- 
 ficiency in the arguments brought by Christ to en- 
 force it. Or, 2. An indisposition in the persons, to 
 whom this doctrine was addressed, to receive it. 
 
 And for this, Christ, who had not only an infinite 
 power to work miracles, but also an equal wisdom 
 both to know the just force and measure of every 
 argument or motive to persuade or cause assent ; 
 and withal, to look through and through all the 
 dark corners of the soul of man, all the windings 
 and turnings, and various workings of his faculties ; 
 and to discern how and by what means they are to 
 be wrought upon ; and what prevails upon them, 
 and what does not : he, I say, states the whole mat- 
 
 L 2
 
 148 A SERMON 
 
 ter upon this issue ; that the arguments by which 
 his doctrine addressed itself to the minds of men, 
 were proper, adequate, and sufficient to compass 
 their respective ends in persuading or convincing 
 the persons to whom they were proposed : and more- 
 over, that there was no such defect in the natural 
 light of man's understanding, or knowing faculty ; 
 but that, considered in itself, it would be apt enough 
 to close with, and yield its assent to, the evidence of 
 those arguments duly offered to, and laid before it. 
 And yet, that after all this, the event proved other- 
 wise; and that, notwithstanding both the weight 
 and fitness of the arguments to persuade, and the 
 light of man's intellect to meet this persuasive evi- 
 dence with a suitable assent, no assent followed, nor 
 were men thereby actually persuaded ; he charges it 
 wholly upon the corruption, the perverseness, and 
 vitiosity of man's will, as the only cause that ren- 
 dered all the arguments, his doctrine came clothed 
 with, unsuccessful. And consequently, he affirms 
 here in the text, that men must love the truth be- 
 fore they throughly believe it ; and that the gospel 
 has then only a free admission into the assent of the 
 understanding, when it brings a passport from a 
 rightly disposed will, as being the great faculty of 
 dominion, that commands all, that shuts out and lets 
 in what objects it pleases, and, in a word, keeps the 
 keys of the whole soul. 
 
 This is the design and purport of the words, 
 which I shall draw forth and handle in the prosecu- 
 tion of these four following heads. 
 
 I. I shall shew, what the doctrine of Christ was, 
 that the world so much stuck at, and was so averse 
 from believing.
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17- 149 
 
 II. I shall shew, that men's unbelief of it was 
 from no defect or insufficiency in the arguments 
 brought by Christ to enforce it. 
 
 III. I shall shew, what was the true and proper 
 cause, into which this unbelief was resolved. 
 
 IV. And lastly, I shall shew, that a pious and 
 well disposed mind, attended with a readiness to 
 obey the known will of God, is the surest and best 
 means to enlighten the understanding to a belief of 
 Christianity. 
 
 Of these in their order : and, 
 
 First for the doctrine of Christ. We must take it 
 in the known and common division of it, into mat- 
 ters of belief, and matters of practice. 
 
 The matters of belief related chiefly to his person 
 and offices. As, That he was the Messias that 
 should come into the world : the eternal son of God, 
 begotten of him before all worlds : that in time he 
 was made man, and born of a pure virgin : that he 
 should die and satisfy for the sins of the world ; and 
 that he should rise again from the dead, and ascend 
 into heaven ; and there sitting at the right hand of 
 God, hold the government of the whole world, till 
 the great and last day ; in which he should judge 
 both the quick and the dead, raised to life again 
 with the very same bodies ; and then deliver up all 
 rule and government into the hands of his Father. 
 These were the great articles and credenda of 
 Christianity, that so much startled the world, and 
 seemed to be such, as not only brought in a new re- 
 ligion amongst men, but also required new reason to 
 embrace it. 
 
 The other part of his doctrine lay in matters of 
 practice ; which we find contained in his several ser- 
 
 L 3
 
 150 A SERMON 
 
 mons, but principally in that glorious, full, and ad- 
 mirable discourse upon the mount, recorded in the 
 5th, 6th, and 7th chapters of St. Matthew. All 
 which particulars, if we would reduce to one general 
 comprehensive head, they are all wrapt up in the 
 doctrine of self-denial a , prescribing to the world the 
 most inward purity of heart, and a constant conflict 
 with all our sensual appetites and worldly interests, 
 even to the quitting of all that is dear to us, and the 
 sacrificing of life itself, rather than knowingly to 
 omit the least duty, or commit the least sin. And 
 this was that which grated harder upon, and raised 
 greater tumults and boilings in the hearts of men, 
 than the strangeness and seeming unreasonableness 
 of all the former articles, that took up chiefly in spe- 
 culation and belief. 
 
 And that this was so, will appear from a consider- 
 ation of the state and condition the world was in, as 
 to religion, when Christ promulged his doctrine. 
 Nothing further than the outward action was then 
 looked after, and when that failed, there was an ex- 
 piation ready in the opus operatum of a sacrifice. 
 So that all their virtue and religion lay in their folds 
 and their stalls, and what was wanting in the inno- 
 cence, the blood of lambs was to supply. The 
 Scribes and Pharisees, who were the great doctors 
 of the Jewish church, expounded the law no further. 
 They accounted no man a murderer, but he that 
 struck a knife into his brother's heart : no man an 
 adulterer, but he that actually defiled his neighbour's 
 bed. They thought it no injustice nor irreligion to 
 prosecute the severest retaliation or revenge; so 
 
 a See Sermon on Matth. x. 33. p. 56.
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17. 151 
 
 that at the same time their outward man might be 
 a saint, and their inward man a devil. No care at 
 all was had to curb the unruliness of anger, or the 
 exorbitance of desire. Amongst all their sacrifices, 
 they never sacrificed so much as one lust. Bulls 
 and goats bled apace, but neither the violence of the 
 one, nor the wantonness of the other, ever died a vic- 
 tim at any of their altars. So that no wonder, that 
 a doctrine that arraigned the irregularities of the 
 most inward motions and affections of the soul, and 
 told men, that anger and harsh words were murder, 
 and looks and desires, adultery ; that a man might 
 stab with his tongue, and assassinate with his mind, 
 pollute himself with a glance, and forfeit eternity by 
 a cast of his eye : no wonder, I say, that such a 
 doctrine made a strange bustle and disturbance in 
 the world, which then sat warm and easy in a free 
 enjoyment of their lusts ; ordering matters so, that 
 they put a trick upon the great rule of virtue, the 
 law, and made a shift to think themselves guiltless, 
 in spite of all their sins ; to break the precept, and 
 at the same time to baffle the curse. Contriving to 
 themselves such a sort of holiness, as should please 
 God and themselves too; justify and save them 
 harmless, but never sanctify nor make them better. 
 
 But the severe notions of Christianity turned all 
 this upside down, filling all with surprise and amaze- 
 ment : they came upon the world, like light darting 
 full upon the face of a man asleep, who had a mind 
 to sleep on, and not to be disturbed : they were ter- 
 rible astonishing alarms to persons grown fat and 
 wealthy by a long and successful imposture ; by sup- 
 pressing the true sense of the law, by putting an- 
 other veil upon Moses ; and, in a word, persuading 
 
 L 4
 
 152 A SERMON 
 
 the world, that men might be Tionest and religious, 
 happy and blessed, though they never denied nor 
 mortified one of their corrupt appetites. 
 
 And thus much for the first thing proposed; 
 which was to give you a brief draught of the doc- 
 trine of Christ, that met with so little assent from 
 the world in general, and from the Jews in particu- 
 lar. I come now to the 
 
 Second thing proposed : which was to shew, That 
 men's unbelief of Christ's doctrine was from no de- 
 fect or insufficiency in the arguments brought by 
 Christ to enforce it. This I shall make appear two 
 ways. 
 
 1. By shewing, that the arguments spoken of 
 were in themselves convincing and sufficient. 
 
 2. By shewing, that upon supposition they were 
 not so, yet their insufficiency was not the cause of 
 their rejection. 
 
 And first for the first of these : That the argu- 
 ments brought by Christ for the confirmation of his 
 doctrine were in themselves convincing and suffi- 
 cient. I shall insist only upon the convincing power 
 of the two principal. One from the prophecies re- 
 corded concerning him ; the other from the miracles 
 done by him. Of both very briefly. And for the 
 former. There was a full entire harmony and con- 
 sent of all the divine predictions receiving their 
 completion in Christ. The strength of which argu- 
 ment lies in this, that it evinces the divine mission 
 of Christ's person, and thereby proves him to be the 
 Messias ; which by consequence proves and asserts 
 the truth of his doctrine. For he that was so sent 
 by God, could declare nothing but the will of God. 
 And so evidently do all the prophecies agree to
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17- 153 
 
 Christ, that I dare with great confidence affirm, 
 that if the prophecies recorded of the Messiah are 
 not fulfilled in Jesus of Nazareth, it is impossible to 
 know or distinguish when a prophecy is fulfilled, 
 and when not, in any thing or person whatsoever ; 
 which would utterly evacuate the use of them. But 
 in Christ they all meet with such an invincible 
 lustre and evidence, as if they were not predictions, 
 but after-relations ; and the penmen of them not 
 prophets, but evangelists. And now, can any kind 
 of ratiocination allow Christ all the marks of the 
 Messiah, and yet deny him to be the Messiah ? 
 Could he have all the signs, and yet not be the 
 thing signified ? Could the shadows that followed 
 him, and were cast from him, belong to any other 
 body ? All these things are absurd and unnatural ; 
 and therefore the force of this argument was un- 
 deniable., 
 
 Nor -was that other from the miracles done by him 
 at all inferior. The strength and force of which, to 
 prove the things they are alleged for, consists in 
 this, that a miracle being a* work exceeding the 
 power of any created agent, and consequently being 
 an effect of the divine omnipotence, when it is done 
 to give credit and authority to any word or doctrine 
 declared to proceed from God, either that doctrine 
 must really proceed from God, as it is declared ; or 
 God by that work of his almighty power must bear 
 witness to a falsehood ; and so bring the creature 
 under the greatest obligation, that can possibly en- 
 gage the assent of a rational nature, to believe and 
 assent to a lie. For surely a greater reason than 
 this cannot be produced for the belief of any thing, 
 than for a man to stand up and say, This and this I
 
 154 A SERMON 
 
 tell you as the mind and word of God ; and to prove 
 that it is so, I will do that before your eyes, that 
 you yourselves shall confess can be done by nothing, 
 but the almighty power of that God that can neither 
 deceive nor be deceived. Now if this be an irre- 
 fragable way to convince, as the reason of all man- 
 kind must confess it to be, then Christ's doctrine 
 came attended and enforced with the greatest means 
 of conviction imaginable. Thus much for the argu- 
 ment in thesi; and then for the assumption that 
 Christ did such miraculous and supernatural works 
 to confirm what he said, we need only repeat the 
 message sent by him to John the Baptist ; that 
 the dumb spake, the blind saw, the lame walked, 
 and the dead were raised. Which particulars none 
 of his bitterest enemies ever pretended to deny, they 
 being conveyed to them by an evidence past all ex- 
 ception, even the evidence of sense ; nay of the 
 quickest, the surest, and most authentic of all the 
 senses, the sight : which if it be not certain in the 
 reports and representations it makes of things to the 
 mind, there neither is, nor can be naturally, any 
 such thing as certainty or knowledge in the world. 
 And thus much for the first part of the second gene- 
 ral thing proposed ; namely, That the arguments 
 brought by Christ for the proof of his doctrine, were 
 in themselves convincing and sufficient. 
 
 I come now to the other part of it, which is to 
 shew, That admitting or supposing that they were 
 not sufficient, yet their insufficiency was not the 
 cause of their actual rejection. Which will appear 
 from these following reasons. 
 
 (1.) Because those who rejected Christ's doctrine, 
 and the arguments by which he confirmed it, fully
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17- 155 
 
 believed and assented to other things conveyed to 
 them with less evidence. Such as were even the 
 miracles of Moses himself, upon the credit and au- 
 thority of which stood the whole economy of the 
 Jewish constitution. For though I grant that they 
 believed his miracles upon the credit of constant 
 unerring tradition, both written and unwritten, and 
 grant also that such tradition was of as great cer- 
 tainty as the reports of sense ; yet still I affirm, that 
 it was not of the same evidence, which yet is the 
 greatest and most immediate ground of all assent. 
 
 The evidence of sense (as I have noted) is the 
 clearest that naturally the mind of man can receive, 
 and is indeed the foundation both of all the evidence 
 and certainty too, that tradition is capable of; which 
 pretends to no other credibility from the testimony 
 and word of some men, but because their word is at 
 length traced up to, and originally terminates in, the 
 sense and experience of some others, which could 
 not be known beyond that compass of time in which 
 it was exercised, but by being told and reported to 
 such, as, not living at that time, saw it not, and by 
 them to others, and so down from one age to 
 another. For we therefore believe the report of 
 some men concerning a thing, because it implies 
 that there were some others who actually saw that 
 thing. It is clear therefore, that want of evidence 
 could not be the cause that the Jews rejected and 
 disbelieved the gospel, since they embraced and be- 
 lieved the law, upon the credit of those miracles 
 that were less evident. For those of Christ they 
 knew by sight and sense, those of Moses only by 
 tradition ; which, though equally certain, yet were 
 by no means equally evident with the other.
 
 156 A SERMON 
 
 (2.) They believed and assented to things that 
 were neither evident nor certain, but only probable ; 
 for they conversed, they traded, they merchandized, 
 and, by so doing, frequently ventured their whole 
 estates and fortunes upon a probable belief or per- 
 suasion of the honesty and truth of those whom they 
 dealt and corresponded with. And interest, espe- 
 cially in worldly matters, and yet more especially 
 with a Jew, never proceeds but upon supposal, at 
 least, of a firm and sufficient bottom : from whence 
 it is manifest, that since they could believe and 
 practically rely upon, and that even in their dearest 
 concerns, bare probabilities ; they could not with 
 any colour of reason pretend want of evidence for 
 their disbelief of Christ's doctrine, which came en- 
 forced with arguments far surpassing all such proba- 
 bilities. 
 
 (3.) They believed and assented to things neither 
 evident nor certain, nor yet so much as probable, but 
 actually false and fallacious. Such as were the ab- 
 surd doctrines and stories of their rabbins : which, 
 though since Christ's time they have grown much 
 more numerous and fabulous than before, yet even 
 then did so much pester the church, and so grossly 
 abuse and delude the minds of that people, that 
 contradictions themselves asserted by rabbies were 
 equally received and revered by them as 'the sacred 
 and infallible word of God. And whereas they re- 
 jected Christ and his doctrine, though every tittle of 
 it came enforced with miracle, and the best argu- 
 ments that heaven and earth could back it with; 
 yet Christ then foretold, and after-times confirmed 
 that prediction of his in John v. 43. that they should 
 receive many cheats and deceivers coming to them
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17. 157 
 
 in their own name : fellows that set up for Mes- 
 sias's, only upon their own heads, without pretending 
 to any thing singular or miraculous, but impudence 
 and imposture. 
 
 From all which it follows, that the Jews could 
 not allege so much as a pretence of the want of 
 evidence in the argument brought by Christ to prove 
 the divinity and authority of his doctrine, as a rea- 
 son of their rejection and disbelief of it ; since they 
 embraced and believed many things, for some of 
 which they had no evidence, and for others of which 
 they had no certainty, and for most of which they 
 had not so much as probability. Which being so, 
 from whence then could such an obstinate infidelity, 
 in matters of so great clearness and credibility, take 
 its rise ? Why, this will be made out to us in the 
 
 Third thing proposed, which was to shew, What 
 was the true and proper cause into which this un- 
 belief of , the Pharisees was resolved. And that 
 was, in ""a word, the captivity of their wills and af- 
 fections to lusts directly opposite to the design and 
 spirit of Christianity. They were extremely ambi- 
 tious and insatiably covetous, and therefore no im- 
 pression from argument or miracle could reach them ; 
 but they stood proof against all conviction. Now, 
 to shew how the pravity of the will could influence 
 the understanding to a disbelief of Christianity, I 
 shall premise these two considerations. 
 
 1. That the understanding in its assent to any 
 religion, is very differently wrought upon in persons 
 bred up in it, and in persons at length converted to 
 it. For in the first, it finds the mind naked and 
 unprepossessed with any former notions, and so easily 
 and insensibly gains upon the assent, grows up with
 
 158 A SERMON 
 
 it, and incorporates into it. But in persons adult, 
 and already possessed with other notions of religion, 
 the understanding cannot be brought to quit these, 
 and to change them for new, but by great considera- 
 tion and examination of the truth and firmness of the 
 one, and comparing them with the flaws and weak- 
 ness of the other. Which cannot be done without 
 some labour and intention of the mind, and the 
 thoughts dwelling a considerable time upon the sur- 
 vey and discussion of each particular. 
 
 2. The other thing to be considered is, that in 
 this great work, the understanding is chiefly at the 
 disposal of the will. For though it is not in the 
 power of the will, directly either to cause or hinder 
 the assent of the understanding to a thing proposed 
 and duly set before it ; yet it is antecedently in the 
 power of the will, to apply the understanding faculty 
 to, or to take it off from the consideration of those 
 objects, to which, without such a previous considera- 
 tion, it cannot yield its assent. For all assent pre- 
 supposes a simple apprehension or knowledge of the 
 terms of the proposition to be assented to. But 
 unless the understanding employ and exercise its 
 cognitive or apprehensive power about these terms, 
 there can be no actual apprehension of them. And 
 the understanding, as to the exercise of this power, 
 is subject to the command of the will, though as to 
 the specific nature of its acts, it is determined by the 
 object. As for instance ; my understanding cannot 
 assent to this proposition, That Jesus Christ is the 
 Son of God ; but it must first consider, and so ap- 
 prehend, what the terms and parts of it are, and 
 what they signify. And this cannot be done, if my 
 will be so slothful, worldly, or voluptuously disposed,
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17- 159 
 
 as never to suffer me at all to think of them ; but 
 perpetually to carry away and apply my mind to 
 other things. Thus far is the understanding at the 
 disposal of the will. 
 
 Now these two considerations being premised, 
 namely, that persons grown up in the belief of any 
 religion cannot change that for another, without ap- 
 plying their understanding duly to consider and 
 compare both ; and then, that it is in the power of 
 the will, whether it will suffer the understanding 
 thus to dwell upon such objects or no : from these 
 two, I say, we have the true philosophy and rea- 
 son of the Pharisees unbelief; for they could not 
 relinquish their Judaism, and embrace Christianity, 
 without considering, weighing, and collating both re- 
 ligions. And this their understanding could not 
 apply to, if it were diverted and took off by their 
 will ; and their will would be sure to divert and 
 take itr~off, being wholly possessed and governed by 
 their covetousness and ambition, which perfectly 
 abhorred the precepts of such a doctrine. And this 
 is the very account that our Saviour himself gives of 
 this matter in John v. 44. How can ye believe, says 
 he, who receive honour one of another? He looked 
 upon it as a thing morally impossible, for persons 
 infinitely proud and ambitious, to frame their minds 
 to an impartial unbiassed consideration of a religion 
 that taught nothing but self-denial and the cross ; 
 that humility was honour, and that the higher men 
 climbed, the further they were from heaven. They 
 could not with patience so much as think of it ; and 
 therefore, you may be sure, would never assent to it. 
 And again, when Christ discoursed to them of alms, 
 and a pious distribution of the goods and riches of
 
 160 A SERMON 
 
 this world, in Luke xvi. it is said in the 14th verse, 
 that the Pharisees, who were covetous, heard all 
 those things, and derided him. Charity and libe- 
 rality is a paradox to the covetous. The doctrine 
 that teaches alms, and the persons that need them, 
 are by such equally sent packing. Tell a miser of 
 bounty to a friend, or mercy to the poor, and point 
 him out his duty with an evidence as bright and 
 piercing as the light, yet he will not understand it, 
 but shuts his eyes as close as he does his hands, and 
 resolves not to be convinced. In both these cases, 
 there is an incurable blindness caused by a resolution 
 not to see ; and to all intents and purposes, he who 
 will not open his eyes, is for the present as blind as 
 he that cannot. And thus I have done with the 
 third thing proposed, and shewn what was the true 
 cause of the Pharisees disbelief of Christ's doctrine : 
 it was the predominance of those two - great vices 
 over their will, their covetousness and ambition. Pass 
 we now to the 
 
 Fourth and last, which is to shew, That a pious 
 and well disposed mind, attended with a readiness to 
 obey the known will of God, is the surest and best 
 means to enlighten the understanding to a belief of 
 Christianity. That it is so, will appear upon a dou- 
 ble account. 
 
 First, upon the account of God's goodness, and 
 the method of his dealing with the souls of men ; 
 which is, to reward every degree of sincere obedience 
 to his will, with a further discovery of it. / under- 
 stand more than the ancients, says David, Psalm 
 cxix. 100. But how did he attain to such an excel- 
 lency of understanding ? Was it by longer study, or 
 a greater quickness and felicity of parts, than was in
 
 ON JOHN VH. 17- 161 
 
 those before him? No, he gives the reason in the 
 next words, it was because I keep thy statutes. 
 He got the start of them in point of obedience, and 
 thereby outstript them at length in point of know- 
 ledge. And who in old time were the men of extra- 
 ordinary revelations, but those who \tere also men 
 of extraordinary piety? Who were made privy to 
 the secrets of Heaven, and the hidden will of the Al- 
 mighty, but such as performed his revealed will at 
 an higher rate of strictness than the rest of the 
 world ? They were the Enochs, the Abrahams, the 
 Elijahs, and the Daniels ; such as the scripture re- 
 markably testifies of, that they walked with God. 
 And surely, he that walks with another, is in a 
 likelier way to know and understand his mind, than 
 he that foUows him at a distance. Upon which ac- 
 count, the learned Jews still made this one of the 
 ingredients that went to constitute a prophet, that 
 he should be perfectus in moralibus, a person of 
 exact morals, and unblameable in his life : the 
 gift of prophecy being a ray of such a light, as never 
 darts itself upon a dunghill. And what I here ob- 
 serve occasionally of extraordinary revelation and 
 prophecy, will by analogy and due proportion ex- 
 tend even to those communications of God's will, 
 that are requisite to men's salvation. An honest 
 hearty simplicity and proneness to do all that a man 
 knows of God's will, is the ready, certain, and in- 
 fallible way to know more of it. For I am sure it 
 may be said of the practical knowledge of religion, 
 that to him that hath shall be given, and he shall 
 have more abundantly. 
 
 I dare not, I confess, join in that bold assertion 
 of some, that facienti quod in se est., Deus nee de- 
 
 VOL. i. M
 
 162 A SERMON 
 
 bet, nee potest denegare gratiam, which indeed is 
 no less than a direct contradiction in the very terms ; 
 for if Deus debet, then id quod debetur non est 
 gratia ; there being a perfect inconsistency between 
 that which is of debt, and that which is of free gift. 
 And therefore leaving the non debet and the non 
 potest to those that can bind and loose the Almighty 
 at their pleasure: so much, I think, we may pro- 
 nounce safely in this matter, that the goodness and 
 mercy of God is such, that he never deserts a 
 sincere person, nor suffers any one that shall live 
 (even according to these measures of sincerity) up 
 to what he knows, to perish for want of any know- 
 ledge necessary, and what is more, sufficient to save 
 him. 
 
 If any one should here say, Were there then none 
 living up to these measures of sincerity amongst the 
 heathen? and if there were, did the goodness of 
 God afford such persons knowledge enough to save 
 them ? My answer is according to that of St. Paul, 
 I judge not those that are without the church: 
 they stand or fall to their own master : I have no- 
 thing to say of them. Secret things belong to God: 
 it becomes us to be thankful to God, and charitable 
 to men. 
 
 2. A pious and well-disposed will is the readiest 
 means to enlighten the understanding to a know- 
 ledge of the truth of Christianity, upon the account 
 of a natural efficiency ; forasmuch as a will so dis- 
 posed will be sure to engage the mind in a severe 
 search into the great and concerning truths of reli- 
 gion : nor will it only engage the mind in such a 
 search ; but it will also accompany that search with 
 two dispositions, directly tending to, and principally
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17. 163 
 
 productive of, the discoveries of truth ; namely, dili- 
 gence and impartiality. And, 
 
 (1.) For the diligence of the search. Diligence is 
 the great harbinger of truth ; which rarely takes up 
 in any mind till that has gone before, and made room 
 for it. It is a steady, constant, and pertinacious 
 study, that naturally leads the soul into the know- 
 ledge of that, which at first seemed locked up from 
 it. For this keeps the understanding long in con- 
 verse with an object : and long converse brings ac- 
 quaintance. Frequent consideration of a thing wears 
 off the strangeness of it ; and shews it in its several 
 lights, and various ways of appearance, to the view 
 of the mind. 
 
 Truth is a great strong hold, barred and fortified 
 by God and nature ; and diligence is properly the 
 understanding's laying siege to it : so that, as in a 
 kind of warfare, it must be perpetually upon the 
 watch '^observing all the avenues and passes to it, 
 and accordingly makes its approaches. Sometimes 
 it thinks it gains a point ; and presently again, it 
 finds itself baffled and beaten off: yet still it re- 
 news the onset ; attacks the difficulty afresh ; plants 
 this reasoning, and that argument, this consequence, 
 and that distinction, like so many intellectual bat- 
 teries, till at length it forces a way and passage into 
 the obstinate enclosed truth, that so long withstood 
 and defied all its assaults. 
 
 The Jesuits have a saying common amongst them, 
 touching the institution of youth, (in which their 
 chief strength and talent lies,) that vexatio dat intel- 
 lectum. As when the mind casts and turns itself 
 restlessly from one thing to another, strains this 
 power of the soul to apprehend, that to judge, an- 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A SERMON 
 
 other to divide, a fourth to remember ; thus tracing 
 out the nice and scarce observable difference of some 
 things, and the real agreement of others, till at 
 length it brings all the ends of a long and various 
 hypothesis together; sees how one part coheres 
 with and depends upon another; and so clears off 
 all the appearing contrarieties and contradictions 
 that seemed to lie cross and uncouth, and to make 
 the whole unintelligible. This is the laborious and 
 vexatious inquest, that the soul must make after 
 science. For truth, like a stately dame, will not be 
 seen, nor shew herself at the first visit, nor match 
 with the understanding upon an ordinary courtship 
 or address. Long and tedious attendances must be 
 given, and the hardest fatigues endured and di- 
 gested ; nor did ever the most pregnant wit in the 
 world bring forth any thing great, lasting, and con- 
 siderable, without some pain and travail, some pangs 
 and throes before the delivery. 
 
 Now all this, that I have said, is to shew the 
 force of diligence in the investigation of truth, and 
 particularly of the noblest of all truths, which is 
 that of religion. But then, as diligence is the great 
 discoverer of truth, so is the will the great spring of 
 diligence. For no man can heartily search after that 
 which he is not very desirous to find. Diligence is 
 to the understanding, as the whetstone to the razor; 
 but the will is the hand that must apply one to the 
 other. 
 
 What makes many men so strangely immerse 
 themselves, some in chymical, and some in mathe- 
 matical inquiries, but because they strangely love 
 the things they labour in ? Their intent study gives 
 them skill and proficiency, and their particular af-
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17- 165 
 
 fection to these kinds of knowledge puts them upon 
 such study. Accordingly let there be but the same 
 propensity and bent of will to religion, and there 
 will be the same sedulity and indefatigable industry 
 in men's inquiry into it. And then, in the natural 
 course of things, the consequent of a sedulous seek- 
 ing is finding, and the fruit of inquiry is informa- 
 tion. 
 
 (2.) A pious and well-disposed will gives not only 
 diligence, but also impartiality to the understanding, 
 in its search into religion, which is as absolutely ne- 
 cessary to give success to our inquiries into truth, 
 as the former ; it being scarce possible for that man 
 to hit the mark, whose eye is still glancing upon 
 something beside it. Partiality is properly the un- 
 derstanding's judging according to the inclination of 
 the will and affections, and not according to the ex- 
 act truth of things, or the merits of the cause before 
 it. Affection is still a briber of the judgment ; and 
 it is hard for a man to admit a reason against the 
 thing he loves, or to confess the force of an argu- 
 ment against an interest. 
 
 In this case, he prevaricates with his own under- 
 standing, and cannot seriously and sincerely set his 
 mind to consider the strength, to poise the weight, 
 and to discern the evidence of the clearest and best 
 argumentations, where they would conclude against 
 the darling of his desires. For still that beloved 
 thing possesses, and even engrosses him, and like a 
 coloured glass before his eyes casts its own colour 
 and tincture upon all the images and ideas of things 
 that pass from the fancy to the understanding ; and 
 so absolutely does it sway that, that if a strange 
 irresistible evidence of some unacceptable truth 
 
 M 3
 
 166 A SERMON 
 
 should chance to surprise and force reason to assent 
 to the premises, affection would yet step in at last, 
 and make it quit the conclusion. 
 
 Upon which account, Socinus and his followers 
 state the reason of a man's believing or embracing 
 Christianity upon the natural goodness or virtuous 
 disposition of his mind, which they sometimes call 
 naturalis probitas, and sometimes animus in virtu- 
 tern pronus. For, say they, the whole doctrine of 
 Christianity teaches nothing but what is perfectly 
 suitable to, and coincident with, the ruling princi- 
 ples, that a virtuous and well inclined man is acted 
 by ; and with the main interest that he proposes to 
 himself. So that as soon as ever it is declared to 
 such an one, he presently closes in, accepts, and 
 complies with it : as a prepared soil eagerly takes 
 in and firmly retains such seed or plants as particu- 
 larly agree with it. 
 
 With ordinary minds, such as much the greatest 
 part of the world are, it is the suitableness, not the 
 evidence of a truth, that makes it to be assented to. 
 And it is seldom that any thing practically con- 
 vinces a man, that does not please him first. If you 
 would be sure of him, you must inform and gratify 
 him too. But now, impartiality strips the mind of 
 prejudice and passion, keeps it right and even from 
 the bias of interest and desire, and so presents it like 
 a rasa tabula, equally disposed to the reception of 
 all truth. So that the soul lies prepared, and open to 
 entertain it, and prepossessed with nothing that can 
 oppose or thrust it out. For where diligence opens 
 the door of the understanding, and impartiality 
 keeps it, truth is sure to find both an entrance and 
 a welcome too.
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17- 167 
 
 And thus I have done with the fourth and last 
 general thing proposed, and proved by argument, 
 that a pious and well disposed mind, attended with 
 a readiness to obey the known will of God, is the 
 surest and best means to enlighten the understand- 
 ing to a belief of Christianity. 
 
 Now, from the foregoing particulars, by way of 
 use, we may collect these two things. 
 
 1. The true cause of that atheism, that scepti- 
 cism and cavilling at religion, that we see and 
 have cause to lament in too many in these days. It 
 is not from any thing weak or wanting in our reli- 
 gion, to support, and enable it to look the strongest 
 arguments, and the severest and most controlling 
 reason in the face : but men are atheistical, because 
 they are first vicious ; and question the truth of 
 Christianity, because they hate the practice. And 
 therefore, that they may seem to have some pretence 
 and celour to sin on freely, and to surrender up 
 themselves wholly to their sensuality, without any 
 imputation upon their judgment, and to quit their 
 morals, without any discredit to their intellectuals ; 
 they fly to several stale, trite, pitiful objections and 
 cavils, some against religion in general, and some 
 against Christianity in particular, and some against 
 the very first principles of morality, to give them 
 some poor credit and countenance in the pursuit of 
 their brutish courses. 
 
 Few practical errors in the world are embraced 
 upon the stock of conviction, but inclination : for 
 though indeed the judgment may err upon the ac- 
 count of weakness, yet where there is one error that 
 enters in at this door, ten are let into it through the 
 will : that, for the most part, being set upon those 
 
 M 4
 
 168 A SERMON 
 
 things, which truth is a direct obstacle to the enjoy- 
 ment of; and where both cannot be had, a man will 
 be sure to buy his enjoyment, though he pays down 
 truth for the purchase. For in this case, the further 
 from truth, the further from trouble : since truth 
 shews such an one what he is unwilling to see, and 
 tells him what he hates to hear. They are the same 
 beams that shine and enlighten, and are apt to 
 scorch too : and it is impossible for a man engaged 
 in any wicked way, to have a clear understanding of 
 it, and a quiet mind in it together. 
 
 But these sons of Epicurus, both for voluptuous- 
 ness and irreligion also, (as it is hard to support the 
 former without the latter,) these, I say, rest not here ; 
 but (if you will take them at their word) they must 
 also pass for the only wits of the age : though 
 greater arguments, I am sure, may be produced 
 against this, than any they can allege against the 
 most improbable article of Christianity. But here- 
 tofore the rate and standard of wit was very differ- 
 ent from what it is nowadays. No man was then 
 accounted a wit for speaking such things as deserved 
 to have the tongue cut out that spake them : nor 
 did any man pass for a philosopher, or a man of 
 depth, for talking atheistically : or a man of parts, 
 for employing them against that God that gave 
 them. For then the world was generally better in- 
 clined ; virtue was in so much reputation, as to be 
 pretended to at least. And virtue, whether in a 
 Christian or in an infidel, can have no interest to be 
 served either by atheism or infidelity. 
 
 For which cause, could we but prevail with the 
 greatest debauchees amongst us to change their 
 lives, we should find it no very hard matter to
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17. 169 
 
 change their judgments. For notwithstanding all 
 their talk of reason and philosophy, which (God 
 knows) they are deplorably strangers to ; and those 
 unanswerable doubts and difficulties, which, over 
 their cups or their coffee, they pretend to have 
 against Christianity; persuade but the covetous man 
 not to deify his money ; the proud man not to adore 
 himself; the lascivious man to throw off his lewd 
 amours ; the intemperate man to abandon his revels ; 
 and so for any other vice, that is apt to abuse and 
 pervert the mind of man ; and I dare undertake, that 
 all their giant-like objections against Christian reli- 
 gion shall presently vanish and quit the field. For 
 he that is a good man, is three quarters of his way 
 towards the being a good Christian, wheresoever he 
 lives, or whatsoever he is called. 
 
 2. In the next place, we learn from hence the 
 most effectual way and means of proficiency and 
 growth in the knowledge of the great and profound 
 truths of religion, and how to make us all not only 
 good Christians, but also expert divines. It is a 
 knowledge, that men are not so much to study, as to 
 live themselves into : a knowledge that passes into 
 the head through the heart. I have heard of some, 
 that in their latter years, through the feebleness of 
 their limbs, have been forced to study upon their 
 knees : and I think it might well become the young- 
 est and the strongest to do so too. Let them daily 
 and incessantly pray to God for his grace ; and if 
 God gives grace, they may be sure that knowledge 
 will not stay long behind : since it is the same spirit 
 and principle that purifies the heart, and clarifies the 
 understanding. Let all their inquiries into the deep 
 and mysterious points of theology be begun and car-
 
 170 A SERMON 
 
 ried on with fervent petitions to God ; that he would 
 dispose their minds to direct all their skill and 
 knowledge to the promotion of a good life, both in 
 themselves and others ; that he would use all their 
 noblest speculations, and most refined notions, only 
 as instruments, to move and set a work the great 
 principles of actions, the will and the affections ; 
 that he would convince them of the infinite vanity 
 and uselessness of all that learning, that makes not 
 the possessor of it a better man ; that he would keep 
 them from those sins that may grieve and provoke 
 his holy Spirit (the fountain of all true light and 
 knowledge,) to withdraw from them; and so seal 
 them up under darkness, blindness, and stupidity of 
 mind. For where the heart is bent upon, and held 
 under the power of, any vicious course, though Christ 
 himself should take the contrary virtue for his doc- 
 trine, and do a miracle before such an one's eyes, for 
 its application ; yet he would not practically gain his 
 assent, but the result of all would end in a non per- 
 suadebis etiamsi persuaseris. Few consider what 
 a degree of sottishness and confirmed ignorance men 
 may sin themselves into. 
 
 This was the case of the Pharisees. And no 
 doubt but this very consideration also gives us the 
 true reason and full explication of that notable and 
 strange passage of scripture, in Luke xvi. and the 
 last verse : That if men will not hear Moses and 
 the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though 
 one rose from the dead. That is, where a strong 
 inveterate love of sin has made any doctrine or pro- 
 position wholly unsuitable to the heart, no argu- 
 ment or demonstration, no nor miracle whatsoever, 
 shall be able to bring the heart cordially to close
 
 ON JOHN VII. 17. 171 
 
 with, and receive it. Whereas, on the contrary, if 
 the heart be piously disposed, the natural goodness 
 of any doctrine is enough to vouch for the truth of 
 it : for the suitableness of it will endear it to the 
 will, and by endearing it to the will, will naturally 
 slide it into the assent also. For in morals, as well 
 as in metaphysics, there is nothing really good, but 
 has a truth commensurate to its goodness. 
 
 The truths of Christ crucified are the Christian's 
 philosophy, and a good life is the Christian's logic ; 
 that great instrumental introductive art that must 
 guide the mind into the former. And where a long 
 course of piety, and close communion with God, has 
 purged the heart, and rectified the will, and made 
 all things ready for the reception of God's Spirit ; 
 knowledge will break in upon such a soul, like the 
 sun shining in his full might, with such a victorious 
 light, that nothing shall be able to resist it. 
 
 Ifjiow at length some should object here, that 
 from what has been delivered, it will follow, that 
 the most pious men are still the most knowing, 
 which yet seems contrary to common experience and 
 observation ; I answer, that as to all things directly 
 conducing, and necessary to salvation, there is no 
 doubt but they are so ; as the meanest common sol- 
 dier, that has fought often in an army, has a truer 
 and better knowledge of war, than he that has read 
 and writ whole volumes of it, but never was in any 
 battle. 
 
 Practical sciences are not to be learnt but in the 
 way of action. It is experience that must give 
 knowledge in the Christian profession, as well as in 
 all others. And the knowledge drawn from experi- 
 ence is quite of another kind from that which flows
 
 172 A SERMON ON JOHN VII. 17. 
 
 from speculation or discourse. It is not the opinion, 
 but the path of the just, that the wisest of men tells 
 us, shines more and more unto a perfect day. The 
 obedient, and the men of practice, are those sons of 
 light, that shall outgrow all their doubts and igno- 
 rances, that shall ride upon these clouds, and tri- 
 umph over their present imperfections, till persua- 
 sion pass into knowledge, and knowledge advance 
 into assurance, and all come at length to be com- 
 pleted in the beatific vision, and a full fruition of 
 those joys, which God has in reserve for them, whom 
 by his grace he shall prepare for glory. 
 
 To which God, infinitely wise, holy, and just, be 
 rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all 
 praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now 
 and for evermore. Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED 
 
 AT THE CONSECRATION OF A CHAPEL. 
 1667. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 AFTER the happy expiration of those times which had 
 reformed so many churches to the ground, and in which 
 men used to express their honour to God, and their allegi- 
 ance to their prince the same way, demolishing the palaces 
 of th one, and the temples of the other; it is now our 
 glory and felicity, that God has changed men's tempers 
 with the times, and made a spirit of building succeed a spi- 
 rit of pulling down : by a miraculous revolution, reducing 
 many from the head of a triumphant rebellion to their old 
 condition of masons, smiths, and carpenters, that in this ca- 
 pacity they might repair what, as colonels and captains, 
 they had ruined and defaced. 
 
 But still it is strange to see any ecclesiastical pile, not by 
 ecclesiastical cost and influence rising above ground ; espe- 
 cially in an age, in which men's mouths are open against the 
 church, but their hands shut towards it ; an age in which, 
 respecting the generality of men, we might as soon expect /' 
 stones to be made bread, as to be made churches. 
 
 But the more epidemical and prevailing this evil is, the 
 more honourable are those who stand and shine as excep- 
 tions from the common practice ; and may such places, built 
 for the divine worship, derive an honour and a blessing
 
 174 PREFACE. 
 
 upon the head of the builders, as great and lasting, as the 
 curse and infamy that never fails to rest upon the sacri- 
 legious violators of them ; and a greater, I am sure I need 
 not, I cannot wish. 
 
 Now the foundation of what I shall discourse, upon the 
 present subject and occasion, shall be laid in that place in
 
 PSALM Ixxxvii. 2. 
 
 God hath loved the gates ofSion, more than all the dwell- 
 ings of Jacob. 
 
 JL HE comparison here exhibited between the love 
 God bore to Sion, the great place of his solemn wor- 
 ship, and that which he bore to the other dwellings 
 of Israel, imports, as all other comparisons do in the 
 superior part of them, two things ; difference and 
 preeminence : and accordingly I cannot more com- 
 modiously and naturally contrive the prosecution of 
 these words, than by casting the sense of them into 
 these two propositions. 
 
 I. That God bears a different respect to places set 
 apart and consecrated to his worship, from what he 
 bears to all other places designed to the uses of com- 
 mon life'. 
 
 II. That God prefers the worship paid him in such 
 places, above that which is offered him in any other 
 places whatsoever. 
 
 I. As to the former of these, this difference of re- 
 spect, borne by God to such places, from what he 
 bears to others, may be evinced these three several 
 ways. 
 
 1. By those eminent interposals of Providence, 
 for the erecting and preserving of such places. 
 
 2. By those notable judgments shewn by God 
 upon the violators of them. 
 
 3. Lastly, by declaring the ground and reason, 
 why God shews such a different respect to those 
 places, from what he manifests to others. Of all 
 which in their order.
 
 176 A SERMON 
 
 1. First of all then, those eminent interposals of 
 the divine Providence for the erecting and preserv- 
 ing such places, will be one pregnant and strong ar- 
 gument to prove the difference of God's respect to 
 them, and to others of common use. 
 
 That Providence that universally casts its eye over 
 all the parts of the creation, is yet pleased more par- 
 ticularly to fasten it upon some. God made all the 
 world, that he might be worshipped in some parts of 
 the world ; and therefore in the first and most early 
 times of the church, what care did he manifest to 
 have such places erected to his honour! Jacob he 
 admonished by a vision, as by a messenger from hea- 
 ven, to build him an altar ; and then, what awe did 
 Jacob express to it ! How dreadful, says he, is this 
 place ! for surely it is no other than the house of 
 God. What particular inspirations were there upon 
 Aholiab to fit him to work about the sanctuary ! 
 The Spirit of God was the surveyor, director, and 
 manager of the whole business. But above all, how 
 exact and (as we may say with reverence) how nice 
 was God about the building of the temple ! David, 
 though a man of most intimate converse and ac- 
 quaintance with God, and one who bore a kingly 
 preeminence over others, no less in point of piety 
 than of majesty, after he had made 'such rich, such 
 vast, and almost incredible provision of materials for 
 the building of the temple ; yet because he had dipt 
 his hands in blood, though but the blood of God's 
 enemies, had the glory of that work took out of 
 them, and was not permitted to lay a stone in that 
 sacred pile ; but the whole work was entirely re- 
 served for Solomon, a prince adorned with those 
 parts of mind, and exalted by such a concurrence of
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 177 
 
 all prosperous events to make him glorious and 
 magnificent, as if God had made it his business to 
 build a Solomon, that Solomon might build him an 
 house. To which, had wot God bore a very different 
 respect from what he bore to all other places, why 
 might not David have been permitted to build God 
 a temple, as well as to rear himself a palace ? Why 
 might not he, who was so pious as to design, be also 
 so prosperous as to finish it ? God must needs have 
 set a more than ordinary esteem upon that which 
 David, the man after his own heart, the darling of 
 Heaven, and the most flaming example of a vigorous 
 love to God that ever was, was not thought fit to 
 have an hand in. 
 
 And to proceed, when after a long tract of time, 
 the sins of Israel had even unconsecrated and pro- 
 faned that sacred edifice, and thereby robbed it of 
 its only defence, the palladium of God's presence, so 
 that the Assyrians laid it even with the ground ; yet 
 after that a long captivity and affliction had made 
 the Jews fit again for so great a privilege, as a pub- 
 lic place to worship God in, how did God put it into 
 the heart, even of an heathen prince, to promote the 
 building of a second temple ! How was the work 
 undertook and carried on amidst all the unlikeli- 
 hoods and discouraging circumstances imaginable ! 
 The builders holding the sword in one hand, to de- 
 fend the trowel working with the other ; yet finished 
 and completed it was, under the conduct and pro- 
 tection of a peculiar providence, that made the in- 
 struments of that great design prevalent and victori- 
 ous, and all those mountains of opposition to become 
 plains before Zorobabel. 
 
 And lastly, when Herod the great, whose magni- 
 VOL. i. N
 
 178 A SERMON 
 
 ficence served him instead of piety to prompt him to 
 an action, if not in him religious, yet heroic at least, 
 thought fit to pull down that temple, and to build 
 one much more glorious, and fit for the Saviour 
 of the world to appear and preach in. Josephus, in 
 his 15th book of the Jewish Antiquities, and the 14th 
 chapter, says, that during all the time of its building, 
 there fell not so much as a shower to interrupt the 
 work, but the rain still fell by night, that it might 
 not retard the business of the day. If this were 
 so, I am not of the number of those who can as- 
 cribe such great and strange passages to chance, or 
 satisfy my reason in assigning any other cause of 
 this, but the kindness of God himself to the place of 
 his worship ; making the common influences of hea- 
 ven to stop their course, and pay a kind of homage 
 to the rearing of so sacred a structure. Though I 
 must confess, that David's being prohibited, and He- 
 rod permitted to build God a temple might seem 
 strange, did not the absoluteness of God's good plea- 
 sure satisfy all sober minds of the reasonableness of 
 God's proceedings, though never so strange and un- 
 accountable. 
 
 Add to all this, that the extraordinary manifesta- 
 tions of God's presence were still in the sanctuary : 
 the cloud, the Urim and Thummim, and the oracular 
 answers of God, were graces and prerogatives proper 
 and peculiar to the sacredness of this place. These 
 were the dignities that made it (as it were) the 
 presence-chamber of the Almighty, the room of au- 
 dience, where he declared that he would receive and 
 answer petitions from all places under heaven, and 
 where he displayed his royalty and glory. There 
 was no parlour or dining-room in all the dwellings
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 179 
 
 of Jacob, that he vouchsafed the like privileges to. 
 And moreover, how full are God's expressions to 
 this purpose ! Here have I placed my name, and 
 here will I dwell, for I have a delight therein. 
 
 But to evidence, how different a respect God 
 bears to things consecrated to his own worship, 
 from what he bears to all other things, let that one 
 eminent passage of Corah, Dathan, and Abiram, be 
 proof beyond all exception ; in which, the censers of 
 those wretches, who, I am sure, could derive no 
 sanctity to them from their own persons ; yet upon 
 this account, that they had been consecrated by the 
 offering incense in them, were, by God's special 
 command, sequestered from all common use, and ap- 
 pointed to be beaten into broad plates, and fastened 
 as a covering upon the altar, Numb. xvi. 38. The 
 censers of these sinners against their own souls, 
 let them make broad plates for a covering of the 
 altar :^for they offered them before the Lord, 
 therefore they are hallowed. It seems this one 
 single use left such an indelible sacredness upon 
 them, that neither the villainy of the persons, nor 
 the impiety of the design, could be a sufficient reason 
 to unhallow and degrade them to the same common 
 use that other vessels may be applied to. And the 
 argument holds equally good for the consecration of 
 places. The apostle would have no revelling, or 
 junketting upon the altar, which had been used, and 
 by that use consecrated to the celebration of a more 
 spiritual and divine repast. Have ye not houses to 
 eat and to drink in ? or despise ye the church of 
 God ? says St. Paul, 1 Cor. xi. 22. It would have 
 been no answer to have told the apostle, What ! is 
 not the church stone and wood as well as other 
 
 N 2
 
 180 A SERMON 
 
 buildings ? And is there any such peculiar sanctity 
 in this parcel of brick and mortar ? And must God, 
 who has declared himself no respecter of persons, 
 be now made a respecter of places ? No, this is the 
 language of a more spiritualized and refined piety 
 than the apostles and primitive Christians were ac- 
 quainted with. And thus much for the first argu- 
 ment, brought to prove the different respect that 
 God bears to things and places consecrated and set 
 apart to his own worship, from what he bears to 
 others. 
 
 2. The second argument for the proof of the same 
 assertion, shall be taken from those remarkable judg- 
 ments shewn by God, upon the violators of things 
 consecrated and set apart to holy uses. 
 
 A coal, we know, snatched from the altar once 
 fired the nest of the eagle, the royal and command- 
 ing bird ; and so has sacrilege consumed the families 
 of princes, broke sceptres, and destroyed kingdoms. 
 We read how the victorious Philistines were worsted 
 by the captivated ark, which foraged their country 
 more than a conquering army ; they were not able 
 to cohabit with that holy thing ; it was like a plague 
 in their bowels, and a curse in the midst of them ; 
 so that they were forced to restore their prey, and 
 to turn their triumphs into supplications. Poor 
 Uzzah for but touching the ark, though out of care 
 and zeal for its preservation, was struck dead with a 
 blow from heaven. He had no right to touch it, 
 and therefore his very zeal was a sin, and his care 
 an usurpation ; nor could the purpose of his heart 
 excuse the error of his hand. Nay, in the promul- 
 gation of the Mosaic law, if so much as a brute beast 
 touched the mountain, the bow of vengeance was
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 181 
 
 ready, and it was to be struck through with a dart, 
 and to die a sacrifice for a fault it could not under- 
 stand. 
 
 But to give some higher and clearer instances of 
 the divine judgments upon sacrilegious persons. In 
 1 Kings xiv. 26. we find Shishak king of Egypt 
 spoiling and robbing Solomon's temple, and that we 
 may know what became of him, we must take notice 
 that Josephus calls him Susac, and tells us that He- 
 rodotus calls him Sesostris ; and withal reports, that 
 immediately after his return from this very expedi- 
 tion, such disastrous calamities befell his family, that 
 he burnt two of his children himself; that his bro- 
 ther conspired against him ; and lastly, that his son, 
 who succeeded him, was struck blind, yet not so 
 blind (in his understanding at least) but that he 
 saw the cause of all these mischiefs ; and therefore, 
 to redeem his father's sacrilege, gave more and 
 richer things to temples, than his father had stolen 
 from them : though (by the way) it may seem to be 
 a strange method of repairing an injury done to the 
 true God, by adorning the temples of the false. See 
 the same sad effect of sacrilege in the great Nebu- 
 chadnezzar : he plunders the temple of God, and we 
 find the fatal doom that afterwards befell him; he 
 lost his kingdom, and by a new unheard of judg- 
 ment, was driven from the society and converse of 
 men, to table with the beasts, and to graze with 
 oxen ; the impiety and inhumanity of his sin making 
 him a fitter companion for them, than for those to 
 whom religion is more natural, than reason itself. 
 And since it was his unhappiness to transmit his 
 sin, together with his kingdom, to his son, while 
 
 N 3
 
 182 A SERMON 
 
 Belshazzar was quaffing in the sacred vessels of the 
 temple, which in his pride he sent for to abuse with 
 his impious sensuality, he sees his fatal sentence writ 
 by the finger of God in the very midst of his pro- 
 fane mirth. And he stays not long for the execu- 
 tion of it, that very night losing his kingdom and 
 his life too. And that which makes the story di- 
 rect for our purpose is, that all this comes upon him 
 for profaning those sacred vessels. God himself tells 
 us so much by the mouth of his prophet in Dan. v. 
 23. where this only sin is charged upon him, and 
 particularly made the cause of his sudden and utter 
 ruin. 
 
 These were violators of the first temple, and those 
 that profaned and abused the second sped no better. 
 And for this, take for instance that first-born of sin 
 and sacrilege, Antiochus ; the story of whose pro- 
 faning God's house you may read in the first book of 
 Maccabees, chap. i. And you may read also at large 
 what success he found after it, in the sixth chapter, 
 where the author tells us, that he never prospered 
 afterwards in any thing, but all his designs were 
 frustrated, his captains slain, his armies defeated; 
 and lastly, himself falls sick, and dies a miserable 
 death. And (which is most considerable as to the 
 present business) when all these evils befell him, his 
 own conscience tells him, that it was even for this, 
 that he had most sacrilegiously pillaged and invaded 
 God's house, 1 Maccab. vi. 12, 13. Now I remem- 
 ber, says he, the evils I did at Jerusalem, how I 
 took the vessels of gold and silver : I perceive 
 therefore, that for this cause these evils are come 
 upon me, and, behold, I perish for grief in a strange
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 183 
 
 land. The sinner's conscience is for the most part 
 the best expositor of the mind of God, under any 
 judgment or affliction. 
 
 Take another notable instance in Nicanor, who 
 purposed and threatened to burn the temple, 1 Mac- 
 cab, vii. 35. And a curse lights upon him pre- 
 sently after : his great army is utterly ruined, he 
 himself slain in it, and his head and right hand cut 
 off, and hung up before Jerusalem. Where two 
 things are remarkable in the text. 1. That he him- 
 self was first slain, a thing that does not usually be- 
 fall a general of an army. 2. That the Jews prayed 
 against him to God, and desired God to destroy Ni- 
 canor, for the injury done to his sanctuary only, 
 naming no sin else. And God ratified their prayers 
 by the judgment they brought down upon the head 
 of him, whom they prayed against. God stopped 
 his blasphemous mouth, and cut off his sacrilegious 
 hand^nd made them teach the world, what it was 
 for the most potent sinner under heaven to threaten 
 the almighty God, especially in his own house ; for 
 so was the temple. 
 
 But now, lest some should puff at these instances, 
 as being such as were under a different economy of 
 religion, in which God was more tender of the shell 
 and ceremonious part of his worship, and conse- 
 quently not directly pertinent to ours ; therefore to 
 shew that all profanation, and invasion of things sa- 
 cred, is an offence against the eternal law of nature, 
 and not against any positive institution after a time 
 to expire, we need not go many nations off, nor 
 many ages back, to see the vengeance of God upon 
 some families, raised upon the ruins of churches, 
 and enriched with the spoils of sacrilege, gilded with 
 
 N 4
 
 184 A SERMON 
 
 the name of reformation. And for the most part, 
 so unhappy have been the purchasers of church 
 lands, that the world is not now to seek for an ar- 
 gument from a long experience to convince it, that 
 though in such purchases men have usually the 
 cheapest penny-worths, yet they have not always 
 the best bargains. For the holy thing has stuck fast 
 to their sides like a fatal shaft, and the stone has 
 cryed out of the consecrated walls they have lived 
 within, for a judgment upon the head of the sacrile- 
 gious intruder ; and Heaven has heard the cry, and 
 made good the curse. So that when the heir of a 
 blasted family has rose up and promised fair, and 
 perhaps flourished for some time upon the stock of 
 excellent parts and great favour ; yet at length a 
 cross event has certainly met and stopped him in the 
 career of his fortunes ; so that he has ever after 
 withered and declined, and in the end come to 
 nothing, or to that which is worse. So certainly 
 does that, which some call blind superstition, take 
 aim when it shoots a curse at the sacrilegious person. 
 But I shall not engage in the odious task of re- 
 counting the families which this sin has blasted 
 with a curse. Only, I shall give one eminent in- 
 stance in some persons who had sacrilegiously pro- 
 cured the demolishing of some places consecrated 
 to holy uses. 
 
 And for this (to shew the world that Papists can 
 commit sacrilege as freely as they can object it to 
 Protestants) it shall be in that great cardinal and 
 minister of state, Wolsey, who obtained leave of 
 pope Clement the seventh to demolish forty religious 
 houses ; which he did by the service of five men, to 
 whose conduct he committed the effecting of that
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 185 
 
 business ; every one of which came to a sad and fa- 
 tal end. For the pope himself was ever after an un- 
 fortunate prince, Rome being twice taken and sacked 
 in his reign, himself taken prisoner, and at length 
 dying a miserable death. Wolsey (as is known) 
 incurred a premunire., forfeited his honour, estate, 
 and life, which he ended, some say, by poison ; but 
 certainly in great calamity. 
 
 And for the five men employed by him, two of 
 them quarrelled, one of which was slain, and the 
 other hanged for it ; the third drowned himself in a 
 well ; the fourth (though rich) came at length to 
 beg his bread ; and the fifth was miserably stabbed 
 to death at Dublin in Ireland. 
 
 This was the tragical end of a knot of sacrilegious 
 persons from highest to lowest. The consideration 
 of which and the like passages, one would think, 
 should make men keep their fingers off from the 
 churches patrimony, though not out of love to the 
 church, (which few men have,) yet at least out of 
 love to themselves, which, I suppose, few want. 
 
 Nor is that instance in one of another religion to 
 be passed over, (so near it is to the former passage 
 of Nicanor,) of a commander in the parliament's re- 
 bel army, who, coming to rifle and deface the cathe- 
 dral at Litchfield, solemnly at the head of his troops 
 begged of God to shew some remarkable token of 
 his approbation or dislike of the work they were 
 going about. Immediately after which, looking out 
 at a window, he was shot in the forehead by a deaf 
 and dumb man. And this was on St. Chadd's day, 
 the name of which saint that church bore, being 
 dedicated to God in memory of the same. Where 
 we see, that as he asked of God a sign, so God gave
 
 186 A SERMON 
 
 him one, signing him in the forehead, and that with 
 such a mark, as he is like to be known by to all 
 posterity. 
 
 There is nothing that the united voice of all his- 
 tory proclaims so loud, as the certain unfailing curse 
 that has pursued and overtook sacrilege. Make a 
 catalogue of all the prosperous sacrilegious persons 
 that have been from the beginning of the world to 
 this day, and I believe they will come within a very 
 narrow compass, and be repeated much sooner than 
 the alphabet. 
 
 Religion claims a great interest in the world, even 
 as great as its object, God, and the souls of men. 
 And since God has resolved not to alter the course 
 of nature, and upon principles of nature, religion 
 will scarce be supported without the encouragement 
 of the ministers of it ; Providence, where it loves a 
 nation, concerns itself to own and assert the interest 
 of religion, by blasting the spoilers of religious per- 
 sons and places. Many have gaped at the church 
 revenues, but, before they could swallow them, have 
 had their mouths stopt in the churchyard. 
 
 And thus much for the second argument, to prove 
 the different respect that God bears to things conse- 
 crated to holy uses ; namely, his signal judgments 
 upon the sacrilegious violators of them. 
 
 3. I descend now to the third and last thing pro- 
 posed for the proof of the first proposition, which is, 
 to assign the ground and reason, why God shews 
 such a concern for these things. Touching which 
 we are to observe, (1.) Negatively, that it is no 
 worth or sanctity naturally inherent in the things 
 themselves, that either does or can procure them 
 this esteem from God; for by nature all things
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 187 
 
 have an equally common use. Nature freely and in- 
 differently opens the bosom of the universe to all 
 mankind; and the very sanctum sanctorum had 
 originally no more sacredness in it, than the valley 
 of the son of Hinnom, or any other place in Judea. 
 (2.) Positively therefore, the sole ground and reason 
 of this different esteem vouchsafed by God to conse- 
 crated things and places, is this, that he has the sole 
 property of them. 
 
 It is a known maxim, that in Deo sunt jura 
 omnia ; and consequently, that he is the proprietor 
 of all things, by that grand and transcendent right 
 founded upon creation. Yet notwithstanding he 
 may be said to have a greater, because a sole pro- 
 perty in some things, for that he permits not the 
 use of them to men, to whom yet he has granted the 
 free use of all other things. Now this property 
 may be founded upon a double ground. 
 
 First, God's own fixing upon, and institution of, a 
 place or thing to his pecuUar use. When he shall 
 say to the sons of men, as he spoke to Adam con- 
 cerning the forbidden fruit, Of all things and places 
 that I have enriched the universe with, you may 
 freely make use for your own occasions ; but as for 
 this spot of ground, this person, this thing, I have 
 selected and appropriated, I have enclosed it to my- 
 self and my own use ; and I will endure no sharer, 
 no rival, or companion in it : he that invades them, 
 usurps, and shall bear the guilt of his usurpation. 
 Now, upon this account, the gates of Sion, and the 
 tribe of Levi, became God's property. He laid his 
 hand upon them, and said, These are mine. 
 
 Secondly, The other ground of God's sole property
 
 188 A SERMON 
 
 in any thing or place, is the gift, or rather the return 
 of it made by man to God; by which act he re- 
 linquishes and delivers back to God all his right to 
 the use of that thing, which before had been freely 
 granted him by God. After which donation, there 
 is an absolute change and alienation made of the 
 property of the thing given, and that as to the use 
 of it too ; which being so alienated, a man has no 
 more to do with it, than with a thing bought with 
 another's money, or got with the sweat of another's 
 brow. 
 
 And this is the ground of God's sole property in 
 things, persons, and places, now under the gospel. 
 Men by free gift consign over a place to the divine 
 worship, and thereby have no more right to apply 
 it to another use, than they have to make use of 
 another man's goods. He that has devoted himself 
 to the service of God in the Christian priesthood, 
 has given himself to God, and so can no more dis- 
 pose of himself to another employment, than he can 
 dispose of a thing that he has sold or freely given 
 away. Now in passing a thing away to another by 
 deed of gift, two things are required : 
 
 1. A surrender on the giver's part, of all the pro- 
 perty and right he has in the thing given. And to 
 the making of a thing or place sacred, this surrender 
 of it, by its right owner, is so necessary, that all the 
 rites of consecration used upon a place against the 
 owner's will, and without his giving up his property, 
 make not that place sacred, forasmuch as the pro- 
 perty of it is not hereby altered ; and therefore says 
 the canonist, Qui sine voluntate Domini consecrat, 
 revera desecrat. The like judgment passed that
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 189 
 
 learned Bishop Synesius upon a place so consecrated. 
 Oi$' lepov ov$ [AW ocriov yyovfjicu. I account it not, says 
 he, for any holy thing'. 
 
 For we must know, that consecration makes not 
 a place sacred, any more than coronation makes a 
 king, but only solemnly declares it so. It is the gift 
 of the owner of it to God, which makes it to be 
 solely God's, and consequently sacred ; after which, 
 every violation of it is as really sacrilege, as to con- 
 spire against the king is treason before the solemn- 
 ity of his coronation. And moreover, as consecra- 
 tion makes not a thing sacred without the owner's 
 gift, so the owner's gift of itself alone makes a thing 
 sacred, without the ceremonies of consecration ; for 
 we know that tythes and lands given to God are 
 never, and plate, vestments, and other sacred uten- 
 sils are seldom consecrated : yet certain it is, that 
 after the donation of them to the church, it is as 
 really -sacrilege to steal or alienate them from those 
 sacred uses, to which they were dedicated by the 
 donors, as it is to pull down a church, or turn it into 
 a stable. 
 
 2. As in order to the passing away a thing by gift, 
 there is required a surrender of all right to it on his 
 part that gives, so there is required also an accepta- 
 tion of it on his part to whom it is given. For 
 giving being a relative action ; (and so requiring a 
 correlative to answer it ;) giving on one part trans- 
 fers no property, unless there be an accepting on the 
 other ; for as volenti nonfit injuria, so in this case 
 nolenti nonfit beneficium. 
 
 And if it be now asked, how God can be said to 
 accept what we give, since we are not able to 
 transact with him in person ? To this I answer,
 
 190 A SERMON 
 
 1. That we may and do converse with God in per- 
 son really, and to all the purposes of giving and re- 
 ceiving, though not visibly : for natural reason will 
 evince, that God will receive testimonies of honour 
 from his creatures ; amongst which, the homage of 
 offerings, and the parting with a right, is a very 
 great one. And where a gift is suitable to the per- 
 son to whom it is offered, and no refusal of it testi- 
 fied ; silence in that case (even amongst those who 
 transact visibly and corporally with one another) is, 
 by the general voice of reason, reputed an accept- 
 ance. And therefore much more ought we to con- 
 clude that God accepts of a thing suitable for him to 
 receive, and for us to give, where he does not declare 
 his refusal and disallowance of it. But, 2. 1 add fur- 
 ther, that we may transact with God in the person 
 of his and Christ's substitute, the bishop, to whom 
 the deed of gift ought, and uses to be delivered by 
 the owner of the thing given, in a formal instrument 
 signed, sealed, and legally attested by witnesses, 
 wherein he resigns up all his right and property in 
 the thing to be consecrated. And the bishop is as 
 really vicarius Christi to receive this from us in 
 Christ's behalf, as the Levitical priest was vicarius 
 Dei to the Jews, to manage all transactions between 
 God and them. 
 
 These two things therefore concurring, the gift of 
 the owner, and God's acceptance of it, either imme- 
 diately by himself, which we rationally presume, or 
 mediately by the hands of the bishop, which is visibly 
 done before us, is that which vests the sole property 
 of a thing or place in God. If it be now asked, Of 
 what use then is consecration, if a thing were sacred 
 before it ? I answer, Of very much ; even as much
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 191 
 
 as coronation to a king, which confers no royal au- 
 thority upon him, but by so solemn a declaration of 
 it, imprints a deeper awe and reverence of it in the 
 people's minds, a thing surely of no small moment. 
 And, 2. The bishop's solemn benediction and pray- 
 ers to God for a blessing upon those who shall seek 
 him in such sacred places, cannot but be supposed a 
 direct and most effectual means to procure a bless- 
 ing from God upon those persons who shall address 
 themselves to him there, as they ought to do. And 
 surely, this also vouches the great reason of the epi- 
 scopal consecration. Add to this in the third place, 
 that all who ever had any awful sense of religion 
 and religious matters (whether Jews or Christians, 
 or even heathens themselves) have ever used solemn 
 dedications and consecrations of things set apart, and 
 designed for divine worship ; which surely could 
 never have been so universally practised, had not 
 right reason dictated the high expediency and great 
 use of such practices. 
 
 EusebiiiSj (the earliest church-historian,) in the 
 tenth book of his Ecclesiastical History, as also in 
 the Life of Constantine, speaks of these consecrations 
 of churches, as of things generally in use, and withal 
 sets down those actions particularly, of which they 
 consisted, styling them 0eo7rp7re?V eKKXyviaf 6e<r(*.c/vf, 
 laws or customs of the church becoming God. What 
 the Greek and Latin churches used to do, may be 
 seen in their pontificals, containing the set forms for 
 these consecrations ; though indeed (for these six or 
 seven last centuries) full of many tedious, superflu- 
 ous, and ridiculous fopperies ; setting aside all which, 
 if also our liturgy had a set form for the consecration 
 of places, as it has of persons, perhaps it would be
 
 192 A SERMON 
 
 nevertheless perfect. Now from what has been 
 above discoursed of the ground of God's sole pro- 
 perty in things set apart for his service, we come at 
 length to see how all things given to the church, 
 whether houses, or lands, or tythes, belong to church- 
 men. They are but usufructuarii, and have only 
 the use of these things, the property and fee remain- 
 ing wholly in God ; and consequently the alienating 
 of them is a robbing of God, Mai. iii. 8, 9- Ye are 
 cursed with a curse, for ye have robbed me, even 
 this whole nation, in tythes and offerings. If it 
 was God that was robbed, it was God also that was 
 the owner of what was took away in the robbery : 
 even our own common law speaks as much ; for so 
 says our Magna Charta, in the first' chapter, Concessi- 
 mus Deo quod ecclesia Anglicana libera erit, &c. 
 Upon which words, that great lawyer in his Insti- 
 tutes comments thus : When any thing is granted 
 for God, it is deemed in law to be granted to God ; 
 and whatsoever is granted to the church for his ho- 
 nour, and the maintenance of his service, is granted 
 for and to God. 
 
 The same also appears from those forms of ex- 
 pression, in which the donation of sacred things 
 usually ran. As Deo omnipotenti hac prcesente 
 charta donav'wnus, with the like. But most unde- 
 niably is this proved by this one argument : That in 
 case a bishop should commit treason or felony, and 
 thereby forfeit his estate with his life, yet the lands 
 of his bishopric become not forfeit, but remain still 
 in the church, and pass entire to his successor ; 
 which sufficiently shews that they were none of his. 
 
 It being therefore thus proved, that God is the 
 sole proprietor of all sacred things or places ; I sup-
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 193 
 
 pose his peculiar property in them is an abundantly 
 pregnant reason of that different respect that he 
 bears to them. For is not the meum, and the sepa- 
 rate property of a thing, the great cause of its en- 
 dearment amongst all mankind ? Does any one re- 
 spect a common, as much as he does his garden ? 
 or the gold that lies in the bowels of a mine, as 
 much as that which he has in his purse ? 
 
 I have now finished the first proposition drawn 
 from the words ; namely, that God bears a different 
 respect to places set apart and consecrated to his 
 worship, from what he bears to all other places de- 
 signed to the uses of common life : and ^teb shewn 
 the reason why he does so. I proceed J now to the 
 other proposition, which is, That God prefers the 
 worship paid him in such places, above that which is 
 offered him in any other places whatsoever. And 
 that for tjiese reasons : 
 
 1. Because such places are naturally apt to excite 
 a greater reverence and devotion in the discharge of 
 divine service, than places of common use. The 
 place properly reminds a man of the business of the 
 place, and strikes a kind of awe into the thoughts, 
 when they reflect upon that great an<|- sacred Ma- 
 jesty they use to treat and converse wit^Tthere. They 
 find the same holy consternation upjjn themselves 
 that Jacob did at his consecrated BeH!%l, which he 
 called the gate of heaven; and if such places are so, 
 .then surely a daily expectation at the gate is the 
 readiest way to gain admittance into the house. 
 
 It has been the advice of some spiritual persons, 
 that such as were able should set apart some certain 
 place in their dwellings for private devotions only, 
 which if they constantly performed there, and no- 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 A SERMON 
 
 thing else, their very entrance into it would tell 
 them what they were to do in it, and quickly make 
 their chamber-thoughts, their table-thoughts, and 
 their jolly, worldly, but much more their sinful 
 thoughts and purposes, fly out of their hearts. 
 
 For is there any man (whose heart has not shook 
 off all sense of what is sacred) who finds himself no 
 otherwise affected, when he enters into a church, 
 than when he enters into his parlour or chamber ? 
 If he does, for ought I know, he is fitter to be there 
 always than in a church. 
 
 The mind of man, even in spirituals, acts with a 
 corporeal dependence, and so is helped or hindered 
 in its operations, according to the different quality 
 of external objects that incur into the senses. And 
 perhaps sometimes the sight of the altar, and those 
 decent preparations for the work of devotion, may 
 compose and recover the wandering mind much 
 more effectually than a sermon, or a rational dis- 
 course. For these things in a manner preach to the 
 eye, when the ear is dull, and will not hear, and the 
 eye dictates to the imagination, and that at last 
 moves the affections. And if these little impulses 
 set the great wheels of devotion on work, the large- 
 ness and height of that shall not at all be prejudiced 
 by the smallness of its occasion. If the fire burns 
 bright and vigorously, it is no matter by what means 
 it was at first kindled ; there is the same force, and 
 the same refreshing virtue in it, kindled by a spark 
 from a flint, as if it were kindled by a beam from 
 the sun. 
 
 I am far from thinking that these external things 
 are either parts of our devotion, or by any strength 
 in themselves direct causes of it ; but the grace of
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 195 
 
 God is pleased to move us by ways suitable to our 
 nature, and to sanctify these sensible inferior helps 
 to greater and higher purposes. And since God has 
 placed the soul in a body, where it receives all 
 things by the ministry of the outward senses, he 
 would have us secure these cinque ports (as I may so 
 cah 1 them) against the invasion of vain thoughts, by 
 suggesting to them such objects as may prepossess 
 them with the contrary. For God knows, how hard 
 a lesson devotion is, if the senses prompt one thing, 
 when the heart is to utter another. And therefore 
 let no man presume to think that he may present 
 God with as acceptable a prayer in his shop, and 
 much less in an alehouse or a tavern, as he may in 
 a church or in his closet : unless he can rationally 
 promise himself (which is impossible) that he shall 
 find the same devout motions and impresses upon 
 his spirit there, that he may here. 
 
 WhaJ; says David, in Psalm Ixxvii. 13. Thy way, 
 O God, is in the sanctuary. It is no doubt, but 
 that holy person continued a strict and most pious 
 communion with God, during his wanderings upon 
 the mountains and in the wilderness ; but still he 
 found in himself, that he had not those kindly, 
 warm meltings upon his heart, those raptures and 
 ravishing transports of affection, that he used to 
 have in the fixed and solemn place of God's worship. 
 See the two first verses of the 63rd Psalm, enti- 
 tled, A psalm of David, when he was in the wil- 
 derness ofJudah. How emphatically and divinely 
 does every word proclaim the truth that I have been 
 speaking of! O God, says he, thou art my God; 
 early will I seek thee : my soul thirsteth for thee, 
 my flesh longethfor thee in a dry and thirsty land, 
 
 o 2
 
 196 A SERMON 
 
 where no water is ; to see thy power and thy glory, 
 so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary. Much 
 different was his wish from that of our nonconform- 
 ing zealots nowadays, which expresses itself in an- 
 other kind of dialect ; as, When shall I enjoy God 
 as I used to do at a conventicle? When shall I 
 meet with those blessed breathings, those heavenly 
 hummings and hawings, that I used to hear at a 
 private meeting, and at the end of a table ? 
 
 In all our worshippings of God, we return him 
 but what he first gives us ; and therefore he prefers 
 the service offered him in the sanctuary, because 
 there he usually vouchsafes more helps to the piously 
 disposed person, for the discharge of it. As we 
 value the same kind of fruit growing under one cli- 
 mate more than under another ; because under one 
 it has a directer and a warmer influence from the 
 sun, than under the other, which gives it both a bet- 
 ter savour and a greater worth. 
 
 And perhaps I should not want a further argu- 
 ment for the confirmation of the truth discoursed of, 
 if I should appeal to the experience of many in this 
 nation, who, having been long bred to the decent 
 way of divine service in the cathedrals of the church 
 of England, were afterwards driven into foreign 
 countries, where, though they brought with them 
 the same sincerity to church, yet perhaps they could 
 not find the same enlargements and flowings out of 
 spirit which they were wont to find here. Especially 
 in some countries, where their very religion smelt of 
 the shop; and their ruder and coarser methods of 
 divine service seemed only adapted to the genius of 
 trade and the designs of parsimony ; though one 
 would think, that parsimony in God's worship were
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 197 
 
 the worst husbandry in the world, for fear God 
 should proportion his blessings to such devotions. 
 
 2. The other reason, why God prefers a worship 
 paid him in places solemnly dedicated and set apart 
 for that purpose, is, because in such places it is a 
 more direct service and testification of our homage 
 to him. For surely, if I should have something to 
 ask of a great person, it were greater respect to wait 
 upon him with my petition at his own house, than 
 to desire him to come and receive it at mine. 
 
 Set places and set hours for divine worship, as 
 much as the laws of necessity and charity permit us 
 to observe them, are but parts of that due reverence 
 that we owe it : for he that is strict in observing 
 these, declares to the world, that he accounts his at- 
 tendance upon God his greatest and most important 
 business : and surely, it is infinitely more reasonable 
 that we should wait upon God, than God upon us. 
 
 We shall still find, that when God was pleased to 
 vouchsafe his people a meeting, he himself would 
 prescribe the place. When he commanded Abraham 
 to sacrifice his only and beloved Isaac, the place of 
 the offering was not left undetermined, and to the 
 offerer's discretion : but in Gen. xxii. 2. Get thee 
 into the land of Moriah, (says God ;) and offer him 
 for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains that 
 I shall tell thee of. 
 
 It was part of his sacrifice, not only what he 
 . should offer, but where. When we serve God in his 
 own house, his service (as I may so say) leads all our 
 other secular affairs in triumph after it. They are 
 all made to stoop and bend the knee to prayer, as 
 that does to the throne of grace. 
 
 Thrice a year were the Israelites from all, even 
 o 3
 
 198 A SERMON 
 
 the remotest parts of Palestine, to go up to Jerusa- 
 lem, there to worship, and pay their offerings at the 
 temple. The great distance of some places from 
 thence could not excuse the inhabitants from mak- 
 ing their appearance there, which the Mosaic law 
 exacted as indispensable. 
 
 Whether or no they had coaches, to the temple 
 they must go : nor could it excuse them to plead 
 God's omniscience, that he could equally see and 
 hear them in any place : nor yet their own good will 
 and intentions ; as if the readiness of their mind to 
 go, might, forsooth, warrant their bodies to stay at 
 home. Nor, lastly, could the real danger of leaving 
 their dwellings to go up to the temple excuse their 
 journey : for they might very plausibly and very ra- 
 tionally have alleged, that during their absence their 
 enemies round about them might take that advan- 
 tage to invade their land. And therefore, to obviate 
 this fear and exception, which indeed was built upon 
 so good ground, God makes them a promise, which 
 certainly is as remarkable as any in the whole book 
 of God, Exod. xxxiv. 24. / will cast out the na- 
 tions before thee ; neither shall any man desire thy 
 land, when thou shalt go up to appear before the 
 Lord thy God thrice in a year. While they were 
 appearing in God's house, God himself engages to 
 keep and defend theirs, and that by little less than a 
 miracle, putting forth an overpowering work and 
 influence upon the very hearts and wills of men, that 
 when their opportunities should induce, their hearts 
 should not serve them to annoy their neighbours. 
 
 For surely, a rich land, guardless and undefended, 
 must needs have been a double incitement, and such 
 an one as might not only admit, but even invite the
 
 ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 199 
 
 enemy. It was like a fruitful garden or a fair vine- 
 yard without an hedge, that quickens the appetite 
 to enjoy so tempting, and withal so easy a prize. 
 But the great God, by ruling men's hearts, could by 
 consequence hold their hands, and turn the very de- 
 sires of interest and nature out of their common 
 channel, to comply with the designs of his worship. 
 
 But now, had not God set a very peculiar value 
 upon the service paid him in his temple, surely he 
 would not have thus (as it were) made himself his 
 people's convoy, and exerted a supernatural work to 
 secure them in their passage to it. And therefore 
 that eminent hero in religion, Daniel, when in the 
 land of his captivity he used to pay his daily devo- 
 tions to God, not being able to go to the temple, 
 would at least look towards it, advance to it in wish 
 and desire ; and so, in a manner, bring the temple to 
 his prayers, when he could not bring his prayers to 
 that. 
 
 And now, what have I to do more, but to wish 
 that all this discourse may have that blessed effect 
 upon us, as to send us both to this and to all other 
 solemn places of divine worship, with those three ex- 
 cellent ingredients of devotion, desire, reverence, and 
 confidence ? 
 
 1. And first, for desire. We should come hither, 
 as to meet God in a place where he loves to meet 
 us : and where (as Isaac did to his sons) he gives us 
 blessings with embraces. Many frequent the gates 
 of Sion, but is it because they love them ; and not 
 rather because their interest forces them, much 
 against their inclination, to endure them ? 
 
 Do they hasten to their devotions with that ardour 
 and quickness of mind that they would to a lewd 
 play or a masquerade ?
 
 
 200 A SERMON ON PSALM LXXXVII. 2. 
 
 Or do they not rather come hither slowly, sit here 
 uneasily, and depart desirously? All which is but 
 too evident a sign, that men repair to the house of 
 God, not as to a place of fruition, but of task and 
 trouble, not to enjoy, but to afflict themselves. 
 
 2. We should come full of reverence to such sa- 
 cred places ; and where there are affections of reve- 
 rence, there will be postures of reverence too. With- 
 in consecrated walls, we #re more directly under 
 God's eye, who looks through and through every one 
 that appears before him, and is too jealous a God to 
 be affronted to his face. 
 
 3. And lastly ; God's peculiar property in such 
 places should give us a confidence in our addresses 
 to him here. Reverence and confidence are so far 
 from being inconsistent, that they are the most di- 
 rect and proper qualifications of a devout and filial 
 approach to God. 
 
 For where should we be so confident of a blessing, 
 as in the place and element of blessings ; the place 
 where God both promises and delights to dispense 
 larger proportions of his favour, even for this pur- 
 pose, that he may fix a mark of honour upon his 
 sanctuary ; and so recommend and endear it to the 
 sons of men, upon the stock of their own interest as 
 well as his glory ; who has declared himself the 
 high and the lofty One that inhabits eternity., and 
 dwells not in houses made with mens hands, yet is 
 pleased to be present in the assemblies of his 
 saints. 
 
 To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most 
 due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, 
 both now and for evermore. Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT WESTMINSTER-ABBEY, 
 
 FEBRUARY 22, 1684-5. 
 
 PROV. xvi. 33. 
 
 The lot is cast Into the lap; but the whole disposing of it 
 is of the Lord. 
 
 I CANNOT think myself engaged from these words 
 to discourse of lots, as to their nature, use, and al- 
 lowableness; and that not only in matters of moment 
 and business, but also of recreation ; which latter is 
 indeed impugned by some, though better defended 
 by others ; but- 1 shall fix only upon the design of 
 the words, which seems to be a declaration of a di- 
 vine perfection by a signal instance ; a proof of the 
 exactness and universality of God's providence from 
 its influence upon a thing, of all others, the most 
 casual and fortuitous, such as is the casting of lots. 
 
 A lot is properly a casual event, purposely applied 
 to the determination of some doubtful thing. 
 
 Some there are, who utterly proscribe the name 
 of chance, as a word of impious and profane signifi- 
 cation ; and indeed, if it be taken by us in that 
 sense in which it was used by the heathen, so as to 
 make any thing casual in respect of God himself, 
 their exception ought justly to be admitted. But
 
 202 A SERMON 
 
 to say a thing is a chance, or casualty, as it relates 
 to second causes, is not profaneness, but a great 
 truth; as signifying no more, than that there are 
 some events, besides the knowledge, purpose, ex- 
 pectation, and power of second agents. And for 
 this very reason, because they are so, it is the royal 
 prerogative of God himself, to have all these loose, 
 uneven, fickle uncertainties under his disposal. 
 
 The subject therefore, that from hence we are 
 naturally carried to the consideration of, is, the ad- 
 mirable extent of the divine Providence, in manag- 
 ing the most contingent passages of human affairs ; 
 which that we may the better treat of, we will con- 
 sider the result of a lot : 
 
 I. In reference to men. 
 
 II. In reference to God. 
 
 I. For the first of these, if we consider it as re- 
 lating to men, who suspend the decision of some du- 
 bious case upon it, so we shall find, that it naturally 
 implies in it these two things : 
 
 1. Something future. 2. Something contingent. 
 
 From which two qualifications these two things 
 also follow : 
 
 1. That it is absolutely out of the reach of man's 
 knowledge. 
 
 2. That it is equally out of his power. 
 
 This is most clear ; for otherwise, why are men 
 in such cases doubtful, and concerned, what the issue 
 and result should be? for no man doubts of what 
 he sees and knows ; nor is solicitous about the event 
 of that which he has in his power to dispose of to 
 what event he pleases. 
 
 The light of man's understanding is but a short, 
 diminutive, contracted light, and looks not beyond
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 203 
 
 the present : he knows nothing future, but as it has 
 some kind of presence in the stable, constant man- 
 ner of operation belonging to its cause ; by virtue of 
 which, we know, that if the fire continues for twenty 
 years, it will certainly burn so long ; and that there 
 will be summer, winter, and harvest, in their re- 
 spective seasons : but whether God will continue 
 the world till to-morrow or no, we cannot know by 
 any certain argument, either from the nature of 
 God or of the world. 
 
 But when we look upon such things as relate to 
 their immediate causes with a perfect indifference, 
 so that in respect of them they equally may or may 
 not be ; human reason can then, at the best, but 
 conjecture what will be. And in some things, as 
 here in the casting of lots, a man cannot, upon any 
 ground of reason, bring the event of them so much 
 as under conjecture. 
 
 The choice of man's will is indeed uncertain, be- 
 cause in many things free; but yet there are certain 
 habits and principles in the soul, that have some 
 kind of sway upon it, apt to bias it more one way 
 than another; so that, upon the proposal of an agree- 
 able object, it may rationally be conjectured, that a 
 man's choice will rather incline him to accept than 
 to refuse it. But when lots are shuffled together in 
 a lap, urn, or pitcher, or a man blindfold casts a die, 
 what reason in the world can he have to presume 
 that he shall draw a white stone rather than a 
 black, or throw an ace rather than a size ? Now, if 
 these things are thus out of the compass of a man's 
 knowledge, it will unavoidably follow, that they are 
 also out of his power. For no man can govern or 
 command that which he cannot possibly know ;
 
 204 A SERMON 
 
 since to dispose of a thing implies both a knowledge 
 of the thing to be disposed of, and of the end that it 
 is to be disposed of to. 
 
 And thus we have seen how a contingent event 
 baffles man's knowledge, and evades his power. 
 Let us now consider the same in respect of God; 
 and so we shall find that it falls under, 
 
 1. A certain knowledge. And 
 
 2. A determining providence. 
 
 1. First of all then, the most casual event of 
 things, as it stands related to God, is comprehended 
 by a certain knowledge. God, by reason of his eter- 
 nal, infinite, and indivisible nature, is, by one single 
 act of duration, present to all the successive por- 
 tions of time; and consequently to all things suc- 
 cessively existing in them : which eternal, indivisible 
 act of his existence, makes all futures actually pre- 
 sent to him ; and it is the presentiality of the object 
 which founds the unerring certainty of his know- 
 ledge. For whatsoever is known, is some*way or 
 other present ; and that which is present, cannot but 
 be known by him who is omniscient. 
 
 But I shall not insist upon these speculations ; 
 which when they are most refined serve only to 
 shew, how impossible it is for us to have a clear and 
 explicit notion of that which is infinite. Let it suf- 
 fice us in general to acknowledge and adore the 
 vast compass of God's omniscience. That it is a 
 light shining into every dark corner, ripping up all 
 secrets, and steadfastly grasping the greatest and 
 most slippery uncertainties. As when we see the 
 sun shine upon a river, though the waves of it move 
 and roll this way and that way by the wind; yet 
 for all their unsettledness, the sun strikes them with
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 205 
 
 a direct and a certain beam. Look upon things of 
 the most accidental and mutable nature, accidental 
 in their production, and mutable in their continu- 
 ance ; yet God's prescience of them is as certain in 
 him, as the memory of them is or can be in us. He 
 knows which way the lot and the die shall fall, as 
 perfectly as if they were already cast. All futurities 
 are naked before that all-seeing eye, the sight of 
 which is no more hindered by distance of time, than 
 the sight of an angel can be determined by distance 
 of place. 
 
 2. As all contingencies are comprehended by a 
 certain divine knowledge, so they are governed by 
 as certain and steady a providence. 
 
 There is no wandering out of the reach of this, 
 no slipping through the hands of omnipotence. 
 God's hand is as steady as his eye; and certainly 
 thus to reduce contingency to method, instability 
 and chance itself to an unfailing rule and order, ar- 
 gues such a mind as is fit to govern the world ; and 
 I am sure nothing less than such an one can. 
 
 Now God may be said to bring the greatest casu- 
 alties under his providence upon a twofold account. 
 
 (1.) That he directs them to a certain end. 
 
 (2.) Oftentimes to very weighty and great ends. 
 
 (1.) And first of all, he directs them to a certain 
 end. 
 
 Providence never shoots at rovers. There is an 
 arrow that flies by night as well as by day, and 
 God is the person that shoots it, who can aim then 
 as well as in the day. Things are not left to an 
 (equilibrium, to hover under an indifference whe- 
 ther they shall come to pass or not come to pass ; 
 but the whole train of events is laid beforehand, and
 
 206 A SERMON 
 
 all proceed by the rule and limit of an antecedent 
 decree : for otherwise, who could manage the affairs 
 of the world, and govern the dependance of one 
 event upon another, if that event happened at ran- 
 dom, and was not cast into a certain method and 
 relation to some foregoing purpose to direct it? 
 
 The reason why men are so short and weak in 
 governing is, because most things fall out to them 
 accidentally, and come not into any compliance with 
 their preconceived ends, but they are forced to com- 
 ply subsequently, and to strike in with things as 
 they fall out, by postliminious after-applications of 
 them to their purposes, or by framing their purposes 
 to them. 
 
 But now there is not the least thing that falls 
 within the cognizance of man, but is directed by the 
 counsel of God. Not an hair can fall from our 
 head, nor a sparrow to the ground, without the 
 will of our heavenly Father. Such an universal 
 superintendency has the eye and hand of Providence 
 over all, even the most minute and inconsiderable 
 things. 
 
 Nay, and sinful actions too are overruled to a cer- 
 tain issue; even that horrid villainy of the crucifixion 
 of our Saviour was not a thing left to the disposal of 
 chance and uncertainty; but in Acts ii. 23. it is 
 said of him, that he was delivered to the wicked 
 hands of his murderers, by the determinate counsel 
 and foreknowledge of God: for surely the Son of 
 God could not die by chance, nor the greatest thing 
 that ever came to pass in nature be left to an unde- 
 terminate event. Is it imaginable, that the great 
 means of the world's redemption should rest only in 
 the number of possibilities, and hang so loose in re-
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 207 
 
 spect of its futurition, as to leave the event in an 
 equal poise, whether ever there should be such a 
 thing or no ? Certainly the actions and proceedings 
 of wise men run in a much greater closeness and 
 coherence with one another, than thus to derive at a 
 casual issue, brought under no forecast or design. 
 The pilot must intend some port before he steers his 
 course, or he had as good leave his vessel to the 
 direction of the winds and the government of the 
 waves. 
 
 Those that suspend the purposes of God, and the 
 resolves of an eternal mind upon the actions of the 
 creature, and make God first wait and expect what 
 the creature will do, (and then frame his decrees 
 and counsels accordingly,) forget that he is the first 
 cause of all things, and discourse most unphiloso- 
 phically, absurdly, and unsuitably to the nature of 
 an infinite being ; whose influence in every motion 
 must set the first wheel a going. He must still be 
 the first agent, and what he does he must will and 
 intend to do before he does it, and what he wills 
 and intends once, he willed and intended from all 
 eternity ; it being grossly contrary to the very first 
 notions we have of the infinite perfection of the di- 
 vine nature, to state or suppose any new immanent 
 act in God. 
 
 The Stoics indeed held a fatality, and a fixed un- 
 alterable course of events ; but then they held also, 
 that they fell out by a necessity emergent from and 
 inherent in the things themselves, which God him- 
 self could not alter : so that they subjected God to 
 the fatal chain of causes, whereas they should have 
 resolved the necessity of all inferior events into the
 
 208 A SERMON 
 
 free determination of God himself; who executes 
 necessarily that which he first purposed freely. 
 
 In a word, if we allow God to be the governor of 
 the world, we cannot but grant, that he orders and 
 disposes of all inferior events ; and if we allow him 
 to be a wise and a rational governor, he cannot but 
 direct them to a certain end. 
 
 (2.) In the next place, he directs all these appear- 
 ing casualties, not only to certain, but also to very 
 great ends. 
 
 He that created something out of nothing, surely 
 can raise great things out of small; and bring all the 
 scattered and disordered passages of affairs into a 
 great, beautiful, and exact frame. Now this over- 
 ruling, directing power of God may be considered, 
 
 First, In reference to societies, or united bodies 
 of men. 
 
 Secondly, In reference to particular persons. 
 
 First. And first for societies. God and nature 
 do not principally concern themselves in the pre- 
 servation of particulars, but of kinds and companies. 
 Accordingly, we must allow Providence to be more 
 intent and solicitous about nations and governments 
 than about any private interest whatsoever. Upon 
 which account it must needs have a peculiar in- 
 fluence upon the erection, continuance, and dissolu- 
 tion of every society. Which great effects it is 
 strange to consider, by what small, inconsiderable 
 means they are oftentimes brought about, and those 
 so wholly undesigned by such as are the immediate 
 visible actors in them. Examples of this we have 
 both in holy writ, and also in other stories. 
 
 And first for those of the former sort.
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 209 
 
 Let us reflect upon that strange and unparalleled 
 story of Joseph and his brethren ; a story that seems 
 to be made up of nothing else but chances and 
 little contingencies, all directed to mighty ends. 
 For was it not a mere chance that his father Jacob 
 should send him to visit his brethren, just at that 
 time that the Ishmaelites were to pass by that way, 
 and so his unnatural brethren take occasion to sell 
 him to them, and they to carry him into Egypt ? 
 and then that he should be cast into prison, and 
 thereby brought at length to the knowledge of Pha- 
 raoh in that unlikely manner that he was ? Yet by 
 a joint connection of every one of these casual events, 
 Providence served itself in the preservation of a 
 kingdom from famine, and of the church, then cir- 
 cumscribed within the family of Jacob. Likewise 
 by their sojourning in Egypt, he made way for 
 their bondage there, and their bondage for a glorious 
 deliverance through those prodigious manifestations 
 of the divine power, in the several plagues inflicted 
 upon the Egyptians. It was hugely accidental, 
 that Joash king of Israel, being commanded by the 
 prophet to strike upon the ground, 2 Kings xiii. 
 should strike no oftener than just three times ; and 
 yet we find there, that the fate of a kingdom de- 
 pended upon it, and that his victories over Syria 
 were concluded by that number. It was very ca- 
 sual, that the Levite and his concubine should linger 
 so long, as to be forced to take up their lodging at 
 Gilieah, as we read in Judges xix. and yet we know 
 what a villainy was occasioned by it, and what a 
 civil war that drew after it, almost to the destruction 
 of a whole tribe. 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 A SERMON 
 
 And then for examples out of other histories, to 
 hint a few of them. 
 
 Perhaps there is none more remarkable, than that 
 passage about Alexander the great, in his famed 
 expedition against Darius. 
 
 When in his march towards him, chancing to 
 bathe himself in the river Cydnus, through the 
 excessive coldness of those waters, he fell sick near 
 unto death for three days ; during which short space 
 the Persian army had advanced itself into the strait 
 passages of Cilicia : by which means Alexander 
 with his small army was able to equal them under 
 those disadvantages, and to fight and conquer them. 
 Whereas had not this stop been given him by that 
 accidental sickness, his great courage and promptness 
 of mind would, beyond all doubt, have carried him 
 directly forward to the enemy, till he had met him 
 in the vast open plains of Persia, where his paucity 
 and small numbers would have been contemptible, 
 and the Persian multitudes formidable ; and, in all 
 likelihood of reason, victorious. So that this one 
 little accident of that prince's taking a fancy to bathe 
 himself at that time, caused the interruption of his 
 march, and that interruption gave occasion to that 
 great victory that founded the third monarchy of 
 the world. In like manner, how much of casualty 
 was there in the preservation of Romulus, as soon 
 as born exposed by his uncle, and took up and 
 nourished by a shepherd ! (for the story of the she r 
 wolf is a fable.) And yet in that one accident was 
 laid the foundation of the fourth universal mon- 
 archy. 
 
 How doubtful a case was it, whether Hannibal,
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. ill 
 
 after the battle of Cannae, should march directly to 
 Rome, or divert into Campania ! Certain it is, that 
 there was more reason for the former ; and he was 
 a person that had sometimes the command of reason, 
 as well as regiments : yet his reason deserted his 
 conduct at that time ; and by not going to Rome, he 
 gave occasion to those recruits of the Roman strength 
 that prevailed to the conquest of his country, and at 
 length to the destruction of Carthage itself, one of 
 the most puissant cities in the world. 
 
 And to descend to occurrences within our own 
 nation. How many strange accidents concurred in 
 the whole business of king Henry the eighth's di- 
 vorce ! yet we see Providence directed it and them 
 to an entire change of the affairs and state of the 
 whole kingdom. And surely, there could not be a 
 greater chance than that which brought to light 
 the powder treason, when Providence (as it were) 
 snatched a king and kingdom out of the very jaws 
 of death, only by the mistake of a word in the di- 
 rection of a letter. 
 
 But of all cases, in which little casualties produce 
 great and strange effects, the chief is in war ; upon 
 the issues of which hangs the fortune of states and 
 kingdoms. 
 
 Caesar, I am sure, whose great sagacity and con- 
 duct put his success as much out of the power of 
 chance, as human reason could well do ; yet upon 
 occasion of a notable experiment that had like to 
 have lost him his whole army at Dyrrachium, tells 
 us the power of it in the third book of his Commen- 
 taries, De JSello Civili : " Fortuna quae plurimum 
 " potest, cum in aliis rebus, turn praecipue in bello, 
 " in parvis momentis magnas rerum mutationes 
 
 P 2
 
 212 A SERMON 
 
 " efficit." Nay, and a greater than Caesar, even the 
 Spirit of God himself, in Eccies. vi. 11, expressly 
 declares, that the battle is not always to the strong. 
 So that upon this account every warrior may in 
 some sense be said to be a soldier of fortune ; and 
 the best commanders to have a kind of lottery for 
 their work, as, amongst us, they have for their reward. 
 For how often have whole armies been routed by a 
 little mistake, or a sudden fear raised in the soldiers' 
 minds, upon some trivial ground or occasion ! 
 
 Sometimes the misunderstanding of a word has 
 scattered and destroyed those who have been even in 
 possession of victory, and wholly turned the fortune 
 of the day. A spark of fire or an unexpected gust 
 of wind may ruin a navy. And sometimes a false, 
 senseless report has spread so far, and sunk so deep 
 into the people's minds, as to cause a tumult, and 
 that tumult a rebellion, and that rebellion has ended 
 in the subversion of a government. 
 
 And in the late war between the king and some 
 of his rebel subjects, has it not sometimes been at an 
 even cast, whether his army should march this way 
 or that way ? Whereas had it took that way, which 
 actually it did not, things afterwards so fell out, that 
 in very high probability of reason, it must have met 
 with such success, as would have put an happy issue 
 to that wretched war, and thereby have continued 
 the crown upon that blessed prince's head, and his 
 head upon his shoulders. Upon supposal of which 
 event, most of those sad and strange alterations that 
 have since happened would have been prevented; 
 the ruin of many honest men hindered, the punish- 
 ment of many great villains hastened, and the pre- 
 ferment of greater spoiled.
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 213 
 
 Many passages happen in the world, much like 
 that little cloud in 1 Kings xviii. that appeared at 
 first to Elijah's servant, no bigger than a man's 
 hand, but presently after grew and spread, and 
 blackened the face of the whole heaven, and then 
 discharged itself in thunder and rain, and a mighty 
 tempest. So these accidents, when they first happen, 
 seem but small and contemptible; but by degrees 
 they branch out, and widen themselves into such a 
 numerous train of mischievous consequences, one 
 drawing after it another, by a continued dependence 
 and multiplication, that the plague becomes victo- 
 rious and universal, and personal miscarriage de- 
 termines in a national calamity. 
 
 For who, that should view the small, despicable 
 beginnings of some things and persons at first, could 
 imagine or prognosticate those vast and stupendous 
 increases of fortune that have afterwards followed 
 them? ^ 
 
 Who, that had looked upon Agathocles first hand- 
 ling the clay, and making pots under his father, 
 and afterwards turning robber, could have thought, 
 that from such a condition, he should come to be 
 king of Sicily ? 
 
 Who, that had seen Masianello, a poor fisherman, 
 with his red cap and his angle, could have reckoned 
 it possible to see such a pitiful thing, within a week 
 after, shining in his cloth of gold, and with a word 
 or a nod absolutely commanding the whole city of 
 Naples ? 
 
 And who, that had beheld such a bankrupt, beg- 
 garly fellow as Cromwell, first entering the parlia- 
 ment house with a threadbare torn , cloak, and a 
 
 p 3
 
 214 A SERMON 
 
 greasy hat, (and perhaps neither of them paid for,) 
 could have suspected that in the space of so few 
 years, he should, by the murder of one king, and 
 the banishment of another, ascend the throne, be 
 invested in the royal robes, and want nothing of the 
 state of a king, but the changing of his hat into a 
 crown ? 
 
 It is (as it were) the sport of the Almighty, thus to 
 baffle and confound the sons of men by such events, 
 as both cross the methods of their actings, and sur- 
 pass the measure of their expectations. For accord- 
 ing to both these, men still suppose a gradual natu- 
 ral progress of things; as that from great, things 
 and persons should grow greater, till at length, 
 by many steps and ascents, they come to be at 
 greatest ; not considering, that when Providence 
 designs strange and mighty changes, it gives men 
 wings instead of legs ; and instead of climbing lei- 
 surely, makes them at once fly to the top and height 
 of greatness and power. So that the world about 
 them (looking up to those illustrious upstarts) scarce 
 knows who or whence they were, nor they them- 
 selves where they are. 
 
 It were infinite to insist upon particular instances ; 
 histories are full of them, and experience seals to the 
 truth of history. 
 
 In the next place, let us consider to what great 
 purposes God directs these little casualties, with re- 
 ference to particular persons ; and those either pub- 
 lic or private. 
 
 1. And first for public persons, as princes. Was it 
 not a mere accident, that Pharaoh's daughter met 
 with Moses ? Yet it was a means to bring him up in
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 215 
 
 the Egyptian court, then the school of all arts 
 and policy, and so to fit him for that great and ar- 
 duous employment that God designed him to. For 
 see upon what little hinges that great affair turned ; 
 for had either the child been cast out, or Pharaoh's 
 daughter come down to the river but an hour sooner 
 or later ; or had that little vessel not been cast by 
 the parents, or carried by the water, into that very 
 place where it was, in all likelihood the child must 
 have undergone the common lot of the other He- 
 brew children, and been either starved or drowned ; 
 or, however, not advanced to such a peculiar height 
 and happiness of condition. That Octavius Caesar 
 should shift his tent (which he had never used to do 
 before) just that very night that it happened to be 
 took by the enemy, was a mere casualty ; yet such 
 an one as preserved a person who lived to establish 
 a total alteration of government in the imperial city 
 of the world. 
 
 But we need not go far for a prince preserved by 
 as strange a series of little contingencies, as ever 
 were managed by the art of Providence to so great 
 a purpose. 
 
 There was but an hair's breadth between him and 
 certain destruction for the space of many days. 
 For had the rebel forces gone one way rather than 
 another, or come but a little sooner to his hiding- 
 place, or but mistrusted something which they passed 
 over, (all which things might very easily have hap- 
 pened ;) we had not seen this face of things at this 
 day ; but rebellion had been still enthroned, perjury 
 and cruelty had reigned, majesty had been pro- 
 scribed, religion extinguished, and both church and 
 
 p 4
 
 216 A SERMON 
 
 state throughly reformed and ruined with confu- 
 sions, massacres, and a total desolation. 
 
 On the contrary, when Providence designs judg- 
 ment or destruction to a prince, nobody knows by 
 what little, unusual, unregarded means the fatal 
 blow shall reach him. If Ahab be designed for 
 death, though a soldier in the enemy's army draws 
 a bow at a venture ; yet the sure, unerring directions 
 of Providence shall carry it in a direct course to his 
 heart, and there lodge the revenge of Heaven. 
 
 An old woman shall cast down a stone from a wall, 
 and God shall send it to the head of Abimelech, and 
 so sacrifice a king in the very head of his army. 
 
 How many warnings had Julius. Caesar of the fa- 
 tal ides of March ! Whereupon sometimes he re- 
 solved not to go to the senate, and sometimes again 
 he would go ; and when at length he did go, in his 
 very passage thither, one put into his hand a note of 
 the whole conspiracy against him, together with all 
 the names of the conspirators, desiring him to read 
 it forthwith, and to remember the giver of it as long 
 as he lived. But continual salutes and addresses 
 entertaining him all the way, kept him from saving 
 so great a life, but with one glance of his eye upon 
 the paper ; till he came to the fatal place where he 
 was stabbed, and died with the very means of pre- 
 venting death in his hand. 
 
 Henry the second of France, by a splinter, un- 
 happily thrust into his eye at a solemn justing, was 
 despatched and sent out of the world, by a sad, but 
 very accidental death. 
 
 In a word, God has many ways to reap down the 
 grandees of the earth ; an arrow, a bullet, a tile, a
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 217 
 
 stone from an house, is enough to do it : and besides 
 all these ways, sometimes, when he intends to be- 
 reave the world of a prince or an illustrious person, 
 he may cast him upon a bold, self-opinioned physi- 
 cian, worse than his distemper, who shall dose and 
 bleed, and kill him secundum artem, and make a 
 shift to cure him into his grave. 
 
 In the last place we will consider this directing 
 influence of God, with reference to private persons ; 
 and that, as touching things of nearest concernment 
 to them. As, 
 
 1. Their lives. 
 
 2. Their health. 
 
 3. Their reputation. 
 
 4. Their friendships. And, 
 
 5. And lastly, their employments or preferments. 
 And first for men's lives. Though these are 
 
 things for, which nature knows no price or ransom ; 
 yet I appeal to universal experience, whether they 
 have not, in many men, hung oftentimes upon a 
 very slender thread, and the distance between them 
 and death been very nice, and the escape wonderful. 
 There have been some, who upon a slight, and per- 
 haps groundless occasion, have gone out of a ship, or 
 house, and the ship has sunk, and the house has fell 
 immediately after their departure. 
 
 He that, in a great wind, suspecting the strength 
 of his house, betook himself to his orchard, and 
 walking there, was knocked on the head by a tree, 
 falling through the fury of a sudden gust, wanted 
 but the advance of one or two steps, to have put 
 him out of the way of that mortal blow. 
 
 He that being subject to an apoplexy, used still to 
 carry his remedy about him ; but, upon a time,
 
 218 A SERMON 
 
 shifting his clothes, and not taking that with him, 
 chanced, upon that very day, to be surprised with a 
 fit, and to die in it, certainly owed his death to a 
 mere accident, to a little inadvertency and failure of 
 memory. But not to recount too many particulars : 
 may not every soldier, that comes alive out of the 
 battle, pass for a living monument of a benign 
 chance, and a happy providence ? For was he not in 
 the nearest neighbourhood to death? And might 
 not the bullet, that perhaps razed his cheek, have 
 as easily gone into his head ? And the sword that 
 glanced upon his arm, with a little diversion have 
 found the way to his heart ? But the workings of 
 Providence are marvellous, and the methods secret 
 and untraceable, by which it disposes of the lives of 
 men. 
 
 In like manner, for men's health, it is no less 
 wonderful to consider to what strange casualties 
 many sick persons oftentimes owe their recovery. 
 Perhaps an unusual draught or morsel, or some ac- 
 cidental violence of motion, has removed that ma- 
 lady, that for many years has baffled the skill of all 
 physicians. So that, in effect, he is the best physi- 
 cian that has the best luck ; he prescribes, but it is 
 chance that cures. 
 
 That person that (being provoked by excessive 
 pain) thrust his dagger into his body, and thereby, 
 instead of reaching his vitals, opened an imposthume, 
 the unknown cause of all his pain, and so stabbed 
 himself into perfect health and ease, surely had great 
 reason to acknowledge Chance for his chirurgeon, 
 and Providence for the guider of his hand. 
 
 And then also for men's reputation ; and that ei- 
 ther in point of wisdom or of wit. There is hardly
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 219 
 
 any thing, which (for the most part) falls under a 
 greater chance. If a man succeeds in any attempt, 
 though undertook with never so much folly and 
 rashness, his success shall vouch him a politician ; 
 and good luck shall pass for deep contrivance : for 
 give any one fortune, and he shall be thought a wise 
 man, in spite of his heart ; nay, and of his head too. 
 On the contrary, be a design never so artificially 
 laid, and spun in the finest thread of policy, if it 
 chances to be defeated by some cross accident, the 
 man is then run down by an universal vogue ; his 
 counsels are derided, his prudence questioned, and 
 his person despised. 
 
 Ahithophel was as great an oracle, and gave as 
 good counsel to Absalom, as ever he had given to 
 David ; but not having the good luck to be believed, 
 and thereupon losing his former repute, he thought 
 it high time to hang himself. And, on the other 
 side, there have been some, who for several years 
 have been fools with tolerable good reputation, and 
 never discovered themselves to be so, till at length 
 they attempted to be knaves also, but wanted art 
 and dexterity. 
 
 And as the repute of wisdom, so that of wit also, 
 is very casual. Sometimes a lucky saying, or a per- 
 tinent reply, has procured an esteem of wit, to per- 
 sons otherwise very shallow, and no ways accustomed 
 to utter such things by any standing ability of mind ; 
 so that if such an one should have the ill hap at any 
 time to strike a man dead with a smart saying, it 
 ought, in all reason and conscience, to be judged but 
 a chance-medley : the poor man (God knows) being 
 no way guilty of any design of wit. 
 
 Nay, even where there is a real stock of wit, yet
 
 220 A SERMON 
 
 the wittiest sayings and sentences will be found in a 
 great measure the issues of chance, and nothing else 
 but so many lucky hits of a roving fancy. 
 
 For cbnsult the acutest poets and speakers, and 
 they will confess that their quickest and most ad- 
 mired conceptions were such as darted into their 
 minds like sudden flashes of lightning, they knew 
 not how, nor whence ; and not by any certain conse- 
 quence or dependence of one thought upon another, 
 as it is in matters of ratiocination. 
 
 Moreover, sometimes a man's reputation rises or 
 falls as his memory serves him in a performance; 
 and yet there is nothing more fickle, slippery, and 
 less under command, than this faculty. So that 
 many, having used their utmost diligence to secure 
 a faithful retention of the things or words committed 
 to it, yet after all cannot certainly know where it 
 will trip, and fail them. Any sudden diversion of 
 the spirits, or the justling in of a transient thought, 
 is able to deface those little images of things ; and 
 so breaking the train that was laid in the mind, to 
 leave a man in the lurch. And for the other part 
 of memory, called reminiscence, which is the retriev- 
 ing of a thing, at present forgot, or but confusedly 
 remembered, by setting the mind to hunt over all 
 its notions, and to ransack every little cell of the 
 brain. While it is thus busied, how accidentally 
 oftentimes does the thing sought for offer itself to 
 the mind ! And by what small, petit hints, does the 
 mind catch hold of, and recover a vanishing notion ! 
 
 In short, though wit and learning are certain and 
 habitual perfections of the mind, yet the declaration 
 of them (which alone brings the repute) is subject to 
 a thousand hazards. So that every wit runs some-
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 221 
 
 thing the same risk with the astrologer, who, if his 
 predictions come to pass, is cried up to the stars 
 from whence he pretends to draw them ; but if not, 
 the astrologer himself grows more out of date than 
 his almanack. 
 
 And then, in the fourth place, for the friendships 
 or enmities that a man contracts in the world ; than 
 which surely there is nothing that has a more direct 
 and potent influence upon the whole course of a 
 man's life, whether as to happiness or misery ; yet 
 chance has the ruling stroke in them all. 
 
 A man by mere peradventure lights into company, 
 possibly is driven into an house by a shower of rain 
 for present shelter, and there begins an acquaintance 
 with a person ; which acquaintance and endearment 
 grows and continues, even when relations fail, and 
 perhaps proves the support of his mind and of his 
 fortunes to his dying day. 
 
 And the like holds in enmities, which come much 
 more easily than the other. A word unadvisedly 
 spoken on the one side, or misunderstood on the 
 other ; any the least surmise of neglect ; sometimes 
 a bare gesture ; nay, the very unsuitableness of one 
 man's aspect to another man's fancy, has raised such 
 an aversion to him, as in time has produced a perfect 
 hatred of him ; and that so strong and so tenacious, 
 that it has never left vexing and troubling him, till 
 perhaps at length it has worried him to his grave ; 
 yea, and after death too, has pursued him in his sur- 
 viving shadow, exercising the same tyranny upon 
 his very name and memory. 
 
 It is hard to please men of some tempers, who in- 
 deed hardly know what will please themselves ; and 
 yet if a man does not please them, which it is ten
 
 222 A SERMON 
 
 thousand to one if he does, if they can but have 
 power equal to their malice, (as sometimes, to plague 
 the world, God lets them have,) such an one must 
 expect all the mischief that power and spite, light- 
 ing upon a base mind, can possibly do him. 
 
 In the last place. As for men's employments and 
 preferments, every man that sets forth into the 
 world, comes into a great lottery, and draws some 
 one certain profession to act, and live by, but knows 
 not the fortune that will attend him in it. 
 
 One man perhaps proves miserable in the study 
 of the law, who might have flourished in that of 
 physic or divinity. Another runs his head against 
 the pulpit, who might have been very serviceable to 
 his country at the plough. And a third proves a 
 very dull and heavy philosopher, who possibly would 
 have made a good mechanic, and have done well 
 enough at the useful philosophy of the spade or the 
 anvil. 
 
 Now let this man reflect upon the time when all 
 these several callings and professions were equally 
 offered to his choice, and consider how indifferent it 
 was once for him to have fixed upon any one of 
 them, and what little accidents and considerations 
 cast the balance of his choice, rather one way than 
 the other ; and he will find how easily chance may 
 throw a man upon a profession, which all his dili- 
 gence cannot make him fit for. 
 
 And then for the preferments of the world, he that 
 would reckon up all the accidents that they depend 
 upon, may as well undertake to count the sands, or 
 to sum up infinity ; so that greatness, as well as an 
 estate, may, upon this account, be properly called a 
 man's fortune, forasmuch as no man can state either
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 223 
 
 the acquisition or preservation of it upon any cer- 
 tain rules : every man, as well as the merchant, 
 being here truly an adventurer. For the ways by 
 which it is obtained are various, and frequently con- 
 trary : one man, by sneaking and flattering, comes 
 to riches and honour, (where it is in the power of 
 fools to bestow them,) upon observation whereof, an- 
 other presently thinks to arrive to the same great- 
 ness by the very same means ; but striving like the 
 ass, to court his master, just as the spaniel had done 
 before him, instead of being stroked and made much 
 of, he is only rated off and cudgelled for all his 
 courtship. 
 
 The source of men's preferments is most com- 
 monly the will, humour, and fancy of persons in 
 power ; whereupon, when a prince or grandee mani- 
 fests a liking to such a thing, such an art, or such a 
 pleasure, men generally set about to make themselves 
 considerable for such things, and thereby, through 
 his favour, to advance themselves ; and at length, 
 when they have spent their whole time in them, and 
 so are become fit for nothing else, that prince or 
 grandee perhaps dies, and another succeeds him, 
 quite of a different disposition, and inclining him to 
 be pleased with quite different things. Whereupon 
 these men's hopes, studies, and expectations, are 
 wholly at an end. And besides, though the grandee 
 whom they build upon should not die, or quit the 
 stage, yet the same person does not always like the 
 same things. For age may alter his constitution, 
 humour, or appetite ; or the circumstances of his af- 
 fairs may put him upon different courses and coun- 
 sels ; every one of which accidents wholly alters the 
 road to preferment. So that those who travel that
 
 224 A SERMON 
 
 road must be (like highwaymen) very dexterous in 
 shifting the way upon every turn; and yet their very 
 doing so sometimes proves the means of their being 
 found out, understood, and abhorred; and for this 
 very cause, that they are ready to do any thing, are 
 justly thought fit to be preferred to nothing. 
 
 Caesar Borgia (base son to pope Alexander VI.) 
 used to boast to his friend Machiavel, that he had 
 contrived his affairs and greatness into such a pos- 
 ture of firmness, that whether his holy father lived 
 or died, they could not but be secure. If he lived, 
 there could be no doubt of them ; and if he died, he 
 laid his interest so as to overrule the next election 
 as he pleased. But all this while, the politician 
 never thought, or considered, that he might in the 
 mean time fall dangerously sick, and that sickness 
 necessitate his removal from the court, and during 
 that his absence, his father die, and so his interest 
 decay, and his mortal enemy be chosen to the pa- 
 pacy, as indeed it fell out. So that for all his exact 
 plot, down was he cast from all his greatness, and 
 forced to end his days in a mean condition : as it is 
 pity but all such politic opiniators should. 
 
 Upon much the like account, we find it once said 
 of an eminent cardinal, by reason of his great and 
 apparent likelihood to step into St. Peter's chair, 
 that in two conclaves he went in pope, and came 
 out again cardinal. 
 
 So much has chance the casting voice in the dis- 
 posal of all the great things of the world. That 
 which men call merit, is a mere nothing. For even 
 when persons of the greatest worth and merit are 
 preferred, it is not their merit, but their fortune that 
 prefers them. And then, for that other so much ad-
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 225 
 
 mired thing called policy, it is but little better. For 
 when men have busied themselves, and beat their 
 brains never so much, the whole result both of their 
 counsels and their fortunes is still at the mercy of 
 an accident. And therefore, whosoever that man 
 was, that said, that he had -rather have a grain of 
 fortune than a pound of wisdom, as to the things of 
 this life, spoke nothing but the voice of wisdom and 
 great experience. 
 
 And now I am far from affirming, that I have re- 
 counted all, or indeed the hundredth part of those 
 casualties of human life, that may display the full 
 compass of divine Providence ; but surely, I have 
 reckoned up so many, as sufficiently enforce the ne- 
 cessity of our reliance upon it, and that in opposition 
 to two extremes, that men are usually apt to fall 
 into. 
 
 1. Too much confidence and presumption in a 
 prosperous estate. David, after his deli verances from 
 Saul, and his victories over all his enemies round 
 about him, in Psalm xxx. ver. 7, 8, confesses, that 
 this his prosperity had raised him to such a pitch of 
 confidence, as to make him say, that he should never 
 be moved, God of his favour had made his hill so 
 strong : but presently he adds, almost in the very 
 same breath, Thou didst hide thy face, and I was 
 troubled. 
 
 The sun shines in his full brightness but the very 
 moment before he passes under a cloud. Who knows 
 what a day, what an hour, nay, what a minute may 
 bring forth ! He who builds upon the present, builds 
 upon the narrow compass of a point ; and where the 
 foundation is so narrow, the superstructure cannot 
 be high, and strong too. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A SERMON 
 
 Is a man confident of his present health and 
 strength ? Why, an unwholesome blast of air, a cold, 
 or a surfeit took by chance, may shake in pieces his 
 hardy fabric ; and (in spite of all his youth and vi- 
 gour) send him, in the very flower of his years, pin- 
 ing and drooping, to his long home. Nay, he can- 
 not with any assurance, so much as step out of his 
 doors, but (unless God commissions his protecting 
 angel to bear him up in his hands) he may dash his 
 foot against a stone, and fall, and in that fall breathe 
 his last. 
 
 Or is a man confident of his estate, wealth, and 
 power? Why, let him read of those strange, unex- 
 pected dissolutions of the great monarchies and go- 
 vernments of the world. Governments that once 
 made such a noise, and looked so big in the eyes of 
 mankind, as being founded upon the deepest coun- 
 sels and the strongest force ; and yet, by some slight 
 miscarriage or cross accident, (which let in ruin and 
 desolation upon them at first,) are now so utterly ex- 
 tinct, that nothing remains of them but a name, nor 
 are there the least signs or traces of them to be 
 found, but only in story. When, I say, he shall 
 have well reflected upon all this, let him see what 
 security he can promise himself, in his own little 
 personal domestic concerns, which at the best have 
 but the protection of the laws, to guard and defend 
 them, which, God knows, are far from being able to 
 defend themselves. 
 
 No man can rationally account himself secure, un- 
 less he could command all the chances of the world : 
 but how should he command them, when he cannot 
 so much as number them ? Possibilities are as infi- 
 nite as God's power ; and whatsoever may come to
 
 ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 227 
 
 pass, no man can certainly conclude shall not come 
 to pass. 
 
 People forget how little it is that they know, and 
 how much less it is that they can do, when they 
 grow confident upon any present state of things. 
 
 There is no one enjoyment that a man pleases 
 himself in, but is liable to be lost by ten thousand 
 accidents, wholly out of all mortal power either to 
 foresee or to prevent. Reason allows none to be 
 confident, but Him only who governs the world, who 
 knows all things, and can do all things, and there- 
 fore can neither be surprised nor overpowered. 
 
 2. The other extreme, which these considerations 
 should arm the heart of man against, is, utter de- 
 spondency of mind in a time of pressing adversity. 
 
 As he who presumes, steps into the throne of God; 
 so he that despairs, limits an infinite power to a 
 finite apprehension, and measures Providence by his 
 own little, contracted model. But the contrivances 
 of Heaven are as much above our politics, as beyond 
 our arithmetic. 
 
 Of those many millions of casualties, which we 
 are not aware of, there is hardly one, but God can 
 make an instrument of our deliverance. And most 
 men, who are at length delivered from any great 
 distress indeed, find that they are so, by ways that 
 they never thought of; ways above or beside their 
 imagination. 
 
 And therefore let no man, who owns the belief of 
 a providence, grow desperate or forlorn under any 
 calamity or strait whatsoever ; but compose the an- 
 guish of his thoughts, and rest his amazed spirits 
 upon this one consideration, that he knows not which 
 way the lot may fall., or what may happen to him ;
 
 228 A SERMON ON PROVERBS XVI. 33. 
 
 he comprehends not those strange unaccountable me- 
 thods, by which Providence may dispose of him. 
 
 In a word. To sum up all the foregoing discourse : 
 since the interest of governments and nations, of 
 princes and private persons, and that, both as to life 
 and health, reputation and honour, friendships and 
 enmities, employments and preferments, (notwith- 
 standing all the contrivance and power that human 
 nature can exert about them,) remain so wholly con- 
 tingent, as to us ; surely all the reason of mankind 
 cannot suggest any solid ground of satisfaction, but 
 in making that God our friend, who is the sole and 
 absolute disposer of all these things : and in carry- 
 ing a conscience so clear towards him, as may en- 
 courage us with confidence to cast ourselves upon 
 him : and in all casualties still to promise ourselves 
 the best events from his providence, to whom no- 
 thing is casual : who constantly wills the truest hap- 
 piness to those that trust in him, and works all 
 things according to the counsel of that blessed will. 
 
 To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most 
 due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, 
 both now and for evermore. Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT WESTMINSTER-ABBEY, 
 APRIL 30, 1676. 
 
 1 COR. iii. 19. 
 For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. 
 
 1 HE wisdom of the world, so called by an Hebra- 
 ism, frequent in the writings of this apostle, for 
 worldly wisdom, is taken in scripture in a double 
 sense. w 
 
 1. For that sort of wisdom that consists in specu- 
 lation, called (both by St. Paul and the professors 
 of it) philosophy; the great idol of the learned part 
 of the heathen world, and which divided it into so 
 many sects and denominations, as Stoics, Peripate- 
 tics, Epicureans, and the like ; it was professed and 
 owned by them for the grand rule of life, and cer- 
 tain guide to man's chief happiness. But for its ut- 
 ter insufficiency to make good so high an undertak- 
 ing, we find it termed by the same apostle, Col. ii. 8. 
 vain philosophy ; and 1 Tim. vi. 20. science false- 
 ly so called ; and a full account of its uselessness we 
 have in this, 1 Cor. i. 21. where the apostle speaking 
 of it, says, that the world by wisdom knew not God. 
 Such a worthy kind of wisdom is it : only making 
 men accurately and laboriously ignorant of what 
 they were most concerned to know. 
 
 U 3
 
 230 A SERMON 
 
 2. The wisdom of this world is sometimes taken 
 in scripture for such a wisdom as lies in practice, 
 and goes commonly by the name of policy ; and con- 
 sists in a certain dexterity or art of managing busi- 
 ness for a man's secular advantage : and so being in- 
 deed that ruling engine that governs the world, it 
 both claims and finds as great a preeminence above 
 all other kinds of knowledge, as government is above 
 contemplation, or the leading of an army above the 
 making of syllogisms, or managing the little issues 
 of a dispute. 
 
 And so much is the very name and reputation of 
 it affected and valued by most men, that they can 
 much rather brook their being reputed knaves, than 
 for their honesty be accounted fools ; as they easily 
 may : knave, in the mean time, passing for a name 
 of credit, where it is only another word for politi- 
 cian. 
 
 Now this is the wisdom here intended in the text; 
 namely, that practical cunning that shews itself in 
 political matters, and has in it really the mystery of 
 a trade, or craft. So that in this latter part of verse 
 19. God is said to take the wise in their own 
 craftiness. 
 
 In short, it is a kind of trick or sleight, got not by 
 study, but converse, learned not from books, but 
 men ; and those also, for the most part, the very 
 worst of men of all sorts, ways, and professions. So 
 that if it be in truth such a precious jewel as the 
 world takes it for, yet, as precious as it is, we see 
 that they are forced to rake it out of dunghills ; and 
 accordingly, the apostle gives it a value suitable to 
 its extract, branding it with the most degrading arid 
 ignominious imputation of foolishness. Which cha-
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 231 
 
 racter running so cross to the general sense and 
 vogue of mankind concerning it, who are still admir- 
 ing, and even adoring it, as the mistress and queen 
 regent of all other arts whatsoever, our business, 
 in the following discourse, shall be to inquire into 
 the reason of the apostle's passing so severe a remark 
 upon it : and here, indeed, since we must allow it 
 for an art, and since every art is properly an habitual 
 knowledge of certain rules and maxims, by which a 
 man is governed and directed in his actions, the pro- 
 secution of the words will most naturally lie in these 
 two things. 
 
 I. To shew what are those rules or principles of 
 action, upon which the policy or wisdom here con- 
 demned by the apostle does proceed. 
 
 II. To shew and demonstrate the folly and ab- 
 surdity^ of them, in relation to God, in whose ac- 
 count they receive a very different estimate, from 
 what they have in the world's. 
 
 And first, for the first of these ; I shall set down 
 four several rules or principles, which that policy or 
 wisdom, which carries so great a vogue and value in 
 the world, governs its actions by.- 
 
 1. The first is, That a man must maintain a con- 
 stant continued course of dissimulation, in the whole 
 tenor of his behaviour. Where yet, we must ob- 
 serve, that dissimulation admits of a twofold accep- 
 tion. (1.) It may be taken for a bare concealment 
 of one's mind : in which sense we commonly say, 
 that it is prudence to dissemble injuries ; that is, not 
 always to declare our resentments of them ; and this 
 must be allowed not only lawful, but, in most of the 
 affairs of human life, absolutely necessary : for cer- 
 tainly it can be no man's duty, to write his heart 
 
 Q 4
 
 232 A SERMON 
 
 upon his forehead, and to give all the inquisitive and 
 malicious world round about him a survey of those 
 thoughts, which it is the prerogative of God only to 
 know, and his own great interest to conceal. Nature 
 gives every one a right to defend himself, and silence 
 surely is a very innocent defence. 
 
 (2.) Dissimulation is taken for a man's positive 
 professing himself to be what indeed he is not, and 
 what he resolves not to be ; and consequently, it em- 
 ploys all the art and industry imaginable, to make 
 good the disguise ; and by false appearances to ren- 
 der its designs the less visible, that so they may 
 prove the more effectual : and this is the dissimula- 
 tion here meant, which is the very groundwork of 
 all worldly policy. The superstructure of which be- 
 ing folly, it is but reason that the foundation of it 
 should be falsity. 
 
 In the language of the scripture it is damnable 
 hypocrisy ; but of those who neither believe scrip- 
 ture nor damnation, it is voted wisdom ; nay, the 
 very primum mobile, or great wheel, upon which all 
 the various arts of policy move and turn : the soul, 
 or spirit, which, as it were, animates and runs 
 through all the particular designs and contrivances, 
 by which the great masters of this mysterious wis- 
 dom turn about the world. So that he who hates 
 his neighbour mortally, and wisely too, must profess 
 all the dearness and friendship, all the readiness to 
 serve him, (as the phrase now is,) that words and 
 superficial actions can express. 
 
 When he purposes one thing, he must swear and 
 lie, and damn himself with ten thousand protesta- 
 tions, that he designs the clean contrary. If he 
 really intends to ruin and niurder his prince, (as
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 233 
 
 Cromwell, an experienced artist in that perfidious 
 and bloody faculty, once did,) he must weep and call 
 upon God, use all the oaths and imprecations, all the 
 sanctified perjuries, to persuade him that he resolves 
 nothing but his safety, honour, and establishment, as 
 the same grand exemplar of hypocrisy did before. 
 
 If such persons project the ruin of church and 
 state, they must appeal to God, the searcher of all 
 hearts, that they are ready to sacrifice their dearest 
 blood for the peace of the one, and the purity of the 
 other. 
 
 And now, if men will be prevailed upon so far, as 
 to renounce the sure and impartial judgments of 
 sense and experience, and to believe that black is 
 white, provided there be somebody to swear that it 
 is so ; they shall not want arguments of this sort, 
 good -store, to convince them : there being knights 
 of the post, and holy cheats enough in the world, to 
 swear the truth of the broadest contradictions, and 
 the highest impossibilities, where interest and pious 
 frauds shall give them an extraordinary call to it. 
 
 It is looked upon as a great piece of weakness 
 and unfitness for business, forsooth, for a man to be 
 so clear and open, as really to think, not only what 
 he says, but what he swears ; and when he makes 
 any promise, to have the least intent of performing 
 it, but when his interest serves instead of veracity, 
 and engages him rather to be true to another, than 
 false to himself. He only nowadays speaks like an 
 oracle, who speaks tricks and ambiguities. Nothing 
 is thought beautiful that is not painted : so that, 
 what between French fashions and Italian dissimu- 
 lations, the old, generous English spirit, which here- 
 tofore made this nation so great in the eyes of all
 
 234 A SERMON 
 
 the world round about it, seems utterly lost and ex- 
 tinct ; and we are degenerated into a mean, sli ark- 
 ing, fallacious, undermining way of converse ; there 
 being a snare and a trepan almost in every word we 
 hear, and every action we see. Men speak with de- 
 signs of mischief, and therefore they speak in the 
 dark. In short, this seems to be the true, inward 
 judgment of all our politic sages, that speech was 
 given to the ordinary sort of men, whereby to com- 
 municate their mind ; but to wise men, whereby to 
 conceal it. 
 
 2. The second rule or principle, upon which this 
 policy, or wisdom of the world, does proceed, is, That 
 conscience and religion ought to lay no restraint 
 upon men at all, when it lies opposite to the prose- 
 cution of their interest. 
 
 The great patron and coryphtEus of this tribe, 
 Nicolas Machiavel, laid down this for a master rule 
 in his political scheme, That the shew of religion was 
 helpful to the politician, but the reality of it hurtful 
 and pernicious. Accordingly, having shewn how the 
 former part of his maxim has been followed by these 
 men in that first and fundamental principle of dis- 
 simulation already spoken to by us ; we come now 
 to shew further, that they cannot with more art dis- 
 semble the appearance of religion, than they can 
 with ease lay aside the substance. 
 
 The politician, whose very essence lies in this, 
 that he be a person ready to do any thing that he 
 apprehends for his advantage, must first of all be 
 sure to put himself into a state of liberty, as free 
 and large as his principles : and so to provide elbow- 
 room enough for his conscience to lay about, and 
 have its full play in. And for that purpose, he must
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 235 
 
 resolve to shake off all inward awe of religion, and 
 by no means to suffer the liberty of his conscience 
 to be enslaved, and brought under the bondage of 
 observing oaths, or the narrowness of men's opinions, 
 about turpe et honestum, which ought to vanish, 
 when they stand in competition with any solid, real 
 good ; that is, (in their judgment,) such as concerns 
 eating, or drinking, or taking money. 
 
 Upon which account, these children of darkness 
 seem excellently well to imitate the wisdom of those 
 children of light, the great illuminati of the late 
 times, who professedly laid down this as the basis of 
 all their proceedings ; That whatsoever they said or 
 did for the present, under such a measure of light, 
 should oblige them no longer, when a greater mea- 
 sure of light should give them other discoveries. 
 
 And this principle, they professed, was of great 
 use to them ; as how could it be otherwise, if it fell 
 into skilful hands ? For since this light was to rest 
 within them, and the judgment of it to remain 
 wholly in themselves, they might safely and uncon- 
 trollably pretend it greater or less, as their occasions 
 should enlighten them. 
 
 If a man has a prospect of a fair estate, and sees a 
 way open to it, but it must be through fraud, vio- 
 lence, and oppression ; if he see large preferments 
 tendered him, but conditionally upon his doing base 
 and wicked offices ; if he sees he may crush his ene- 
 my, but that it must be by slandering, belying, and 
 giving him a secret blow ; and conscience shall here, 
 according to its office, interpose, and protest the ille- 
 gality and injustice of such actions, and the damna- 
 tion that is expressly threatened to them by the 
 word of God; the thorough-paced politician must
 
 236 A SERMON 
 
 presently laugh at the squeamishness of his con- 
 science, and read it another lecture, and tell it, that 
 just and unjust are but names grounded only upon 
 opinion, and authorized by custom, by which the 
 wise and the knowing part of the world serve them- 
 selves upon the ignorant and easy ; and that, what- 
 soever fond priests may talk, there is no devil like 
 an enemy in power, no damnation like being poor, 
 and no hell like an empty purse ; and therefore, that 
 those courses, by which a man comes to rid himself 
 of these plagues, are ipso facto prudent, and conse- 
 quently pious : the former being, with such wise 
 men, the only measure of the latter. And the truth 
 is, the late times of confusion, in which the heights 
 and refinements of religion were professed in con- 
 junction with the practice of the most execrable vil- 
 lainies that were ever acted upon the earth ; and the 
 weakness of our church discipline since its restaura- 
 tion, whereby it has been scarce able to get any hold 
 on men's consciences, and much less able to keep it ; 
 and the great prevalence of that atheistical doctrine 
 of the Leviathan, and the unhappy propagation of 
 Erastianism ; these things, I say, with some others, 
 have been the sad and fatal causes that have loosed 
 the bands of conscience, and eaten out the very 
 heart and sense of Christianity amongst us, to that 
 degree, that there is now scarce any religious tie or 
 restraint upon persons, but merely from those faint 
 remainders of natural conscience, which God will be 
 sure to keep alive upon the hearts of men, as long 
 as they are men, for the great ends of his own pro- 
 vidence, whether they will or no. So that, were it 
 not for this sole obstacle, religion is not now so 
 much in danger of being divided, and torn piece-
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 237 
 
 meal by sects and factions, as of being at once de- 
 voured by atheism. Which being so, let none won- 
 der, that irreligion is accounted policy, when it is 
 grown even to a fashion ; and passes for wit with 
 some, as well as for wisdom with others. For cer- 
 tain it is, that advantage now sits in the room of 
 conscience, and steers all : and no man is esteemed 
 any ways considerable for policy, who wears religion 
 otherwise than as a cloak ; that is, as such a gar- 
 ment as may both cover and keep him warm, and 
 yet hang loose upon him too. 
 
 3. The third rule or principle, upon which this 
 policy, or wisdom of the world, proceeds, is, That a 
 man ought to make himself, and not the public, the 
 chief, if not the sole end of all his actions. He is to 
 be his own centre and circumference too : that is, to 
 draw all things to himself, and to extend nothing 
 beyond himself: he is to make the greater world 
 serve the less ; and not only, not to love his neigh- 
 bour as himself, but indeed to account none for his 
 neighbour but himself. 
 
 And therefore, to die or suffer for his country, is 
 not only exploded by him as a great paradox in po- 
 litics, and fitter for poets to sing of, than for wise 
 men to practise ; but also, to make himself so much 
 as one penny the poorer, or to forbear one base gain 
 to serve his prince, to secure a whole nation, or to 
 credit a church, is judged by him a great want of 
 experience, and a piece of romantic melancholy, un- 
 becoming a politician ; who is still to look upon him- 
 self as his prince, his country, his church ; nay, and 
 his God too. 
 
 The general interest of the nation is nothing to
 
 238 A SERMON 
 
 him, but only that portion of it, that he either does 
 or would possess. It is not the rain that waters the 
 whole earth, but that which falls into his own 
 cistern, that must relieve him : not the common, 
 but the enclosure, that must make him rich. 
 
 Let the public sink or swim, so long as he can 
 hold up his head above water : let the ship be cast 
 away, if he may but have the benefit of the wreck : 
 let the government be ruined by his avarice, if by 
 the same avarice he can scrape together so much as 
 to make his peace, and maintain him as well under 
 another : let foreigners invade and spoil the land, so 
 long as he has a good estate in bank elsewhere. 
 Peradventure, for all this, men may curse him as a 
 covetous wretch,, a traitor, and a villain : but such 
 words are to be looked upon only as the splendid de- 
 claimings of novices, and men of heat, who, while 
 they rail at his person, perhaps envy his fortune : 
 or possibly of losers and malecontents, whose por- 
 tion and inheritance is a freedom to speak. But a 
 politician must be above words. Wealth, he knows, 
 answers all, and if it brings a storm upon him, will 
 provide him also a coat to weather it out. 
 
 That such thoughts and principles as these lie at 
 the bottom of most men's actions ; at the bottom, do 
 I say? nay, sit at the top, and visibly hold the 
 helm in the management of the weightiest affairs of 
 most nations, we need not much history, nor cu- 
 riosity of observation, to convince us : for though 
 there have not been wanting such heretofore, as 
 have practised these unworthy arts, (forasmuch as 
 there have been villains in all places and all ages,) 
 yet nowadays they are owned above-board; and
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 239 
 
 whereas men formerly had them in design, amongst 
 us they are openly vouched, argued, and asserted in 
 common discourse. 
 
 But this, I confess, being a new, unexemplified 
 kind of policy, scarce comes up to that which the 
 apostle here condemns for the wisdom of the world, 
 but must pass rather for the wisdom of this particu- 
 lar age, which, as in most other things it stands 
 alone, scorning the examples of all former ages, 
 so it has a way of policy and wisdom also peculiar to 
 itself. 
 
 4. The fourth and last principle that I shall men- 
 tion, upon which this wisdom of the world proceeds, 
 is this : 
 
 That in shewing kindness, or doing favours, no 
 respect at all is to be had to friendship, gratitude, or 
 sense^of honour; but that such favours are to be 
 done only to the rich or potent, from whom a man 
 may receive a further advantage, or to his enemies, 
 from whom he may otherwise fear a mischief. 
 
 I have here mentioned gratitude, and sense of 
 honour, being (as I may so speak) a man's civil con- 
 science, prompting him to many things, upon the 
 accounts of common decency, which religion would 
 otherwise bind him to, upon the score of duty. 
 And it is sometimes found, that some, who have 
 little or no reverence for religion, have yet those 
 innate seeds and sparks of generosity, as make them 
 scorn to do such things as would render them mean 
 in the opinion of sober and worthy men ; and with 
 such persons, shame is instead of piety, to restrain 
 them from many base and degenerous practices. 
 
 But now our politician having baffled his greater 
 conscience, must not be nonplused with inferior ob-
 
 240 A SERMON 
 
 ligations ; and having leaped over such mountains, 
 at length poorly lie down before a mole-hill : but he 
 must add perfection to perfection ; and being past 
 grace, endeavour, if need be, to be past shame too. 
 And accordingly, he looks upon friendship, gratitude, 
 and sense of honour, as terms of art to amuse and 
 impose upon weak, undesigning minds. For an 
 enemy's money, he thinks, may be made as good a 
 friend as any; and gratitude looks backward, but 
 policy forward : and for sense of honour, if it im- 
 poverisheth a man, it is, in his esteem, neither honour 
 nor sense. 
 
 Whence it is, that nowadays, only rich men or 
 enemies are accounted the rational objects of bene- 
 faction. For to be kind to the former is traffic ; 
 and in these times men present, just as they soil 
 their ground, not that they love the dirt, but that 
 they expect a crop : and for the latter, the politician 
 well approves of the Indian's religion, in worshipping 
 the devil, that he may do him no hurt ; how much 
 soever he hates him, and is hated by him. 
 
 But if a poor, old, decayed friend or relation, 
 whose purse, whose house and heart had been for- 
 merly free, and open to such an one, shall at length 
 upon change of fortune come to him with hunger 
 and rags, pleading his past services and his present 
 wants, and so crave some relief of one, for the merit 
 and memory of the other ; the politician, who imi- 
 tates the serpent's wisdom, must turn his deaf ear 
 too, to all the insignificant charms of gratitude and 
 honour, in behalf of such a bankrupt, undone friend, 
 who having been already used, and now squeezed 
 dry, is fit only to be cast aside. He must abhor 
 gratitude as a- worse kind of witchcraft, which only
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 241 
 
 serves to conjure up the pale, meager ghosts of dead, 
 forgotten kindnesses, to haunt and trouble him ; 
 still respecting what is past ; whereas such wise men 
 as himself, in such cases, account all that is past, to 
 be also gone ; and know, that there can be no gain 
 in refunding, nor any profit in paying debts. The 
 sole measure of all his courtesies is, what return 
 they will make him, and what revenue they will 
 bring him in. His expectations govern his charity. 
 And we must not vouch any man for an exact mas- 
 ter in the rules of our modern policy, but such an 
 one as hath brought himself so far to hate and 
 despise the absurdity of being kind upon free cost, 
 as (to use a known expression) not so much as to 
 tell a friend what it is a clock for nothing. 
 
 And thus I have finished the first general head 
 proposed from the text, and shewn some of those 
 rules, principles, and maxims, that this wisdom of 
 the world acts by : I say some of them, for I neither 
 pretend nor desire to know them all. 
 
 II. I come now to the other general head, which 
 is, to shew the folly and absurdity of these principles 
 in relation to God. In order to which we must ob- 
 serve that foolishness, being properly a man's de- 
 viation from right reason in point of practice, must 
 needs consist in one of these two things : 
 
 1. In his pitching upon such an end as is unsuit- 
 able to his condition ; or, 
 
 2. In his pitching upon means unsuitable to the 
 compassing of his end. 
 
 There is folly enough in either of these ; and my 
 business shall be to shew, that such as act by the 
 forementioned rules of worldly wisdom, are emi- 
 nently foolish upon both accounts. 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 A SERMON 
 
 1. And first, for that first sort of foolishness im- 
 putable to them ; namely, that a man,, by following 
 such principles, pitches upon that for his end which 
 no ways suits his condition. 
 
 Certain it is, and indeed self-evident, that the 
 wisdom of this world looks no further than this 
 world. All its designs and efficacy terminate on this 
 side heaven, nor does policy so much as pretend to 
 any more than to be the great art of raising a man 
 to the plenties, glories, and grandeurs of the world. 
 And if it arrives so far as to make a man rich, 
 potent, and honourable, it has its end, and has done 
 its utmost. But now that a man cannot rationally 
 make these things his end, will appear from these 
 two considerations. 
 
 (1.) That they reach not the measure of his dura- 
 tion or being; the perpetuity of which surviving 
 this mortal state, and shooting forth into the end- 
 less eternities of another world, must needs render a 
 man infinitely miserable and forlorn, if he has no 
 other comforts, but what he must leave behind him 
 in this. For nothing can make a man happy, but 
 that which shall last as long as he lasts. And all 
 these enjoyments are much too short for an immortal 
 soul to stretch itself upon, which shall persist in be- 
 ing, not only when profit, pleasure, and honour, but 
 when time itself shall cease, and be no more. 
 
 No man can transport his large retinue, his sump- 
 tuous fare, and his rich furniture into another world. 
 Nothing of all these things can continue with him 
 then, but the memory of them. And surely the 
 bare remembrance that a man was formerly rich or 
 great, cannot make him at all happier there, where 
 an infinite happiness or an infinite misery shall
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 243 
 
 equally swallow up the sense of these poor felicities. 
 It may indeed contribute to his misery, heighten the 
 anguish, and sharpen the sting of conscience, and so 
 add fury to the everlasting flames, when he shall re- 
 flect upon the abuse of all that wealth and greatness 
 that the good providence of God had put as a price 
 into his hand for worthier purposes, than to damn 
 his nobler and better part, only to please and gratify 
 his worse. But the politician has an answer ready 
 for all these melancholy considerations ; that he, for 
 his part, believes none of these things : as that there 
 is either an heaven, or an hell, or an immortal soul. 
 No, he is too great a friend to real knowledge, to 
 take such troublesome assertions as these upon trust. 
 Which if it be his belief, as no doubt it is, let him 
 for me continue in it still, and stay for its confuta- 
 tion in ^another world; which if he can destroy by 
 disbelieving, his infidelity will do him better service, 
 than as yet he has any cause to presume that it can. 
 But, 
 
 (2.) Admitting, that either these enjoyments were 
 eternal, or the soul mortal ; and so, that one way or 
 other they were commensurate to its duration ; yet 
 still they cannot be an end suitable to a rational na- 
 ture, forasmuch as they fill not the measure of its 
 desires. The foundation of all man's unhappiness 
 here on earth, is the great disproportion between his 
 enjoyments and his appetites ; which appears evi- 
 dently in this, that let a man have never so much, 
 he is still desiring something or other more. Alexan- 
 der, we know, was much troubled at the scantiness 
 of nature itself, that there were no more worlds for 
 him to disturb : and in this respect, every man liv- 
 ing has a soul as great as Alexander, and put under 
 
 R 2
 
 244 A SERMON 
 
 the same circumstances, would own the very same 
 dissatisfactions. 
 
 Now this is most certain, that in spiritual natures, 
 so much as there is of desire, so much there is also 
 of capacity to receive. I do not say, there is always 
 a capacity to receive the very thing they desire, for 
 that may be impossible : but for the degree of hap- 
 piness that they propose to themselves from that 
 thing, this I say they are capable of. And as God 
 is said to have made man after his own image, so 
 upon this quality he seems peculiarly to have stampt 
 the resemblance of his infinity. For man seems as 
 boundless in his desires, as God is in his being ; 
 and therefore, nothing but God himself can satisfy 
 him. But the great inequality of all things else to 
 the appetites of a rational soul appears yet farther 
 from this ; that in all these worldly things, that a 
 man pursues with the greatest eagerness and inten- 
 tion of mind imaginable, he finds not half the plea- 
 sure in the actual possession of them, that he pro- 
 posed to himself in the expectation. Which shews, 
 that there is a great cheat or lie which overspreads 
 the world, while all things here below beguile men's 
 expectations, and their expectations cheat their ex- 
 perience. 
 
 Let this therefore be the first thing, in which 
 the foolishness of this worldly wisdom is manifest. 
 Namely, that by it a man proposes to himself an 
 end wholly unsuitable to his condition ; as bearing 
 no proportion to the measure of his duration, or the 
 vastness of his desires. 
 
 2. The other thing, in which foolishness is seen, 
 is a man's pitching upon means unsuitable to that 
 which he has made his end.
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 245 
 
 And here we will, for the present, suppose the 
 things of the world to have neither that shortness 
 nor emptiness in them, that we have indeed proved 
 them to have. But that they are so adequate to all 
 the concerns of an intelligent nature, that they may 
 be rationally fixed upon by men as the ultimate 
 end of all their designs ; yet the folly of this wisdom 
 appears in this, that it suggests those means for the 
 acquisition of these enjoyments, that are no ways 
 fit to compass or acquire them, and that upon a 
 double account. 
 
 (1.) That they are in themselves unable and in- 
 sufficient for, and, 
 
 (2.) That they are frequently opposite to a suc- 
 cessful attainment of them. 
 
 (1.) And first for their insufficiency. Let politi- 
 cians contrive as accurately, project as deeply, and 
 pursue what they have thus contrived and pro- 
 jected, as diligently as it is possible for human wit 
 and industry to do ; yet still the success of all de- 
 pends upon the favour of an overruling hand. For 
 God expressly claims it as a special part of his pre- 
 rogative, to have the entire disposal of riches, ho- 
 nours, and whatsoever else is apt to command the 
 desires of mankind here below, Deut. viii. 18. It is 
 the Lord thy God that giveth thee power to get 
 wealth. And in 1 Sam. ii. 30. God peremptorily 
 declares himself the sole fountain of honour, telling 
 us, that those that honour him shall be honoured, 
 and that those that despise him shall be lightly 
 esteemed. 
 
 And then for dignities and preferments, we have 
 the word of one, that could dispose of these things 
 as much as kings could do, Prov. xxix. 26. where he 
 
 R 3
 
 246 A SERMON 
 
 tells us, that many seek the ruler's favour : that is, 
 apply themselves both to his interest and humour, 
 with all the arts of flattery and obsequiousness, the 
 surest and the readiest ways (one would think) to 
 advance a man ; and yet, after all, it follows in the 
 next words, that every man's judgment cometh of 
 the Lord. And that, whatsoever may be expected 
 here, it is resolved only in the court of heaven, 
 whether the man shall proceed favourite in the 
 courts of princes, and after all his artificial attendance 
 come to sit at the right hand, or be made a foot- 
 stool. So that upon full trial of all the courses that 
 policy could either devise or practise, the most ex- 
 perienced masters of it have been often forced to sit 
 down with that complaint of the disciples, We have 
 toiled all night., and have caught nothing. For do 
 we not sometimes see that traitors can be out of fa- 
 vour, and knaves be beggars, and lose their estates, 
 and be stript of their offices, as well as honester 
 men? 
 
 And why all this ? Surely not always for want of 
 craft to spy out where their game lay, nor yet for 
 want of irreligion to give them all the scope of ways 
 lawful and unlawful, to prosecute their intentions ; 
 but, because the providence of God strikes not in 
 with them, but dashes, and even dispirits all their 
 endeavours, and makes their designs heartless and 
 ineffectual. So that it is not their seeing this man, 
 their belying another, nor their sneaking to a third, 
 that shall be able to do their business, when the 
 designs of Heaven will be served by their disap- 
 pointment. And this is the true cause why so 
 many politic conceptions, so elaborately formed and 
 wrought, and grown at length ripe for delivery, do
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. II). 247 
 
 yet, in the issue, miscarry and prove abortive ; for, 
 being come to the birth, the all-disposing providence 
 of God denies them strength to bring forth. And 
 thus the authors of them, having missed of their 
 mighty aims, are fain to retreat with frustration 
 and a baffle ; and having played the knaves unsuc- 
 cessfully, to have the ill luck to pass for fools too. 
 
 (2.) The means suggested by policy and worldly 
 wisdom, for the attainment of these earthly enjoy- 
 ments, are unfit for that purpose, not only upon the 
 account of their insufficiency for, but also of their 
 frequent opposition and contrariety to, the accom- 
 plishment of such ends ; nothing being more usual, 
 than for these unchristian fishers of men to be fatally 
 caught in their own nets : for does not the text ex- 
 pressly say, that God taketh the wise in their own 
 craftiness ? And has not our own experience suffi- 
 ciently commented upon the text, when we have seen 
 some by the very same ways, by which they had de- 
 signed to rise uncontrollably, and to clear off all ob- 
 structions before their ambition, to have directly pro- 
 cured their utter downfall, and to have broke their 
 necks from that very ladder, by which they had 
 thought to have climbed as high as their father 
 Lucifer ; and there from the top of all their great- 
 ness to have looked down with scorn upon all below 
 them ? 
 
 Such persons are the proper and lawful objects of 
 derision, forasmuch as God himself laughs at them. 
 
 Haman wanted nothing to complete his greatness 
 but a gallows upon which to hang Mordecai ; but it 
 mattered not for whom he provided the gallows, 
 when Providence designed the rope for him. 
 
 With what contempt does the apostle here, in the 
 R 4
 
 248 A SERMON 
 
 20th verse of this third chapter of the first epistle to 
 the Corinthians, repeat those words of the psalmist, 
 concerning all the fine artifices of worldly wisdom ; 
 The Lord, says he, knoweth the thoughts of the 
 wise that they are vain. All their contrivances are 
 but thin, slight, despicable things, and, for the most 
 part, destructive of themselves ; nothing being more 
 equal in justice, and indeed more natural in the di- 
 rect consequence and connection of effects and causes, 
 than for men wickedly wise to outwit themselves, 
 and for such as wrestle with Providence, to trip up 
 their own heels. 
 
 It is clear therefore, that the charge of this second 
 sort of foolishness is made good upon worldly wis- - 
 dom ; for that having made men pitch upon an end 
 unfit for their condition, it also makes them pitch 
 upon means unfit to attain that end. And that 
 both by reason of their inability for, and frequent 
 contrariety to, the bringing about such designs. 
 
 This, I say, has been made good in the general ; 
 but since particulars convince with greater life and 
 evidence, we will resume the forementioned prin- 
 ciples of the politician, and shew severally in each of 
 them, how little efficacy they have to advance the 
 practisers of them, to the things they aspire to by 
 them. 
 
 1. And first, for his first principle, That the poli- 
 tician must maintain a constant, habitual dissimula- 
 tion. Concerning which I shall lay down this as 
 certain ; that dissimulation can be no further useful, 
 than it is concealed ; forasmuch as no man will trust 
 a known cheat : and it is also as certain, that as 
 some men use dissimulation for their interest, so 
 others have an interest as strongly engaging them,
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 249 
 
 to use all the art and industry they can to find it 
 out ; and to assure themselves of the truth or false- 
 hood of those with whom they deal, which renders 
 it infinitely hard, if not morally impossible, for a 
 man to carry on a constant course of dissimulation 
 without discovery. And being once discovered, it is 
 not only no help, but the greatest impediment of 
 action in the world. For since man is but of a very 
 limited, narrow power in his own person, and conse- 
 quently can effect no great matter merely by his 
 own personal strength, but as he acts in society and 
 conjunction with others, without first engaging their 
 trust ; and moreover, since men will trust no further 
 than they judge a person for his sincerity fit to be 
 trusted, it follows that a discovered dissembler can 
 achieve nothing great or considerable ; for not being 
 able JLo gain men's trust, he cannot gain their con- 
 currence, and so is left alone to act singly, and upon 
 his own bottom ; and while that is the sphere of 
 his activity, all that he can do must needs be 
 contemptible. We know how successful the late 
 a usurper was, while his army believed him real in 
 his zeal against kingship. But when they found 
 out the imposture, upon his aspiring to the same 
 himself, he was presently deserted, and opposed by 
 them, and never able to crown his usurped greatness 
 with the addition of that title which he so pas- 
 sionately thirsted after. Add to this the judgment 
 of as great an English author as ever wrote, with 
 great confidence affirming, " that the ablest men 
 " that ever were, had all an openness and frankness 
 " of dealing ; and that, if at any time such did dis- 
 
 a Cromwell.
 
 250 A SERMON 
 
 " semble, their dissimulation took effect, merely in 
 " the strength of that reputation they had gained 
 " by their veracity and clear dealing in the main." 
 From all which it follows, that dissimulation can be 
 of no further use to a man, than just to guard him 
 within the compass of his own personal concerns ; 
 which yet may be more easily, and not less effec- 
 tually done, by that silence and reservedness that 
 every man may innocently practise, without the 
 putting on of any contrary disguise. 
 
 2. The politician's second principle was, That con- 
 science, or religion, ought never to stand between 
 any man and his temporal advantage. Which in- 
 deed is properly atheism ; and, so far as it is prac- 
 tised, tends to the dissolution of society, the bond of 
 which is religion. Forasmuch as a man's happiness 
 or misery in his converse with other men depends 
 chiefly upon their doing or not doing those things 
 which human laws can take no cognizance of: 
 such as are all actions capable of being done in 
 secret, and out of the view of mankind, which yet 
 have the greatest influence upon our neighbour, 
 even in his nearest and dearest concerns. And if 
 there be no inward sense of religion to awe men 
 from the doing unjust actions, provided they can do 
 them without discovery; it is impossible for any 
 man to sit secure or happy in the possession of any 
 thing that he enjoys. And this inconvenience the 
 politician must expect from others, as well as they 
 have felt from him, unless he thinks that he can en- 
 gross this principle to his own practice, and that 
 others cannot be as false and atheistical as himself, 
 especially having had the advantage of his copy to 
 write after.
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 251 
 
 3. The third principle was, That the politician 
 ought to make himself, and not the public, the 
 chief, if not the sole end of all that he does. 
 
 But here we shall quickly find that the private 
 spirit will prove as pernicious in temporals, as ever 
 it did in spirituals. For while every particular 
 member of the public provides singly and solely for 
 itself, the several joints of the body politic do thereby 
 separate and disunite, and so become unable to sup- 
 port the whole ; and when the public interest once 
 fails, let private interests subsist if they can, and 
 prevent an universal ruin from involving in it parti- 
 culars. It is not a man's wealth that can be sure to 
 save him, if the enemy be wise enough to refuse 
 part of it tendered as a ransom, when it is as easy 
 for him to destroy the owner, and to take the whole. 
 When, the hand finds itself well warmed and covered, 
 let it refuse the trouble of feeding the mouth or 
 guarding the head, till the body be starved or 
 killed, and then we shall see how it will fare with 
 the hand. The Athenians, the Romans, and all 
 other nations that grew great out of little or nothing, 
 did so merely by the public-mindedness of particular 
 persons ; and the same courses that first raised na- 
 tions and governments must support them. So that, 
 were there no such thing as religion, prudence were 
 enough to enforce this upon all. 
 
 For our own parts, let us reflect upon our glorious 
 and renowned English ancestors, men eminent in 
 church and state, and we shall find, that this was 
 the method by which they preserved both. 
 
 We have succeeded into their labours, and the 
 fruits of them : and it will both concern and become 
 us to succeed also into their principles. For it is no
 
 252 A SERMON 
 
 man's duty to be safe or to be rich ; but I am sure, 
 it is the duty of every one to make good his trust. 
 And it is a calamity to a whole nation, that any man 
 should have a place or an employment more large 
 and public than his spirit. 
 
 4. The fourth and last principle mentioned was, 
 That the politician must not, in doing kindnesses, 
 consider his friends, but only gratify rich men or 
 enemies. Which principle (as to that branch of it 
 relating to enemies) was certainly first borrowed and 
 fetched up from the very bottom of hell ; and uttered 
 (no doubt) by particular and immediate inspiration 
 of the devil. And yet (as much of the devil as it 
 carries in it) it neither is nor can be more villainous 
 and detestable, than it is really silly, senseless, and 
 impolitic. 
 
 But to go over the several parts of this principle ; 
 and to begin with the supposed policy of gratifying 
 only the rich and opulent. Does our wise man 
 think, that the grandee, whom he so courts, does 
 not see through all the little plots of his courtship, 
 as well as he himself? And so, at the same time, 
 while he accepts the gift, laugh in his sleeve at the 
 design, and despise the giver ? 
 
 But, for the neglect of friends, as it is the height 
 of baseness, so it can never be proved rational, till 
 we prove the person using it omnipotent and self- 
 sufficient, and such as can never need any mortal as- 
 sistance. But if he be a man, that is, a poor, weak 
 creature, subject to change and misery, let him 
 know, that it is the friend only that God has made 
 for the day of adversity, as the most suitable and 
 sovereign help that humanity is capable of. And 
 those (though in highest place) who slight and dis-
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 253 
 
 oblige their friends, shall infallibly come to know 
 the value of them, by having none, when they shall 
 most need them. 
 
 That prince that maintains the reputation of a 
 true, fast, generous friend, has an army always ready 
 to fight for him, maintained to his hand without 
 
 Pay- 
 As for the other part of this principle, that con- 
 cerns the gratifying of enemies ; it is (to say no 
 more) an absurdity parallel to the former. For when 
 a man shall have done all he can, given all he has, 
 to oblige an enemy, he shall find, that he has armed 
 him indeed, but not at all altered him. 
 
 The scripture bids us pray for our enemies, and 
 love our enemies, but no where does it bid us trust 
 our enemies ; nay, it strictly cautions us against it, 
 Prov. xxvi. 25. When he speaketh theefair, (says 
 the text,) believe him not ; for there are yet seven 
 abominations in his heart : and, in good earnest, it 
 would be a rarity worth the seeing, could any one 
 shew us such a thing as a perfectly reconciled ene- 
 my. Men are generally credulous at first, and will 
 not take up this great and safe truth at the cost of 
 other men's experience, till they come to be bitten 
 into a sense of it by their own ; but are apt to take 
 fair professions, fawning looks, treats, entertainments, 
 visits, and such like pitiful stuff, for friendship and 
 reconcilement, and so to admit the serpent into their 
 bosom : but let them come once to depend upon this 
 new made friend, or reconciled enemy, in any great 
 or real concern of life, and they shall find him false 
 as hell, and cruel as the grave. And I know nothing 
 more to be wondered at, than that those reconcile- 
 ments that are so difficult, and even next to im-
 
 254 A SERMON 
 
 possible in the effect, should yet be so frequent in 
 the attempt ; especially since the reason of this diffi- 
 culty lies as deep as nature itself; which, after it 
 has done an injury, will for ever be suspicious ; and 
 I would fain see the man that can perfectly love the 
 person whom he suspects. 
 
 There is a noted story of Hector and Ajax, who 
 having combated one another, ended that combat in 
 a reconcilement, and testified that reconcilement by 
 mutual presents : Hector giving Ajax a sword, and 
 Ajax presenting Hector with a belt. The conse- 
 quence of which was, that Ajax slew himself with 
 the sword given him by Hector, and Hector was 
 dragged about the walls of Troy by the belt given 
 him by Ajax. Such are the gifts, such are the kill- 
 ing kindnesses of reconciled enemies. 
 
 Confident men may try what conclusions they 
 please, at their own peril ; but let history be con- 
 sulted, reason heard, and experience called in to 
 speak impartially what it has found, and I believe 
 they will all with one voice declare, that whatsoever 
 the grace of God may do in the miraculous change 
 of men's hearts ; yet, according to the common me- 
 thods of the world, a man may as well expect to 
 make the devil himself his friend, as an enemy that 
 has given him the first blow. 
 
 And thus I have gone over the two general heads 
 proposed from the words, and shewn both what 
 those principles are, upon which this wisdom of the 
 world does proceed ; and also wherein the folly and 
 absurdity of them does consist. 
 
 And now into what can we more naturally im- 
 prove the whole foregoing discourse, than into that 
 practical inference of our apostle, in the verse before
 
 ON 1 CORINTHIANS III. 19. 255 
 
 the text ? that if any man desires the reputation of 
 wisdom, lie should become a fool, that he may be 
 wise ; that is, a fool to the world, that he may be 
 wise to God. 
 
 Let us not be ashamed of the folly of being sin- 
 cere, and without guile ; without traps and snares 
 in our converse ; of being fearful to build our estates 
 upon the ruin of our consciences ; of preferring the 
 public good before our own private emolument ; and 
 lastly, of being true to all the offices of friendship, 
 the obligations of which are sacred, and will certain- 
 ly be exacted of us by the great judge of all our ac- 
 tions. I say, let us not blush to be found guilty of 
 all these follies, (as some account them,) rather than 
 to be expert in that kind of wisdom, that God him- 
 self, the great fountain of wisdom, has pronounced 
 to be earthly, sensual, devilish ; and of the wretched 
 absurdity of which, all histories, both ecclesiastical 
 and civil, have given us such pregnant and convinc- 
 ing examples. 
 
 Reflect upon Ahithophel, Haman, Sejanus, Caesar 
 Borgia, and other such masters of the arts of policy, 
 who thought they had fixed themselves upon so sure 
 a bottom, that they might even defy and dare Pro- 
 vidence to the face ; and yet how did God bring an 
 absolute disappointment, like one great blot, over all 
 their fine, artificial contrivances ! 
 
 Every one of those mighty and profound sages 
 coming to a miserable and disastrous end. 
 
 The consideration of which, and the like passages, 
 one would think, should make men grow weary of 
 dodging and shewing tricks with God in their own 
 crooked ways : and even force them to acknowledge 
 it for the surest and most unfailing prudence, wholly
 
 256 A SERMON ON 1 COR. III. 19. 
 
 to commit their persons and concerns to the wise 
 and good providence of God, in the strait and open 
 ways of his own commands. 
 
 Who, we may be confident, is more tenderly con- 
 cerned for the good of those that truly fear and 
 serve him, than it is possible for the most selfish of 
 men to be concerned for themselves : and who, in all 
 the troubles and disturbances, all the cross, difficult, 
 and perplexing passages that can fall out, will be 
 sure to guide all to this happy issue ; that all things 
 shall work together for good to those that love 
 God. 
 
 To which God, infinitely wise, holy, and just, be 
 rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, 
 might, majesty, and dominion, both now and for 
 evermore. Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT CHRIST-CHURCH, OXON, 
 
 BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY, 
 
 MAY 3, 1685. 
 
 2 COR. viii. 12. 
 
 For iftJicre be first a willing mind, it is accepted according 
 to t/utt a man hath, and not according- to that he hath not. 
 
 IN dealing with men's consciences, for the taking 
 them off from sin, I know nothing of so direct and 
 efficacious an influence, as the right stating of those 
 general rules and principles of action, that men are 
 apt to guide their lives and consciences by : for if 
 these be true, and withal rightly applied, men must 
 needs proceed upon firm and safe grounds; but if 
 either false in themselves, or not right in their par- 
 ticular application, the whole course that men are 
 thereby engaged in, being founded in sin and error, 
 must needs lead to, and at length end in, death and 
 confusion : there being (as the wise man tells us) a 
 way that may seem right in a man's own eyes, 
 when, nevertheless, the end of that way is death. 
 
 Now as amongst these principles or rules of ac- 
 tion, the pretences of the Spirit, and of tenderness of 
 conscience, and the like, have been the late grand 
 
 VOL. i. s
 
 258 A SERMON 
 
 artifices, by which crafty and designing hypocrites 
 have so much abused the world ; so I shall now in- 
 stance in another of no less note, by which the gene- 
 rality of men are as apt to abuse themselves ; and 
 that is a certain rule or sentence got almost into 
 every man's mouth, that God accepts the will for 
 the deed. A principle (as usually applied) of less 
 malice, I confess ; but, considering the easiness, and 
 withal the fatality of the delusion, of more mischief 
 than the other. 
 
 And this I shall endeavour to search into, and lay 
 open, in the following discourse. 
 
 The words hold forth a general rule or proposition 
 delivered upon a particular occasion : which was the 
 apostle's exhorting the Corinthians to an holy and 
 generous emulation of the charity of the Macedoni- 
 ans, in contributing freely to the relief of the poor 
 saints at Jerusalem : upon this great encourage- 
 ment, that in all such works of charity, it is the 
 will that gives worth to the oblation, and, as to God's 
 acceptance, sets the poorest giver upon the same 
 level with the richest. Nor is this all ; but so per- 
 fectly does the value of all charitable acts take its 
 measure and proportion from the will, and from the 
 fulness of the heart, rather than that of the hand, 
 that a lesser supply may be oftentimes a greater cha- 
 rity ; and the widow's mite, in the balance of the 
 sanctuary, outweigh the shekels, and perhaps the 
 talents of the most opulent and wealthy: the all 
 and utmost of the one, being certainly a nobler alms, 
 than the superfluities of the other : and all this upon 
 the account of the great rule here set down in the 
 text: That, in all transactions between God and 
 man, wheresoever there is a full resolution, drift, and
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 259 
 
 purpose of will to please God, there, what a man 
 can do, shall, by virtue thereof, be accepted, and 
 what he cannot do, shall not be required. From 
 whence these two propositions, in sense and design 
 much the same, do naturally result. 
 
 I. The first of them expressed in the words ; to 
 wit, that God accepts the will, where there is no 
 power to perform. 
 
 II. The other of them implied ; namely, that 
 where there is a power to perform, God does not ac- 
 cept the will. 
 
 Of all the spiritual tricks and legerdemain, by 
 which men are apt to shift off their duty, and to im- 
 pose upon their own souls, there is none so common, 
 and of so fatal an import, as these two ; the plea of 
 a good intention, and the plea of a good will. 
 
 One or both of them being used by men, almost 
 at every turn, to elude the precept, to put God off 
 with something instead of obedience, and so, in ef- 
 fect, to outwit him whom they are called to obey. 
 They are certainly two of the most effectual instru- 
 ments and engines in the devil's hands, to wind and 
 turn the souls of men by, to whatsoever he pleases. 
 For, 
 
 1. The plea of a good intention will serve to sanc- 
 tify and authorize the very worst of actions. The 
 proof of which is but too full and manifest, from 
 that lewd and scandalous doctrine of the Jesuits 
 concerning the direction of the intention, and like- 
 wise from the whole manage of the late accursed re- 
 bellion. In which, it was this insolent and impudent 
 pretence, that emboldened the worst of men to wade 
 through the blood of the best of kings, and the loy- 
 alest of subjects ; namely, that in all that risk of vil- 
 
 s 2
 
 260 A SERMON 
 
 lainy, their hearts, forsooth, were right towards 
 God; and that all their plunder and rapine was for 
 nothing else, but to place Christ on his throne, and 
 to establish amongst us the power of godliness, and 
 the purity of the gospel ; by a further reformation 
 (as the cant goes) of a church, which had but too 
 much felt the meaning of that word before. 
 
 But such persons consider not, that though an ill 
 intention is certainly sufficient to spoil and corrupt 
 an act in itself materially good ; yet no good inten- 
 tion whatsoever can rectify or infuse a moral good- 
 ness into an act otherwise evil. To come to church, 
 is, no doubt, an act in itself materially good ; yet he 
 who does it with an ill intention, comes to God's 
 house upon the devil's errand ; and the whole act is 
 thereby rendered absolutely evil and detestable be- 
 fore God. But on the other side ; if it were possible 
 for a man to intend well, while he does ill ; yet no 
 such intention, though never so good, can make that 
 man steal, lie, or murder with a good conscience ; or 
 convert a wicked action into a good. 
 
 For these things are against the nature of moral- 
 ity ; in which, nothing is or can be really good, with- 
 out an universal concurrence of all the principles 
 and ingredients requisite to a moral action ; though 
 the failure of any one of them will imprint a ma- 
 lignity upon that act, which, in spite of all the other 
 requisite ingredients, shall stamp it absolutely evil, 
 and corrupt it past the cure of a good intention. 
 
 And thus, as I have shewn, that the plea of a 
 good intention is used by men to warrant and pa- 
 tronize the most villainous and wicked actions ; so, 
 in the next place, the plea of a good will will be 
 found equally efficacious to supersede and take off
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 261 
 
 the necessity of all holy and good actions. For still 
 (as I have observed) the great art of the devil, and 
 the principal deceit of the heart, is, to put a trick 
 upon the command, and to keep fair with God him- 
 self, while men fall foul upon his laws. For both 
 law and gospel call aloud for active obedience, and 
 such a piety as takes not up either with faint no- 
 tions, or idle, insignificant inclinations, but such an 
 one as shews itself in the solid instances of practice 
 and performance. For, Do this and live, saith the 
 law, Luke x. 28. and, If ye know these things, 
 happy are ye if ye do them, says the gospel, John 
 xiii. 17. and, Not every one that saith, Lord, Lord, 
 shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that 
 doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven, 
 Matt. vii. 21. and, Let no man deceive you; he 
 that d&eth righteousness is righteous, 1 John iii. 7. 
 with innumerable more such places. All of them 
 terrible and severe injunctions of practice, and 
 equally severe obligations to it. 
 
 But then in comes the benign latitude of the doc- 
 trine of good will, and cuts asunder all these hard, 
 pinching cords ; and tells you, that if this be but 
 piously and well inclined, if the bent of the spirit (as 
 some call it) be towards God and goodness, God ac- 
 cepts of this above, nay, instead of all external 
 works ; those being but the shell, or husk, this the 
 kernel, the quintessence, and the very soul of duty. 
 But for all this, these bents and propensities and in- 
 clinations will not do the business : the bare bending 
 of the bow will not hit the mark without shooting 
 the arrow ; and men are not called to will, but to 
 work out their salvation. 
 
 But what then? Is it not as certain from the 
 
 s 3
 
 262 A SERMON 
 
 text, that God* sometimes accepts the will, as it is 
 from those forementioned scriptures, that God com- 
 mands the deed ? Yes, no doubt : since it is impos- 
 sible for the Holy/rhost to contradict that in one 
 place of scripture, which he had affirmed in another. 
 In all the foregoing places, doing is expressly com- 
 manded, and no happiness allowed to any thing 
 short of it ; and yet here God is said to accept of the 
 will; and can both these stand together without 
 manifest contradiction ? That which enjoins the 
 deed is certainly God's law ; and it is also as cer- 
 tain, that the scripture that allows of the will is nei- 
 ther the abrogation, nor derogation, nor dispensation, 
 nor relaxation of that law. 
 
 In order to the clearing of which, I shall lay down 
 these two assertions. 
 
 (1.) That every law of God commands the obedi- 
 ence of the whole man. 
 
 (2.) That the will is never accepted by God, but 
 as it is the obedience of the whole man. 
 
 So that the allowance or acceptance of the will, 
 mentioned in the text, takes off nothing from the 
 obligation of those laws, in which the deed is so 
 plainly and positively enjoined ; but is only an inter- 
 pretation or declaration of the true sense of those 
 laws, shewing the equity of them : which is as really 
 essential to every law, and gives it its obliging force 
 as much as the justice of it ; and indeed, is not an- 
 other, or a distinct thing from the justice of it, any 
 more than a particular case is from an universal 
 rule. 
 
 But you will say, how can the obedience of the 
 will ever be proved to be the obedience of the whole 
 man ?
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 263 
 
 For answer to which, we are first to consider 
 every man as a moral, and consequently as a rational 
 agent ; and then to consider, what is the office and 
 influence of the will in every moral action. Now 
 the morality of an action is founded in the freedom 
 of that principle, by virtue of which, it is in the 
 agent's power, having all things ready and requisite 
 to the performance of an action, either to perform 
 or not to perform it. And as the will is endued 
 with this freedom, so is it also endued with a power 
 to command all the other faculties, both of soul and 
 body, to execute what it has so willed or decreed, 
 and that without resistance ; so that upon the last 
 dictate of the will for the doing of such or such a 
 thing, all the other faculties proceed immediately to 
 act according to their respective offices. By which 
 it is manifest, that in point of action, the will is vir- 
 tually the whole man ; as containing in it all that, 
 which by virtue of his other faculties he is able to 
 do : just as the spring of a watch is virtually the 
 whole motion of the watch ; forasmuch as it imparts 
 a motion to all the wheels of it. 
 
 Thus as to the soul. If the will bids the under- 
 standing think, study, and consider ; it will accord- 
 ingly apply itself to thought, study, and considera- 
 tion. If it bids the affections love, rejoice, or be an- 
 gry ; an act of love, joy, or anger will follow. And 
 then for the body ; if the will bids the leg go, it 
 goes ; if it bids the hand do this, it does it. So that 
 a man is a moral agent only, as he is endued with, 
 and acts by a free and commanding principle of 
 will. 
 
 And therefore, when God says, My son, give me 
 thy heart, (which there signifies the will,) it is as 
 
 s 4
 
 264 A SERMON 
 
 much as if he had commanded the service of the 
 whole man ; for whatsoever the will commands, the 
 whole man must do : the empire or dominion of the 
 will over all the faculties of soul and body (as to 
 most of the operations of each of them) being abso- 
 lutely overruling and despotical. From whence it 
 follows, that when the will has exerted an act of 
 command upon any faculty of the soul, or member 
 of the body, it has, by so doing, done all that the 
 whole man, as a moral agent, can do, for the actual 
 exercise or employment of such a faculty or mem- 
 ber. And if so, then what is not done in such a 
 case, is certainly not in a man's power to do ; and 
 consequently, is no part of the obedience required of 
 him : no man being commanded or obliged to obey 
 beyond his power. And therefore, the obedience of 
 the will to God's commands, is the obedience of the 
 whole man, (forasmuch as it includes and infers it,) 
 which was the assertion that we undertook to prove. 
 But you will say, if the prerogative of the will be 
 such, that where it commands the hand to give an 
 alms, the leg to kneel, or to go to church, or the 
 tongue to utter a prayer, all these things will in- 
 fallibly be done ; suppose we now, a man be bound 
 hand and foot by some outward violence, or be laid 
 up with the gout, or disabled for any of these func- 
 tions by a palsy; can the will, by its command, 
 make a man in such a condition utter a prayer, or 
 kneel, or go to church ? No, it is manifest it cannot : 
 but then you are to know also, that neither is vocal 
 prayer, or bodily kneeling, or going to church, in 
 such a case, any part of the obedience required of 
 such a person : but that act of his will hitherto 
 spoken of, that would have put his body upon all
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 265 
 
 these actions, had there been no impediment) is that 
 man's whole obedience ; and for that very cause 
 that it is so, and for no other, it stands here ac- 
 cepted by God. 
 
 From all which discourse, this must naturally and 
 directly be inferred, as a certain truth, and the 
 chief foundation of all that can be said upon this 
 subject : namely, that whosoever wills the doing of 
 a thing, if the doing of it be in his power, he will 
 certainly do it ; and whosoever does not do that 
 thing, which he has in his power to do, does not 
 really and properly will it. For though the act of 
 the will commanding, and the act of any other 
 faculty of the soul or body executing that which is 
 so commanded, be physically, and in the precise na- 
 ture of things, distinct and several ; yet morally, as 
 they proceed in subordination, from one entire, free, 
 moral agent, both in divinity and morality, they pass 
 but for one and the same action. 
 
 Now, that from the foregoing particulars we may 
 come to understand how far this rule of God's ac- 
 cepting the will for the deed holds good in the sense 
 of the apostle, we must consider in it these three 
 things : 
 
 1. The original ground and reason of it. 
 
 2. The just measure and bounds of it : and, 
 
 3. The abuse or misapplication of it. 
 
 ' And first for the original ground and reason of 
 this rule ; it is founded upon that great, self-evident, 
 and eternal truth, that the just, the wise, and good 
 God neither does nor can require of man any 
 thing that is impossible, or naturally beyond his 
 power to do : and therefore, in the second place, the 
 measure of this rule, by which the just extent and
 
 266 A SERMON 
 
 bounds of it are to be determined, must be that 
 power or ability that man naturally has to do, or 
 perform the things willed by him. So that where- 
 soever such a power is found, there this rule of God's 
 accepting the will has no place ; and wheresoever 
 such a power is not found, there this rule presently 
 becomes in force. And accordingly, in the third 
 and last place, the abuse or misapplication of this 
 rule will consist in these two things : 
 
 1. That men do very often take that to be an act 
 of the will, that really and truly is not so. 
 
 2. That they reckon many things impossible that 
 indeed are not impossible. 
 
 And first, to begin with men's mistakes about the 
 will, and the acts of it ; I shall note these three, by 
 which men are extremely apt to impose upon them- 
 selves. 
 
 (1.) As first, the bare approbation of the worth 
 and goodness of a thing, is not properly the willing 
 of that thing ; and yet men do very commonly ac- 
 count it so. But this is properly an act of the 
 understanding or judgment ; a faculty wholly dis- 
 tinct from the will ; and which makes a principal 
 part of that which in divinity we call natural con- 
 science ; and in the strength of which a man may 
 approve of things good and excellent, without ever 
 willing or intending the practice of them. And ac- 
 cordingly, the apostle, Rom. ii. 18. gives us an ac- 
 count of some who approved of things excellent, and 
 yet practised, and consequently willed, things clean 
 contrary ; since no man can commit a sin, but he 
 must will it first. Whosoever observes and looks 
 into the workings of his own heart, will find that 
 noted sentence, Video meliora proboque, deter iora
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 267 
 
 sequor, too frequently and fatally verified upon him- 
 self. The viith of the Romans (which has been 
 made the unhappy scene of so much controversy 
 about these matters) has several passages to this 
 purpose. In a word, to judge what ought to be 
 done is one thing, and to will the doing of it is 
 quite another. 
 
 No doubt, virtue is a beautiful and a glorious 
 thing in the eyes of the most vicious person breath- 
 ing ; and all that he does or can hate in it, is the 
 difficulty of its practice : for it is practice alone that 
 divides the world into virtuous and vicious ; but 
 otherwise, as to the theory and speculation of virtue 
 and vice, honest and dishonest, the generality of 
 mankind are much the same; for men do not ap- 
 prove of virtue by choice and free election ; but it is 
 an homage which nature commands all understand- 
 ings to pay to it, by necessary determination ; and 
 yet after all, it is but a faint, un active thing ; for in 
 defiance of the judgment, the will may still remain 
 as perverse, and as much a stranger to virtue, as it 
 was before. In fine, there is as much difference 
 between the approbation of the judgment, and the 
 actual volitions of the will, with relation to the 
 same object, as there is between a man's viewing a 
 desirable thing with his eye, and his reaching after 
 it with his hand. 
 
 (2.) The wishing of a thing is not properly the 
 willing of it ; though too often mistaken by men for 
 such : but it is that which is called by the schools 
 an imperfect velleity, and imports no more than an 
 idle unoperative complacency in, and desire of the 
 end, without any consideration of, nay, for the most 
 part, with a direct abhorrence of the means ; of
 
 268 A SERMON 
 
 which nature I account that wish of Balaam, in 
 Numbers xxiii. 10. Let me die the death of the 
 righteous, and let my last end be like his. 
 
 The thing itself appeared desirable to him, and 
 accordingly he could not but like and desire it ; but 
 then it was after a very irrational, absurd way, and 
 contrary to all the methods and principles of a ra- 
 tional agent ; which never wills a thing really and 
 properly, but it applies to the means, by which it is 
 to.be acquired. But at that very time that Balaam 
 desired to die the death of the righteous, he was 
 actually following the wages of unrighteousness, and 
 so thereby engaged in a course quite contrary to 
 what he desired ; and consequently such as could 
 not possibly bring him to such an end. Much like 
 the sot that cried, Utinam hoc esset laborare, while 
 he lay lazing and lolling upon his couch. 
 
 But every true act of volition imports a respect to 
 the end, by and through the means ; and wills a 
 thing only in that way, in which it is to be com- 
 passed or effected ; which is the foundation of that 
 most true aphorism, That he who wills the end, 
 wills also the means. The truth of which is founded 
 in such a necessary connection of the terms, that I 
 look upon the proposition, not only as true, but as 
 convertible ; and that, as a man cannot truly and 
 properly will the end, but he must also will the 
 means ; so neither can he will the means, but he 
 must virtually, and by interpretation at least, will 
 the end. Which is so true, that in the account 
 of the divine law, a man is reckoned to will even 
 those things that naturally are not the object of de- 
 sire ; such as death itself, Ezek. xviii. 81. only be- 
 cause he wills those ways and courses, that naturally
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 2G9 
 
 tend to and end in it. And even our own common 
 law looks upon a man's raising arms against, or im- 
 prisoning his prince, as an imagining or compassing 
 of his death : forasmuch as these actions are the 
 means directly leading to it, and, for the most part, 
 actually concluding in it : and consequently, that 
 the willing of the one is the willing of the other 
 also. 
 
 To will a thing therefore, is certainly much another 
 thing from what the generality of men, especially in 
 their spiritual concerns, take it to be. I say, in 
 their spiritual concerns ; for in their temporal, it is 
 manifest that they think and judge much otherwise; 
 and in the things of this world, no man is allowed 
 or believed to will any thing heartily, which he does 
 not endeavour after proportionably. A wish is pro- 
 perly ajrian of desire, sitting, or lying still ; but an 
 act of the will, is a man of business vigorously going 
 about his work : and certainly there is a great deal 
 of difference between a man's stretching out his 
 arms to work, and his stretching them out only to 
 yawn. 
 
 (3.) And lastly, a mere inclination to a thing is 
 not properly a willing of that thing; and yet in 
 matters of duty, no doubt, men frequently reckon it 
 for such. For otherwise, why should they so often 
 plead and rest in the goodness of their hearts, and 
 the honest and well inclined disposition of their 
 minds, when they are justly charged with an actual 
 non-performance of what the law requires of them ? 
 
 But that an inclination to a thing is not a willing 
 of that thing, is irrefragably proved by this one 
 argument, that a man may act virtuously against 
 his inclination, but not against his will. He may be
 
 270 A SERMON 
 
 inclined to one thing, and yet will another ; and 
 therefore, inclination and will are not the same. 
 
 For a man may be naturally inclined to pride, 
 lust, anger, and strongly inclined so too, (foras- 
 much as these inclinations are founded in a peculiar 
 crasis and constitution of the blood and spirits,) and 
 yet by a steady, frequent repetition of the contrary 
 acts of humility, chastity, and meekness, carried 
 thereto by his will, (a principle not to be controlled 
 by the blood or spirits,) he may at length plant in his 
 soul all those contrary habits of virtue : and there- 
 fore it is certain, that while inclination bends the 
 soul one way, a well-disposed and resolved will may 
 effectually draw it another. A sufficient demonstra- 
 tion, doubtless, that they are two very different 
 things ; for where there may be a contrariety, there 
 is certainly a diversity. A good inclination is but 
 the first rude draught of virtue ; but the finishing 
 strokes are from the will ; which, if well-disposed, 
 will by degrees perfect ; if ill-disposed, will, by the 
 superinduction of ill habits, quickly deface it. 
 
 God never accepts a good inclination, instead of a 
 good action, where that action may be done ; nay, so 
 much the contrary, that if a good inclination be not 
 seconded by a good action, the want of that action 
 is thereby made so much the more criminal and in- 
 excusable. 
 
 A man may be naturally well and virtuously in- 
 clined, and yet never do one good or virtuous action 
 all his life. A bowl may lie still for all its bias ; 
 but it is impossible for a man to will virtue and vir- 
 tuous actions heartily, but he must in the same de- 
 gree offer at the practice of them : forasmuch as the 
 dictates of the will are (as we have shewn) despoti-
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 271 
 
 cal, and command the whole man. It being a con- 
 tradiction in morality, for the will to go one way, 
 and the man another. 
 
 And thus as to the first abuse or misapplication 
 of the great rule mentioned in the text, about God's 
 accepting the will, I have shewn three notable mis- 
 takes, which men are apt to entertain concerning 
 the will ; and proved that neither a bare approbation 
 of, nor a mere wishing, or unactive complacency in, 
 nor lastly, a natural inclination to, things virtuous 
 and good, can pass before God for a man's willing of 
 such things ; and consequently, if men upon this ac- 
 count will needs take up and acquiesce in an airy, 
 ungrounded persuasion, that they will those things 
 which really they do not will, they fall thereby into 
 a gross and fatal delusion : a delusion that must 
 and will' shut the door of salvation against them. 
 They catch at heaven, but embrace a cloud ; they 
 mock God, who will not be mocked ; and deceive 
 their own souls, which, God knows, may too easily 
 be both deceived and destroyed too. 
 
 2. Come we now in the next place to consider 
 the other way, by which men are prone to abuse 
 and pervert this important rule of God's accounting 
 the will for the deed ; and that is, by reckoning 
 many things impossible, which in truth are not im- 
 possible. 
 
 And this I shall make appear by shewing some of 
 the principal instances of duty, for the performance 
 of which, men commonly plead want of power ; and 
 thereupon persuade themselves, that God and the 
 law rest satisfied with their will. 
 
 Now these instances are four. 
 
 (1.) In duties of very great and hard labour. La-
 
 272 A SERMON 
 
 hour is confessedly a great part of the curse ; and 
 therefore, no wonder, if men fly from it : which 
 they do with so great an aversion, that few men 
 know their own strength for want of trying it ; and, 
 upon that account, think themselves really unable 
 to do many things, which experience would convince 
 them, they have more ability to effect, than they 
 have will to attempt. 
 
 It is idleness that creates impossibilities ; and, 
 where men care not to do a thing, they shelter 
 themselves under a persuasion, that it cannot be 
 done. The shortest and the surest way to prove a 
 work possible, is strenuously to set about it ; and no 
 wonder, if that proves it possible, that, for the most 
 part, makes it so. 
 
 Dig, says the unjust steward, I cannot. But why ? 
 Did either his legs or his arms fail him ? No ; but 
 day-labour was but an hard and a dry kind of 
 livelihood to a man that could get an estate with 
 two or three strokes of his pen ; and find so great a 
 treasure as he did, without digging for it. 
 
 But such excuses will not pass muster with God, 
 who will allow no man's humour or idleness to be 
 the measure of possible or impossible. And to 
 manifest the wretched hypocrisy of such pretences, 
 those very things, which upon the bare obligation of 
 duty are declined by men as impossible, presently 
 become not only possible, but readily practicable too, 
 in a case of extreme necessity. As no doubt that 
 forementioned instance of fraud and laziness, the 
 unjust steward, who pleaded that he could neither 
 dig nor beg, would quickly have been brought both 
 to dig and to beg too, rather than starve. And if 
 so, what reason could such an one produce before
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 273 
 
 God, why he could not submit to the same hard- 
 ships, rather than cheat and lie ? The former being 
 but destructive of the body, this latter of the soul : 
 and certainly the highest and dearest concerns of a 
 temporal life are infinitely less valuable than those 
 of an eternal ; and consequently ought, without any 
 demur at all, to be sacrificed to them, whensoever 
 they come in competition with them. He who can 
 digest any labour, rather than die, must refuse no 
 labour, rather than sin. 
 
 (2.) The second instance shall be in duties of 
 great and apparent danger. Danger (as the world 
 goes) generally absolves from duty : this being a 
 case in which most men, according to a very ill 
 sense, will needs be a law to themselves. And 
 where it is not safe for them to be religious, their 
 religion shall be to be safe. But Christianity teaches 
 us a very different lesson : for if fear of suffering 
 could take off the necessity of obeying, the doctrine 
 of the cross would certainly be a very idle and a 
 senseless thing ; and Christ would never have prayed, 
 Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me, 
 had the bitterness of the draught made it impossible 
 to be drunk of. If death and danger are things 
 that really cannot be endured, no man could ever 
 be obliged to suffer for his conscience, or to die for 
 his religion ; it being altogether as absurd, to imagine 
 a man obliged to suffer, as to do impossibilities. 
 
 But those primitive heroes of the Christian church 
 could not so easily blow off the doctrine of passive 
 obedience, as to make the fear of being passive a 
 discharge from being obedient. No, they found 
 martyrdom not only possible, but in many cases a 
 duty also ; a duty dressed up indeed with all that 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 A SERMON 
 
 was terrible and afflictive to human nature, yet not 
 at all the less a duty for being so. And such an 
 height of Christianity possessed those noble souls, 
 that every martyr could keep one eye steadily fixed 
 upon his duty, and look death and danger out of 
 countenance with the other : nor did they flinch 
 from duty for fear of martyrdom, when one of the 
 most quickening motives to duty was their desire of 
 it. 
 
 But to prove the possibility of a thing, there is 
 no argument like to that which looks backwards; 
 for what has been done or suffered, may certainly be 
 done or suffered again. And to prove that men 
 may be martyrs, there needs no other demonstra- 
 tion, than to shew that many have been so. Besides 
 that the grace of God has not so far abandoned the 
 Christian world, but that those high primitive in- 
 stances of passive fortitude in the case of duty and 
 danger rivalling one another, have been exemplified 
 and (as it were) revived by several glorious copies of 
 them in the succeeding ages of the church. 
 
 And (thanks be to God) we need not look very 
 far backward for some of them, even amongst our- 
 selves. For when a violent, victorious faction and 
 rebellion had overrun all, and made loyalty to the 
 king and conformity to the church crimes unpar- 
 donable, and of a guilt not to be expiated, but at 
 the price of life or estate ; when men were put to 
 swear away all interest in the next world, to se- 
 cure a very poor one in this ; (for they had then 
 oaths to murder souls, as well as sword and pistol 
 for the body ; nay,) when the persecution ran so 
 high, that that execrable monster Cromwell made 
 and published that barbarous, heathenish, or rather
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 275 
 
 inhuman edict against the poor suffering episcopal 
 clergy, That they should neither preach nor pray in 
 public, nor baptize, nor marry, nor bury, nor teach 
 school, no, nor so much as live in any gentleman's 
 house, who in mere charity and compassion might 
 be inclined to take them in from perishing in the 
 streets ; that is, in other words, that they must 
 starve and die ex officio, and being turned out of 
 their churches, take possession only of the church- 
 yard, as so many victims to the remorseless rage of a 
 foul, ill bred tyrant, professing piety without so 
 much as common humanity : I say, when rage and 
 persecution, cruelty and Cromwellism were at that 
 diabolical pitch, tyrannizing over every thing that 
 looked like loyalty, conscience, and conformity; so 
 that he, who took not their engagement, could not 
 take any -thing else, though it were given him ; be- 
 ing thereby debarred from the very common benefit 
 of the law, in suing for or recovering of his right in 
 any of their courts of justice, (all of them still fol- 
 lowing the motion of the high one ;) yet even then, 
 and under that black and dismal state of things, 
 there were many thousands who never bowed the 
 knee to Baal-Cromwell, Baal-covenant, or Baal- 
 engagement ; but with a steady, fixed, unshaken re- 
 solution, and in a glorious imitation of those heroic 
 Christians in the tenth and eleventh chapters of the 
 epistle to the Hebrews, endured a great fight of af- 
 flictions, were made a gazing-stock by reproaches, 
 took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, had trial 
 of cruel mockings ; moreover of bonds and im- 
 prisonments ; sometimes were tempted, sometimes 
 were slain with the sword, ivandered about in hun- 
 ger and nakedness, being destitute, afflicted, tor- 
 
 T 2
 
 276 A SERMON 
 
 merited. All which sufferings surely ought to entitle 
 them to that concluding character in the next words, 
 of whom the world was not worthy. And I wish 
 I could say of England, that it were worthy of those 
 men now. For I look upon the old church of Eng- 
 land royalists (which I take to be only another name 
 for a man who prefers his conscience before his in- 
 terest) to be the best Christians and the most meri- 
 torious subjects in the world; as having passed all 
 those terrible tests and trials, which conquering, 
 domineering malice could put them to, and carried 
 their credit and their conscience clear and trium- 
 phant through, and above them all, constantly firm 
 and immoveable, by all that they felt either from 
 their professed enemies or their false friends. And 
 what these men did and suffered, others might have 
 done and suffered too. 
 
 But they, good men, had another and more artifi- 
 cial sort of conscience, and a way to interpret off a 
 command, where they found it dangerous or unpro- 
 fitable to do it. 
 
 " God knows my heart, (says one,) I love the king 
 " cordially : and I wish well to the church, (says 
 " another,) but you see the state of things is altered ; 
 " and we cannot do what we would do. Our will 
 " is good, and the king gracious, and we hope he 
 " will accept of this, and dispense with the rest." 
 A goodly present, doubtless, as they meant it ; and 
 such as they might freely give, and yet part with 
 nothing ; and the king, on the other hand, receive, 
 and gain just as much. 
 
 But now, had the whole nation mocked God and 
 their king at this shuffling, hypocritical rate, what 
 an odious, infamous people must that rebellion have
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 277 
 
 represented the English to all posterity ? Where 
 had been the honour of the reformed religion, that 
 could not afford a man Christian enough to suffer 
 for his God and his prince ? But the old royalists 
 did both, and thereby demonstrated to the world, 
 that no danger could make duty impossible. 
 
 And, upon my conscience, if we may assign any 
 other reason or motive of the late mercies of God to 
 these poor kingdoms, besides his own proneness to 
 shew mercy, it was for the sake of the old, suf- 
 fering cavaliers, and for the sake of none else what- 
 soever, that God delivered us from the two late ac- 
 cursed conspiracies. For they were the brats and off- 
 spring of two contrary factions, both of them equally 
 mortal and inveterate enemies of our church ; which 
 they have been, and still are, perpetually pecking 
 and striking at, with the same malice, though with 
 different methods. 
 
 In a word : the old, tried church of England 
 royalists were the men, who, in the darkest and 
 foulest day of persecution that ever befell England, 
 never pleaded the will in excuse of the deed, but 
 proved the integrity and loyalty of their wills, both 
 by their deeds and their sufferings too. 
 
 But, on the contrary, when duty and danger stand 
 confronting one another, and when the law of God 
 says, Obey and assist your king ; and the faction 
 says, Do if you dare : for men, in such a case, to 
 think to divide themselves, and to pretend that 
 their will obeys that law, while all besides their 
 will obeys and serves the faction ; what is this but 
 a gross fulsome juggling with their duty, and a kind 
 of trimming it between God and the devil ? 
 
 These things I thought fit to remark to you, not 
 
 T 3
 
 278 A SERMON 
 
 out of any intemperate humour of reflecting upon 
 the late times of confusion, (as the guilt or spite 
 of some may suggest,) but because I am satisfied in 
 my heart and conscience, that it is vastly the con- 
 cern of his majesty, and of the peace of his govern- 
 ment, both in church and state, that the youth of 
 the nation (of which such auditories as this chiefly 
 consist) should be principled and possessed with a 
 full, fixed, and thorough persuasion of the justness 
 and goodness of the blessed old king's cause ; and 
 of the excellent piety and Christianity of those prin- 
 ciples, upon which the loyal part of the nation ad- 
 hered to him, and that against the most horrid and 
 inexcusable rebellion that was ever set on foot, and 
 acted upon the stage of the world : of all which, 
 whosoever is not persuaded, is a rebel in his heart, 
 and deserves not the protection which he enjoys. 
 
 And the rather do I think such remarks as these 
 necessary of late years, because of the vile arts and 
 restless endeavours used by some sly and venomous 
 factors for the old republican cause, to poison and 
 debauch men from their allegiance; sometimes creep- 
 ing into houses, and sometimes creeping into studies ; 
 but in both equally pimping for the faction, and 
 stealing away as many hearts from the son, as they 
 had formerly employed hands against the father. 
 And this with such success, that it cannot but be 
 matter of very sad and melancholy reflection to all 
 sober and loyal minds, to consider, that several who 
 had stood it out, and persevered firm and unalterable 
 royalists in the late storm, have since (I know not 
 by what unhappy fate) turned trimmers in the 
 calm. 
 
 (3.) The third instance, in which men use to plead
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 27;* 
 
 the will instead of the deed, shall be in duties of 
 cost and expense. 
 
 Let a business of expensive charity be proposed ; 
 and then, as I shewed before, that, in matters of 
 labour, the lazy person could find no hands where- 
 with to work ; so neither, in this case, can the re- 
 ligious miser find any hands wherewith to give. 
 It is wonderful to consider, how a command, or call 
 to be liberal, either upon a civil or religious account, 
 all of a sudden impoverishes the rich, breaks the 
 merchant, shuts up every private man's exchequer, 
 and makes those men in a minute have nothing at 
 all to give, who, at the very same instant, want 
 nothing to spend. So that instead of relieving the 
 poor, such a command strangely increases their 
 number, and transforms rich men into beggars pre- 
 sently. -For, let the danger of their prince and 
 country knock at their purses, and call upon them 
 to contribute against a public enemy or calamity; 
 then immediately they have nothing, and their riches 
 upon such occasions (as Solomon expresses it) never 
 fail to make themselves wings, and to fly away. 
 
 Thus, at the siege of Constantinople, then the 
 wealthiest city in the world, the citizens had nothing 
 to give their emperor for the defence of the place, 
 though he begged a supply of them with tears ; but, 
 when by that means the Turks took and sacked it, 
 then those who before had nothing to give, had 
 more than enough to lose. And in like manner, 
 those who would not support the necessities of the 
 old blessed king, against his villainous enemies, 
 found that plunder could take, where disloyalty 
 would not give ; and rapine open those chests, that 
 avarice had shut. 
 
 T 4
 
 280 A SERMON 
 
 But to descend to matters of daily and common 
 occurrence ; what is more usual in conversation, 
 than for men to express their unwillingness to do a 
 thing, by saying they cannot do it ; and for a covet- 
 ous man, being asked a little money in charity, to 
 answer that he has none ? Which, as it is, if true, a 
 sufficient answer to God and man ; so, if false, it is 
 intolerable hypocrisy towards both. 
 
 But do men in good earnest think that God will 
 be put off so ? or can they imagine, that the law of 
 God will be baffled with a lie clothed in a scoff? 
 
 For such pretences are no better, as appears from 
 that notable account given us by the apostle of this 
 windy, insignificant charity of the will, and of the 
 worthlessness of it, not enlivened by deeds, James ii. 
 15, 16. If a brother or sister be naked, and de- 
 stitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, 
 Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwith- 
 standing ye give them not those things which are 
 needful to the body ; what doth it profit ? Profit, 
 does he say ? Why, it profits just as much as fair 
 words command the market, as good wishes buy 
 food and raiment, and pass for current payment in 
 the shops. Come to an old, rich, professing vulpony, 
 and tell him, that there is a church to be built, 
 beautified, or endowed in such a place, and that he 
 cannot lay out his money more to God's honour, the 
 public good, and the comfort of his own conscience, 
 than to bestow it liberally upon such an occasion ; 
 and in answer to this, it is ten to one but you shall 
 be told, " how much God is for the inward, spi- 
 " ritual worship of the heart ; and, that the Al- 
 " mighty neither dwells nor delights in temples 
 " made with hands ; but hears and accepts the
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 281 
 
 " prayers of his people in dens and caves, barns and 
 " stables ; and in the homeliest and meanest cottages, 
 " as well as in the stateliest and most magnificent 
 " churches." Thus, I say, you are like to be an- 
 swered. In reply to which, I would have all such 
 sly, sanctified cheats (who are so often harping upon 
 this string) know, once for all, that that God, who 
 accepts the prayers of his people in dens and caves, 
 barns and stables, when, by his afflicting providence, 
 he has driven them from the appointed places of his 
 solemn worship, so that they cannot have the use of 
 them, will not, for all this, endure to be served or 
 prayed to by them in such places, nor accept of 
 their barn-worship, nor their hogsty-worship ; no, 
 nor yet of their parlour or their chamber-worship, 
 where he has given them both wealth and power to 
 build him churches. For he that commands us to 
 worship him in the spirit, commands us also to honour 
 him with our substance. And, never pretend that 
 thou hast an heart to pray, while thou hast no heart 
 to give ; since he that serves mammon with his 
 estate, cannot possibly serve God with his heart. 
 For as in the heathen worship of God, a sacrifice 
 without an heart was accounted ominous ; so in the 
 Christian worship of him, an heart without a sacri- 
 fice is worthless and impertinent. 
 
 And thus much for men's pretences of the will, 
 when they are called upon to give upon a religious 
 account ; according to which, a man may be well 
 enough said (as the common word is) to be all heart, 
 and yet the arrantest miser in the world. 
 
 But come we now to this old rich pretender to 
 godliness, in another case, and tell him, that there
 
 282 A SERMON 
 
 is such an one, a man of a good family, good educa- 
 tion, and who has lost all his estate for the king, 
 now ready to rot in prison for debt ; come, what 
 will you give towards his release ? Why, then an- 
 swers the will instead of the deed, as much the 
 readier speaker of the two, " the truth is, I always 
 " had a respect for such men ; I love them with all 
 " my heart ; and it is a thousand pities that any 
 " that have served the king so faithfully should be 
 " in such want." So say I too, and the more shame 
 is it for the whole nation, that they should be so. 
 But still, what will you give ? Why, then answers 
 the man of mouth-charity again, and tells you, that 
 " you could not come in a worse time ; that money 
 " is nowadays very scarce with him ; and, that 
 " therefore he can give nothing ; but he will be sure 
 " to pray for the poor gentleman." 
 
 Ah thou hypocrite ! when thy brother has lost all 
 that ever he had, and lies languishing, and even 
 gasping under the utmost extremities of poverty 
 and distress, dost thou think thus to lick him whole 
 again, only with thy tongue ? Just like that old 
 formal hocus, who denied a beggar a farthing, and 
 put him off with his blessing. 
 
 Why, what are the prayers of a covetous wretch 
 worth ? What will thy blessing go for ? What will 
 it buy ? Is this the charity that the apostle here, in 
 the text, presses upon the Corinthians ? This the 
 case, in which God accepts the willingness of the 
 mind, instead of the liberality of the purse ? No as- 
 suredly, but the measures that God marks out to 
 thy charity are these : thy superfluities must give 
 place to thy neighbour's great convenience : thy con-
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 283 
 
 venience must veil to thy neighbour's necessity : and 
 lastly, thy very necessities must yield to thy neigh- 
 bour's extremity. 
 
 This is the gradual process that must be thy rule ; 
 and he that pretends a disability to give short of 
 this, prevaricates with his duty, and evacuates the 
 precept. God sometimes calls upon thee to relieve 
 the needs of thy poor brother, sometimes the ne- 
 cessities of thy country, and sometimes the urgent 
 wants of thy prince : now, before thou fliest to 
 the old, stale, usual pretence, that thou canst do none 
 of all these things, consider with thyself, that there 
 is a God, who is not to be flammed off with lies, 
 who knows exactly what thou canst do, and what 
 thou canst not; and consider in the next place, 
 that it is not the best husbandry in the world, to be 
 damned ito save charges. 
 
 (4.) The fourth and last duty that I shall mention, 
 in which men use to plead want of power to do the 
 thing they have a will to, is the conquering of a 
 long, inveterate, ill habit or custom. 
 
 And the truth is, there is nothing that leaves a 
 man less power to good than this does. Never- 
 theless, that which weakens the hand, does not 
 therefore cut it off. Some power to good, no doubt, 
 a man has left him for all this. And therefore, God 
 will not take the drunkard's excuse, that he has so 
 long accustomed himself to intemperate drinking, 
 that now he cannot leave it off; nor admit of the 
 passionate man's apology, that he has so long given 
 his unruly passions their head, that he cannot now 
 govern or control them. For these things are not 
 so : since no man is guilty of an act of intemperance 
 of any sort, but he might have forborn it ; not with-
 
 284 A SERMON 
 
 out some trouble, I confess, from the strugglings of 
 the contrary habit : but still the thing was possible 
 to be done ; and he might, after all, have forborn it. 
 And, as he forbore one act, so he might have for- 
 born another, and after that another, and so on, till 
 he had, by degrees, weakened, and, at length, mor- 
 tified and extinguished the habit itself. That these 
 things, indeed, are not quickly or easily to be ef- 
 fected, is manifest, and nothing will be more readily 
 granted ; and therefore, the scripture itself owns so 
 much, by expressing and representing these morti- 
 fying courses, by acts of the greatest toil and labour ; 
 such as are, warfare, and taking up the cross : and 
 by acts of the most terrible violence and contra- 
 riety to nature ; such as are, cutting off the right 
 hand, and plucking out the right eye; things infi- 
 nitely grievous and afflictive, yet still, for all that, 
 feasible in themselves ; or else, to be sure, the eter- 
 nal wisdom of God would never have advised, and 
 much less have commanded them. For, what God 
 has commanded must be done ; and what must be 
 done, assuredly may be done ; and therefore, all 
 pleas of impotence, or inability, in such cases, are 
 utterly false and impertinent ; and will infallibly be 
 thrown back in the face of such as make them. 
 
 But you will say, Does not the scripture itself ac- 
 knowledge it as a thing impossible for a man, brought 
 under a custom of sin, to forbear sinning ? In Jer. 
 xiii. 23. Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or 
 the leopard his spots ? then may ye also do good, 
 that are accustomed to do evil. Now, if this can 
 be no more done than the former, is it not a demon- 
 stration, that it cannot be done at all ? 
 
 To this I answer, that the words mentioned are
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 285 
 
 tropical or figurative, and import an hyperbole, which 
 is a way of expressing things beyond what really 
 and naturally they are in themselves ; and con- 
 sequently the design of this scripture, in saying 
 that this cannot be done, is no more than to shew, 
 that it is very hardly and very rarely done ; but not, 
 in strict truth, utterly impossible to be done. 
 
 In vain therefore do men take sanctuary in such 
 misunderstood expressions as these ; and from a false 
 persuasion, that they cannot reform their lives, break 
 off their ill customs, and root out their old, vicious 
 habits, never so much as attempt, endeavour, or go 
 about it. For, admit that such an habit, seated in 
 the soul, be, as our Saviour calls it, a strong man 
 armed, got into possession ; yet still he may be dis- 
 possessed, and thrown out by a stronger, Luke xi. 21, 
 22. Or be it, as St. Paul calls it, a law in our mem- 
 bers, Rom. vii. 23. yet certainly, ill laws may be 
 broken and disobeyed, as well as good. But, if men 
 will suffer themselves to be enslaved, and carried 
 away by their lusts, without resistance, and wear 
 the devil's yoke quietly, rather than be at the 
 trouble of throwing it off; and thereupon, some- 
 times feel their consciences galled and grieved by 
 wearing it, they must not from these secret stings 
 and remorses, felt by them in the prosecution of 
 their sins, presently conclude, that therefore their 
 will is good, and well disposed; and consequently, 
 such as God will accept, though their lives remain 
 all the while unchanged, and as much under the do- 
 minion of sin as ever. 
 
 These reasonings, I know, lie deep in the minds 
 of most men, and relieve and support their hearts,
 
 A SERMON 
 
 in spite, and in the midst of their sins ; but they 
 are all but sophistry and delusion, and false propo- 
 sitions contrived by the devil, to hold men fast in 
 their sins by final impenitence. For though pos- 
 sibly the grace of God may, in some cases, be irre- 
 sistible ; yet it would be an infinite reproach to his 
 providence, to affirm, that sin either is or can be so. 
 And thus I have given you four principal instances, 
 in which men use to plead the will instead of the 
 deed, upon a pretended impotence, or disability for 
 the deed : namely, in duties of great labour ; in 
 duties of much danger ; in duties of cost and ex- 
 pense ; and lastly, in duties requiring a resistance 
 and an extirpation of inveterate, sinful habits. 
 
 In the neglect of all which, men relieve their con- 
 sciences by this one great fallacy running through 
 them all, that they mistake difficulties for impos- 
 sibilities. A pernicious mistake certainly ; and the 
 more pernicious, for that men are seldom convinced 
 of it, till their conviction can do them no good. 
 There cannot be a weightier or more important 
 case of conscience for men to be resolved in, than 
 to know certainly how far God accepts the will 
 for the deed, and how far he does not : and withal, 
 to be informed truly when men do really will a 
 thing, and when they have really no power to do 
 what they have willed. 
 
 For surely, it cannot but be matter of very dread- 
 ful and terrifying consideration to any one sober, 
 and in his wits, to think seriously with himself, 
 what horror and confusion must needs surprise that 
 man, at the last and great day of account, who had 
 led his whole life and governed all his actions by
 
 ON 2 CORINTHIANS VIII. 12. 287 
 
 one rule, when God intends to judge him by an- 
 other. 
 
 To which God, the great searcher and judge of 
 hearts, and rewarder of men according to 
 their deeds, be rendered and ascribed, as is 
 most due, all praise, might, majesty, and do- 
 minion, both now and for evermore. Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT CHRIST-CHURCH, OXON, 
 
 BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY, 
 
 OCTOBER 17, 1675. 
 
 JUDGES viii. 34, 35. 
 
 And ilie children of Israel remembered not the Lord their 
 God, who had delivered them out of the hands of all their 
 enemies on every side : neither shewed they kindness to 
 the house of Jerubbaal, namely ', Gideon, according to all 
 the goodness which he had shewed unto Israel. 
 
 J_ HESE words, being a result or judgment given 
 upon matter of fact, naturally direct us to the fore- 
 going story, to inform us of their occasion. The 
 subject of which story was that heroic and victo- 
 rious judge of Israel, Gideon ; who, by the great- 
 ness of his achievments, had merited the offer of a 
 crown and kingdom, and, by the greatness of his 
 mind, refused it. The whole narrative is contained 
 and set before us in the 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th 
 chapters of this book. Where we read, that when 
 the children of Israel, according to their usual method 
 of sinning after mercies and deliverances, and there^ 
 upon returning to a fresh enslavement to their ene- 
 mies, had now passed seven years in cruel subjection 
 to the Midianites, a potent and insulting enemy; 
 and who oppressed them to that degree, that they 
 had scarce bread to fill their mouths, or houses to
 
 ON JUDGES V11I. 34, 35. 289 
 
 cover their heads : for in the 2d verse of the 6th 
 chapter we find them housing themselves under 
 ground, in dens and caves ; and in ver. 3, 4. no 
 sooner had they sown their corn, but we have the 
 enemy coming up in armies, and destroying it. In 
 this sad and calamitous condition, I say, in which 
 one would have thought that a deliverance from 
 such an oppressor would have even revived them, 
 and the deliverer eternally obliged them, God raised 
 up the spirit of this great person, and ennobled his 
 courage and conduct with the entire overthrow of 
 this mighty and numerous, or rather innumerable 
 host of the Midianites ; and that in such a manner, 
 and with such strange and unparalleled circum- 
 stances, that, in the whole action, the mercy and the 
 miracle seemed to strive for the preeminence. And 
 so quick a sense did the Israelites, immediately after 
 it, seem to entertain of the merits of Gideon, and 
 the obligation he had laid upon them, that they all, 
 as one man, tender him the regal and hereditary 
 government of that people, in the 22d verse of this 
 8th chapter : Then said the men of Israel to Gi- 
 deon, Rule thou over us, both thou, and thy son 
 and thy son's son also : for thou hast delivered us 
 from the hand of Midian. To which he answered 
 as magnanimously, and by that answer redoubled 
 the obligation, in the next verse, / will not rule 
 over you, neither shall my son rule over you: the 
 Lord shall rule over you. 
 
 Thus far then we see the workings of a just gra- 
 titude in the Israelites ; and goodness on the one 
 side nobly answered with greatness on the other. 
 And now, after so vast an obligation, owned by so 
 free an acknowledgment, could any thing be ex- 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 A SERMON 
 
 pected, but a continual interchange of kindnesses, at 
 least on their part, who had been so infinitely obliged, 
 and so gloriously delivered ? Yet in the 9th chapter 
 we find these very men turning the sword of Gideon 
 into his own bowels ; cutting off the very race and 
 posterity of their deliverer, by the slaughter of three- 
 score and ten of his sons, and setting up the son of 
 his concubine, the blot of his family, and the monu- 
 ment of his shame, to reign over them ; and all this 
 without the least provocation or offence given them, 
 either by Gideon himself, or by any of his house. 
 After which horrid fact, I suppose we can no longer 
 wonder at this unlooked-for account given of the 
 Israelites in the text: That they remembered not 
 the Lord their God, who had delivered them out 
 of the hands of all their enemies on every side : 
 neither shewed they kindness to the house of Gi- 
 deon, according to all the goodness which he had 
 shewed unto Israel. 
 
 The truth is, they were all along a cross, odd, 
 untoward sort of people, and such as God seems to 
 have chosen, and (as the prophets sometimes phrase 
 it) to have espoused to himself, upon the very same 
 account that Socrates espoused Xantippe, only for 
 her extreme ill conditions, above all that he could 
 possibly find or pick out of that sex ; and so the 
 fittest argument both to exercise and declare his 
 admirable patience to the world. 
 
 The words of the text are a charge given in 
 against the Israelites ; a charge of that foul and 
 odious sin of ingratitude ; and that both towards 
 God and towards man: towards God in the 34th 
 verse, and towards man in the 35th. Such being 
 ever the growing contagion of this ill quality, that if
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 291 
 
 it begins at God, it naturally descends to men ; and 
 if it first exerts itself upon men, it infallibly ascends 
 to God. If we consider it as directed against God, 
 it is a breach of religion ; if as to men, it is an 
 offence against morality. The passage from one to 
 the other is very easy ; breach of duty towards our 
 neighbour still involving in it a breach of duty to- 
 wards God too ; and no man's religion ever survives 
 his morals. 
 
 My purpose is, from this remarkable subject and 
 occasion, to treat of ingratitude, and that chiefly in 
 this latter sense ; and from the case of the Israelites 
 towards Gideon, to traverse the nature, principles, 
 and properties of this detestable vice ; and so draw- 
 ing before your eyes the several lineaments and 
 parts of it, from the ugly aspect of the picture, to 
 leave it^tb your own hearts to judge of the original. 
 For the effecting of which, I shall do these following 
 things : 
 
 I. I shall shew what gratitude is, and upon what 
 the obligation to it is grounded. 
 
 II. I shall give some account of the nature and 
 baseness of ingratitude. 
 
 III. I shall shew the principle from which ingra- 
 titude proceeds. 
 
 IV. I shall shew those ill qualities that inseparably 
 attend it, and are never disjoined from it. And, 
 
 V. and lastly, I shall draw some useful inferences, 
 by way of application, from the premises. 
 
 And first for the first of these : What gratitude 
 is, and upon what the obligation to it is grounded. 
 
 " Gratitude is properly a virtue, disposing the 
 " mind to an inward sense and an outward acknow- 
 
 u 2
 
 292 A SERMON 
 
 " ledgment of a benefit received, together with a 
 " readiness to return the same, or the like, as the oc- 
 " casions of the doer of it shall require, and the 
 " abilities of the receiver extend to." 
 
 This, to me, seems to contain a full description, or 
 rather definition, of this virtue ; from which it ap- 
 pears, that gratitude includes in it these three parts. 
 
 1. A particular observation, or taking notice of a 
 kindness received, and consequently of the good will 
 and affection of the person who did that kindness. 
 For still, in. this case, the mind of the giver is more 
 to be attended to, than the matter of the gift ; it 
 being this that stamps it properly a favour, and 
 gives it the noble and endearing denomination of a 
 kindness. 
 
 2. The second part of gratitude is that which 
 brings it from the heart into the mouth, and makes 
 a man express the sense he has of the benefit done 
 him, by thanks, acknowledgments, and gratulations ; 
 and where the heart is full of the one, it will cer- 
 tainly overflow, and run over in the other. 
 
 3. The third and last is, an endeavour to recom- 
 pense our benefactor, and to do something that may 
 redound to his advantage, in consideration of what 
 he has done towards ours. I state it upon endea- 
 vour, and not upon effect ; for this latter may be 
 often impossible. But it is in the power of every 
 one to do as much as he can ; to make some essay 
 at least, some offer and attempt this way ; so as to 
 shew, that there is a spring of motion within, and 
 that the heart is not idle or insensible, but that it is 
 full and big, and knows itself to be so, though it 
 wants strength to bring forth. Having thus shewn
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 293 
 
 what gratitude is, the next thing is to shew the ob- 
 ligation that it brings upon a man, and the ground 
 and reason of that obligation. 
 
 As for the obligation, I know no moralists or ca- 
 suists, that treat scholastically of justice, but treat of 
 gratitude under that general head, as a part or spe- 
 cies of it. And the nature and office of justice 
 being to dispose the mind to a constant and perpe- 
 tual readiness to render to every man his due, suum 
 culque tribuere, it is evident, that if gratitude be a 
 part of justice, it must be conversant about some 
 thing that is due to another. And whatsoever is so, 
 must be so by the force of some law. Now, all law 
 that a man is capable of being obliged by, is redu- 
 cible to one of these three : 
 
 1. The law of nature. 2. The positive law of 
 God revealed in his word. 3. The law of man, 
 enacted by the civil power, for the preservation and 
 good of society. 
 
 1 . And first for the law of nature, which I take to 
 be nothing else but the mind of God signified to a 
 rational agent, by the bare discourse of his reason, 
 and dictating to him, that he ought to act suitably 
 to the principles of his nature ; and to those rela- 
 tions that he stands under. For every thing sus- 
 tains both an absolute and a relative capacity. An 
 absolute, as it is such a thing endued with such a 
 nature ; and a relative, as it is a part of the universe, 
 and so stands in such an order and relation both to 
 the whole and to the rest of the parts. 
 
 After which, the next consideration immediately 
 subsequent to the being of a thing, is what agrees or 
 disagrees with that thing ; what is suitable or un- 
 suitable to it ; and from this springs the notion of 
 
 u 3
 
 294 A SERMOX 
 
 decency or indecency ; that which becomes or misbe- 
 comes, and is the same with honestum et turpe. 
 Which decency, or TO irfaov, (as the Greeks term it,) 
 imports a certain measure or proportion of one thing 
 to another ; which to transgress, is to do contrary to 
 the natural order of things ; the preservation of 
 which is properly that rule or law by which every 
 thing ought to act ; and consequently, the violation 
 of it implies a turpitude or indecency. Now those 
 actions that are suitable to a rational nature, and to 
 that Trpeirov, that decency or honestum, belonging to 
 it, are contained and expressed in certain maxims or 
 propositions, which, upon the repeated exercise of a 
 man's reason about such objects as come before him, 
 do naturally result, and are collected from thence ; 
 and so remaining upon his mind, become both a 
 rule to direct and a law to oblige him in the whole 
 course of his actions. Such as are these maxims : 
 That the supreme being, cause, and governor of all 
 things, ought to be worshipped and depended upon. 
 That parents are to be honoured. That a man 
 should do as he would be done by. From which 
 last alone may sufficiently be deduced all those rules 
 of charity and justice that are to govern the offices 
 of common life ; and which alone is enough to found 
 an obligation to gratitude : forasmuch as no man, 
 having done a kindness to another, would acquiesce 
 or think himself justly dealt with, in a total neglect 
 and unconcernedness of the person who had received 
 that kindness from him ; and consequently, neither 
 ought he to be unconcerned in the same case him- 
 self. 
 
 But I shall, from other and nearer principles, and 
 those the unquestionable documents and dictates of
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 295 
 
 the law of nature, evince the obligation and debt 
 lying upon every man to shew gratitude where he 
 has received a benefit. Such as are these proposi- 
 tions : 
 
 (1.) That according to the rule of natural justice, 
 one man may merit and deserve of another. (2.) 
 That whosoever deserves of another, makes some- 
 thing due to him from the person of whom he de- 
 serves. (3.) That one man's deserving of another 
 is founded upon his conferring on him some good, 
 to which that other had no right or claim. (4.) 
 That no man has any antecedent right or claim to 
 that which comes to him by free-gift. (5.) And 
 lastly, that all desert imports an equality between 
 the good conferred, and the good deserved, or made 
 due. From whence it follows, that he who confers 
 a good upon another, deserves, and consequently has 
 a claim to an equal good from the person upon 
 whom it was conferred. So that from hence, by the 
 law of nature, springs a debt; the acknowledging 
 and repaying of which debt (as a man shall be able) 
 is the proper office and work of gratitude. 
 
 As certain therefore as by the law of nature 
 there may be, and often is, such a thing as merit 
 and desert from one man to another ; and as de- 
 sert gives the person deserving a right or claim to 
 some good from the person of whom he deserves ; 
 and as a right in one to claim this good, infers st 
 debt and obligation in the other to pay it ; so cer- 
 tain it is, by a direct gradation of consequences 
 from this principle of merit, that the obligation to 
 gratitude flows from, and is enjoined by, the first 
 dictates of nature. And the truth is, the greatest 
 and most sacred ties of duty, that man is capable of, 
 
 u 4
 
 296 A SERMON 
 
 are founded upon gratitude. Such as are the duties 
 of a child to his parent, and of a subject to his 
 sovereign. From the former of which, there is re- 
 quired love and honour, in recompence of being ; 
 and from the latter, obedience and subjection, in 
 recompence of protection and well-being. And in 
 general, if the conferring of a kindness did not bind 
 the person upon whom it was conferred, to the re- 
 turns of gratitude ; why, in the universal dialect of 
 the world, are kindnesses still called obligations ? 
 
 And thus much for the first ground, enforcing 
 the obligations of gratitude ; namely, the law of na- 
 ture. In the next place, 
 
 2. As for the positive law of God revealed in his 
 word, it is evident, that gratitude must needs be en- 
 joined, and made necessary by all those scriptures 
 that upbraid or forbid ingratitude ; as in 2 Tim. 
 iii. 2. the unthankful stand reckoned among the 
 highest and most enormous sinners ; which suffi- 
 ciently evinces the virtue opposite to unthankfulness 
 to bear the same place in the rank of duties, that its 
 contrary does in the catalogue of sins. And the 
 like, by consequence, is inferred from all those 
 places, in which we are commanded to love our 
 enemies, and to do good to those that hate us : and 
 therefore certainly much more are we by the same 
 commanded to do good to those that have prevented 
 us with good, and actually obliged us. So that it is 
 manifest, that by the positive written law of God, 
 no less than by the law of nature, gratitude is a 
 debt. 
 
 3. In the third and last place ; as for the laws of 
 men, enacted by the civil power, it must be con- 
 fessed, that gratitude is not enforced by them ; I say,
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 297 
 
 not enforced ; that is, not enjoined by the sanction of 
 penalties, to be inflicted upon the person that shall 
 not be found grateful. I grant indeed, that many 
 actions are punished by law that are acts of ingrati- 
 tude ; but this is merely accidental to them, as they 
 are such acts ; for if they were punished properly 
 under that notion, and upon that account, the punish- 
 ment would equally reach all actions of the same kind ; 
 but they are punished and provided against by law, 
 as they are gross and dangerous violations of societies, 
 and that common good, that it is the business of the 
 civil laws of all nations to protect and to take care 
 of : which good not being violated or endangered by 
 every omission of gratitude between man and man, 
 the laws make no peculiar provision to secure the 
 exercise of this virtue, but leave it as they found it, 
 sufficiently enjoined, and made a duty by the law of 
 God and nature. 
 
 Though in the Roman law indeed there is this 
 particular provision against the breach of this duty 
 in case of slaves ; that if a lord manumits, and makes 
 free his slave, gross ingratitude in the person so 
 made free, forfeits his freedom, and re-asserts him to 
 his former condition of slavery ; though perhaps 
 even this also, upon an accurate consideration, will 
 be found not a provision against ingratitude, pro- 
 perly and formally as such, but as it is the ingrati- 
 tude of slaves, which, if left unpunished in a com- 
 monwealth, where it was the custom for men to 
 be served by slaves, as in Rome it was, would quick- 
 ly have been a public nuisance and disturbance ; for 
 such is the peculiar insolence of this sort of men, 
 such the incorrigible vileness of all slavish spirits, 
 that though freedom may rid them of the baseness
 
 298 A SERMON 
 
 of their condition, yet it never takes off the baseness 
 of their minds. 
 
 And now, having shewn both what gratitude is, 
 and the ground and reason of men's obligation to it, 
 we have a full account of the proper and particular 
 nature of this virtue, as consisting adequately in these 
 two things : first, that it is a debt ; and secondly, that 
 it is such a debt as is left to every man's ingenuity, 
 (in respect of any legal coaction,) whether he will pay 
 or no ; for there lies no action of debt against him, if 
 he will not. He is in danger of no arrest, bound over 
 to no assize, nor forced to hold up his unworthy hand 
 (the instrument of his ingratitude) at any bar. 
 
 And this it is, that shews the rare and distin- 
 guishing excellency of gratitude, and sets it as a 
 crown upon the head of all other virtues, that it 
 should plant such an overruling generosity in the 
 heart of man, as shall more effectually incline him 
 to what is brave and becoming, than the terror of 
 any penal law whatsoever. So that he shall feel a 
 greater force upon himself from within, and from 
 the control of his own principles, to engage him 
 to do worthily, than all threatenings and punish- 
 ments, racks and tortures can have upon a low 
 and servile mind, that never acts virtuously, but as 
 it is acted ; that knows no principle of doing well, 
 but fear; no conscience, but constraint. On the 
 contrary, the grateful person fears no court or 
 judge, no sentence or executioner, but what he car- 
 ries about him in his own breast : and being still 
 the most severe exactor of himself, not only con- 
 fesses, but proclaims his debts ; his ingenuity is his 
 bond, and his conscience a thousand witnesses : so 
 that the debt must needs be sure, yet he scorns to be
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 299 
 
 sued for it ; nay, rather, he is always suing, impor- 
 tuning, and even reproaching himself, till he can 
 clear accounts with his benefactor. His heart is, as 
 it were, in continual labour: it even travails with 
 the obligation, and is in pangs till it be delivered : 
 and (as David) in the overflowing sense of God's 
 goodness to him, cries out in the 11 6th Psalm, ver. 
 12. What shall I render unto the Lord for all 
 his benefits towards me ? so the grateful person, 
 pressed down under the apprehension of any great 
 kindness done him, eases his burdened mind a little 
 by such expostulations with himself as these : " What 
 " shah* I do for such a friend, for such a patron, who 
 " has so frankly, so generously, so unconstrainedly 
 ** relieved me in such a. distress ; supported me 
 " against such an enemy ; supplied, cherished, and 
 " upheld me, when relations would not know me, or 
 " at least could not help me ; and, in a word, has 
 " prevented my desires, and outdone my necessities ? 
 " I can never do enough for him ; my own con- 
 " science would spit in my face, should I ever slight 
 " or forget such favours." These are the expostulat- 
 ing dialogues and contests that every grateful, every 
 truly noble and magnanimous person has with him- 
 self. It was, in part, a brave speech of Luc. Corne- 
 lius Sylla, the Roman dictator, who said, that he 
 found no sweetness in being great or powerful, but 
 only that it enabled him to crush his enemies, and 
 to gratify his friends." 
 
 I cannot warrant or defend the first part of this 
 saying ; but surely he that employs his greatness in 
 the latter, be he never so great, it must and will 
 make him still greater. 
 
 And thus much for the first general thing pro-
 
 300 A SERMON 
 
 posed, which was to shew, what gratitude is, and 
 upon what the obligation to it is grounded. I pro- 
 ceed now to the second, 
 
 Which is to give some account of the nature and 
 baseness of ingratitude. 
 
 There is not any one vice or ill quality incident 
 to the mind of man, against which the world has 
 raised such a loud and universal outcry, as against 
 ingratitude : a vice never mentioned by any heathen 
 writer, but with a particular height of detestation ; 
 and of such a malignity, that human nature must be 
 stripped of humanity itself, before it can be guilty of 
 it. It is instead of all other vices ; and, in the ba- 
 lance of morality, a counterpoise to them all. In the 
 charge of ingratitude, omnia dixeris : it is one great 
 blot upon all morality : it is all in a word : it says 
 Amen to the black roll of sins : it gives completion 
 and confirmation to them all. 
 
 If we would state the nature of it, recourse must 
 be had to what has been already said of its contrary ; 
 and so it is properly an insensibility of kindnesses 
 received, without any endeavour either to acknow- 
 ledge or repay them. 
 
 To repay them, indeed, by a return equivalent, is 
 not in every one's power, and consequently cannot 
 be his duty ; but thanks are a tribute payable by the 
 poorest ; the most forlorn widow has her two mites ; 
 and there is none so indigent, but has an heart to be 
 sensible of, and a tongue to express its sense of a be*- 
 nefit received. 
 
 For surely, nature gives no man a mouth to be 
 always eating, and never saying grace ; nor an 
 hand only to grasp and to receive : but as it is fur- 
 nished with teeth for the one, so it should have a
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 301 
 
 tongue also for the other ; and the hands that are so 
 often reached out to take and to accept, should be 
 sometimes lifted up also to bless. The world is 
 maintained by intercourse ; and the whole course of 
 nature is a great exchange, in which one good turn 
 is and ought to be the stated price of another. 
 
 If you consider the universe as one body, you 
 shall find society and conversation to supply the 
 office of the blood and spirits ; and it is gratitude 
 that makes them circulate : look over the whole 
 creation, and you shall see, that the band or cement 
 that holds together all the parts of this great and 
 glorious fabric is gratitude, or something like it : you 
 may observe it in all the elements ; for does not the 
 air feed the flame ? and does not the flame at the 
 same time warm and enlighten the air ? Is not the 
 sea always sending forth as well as taking in ? And 
 does not the earth quit scores with all the elements, 
 in the noble fruits and productions that issue from it ? 
 And in all the light and influence that the heavens 
 bestow upon this lower world, though the lower 
 world cannot equal their benefaction, yet, with a 
 kind of grateful return, it reflects those rays, that it 
 cannot recompense : so that there is some return 
 however, though there can be no requital. He who 
 has a soul wholly void of gratitude, should do well 
 to set his soul to learn of his body ; for all the parts 
 of that minister to one another. The hands, and all 
 the other limbs, labour to bring in food and provi- 
 sion to the stomach, and the stomach returns what 
 it has received from them in strength and nutriment, 
 diffused into all the parts and members of the body. 
 It would be endless to pursue the like allusions : in 
 short, gratitude is the great spring that sets all the
 
 302 A SERMON 
 
 wheels of nature a-going ; and the whole universe is 
 supported by giving and returning, by commerce and 
 commutation. 
 
 And now, thou ungrateful brute, thou blemish to 
 mankind, and reproach to thy creation ; what shall 
 we say of thee, or to what shall we compare thee ? 
 For thou art an exception from all the visible world ; 
 neither the heavens above, nor the earth beneath, 
 afford any thing like thee : and therefore, if thou 
 wouldest find thy parallel, go to hell, which is both 
 the region and the emblem of ingratitude ; for, be- 
 sides thyself, there is nothing but hell that is always 
 receiving and never restoring. 
 
 And thus much for the nature and baseness of in- 
 gratitude, as it has been represented in the descrip- 
 tion given of it. Come we now to the 
 
 Third thing proposed, which is to shew the prin- 
 ciple from which it proceeds. And to give you this 
 in one word, it proceeds from that which we call 
 ill-nature. Which being a word that occurs fre- 
 quently in discourse, and in the characters given of 
 persons, it will not be amiss to inquire into the 
 proper sense and signification of this expression. In 
 order to which we must observe, that according to 
 the doctrine of the philosopher, man being a crea- 
 ture designed and framed by nature for society and 
 conversation ; such a temper or disposition of mind, 
 as inclines him to those actions that promote society 
 and mutual fellowship, is properly called good-nature : 
 which actions, though almost innumerable in their 
 particulars, yet seem reducible in general to these 
 two principles of action. 
 
 1. A proneness to do good to others. 
 
 2. A ready sense of any good done by others.
 
 ON JUDGES VIJI. 34, 35. 303 
 
 And where these two meet together, as they are 
 scarce ever found asunder, it is impossible for that 
 person not to be kind, beneficial, and obliging to all 
 whom he converses with. On the contrary, ill- 
 nature is such a disposition, as inclines a man to those 
 actions that thwart, and sour, and disturb conver- 
 sation between man and man ; and accordingly con- 
 sists of two qualities directly contrary to the former. 
 
 1. A proneness to do ill turns, attended with a 
 complacency, or secret joy of mind, upon the sight of 
 any mischief that befalls another. And, 
 
 2. An utter insensibility of any good or kindness 
 done him by others. I mean not that he is insensi- 
 ble of the good itself; but that, although he finds, 
 feels, and enjoys the good that is done him, yet he 
 is wholly insensible, and unconcerned to value, or 
 take notice of the benignity of him that does it. 
 
 Now~either of these ill qualities, and much more 
 both of them together, denominate a person ill-na- 
 tured ; they being such as make him grievous and 
 uneasy to all whom he deals and associates himself 
 with. For from the former of these proceed envy, 
 an aptness to slander and revile, to cross and hinder 
 a man in his lawful advantages. For these and 
 such like actions feed and gratify that base humour 
 of mind, which gives a man a delight in making, at 
 least in seeing, his neighbour miserable : and from 
 the latter issues that vile thing which we have been 
 hitherto speaking of, to wit, ingratitude : into which 
 all kindnesses and good turns fall, as into a kind of 
 dead sea. It being a quab'ty that confines and, as 
 it were, shuts up a man wholly within himself, leav- 
 ing him void of that principle, which alone should 
 dispose him to communicate and impart those redun-
 
 304 A SERMON 
 
 dancies of good that he is possessed of. No man 
 ever goes sharer with the ungrateful person ; be he 
 never so full, he never runs over. But (like Gideon's 
 fleece) though filled and replenished with the dew of 
 heaven himself, yet he leaves all dry and empty about 
 him. 
 
 Now this surely, if any thing, is an effect of ill- 
 nature. And what is ill-nature, but a pitch beyond 
 original corruption ? It is corruptio pessimi. A 
 further depravation of that, which was stark naught 
 before. But, so certainly does it shoot forth and 
 shew itself in this vice, that wheresoever you see in- 
 gratitude, you may as infallibly conclude, that there 
 is a growing stock of ill-nature in that breast, as you 
 may know that man to have the plague, upon whom 
 you see the tokens. 
 
 Having thus shewn you from whence this ill qua- 
 lity proceeds, pass we now to the 
 
 Fourth thing proposed, which is to shew, those 
 other ill qualities that inseparably attend ingratitude, 
 and are never disjoined from it. 
 
 It .is a saying common in use, and true in obser- 
 vation, that the disposition and temper of a man may 
 be gathered as well from his companion or associate 
 as from himself. And it holds in qualities as it 
 does in persons : it being seldom or never known, 
 that any great virtue or vice went alone ; for great- 
 ness in every thing will still be attended on. 
 
 How black and base a vice ingratitude is, we have 
 seen by considering it both in its own nature, and 
 in the principle from which it springs ; and we may 
 see the same yet more fully in those vices which it 
 is always in combination with. Two of which I 
 shall mention, as being of near cognation to it, and
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 305 
 
 constant coherence with it. The first of which is 
 pride. And the second, hard-heartedness, or want 
 of compassion. 
 
 1. And first for pride. This is of such intimate, 
 and even essential connection with ingratitude, that 
 the actings of ingratitude seem directly resolvable 
 into pride, as the principal reason and cause of them. 
 The original ground of man's obligation to gratitude 
 was, as I have hinted, from this, that each man has 
 but a limited right to the good things of the world ; 
 and, that the natural allowed way, by which he is to 
 compass the possession of these things, is, by his own 
 industrious acquisition of them ; and consequently, 
 when any good is dealt forth to him any other way 
 than by his own labour, he is accountable to the per- 
 son who <Jealt it to him, as for a thing to which he 
 had no -right or claim, by any action of his own en- 
 titling him to it. 
 
 But now, pride shuts a man's eyes against all this, 
 and so fills him with an opinion of his own tran- 
 scendent worth, that he imagines himself to have a 
 right to all things, as well those that are the effects 
 and fruits of other men's labours, as of his own. So 
 that, if any advantage accrues to him, by the libera- 
 lity and donation of his neighbour, he looks not 
 upon it as matter of free undeserved gift, but rather 
 as a just homage to that worth and merit which he 
 conceives to be in himself, and to which all the world 
 ought to become tributary. Upon which thought, 
 no wonder, if he reckons himself wholly unconcerned 
 to acknowledge or repay any good that he receives. 
 For while the courteous person thinks that he is 
 obliging and doing such an one a kindness, the 
 proud person, on the other side, accounts him to be 
 
 VOL. i. x
 
 306 A SERMON 
 
 only paying a debt. His pride makes him even 
 worship and idolize himself; and indeed, every 
 proud, ungrateful man has this property of an idol, 
 that though he is plied with never so many and so 
 great offerings, yet he takes no notice of the offerer 
 at all. 
 
 Now this is the true account of the most inward 
 movings and reasonings of the very heart and soul 
 of an ungrateful person. So that you may rest 
 upon this as a proposition of an eternal, unfailing 
 truth ; that there neither is nor ever was any per- 
 son remarkably ungrateful, who was not also insuf- 
 ferably proud ; nor, convertibly, any one proud, who 
 was not equally ungrateful. For, as snakes breed 
 in dunghills not singly, but in knots, so in such 
 base, noisome hearts, you shall ever see pride and in- 
 gratitude indivisibly wreathed and twisted together. 
 Ingratitude overlooks all kindnesses, but it is be- 
 cause pride makes it carry its head so high. 
 
 See the greatest examples of ingratitude equally 
 notorious for their pride and ambition. And to begin 
 with the top and father of them all, the devil him- 
 self. That excellent and glorious nature which 
 God had obliged him with, could not prevent his in- 
 gratitude and apostasy, when his pride bid him 
 aspire to an equality with his maker, and say, / will 
 ascend, and be like the Most High. And did not 
 our first parents write exactly after his copy ? in- 
 gratitude making them to trample upon the com- 
 mand, because pride made them desire to be as gods, 
 and to brave omniscience itself in the knowledge of 
 good and evil. What made that ungrateful wretch, 
 Absalom, kick at all the kindnesses of his indulgent 
 father, but because his ambition would needs be fin-
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 307 
 
 gering the sceptre, and hoisting him into his father's 
 throne ? And in the courts of princes is there any 
 thing more usual, than to see those that have been 
 raised by the favour and interest of some great mi- 
 nister, to trample upon the steps by which they rose, 
 to rival him in his greatness, and at length (if pos- 
 sible) to step into his place ? 
 
 In a word, ingratitude is too base to return a 
 kindness, and too proud to regard it ; much like the 
 tops of mountains, barren indeed, but yet lofty ; they 
 produce nothing, they feed nobody, they clothe no- 
 body, yet are high and stately, and look down upon 
 all the world about them. 
 
 2. The other concomitant of ingratitude is hard- 
 heartedness, or want of compassion. This, at first, 
 may seem, to have no great cognation with ingrati- 
 tude ; but upon a due inspection into the nature of 
 that ill quality, it will be found directly to follow it, 
 if not also to result from it. 
 
 For the nature of ingratitude being founded in 
 such a disposition, as incloses all a man's concerns 
 within himself, and consequently gives him a perfect 
 unconcernedness in all things not judged by him im- 
 mediately to relate to his own interest ; it is no won- 
 der if the same temper of mind, which makes a man 
 unapprehensive of any good done him by others, 
 makes him equally unapprehensive and insensible of 
 any evil or misery suffered by others. No such 
 thought ever strikes his marble, obdurate heart, but 
 it presently flies off and rebounds from it. And the 
 truth is, it is impossible for a man to be perfect and 
 thoroughpaced in ingratitude, till he has shook off 
 all fetters of pity and compassion. For all relenting 
 and tenderness of heart makes a man but a puny 
 
 x 2
 
 308 A SERMON 
 
 in this sin ; it spoils the growth, and cramps the last 
 and crowning exploits of this vice. 
 
 Ingratitude, indeed, put the poniard into Brutus's 
 hand ; but it was want of compassion which thrust 
 it into Caesar's heart. When some fond, easy fa- 
 thers think fit to strip themselves before they lie 
 down to their long sleep, and to settle their whole 
 estates upon their sons, has it not been too frequently 
 seen, that the father has been requited with want 
 and beggary, scorn and contempt ? But now, could 
 bare ingratitude, think we, ever have made any one 
 so unnatural and diabolical, had not cruelty and w r ant 
 of pity come in as a second to its assistance, and 
 cleared the villain's breast of all remainders of hu- 
 manity ? Is it not this which has made so many mi- 
 serable parents even curse their own bowels, for 
 bringing forth children that seem to have none? 
 Did not this make Agrippina, Nero's mother, cry 
 out to the assassinate sent by her son to murder her, 
 to direct his sword to her belly, as being the only cri- 
 minal for having brought forth such a monster of in- 
 gratitude into the world ? And to give you yet an 
 higher instance of the conjunction of these two vices ; 
 since nothing could transcend the ingratitude and 
 cruelty of Nero, but the ingratitude and cruelty of 
 an imperious woman ; when Tullia, daughter of Ser- 
 vius Tullius, sixth king of Rome, having married 
 Tarquinius Superbus, and put him first upon kill- 
 ing her father, and then invading his throne, came 
 through the street where the body of her father lay 
 newly murdered and wallowing in his blood, she 
 commanded her trembling coachman to drive her cha- 
 riot and horses over the body of her king and father 
 triumphantly, in the face of all Rome looking upon
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 309 
 
 her with astonishment and detestation. Such was 
 the tenderness, gratitude, filial affection, and good- 
 nature of this weaker vessel. 
 
 And then for instances out of sacred story ; to go 
 no further than this of Gideon ; did not ingratitude 
 first make the Israelites forget the kindness of the 
 father, and then cruelty make them imbrue their 
 hands in the blood of his sons ? Could Pharaoh's but- 
 ler so quickly have forgot Joseph, had not want of 
 gratitude to him as his friend, met with an equal 
 want of compassion to him as his fellow-prisoner ? A 
 poor, innocent, forlorn stranger languishing in du- 
 rance, upon the false accusations of a lying, insolent, 
 whorish woman ! 
 
 I might even weary you with examples of the 
 like nature, both sacred and civil, all of them repre- 
 senting^ ingratitude, as it were, sitting in its throne, 
 with pride at its right hand, and cruelty at its left; 
 worthy supporters of such a stately quality, such a 
 reigning impiety. 
 
 And it has been sometimes observed, that persons 
 signally and eminently obliged, yet missing of the ut- 
 most of their greedy designs in swaUowing both gifts 
 and giver too, instead of thanks for received kind- 
 nesses, have betook themselves to barbarous threat- 
 enings for defeat of their insatiable expectations. 
 
 Upon the whole matter we may firmly conclude, 
 that ingratitude and compassion never cohabit in the 
 same breast. Which remark I do here so much in- 
 sist upon, to shew the superlative malignity of this 
 vice, and the baseness of the mind in which it 
 dwells ; for we may with great confidence and equal 
 truth affirm, that since there was such a thing as 
 mankind in the world, there never was any heart 
 
 x 3
 
 310 A SERMON 
 
 truly great and generous, that was not also tender 
 and compassionate. It is this noble quality that 
 makes all men to be of one kind ; for every man 
 would be, as it were, a distinct species to himself, 
 were there no sympathy amongst individuals. 
 
 And thus I have done with the fourth thing pro- 
 posed, and shewn the two vices that inseparably at- 
 tend ingratitude ; and now, if falsehood also should 
 chance to strike in as the third, and make up the 
 triumvirate of its attendants, so that ingratitude, 
 pride, cruelty, and falsehood should all meet together, 
 and join forces in the same person ; as not only very 
 often, but for the most part they do ; in this case, if 
 the devils themselves should take bodies, and come 
 and live amongst us, they could not be greater 
 plagues and grievances to society, than such persons. 
 
 From what has been said, let no man ever think 
 to meet ingratitude single and alone. It is one of 
 those grapes of gall mentioned by Moses, Deut. 
 xxxii. 32. and therefore expect always to find it one 
 of a cluster. I proceed now to the 
 
 Fifth and last thing proposed, which is, to draw 
 some useful consequences, by way of application, 
 from the premises. As, 
 
 1. Never enter into a league of friendship with an 
 ungrateful person. That is, plant not thy friend- 
 ship upon a dunghill. It is too noble a plant for so 
 base a soil. 
 
 Friendship consists properly in mutual offices, and 
 a generous strife in alternate acts of kindness. But 
 he, who does a kindness to an ungrateful person, 
 sets his seal to a flint, and sows his seed upon the 
 sand : upon the former he makes no impression, and 
 from the latter he finds no production.
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 311 
 
 The only voice of ingratitude is, Give, give ; but 
 when the gift is once received, then, like the swine at 
 his trough, it is silent and insatiable. In a word, 
 the ungrateful person is a monster, which is all 
 throat and belly ; a kind of thoroughfare, or com- 
 mon-shore, for the good things of the world to pass 
 into ; and of whom, in respect of all kindnesses con- 
 ferred on him, may be verified that observation of 
 the lion's den ; before which appeared the footsteps 
 of many that had gone in thither, but no prints of 
 any that ever came out thence. The ungrateful 
 person is the only thing in nature, for which nobody 
 living is the better. He lives to himself, and sub- 
 sists by the good-nature of others, of which he him- 
 self has not the least grain. He is a mere encroach- 
 ment upon society, and, consequently, ought to be 
 thrust out of the world as a pest, and a prodigy, 
 and a creature of the devil's making, and not of 
 God's. 
 
 2. As a man tolerably discreet ought by no means 
 to attempt the making of such an one his friend ; so 
 neither is he, in the next place, to presume to think 
 that he shall be able, so much as to alter or melio- 
 rate the humour of an ungrateful person, by any acts 
 of kindness, though never so frequent, never so 
 obliging. 
 
 Philosophy will teach the learned, and experience 
 may teach all, that it is a thing hardly feasible. For 
 love such an one, and he shall depise you : commend 
 him, and, as occasion serves, he shall revile you : 
 give to him, and he shall but laugh at your easiness : 
 save his life ; but when you have done, look to your 
 own. 
 
 x 4
 
 312 A SERMON 
 
 The greatest favours to such an one are but like 
 the motion of a ship upon the waves ; they leave no 
 trace, no sign behind them ; they neither soften nor 
 win upon him ; they neither melt nor endear him, 
 but leave him as hard, as rugged, and as uncon- 
 cerned as ever. All kindnesses descend upon such a 
 temper, as showers of rain or rivers of fresh water 
 falling into the main sea : the sea swallows them all, 
 but is not at all .changed or sweetened by them. I 
 may truly say of the mind of an ungrateful person, 
 that it is kindness-proof. It is impenetrable, un- 
 conquerable ; unconquerable by that which conquers 
 all things else, even by love itself. Flints may be 
 melted, (we see it daily,) but an ungrateful heart 
 cannot; no, not by the strongest and the noblest 
 flame. After all your attempts, all your experiments, 
 for any thing that man can do, he that is ungrate- 
 ful, will be ungrateful still. And the reason is 
 manifest ; for you may remember, that I told you, 
 that ingratitude sprang from a principle of ill-nature ; 
 which being a thing founded in such a certain con- 
 stitution of blood and spirit, as being born with a 
 man into the world, and upon that account called 
 nature, shall prevent all remedies that can be applied 
 . by education, and leaves such a bias upon the mind, 
 as is beforehand with all instruction. 
 
 So that you shall seldom or never meet with an 
 ungrateful person, but if you look backward, and 
 trace him up to his original, you will find that he 
 was born so ; and if you could look forward enough, 
 it is a thousand to one, but you will find, that he 
 also dies so ; for you shall never light upon an ill- 
 natured man, who was not also an ill-natured child ;
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 313 
 
 and gave several testimonies of his being so, to dis- 
 cerning persons, long before the use of his reason. 
 
 The thread that nature spins, is seldom broken off 
 by any thing but death. I do not by this limit the 
 operation of God's grace ; for that may do wonders : 
 but humanly speaking, and according to the method 
 of the world, and the little correctives supplied by 
 art and discipline, it seldom fails ; but an ill principle 
 has its course, and nature makes good its blow. 
 And therefore, where ingratitude begins remarkably 
 to shew itself, he surely judges most wisely, who 
 takes the alarm betimes ; and arguing the fountain 
 from the stream, concludes that there is ill-nature at 
 the bottom ; and so reducing his judgment into 
 practice, timely withdraws his frustraneous, baffled 
 kindnesses, and sees the folly of endeavouring to 
 stroke ji tiger into a lamb, or to court an Ethiopian 
 out of his colour. 
 
 3. In the third and last place. Wheresoever you 
 see a man notoriously ungrateful, rest assured, that 
 there is no true sense of religion in that person. 
 You know the apostle's argument, in 1 John iv. 20. 
 He who loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, 
 how can he love God whom he hath not seen ? So, 
 by an exact parity of reason, we may argue : If a 
 man has no sense of those kindnesses that pass upon 
 him, from one like himself, whom he sees, and knows, 
 and converses with sensibly ; how much less shall 
 his heart be affected with the grateful sense of his 
 favours, whom he converses with only by imperfect 
 speculations, by the discourses of reason, or the dis- 
 coveries of faith ; neither of which equal the quick 
 and lively impressions of sense ? If the apostle's
 
 314 A SERMON 
 
 reasoning was good and concluding, I am sure this 
 must be unavoidable. 
 
 But the thing is too evident to need any proof. 
 For shall that man pass for a proficient in Christ's 
 school, who would have been exploded in the school 
 of Zeno or Epictetus? Or shall he pretend to reli- 
 gious attainments, who is defective and short in mo- 
 ral ? which yet are but the rudiments, the begin- 
 nings, and first draught of religion, as religion is the 
 perfection, the refinement, and the sublimation of 
 morality ; so that it still presupposes it, it builds 
 upon it, and grace never adds the superstructure, 
 where virtue has not laid the foundation. There 
 may be virtue indeed, and yet no grace ; but grace 
 is never without virtue : and therefore, though gra- 
 titude does not infer grace, it is certain that ingra- 
 titude does exclude it. 
 
 Think not to put God off by frequenting prayers, 
 and sermons, and sacraments, while thy brother has 
 an action against thee in the court of heaven ; an 
 action of debt, of that clamorous and great debt of 
 gratitude. Rather, as our Saviour commands, leave 
 thy gift upon the altar, and first go and clear ac- 
 counts with thy brother. God scorns a gift from 
 him who has not paid his debts. Every ungrateful 
 person, in the sight of God and man, is a thief, and 
 let him not make the altar his receiver. Where 
 there is no charity, it is certain there can be no reli- 
 gion ; and can that man be charitable, who is not so 
 much as just ? 
 
 In every benefaction between man and man, man 
 is only the dispenser, but God the benefactor ; and 
 therefore let all ungrateful ones know, that where
 
 ON JUDGES VIII. 34, 35. 315 
 
 gratitude is the debt, God himself is the chief cre- 
 ditor : who, though he causes his sun to shine, and 
 his rain to fall upon the evil and unthankful in 
 this world, has another kind of reward for their 
 unthankfulness in the next. 
 
 To which God, the great searcher and judge of 
 hearts, and rewarder of men according to 
 their deeds, be rendered and ascribed, as is 
 most due, all praise, might, majesty, and do- 
 minion, both now and for evermore. Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT CHRIST-CHURCH, OXON, 
 
 BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY, 
 
 OCTOBER 14, 1688. 
 
 PROV. xii. 22. 
 Lying lips are abomination to the Lord. 
 
 1 AM very sensible, that by discoursing of lies and 
 falsehood, which I have pitched upon for my present 
 subject, I must needs fall into a very large common 
 place ; though yet, not by half so large and common 
 as the practice : nothing in nature being so univer- 
 sally decried, and withal so universally practised, as 
 falsehood. So that most of those things, that have 
 the mightiest and most controlling influence upon 
 the affairs and course of the world, are neither bet- 
 ter nor worse than downright lies. For what is 
 common fame, which sounds from all quarters of the 
 world, and resounds back to them again, but gene- 
 rally a loud, rattling, impudent, overbearing lie? 
 What are most of the histories of the world, but 
 lies ? lies immortalized, and consigned over as a 
 perpetual abuse and flam upon posterity ? What are 
 most of the promises of the world, but lies? of 
 which we need no other proof, but our own expe- 
 rience. And what are most of the oaths in the
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 317 
 
 world, but lies ? and such as need rather a pardon 
 for being took, than a dispensation from being kept ? 
 And lastly, what are all the religions of the world, 
 except Judaism and Christianity, but lies ? And even 
 in Christianity itself, are there not those who teach, 
 warrant, and defend lying ? and scarce use the Bible 
 for any other purpose, but to swear upon it, and to 
 lie against it ? 
 
 Thus a mighty, governing lie goes round the 
 world, and has almost banished truth out of it; and 
 so reigning triumphantly in its stead, is the true 
 source of most of those confusions and dire calami- 
 ties that infest and plague the universe. For look 
 over them all, and you shall find, that the greatest 
 annoyance and disturbance of mankind has been 
 from one of these two things, force or fraud. Of 
 which, as boisterous and violent a thing as force is, 
 yet it rarely achieves any thing considerable, but 
 under the conduct of fraud. Slight of hand has 
 done that, which force of hand could never do. 
 
 But why do we speak of hands ? It is the tongue 
 that drives the world before it. The tongue, and 
 the lying lip, which there is no fence against : for 
 when that is the weapon, a man may strike where 
 he cannot reach ; and a word shall do execution, 
 both further and deeper, than the mightiest blow. 
 For the hand can hardly lift up itself high enough to 
 strike, but it must be seen ; so that it warns, while 
 it threatens ; but a false, insidious tongue may whis- 
 per a lie so close and low, that though you have 
 ears to hear, yet you shall not hear ; and indeed we 
 generally come to know it, not by hearing, but by 
 feeling what it says. 
 
 A man, perhaps, casts his eye this way and that
 
 318 A SERMON 
 
 way, and looks round about him, to spy out his 
 enemy, and to defend himself; but alas! the fatal 
 mischief, that would trip up his heels, is all the 
 while under them. It works invisibly, and beneath : 
 and the shocks of an earthquake, we know, are 
 much more dreadful, than the highest and loudest 
 blusters of a storm. For there may be some shelter 
 against the violence of the one, but no security 
 against the hollowness of the other; which never 
 opens its bosom, but for a killing embrace. The 
 bowels of the earth in such cases, and the mercies of 
 the false in all, being equally without compassion. 
 
 Upon the whole matter, it is hard to assign any 
 one thing, but lying, which God and man so unani- 
 mously join in the hatred of; and it is as hard to 
 tell, whether it does a greater dishonour to God, or 
 mischief to man : it is certainly an abomination to 
 both ; and I hope to make it appear such in the fol- 
 lowing discourse. Though I must confess myself 
 very unable to speak to the utmost latitude of this 
 subject ; and I thank God that I am so. 
 
 Now the words of the text are a plain, entire, ca- 
 tegorical proposition ; and therefore I shall not go 
 about to darken them by" any needless explication, 
 but shall immediately cast the prosecution of them 
 under these three following particulars. As, 
 
 I. I shall inquire into the nature of a He, and the 
 proper essential malignity of all falsehood. 
 
 II. I shall shew the pernicious effects of it. And, 
 
 III. and lastly, I shall lay before you the re- 
 wards and punishments that will certainly attend, 
 or at least follow it. 
 
 Every one of which, I suppose, and much more 
 all of them together, will afford arguments, more
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 319 
 
 than sufficient, to prove, (though it were no part of 
 holy scripture,) that lying lips are an abomination 
 to the Lord. 
 
 And first, for the first of these. 
 
 I. What a lie is, and wherein the nature of it does 
 consist. A lie is properly an outward signification 
 of something contrary to, or, at least, beside the in- 
 ward sense of the mind ; so that when one thing is 
 signified or expressed, and the same thing not meant 
 or intended, that is properly a lie. 
 
 And forasmuch as God has endued man with a 
 power or faculty to institute or appoint signs of his 
 thoughts ; and that, by virtue hereof, he can appoint, 
 not only words, but also things, actions, and gestures 
 to be signs of the inward thoughts and conceptions 
 of his mind, it is evident, that he may as really lie 
 and deceive by actions and gestures, as he can by 
 words ; "forasmuch as, in the nature of them, they 
 are as capable of being made signs ; and conse- 
 quently of being as much abused and misapplied, as 
 the other : though, for distinction sake, a deceiving 
 by words is commonly called a lie, and a deceiving 
 by actions, gestures, or behaviour, is called simula- 
 tion, or hypocrisy. 
 
 The nature of a He, therefore, consists in this, 
 that it is a false signification knowingly and volun- 
 tarily used ; in which the sign expressing is no ways 
 agreeing with the thought or conception of the 
 mind pretended to be thereby expressed. For words 
 signify not immediately and primely things them- 
 selves, but the conceptions of the mind concern- 
 ing things ; and therefore, if there be an agreement 
 between our words and our thoughts, we do not 
 speak falsely, though it sometimes so falls out, that
 
 320 A SERMON 
 
 our words agree not with the things themselves : 
 upon which account, though in so speaking we of- 
 fend indeed against truth ; yet we offend not pro- 
 perly by falsehood, which is a speaking against 
 our thoughts ; but by rashness, which is an affirm- 
 ing or denying, before we have sufficiently informed 
 ourselves of the real and true estate of those things 
 whereof we affirm or deny. 
 
 And thus having shewn what a lie is, and where- 
 in it does consist, the next consideration is, of the 
 lawfulness or unlawfulness of it. And in this, we 
 have but too sad and scandalous an instance, both of 
 the corruption and weakness of man's reason, and 
 of the strange bias that it still receives from inte- 
 rest, that such a case as this, both with philosophers 
 and divines, heathens and Christians, should be held 
 disputable. 
 
 Plato accounted it lawful for statesmen and go- 
 vernors ; and so did Cicero and Plutarch ; and the 
 Stoics, as some say, reckoned it amongst the arts 
 and perfections of a wise man, to lie dexterously, in 
 due time and place. And for some of the ancient 
 doctors of the Christian church ; such as Origen, 
 Clemens Alexandrinus, Tertullian, Lactantius, and 
 Chrysostom ; and generally, all before St. Austin, 
 several passages have fallen from them, that speak 
 but too favourably of this ill thing. So that Paul 
 Layman, a Romish casuist, says, that it is a truth 
 but lately known, and received in the world, that a 
 lie is absolutely sinful and unlawful; I suppose he 
 means, that part of the world, where the scriptures 
 are not read, and where men care not to know 
 what they are not willing to practise. 
 
 But then, for the mitigation of what has proceeded
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 321 
 
 from these great men, we must take in that known 
 and celebrated division of a lie into those three seve- 
 ral kinds of it. As, 
 
 1. The pernicious lie, uttered for the hurt or dis- 
 advantage of our neighbour. 
 
 2. The officious lie, uttered for our own or our 
 neighbour's advantage : and 
 
 3. And lastly, The ludicrous and jocose lie, ut- 
 tered by way of jest, and only for mirth's sake, in 
 common converse. Now for the first of these, which 
 is the pernicious lie ; it was and is universally con- 
 demned by all ; but the other two have found some 
 patronage from the writings of those forementioned 
 authors. The reason of which seems to be, that 
 those persons did not estimate the lawfulness or un- 
 lawfulness of a lie, from the intrinsic nature of the 
 thing itself, but either from those external effects 
 that it produced, or from those ends to which it was 
 directed; which accordingly as they proved either 
 helpful or hurtful, innocent or offensive, so the lie 
 was reputed either lawful or unlawful. And there- 
 fore, since a man was helped by an officious lie, and 
 not hurt by a jocose, both of these came to be 
 esteemed lawful, and in some cases laudable. 
 
 But the schoolmen and casuists having too much 
 philosophy to go about to clear a lie from that in- 
 trinsic inordination and deviation from right reason 
 inherent in the nature of it, and yet withal unwill- 
 ing to rob the world, and themselves especially, of so 
 sweet a morsel of liberty, held that a lie was indeed 
 absolutely and universally sinful ; but then they held 
 also, that only the pernicious lie was a mortal sin, 
 and the other two were only venial. It can be no 
 part of my business here to overthrow this distinc- 
 
 YOL. i. Y
 
 322 A SERMON 
 
 tion, and to shew the nullity of it : which has been 
 solidly and sufficiently done by most of our polemic 
 writers of the protestant church. But at present 
 I shall only take this their concession, that every lie 
 is sinful, and consequently unlawful ; and if it be a 
 sin, I shall suppose it already proved to my hands 
 to be, what all sin essentially is and must be, mor- 
 tal. So that thus far have we gone, and this point 
 have we gained, that it is absolutely and universally 
 unlawful to lie, or to falsify. 
 
 Let us now, in the next place, inquire from 
 whence this unlawfulness springs, and upon what it 
 is grounded : to which I answer ; that upon the 
 principles of natural reason, the unlawfulness of ly- 
 ing is grounded upon this, that a lie is properly 
 a sort or species of injustice, and a violation of the 
 right of that person to whom the false speech is di- 
 rected : for all speaking, or signification of one's 
 mind, implies, in the nature of it, an act or address 
 of one man to another : it being evident, that no 
 man, though he does speak false, can be said to lie to 
 himself. 
 
 Now to shew what this right is, we must know, 
 that in the beginnings and first establishments of 
 speech, there was an implicit compact amongst men, 
 founded upon common use and consent, that such 
 and such words or voices, actions or gestures, should 
 be means or signs, whereby they would express or 
 convey their thoughts one to another ; and that men 
 should be obliged to use them for that purpose ; 
 forasmuch as, without such an obligation, those 
 signs could not be effectual for such an end. From 
 which compact there arising an obligation upon 
 every one so to convey his meaning, there accrues
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 323 
 
 also a right to every one, by the same signs to judge 
 of the sense or meaning of the person so obliged to 
 express himself : and consequently, if these signs are 
 applied and used by him so as not to signify his 
 meaning, the right of the person, to whom he was 
 obliged so to have done, is hereby violated, and the 
 man, by being deceived, and kept ignorant of his 
 neighbour's meaning, where he ought to have known 
 it, is so far deprived of the benefit of any intercourse 
 or converse with him. 
 
 From hence therefore we see, that the original 
 reason of the unlawfulness of lying or deceiving, is, 
 that it carries with it an act of injustice, and a viola- 
 tion of the right of him, to whom we were obliged 
 to signify or impart our minds, if we spoke to him 
 at all. 
 
 But then we must observe also, (which I noted 
 at first,} that as it is in man's power to institute, not 
 only words, but also things, actions, or gestures, to 
 be the means whereby he would signify and express 
 his mind ; so, on the other side, those voices, actions, 
 or gestures, which men have not by any compact 
 agreed to make the instruments of conveying their 
 thoughts one to another, are not the proper instru- 
 ments of deceiving, so as to denominate the person 
 using them a liar or deceiver, though the person, 
 to whom they are addressed, takes occasion from 
 thence to form in his mind a false apprehension or 
 belief of the thoughts of those, who use such voices, 
 actions, or gestures towards him. I say, in this 
 case, the person using these things cannot be said to 
 deceive ; since all deception is a misapplying of those 
 signs, which, by compact or institution, M r ere made 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 A SERMON 
 
 the means of men's signifying or conveying their 
 thoughts ; but here, a man only does those things, 
 from which another takes occasion to deceive him- 
 self: which one consideration will solve most of 
 those difficulties that are usually started on this 
 subject. 
 
 But yet this I do and must grant, that though it 
 be not against strict justice or truth for a man to do 
 those things which he might otherwise lawfully do, 
 albeit his neighbour does take occasion from thence 
 to conceive in his mind a false belief, and so to De- 
 ceive himself; yet Christian charity will, in many 
 cases, restrain a man here too, and prohibit him to 
 use his own right and liberty, where it may turn 
 considerably to his neighbour's prejudice. For here- 
 in is the excellency of charity seen, that the chari- 
 table man not only does no evil himself, but that, to 
 the utmost of his power, he also hinders any evil 
 from being done even by another. 
 
 And as we have shewn and proved that lying and 
 deceiving stand condemned, upon the principles of 
 natural justice, and the eternal law of right reason ; 
 so are the same much more condemned, and that 
 with the sanction of the highest penalties, by the 
 law of Christianity, which is eminently and tran- 
 scendently called the truth, and the word of truth ; 
 and in nothing more surpasses all the doctrines and 
 religions in the world, than in this, that it enjoins 
 the clearest, the openest, and the sincerest dealing, 
 both in words and actions ; and is the rigidest exac- 
 ter of truth in all our behaviour, of any other doc- 
 trine or institution whatsoever. 
 
 And thus much for the first general thing proposed,
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 325 
 
 which was, to inquire into the nature of a lie, and 
 the proper, essential malignity of all falsehood. I 
 proceed now to the 
 
 Second, which is to shew the pernicious effects 
 of it. Some of the chief and most remarkable of 
 which are these that follow : as, 
 
 First of all, it was this that introduced sin into 
 the world. For how came our first parents to sin, 
 and to lose their primitive innocence? Why, they 
 were deceived, and by the subtilty of the devil 
 brought to believe a lie. And, indeed, deceit is of 
 the very essence and nature of sin, there being no 
 sinful action, but there is a lie wrapt up in the 
 bowels of it. For sin prevails upon the soul by re- 
 presenting that as suitable and desirable, that really 
 is not so. And no man is ever induced to sin, but 
 by a persuasion, that he shall find some good and 
 happiness in it, which he had not before. The 
 wages that sin bargains with the sinner to serve it 
 for, are life, pleasure, and profit ; but the wages it 
 pays him with, are death, torment, and destruction. 
 He that would understand the falsehood and deceit 
 of sin throughly, must compare its promises and its 
 payments together. 
 
 And as the devil first brought sin into the world 
 by a lie, (being equally the base original of both,) so 
 he still propagates and promotes it by the same. 
 The devil reigns over none but those whom he first 
 deceives. Geographers and historians dividing the 
 habitable world into thirty parts, give us this ac- 
 count of them : that but five of those thirty are 
 Christian ; and for the rest, six of them are Jew 
 and Mahometan, and the remaining nineteen per- 
 fectly heathen : all which he holds and governs by 
 
 Y 3
 
 326 A SERMON 
 
 possessing them with a lie, and bewitching them 
 with a false religion : like the moon and the stars, 
 he rules by night ; and his kingdom, even in this 
 world, is perfectly a kingdom of darkness. And 
 therefore our Saviour, who came to dethrone the 
 devil and to destroy sin, did it by being the light of 
 the world, and by bearing witness to the truth. 
 For so far as truth gets ground in the world, so far 
 sin loses it. Christ saves the world, by undeceiv- 
 ing it ; and sanctifies the will, by first enlightening 
 the understanding. 
 
 2. A second effect of lying and falsehood is all that 
 misery and calamity that befalls mankind. For the 
 proof of which, we need go no further than the for- 
 mer consideration : for sorrow being the natural and 
 direct effect of sin, that which first brought sin into 
 the world must by necessary consequence bring in 
 sorrow too. Shame and pain, poverty and sickness, 
 yea, death and hell itself, are all of them but the 
 trophies of those fatal conquests, got by that grand 
 impostor, the devil, over the deluded sons of men. 
 And hardly can any example be produced of a man 
 in extreme misery, who was not one way or other 
 first deceived into it. For have not the greatest 
 slaughters of armies been effected by stratagem ? 
 And have not the fairest estates been destroyed by 
 suretyship ? In both of which there is a fallacy, and 
 the man is overreached, before he is overthrown. 
 
 What betrayed and delivered the poor old prophet 
 into the lion's mouth, 1 Kings xiii. but the mouth 
 of a false prophet, much the crueller and more re- 
 morseless of the two? How came John Huss and 
 Jerome of Prague to be so cruelly and basely used by 
 the council of Constance, those ecclesiastical com-
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 32f 
 
 missioners of the court of Rome ? Why, they pro- 
 mised those innocent men a safe conduct, who there- 
 upon took them at their word, and accordingly were 
 burnt alive, for trusting a pack of perfidious wretches, 
 who regarded their own word as little as they did 
 God's a. 
 
 And how came so many bonfires to be made in 
 Queen Mary's days ? Why, she had abused and de- 
 ceived her people with lies, promising them the free 
 exercise of their religion before she got into the 
 throne ; and when she was once in, she performed 
 her promise to them at the stake. And I know no 
 security we had from seeing the same again in our 
 days, but one or two proclamations forbidding bon- 
 fires. Some sort of promises are edged tools, and it 
 is dangerous laying hold on them. 
 
 But to pass from hence to fanatic treachery, that 
 is, fronTone twin to the other ; how came such mul- 
 titudes of our own nation, at the beginning of that 
 monstrous (but still surviving and successful) rebel- 
 lion, in the year 1641, to be spunged of their plate 
 and money, their rings and jewels, for the carrying 
 on of the schismatical, dissenting, king-killing cause ? 
 Why, next to their own love of being cheated, it 
 was the public, or rather prostitute faith of a com- 
 pany of faithless miscreants that drew them in, and 
 deceived them. And how came so many thousands 
 to fight and die in the same rebellion ? Why, they 
 
 a Of which last, see an in- tice of receiving it only in one 
 stance in the i3th session of kind ought to be accounted 
 this council, in which it decrees, and observed as a law ; and 
 with a non-obstante to Christ's that, if the priest should ad- 
 express institution of the bless- minister it otherwise, he was to 
 ed eucharist in both kinds, that be excommunicated, 
 the contrary custom and prac-
 
 328 A SERMON 
 
 were deceived into it, by those spiritual trumpeters 
 who followed them with continual alarms of damna- 
 tion, if they did not venture life, fortune, and all, in 
 that which wickedly and devilishly those impostors 
 called, the cause of God. So that I myself have 
 heard one b say, (whose quarters have since hung 
 about that city where he had been first deceived,) 
 that he, with many more, went to that execrable 
 war with such a controlling horror upon their spirits, 
 from those sermons c , that they verily believed they 
 should have been accursed by God for ever, if they 
 had not acted their part in that dismal tragedy, and 
 heartily done the devil's work, being so effectually 
 called and commanded to it in God's name. 
 
 Infinite would it be to pursue all instances of this 
 nature : but, consider those grand agents and lieu- 
 tenants of the devil, by whom he scourges and 
 plagues the world under him, to wit, tyrants ; and 
 was there ever any tyrant since the creation, who 
 was not also false and perfidious ? Do not the 
 bloody and the deceitful man still go hand in hand 
 together, in the language of the scripture ? Psalm Iv. 
 23. Was ever any people more cruel, and withal 
 more false, than the Carthaginians? And had not 
 the hypocritical contrivers of the murder of that 
 blessed martyr king Charles the first, their masks 
 and vizards, as well as his executioners ? 
 
 No man that designs to rob another of his estate 
 or life, will be so impudent or ignorant, as in plain 
 terms to tell him so. But if it be his estate that he 
 drives at, he will dazzle his eyes, and bait him in 
 with the luscious proposal of some gainful purchase, 
 
 b Colonel Axtell. c He particularly mentioned those of Brooks 
 and Calamy.
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 329 
 
 some rich match, or advantageous project ; till the 
 easy man is caught and hampered; and so, pa v tly 
 by lies, and partly by law-suits together, comes at 
 length to be stripped of all, and brought to a piece of 
 bread, when he can get it. Or if it be a man's life, 
 that the malice of his enemy seeks after, he will not 
 presently clap his pistol to his breast, or his knife to 
 his throat ; but will rather take Absalom for his 
 pattern, who invited his dear brother to a feast, 
 hugged and embraced, courted and caressed him, 
 till he had well dosed his weak head with wine, and 
 his foolish heart with confidence and credulity ; and 
 then, in he brings him an old reckoning, and makes 
 him pay it off with his blood. Or, perhaps, the cut- 
 throat may rather take his copy from the Parisian 
 massacre ; one of the horridest instances of bar- 
 barous ^inhumanity that ever the world saw, but 
 ushered in with all the pretences of amity, and the 
 festival treats of a reconciling marriage, a new and 
 excellent way, no doubt, of proving matrimony a 
 sacrament. But such butchers know what they 
 have to do. They must sooth and allure, before 
 they strike ; and the ox must be fed, before he is 
 brought to the slaughter ; and the same course must 
 be taken with some sort of asses too. 
 
 In a word, I verily believe, that no sad disaster 
 ever yet befell any person or people, nor any villainy 
 or flagitious action was ever yet committed, but 
 upon a due inquiry into the causes of it, it will be 
 found, that a lie was first or last the principal engine 
 to effect it : and that, whether pride, lust, or cruelty 
 brought it forth, it was falsehood that begot it ; this 
 gave it being, whatsoever other vice might give it 
 birth.
 
 330 A SERMON 
 
 3. As we have seen how much lying and falsehood 
 disturbs; so, in the next place, we shall see also 
 how it tends utterly to dissolve society. There is 
 no doubt, but all the safety, happiness, and conve- 
 nience that men enjoy in this life, is from the com- 
 bination of particular persons into societies or corpo- 
 rations : the cause of which is compact ; and the 
 band that knits together and supports all compacts, 
 is truth and faithfulness. So that the soul and 
 spirit that animates and keeps up society, is mutual 
 trust, and the foundation of trust is truth, either 
 known, or at least supposed in the persons so 
 trusted. 
 
 But now, where fraud and falsehood, like a plague 
 or canker, comes once to invade society, the band, 
 which held together the parts compounding it, pre- 
 sently breaks ; and men are thereby put to a loss, 
 where to league, and to fasten their dependences ; 
 and so are forced to scatter, and shift every one for 
 himself. Upon which account, every notoriously 
 false person ought to be looked upon and detested, 
 as a public enemy, and to be pursued as a wolf or 
 a mad dog, and a disturber of the common peace 
 and welfare of mankind. There being no particu- 
 lar person whatsoever, but has his private interest 
 concerned and endangered in the mischief that such 
 a wretch does to the public. 
 
 For look into great families, and you shall find 
 some one false, paltry talebearer, who, by carrying 
 stories from one to another, shall inflame the minds 
 and discompose the quiet of the whole family. And 
 from families pass to towns or cities ; and two or 
 three pragmatical, intriguing, meddling fellows, (men 
 of business some call them,) by the venom of their
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 831 
 
 false tongues, shall set the whole neighbourhood 
 together by the ears. Where men practise false- 
 hood, and shew tricks with one another, there will 
 be perpetual suspicions, evil surmisings, doubts, and 
 jealousies, which, by souring the minds of men, are 
 the bane and pest of society. For still society is 
 built upon trust, and trust upon the confidence that 
 men have of one another's integrity. 
 
 And this is so evident, that without trusting, 
 there could not only be no happiness, but indeed no 
 living in this world. For in those very things that 
 minister to the daily necessities of common life, how 
 can any one be assured, that the very meat and 
 drink that he is to take into his body, and the 
 clothes he is to put on, are not poisoned, and made 
 unwholesome for him, before ever they are brought 
 to him. Nay, in some places, (with horror be it 
 spoke,) how can a man be secure in taking the very 
 sacrament itself? For there have been those who 
 have found something in this spiritual food, that has 
 proved very fatal to their bodies, and more than 
 prepared them for another world. I say, how can 
 any one warrant himself in the use of these things 
 against such suspicions, but in the trust he has in 
 the common honesty and truth of men in general, 
 which ought and uses to keep them from such vil- 
 lainies ? Nevertheless, know this certainly before- 
 hand he cannot, forasmuch as such things have been 
 done, and consequently may be done again. And 
 therefore, as for any infallible assurance to the con- 
 trary, he can have none ; but, in the great concerns 
 of life and health, every man must be forced to pro- 
 ceed upon trust, there being no knowing the inten- 
 tion of the cook or baker, any more than of the
 
 332 A SERMON 
 
 priest himself. And yet, if a man should forbear 
 his food, or raiment, or most of his business in the 
 world, till he had science and certainty of the safe- 
 ness of what he was going about, he must starve, 
 and die disputing ; for there is neither eating, nor 
 drinking, nor living by demonstration. 
 
 Now this shews the high malignity of fraud and 
 falsehood, that, in the direct and natural course of 
 it, tends to the destruction of common life, by de- 
 stroying that trust and mutual confidence that men 
 should have in one another ; by which the common 
 intercourse of the world must be carried on, and 
 without which, men must first distrust, and then di- 
 vide, separate, and stand upon their guard, with 
 their hand against every one, and every one's hand 
 against them. 
 
 The felicity of societies and bodies politic con- 
 sists in this, that all relations in them do regularly 
 discharge their respective duties and offices. Such 
 as are the relation between prince and subject, mas- 
 ter and servant, a man and his friend, husband and 
 wife, parent and child, buyer and seller, and the 
 like. But now, where fraud and falsehood take 
 place, there is not one of all these that is not per- 
 verted, and that does not, from an help of society, 
 directly become an hinderance. For first, it turns 
 all above us into tyranny and barbarity ; and all of 
 the same religion and level with us, into discord 
 and confusion. It is this alone that poisons that 
 sovereign and divine thing called friendship ; so 
 that when a man thinks that he leans upon a breast 
 as loving and true to him as his own, he finds that 
 he relies upon a broken reed, that not only basely 
 fails, but also cruelly pierces the hand that rests
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 333 
 
 upon it. It is from this, that when a man thinks 
 he has a servant or dependent, an instrument of his 
 affairs, and a defence of his person, he finds a trai- 
 tor and a Judas, an enemy that eats his bread and 
 lies under his roof ; and perhaps readier to do him a 
 mischief and a shrewd turn than an open and pro- 
 fessed adversary. And lastly, from this deceit and 
 falsehood it is, that when a man thinks himself 
 matched to one, who, by the laws of God and nature, 
 should be a comfort to him in all conditions, a con- 
 sort of his cares, and a companion in all his con- 
 cerns, instead thereof, he finds in his bosom a beast, 
 a serpent, and a devil. 
 
 In a word : he that has to do with a liar, knows 
 not where he is, nor what he does, nor with whom 
 he deals. He walks, upon bogs and whirlpools; 
 wheresoever he treads he sinks, and converses with 
 a bottomless pit, where it is impossible for him to 
 fix, or to be at any certainty. In fine, he catches at 
 an apple of Sodom, which, though it may entertain 
 his eye with a florid, jolly white and red, yet, upon 
 the touch, it shall fill his hand only with stench and 
 foulness ; fair in look and rotten at heart ; as the 
 gayest and most taking things and persons in the 
 world generally are. 
 
 4. And lastly : deceit and falsehood do, of all 
 other ill qualities, most peculiarly indispose the 
 hearts of men to the impressions of religion. For 
 these are sins perfectly spiritual, and so prepossess 
 the proper seat and place of religion, which is the 
 soul or spirit : and, when -that is once filled and 
 taken up with a lie, there will hardly be admission 
 or room for truth. Christianity is known in scrip-
 
 S34 A SERMON 
 
 ture by no name so significantly, as by the simplicity 
 of the gospel. 
 
 And if so, does it not look like the greatest para- 
 dox and prodigy in nature, for any one to pretend it 
 lawful to equivocate, or lie for it ? To face God and 
 outface man, with the sacrament and a lie in one's 
 mouth together ? Can a good intention, or rather a 
 very wicked one, so miscalled, sanctify and trans- 
 form perjury and hypocrisy into merit and perfec- 
 tion ? Or can there be a greater blot cast upon any 
 church or religion (whatsoever it be) than by such a 
 practice? For will not the world be induced to 
 look upon my religion as a lie, if I allow myself to 
 lie for my religion ? 
 
 The very life and soul of all religion is sincerity. 
 And therefore the good ground, in which alone the 
 immortal seed of the word sprang up to perfection, 
 is said, in St. Luke viii. 15. to have been those that 
 received it into an honest heart, that is-, a plain, 
 clear, and well meaning heart ; an heart not doubled, 
 nor cast into the various folds and windings of a 
 dodging, shifting hypocrisy. For the truth is, the 
 more spiritual and refined any sin is, the more hard- 
 ly is the soul cured of it ; because the more diffi- 
 cultly convinced. And in all our spiritual maladies, 
 conviction must still begin the cure. 
 
 Such sins, indeed, as are acted by the body, do 
 quickly shew and proclaim themselves ; and it is no 
 such hard matter to convince or run down a drunk- 
 ard, or an unclean person, and to stop their mouths, 
 and to answer any pretences that they can allege for 
 their sin. But deceit is such a sin as a Pharisee 
 may be guilty of, and yet stand fair for the reputa-
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 335 
 
 tion of zeal and strictness, and a more than ordina- 
 ry exactness in religion. And though some have 
 been apt to account none sinful, or vicious, but such 
 as wallow in the mire and dirt of gross sensuality, 
 yet, no doubt, deceit, falsehood, and hypocrisy, are 
 more directly contrary to the very essence and de- 
 sign of religion, and carry in them more of the ex- 
 press image and superscription of the devil, than any 
 bodily sins whatsoever. How did that false, fasting, 
 imperious, self-admiring, or rather, self-adoring hy- 
 pocrite, in St. Luke xviii. 11. crow and insult over 
 the poor publican ! God, I thank thee, says he, that 
 I am not like other men ; and God forbid, say I, that 
 there should be many others like him, for a glis- 
 tering outside and a noisome inside, for tithing- mint 
 and cummin, and for devouring widows' houses; 
 that isj-for taking ten parts from his neighbour, and 
 putting God off with one. After all which, had this 
 man of merit and mortification been called to account 
 for his ungodly swallow in gorging down the estates 
 of helpless widows and orphans, it is odds, but he 
 would have told you, that it was all for charitable 
 uses, and to afford pensions for spies and proselytes. 
 It being no ordinary piece of spiritual good hus- 
 bandry, to be charitable at other men's cost. 
 
 But such sons of Abraham, how highly soever 
 they may have the luck to be thought of, are far 
 from being Israelites indeed ; for the character that 
 our Saviour gives us of such, in the person of Natha- 
 nael, in John i. 47. is, that they are without guile. 
 To be so, I confess, is generally reckoned (of late 
 times especially) a poor, mean, sneaking thing, and 
 the contrary, reputed wit and parts, and fitness for bu- 
 siness, as the word is : though I doubt not, but it will
 
 336 A SERMON 
 
 be one day found, that only honesty and integrity 
 can fit a man for the main business that he was sent 
 into the world for; and that he certainly is the 
 greatest wit, who is wise to salvation. 
 
 And thus much for the second general thing pro- 
 posed, which was, to shew the pernicious effects of 
 lying and falsehood. Come we now to the 
 
 Third and last, which is, to lay before you the re- 
 wards or punishments that will assuredly attend, or 
 at least follow, this base practice. 
 
 I shall mention three : as, 
 
 1. An utter loss of all credit and belief with sober 
 and discreet persons ; and consequently, of all capa- 
 city of being useful in the prime and noblest con- 
 cerns of life. For there cannot be imagined in na- 
 ture a more forlorn, useless, and contemptible tool, 
 or more unfit for any thing, than a discovered cheat. 
 And let men rest assured of this, that there will be 
 always some as able to discover and find out deceit- 
 ful tricks, as others can be to contrive them. For 
 God forbid, that all the wit and cunning of the 
 world should still run on the deceiver's side ; and 
 when such little shifts and shuffling arts come once 
 to be ripped up and laid open, how poorly and 
 wretchedly must that man needs sneak, who finds 
 himself both guilty and baffled too ! a knave with- 
 out luck is certainly the worst trade in the world. 
 But truth makes the face of that person shine who 
 speaks and owns it : while a lie is like a vizard, that 
 may cover the face indeed, but can never become it ; 
 nor yet does it cover it so but that it leaves it open 
 enough for shame. It brands a man with a lasting, 
 indelible character of ignominy and reproach, and 
 that indeed so foul and odious, that those usurping
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 337 
 
 hectors, who pretend to honour without religion, 
 think the charge of a lie a blot upon them not to 
 be washed out, but by the blood of him that gives 
 it. 
 
 For what place can that man fill in a common- 
 wealth, whom nobody will either believe or employ ? 
 And no man can lie considerable in himself, who has 
 not made himself useful to others : nor can any man 
 be so, who is uncapable of a trust. He is neither 
 fit for counsel or friendship, for service or command, 
 to be in office or in honour, but, like salt that has 
 lost its savour, fit only to rot and perish upon a 
 dunghill. 
 
 For no man can rely upon such an one, either 
 with safety to his affairs, or without a slur to his re- 
 putation ; since he that trusts a knave has no other 
 recommence, but to be accounted a fool for his pains. 
 And if he trusts himself into ruin and beggary, he 
 falls unpitied, a sacrifice to his own folly and credu- 
 lity ; for he that suffers himself to be imposed upon 
 by a known deceiver, goes partner in the cheat, and 
 deceives himself. He is despised, and laughed at as 
 a soft and easy person, and as unfit to be relied upon 
 for his weakness, as the other can be for his false- 
 ness. 
 
 It is really a great misery not to know whom to 
 trust, but a much greater to behave one's self so as 
 not to be trusted. But this is the liar's lot ; he is 
 accounted a pest and a nuisance ; a person marked 
 out for infamy and scorn, and abandoned by all men 
 of sense and vvorth, and such as will not abandon 
 themselves. 
 
 2. The second reward or punishment that attends 
 the lying and deceitful person, is the hatred of all 
 
 VOL. I. Z
 
 338 A SERMON 
 
 those whom he either has or would have deceived. 
 I do not say, that a Christian can lawfully hate any 
 one ; and yet I affirm, that some may very worthily 
 deserve to be hated ; and of all men living, who 
 may or do, the deceiver certainly deserves it most. 
 To which I shall add this one remark further ; that 
 though men's persons ought not to be hated, yet 
 without all peradventure their practices justly may, 
 and particularly that detestable one which we are 
 now speaking of. 
 
 For whosoever deceives a man, does not only do 
 all that he can to ruin him, but, which is yet worse, 
 to make him ruin himself; and by causing an error 
 in the great guide of all his actions, his judgment, to 
 cause an error in his choice too ; the misguidance of 
 which must naturally engage him in those courses 
 that directly tend to his destruction. Loss of sight 
 is the misery of life, and usually the forerunner of 
 death ; when the malefactor comes once to be 
 muffled, and the fatal cloth drawn over his eyes, we 
 know that he is not far from his execution. 
 
 And this is so true, that whosoever sees a man 
 who would have beguiled and imposed upon him, by 
 making him believe a lie, he may truly say of that 
 person, That's the man who would have ruined 
 me, who would have stripped me of the dignity 
 of my nature, and put out the eyes of my reason, 
 to make himself sport with my calamity, my folly, 
 and my dishonour. For so the Philistines used 
 Sampson, and every man in this sad case has enough 
 of Sampson to be his own executioner. Accord- 
 ingly* if ever it comes to this, that a man can say 
 of his confident, he would have deceived me, he has 
 said enough to annihilate and abolish all pretences
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 339 
 
 of friendship. And it is really an intolerable impu- 
 dence, for any one to offer at the name of friend, 
 after such an attempt. For can there be any thing 
 of friendship an snares, hooks, and trepans? And 
 therefore, whosoever breaks with his friend upon 
 such terms, has enough to warrant him in so doing, 
 both before God and man ; and that without incur- 
 ring either the guilt of unfaithfulness before the one, 
 or the blemish of inconstancy before the other. For 
 this is not properly to break with a friend, but to 
 discover an enemy, and timely to shake the viper off 
 from one's hand. 
 
 What says the most wise author of that excellent 
 book of Ecclesiasticus, Ecclus. xxii. 21, 22. ? Though 
 thou drewest a sword at thy friend, yet despair 
 not: f on there may be a returning' to favour. If thou 
 hast opened thy mouth against thy friend, fear 
 not i for there may he a reconciliation. That is, an 
 hasty word or an indiscreet action does not pre- 
 sently dissolve the bond, or root out a well-settled 
 habit, but that friendship may be still sound at 
 heart; and so outgrow and wear off these little 
 distempers. But what follows ? Except for upbraid- 
 ing, or disclosing of secrets, or a treacherous wound, 
 (mark that :) for for these things, says he, every 
 friend will depart. And surely it is high time for 
 him to go, when such a devil drives him away. Pas- 
 sion, anger, and unkindness may give a wound that 
 shall bleed and smart, but it is treachery only that 
 makes it fester. 
 
 And the reason of the difference is manifest ; for 
 hasty words or blows may be only the effects of a 
 sudden passion, during which a man is not perfectly 
 himself: but no man goes about to deceive, or en- 
 
 z 2
 
 340 A SERMON 
 
 snare, or circumvent another in a passion; to lay 
 trains, and set traps, and give secret blows in a pre- 
 sent huff. No; this is always done with forecast 
 and design with a steady aiming ; and a long project- 
 ing malice, assisted with all the skill and art of an 
 expert and well-managed hypocrisy ; and, perhaps, 
 not without the pharisaical feigned guise of some- 
 thing like self-denial and mortification ; which are 
 things, in which the whole man, and the whole devil 
 too, are employed, and all the powers and faculties 
 of the mind are exerted and made use of. 
 
 But for all these masks and vizards, nothing cer- 
 tainly can be thought of or imagined more base, 
 inhuman, or diabolical, than for one to abuse the ge- 
 nerous confidence and hearty freedom of his friend, 
 and to undermine and ruin him in those very con- 
 cerns, which nothing but too great a respect to, and 
 too good an opinion of the traitor, made the poor 
 man deposit in his hollow and fallacious breast. Such 
 an one, perhaps, thinks to find some support and 
 shelter in my friendship, and I take that opportuni- 
 ty to betray him to his mortal enemies. He comes 
 to me for counsel, and I shew him a trick. He 
 opens his bosom to me, and I stab him to the heart. 
 
 These are the practices of the world we live in ; 
 especially since the year sixty, the grand epoch of 
 falsehood, as well as debauchery. But God, who is 
 the great guarantee for the peace, order, and good 
 behaviour of mankind, where laws cannot secure it, 
 may, some time or other, think it the concern of his 
 justice and providence too, to revenge the affronts 
 put upon them, by such impudent defiers of both, as 
 neither believe a God, nor ought to be believed by 
 man.
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 341 
 
 In the mean time, let such perfidious wretches 
 know, that though they believe a devil no more than 
 they do a God, yet in all this scene of refined 
 treachery, they are really doing the devil's journey- 
 work, who was a liar and a murderer from the be- 
 ginning, and therefore a liar, that he might be a 
 murderer : and the truth is, such an one does all to- 
 wards his brother's ruin that the devil himself could 
 do. For the devil can but tempt and deceive, and 
 if he cannot destroy a man .that way, his power is at 
 an end. 
 
 But I cannot dismiss this head without one fur- 
 ther note, as very material in the case now before us. 
 Namely, that since this false, wily, doubling disposi- 
 tion of mind is so intolerably mischievous to society, 
 God is -sometimes pleased, in mere pity and compas- 
 sion to men, to give them warning of it, by setting 
 some odd mark upon such Cains. So that, if a man 
 will be but so true to himself, as to observe such 
 persons exactly, he shall generally spy such false 
 lines, and such a sly, treacherous fleer upon their 
 face, that he shall be sure to have a cast of their eye 
 to warn him, before they give him a cast of their 
 nature to betray him. And in such cases, a man 
 may see more and better by another's eye, than he 
 can by his own. 
 
 Let this, therefore, be the second reward of the 
 lying and deceitful person, that he is the object of a 
 just hatred and abhorrence. For as the devil is 
 both a liar himself and the father of liars ; so I 
 think, that the same cause, that has drawn the ha- 
 tred of God and man upon the father, may justly 
 entail it upon his offspring too ; and it is pity that 
 such an entail should ever be cut off. But, 
 
 z 3
 
 342 A SERMON 
 
 3. And lastly, The last and utmost reward, that shall 
 infallibly reach the fraudulent and deceitful, (as it will 
 all other obstinate and impenitent sinners,) is a final 
 and eternal separation from God, who is truth itself, 
 and with whom no shadow of falsehood can dwell. 
 He that telleth lies, says David, in Psalm ci. 7- shall 
 not tarry in my sight ; and if not in the sight of a 
 poor mortal man, (who could sometimes lie himself, ) 
 how much less in the presence of the infinite and all- 
 knowing God ! A wise and good prince, or governor, 
 will not vouchsafe a liar the countenance of his 
 eye, and much less the privilege of his ear. The Spirit 
 of God seems to write this upon the very gates of 
 heaven, and to state the condition of men's entrance 
 into glory chiefly upon their veracity. In Psalm xv. 
 1. W^ho shall ascend into thy holy hill? says the 
 Psalmist. To which it is answered, in ver. 2. He 
 that worketh righteousness, and that speaketh the 
 truth from his heart. 
 
 And, on the other side, how emphatically is hell 
 described in the two last chapters of the Revelation ; 
 by being the great receptacle and mansion-house of 
 liars, whom we shall find there ranged with the 
 vilest and most detestable of all sinners, appointed 
 to have their portion in that horrid place, Rev. xxi. 
 8. The unbelieving, and the abominable, and mur- 
 derers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and ido- 
 laters, and all liars, shall have their part in the 
 lake which burneth with fire and brimstone : and in 
 Rev. xxii. 15. Without are dogs and sorcerers, &p. 
 and whosoever loveth and maketh a lie. 
 
 Now let those consider this, whose tongue and 
 heart hold no correspondence : who look upon it as 
 a piece of art and wisdom, and the masterpiece of
 
 ON PROVERBS XII. 22. 343 
 
 conversation, to overreach and deceive, and make 
 a prey of a credulous and well-meaning honesty. 
 What do such persons think ? Are dogs, whoremon- 
 gers, and sorcerers, such desirable company to take 
 up with for ever ? Will the burning lake be found so 
 tolerable ? Or will there be any one to drop refresh- 
 ment upon the false tongue, when it shall be tor- 
 mented in those flames ? Or do they think that God 
 is a liar like themselves, and that no such things 
 shall ever come to pass, but that all these fiery 
 threatenings shall vanish into smoke, and this dread- 
 ful sentence blow off without execution ? Few cer- 
 tainly can lie to their own hearts so far as to ima- 
 gine this : but hell is, and must be granted to be, the 
 deceiver's portion, not only by the judgment of God, 
 but ofHiis own conscience too. And, comparing the 
 malignity of his sin with the nature of the punish- 
 ment allotted for him, all that can be said of a liar 
 lodged in the very nethermost hell, is this ; that if 
 the vengeance of God could prepare any place or 
 condition worse than hell for sinners, hell itself would 
 be too good for him. 
 
 And now to sum up all in short ; I have shewn 
 what a lie is, and wherein the nature of falsehood 
 does consist ; that it is a thing absolutely and intrin- 
 sically evil ; that it is an act of injustice, and a vio- 
 lation of our neighbour's right. 
 
 And that the vileness of its nature is equalled by 
 the malignity of its effects. It being this that first 
 brought sin into the world, and is since the cause of 
 all those miseries and calamities that disturb it ; and 
 further, that it tends utterly to dissolve and over- 
 throw society, which is the greatest temporal bless- 
 ing and support of mankind : and, which is yet worst 
 
 z 4
 
 344 A SERMON ON PROV. XII. 22. 
 
 of all, that it has a strange and particular efficacy, 
 above all other sins, to indispose the heart to reli- 
 gion. 
 
 And lastly, that it is as dreadful in its punish- 
 ments, as it has been pernicious in its effects. For- 
 asmuch as it deprives a man of all credit and belief, 
 and consequently, of all capacity of being useful in 
 any station or condition of life whatsoever; and 
 next, that it draws upon him the just and universal 
 hatred and abhorrence of ah 1 men here ; and finally, 
 subjects him to the wrath of God and eternal dam- 
 nation hereafter. 
 
 And now, if none of all these considerations can 
 recommend and endear truth to the words and prac- 
 tices of men, and work upon their double hearts, so 
 far as to convince and make them sensible of the 
 baseness of the sin, and greatness of the guilt, that 
 fraud and falsehood leaves upon the soul ; let them 
 lie and cheat on, till they receive a fuller and more 
 effectual conviction of all these things, in that place 
 of torment and confusion, prepared for the devil and 
 his angels, and all his lying retinue, by the decree 
 and sentence of that God, who, in his threatenings 
 as well as in his promises, will be true to his word, 
 and cannot lie. 
 
 To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most 
 due, all praise, might, majesty, and dominion, 
 both now and for evermore. Amen.
 
 The practice of religion enforced by reason 
 
 IN 
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED AT WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1667. 
 
 TO THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD". 
 
 Reverend and learned Sirs, 
 
 J. HESB discourses (most of them at least) having by the 
 favour-of your patience had the honour of your audience, 
 and being now published in another and more lasting way, 
 do here humbly cast themselves at your feet, imploring the 
 yet greater favour and honour of your patronage, or at 
 least the benevolence of your pardon. 
 
 Amongst which, the chief design of some of them is, to 
 assert the rights and constitutions of our excellently re- 
 formed church, which of late we so often hear reproached 
 (in the modish dialect of the present times) by the name of 
 little things; and that in order to their being laid aside, 
 not only as little, but superfluous. But for my own part, 
 I can account nothing little in any church, which has the 
 stamp of undoubted authority, and the practice of primitive 
 antiquity, as well as the reason and decency of the thing it- 
 self, to warrant and support it. Though, if the supposed 
 littleness of these matters should be a sufficient reason for 
 the laying them aside, I fear our church will be found to 
 have more little men to spare, than little things. 
 
 But I have observed all along, that while this innovating 
 
 a 'fhi$ dedication refers to the twelve sermons next following.
 
 346 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 spirit has been striking at the constitutions of our church, 
 the same has been giving several bold and scurvy strokes 
 at some of her articles too : an evident demonstration to 
 me, that whensoever her discipline shall be destroyed, her 
 doctrine will not long survive it : and I doubt not but it is 
 for the sake of this, that the former is so much maligned 
 and shot at. Pelagianism and Socinianism, with several 
 other heterodoxies cognate to and dependent upon them, 
 which of late, with so much confidence and scandalous coun- 
 tenance, walk about daring the world, are certainly no doc- 
 trines of the church of England. And none are abler and 
 fitter to make them appear what they are, and whither 
 they tend, than our excellent and so well stocked univer- 
 sities ; and if these will but bestir themselves against all in- 
 novators whatsoever, it will quickly be seen, that our church 
 needs none, either to fill her places or to defend her doc- 
 trines, but the sons whom she herself has brought forth and 
 bred up. Her charity is indeed great to others, and the 
 greater, for that she is so well provided of all that can con- 
 tribute either to her strength or ornament without them. 
 The altar receives and protects such as fly to it, but needs 
 them not. 
 
 We are not so dull, but we perceive who are the prime 
 designers, as well as the professed actors against our church, 
 and from what quarter the blow chiefly threatens us. We 
 know the spring as well as we observe the motion, and 
 scent the foot which pursues, as well as see the hand which 
 is lifted up against us. The pope is an experienced work- 
 man ; he knows his tools, and knows them to be but tools, 
 and knows withal how to use them, and that so, that they 
 shall neither know who it is that uses them, or what he 
 uses them for ; and we cannot in reason presume his skill 
 now in ninety-three, to be at all less than it was in forty- 
 one. But God, who has even to a miracle protected the 
 church of England hitherto, against all the power and 
 spite both of her open and concealed enemies, will, we 
 hope, continue to protect so pure and rational, so innocent 
 and self-denying a constitution still. And next, under
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 347 
 
 God, we must rely upon the old church of England clergy, 
 together with the two universities, both to support and re- 
 cover her declining state. For so long as the universities 
 are sound and orthodox, the church has both her eyes 
 open ; and while she has so, it is to be hoped that she will 
 look about her, and consider again and again, what she is 
 to change from, and what she must change to, and where 
 she shall make an end of changing, before she quits her 
 present constitution. 
 
 Innovations about religion are certainly the most effica- 
 cious, as well as the most plausible way of compassing a to- 
 tal abolition of it. One of the best and strongest arguments 
 we have against popery is, that it is an innovation upon the 
 Christian church ; and if so, I cannot see why that, which 
 we explode in the popish church, should pass for such a 
 piece of perfection in a reformed one. The papists I am 
 sure (ouj 1 shrewdest and most designing enemies) desire and 
 push -n this to their utmost; and for that very reason 
 one would think, that we (if we are not besotted) should 
 oppose it to our utmost too. However, let us but have our 
 liturgy continued to us as it is, till the persons are born 
 who shall be able to mend it, or make a better, and we de- 
 sire no greater security against either the altering this, or 
 introducing another. 
 
 The truth is, such as would new model the church of 
 England ought not only to have a new religion, (which 
 some have been so long driving at,) but a new reason like- 
 wise, to proceed by : since experience (which was ever yet 
 accounted one of the surest and best improvements of rea- 
 son) has been always for acquiescing in things settled with 
 sober and mature advice, (and, in the present case also, with 
 the very blood and martyrdom of the advisers themselves,) 
 without running the risk of new experiments ; which, though 
 in philosophy they may be commendable, yet in religion and 
 religious matters are generally fatal and pernicious. The 
 church is a royal society for settling old things, and not 
 for finding out new. In a word, we serve a wise and un- 
 changeable God, and we desire to do it by a religion and
 
 348 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 
 
 in a church (as like him as may be) without changes or 
 alterations. 
 
 And now, as in so important a matter, I would interest 
 both universities, so I do it with the same honour and de- 
 ference to both ; as abhorring from my heart the pedantic 
 partiality of preferring one before the other : since (if my 
 relation to one should never so much incline me so to do) I 
 must sincerely declare, that I cannot see how to place a pre- 
 ference, where I can find no preeminence. And therefore, 
 as they are both equal in fame, and learning, and all that is 
 great and excellent, so I hope to see them always one in 
 judgment and design, heart and affection ; without any strife, 
 emulation, or contest between them except this one, (which 
 I wish may be perpetual,) viz. which of the two best uni- 
 versities in the world shall be most serviceable to the best 
 church in the world, by their learning, constancy, and inte- 
 grity. 
 
 But to conclude, there remains no more for me to do, but 
 to beg pardon of that august body to which I belong, if I 
 have offended in assuming to myself the honour of mention- 
 ing my relation to a society, which I could never reflect the 
 least honour upon, nor contribute the least advantage to. 
 
 All that I can add is, that as it was my fortune to serve 
 this noble seat of learning for many years, as her public, 
 though unworthy orator ; so upon that, and other innume- 
 rable accounts, I ought for ever to be, and to acknowledge 
 myself, 
 
 Her most faithful, obedient, 
 
 and devoted servant, 
 
 Westminster Abbey, ROBERT SOUTH. 
 
 Novemb. 17, 1693.
 
 PROV. x. 9- 
 He that walketh uprightly waOffik surely. 
 
 As it were easy to evince, both from reason and 
 experience, that there is a strange, restless activity 
 in the soul of man, continually disposing it to ope- 
 rate, and exert its faculties ; so the phrase of scrip- 
 ture still expresses the life of man by walking ; that 
 is, it represents an active principle in an active pos- 
 ture. And because the nature of man carries him 
 thus out to action, it is no wonder if the same na- 
 ture equally renders him solicitous about the issue 
 and event of his actions : for every one, by reflecting 
 upon the way and method of his own workings, 
 will fijid that he is still determined in them by a 
 respect to the consequence of what he does ; always 
 proceeding upon this argumentation ; If I do such a 
 thing, such an advantage will follow from it, and 
 therefore I will do it. And if I do this, such a mis- 
 chief will ensue thereupon, and therefore I will for- 
 bear. Every one, I say, is concluded by this practical 
 discourse ; and for a man to bring his actions to 
 the event proposed and designed by him, is to walk 
 surely. But since the event of an action usually 
 follows the nature or quality of it, and the quality 
 follows the rule directing it, it concerns a man, by 
 all means, in the framing of his actions, not to be 
 deceived in the rule which he proposes for the mea- 
 sure of them ; which, without great and exact cau- 
 tion, he may be these two ways : 
 
 1. By laying false and deceitful principles. 
 
 2. In case he lays right principles, yet by mis-
 
 350 A SERMON 
 
 taking in the consequences which he draws from 
 them. 
 
 An error in either of which is equally dangerous ; 
 for if a man is to draw a line, it is all one whether 
 he does it by a crooked rule, or by a straight one 
 misapplied. He who fixes upon false principles 
 treads upon infirm ground, and so sinks ; and he 
 who fails in his deductions from right principles, 
 stumbles upon firm ground, and so falls ; the disas- 
 ter is not of the same kind, but of the same mischief 
 in both. 
 
 It must be confessed, that it is sometimes very 
 hard to judge of the truth or goodness of principles, 
 considered barely in themselves, and abstracted from 
 their consequences. But certainly he acts upon the 
 surest and most prudential grounds in the world, 
 who, whether the principles which he acts upon 
 prove true or false, yet secures an happy issue to his 
 actions. 
 
 Now he who guides his actions by the rules of 
 piety and religion, lays these two principles as the 
 great ground of all that he does : 
 
 1. That there is an infinite, eternal, all-wise mind 
 governing the affairs of the world, and taking such 
 an account of the actions of men, as, according to 
 the quality of them, to punish or reward them. 
 
 2dly, That there is an estate of happiness or 
 misery after this life, allotted to every man, accord- 
 ing to the quality of his actions here. These, I say, 
 are the principles which every religious man pro- 
 poses to himself; and the deduction which he makes 
 from them is this : That it is his grand interest and 
 concern so to act and behave himself in this world,
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 351 
 
 as to secure himself from an estate of misery in the 
 other. And thus to act, is, in the phrase of scrip- 
 ture, to walk uprightly ; and it is my business to 
 prove, that he who acts in the strength of this con- 
 clusion, drawn from the two forementioned prin- 
 ciples, walks surely, or secures an happy, event to 
 his actions, against all contingencies whatsoever. 
 
 And to demonstrate this, I shall consider the 
 said principles under a threefold supposition: 
 
 1st, As certainly true ; 
 
 2dly, As probable ; and, 
 
 3dly, As false. 
 
 And if the pious man brings his actions to an 
 happy end, which soever of these suppositions his 
 principles fall under, then certainly, there is none 
 who walks so surely, and upon such irrefragable 
 grounds of prudence, as he who is religious. 
 
 1. First of all therefore we will take these princi- 
 ples (as we may very well do) under the hypothesis 
 of certainly true : where, though the method of the 
 ratiocination which I have cast the present discourse 
 into, does not naturally engage me to prove them so, 
 but only to shew what directly and necessarily fol- 
 lows upon a supposal that they are so ; yet to give 
 the greater perspicuity and clearness to the prosecu- 
 tion of the subject in hand, I shall briefly demon- 
 strate them thus. 
 
 It is necessary, that there should be some first 
 mover ; and, if so, a first being ; and the first being 
 must infer an infinite, unlimited perfection in the 
 said being : forasmuch as if it were finite or limited, 
 that limitation must have been either from itself or 
 from something else. But not from itself, since it is 
 contrary to reason and nature, that any being should
 
 352 A SERMON 
 
 limit its own perfection ; nor yet from something 
 else, since then it should not have been the first, as 
 supposing some other thing coevous to it ; which is 
 against the present supposition. So that it being 
 clear, that there must be a first being, and that in- 
 finitely perfect, it will follow, that all other perfec- 
 tion that is, must be derived from it ; and so we in- 
 fer the creation of the world : and then supposing 
 the world created by God, (since it is no ways re- 
 concileable to God's wisdom, that he should not also 
 govern it,) creation must needs infer providence : 
 and then it being granted, that God governs the 
 world, it will follow also, that he does it by means 
 suitable to the natures of the things he governs, and 
 to the attainment of the proper ends of government : 
 and moreover, man being by nature a free, moral 
 agent, and so, capable of deviating from his duty, as 
 well as performing it, it is necessary that he should be 
 governed by laws : and since laws require that they 
 be enforced with the sanction of rewards and punish- 
 ments, sufficient to sway and work upon the minds 
 of such as are to be governed by them ; and lastly, 
 since experience shews that rewards and punish- 
 ments, terminated only within this life, are not suf- 
 ficient for that purpose, it fairly and rationally fol- 
 lows, that the rewards and punishments, which God 
 governs mankind by, do and must look beyond it. 
 
 And thus I have given a brief proof of the cer- 
 tainty of these principles ; namely, that there is a 
 supreme governor of the world ; and that there is a 
 future estate of happiness or misery for men after 
 this life : which principles, while a man steers his 
 course by, if he acts piously, soberly, and tempe- 
 rately, I suppose there needs no further arguments
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 353 
 
 to evince, that he acts prudentially and safely. For 
 he acts as under the eye of his just and severe Judge, 
 who reaches to his creature a command with one 
 hand, and a reward with the other. He spends as a 
 person who knows that he must come to a reckon- 
 ing. He sees an eternal happiness or misery sus- 
 pended upon a few days' behaviour ; and therefore 
 he lives every hour as for eternity. His future con- 
 dition has such a powerful influence upon his pre- 
 sent practice, because he entertains a continual ap- 
 prehension and a firm persuasion of it. If a man 
 walks over a narrow bridge when he is drunk, it is 
 no wonder that he forgets his caution, while he over- 
 looks his danger. But he who is sober, and views 
 that nice separation between himself and the de- 
 vouring^deep, so that if he should slip, he sees his 
 grave gaping under him, surely must needs take 
 every step with horror, and the utmost caution and 
 solicitude. 
 
 But for a man to believe it as the most undoubted 
 certainty in the world, that he shall be judged ac- 
 cording to the quality of his actions here, and after 
 judgment receive an eternal recompence, and yet to 
 take his full swing in all the pleasures of sin, is it 
 not a greater phrensy, than for a man to take a 
 purse at Tyburn, while he is actually seeing another 
 hanged for the same fact ? It is really to dare 
 and defy the justice of Heaven, to laugh at right- 
 aiming thunderbolts, to puff at damnation, and, in 
 a word, to bid Omnipotence do its worst. He indeed 
 who thus walks, walks surely ; but it is because he 
 is sure to be damned. 
 
 I confess it is hard to reconcile such a stupid 
 course to the natural way of the soul's acting ; ac- 
 
 VOL. I. A a
 
 354 A SERMON 
 
 cording to which, the will moves according to the 
 proposals of good and evil, made by the understand- 
 ing : and therefore for a man to run headlong into 
 the bottomless pit, while the eye of a seeing con- 
 science assures him that it is bottomless and open, 
 and all return from it desperate and impossible; 
 while his ruin stares him in the face, and the sword 
 of vengeance points directly at his heart, still to press 
 on to the embraces of his sin, is a problem unresolv- 
 able upon any other ground, but that sin infatuates 
 before it destroys. For Judas to receive and swallow 
 the sop, when his master gave it him seasoned with 
 those terrible words, It had been good for that 'man 
 that he had never been born ; surely this argued a 
 furious appetite and a strong stomach, that could thus 
 catch at a morsel with the fire and brimstone all 
 flaming about it, and, as it were, digest death itself, 
 and make a meal upon perdition. 
 
 I could wish that every bold sinner, when he is 
 about to engage in the commission of any known sin, 
 would arrest his confidence, and for a while stop the 
 execution of his purpose, with this short question, 
 Do I believe that it is really true, that God has de- 
 nounced death to such a practice, or do I not ? If he 
 does not, let him renounce his Christianity, and sur- 
 render back his baptism, the water of which might 
 better serve him to cool his tongue in hell, than on- 
 ly to consign him over to the capacity of so black 
 an apostasy. But if he does believe it, how will he 
 acquit himself upon the accounts of bare reason ? 
 For does he think, that if he pursues the means of 
 death, they will not bring him to that fatal end ? Or 
 does he think that he can grapple with divine ven- 
 geance, and endure the everlasting burnings, or arm
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 355 
 
 himself against the bites of the never-dying worm ? 
 No, surely, these are things not to be imagined ; and 
 therefore I cannot conceive what security the pre- 
 suming sinner can promise himself, but upon these 
 two following accounts. 
 
 1. That God is merciful, and will not be so severe 
 as his word ; and that his threatenings of eternal tor- 
 ments are not so decretory and absolute, but that 
 there is a very comfortable latitude left in them for 
 men of skill to creep out at. And here it must in- 
 deed be confessed, that Origen, and some others, not 
 long since, who have been so officious as to furbish 
 up and reprint his old errors, hold, that the sufferings 
 of the damned are not to be, in a strict sense, eter- 
 nal ; but that, after a certain revolution and period 
 of time^ there shall be a general gaol-delivery of the 
 souls in prison, and that not for a further execution, 
 but a final release. And it must be further acknow- 
 ledged, that some of the ancients, like kind-hearted 
 men, have talked much of annual refrigeriums, res- 
 pites, or intervals of punishment to the damned, as 
 particularly on the great festivals of the resurrection, 
 ascension, pentecost, and the like. In which, as these 
 good men are more to be commended for their kind- 
 ness and compassion, than to be followed in their 
 opinion ; (which may be much better argued by 
 wishes than demonstrations ;) so, admitting that it 
 were true, yet what a pitiful, slender comfort would 
 this amount to ! much like the Jews abating the pu- 
 nishment of malefactors from forty stripes to forty 
 save one. A great indulgence indeed, even as great 
 as the difference between forty and thirty-nine ; and 
 yet much less considerable would that indulgence be 
 of a few holydays in the measures of eternity, of 
 
 Aa 2
 
 356 A SERMON 
 
 some hours* ease, compared with infinite ages of 
 torment. 
 
 Supposing therefore, that few sinners relieve them- 
 selves with such groundless, trifling considerations as 
 these, yet may they not however fasten a rational 
 hope upon the boundless mercy of God, that this may 
 induce him to spare his poor creature, though by sin 
 become obnoxious to his wrath ? To this I answer, 
 that the divine mercy is indeed large, and far sur- 
 passing all created measures, yet nevertheless it has 
 its proper time ; and after this life it is the time of 
 justice ; and to hope for the favours of mercy then, 
 is to expect an harvest in the dead of winter. God 
 has cast all his works into a certain, inviolable order; 
 according to which, there is a time to pardon and a 
 time to punish ; and the time of one is not the time 
 of the other. When corn has once felt the sickle, it 
 has no more benefit from the sunshine. But, 
 
 2dly, If the conscience be too apprehensive (as 
 for the most part it is) to venture the final issue of 
 things upon a fond persuasion, that the great Judge 
 of the world will relent, and not execute the sentence 
 pronounced by him; as if he had threatened men 
 with hell rather to fright them from sin, than with 
 an intent to punish them for it ; I say, if the con- 
 science cannot find any satisfaction or support from 
 such reasonings as these, yet may it not, at least, re- 
 lieve itself with the purposes of a future repentance, 
 notwithstanding its present actual violations of the 
 law ? I answer, that this certainly is a confidence of 
 all others the most ungrounded and irrational. For 
 upon what ground can a man promise himself a fu- 
 ture repentance, who cannot promise himself a futu- 
 rity ? whose life depends upon his breath, and is so
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 357 
 
 restrained to the present, that it cannot secure to it- 
 self the reversion of the very next minute. Have 
 not many died with the guilt of impenitence and the 
 designs of repentance together ? If a man dies to day, 
 by the prevalence of some ill humours, will it avail 
 him, that he intended to have bled and purged to- 
 morrow ? 
 
 But how dares sinful dust and ashes invade the 
 prerogative of Providence, and carve out to himself 
 the seasons and issues of life and death, which the 
 Father keeps wholly within his own power ? How 
 does that man, who thinks he sins securely under the 
 shelter of some remote purposes of amendment, 
 know, but that the decree above may be already pass- 
 ed against him, and his allowance of mercy spent ; 
 so that^lhe bow in the clouds is now drawn, and the 
 arrow levelled at his head : and not many days like 
 to pass, but perhaps an apoplexy, or an imposthume, 
 or some sudden disaster, may stop his breath, and 
 reap him down as a sinner ripe for destruction. 
 
 I conclude therefore, that, upon supposition of the 
 certain truth of the principles of religion, he who 
 walks not uprightly has neither from the presump- 
 tion of God's mercy reversing the decree of his jus- 
 tice, nor from his own purposes of a future repent- 
 ance, any sure ground to set his foot upon ; but in 
 this whole course acts as directly in contradiction to 
 nature, as he does in defiance of grace. In a word, 
 he is besotted, and has lost his reason ; and what 
 then can there be for religion to take hold of him 
 by ? Come we now to the 
 
 2d supposition, under which we shew, That the 
 principles of religion laid down by us might be con- 
 sidered, and that is, as only probable. Where wi 
 
 Aa 3
 
 358 A SERMON 
 
 must observe, that probability does not properly 
 make any alteration, either iji the truth or falsity of 
 things ; but only imports a different degree of their 
 clearness or appearance to the understanding. So 
 that that is to be accounted probable, which has more 
 and better arguments producible for it, than can be 
 brought against it ; and surely such a thing at least 
 is religion. For certain it is, that religion is univer- 
 sal, I mean the first rudiments and general notions 
 of religion, called natural religion, and consisting in 
 the acknowledgment of a Deity, and of the common 
 principles of morality, and a future estate of souls 
 after death, (in which also we have all that some 
 reformers and refiners amongst us would reduce 
 Christianity itself to.) This notion of religion, I say, 
 has diffused itself in some degree or other, greater 
 or less, as far as human nature extends. So that 
 there is no nation in the world, though plunged into 
 never such gross and absurd idolatry, but has some 
 awful sense of a Deity, and a persuasion of a state of 
 retribution to men after this life. 
 
 But now, if there are really no such things, but 
 all is a mere lie and a fable, contrived only to chain 
 up the liberty of man's nature from a freer enjoy- 
 ment of those things, which otherwise it would have 
 as full a right to enjoy as to breathe, I demand 
 whence this persuasion could thus come to be uni- 
 versal ? For was it ever known, in any other instance, 
 that the whole world was brought to conspire in 
 the belief of a lie ? Nay, and of such a lie, as should 
 lay upon men such unpleasing abridgments, tying 
 them up from a full gratification of those lusts and 
 appetites which they so impatiently desire to satisfy, 
 and consequently, by all means, to remove those im-
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 359 
 
 pediments that might any way obstruct their satis- 
 faction ? Since therefore it cannot be made out upon 
 any principle of reason, how all the nations in the 
 world, otherwise so distant in situation, manners, 
 interests, and inclinations, should, by design or com- 
 bination, meet in one persuasion ; and withal that 
 men, who so mortally hate to be deceived and im- 
 posed upon, should yet suffer themselves to be de- 
 ceived by such a persuasion as is false ; and not on- 
 ly false, but also cross and contrary to their strongest 
 desires ; so that if it were false, they would set the 
 utmost force of their reason on work to discover that 
 falsity, and thereby disin thrall themselves ; and fur- 
 ther, since there is nothing false, but what may be 
 proved to be so ; and yet, lastly, since all the power 
 and industry of man's mind has not been hitherto 
 able to prove a falsity in the principles of religion, it 
 irrefragably follows, (and that, I suppose, without 
 gathering any more into the conclusion than has 
 been made good in the premises,) that religion is at 
 least a very high probability. 
 
 And this is that which I here contend for, That it 
 is not necessary to the obliging men to believe reli- 
 gion to be true, that this truth be made out to their 
 reason by arguments demonstratively certain ; but 
 that it is sufficient to render their unbelief unexcus- 
 able, even upon the account of bare reason, if so be 
 the truth of religion carry in it a much greater pro- 
 bability, than any of those ratiocinations that pre- 
 tend the contrary : and this I prove in the strength of 
 these two considerations. 
 
 1st, That no man, in matters of this life, requires 
 an assurance either of the good which he designs, or 
 of the evil which he avoids, from arguments demon- 
 
 A a 4
 
 360 A SERMON 
 
 stratively certain ; but judges himself to have suffi- 
 cient ground to act upon, from a probable persuasion 
 of the event of things. No man who first trafficks in- 
 to a foreign country has any scientific evidence that 
 there is such a country, but by report, which can 
 produce no more than a moral certainty : that is. a 
 very high probability, and such as there can be no 
 reason to except against. He who has a" probable 
 belief, that he shall meet with thieves in such a road, 
 thinks himself to have reason enough to decline it. 
 albeit he is sure to sustain some less (though yet con- 
 siderable) inconvenience by his so doing. But per- 
 haps it may be replied, (and it is all that can be re- 
 plied,) that a greater assurance and evidence is re- 
 quired of the things and concerns of the other world, 
 than of the interests of this. To which 1 answer, 
 that assurance and evidence (terms, by the way. ex- 
 tremely different ; the first, respecting properly the 
 ground of our assenting to a thing ; and the other, 
 the clearness of the thing or object assented to) have 
 no place at all here, as being contrary to our present 
 supposition ; according to which, we are now treat- 
 ing of the practical principles of religion only as pro- 
 bable, and falling under a probable persuasion. And 
 for this I affirm, that where the case is about the ha- 
 zarding an eternal or a temporal concern, there a 
 less degree of probability ought to engage our cau- 
 tion against the loss of the former, than is necessary 
 to engage it about preventing the loss of the latter. 
 Forasmuch as where things are least to be put to the 
 venture, as the eternal interests of the other world 
 ought to be ; there every, even the least, probability 
 or likelihood of danger, should be provided against ; 
 but where the loss can be but temporal, every small
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 3G1 
 
 probability of it need not put us so anxiously to pre- 
 vent it, since, though it should happen, the loss might 
 be repaired again ; or if not, could not however de- 
 stroy us, by reaching us in our greatest and highest 
 concern ; which no temporal thing whatsoever is or 
 can be. And this directly introduces the 
 
 2d consideration or argument, viz. That bare rea- 
 son, discoursing upon a principle of self-preservation, 
 (which surely is the fundamental principle which na- 
 ture proceeds by,) will oblige a man voluntarily and 
 by choice to undergo any less evil to secure himself 
 but from the probability of an evil incomparably 
 greater, and that also such an one, as, if that proba- 
 bility passes into a certain event, admits of no repa- 
 ration by any after-remedy that can be applied to it. 
 
 Now, that religion, teaching a future estate of 
 souls, is a probability, and that its contrary cannot 
 with equal probability be proved, we have already 
 evinced. This therefore being supposed, we will 
 suppose yet further, that for a man to abridge him- 
 self in the full satisfaction of his appetites and in- 
 clinations, is an evil, because a present pain and 
 trouble : but then it must likewise be granted, that 
 nature must needs abhor a state of eternal pain and 
 misery much more ; and that if a man does not 
 undergo the former less evil, it is highly probable 
 that such an eternal estate of misery will be his por- 
 tion ; and if so, I would fain know whether that 
 man takes a rational course to preserve himself, who 
 refuses the endurance of these lesser troubles, to se- 
 cure himself from a condition infinitely and incon- 
 ceivably more miserable. 
 
 But since probability, in the nature of it, supposes 
 that a thing may or may not be so, for any thing
 
 362 A SERMON 
 
 that yet appears, or is certainly determined on either 
 side, we will here consider both sides of this proba- 
 bility : as, 
 
 1st, That it is one way possible, that there may be 
 no such thing as a future estate of happiness or 
 misery for those who have lived well or ill here ; 
 and then he who, upon the strength of a contrary 
 belief, abridged himself in the gratification of his ap- 
 petites, sustains only this evil; viz. That he did 
 not please his senses and unbounded desires, so much 
 as otherwise he might and would have done, had lie 
 not lived under the captivity and check of such a 
 belief. This is the utmost which he suffers : but 
 whether this be a real evil or no, (whatsoever vulgar 
 minds may commonly think it,) shall be discoursed 
 of afterwards. 
 
 2. But then again, on the other side, it is probable 
 that there will be such a future estate ; and then 
 how miserably is the voluptuous, sensual unbeliever 
 left in the lurch ! For there can be no retreat for 
 him then, no mending of his choice in the other 
 world, no after-game to be played in hell. It fares 
 with men, in reference to their future estate, and the 
 condition upon which they must pass to it, much 
 as it does with a merchant having a vessel richly 
 fraught at sea in a storm : the storm grows higher 
 and higher, and threatens the utter loss of the ship : 
 but there is one, and but one certain way to save 
 it, which is, by throwing its rich lading overboard ; 
 yet, still, for all this, the man knows not but pos- 
 sibly the storm may cease, and so all be preserved. 
 However, in the mean time, there is little or no 
 probability that it will do so ; and in case it should 
 not, he is then assured, that he must lay his life, as
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 363 
 
 well as his rich commodities, in the cruel deep. Now 
 in this case, would this man, think we, act rationally, 
 should he, upon the slender possibility of escaping 
 otherwise, neglect the sure, infallible preservation of 
 his life, by casting away his rich goods? No cer- 
 tainly, it would be so far from it, that should the 
 storm, by a strange hap, cease immediately after he 
 had thus thrown away his riches, yet the throwing 
 them away was infinitely more rational and eligi- 
 ble, than the retaining or keeping them could have 
 been. 
 
 For a man, while he lives here in the world, to 
 doubt whether there be any hell or no ; and there- 
 upon to live so, as if absolutely there were none ; 
 but when he dies, to find himself confuted in the 
 flames ; this, surely, must be the height of woe and 
 disappointment, and a bitter conviction of an irra- 
 tional venture and an absurd choice. In doubtful 
 cases, reason still determines for the safer side ; espe- 
 cially if the case be not only doubtful, but also 
 highly concerning, and the venture be of a soul and 
 an eternity. 
 
 He who sat at a table, richly and deliciously 
 furnished, but with a sword hanging over his head 
 by one single thread or hair, surely had enough to 
 check his appetite, even against all the ragings of 
 hunger and temptations of sensuality. The only 
 argument that could any way encourage his appetite 
 was, that possibly the sword might not fall; but 
 when his reason should encounter it with another 
 question, What if it should fall? and moreover, 
 that pitiful stay by which it hung should oppose 
 the likelihood that it would, to a mere possibility 
 that it might riot; what could the man enjoy or
 
 364 A SERMON 
 
 taste of his rich banquet, with all this doubt and 
 horror working in his mind ? 
 
 Though a man's condition should be really in itself 
 never so safe, yet an apprehension and surmise that 
 it is not safe, is enough to make a quick and a ten- 
 der reason sufficiently miserable. Let the most acute 
 and learned unbeliever demonstrate that there is no 
 hell : and if he can, he sins so much the more ra- 
 tionally ; otherwise, if he cannot, the case remains 
 doubtful at least : but he who sins obstinately, does 
 not act as if it were so much as doubtful ; for if 
 it were certain and evident to sense, he could do 
 no more ; but for a man to found a confident practice 
 upon a disputable principle, is brutishly to outrun 
 his reason, and to build ten times wider than his 
 foundation. In a word, I look upon this one short 
 consideration, were there no more, as a sufficient 
 ground for any rational man to take up his religion 
 upon, and which I defy the subtlest atheist in the 
 world solidly to answer or confute ; namely, That 
 it is good to be sure. And so I proceed to the 
 
 Third and last supposition, under which the prin- 
 ciples of religion may, for argument sake, be con- 
 sidered ; and that is, as false ; which surely must 
 reach the utmost thoughts of any atheist what- 
 soever. Nevertheless even upon this account also, 
 I doubt not but to evince, that he who walks up- 
 rightly walks much more surely than the wicked and 
 profane liver ; and that with reference to the most 
 valued temporal enjoyments, such as are reputation, 
 quietness, health, and the like, which are the greatest 
 which this life affords, or is desirable for. And, 
 
 1st, For reputation or credit. Is any one had in 
 greater esteem than the just person ; who has given
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 365 
 
 the world an assurance, by the constant tenor of his 
 practice, that he makes a conscience of his ways ; 
 that he scorns to do an unworthy or a base thing ; 
 to lie, to defraud, to undermine another's interest, 
 by any sinister and inferior arts ? And is there any 
 thing which reflects a greater lustre upon a man's 
 person, than a severe temperance, and a restraint of 
 himself from vicious and unlawful pleasures ? Does 
 any thing shine so bright as virtue, and that even in 
 the eyes of those who are void of it ? For hardly 
 shall you find any one so bad, but he desires the 
 credit of being thought what his vice will not let 
 him be ; so great a pleasure and convenience is it, 
 to live with honour and a fair acceptance amongst 
 those whom we converse with ; and a being without 
 it is ot life, but rather the skeleton or caput mor- 
 tuum of life; like time without day, or day itself with- 
 out the shining of the sun to enliven it. 
 
 On the other side, is there any thing that more 
 embitters all the enjoyments of this life than shame 
 and reprpach ? Yet this is generally the lot and 
 portion of the impious and irreligious ; and of some 
 of them more especially. 
 
 For how infamous, in the first place, is the false, 
 fraudulent, and unconscionable person ! and how 
 quickly is his character known ! For hardly ever 
 did any man of no conscience continue a man of any 
 credit long. Likewise, how odious, as well as infa- 
 mous, is such an one ! Especially if he be arrived at 
 that consummate and robust degree of falsehood, as 
 to play in and out, and shew tricks with oaths, the 
 sacredest bonds which the conscience of man can 
 be bound with ; how is such an one shunned and 
 dreaded, like a walking pest ! What volleys of
 
 36G A SERMON 
 
 scoffs, curses, and satires, are discharged at him ! so 
 that let never so much honour be placed upon him, 
 it cleaves not to him, but forthwith ceases to be ho- 
 nour, by being so placed ; no preferment can sweeten 
 him, but the higher he stands, the farther and wider 
 he stinks. 
 
 In like manner for the drinker and debauched 
 person : is any thing more the object of scorn and 
 contempt than such an one ? His company is justly 
 looked upon as a disgrace : and nobody can own a 
 friendship for him without being an enemy to him- 
 self. A drunkard is, as it were, outlawed from all 
 worthy and creditable converse. Men abhor, loathe, 
 and despise him, and would even spit at him as 
 they meet him, were it not for fear that a stomach 
 so charged should something more than spit at 
 them. 
 
 But not to go over all the several kinds of vice 
 and wickedness, should we set aside the considera- 
 tion of the glories of a better world, and allow this 
 life for the only place and scene of man's happiness, 
 yet surely Cato will be always more honourable 
 than Clodius, and Cicero than Catiline. Fidelity, 
 justice, and temperance will always draw their own 
 reward after them, or rather carry it with them, in 
 those marks of honour which they fix upon the per- 
 sons who practise and pursue them. It is said of 
 David in 1 Chron. xxix. 28. that he died full of 
 days, riches, and honour : and there was no need 
 of an heaven, to render him in all respects a much 
 happier man than Saul. But in the 
 
 2d place, The virtuous and religious person walks 
 upon surer grounds than the vicious and irreligious, 
 in respect of the ease, peace, and quietness which he
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 367 
 
 enjoys in this world ; and which certainly make no 
 small part of human felicity. For anxiety and la- 
 bour are great ingredients of that curse which sin 
 has entailed upon fallen man. Care and toil came 
 into the world with sin, and remain ever since inse- 
 parable from it, both as to its punishment and effect. 
 The service of sin is perfect slavery ; and he who 
 will pay obedience to the commands of it shall find 
 it an unreasonable taskmaster, an,d an unmeasurable 
 exactor. 
 
 And to represent the case in some particulars. 
 The ambitious person must rise early and sit up 
 late, and pursue his design with a constant, indefati- 
 gable attendance ; he must be infinitely patient and 
 servile, and obnoxious to all the cross humours of 
 those whom he expects to rise by ; he must endure 
 and digest all sorts of affronts ; adore the foot that 
 kicks him, and kiss the hand that strikes him : while, 
 in the mean time, the humble and contented man is 
 virtuous at a much easier rate : his virtue bids him 
 sleep, and take his rest, while the other's restless sin 
 bids him sit up and watch. He pleases himself in- 
 nocently and easily, while the ambitious man at- 
 tempts to please others sinfully and difficultly, and 
 perhaps in the issue unsuccessfully too. 
 
 The robber, and man of rapine, must run, and 
 ride, and use all the dangerous and even desperate 
 ways of escape ; and probably, after all, his sin be- 
 trays him to a gaol, and from thence advances him 
 to the gibbet : but let him carry off his booty with 
 as much safety and success as he can wish, yet 
 the innocent person, with never so little of his own, 
 envies him not, and, if he has nothing, fears him not. 
 
 Likewise the cheat and fraudulent person is put
 
 368 A SERMON 
 
 to a thousand shifts to palliate his fraud, and to be 
 thought an honest man : but surely there can be no 
 greater labour than to be always dissembling, and 
 forced to maintain a constant disguise, there being 
 so many ways by which a smothered truth is apt to 
 blaze and break out; the very nature of things 
 making it not more natural for them to be, than to 
 appear as they be. But he who will be really 
 honest, just, and sincere in his dealings, needs take 
 no pains to be thought so ; no more than the sun 
 needs take any pains to shine, or, when he is up, to 
 convince the world that it is day. 
 
 And here again to bring in the man of luxury 
 and intemperance for his share in the pain and trou- 
 ble, as well as in the forementioned shame and in- 
 famy of his vice. Can any toil or day-labour equal 
 the fatigue or drudgery which such an one under- 
 goes, while he is continually pouring in draught 
 after draught, and cramming in morsel after morsel, 
 and that in spite of appetite and nature, till he be- 
 comes a burden to the very earth that bears him ; 
 though not so great an one to that, but that (if pos- 
 sible) he is yet a greater to himself ? a 
 
 And now, in the last place, to mention one sinner 
 more, and him a notable, leading sinner indeed, to 
 wit, the rebel. Can any thing have more of trouble, 
 hazard, and anxiety in it, than the course which he 
 takes ? For, in the first place, all the evils of war 
 must unavoidably be endured, as the necessary 
 means and instruments to compass and give suc- 
 cess to his traitorous designs. In which, if it is his 
 lot to be conquered, he must expect that vengeance 
 
 " See above, p. 19, 20.
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 369 
 
 that justly attends a conquered, disarmed villain ; 
 for when such an one is vanquished, his sins are 
 always upon him. But if, on the contrary, he 
 proves victorious, he will yet find misery enough in 
 the distracting cares of settling an ungrounded, odi- 
 ous, detestable interest, so heartily, and so justly ma- 
 ligned, abhorred, and oftentimes plotted against ; so 
 that, in effect, he is still in war, though he has 
 quitted the field. The torment of his suspicion is 
 great, and the courses he must take to quiet his jea- 
 lous, suspicious mind, infinitely troublesome and 
 vexatious. 
 
 But in the mean time, the labour of obedience, 
 loyalty, and subjection, is no more, but for a man 
 honestly and discreetly to sit still, and to enjoy what 
 he has, under the protection of the laws. And when 
 such an one is in his lowest condition, he is yet high 
 and happy enough to despise and pity the most pros- 
 perous rebel in the world : even those famous ones 
 of, forty-one (with all due respect to their flourishing 
 relations be it spoke) not excepted. In the 
 
 Third and last place, the religious person walks 
 upon surer grounds than the irreligious, in respect of 
 the very health of his body. Virtue is a friend and 
 an help to nature ; but it is vice and luxury that de- 
 stroys it, and the diseases of intemperance are the 
 natural product of the sins of intemperance. Where- 
 as, on the other side, a temperate, innocent use of 
 the creature, never casts any one into a fever or a 
 surfeit. Chastity makes no work for a chirurgeon, nor 
 ever ends in rottenness of bones. Sin is the fruitful 
 parent of distempers, and ill lives occasion good phy- 
 sicians. Seldom shall one see in cities, courts, and 
 rich families, (where men live plentifully, and eat and 
 
 VOL. I. B b
 
 370 A SERMON 
 
 drink freely,) that perfect health, that athletic sound- 
 ness and vigour of constitution, which is commonly 
 seen in the country, in poor houses and cottages, 
 where nature is their cook, and necessity their 
 caterer, and where they have no other doctor, but 
 the sun and the fresh air, and that such an one, as 
 never sends them to the apothecary. It has been 
 observed in the earlier ages of the church, that none 
 lived such healthful and long lives, as monks and 
 hermits, who had sequestered themselves from the 
 pleasures and plenties of the world, to a constant 
 ascetic course, of the severest abstinence and devo- 
 tion. 
 
 Nor is excess the only thing by which sin mauls 
 and breaks men in their health, and the comfortable 
 enjoyment of themselves thereby, but many are also 
 brought to a very ill and languishing habit of body, 
 by mere idleness ; and idleness is both itself a great 
 sin, and the cause of many more. The husband- 
 man returns from the field, and from manuring 
 his ground, strong and healthy, because innocent 
 and laborious ; you will find no diet-drinks, no 
 boxes of pills, nor galley-pots, amongst his provi- 
 sions ; no, he neither speaks nor lives French, he is 
 not so much a gentleman, forsooth. His meals are 
 coarse and short, his employment warrantable, his 
 sleep certain and refreshing, neither interrupted 
 with the lashes of a guilty mind, nor the aches of a 
 crazy body. And when old age comes upon him, it 
 comes alone, bringing no other evil with it but itself: 
 but when it comes to wait upon a great and wor- 
 shipful sinner, (who for many years together has had 
 the reputation of eating well and doing ill,) it comes 
 (as it ought to do, to a person of such quality) at-
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 371 
 
 tended with a long train and retinue of rheums, 
 coughs, catarrhs, and dropsies, together with many 
 painful girds and achings, which are at least called 
 the gout. How' does such an one go about, or 
 is carried rather, with his body bending inward, 
 his head shaking, and his eyes always watering (in- 
 stead of weeping) for the sins of his ill-spent youth. 
 In a word, old age seizes upon such a person, like fire 
 upon a rotten house ; it was rotten before, and must 
 have fallen of itself; so that it is no more but one 
 ruin preventing another. 
 
 And thus I have shewn the fruits and effects of 
 sin upon men in this world. But peradventure it 
 will be replied, that there are many sinners who 
 escape all these calamities, and neither labour under 
 any shame or disrepute, any unquietness of condi- 
 tion, or more than ordinary distemper of body, but 
 pass their days with as great a portion of honour, 
 ease, and health, as any other men whatsoever. But 
 to this I answer, 
 
 First, That those sinners who are in such a tem- 
 porally happy condition, owe it not to their sins, but 
 w r holly to their luck, and a benign chance that they 
 are so. Providence often disposes of things by a 
 method beside and above the discourses of man's 
 reason. 
 
 Secondly, That the number of those sinners, who 
 by their sins have been directly plunged into all the 
 forementioned evils, is incomparably greater than the 
 number of those, who, by the singular favour of pro- 
 vidence, have escaped them. And, 
 
 Thirdly and lastly, That notwithstanding all this, 
 sin has yet in itself a natural tendency to bring men 
 under all these evils ; and, if persisted in, will infal- 
 
 B b 2
 
 372 A SERMON 
 
 libly end in them, unless hindered by some unusual 
 accident or other, which no man, acting rationally, 
 can steadily build upon. It is not impossible but a 
 man may practise a sin secretly, to his dying day ; 
 but it is ten thousand to one, if the practice be con- 
 stant, but that some time or other it will be discovered ; 
 and then the effect of sin discovered, must be shame 
 and confusion to the sinner. It is possible also, that 
 a man may be an old healthful epicure ; but I affirm 
 also, that it is next to a miracle, if he be so, and the 
 like is to be said of the several instances of sin, hi- 
 therto produced by us. In short, nothing can step 
 between them and misery in this world, but a very 
 great, strange, and unusual chance, which none will 
 presume of who walks surely. 
 
 And so, I suppose, that religion cannot possibly 
 be enforced (even in the judgment of its best friends 
 and most professed enemies) by any further argu- 
 ments than what have been produced, (how much 
 better soever the said arguments may be managed 
 by abler hands.) For I have shewn and proved, 
 that whether the principles of it be certain, or but 
 probable, nay, though supposed absolutely false ; yet 
 a man is sure of that happiness in the practice, which 
 he cannot be in the neglect of it ; and consequently, 
 that though he were really a speculative atheist, 
 (which there is great reason to believe that none 
 perfectly are,) yet if he would but proceed rationally, 
 that is, if (according to his own measures of reason) 
 he would but love himself, he could not however be 
 a practical atheist; nor live without God in this 
 world, whether or no he expected to be rewarded 
 by him in another. 
 
 And now, to make some application of the fore-
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 373 
 
 going discourse, we may, by an easy but sure deduc- 
 tion, conclude and gather from it these two things : 
 First, That that profane, atheistical, epicurean rab- 
 ble, whom the whole nation so rings of, and who 
 have Lived so much to the defiance of God, the dis- 
 honour of mankind, and the disgrace of the age 
 which they are cast upon, are not indeed (what they 
 are pleased to think and vote themselves) the wisest 
 men in the world ; for in matters of choice, no man 
 can be wise in any course or practice, in which he is 
 not safe too. But can these high assumers, and 
 pretenders to reason, prove themselves so, amidst all 
 those liberties and latitudes of practice which they 
 take ? Can they make it out against the common 
 sense and opinion of all mankind, that there is no 
 such thing as a future estate of misery for such as 
 have lived ill here ? Or can they persuade them- 
 selves, that their own particular reason, denying or 
 doubting of it, ought to be relied upon as a surer 
 argument of truth, than the universal, united rea- 
 son of all the world besides affirming it ? Every 
 fool may believe and pronounce confidently ; but 
 wise men will, in matters of discourse, conclude 
 firmly, and, in matters of practice, act surely : and 
 if these will do so too in the case now before us, 
 they must prove it, not only probable, (which yet 
 they can never do,) but also certain, and past all 
 doubt, that there is no hell, nor place of torment for 
 the wicked ; or at least, that they themselves, not- 
 withstanding all their villainous and licentious prac- 
 tices, are not to be reckoned of that number and 
 character, but, that with a non obstante to all their 
 revels, their profaneness, and scandalous debauche- 
 ries of all sorts, they continue virtuosoes still ; and 
 
 Bb3
 
 374 A SERMON 
 
 are that in truth, which the world in favour and 
 fashion (or rather by an antiphrasis) is pleased to 
 call them. 
 
 In the meantime, it cannot but be matter of just 
 indignation to all knowing and good men, to see a 
 company of lewd, shallow-brained huffs, making 
 atheism and contempt of religion, the sole badge and 
 character of wit, gallantry, and true discretion ; and 
 then over their pots and pipes, claiming and en- 
 grossing all these wholly to themselves ; magisteri- 
 ally censuring the wisdom of all antiquity, scoffing at 
 all piety, and, as it were, new modelling the whole 
 world. When yet, such as have had opportunity to 
 sound these braggers throughly, by having some- 
 times endured the penance of their sottish company, 
 have found them in converse so empty and insipid, 
 in discourse so trifling and contemptible, that it is 
 impossible but that they should give a credit and an 
 honour to whatsoever and whomsoever they speak 
 against : they are indeed such as seem wholly inca- 
 pable of entertaining any design above the present 
 gratification of their palates, and whose very souls 
 and thoughts rise no higher than their throats ; but 
 yet withal, of such a clamorous and provoking im- 
 piety, that they are enough to make the nation like 
 Sodom and Gomorrah in their punishment, as they 
 have already made it too like them in their sins. 
 Certain it is, that blasphemy and irreligion have 
 grown to that daring height here of late years, that 
 had men in any sober civilized heathen nation spoke 
 or done half so much in contempt of their false gods 
 and religion, as some in our days and nation, wearing 
 the name of Christians, have spoke and done against 
 God and Christ, they would have been infallibly
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 375 
 
 burnt at a stake, as monsters and public enemies of 
 society. 
 
 The truth is, the persons here reflected upon are 
 of such a peculiar stamp of impiety, that they seem 
 to be a set of fellows got together, and formed into a 
 kind of diabolical society, for the finding out new ex- 
 periments in vice ; and therefore they laugh at the 
 dull, unexperienced, obsolete sinners of former times ; 
 and scorning to keep themselves within the common, 
 beaten, broad way to hell, by being vicious only at 
 the low rate of example and imitation, they are for 
 searching out other ways and latitudes, and obliging 
 posterity with unheard of inventions and discoveries 
 in sin ; resolving herein to admit of no other mea- 
 sure of good and evil, but the judgment of sensuali- 
 ty, as- those who prepare matters to their hands, 
 allow no other measure of the philosophy and truth 
 of things, but the sole judgment of sense. And 
 these, forsooth, are our great sages, and those who 
 must pass for the only shrewd, thinking, and inqui- 
 sitive men of the age ; and such, as by a long, se- 
 vere, and profound speculation of nature, have 
 redeemed themselves from the pedantry of being 
 conscientious, and living virtuously, and from such 
 old fashioned principles and creeds, as tie up the 
 minds of some narrow-spirited, uncomprehensive 
 zealots, who know not the world, nor understand 
 that he only is the truly wise man, who, per fas et 
 nefas, gets as much as he can. 
 
 But, for all this, let atheists and sensualists satisfy 
 themselves as they are able. The former of which 
 will find, that as long as reason keeps her ground, 
 religion neither can nor will lose hers. And for the 
 sensual epicure, he also will find, that there is a cer- 
 
 B b 4
 
 376 A SERMON 
 
 tain living spark within him, which all the drink he 
 can pour in will never be able to quench or put out ; 
 nor will his rotten abused body have it in its power 
 to convey any putrefying, consuming, rotting qua- 
 lity to the soul : no, there is no drinking, or swear- 
 ing, or ranting, or fluxing a soul out of its immorta- 
 lity. But that must and will survive and abide, in 
 spite of death and the grave ; and live for ever to con- 
 vince such wretches to their eternal woe, that the so 
 much repeated ornament and flourish of their for- 
 mer speeches, (God damn 'em,) was commonly the 
 truest word they spoke, though least believed by 
 them while they spoke it. 
 
 2dly, The other thing deducible from the foregoing 
 particulars, shall be to inform us of the way of at- 
 taining to that excellent privilege, so justly valued by 
 those who have it, and so much talked of by those 
 who have it not ; which is assurance. Assurance is 
 properly that persuasion or confidence, which a man 
 takes up of the pardon of his sins, and his interest 
 in God's favour, upon such grounds and terms as the 
 scripture lays down. But now, since the scripture 
 promises eternal happiness and pardon of sin, upon 
 the sole condition of faith and sincere obedience, it 
 is evident, that he only can plead a title to such a 
 pardon, whose conscience impartially tells him, that 
 he has performed the required condition. And this 
 is the only rational assurance, which a man can with 
 any safety rely or rest himself upon. 
 
 He who in this case would believe surely, must 
 first walk surely ; and to do so, is to walk uprightly. 
 And what that is, we have sufficiently marked out to 
 us in those plain and legible lines of duty, requiring 
 us to demean ourselves to God humbly and devoutly ;
 
 ON PROVERBS X. 9. 377 
 
 to our governors obediently ; and to our neighbours 
 justly ; and to ourselves soberly and temperately. 
 All other pretences being infinitely vain in them- 
 selves, and fatal in their consequences. 
 
 It was indeed the way of many in the late times, 
 to bolster up their crazy, doating consciences, with 
 (I know not what) odd confidences, founded upon in- 
 ward whispers of the Spirit, stories of something 
 which they called conversion and marks of predes- 
 tination : all of them (as they understood them) 
 mere delusions, trifles, and fig-leaves ; and such as 
 would be sure to fall off and leave them naked, be- 
 fore that fiery tribunal, which knows no other way 
 of judging men, but according to their works. 
 
 Obedience and upright walking are such substan- 
 tial, vital parts of religion, as, if they be wanting, 
 can never be made up, or commuted for, by any for- 
 malities of fantastic looks or language. And the 
 great question when we come hereafter to be judged, 
 will not be, How demurely have you looked? or, 
 How boldly have you believed ? With what length 
 have you prayed ? and, With what loudness and ve- 
 hemence have you preached ? But, How holily have 
 you lived ? and, How uprightly have you walked ? 
 For this, and this only (with the merits of Christ's 
 righteousness) will come into account before that 
 great Judge, who will pass sentence upon every man 
 according to what he has done here in the flesh, whe- 
 ther it be good, or whether it be evil ; and there is 
 no respect of persons with him. 
 
 To whom therefore be rendered and ascribed, 
 as is most due, all praise, might, majesty, and 
 dominion, both now and for evermore. Amen.
 
 A SERMON 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY, 
 
 AT CHRIST-CHURCH, OXON, 1664. 
 
 JOHN xv. 15. 
 
 Henceforth I call you not servants ; for the servant knoweth 
 not what his lord doeth : but I have called you friends ; 
 for all things that I have heard of my Father I have 
 made known unto you. 
 
 W E have here an account of Christ's friendship to 
 his disciples ; that is, we have the best of things re- 
 presented, in the greatest of examples. In other 
 men we see the excellency, but in Christ the di- 
 vinity of friendship. By our baptism and church- 
 communion we are made one body with Christ ; 
 but by this we become one soul. 
 
 Love is the greatest of human affections, and 
 friendship is the noblest and most refined improve- 
 ment of love ; a quality of the largest compass. And 
 it is here admirable to observe the ascending grada- 
 tion of the love which Christ bore to his disciples. 
 The strange and superlative greatness of which will 
 appear from those several degrees of kindness, that 
 it has manifested to man, in the several periods of 
 his condition. As, 
 
 1st, If we consider him antecedently to his crea- 
 tion, while he yet lay in the barren womb of nothing, 
 and only in the number of possibilities : and conse-
 
 A SERMON ON JOHN XV. 15. 379 
 
 quently could have nothing to recommend him to 
 Christ's affection, nor shew any thing lovely, but 
 what he should afterwards receive from the stamp 
 of a preventing love. Yet even then did the love of 
 Christ begin to work, and to commence in the first 
 emanations and purposes of goodness towards man ; 
 designing to provide matter for itself to work upon, 
 to create its own object, and, like the sun in the 
 production of some animals, first to give a being, 
 and then to shine upon it. 
 
 2dly, Let us take the love of Christ as directing 
 itself to man actually created and brought into the 
 world ; and so all those glorious endowments of hu- 
 man nature in its original state and innocence, 
 were so many demonstrations of the munificent 
 goodness of him, by whom God first made, as well as 
 afterwards redeemed the world. There was a con- 
 sult of the whole Trinity for the making of man, 
 that so he might shine as a master-piece, not only of 
 the art, but also of the kindness of his Creator ; with 
 a noble and a clear understanding, a rightly disposed 
 will, and a train of affections regular and obsequious, 
 and perfectly conformable to the dictates of that 
 high and divine principle, right reason. So that, 
 upon the whole matter, he stepped forth, not only 
 the work of God's hands, but also the copy of his per- 
 fections ; a kind of image or representation of the 
 Deity in small. Infinity contracted into flesh and 
 blood ; and (as I may so speak) the preludium and 
 first essay towards the incarnation of the divine na- 
 ture. But, 
 
 3dly and lastly, Let us look upon man, not only 
 as created, and brought into the world, with all these 
 great advantages superadded to his being ; but also,
 
 380 A SERMON 
 
 as depraved, and fallen from them ; as an outlaw 
 and a rebel, and one that could plead a title to 
 nothing, but to the highest severities of a sin- 
 revenging justice. Yet even in this estate also, 
 the boundless love of Christ began to have warm 
 thoughts and actings towards so wretched a crea- 
 ture ; at this time not only not amiable, but highly 
 odious. 
 
 While indeed man was yet uncreated and unborn, 
 though he had no positive perfection to present and 
 set him off to Christ's view ; yet he was at least ne- 
 gatively clear : and, like unwritten paper, though it 
 has no draughts to entertain, yet neither has it any 
 blots to offend the eye ; but is white, and innocent, 
 and fair for an after-inscription. But man, once 
 fallen, was nothing but a great blur ; nothing but a 
 total universal pollution, and not to be reformed by 
 any thing under a new creation. 
 
 Yet, see here the ascent and progress of Christ's 
 love. For first, if we consider man, in such a loath- 
 some and provoking condition ; was it not love 
 enough, that he was spared and permitted to enjoy 
 a being? since, not to put a traitor to death is a 
 singular mercy. But then, not only to continue his 
 being, but to adorn it with privilege, and from the 
 number of subjects, to take him into the retinue of 
 servants, this was yet a greater love. For every one 
 that may be fit to be tolerated in a prince's domi- 
 nions, is not therefore fit to be admitted into his fa- 
 mily ; nor is any prince's court to be commensurate 
 to his kingdom. But then further, to advance him 
 from a servant to a friend ; from only living in his 
 house, to lying in his bosom ; this is an instance of 
 favour above the rate of a created goodness, an act
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 381 
 
 for none but the Son of God, who came to do every 
 thing in miracle, to love supernaturally, and to par- 
 don infinitely, and even to lay down the sovereign, 
 while he assumed the saviour. 
 
 The text speaks the winning behaviour and gra- 
 cious condescension of Christ to his disciples, in 
 owning them for his friends, who were more than 
 sufficiently honoured by being his servants. For 
 still these words of his must be understood, not ac- 
 cording to the bare rigour of the letter, but according 
 to the arts and allowances of expression : not as if 
 the relation of friends had actually discharged them 
 from that of servants ; but that of the two relations, 
 Christ was pleased to overlook the meaner, and with- 
 out any, mention of that, to entitle and denominate 
 them Solely from the more honourable. 
 
 For the further illustration of which, we must 
 premise this, as a certain and fundamental truth, 
 that so far as service imports duty and subjection, 
 all created beings, whether men or angels, bear the 
 necessary and essential relation of servants to God, 
 and consequently to Christ, who is God blessed for 
 ever : and this relation is so necessary, that God 
 himself cannot dispense with it, nor discharge a ra- 
 tional creature from it : for although consequen- 
 tially indeed he may do so, by the annihilation of 
 such a creature, and the taking away his being, yet 
 supposing the continuance of his being, God cannot 
 effect, that a creature which has his being from, and 
 his dependance upon, him, should not stand obliged 
 to do him the utmost service that his nature enables 
 him to do. For to suppose the contrary, would be 
 irregular, and opposite to the law of nature, which,
 
 582 A SERMON 
 
 consisting in a fixed unalterable relation of one na- 
 ture to another, is upon that account, even by God 
 himself, indispensable. Forasmuch as having once 
 made a creature, he cannot cause that that creature 
 should not owe a natural relation to his Maker, both 
 of subjection and dependance, (the very essence of a 
 creature importing so much,) to which relation if he 
 behaves himself unsuitably, he goes contrary to his 
 nature, and the laws of it ; which God, the author 
 of nature, cannot warrant without being contrary to 
 himself. From all which it follows, that even in our 
 highest estate of sanctity and privilege, we yet re- 
 tain the unavoidable obligation of Christ's servants ; 
 though still with an advantage as great as the obli- 
 gation, where the service is perfect freedom : so 
 that, with reference to such a Lord, to serve, and to 
 be free, are terms not consistent only, but absolutely 
 equivalent. 
 
 Nevertheless, since the name of servants has of 
 old been reckoned to imply a certain meanness of 
 mind, as well as lowness of condition, and the ill 
 qualities of many who served, have rendered the 
 condition itself not very creditable ; especially in 
 those ages and places of the world, in which the 
 condition of servants was extremely different from 
 what it is now amongst us ; they being generally 
 slaves, and such as were bought and sold for money, 
 and consequently reckoned but amongst the other 
 goods and chattels of their lord or master : it was 
 for this reason that Christ thought fit to wave the 
 appellation of servant here, as, according to the 
 common use of it amongst the Jews, (and at that 
 time most nations besides,) importing these three
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 383 
 
 qualifications, which, being directly contrary to the 
 spirit of Christianity, were by >no means to be al- 
 lowed in any of Christ's disciples. 
 
 1st, The first whereof is that here mentioned in the 
 text ; ;/2. an utter unacquaintance with his mas- 
 ter's designs, in these words ; The servant knows not 
 what his Lord doeth. For seldom does any man 
 of sense make his servant his counsellor, for fear of 
 making him his governor too. A master for the 
 most part keeps his choicest goods locked up from his 
 servant, but much more his mind. A servant is to 
 know nothing but his master's commands ; and in 
 these also, not to know the reason of them. 
 
 Neither is he to stand aloof off from his counsels 
 only, but sometimes from his presence also ; and so 
 far as,jdecency is duty, it is sometimes his. duty to 
 avoid him. But the voice of Christ in his gospel is, 
 Come to me all ye that are heavy laden. The con- 
 dition of a servant staves him off to a distance ; but 
 the gospel speaks nothing but allurement, attractives, 
 and invitation. The magisterial law bids the person 
 under it, Go, and he must go : but the gospel says to 
 every believer, Come, and he cometh. A servant 
 dwells remote from all knowledge of his lord's pur- 
 poses. He lives as a kind of foreigner under the 
 same roof; a domestic, and yet a stranger too. 
 
 2dly, The name of servant imports a slavish and 
 degenerous awe of mind ; as it is in Rom. viii. 5. God 
 has not given us the spirit of bondage again to 
 fear. He who serves, has still the low and ignoble 
 restraints of dread upon his spirit ; which in busi- 
 ness, and even in the midst of action, cramps and 
 ties up his activity. He fears his master's anger, 
 but designs not his favour. Quicken me, says Da-
 
 384 A SERMON 
 
 vid, with thy free spirit. It is the freedom of the 
 spirit, that gives worth and life to the performance. 
 But a servant commonly is less free in mind than in 
 condition ; his very will seems to be in bonds and 
 shackles, and desire itself under a kind of durance 
 and captivity. In all that a servant does, he is 
 scarce a voluntary agent, but when he serves him- 
 self: all his services otherwise, not flowing naturally 
 from propensity and inclination, but being drawn 
 and forced from him by terror and coaction. In 
 any work he is put to, let the master withdraw his 
 eye, and he will quickly take off his hand. 
 
 3dly, The appellation of servant imports a merce- 
 nary temper and disposition ; and denotes such an 
 one as makes his reward both the sole motive and 
 measure of his obedience. He neither loves the 
 thing commanded, nor the person who commands it, 
 but is wholly and only intent upon his own emolu- 
 ment. All kindnesses done him, and all that is 
 given him, over and above what is strictly just and 
 his due, makes him rather worse than better. And 
 this is an observation that never fails, where any 
 one has so much bounty and so little wit, as to make 
 the experiment. For a servant rarely or never as- 
 cribes what he receives to the mere liberality and 
 generosity of the donor, but to his own worth and 
 merit, and to the need which he supposes there is of 
 him ; which opinion alone will be sure .to make any 
 one of a mean servile spirit, insolent and intole- 
 rable. 
 
 And thus I have shewn what the qualities of a 
 servant usually are, (or at least were in that country 
 where our Saviour lived and conversed, when he 
 spake these words,) which, no doubt, were the cause
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 385 
 
 why he would not treat his disciples (whom he de- 
 signed to be of a quite contrary disposition) with this 
 appellation. 
 
 Come we therefore now, in the next place, to 
 shew what is included in that great character and 
 privilege which he was pleased to vouchsafe both to 
 them, and to all believers, in calling and accounting 
 them his friends. It includes in it, I conceive, 
 these following things : 
 
 1. Freedom of access. House, and heart, and all, 
 are open for the reception of a friend. The entrance 
 is not beset with solemn excuses and lingering de- 
 lays ; but the passage is easy, and free from all ob- 
 struction, and not only admits, but even invites the 
 comer. How different, for the most part, is the 
 same man from himself, as he sustains the person of 
 a magistrate, and as he sustains that of a friend ! As 
 a magistrate or great officer, he locks himself up 
 from all approaches by the multiplied formalities of 
 attendance, by the distance of ceremony and gran- 
 deur ; so many hungry officers to be passed through, 
 so many thresholds to be saluted, so many days to 
 be spent in waiting for an opportunity of, perhaps, 
 but half an hour's converse. 
 
 But when he is to be entertained, whose friend- 
 ship, not whose business, demands an entrance, 
 those formalities presently disappear, all impedi- 
 ments vanish, and the rigours of the magistrate sub- 
 mit to the endearments of a friend. He opens and 
 yields himself to the man of business with difficulty 
 and reluctancy, but offers himself to the visits of a 
 friend with facility, and all the meeting readiness of 
 appetite and desire. The reception of one is as dif- 
 ferent from the admission of the other, as when the 
 VOL. i. c c
 
 386 A SERMON 
 
 earth falls open under the incisions of the plough, 
 and when it gapes and greedily opens itself to drink 
 in the dew of heaven, or the refreshments of a 
 shower : or there is as much difference between 
 them, as whefc a man reaches out his arms to take 
 up a burden, and when he reaches them out to em- 
 brace. 
 
 It is confessed, that the vast distance that sin 
 had put between the offending creature and the of- 
 fended Creator, required the help of some great 
 umpire and intercessor, to open him a new way of 
 access to God ; and this Christ did for us as Media- 
 tor. But we read of no mediator to bring us to 
 Christ ; for though, being God by nature, he dwells 
 in the height of majesty, and the inaccessible glories 
 of a Deity ; yet to keep off all strangeness between 
 himself and the sons of men, he has condescended 
 to a cognation and consanguinity with us, he has 
 clothed himself with flesh and blood, that so he 
 might subdue his glories to a possibility of human 
 converse. And therefore he that denies himself an 
 immediate access to Christ, affronts him in the great 
 relation of a friend, and as opening himself both to 
 our persons and to our wants, with the greatest ten- 
 derness and the freest invitation. There is none 
 who acts a friend by a deputy, or can be familiar by 
 proxy. 
 
 2. The second privilege of friendship is a fa- 
 vourable construction of all passages between friends, 
 that are not of so high and so malign a nature as to 
 dissolve the relation. Love covers a multitude of 
 sins, says the apostle, 1 Pet. iv. 8. When a scar 
 cannot be taken away, the-next kind office is to hide 
 it. Love is never so blind, as when it is to spy
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 387 
 
 faults. It is like the painter, who being to draw 
 the picture of a friend having a blemish in one eye, 
 would picture only the other side of his face. It is 
 a noble and a great thing to cover the blemishes 
 and to excuse the failings of a friend ; to draw a 
 curtain before his stains, and to display his perfec- 
 tions ; to bury his weaknesses in silence, but to pro- 
 claim his virtues upon the house-top. It is an imi- 
 tation of the charities of heaven, which, when the 
 creature lies prostrate in the weakness of sleep and 
 weariness, spreads the covering of night and dark- 
 ness over it, to conceal it in that condition ; but as 
 soon as our spirits are refreshed, and nature returns 
 to its morning vigour, God then bids the sun rise, 
 and the, day shine upon us, both to advance and to 
 shew that activity. 
 
 It is the ennobling office Of the understanding, to 
 correct the fallacious and mistaken reports of sense, 
 and to assure us that the staff in the water is 
 straight, though our eye would tell us it is crooked. 
 So it is the excellency of friendship to rectify, or at 
 least to qualify, the malignity of those surmises, that 
 would misrepresent a friend, and traduce him in our 
 thoughts. Am I told that my friend has done me 
 an injury, or that he has committed any undecent 
 action ? Why, the first debt that I both owe to his 
 friendship, and that he may challenge from mine, is 
 rather to question the truth of the report, than pre- 
 sently to believe my friend unworthy. Or, if matter 
 of fact breaks out and blazes with too great an evi- 
 dence to be denied, or so much as doubted of, why 
 still there are other lenitives that friendship will 
 apply, before it will be brought to the decretory 
 rigours of a condemning sentence. A friend will be 
 
 c c 2
 
 398 A SERMON 
 
 sure to act the part of an advocate, before he will 
 assume that of a judge. And there are few ac- 
 tions so ill (unless they are of a very deep and black 
 tincture indeed) but will admit of some extenuation 
 at least from those common topics of human frailty ; 
 such as are ignorance or inadvertency, passion or 
 surprise, company or solicitation ; with many other 
 such things, which may go a great way towards an 
 excusing of the agent, though they cannot abso- 
 lutely justify the action. All which apologies for, 
 and alleviations of, faults, though they are the heights 
 of humanity, yet they are not the favours, but the 
 duties of friendship. Charity itself commands us, 
 wlrere we know no ill, to think well of all. But 
 friendship, that always goes a pitch higher, gives a 
 man a peculiar right and claim to the good opinion 
 of his friend. And if we justly look upon a prone- 
 ness to find faults, as a very ill and a mean thing, 
 we are to remember, that a proneness to believe 
 them is next to it. 
 
 We have seen here the demeanour of friendship 
 between man and man : but how is it, think we 
 now, between Christ and the soul that depends 
 upon him ? Is he any ways short in these offices of 
 tenderness and mitigation? No, assuredly, but by 
 infinite degrees superior. For where our heart does 
 but relent, his melts ; where our eye pities, his 
 bowels yearn. How many frowardnesses of ours 
 does he smother, how many indignities does he pass 
 by, and how many affronts does he put up at our 
 hands, because his love is invincible, and his friend- 
 ship unchangeable ? He rates every action, every 
 sinful infirmity, with the allowances of mercy ; and 
 never weighs the sin, but together with it he weighs
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 389 
 
 the force of the inducement ; how much of it is to 
 be attributed to choice, how much to the violence of 
 the temptation, to the stratagem of the occasion, and 
 the yielding frailties of weak nature. 
 
 Should we try men at that rate that we try 
 Christ, we should quickly find, that the largest stock 
 of human friendship would be too little for us to 
 spend long upon. But his compassion follows us 
 with an infinite supply. He is God in his friend- 
 ship, as well as in his nature, and therefore we sin- 
 ful creatures are not took upon advantages, nor con- 
 sumed in our provocations. 
 
 See this exemplified in his behaviour to his disci- 
 ples, while he was yet upon earth : how ready was 
 he to excuse and cover their infirmities ! At the last 
 and bitterest scene of his life, when he was so full of 
 agony and horror upon the approach of a dismal 
 death, and so had most need of the refreshments of 
 society, and the friendly assistances of his disciples ; 
 and when also he desired no more of them, but only 
 for a while to sit up and pray with him : yet they, 
 like persons wholly untouched with his agonies, and 
 unmoved with his passionate entreaties, forget both 
 his and their own cares, and securely sleep away all 
 concern for him or themselves either. Now, what 
 a fierce and sarcastic reprehension may we imagine 
 this would have drawn from the friendships of the 
 world, that act but to an human pitch ! and yet 
 what a gentle one did it receive from Christ ! In 
 Matt. xxvi. 40. no more than, What, could you not 
 watch with me for one hour? And when from this 
 admonition they took only occasion to redouble their 
 fault, and to sleep again, so that upon a second and 
 third admonition they had nothing to plead for their 
 
 cc 3
 
 390 A SERMON 
 
 unseasonable drowsiness, yet then Christ, who was 
 the only person concerned to have resented and ag- 
 gravated this their imkindness, finds an extenuation 
 for it, when they themselves could not. The spirit 
 indeed is willing, says he, but iliejiesh is weak. As 
 if he had said, I know your hearts, and am satisfied 
 of your affection, and therefore accept your will, and 
 compassionate your weakness. So benign, so gra- 
 cious is the friendship of Christ, so answerable to our 
 wants, so suitable to our frailties. Happy that man, 
 who has a friend to point out to him the perfection 
 of duty, and yet to pardon him in the lapses of his 
 infirmity ! 
 
 3. The third privilege of friendship is a sympathy 
 in joy and grief. When a man shah* have diffused 
 his life, his self, and his whole concernments so far, 
 that he can weep his sorrows with another's eyes ; 
 when he has another heart besides his own, both to 
 share and to support his griefs ; and when, if his joys 
 overflow, he can treasure up the overplus and redun- 
 dancy of them in another breast ; so that he can, as 
 it were, shake off the solitude of a single nature, by 
 dwelling in two bodies at once, and living by an- 
 other's breath ; this surely is the height, the very 
 spirit and perfection of all human felicities. 
 
 It is a true and happy observation of that great 
 philosopher the lord Verulam, that this is the benefit 
 of communication of our minds to others, that sor- 
 rows by being communicated grow less, and joys 
 greater. And indeed sorrow, like a stream, loses 
 itself in many channels ; and joy, like a ray of the 
 sun, reflects with a greater ardour and quickness, 
 when it rebounds upon a man from the breast of his 
 friend.
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 391 
 
 Now friendship is the only scene, upon which the 
 glorious truth of this great proposition can be fully 
 acted and drawn forth. Which indeed is a sum- 
 mary description of the sweets of friendship : and 
 the whole life of a friend, in the several parts and in- 
 stances of it, is only a more diffuse comment upon, 
 and a plainer explication of, this divine aphorism. 
 Friendship never restrains a pleasure to a single 
 fruition. But such is the royal nature of this qua- 
 lity, that it still expresses itself in the style of kings, 
 as we do this or that ; and this is our happiness ; 
 and such or such a thing" belongs to us ; when the 
 immediate possession of it is vested only in one No- 
 thing certainly in nature can so peculiarly gratify 
 the noble dispositions of humanity, as for one man 
 to see^ another so much himself, as to sigh his griefs, 
 and groan his pains, to sing his joys, and, as it were, 
 to do and feel every thing by sympathy and secret 
 inexpressible communications. Thus it is upon an 
 human account. 
 
 Let us now see how Christ sustains and makes 
 good this generous quality of a friend. And this we 
 shall find fully set forth to us in Heb. iv. 15. where 
 he is said to be a merciful high-priest^ touched with 
 the feeling of our infirmities ; and that in all our 
 ajfflictions he is afflicted, Isa. Ixiii. 9- And, no 
 doubt, with the same bowels and meltings of affec- 
 tion, with which any tender mother hears and be- 
 moans the groanings of her sick child, does Christ 
 hear and sympathize with the spiritual agonies of a 
 soul under desertion, or the pressures of some sting- 
 ing affliction. It is enough that he understands the 
 exact measures of our strengths and weaknesses ; 
 that he knows our frame ; as it is in Psalm ciii. 14. 
 
 c c 4
 
 392 A SERMON 
 
 and that he does not only know, but emphatically, 
 that he remembers also, that we are but dust. Ob- 
 serve that signal passage of his loving commisera- 
 tion ; as soon as he had risen from the dead, and 
 met Mary Magdalen, in Mark xvi. 7- he sends this 
 message of his resurrection by her ; Go, tell my dis- 
 ciples and Peter, that I am risen. What, was 
 not Peter one of his disciples ? Why then is he men- 
 tioned particularly and by himself, as if he were ex- 
 empted out of their number ? Why, we know into 
 what a plunge he had newly cast himself by deny- 
 ing his Master : upon occasion of which he was now 
 struggling with all the perplexities and horrors of 
 mind imaginable, lest Christ might in like manner 
 deny and disown him before his Father, and so repay 
 one denial with another. Hereupon Christ particu- 
 larly applies the comforts of his resurrection to him, 
 as if he had said, Tell all my disciples, but be sure 
 especially to tell poor Peter, that I am risen from 
 the dead; and that, notwithstanding his denial of 
 me, the benefits of my resurrection belong to him, as 
 much as to any of the rest. This is the privilege of 
 the saints, to have a companion and a supporter in 
 all their miseries, in all the doubtful turnings and 
 doleful passages of their lives. In sum, this happi- 
 ness does Christ vouchsafe to all his, that as a Sa- 
 viour he once suffered for them, and that as a friend 
 he always suffers with them. 
 
 4. The fourth privilege of friendship is that which 
 is here specified in the text, a communication of se- 
 crets. A bosom secret and a bosom friend are 
 usually put together. And this from Christ to the 
 soul, is not only kindness, but also honour and ad- 
 vancement ; it is for him to vouch it one of his privy
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 393 
 
 council. Nothing under a jewel is taken into the 
 cabinet. A secret is the apple of our eye ; it will 
 bear no touch nor approach ; we use to cover no- 
 thing but what we account a rarity. And there- 
 fore to communicate a secret to any one, is to exalt 
 him to one of the royalties of heaven. For none 
 knows the secrets of a man's mind, but his God, his 
 conscience, and his friend. Neither would any pin- 
 dent man let such a thing go out of his own heart, 
 had he not another heart besides his own to re- 
 ceive it. 
 
 Now it was of old a privilege, with which God 
 was pleased to honour such as served him at the 
 rate of an extraordinary obedience, thus to admit 
 them to a knowledge of many of his great counsels 
 locked: up from the rest of the world. When God 
 had designed the destruction of Sodom, the scripture 
 represents him as unable to conceal that great pur- 
 pose from Abraham, whom he always treated as his 
 friend and acquaintance ; that is, not only with love, 
 but also with intimacy and familiarity, in Gen. xviii. 
 17. And the Lord said, Shall I hide from Abra- 
 ham the thing that I go about to do ? He thought 
 it a violation of the rights of friendship to reserve 
 his design wholly to himself. And St. James tells 
 us in James ii. 23. that Abraham was called the 
 friend of God ; and therefore had a kind of claim 
 to the knowledge of his secrets, and the participa- 
 tion of his counsels. Also in Exodus xxxiii. 11. it 
 is said of God, that he spoke to Moses as a man 
 speaketh to his friend. And that, not only for the 
 familiarity and facility of address, but also for the 
 peculiar communications of his mind. Moses was 
 with him in the retirements of the mount, received
 
 394 A SERMON 
 
 there his dictates and his private instructions, as his 
 deputy and viceroy ; and when the multitude and 
 congregation of Israel were thundered away, and 
 kept off from any approach to it, he was honoured 
 with an intimate and immediate admission. The 
 priests indeed were taken into a near attendance 
 upon God ; but still there was a degree of a nearer 
 converse, and the interest of a friend was above the 
 privileges of the highest servant. In Exod. xix. 24. 
 Thou shalt come up, says God, thou, and Aaron 
 with thee : but let not the priests and the people 
 break through to come up unto the Lord., lest the 
 Lord break forth upon them. And if we proceed 
 further, we shall still find a continuation of the same 
 privilege, Psalm xxv. 14. The secret of the Lord 
 is with them that fear him, Nothing is to lie con- 
 cealed from the other self. To be a friend, and to 
 be conscious, are terms equivalent. 
 
 Now if God maintained such intimacies with 
 "those whom he loved under the law, (which was a 
 dispensation of greater distance,) we may be sure 
 that under the gospel, (the very nature of which im- 
 ports condescension and compliance,) there must 
 needs be the same, with much greater advantage. 
 And therefore when God had manifested himself in 
 the flesh, how sacredly did he preserve this privi- 
 lege ! How freely did Christ unbosom himself to his 
 disciples, in Luke viii. 10. Unto you, says he, it is 
 given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of 
 God : but unto others in parables ; that seeing they 
 might not see : such shall be permitted to cast an eye 
 into the ark, and to look into the very holy of ho- 
 lies. And again in Matt. xiii. 17. Many prophets 
 and righteous men have desired to see those things
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 395 
 
 which ye see, and have not seen them ; and to hear 
 those things which ye hear, and have not heard 
 them. Neither did he treat them with these pecu- 
 liarities of favour in the extraordinary discoveries of 
 the gospel only, but also of those incommunicable 
 revelations of the divine love, in reference to their 
 own personal interest in it. In Rev. ii. 17. To 
 him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden 
 manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the 
 stone a new name written, which no man knoweth, 
 saving he that receiveth it. Assurance is a rarity 
 covered from the inspection of the world. A secret 
 that none can know but God, and the person that is 
 blessed with it. It is writ in a private character, 
 not to be read nor understood but by the conscience, 
 to which the Spirit of God has vouchsafed to deci- 
 pher it. Every believer lives upon an inward pro- 
 vision of comfort, that the world is a stranger to. 
 
 5. The fifth advantage of friendship is counsel and 
 advice. A man will sometimes need not only an- 
 other heart, but also another head besides his own. 
 In solitude there is not only discomfort, but weak- 
 ness also. And that saying of the wise man, Eccles. 
 iv. 10. Woe to him that is alone, is verified upon 
 none so much as upon the friendless person : when 
 a man shall be perplexed with knots and problems 
 of business and contrary affairs, where the deter- 
 mination is dubious, and both parts of the contrariety 
 seem equally weighty, so that, which Avay soever the 
 choice determines, a man is sure to venture a great 
 concern : how happy then is it to fetch in aid from 
 another person, whose judgment may be greater 
 than my own, and whose concernment is sure not to 
 be less ! There are some passages of a man's affairs
 
 396 A SERMON 
 
 that would quite break a single understanding. So 
 many intricacies, so many labyrinths, are there in 
 them, that the succours of reason fail, the very force 
 and spirit of it being lost in an actual intention scat- 
 tered upon several clashing objects at once ; in 
 which case, the interposal of a friend is like the sup- 
 ply of a fresh party to a besieged yielding city. 
 
 Now Christ is not failing in this office of a friend 
 also. For in that illustrious prediction of Esay ix. 6. 
 amongst the rest of his great titles, he is called 
 mighty Counsellor. And his counsel is not only 
 sure, but also free. It is not under the gospel of 
 Christ, as under some laws of men, where you must 
 be forced to buy your counsel, and oftentimes pay 
 dear for bad advice. No, he is a light to those that 
 sit in darkness. And no man fees the sun, no man 
 purchases the light, nor errs, if he walks by it. The 
 only price that Christ sets upon his counsel is, that 
 we follow it, and that we do that which is best for 
 us to do. He is not only light for us to see by, but 
 also light for us to see with. He is understanding 
 to the ignorant, and eyes to the blind : and whoso- 
 ever has both a faithful and a discreet friend, to 
 guide him in the dark, slippery, and dangerous pas- 
 sages of his life, may carry his eyes in another man's 
 head, and yet see never the worse. In 1 Cor. i. 30. 
 the Apostle tells us, that Christ is made to us not 
 only sanctification and redemption, but wisdom too : 
 we are his members ; and it is but natural, that all 
 the members of the body should be guided by the 
 wisdom of the head. 
 
 And therefore let every believer comfort himself 
 in this high privilege, that in the great things that 
 concern his eternal peace, he is not left to stand or
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 397 
 
 fall by the uncertain directions of his own judgment. 
 No, sad were his condition, if he should be so ; when 
 he is to encounter an enemy made up of wiles and 
 stratagems, an old serpent, and a long-experienced 
 deceiver, and successful at the trade for some thou- 
 sands of years. 
 
 The inequality of the match between such an 
 one and the subtilest of us, would quickly appear 
 by a fatal circumvention : there must be a wisdom 
 from above, to overreach and master this hellish 
 wisdom from beneath. And this every sanctified 
 person is sure of in his great friend, in whom all 
 the treasures of wisdom dwell-, treasures that flow 
 out, and are imparted freely, both in direction and 
 assistance, to all that belong to him. He never 
 leaves^any of his, perplexed, amazed, or bewildered, 
 where the welfare of their souls requires a better 
 judgment than their own, either to guide them in 
 their duty, or to disentangle them from a temptation. 
 Whosoever has Christ for his friend, shall be sure of 
 counsel ; and whosoever is his own friend, will be 
 sure to obey it. 
 
 6. The last and crowning privilege, or rather pro- 
 perty, of friendship is constancy. He only is a friend, 
 whose friendship lives as long as himself, and who 
 ceases to love and to breathe at the same instant. Not 
 that I yet state constancy in such an absurd, sense- 
 less, and irrational continuance in friendship, as no 
 injuries or provocations whatsoever can break off. 
 For there are some injuries that extinguish the very 
 relation between friends. In which case, a man 
 ceases to be a friend, not from any inconstancy in 
 his friendship, but from defect of an object for his 
 friendship to exert itself upon. It is one thing for
 
 398 A SERMON 
 
 a father to cease to be a father by casting off his 
 son ; and another for him to cease to be so, by the 
 death of his son. In this, the relation is at an end 
 for want of a correlate : so in friendship there are 
 some passages of that high and hostile nature, that 
 they really and properly constitute and denominate 
 the person guilty of them, an enemy ; and if so, how 
 can the other person possibly continue a friend, since 
 friendship essentially requires that it be between two 
 at least ; and there can be no friendship, where there 
 are not two friends ? 
 
 Nobody is bound to look upon his backbiter or 
 his underminer, his betrayer or his oppressor, as his 
 friend. Nor indeed is it possible that he should do 
 so, unless he could alter the constitution and order 
 of things, and establish a new nature and a new mo- 
 rality in the world. For to remain unsensible of 
 such provocations, is not constancy, but apathy. 
 And therefore they ^discharge the person so treated 
 from the proper obligations of a friend ; though 
 Christianity, I confess, binds him to the duties of a 
 neighbour. 
 
 But to give you the true nature and measures of 
 constancy; it is such a stability and firmness of 
 friendship, as overlooks and passes by all those lesser 
 failures of kindness and respect, that, partly through 
 passion, partly through indiscretion, and such other 
 frailties incident to human nature, a man may be 
 sometimes guilty of, and yet still retain the same 
 habitual good-will and prevailing propensity of mind 
 to his friend, that he had before. And whose friend- 
 ship soever is of that strength and duration as to 
 stand its ground against, and remain unshaken by, 
 such assaults, (which yet are strong enough to
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 399 
 
 shake down and annihilate the friendship of little 
 puny minds,) such an one, I say, has reached all the 
 true measures of constancy: his friendship is of a 
 noble make and a lasting consistency; it resembles 
 marble, and deserves to be wrote upon it. 
 
 But how few tempers in the world are of that 
 magnanimous frame, as to reach the heights of so 
 great a virtue : many offer at the effects of friend- 
 ship, but they do not last ; they are promising in the 
 beginning, but they fail, and jade, and tire in the 
 prosecution. For most people in the world are acted 
 by levity and humour, by strange and irrational 
 changes. And how often may we meet with those 
 who are one while courteous, civil, and obliging, (at 
 least to their proportion,) but within a small time 
 after -are so supercilious, sharp, troublesome, fierce, 
 and exceptions, that they are not only short of the 
 true character of friendship, but become the very 
 sores and burdens of society ! Such low, such worth- 
 less dispositions, how easily are they discovered, how 
 justly are they despised ! But now, that we may 
 pass from one contrary to another, Christ, who is the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and for ever in his being, is 
 so also in his affection. He is not of the number or 
 nature of those pitiful, mean pretenders to friend- 
 ship, who perhaps wilF love and smile upon you one 
 day, and not so much as know you the next : many 
 of which sort there are in the world, who are not so 
 much courted outwardly, but that inwardly they are 
 detested much more. 
 
 Friendship is a kind of covenant ; and most cove- 
 nants run upon mutual terms and conditions. And 
 therefore, so long as we are exact in fulfilling the 
 condition on our parts, (I mean, exact according to
 
 400 A SERMON 
 
 the measures of sincerity, though not of perfection, 
 we may be sure, that Christ will not fail in the least 
 iota to fulfil every thing on his. The favour of re- 
 lations, patrons, and princes, is uncertain, ticklish, 
 and variable; and the friendship which they take 
 up, upon the accounts of judgment and merit, they 
 most times lay down out of humour. But the friend- 
 ship of Christ has none of these weaknesses, no such 
 hollowness or unsoundness in it. For neither prin- 
 cipalities nor powers, things present, nor things to 
 come, no, nor all the rage and malice of hell, shall be 
 able to pluck the meanest of Christ's friends out of 
 his bosom : for, whom he loves, he loves to the end. 
 
 Now, from the particulars hitherto discoursed of, 
 we may infer and learn these two things : 1. The ex- 
 cellency and value of friendship. Christ the Son of 
 the most high God, the second person in the glorious 
 Trinity, took upon him our nature, that he might 
 give a great instance and example of this virtue ; and 
 condescended to be a man, only that he might be 
 a friend. Our Creator, our Lord and King, he was 
 before ; but he would needs come down from all 
 this, and in a sort become our equal, that he might 
 partake of that noble quab'ty that is properly be- 
 tween equals. Christ took not upon him flesh and 
 blood, that he might conquer and rule nations, lead 
 armies, or possess palaces ; but that he might have 
 the relenting, the tenderness, and the compassions 
 of human nature, which render it properly capable 
 of friendship ; and, in a word, that he might have 
 our heart, and we have his. God himself sets 
 friendship above all considerations of kindred or 
 consanguinity, as the greatest ground and argu- 
 ment of mutual endearment, in Deut. xv. 6. If thy
 
 ON JOHN XV- 15. 401 
 
 brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or 
 thy daughter, or the wife of thy bosom, or thy 
 friend, which is as thine own soul, entice thee to go 
 and serve other gods, thou shalt not consent unto 
 him. The emphasis of the expression is very re- 
 markable ; it being a gradation or ascent, by several 
 degrees of dearness, to that which is the highest of 
 all. Neither wife nor brother, son nor daughter, 
 though the nearest in cognation, are allowed to stand 
 in competition with a friend ; who, if he fully an- 
 swers the duties of that great relation, is indeed bet- 
 ter and more valuable than all of them put together, 
 and may serve instead of them ; so that he who has 
 a firm, a worthy, and sincere friend, may want all 
 the rest, without missing them. That which lies in 
 a man'* bosom should be dear to him, but that which 
 lies within his heart ought to be much dearer. 
 
 2. In the next place, we learn from hence the high 
 advantage of becoming truly pious and religious. 
 When we have said and done all, it is only the true 
 Christian and the religious person, who is or can be 
 sure of a friend ; sure of obtaining, sure of keeping 
 him. But as for the friendship of the world ; when 
 a man shall have done all that he can to make one 
 his friend, employed the utmost of his wit and labour, 
 beaten his brains, and emptied his purse, to create 
 an endearment between him and the person whose 
 friendship he desires, he may, in the end, upon all 
 these endeavours and attempts, be forced to write 
 vanity and frustration : for, by them all, he may at 
 last be no more able to get into the other's heart, 
 than he is to thrust his hand into a pillar of brass. 
 The man's affection, amidst all these kindnesses 
 done him, remaining wholly unconcerned and im- 
 
 VOL. I. D d
 
 402 A SERMON 
 
 pregnable ; just like a rock, which, being plied con- 
 tinually by the waves, still throws them back again 
 into the bosom of the sea that sent them, but is not 
 at all moved by any of them. 
 
 People at first, while they are young and raw, and 
 soft-natured, are apt to think it an easy thing to 
 gain love, and reckon their own friendship a sure 
 price of another man's. But when experience shall 
 have once opened their eyes, and shewed them the 
 hardness of most hearts, the hollowness of others, 
 and the baseness and ingratitude of almost all, they 
 will then find that a friend is the gift of God ; and 
 that he only, who made hearts, can unite them. For 
 it is he who creates those sympathies and suitable- 
 nesses of nature, that are the foundation of all true 
 friendship, and then by his providence brings persons 
 so affected together. 
 
 It is an expression frequent in scripture, but infi- 
 nitely more significant than at first it is usually ob- 
 served to be ; namely, that God gave such or such 
 a person grace or favour in another's eyes. As for 
 instance, in Gen. xxxix. 21. it is said of Joseph, 
 that the Lord was with kirn, and gave him favour 
 in the sight of the keeper of the prison. Still it is 
 an invisible hand from heaven that ties this knot, 
 and mingles hearts and souls, by strange, secret, and 
 unaccountable conjunctions. 
 
 That heart shall surrender itself and its friendship 
 to one man, at first view, which another has in vain 
 been laying siege to for many years, by all the re- 
 peated acts of kindness imaginable. 
 
 Nay, so far is friendship from being of any human 
 production, that, unless nature be predisposed to it 
 by its own propensity or inclination, no arts of obli-
 
 ON JOHN XV. 15. 403 
 
 gation shall be able to abate the secret hatreds and 
 hostilities of some persons towards others. No 
 friendly offices, no addresses, no benefits whatsoever, 
 shall ever alter or allay that diabolical rancour that 
 frets and ferments in some hellish breasts, but that 
 upon all occasions it will foam out at its foul mouth 
 in slander and invective, and sometimes bite too in 
 a shrewd turn or a secret blow. This is true and un- 
 deniable upon frequent experience ; and happy those 
 who can learn it at the cost of other men's. 
 
 But now, on the contrary, he who will give up his 
 name to Christ in faith unfeigned, and a sincere 
 obedience to all his righteous laws, shall be sure to 
 find love for love, and friendship for friendship. 
 The success is certain and infallible ; and none ever 
 yet miscarried in the attempt. For Christ freely 
 offers his friendship to all, and sets no other rate 
 upon so vast a purchase, but only that we would 
 suffer him to be our friend. Thou perhaps spendest 
 thy precious time in waiting upon such a great one, 
 and thy estate in presenting him, and probably, after 
 all, hast no other reward, but sometimes to be smiled 
 upon, and always to be smiled at ; and when thy 
 greatest and most pressing occasions shall call for 
 succour and relief, then to be deserted and cast off, 
 and not known. 
 
 Now, I say, turn the stream of thy endeavours 
 another way, and bestow but half that hearty, sedu- 
 lous attendance upon thy Saviour in the duties of 
 prayer and mortification, and be at half that expense 
 in charitable works, by relieving Christ in his poor 
 members ; and, in a word, study as much to please 
 him who died for thee, as thou dost to court and hu- 
 mour thy great patron, who cares not for thee, and 
 
 D d 2
 
 404 A SERMON ON JOHN XV. 15. 
 
 thou shalt make him thy friend for ever ; a friend 
 who shall own thee in thy lowest condition, speak 
 comfort to thee in all thy sorrows, counsel thee in all 
 thy doubts, answer all thy wants, and, in a word, 
 never leave thee, nor forsake thee. But when all 
 the hopes that thou hast raised upon the promises or 
 supposed kindnesses of the fastidious and fallacious 
 great ones of the world, shall fail, and upbraid thee 
 to thy face, he shall then take thee into his bosom, 
 embrace, cherish, and support thee, and, as the 
 Psalmist expresses it, he shall guide thee with his 
 counsel here, and afterwards receive thee into 
 glory. 
 
 To which God of his mercy vouchsafe to bring us 
 all; to whom be rendered and ascribed, &c. 
 Amen.
 
 A Discourse against long extemporary 
 Prayers : 
 
 IN 
 
 A SERMON 
 
 ON 
 
 ECCLESIASTES V. 2. , 
 
 Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thine heart be 
 hastyrto utter any thing before God : for God is in hea- 
 ven, and thou upon earth : therefore let thy words be few. 
 
 WE have here the wisest of men instructing us 
 how to behave ourselves before God in his own 
 house ; and particularly when we address to him in 
 the most important of all duties, which is prayer. 
 Solomon had the honour to be spoken to by God 
 himself, and therefore, in all likelihood, none more 
 fit to teach us how to speak to God. A great privi- 
 lege certainly for dust and ashes to be admitted to ; 
 and therefore it will concern us to manage it so, 
 that in these our approaches to the King of heaven, 
 his goodness may not cause us to forget his great- 
 ness, nor (as it is but too usual for subjects to use 
 privilege against prerogative) his honour suffer by 
 his condescension. 
 
 In the words we have these three things observ- 
 able. 
 
 1st, That whosoever appears in the house of God, 
 Dd 3
 
 406 A SERMON 
 
 and particularly in the way of prayer, ought to 
 reckon himself, in a more especial manner, placed in 
 the sight and presence of God. 
 
 2dly, That the vast and infinite distance between 
 God and him, ought to create in him all imaginable 
 awe and reverence in such his addresses to God. 
 
 3dly and lastly, That this reverence required of 
 him, is to consist in a serious preparation of his 
 thoughts, and a sober government of his expressions : 
 neither is his mouth to be rash, nor his heart to be 
 hasty, in uttering any thing before God. 
 
 These things are evidently contained in the words, 
 and do as evidently contain the whole sense of 
 them. But I shall gather them all into this one 
 proposition ; namely, 
 
 That premeditation of thought, and brevity of ex- 
 pression, are the great ingredients of that reverence 
 that is required to a pious, acceptable, and devout 
 prayer. 
 
 For the better handling of which, we will, in the 
 first place, consider how, and by what way it is, 
 that prayer works upon, or prevails with, God, for 
 the obtaining of the things we pray for. Concern- 
 ing which, I shall lay down this general rule, That 
 the way, by which prayer prevails with God, is 
 wholly different from that, by which it prevails with 
 men. And to give you this more particularly. 
 
 1. First of all, it prevails not with God by way of 
 information or notification of the thing to him, which 
 we desire of him. With men indeed this is the 
 common, and with wise men the chief, and should 
 be the only way of obtaining what we ask of them. 
 We represent and lay before them our wants and 
 indigences, and the misery of our condition. Which
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 407 
 
 being made known to them, the quality and condi- 
 tion of the thing asked for, and of the persons who 
 ask it, induces them to give that to us, and to do 
 that for us, which we desire and petition for: but 
 it is not so in our addresses to God ; for he knows 
 our wants and our conditions better than we our- 
 selves : he is beforehand with all our prayers, Matt, 
 vi. 8. Your Father knoweth what things ye have 
 need of before ye ask him : and in Psalm cxxxix. 2. 
 Thou understandest my thought afar off. God 
 knows our thoughts before the very heart -that con- 
 ceives them. And how then can he, who is but of 
 yesterday, suggest any thing new to that eternal 
 mind ! how can ignorance inform omniscience ! 
 
 2dly, Neither does prayer prevail with God by 
 way o persuasion, or working upon the affections, so 
 as thereby to move him to pity or compassion. This 
 indeed is the most usual and most effectual way to 
 prevail with men ; who, for the generality, are, one 
 part reason, and nine parts affection. So that one 
 of a voluble tongue, and a dexterous insinuation, 
 may do what he will with vulgar minds, and with 
 wise men too, at their weak times. But God, who 
 is as void of passion or affection, as he is of quantity 
 or corporeity, is not to be dealt with this way. He 
 values not our rhetoric, nor our pathetical harangues. 
 He who applies to God, applies to an infinite al- 
 mighty reason, a pure act, all intellect, the first 
 mover, and therefore not to be moved or wrought 
 upon himself. In all passion, the mind suffers, (as 
 the very signification of the word imports,) but ab- 
 solute, entire perfection cannot suffer ; it is and 
 must be immovable, and by consequence impassible. 
 And therefore, 
 
 D d 4
 
 408 A SERMON 
 
 In the third and last place, much less is God to 
 be prevailed upon by importunity, and, as it were, 
 wearying him into a concession of what we beg 
 of him. Though with men we know this also is 
 not unusual. A notable instance of which we have 
 in Luke xviii. 4, 5. where the unjust judge being 
 with a restless vehemence sued to for justice, says 
 thus within himself: Though I fear not God, nor 
 regard man, yet because this widow troubleth me, 
 I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she 
 weary me. 
 
 In like manner, how often are beggars relieved 
 only for their eager and rude importunity ; not that 
 the person who relieves them is thereby informed or 
 satisfied of their real want, nor yet moved to pity 
 them by all their cry and cant, but to rid himself 
 from their vexatious noise and din ; so that to pur- 
 chase his quiet by a little alms he gratifies the beg- 
 gar, but indeed relieves himself. But now this 
 way is further from prevailing with God than either 
 of the former. For as omniscience is not to be in- 
 formed, so neither is omnipotence to be wearied. 
 We may much more easily think to clamour the 
 sun and stars out of their courses, than to word the 
 great Creator of them out of the steady purposes of 
 his own will, by all the vehemence and loudness of 
 our petitions. Men may tire themselves with their 
 own prayers, but God is not to be tired. The rapid 
 motion and whirl of things here below, interrupts 
 not the inviolable rest and calmness of the nobler 
 beings above. While the winds roar and bluster 
 here in the first and second regions of the air, there 
 is a perfect serenity in the third. Men's desires 
 cannot control God's decrees.
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 409 
 
 And thus I have shewn, that the three ways by 
 which men prevail with men in their prayers and 
 applications to them, have no place at all in giving 
 any efficacy to their addresses to God. 
 
 But you will ask then, Upon what account is it 
 that prayer becomes prevalent and efficacious with 
 God, so as to procure us the good things we pray 
 for ? I answer, Upon this, that it is the fulfilling of 
 that condition upon which God has freely promised 
 to convey his blessings to men. God of his own ab- 
 solute, unaccountable good- will and pleasure, has 
 thought fit to appoint and fix upon this as the means 
 by which he will supply and answer the wants of 
 mankind. As for instance ; suppose a prince should 
 declare , to any one of his subjects, that if he shall 
 appear before him every morning in his bed-cham- 
 ber, he shall receive of him a thousand talents. We 
 must not here imagine, that the subject, by making 
 this appearance, does either move or persuade his 
 prince to give him such a sum of money : no, he 
 only performs the condition of the promise, and 
 thereby acquires a right to the thing promised. He 
 does indeed hereby engage his prince to give him 
 this sum, though he does by no means persuade 
 him : or rather, to speak more strictly and properly, 
 the prince's own justice and veracity is an engage- 
 ment upon the prince himself, to make good his 
 promise to him who fulfills the conditions of it. 
 
 But you will say, that upon this ground it will 
 follow, that when we obtain any thing of God by 
 prayer, we have it upon claim of justice, and not by 
 way of gift, as a free result of his bounty. 
 
 I answer, that both these are very well consist- 
 ent ; for though he who makes a promise upon a
 
 410 A SERMON 
 
 certain condition, is bound in justice upon the ful- 
 filling of that condition to perform his promise ; yet 
 it was perfectly grace and goodness, bounty and 
 free mercy, that first induced him to make the pro- 
 mise, and particularly to state the tenor of it upon 
 such a condition. If we confess our sins, says the 
 apostle, 1 John i. 9. God is faithful and just to 
 forgive us our sins. Can any thing be freer and 
 more the effect of mere grace, than the forgiveness of 
 sins ? And yet it is certain from this scripture and 
 many more, that it is firmly promised us upon con- 
 dition of a penitent hearty confession of them, and 
 consequently as certain it is, that God stands obliged 
 here even by his faithfulness and justice, to make 
 good this his promise of forgiveness to those who 
 come up to the terms of it by such a confession. 
 
 In like manner, for prayer, in reference to the 
 good things prayed for. He who prays for a thing 
 as God has appointed him, gets thereby a right to 
 the thing prayed for : but it is a right, not springing 
 from any merit or condignity, either in the prayer 
 itself, or the person who makes it, to the blessing 
 which he prays for, but from God's veracity, truth, 
 and justice, who, having appointed prayer as the 
 condition of that blessing, cannot but stand to what 
 he himself had appointed ; though that he did ap- 
 point it, was the free result and determination of his 
 own will. 
 
 We have a full account of this whole matter from 
 God's own mouth, in Psalm 1. Call upon me, says 
 God, in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee. 
 These are evidently the terms upon which God an- 
 swers prayers : in which case there is no doubt but 
 the deliverance is still of more worth than the
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 411 
 
 prayer ; and there is as little doubt also, that with- 
 out such a previous declaration made on God's part, 
 a person so in trouble or distress might pray his 
 heart out, and yet God not be in the least obliged 
 by all his prayers, either in justice or honour, or in- 
 deed so much as in mercy, to deliver him ; for mercy 
 is free, and misery cannot oblige it. In a word, 
 prayer procures deliverance from trouble, just as 
 Naaman's dipping himself seven times in Jordan 
 procured him a deliverance from his leprosy ; not by 
 any virtue in itself adequate to so great an effect, 
 you may be sure ; but from this, that it was ap- 
 pointed by God as the condition of his recovery ; and 
 so obliged the power of him, who appointed it, to 
 give force and virtue to his own institution, beyond 
 what>4he nature of the thing itself could otherwise 
 have raised it to. 
 
 Let this therefore be fixed upon, as the ground- 
 work of what we are to say upon this subject : that 
 prayer prevails with God for the blessing that we 
 pray for, neither by way of information, nor yet of 
 persuasion, and much less by the importunity of him 
 who prays, and least of all by any worth in the 
 prayer itself, equal to the thing prayed for ; but it 
 prevails solely and entirely upon this account, that 
 it is freely appointed by God, as the stated, allowed 
 condition, upon which he will dispense his blessings 
 to mankind. 
 
 But before I dismiss this consideration, it may be 
 inquired, whence it is that prayer, rather than any 
 other thing, conies to be appointed by God for this 
 condition. In answer to which ; Though God's sove- 
 reign will be a sufficient reason of its own counsels 
 and determinations, and consequently a more than
 
 412 A SERMON 
 
 sufficient answer to all our inquiries ; yet, since God 
 in his infinite wisdom still adapts means to ends, 
 and never appoints a thing to any use, but what it 
 has a particular and a natural fitness for; I shall 
 therefore presume to assign a reason why prayer, 
 before all other things, should be appointed to this 
 noble use of being the condition and glorious conduit, 
 whereby to derive the bounties of heaven upon the 
 sons of men : and it is this ; because prayer, of all 
 other acts of a rational nature, does most peculiarly 
 qualify a man to be a fit object of the divine favour, 
 by being most eminently and properly an act of de- 
 pendance upon God ; since to pray, or beg a thing 
 of another, in the very nature and notion of it, im- 
 ports these two things : 1. That the person praying 
 stands in need of some good, which he is not able by 
 any power of his own to procure for himself: and, 
 2. That he acknowledges it in the power and plea- 
 sure of the person whom he prays to, to confer it 
 upon him. And this is properly that which men call 
 to depend. 
 
 But some may reply, There is an universal de- 
 pendance of all things upon God ; forasmuch as he, 
 being the great fountain and source of being, first 
 created, and since supports them by the word of his 
 power ; and consequently that this dependance be- 
 longs indifferently to the wicked as well as to the 
 just, whose prayer nevertheless is declared an abo- 
 mination to God. 
 
 But to this the answer is obvious, That the de- 
 pendance here spoken of is meant, not of a natural, 
 but of a moral dependance. The first is necessary, 
 the other voluntary. The first common to all, the 
 other proper to the pious. The first respects God
 
 ON ECCLESI A STES V. 2. 413 
 
 barely as a Creator, the other addresses to him as 
 a Father. Now such a dependance upon God it 
 is, that is properly seen in prayer. And being so, if 
 we should in all humble reverence set ourselves to 
 examine the wisdom of the divine proceeding in this 
 matter, even by the measures of our own reason, 
 what could be more rationally thought of for the 
 properest instrument to bring down God's blessings 
 upon the world, than such a temper of mind, as 
 makes a man disown all ability in himself to supply 
 his own wants, and at the same time own a tran- 
 scendent fulness and sufficiency in God to do it for 
 him ? And what can be more agreeable to all prin- 
 ciples both of reason and religion, than that a crea- 
 ture endued with understanding and will, should ac- 
 knowledge that dependance upon his Maker, by a 
 free act of choice, which other creatures have upon 
 him, only by necessity of nature ? 
 
 But still, there is one objection more against our 
 foregoing assertion, viz. That prayer obtains the 
 things prayed for, only as a condition, and not by 
 way of importunity or persuasion ; for is not prayer 
 said to prevail by frequency, Luke xviii. 7. and by 
 fervency, or earnestness, in James v. 16. and is not 
 this a fair proof that God is importuned and per- 
 suaded into a grant of our petitions ? 
 
 To this I answer two things ; 1. That wheresoever 
 God is said to answer prayers, either for their fre- 
 quency or fervency, it is spoken of him only avQpuTro- 
 natiug, according to the manner of men ; and conse- 
 quently ought to be understood only of the effect or 
 issue of such prayers, in the success certainly attend- 
 ing them, and not of the manner of their efficiency, 
 that it is by persuading or working upon the pas-
 
 414 A SERMON 
 
 sions: as if we should say, frequent, fervent, and 
 importunate prayers, are as certainly followed with 
 God's grant of the thing prayed for, as men use 
 to grant^that, which, being overcome by excessive 
 importunity and persuasion, they cannot find in 
 their hearts to deny. 2. I answer farther, That 
 frequency and fervency of prayer prove effectual to 
 procure of God the things prayed for, upon no other 
 account but as they are acts of dependance upon 
 God : which dependance we have already proved to 
 be that thing essentially included in prayer, for 
 which God has been pleased to make prayer the con- 
 dition, upon which he determines to grant men such 
 things as they need and duly apply to him for. So 
 that still there is nothing of persuasion in the case. 
 
 And thus having shewn (and I hope fully and 
 clearly) how prayer operates towards the obtaining 
 of the divine blessings ; namely, as a condition ap- 
 pointed by God for that purpose, and no otherwise : 
 and withal, for what reason it is singled out of all 
 other acts of a rational nature, to be this condition ; 
 namely, because it is the grand instance of such a 
 nature's dependance upon God : we shall now from 
 the same principle infer also, upon what account 
 the highest reverence of God is so indispensably re- 
 quired of us in prayer, and all sort of irreverence so 
 diametrically opposite to, and destructive of, the very 
 nature of it. And it will appear to be upon this, that 
 in what degree any one lays aside his reverence of 
 God, in the same he also quits his dependance upon 
 him : forasmuch as in every irreverent act, a man 
 treats God as if he had indeed no need of him, and 
 behaves himself as if he stood upon his own bottom, 
 absolute and selfsufficient. This is the natural Ian-
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 415 
 
 guage, the true signification and import of all irre- 
 verence. 
 
 Now in all addresses, either to God or man, by 
 speech, our reverence to them must consist of, and 
 shew itself in these two things. 
 
 First, A careful regulation of our thoughts, that 
 are to dictate and to govern our words ; which is 
 done by premeditation : and secondly, a due order- 
 ing of our words, that are to proceed from, and to 
 express our thoughts ; which is done by pertinence 
 and brevity of expression. 
 
 David, directing his prayer to God, joins these two 
 together as the two great integral parts of it, in 
 Psalm xix. 14. Let the words of my mouth, and the 
 meditations of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, 
 O Lord. So that it seems his prayer adequately 
 and entirely consisted of those two things, medita- 
 tion and expression, as it were the matter and form of 
 that noble composure. There being no mention at all 
 of distortion of face, sanctified grimace, solemn wink, 
 or foaming at the mouth, and the like ; all which are 
 circumstances of prayer of a later date, and brought 
 into request by those fantastic zealots, who had a 
 way of praying, as astonishing to the eyes, as to the 
 ears of those that heard them. Well then, the first 
 ingredient of a pious and reverential prayer, is a pre- 
 vious regulation of the thoughts, as the text ex- 
 presses it most emphatically ; Let not thy heart be 
 hasty to utter any thing before God ; that is, in 
 other words, let it not venture to throw out ^ts 
 crude, extemporary, sudden, and misshapen concep- 
 tions in the face of infinite perfection. Let not thy 
 heart conceive and bring forth together: this is 
 monstrous and unnatural. All abortion is from infir-
 
 416 A SERMON 
 
 mity and defect. And time is required to form the 
 issue of the mind, as well as that of the body. The 
 fitness or unfitness of the first thoughts, cannot be 
 judged of but by reflection of the second : and be 
 the invention never so fruitful, yet in the mind, as 
 in the earth, that which is cast into it must lie hid 
 and covered for a while, before it can be fit to shoot 
 forth. These are the methods of nature, and it is 
 seldom but the acts of religion conform to them. 
 
 He who is to pray, would he seriously judge of 
 the work that is before him, has more to consider of, 
 than either his heart can hold, or his head well turn 
 itself to. Prayer is one of the greatest and the 
 hardest works that a man has to do in this world ; 
 and was ever any thing difficult or glorious achiev- 
 ed by a sudden cast of a thought ? a flying stricture 
 of the imagination ? Presence of mind is indeed good, 
 but haste is not so. And therefore, let this be con- 
 cluded upon, that in the business of prayer, to pre- 
 tend to reverence when there is no premeditation, is 
 both impudence and contradiction. 
 
 Now this premeditation ought to respect these 
 three things: 1. The person whom we pray to: 2. 
 The matter of our prayers : and 3. The order and 
 disposition of them. 
 
 1 . And first, for the person whom we pray to. The 
 same is to employ, who must needs also nonplus and 
 astonish thy meditations, and be made the object of 
 thy thoughts, who infinitely transcends them. For 
 all the knowing and reasoning faculties of the soul 
 are utterly baffled and at a loss, when they offer at 
 any idea of the great God. Nevertheless, since it is 
 hard, if not impossible, to imprint an awe upon the 
 affections, without suitable notions first formed in
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 417 
 
 the apprehensions ; we must in our prayers endea- 
 vour at least to bring these as near to God as we 
 can, by considering such of his divine perfections as 
 have, by their effects, in a great measure, manifested 
 themselves to our senses, and, in a much greater, to 
 the discourses of our reason. 
 
 As first ; consider with thyself, how great and 
 glorious a Being that must needs be, that raised so 
 vast and beautiful a fabric as this of the world out 
 of nothing with the breath of his mouth, and can 
 and will, with the same, reduce it to nothing again ; 
 and then consider, that this is that high, amazing, in- 
 comprehensible Being, whom thou addressest thy 
 pitiful self to in prayer. 
 
 Consider next, his infinite, all-searching know- 
 ledge, which looks through and through the most 
 secret of our thoughts, ransacks every corner of the 
 heart, ponders the most inward designs and ends of 
 the soul in all a man's actions. And then consider, 
 that this is the God whom thou hast to deal with in 
 prayer ; the God who observes the postures, the 
 frame and motion of thy mind in all thy approaches 
 to him, and whose piercing eye it is impossible to 
 elude or escape by all the tricks and arts of the sub- 
 tilest and most refined hypocrisy. And lastly, con- 
 sider the great, the fiery, and the implacable jealousy 
 that he has for his honour ; and that he has no other 
 use of the whole creation, but to serve the ends of 
 it : and, above all, that he will, in a most peculiar 
 manner, be honoured of those who draw near to 
 him ; and will by no means suffer himself to be 
 mocked and affronted, under a pretence of being 
 worshipped ; nor endure that a wretched, contempt- 
 ible, sinful creature, who is but a piece of living dirt 
 
 VOL. I. E e
 
 418 A SERMON 
 
 at best, should at the same time bend the knee to 
 him, and spit in his face. And now consider, that 
 this is the God whom thou prayest to, and whom 
 thou usest with such intolerable indignity in every 
 unworthy prayer thou puttest up to him ; every 
 bold, saucy, and familiar word that (upon confidence 
 of being one of God's elect) thou presumest to debase 
 so great a majesty with : and for an instance of the 
 dreadful curse that attends such a daring irreverence, 
 consider how God used Nadab and Abihu for ven- 
 turing to offer strange Jire before him ; and then 
 know, that every unhallowed, unfitting prayer is a 
 strange fire ; a fire that will be sure to destroy the 
 offering, though mercy should spare the offerer. 
 Consider these things seriously, deeply, and severely, 
 till the consideration of them affects thy heart, and 
 humbles thy spirit, with such awful apprehensions of 
 thy Maker, and such abject reflections upon thyself, 
 as may lay thee in the dust before him : and know, 
 that the lower thou fallest, the higher will thy 
 prayer rebound ; and that thou art never so fit to 
 pray to God, as when a sense of thy own unworthi- 
 ness makes thee ashamed even to speak to him. 
 
 2. The second object of our premeditation is, the 
 matter of our prayers. For, as we are to consider 
 whom we are to pray to ; so are we to consider also, 
 what we are to pray for ; and this requires no ordi- 
 nary application of thought to distinguish or judge 
 of. Men's prayers are generally dictated by their 
 desires, and their desires are the issues of their af- 
 fections ; and their affections are, for the most part, 
 influenced by their corruptions. The first constitu- 
 ent principle of a well-conceived prayer is, to know 
 what not to pray for : which the scripture assures us
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 419 
 
 that some do not, while they pray for what they 
 may spend upon their lusts, James iv. 3. asking such 
 things as it is a contumely to God to hear, and dam- 
 nation to themselves to receive. No man is to pray 
 for any thing either sinful, or directly tending to sin. 
 No man is to pray for a temptation, and much less 
 to desire God to be his tempter ; which he would cer- 
 tainly be, should he, at the instance of any man's 
 prayer, administer fuel to his sinful or absurd appe- 
 tites. Nor is any one to ask of God things mean 
 and trivial, and beneath the majesty of heaven to be 
 concerned about, or solemnly addressed to for. Nor, 
 lastly, is any one to admit into his petitions things 
 superfluous or extravagant ; such as wealth, great- 
 ness, and, honour : which we are so far from being 
 warranted to beg of God, that we are to beg his 
 grace to despise and undervalue them : and it were 
 much, if the same things should be the proper ob- 
 jects both of our self-denial and of our prayers too ; 
 and that we should be allowed to solicit the satisfac- 
 tion, and enjoined to endeavour the mortification, 
 of the same desires. 
 
 The things that we are to pray for are either, 
 1st, Things of absolute necessity: or, 2dly, Things 
 of unquestionable charity. Of the first sort are all 
 spiritual graces required in us, as the indispensable 
 conditions of our salvation ; such as are, repentance, 
 faith, hope, charity, temperance, and all other vir- 
 tues that are either the parts or principles of a pious 
 life. These are to be the prime subject-matter of our 
 prayers ; and we shall find, that nothing comes this 
 way so easily from heaven, as those things that will 
 assuredly bring us to it. The Spirit dictates all such 
 petitions, and God himself is first the author, and 
 
 E e 2
 
 420 A SERMON 
 
 then the fulfiller of them ; owning and accepting 
 them, both as our duty and his own production. The 
 other sort of things that may allowably be prayed for, 
 are things of manifest, unquestionable charity: such 
 as are a competent measure of the innocent comforts 
 of life, as health, peace, maintenance, and a success 
 of our honest labours : and yet even these but con- 
 ditionally, and with perfect resignation to the will 
 and wisdom of the sovereign disposer of all that be- 
 longs to us ; who (if he finds it more for his honour to 
 have us serve him with sick, crazy, languishing 
 bodies ; with poverty, and extreme want of all things ; 
 and lastly, with our country all in a flame about our 
 ears) ought, in all this, and much more, to overrule 
 our prayers and desires into an absolute acquiescence 
 in his all-wise disposal of things ; and to convince us, 
 that our prayers are sometimes best answered, when 
 our desires are most opposed. 
 
 In fine, to state the whole matter of our prayers 
 in one word ; Nothing can be fit for us to pray for, 
 but what is fit and honourable for our great medi- 
 ator and master of requests, Jesus Christ himself, to 
 intercede for. This is to be the unchangeable rule 
 and measure of all our petitions. And then, if Christ 
 is to convey these our petitions to his Father, can 
 any one dare to make him, who was holiness and 
 purity itself, an advocate and solicitor for his lusts ? 
 Him, who was nothing but meekness, lowliness, and 
 humility, his providetore for such things as can only 
 feed his pride, and flush his ambition ? No, certainly; 
 when we come as suppliants to the throne of grace, 
 where Christ sits as intercessor at God's right hand, 
 nothing can be fit to proceed out of our mouth, but 
 what is fit to pass through his.
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 421 
 
 3dly, The third and last thing that calls for a 
 previous meditation to our prayers is, the order and 
 disposition of them ; for though God does not com- 
 mand us to set off our prayers with dress and arti- 
 fice, to flourish it in trope and metaphor, to beg our 
 daily bread in blank verse, or lo shew any thing of 
 the poet in our devotions, but indigence and want ; 
 I say, though God is far from requiring such things 
 of us in our prayers, yet he requires that we should 
 manage them with sense and reason. Fineness is 
 not expected, but decency is ; and though we cannot 
 declaim as orators, yet he will have us speak like 
 men, and tender him the results of that under- 
 standing and judgment, that essentially constitute a 
 rational nature. 
 
 But! shall briefly cast what I have to say upon 
 this particular into these following assertions : 
 
 1st, That nothing can express our reverence to God 
 in prayer, that would pass for irreverence towards a 
 great man. Let any subject tender his prince a pe- 
 tition fraught with nonsense and incoherence, con- 
 fusion and impertinence ; and can he expect, that 
 majesty should answer it with any thing but a deaf 
 ear, a frowning eye, or, (at best,) vouchsafe it any 
 other reward, but, by a gracious oblivion, to forgive 
 the person, and forget the petition ? 
 
 2dly, Nothing absurd and irrational, and such as a 
 wise man would despise, can be acceptable to God in 
 prayer. Solomon expressly tells us in Ecclesiastes v. 
 4. that God has no pleasure in fools ; nor is it pos- 
 sible that an infinite wisdom should. The scripture 
 all along expresses sin and wickedness by the name 
 of folly : and therefore certainly folly is too near of 
 kin to it, to find any approbation from God in so 
 
 E e 3
 
 422 A SERMON 
 
 great a duty : it is the simplicity of the heart, and 
 not of the head, that is the best inditer of our peti- 
 tions. That which proceeds from the latter is un- 
 doubtedly the sacrifice of fools ; and God is never 
 more weary of sacrifice, than when a fool is the 
 priest, and folly the oblation. 
 
 3dly and lastly, Nothing rude, slight, and care- 
 less, or indeed less than the very best that a man 
 can offer, can be acceptable or pleasing to God in 
 prayer: If ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not 
 evil ? If ye offer the lame and the sick, is it not 
 evil ? Qffer it now to thy governor, and see whether 
 he will be pleased with thee, or accept thy person, 
 saith the Lord of hosts. Malachi i. 8. God rigidly 
 expects a return of his own gifts ; and where he has 
 given ability, will be served by acts proportionable 
 to it. And he who has parts to raise and propagate 
 his own honour by, but none to employ in the wor- 
 ship of him that gave them, does (as I may so ex- 
 press it) refuse to wear God's livery in his own ser- 
 vice, adds sacrilege to profaneness, strips and starves 
 his devotions, and, in a word, falls directly under 
 the dint of that clirse denounced in the last verse of 
 the first of Malachi, Cursed be the deceiver, that 
 hath in his flock a male, and voweth, and sacrfficeth 
 to the Lord a corrupt thing. The same is here, 
 both the deceiver and the deceived too; for God 
 very well knows what he gives men, and why ; and 
 where he has bestowed judgment, learning, and 
 utterance, will not endure that men should be accu- 
 rate in their discourse, and loose in their devotions ; 
 or think that the great author of every good and 
 perfect gift will be put off with ramble, and con- 
 fused talk, babble, and tautology.
 
 OX ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 423 
 
 And thus much for the order and disposition of 
 our prayers, which certainly requires precedent 
 thought and meditation. God has declared himself 
 the God of order in all things ; and will have it ob- 
 served in what he commands others, as well as in 
 what he does himself. Order is the great rule or 
 art by which God made the world, and by which 
 he still governs it : nay, the world itself is nothing 
 else ; and all this glorious system of things is but 
 the chaos put into order : and how then can God, 
 who has so eminently owned himself concerned for 
 this excellent thing, brook such absurdity and confu- 
 sion, as the slovenly and profane negligence of some 
 treats him with in their most solemn addresses to him? 
 All which is the natural, unavoidable consequent of 
 unpreparedness and want of premeditation ; without 
 which, whosoever presumes to pray, cannot be so 
 properly said to approach to, as to break in upon 
 God. And surely he who is so hardy as to do so, 
 has no reason in the earth to expect that the success 
 which follows his prayers should be greater than the 
 preparation that goes before them. 
 
 Now from what has been hitherto discoursed of, 
 this first an4 grand qualification of a pious and de- 
 vout prayer, to wit, premeditation of thought, what 
 can be so naturally and so usefully inferred, as the 
 high expediency, or rather the absolute necessity of 
 a set form of prayer to guide our devotions by? 
 We have lived in an age that has despised, contra- 
 dicted, and counteracted all the principles and prac- 
 tices of the primitive Christians, in taking the mea- 
 sures of their duty both to God and man, and of 
 their behaviour both in matters civil and religious ; 
 but in nothing more scandalously, than in their vile 
 
 E e 4
 
 424 A SERMON 
 
 abuse of the great duty of prayer ; concerning which, 
 though it may with the clearest truth be affirmed, 
 that there has been no church yet of any account in 
 the Christian world, but what has governed its pub- 
 lic worship of God by a liturgy or set form of prayer ; 
 yet these enthusiastic innovators, the bold and blind 
 reformers of all antiquity, and wiser than the whole 
 catholic church besides, introduced into the room of 
 it a saucy, senseless, extemporary way of speaking 
 to God ; affirming, that this was a praying by the 
 Spirit ; and that the use of all set forms was stinting 
 of the Spirit. A pretence, I confess, popular and 
 plausible enough with such idiots as take the sound 
 of words for the sense of them. But for the full 
 confutation of it, (which, I hope, shall be done both 
 easily and briefly too,) I shall advance this one as- 
 sertion in direct contradiction to that ; namely, 
 
 That the praying by a set form, is not a stinting 
 of the Spirit ; and the praying extempore truly and 
 properly is so. 
 
 For the proving and making out of which, we will 
 first consider, what it is to pray by the Spirit: a thing 
 much talked of, but not so convenient for the talkers 
 of it, and pretenders to it, to have it rightly stated 
 and understood. In short, it includes in it these 
 two things : 
 
 1st, A praying with the heart, which is sometimes 
 called the spirit, or inward man ; and so it is properly 
 opposed to hypocritical lip-devotions, in which the 
 heart or spirit does not go along with a man's 
 words. 
 
 2dly, It includes in it also a praying according 
 to the rules prescribed by God's holy Spirit, and 
 held forth to us in his revealed word, which word
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 425 
 
 was both dictated and confirmed by this Spirit ; and 
 so it is opposed to the praying unlawfully, or un- 
 warrantably ; and that either in respect of the mat- 
 ter or manner of our prayers. As, when we desire 
 of God such things, or in such a way, as the Spirit of 
 God, speaking in his holy word, does by no means 
 warrant or approve of. So that to pray by the Spi- 
 rit, signifies neither more nor less but to pray know- 
 ingly, heartily, and affectionately for such things, 
 and in such a manner, as the Holy Ghost in scrip- 
 ture either commands or allows of. As for any 
 other kind of praying by the Spirit, upon the best 
 inquiry that I can make into these matters, I can 
 find none. And if some say (as I know they both 
 impudently and blasphemously do) that, to pray by 
 the Spirit is to have the Spirit immediately inspiring 
 them, and by such inspiration speaking within them, 
 and so dictating their prayers to them, let them 
 either produce plain scripture, or do a miracle to 
 prove this by. But till then, he who shall consider 
 what kind of prayers these pretenders to the Spirit 
 have been notable for, will find that they have as 
 little cause to father their prayers, as their practices, 
 upon the Spirit of God. 
 
 These two things are certain, and I do particu- 
 larly recommend them to your observation. One, 
 That this way of praying by the Spirit, as they call 
 it, was begun and first brought into use here in 
 England in queen Elizabeth's days, by a Popish 
 priest and Dominican friar, one Faithful Commin by 
 name ; who counterfeiting himself a protestant, and 
 a zealot of the highest form, set up this new spiri- 
 tual way of praying, with a design to bring the
 
 42G A SERMON 
 
 people first to a contempt, and from thence to an 
 utter hatred and disuse of our common prayer ; 
 which he still reviled as only a translation of the 
 mass, thereby to distract men's minds, and to divide 
 our church. And this he did with such success, 
 that we have lived to see the effects of his labours in 
 the utter subversion of church and state. Which 
 hellish negotiation, when this malicious hypocrite 
 came to Rome to give the pope an account of, he 
 received of him, (as so notable a service well deserv- 
 ed,) besides a thousand thanks, two thousand ducats 
 for his pains. So that now you see here the origi- 
 nal of this extempore way of praying by the Spirit. 
 The other thing that I would observe to you is, 
 that in the neighbour nation of Scotland, one of the 
 greatest 3 monsters of men that, I believe, ever lived, 
 and actually in league with the devil, was yet, by 
 the confession of all that heard him, the most excel- 
 lent at this extempore way of praying by the Spirit 
 of any man in his time ; none was able to come 
 near him, or to compare with him. But surely now, 
 he who shall venture to ascribe the prayers of such 
 a wretch, made up of adulteries, incest, witchcraft, 
 and other villainies, not to be named, to the Spirit 
 of God, may as well strike in with the Pharisees, 
 and ascribe the miracles of Christ to the devil. And 
 thus having shewn, both what ought to be meant 
 by praying by the Spirit, and what ought not, cannot 
 be meant by it ; let us now see whether a set form, 
 or this extemporary way, be the greater hinderer 
 and stinter of it : in order to which, I shall lay down 
 these three assertions. 
 
 a Major John Weyer. See Ravaillac Rediviv.
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 427 
 
 1st, That the soul or mind of man is but of a 
 limited nature in all its workings, and consequently 
 cannot supply two distinct faculties at the same 
 time, to the same height of operation. 
 
 2dly, That the finding words and expressions for 
 prayer, is the proper business of the brain and the 
 invention ; and, that the finding devotion and affec- 
 tion to accompany and go along with those expres- 
 sions, is properly the work and business of the 
 heart. 
 
 3dly, That this devotion and affection is indis- 
 pensably required in prayer, as the principal and 
 most essential part of it, and that in which the spi- 
 rituality of it does most properly consist. 
 
 Now from these three things put together, this 
 musCnaturally and necessarily follow ; that as spi- 
 ritual prayer, or praying by the Spirit, taken in the 
 right sense of the word, consists properly in that af- 
 fection and devotion, that the heart exercises and 
 employs in the work of prayer ; so, whatsoever gives 
 the soul scope and liberty to exercise and employ 
 this affection and devotion, that does most effectually 
 help and enlarge the spirit of prayer ; and what- 
 soever diverts the soul from employing such affec- 
 tion and devotion, that does most directly stint and 
 hinder it. Accordingly let this now be our rule 
 whereby to judge of the efficacy of a set form, and 
 of the extemporary way in the present business. As 
 for a set form, in which the words are ready pre- 
 pared to our hands, the soul has nothing to do but 
 to attend to the work of raising the affections and 
 devotions, to go along with those words ; so that all 
 the powers of the soul are took up in applying the 
 heart to this great duty ; and it is the exercise of
 
 428 A SERMON 
 
 the heart (as has been already shewn) that is truly 
 and properly a praying by the Spirit. On the con- 
 trary, in all extempore prayer, the powers and facul- 
 ties of the soul are called off from dealing with the 
 heart and the affections ; and that both in the 
 speaker and in the hearer ; both in him who makes, 
 and in him who is to join in such prayers. 
 
 And first, for the minister who makes and utters 
 such extempore prayers. He is wholly employ- 
 ing his invention, both to conceive matter, and to 
 find words and expressions to clothe it in : this is 
 certainly the work which takes up his mind in this 
 exercise : and since the nature of man's mind is such, 
 that it cannot with the same vigour, at the same 
 time, attend the work of invention, and that of rais- 
 ing the affections also ; nor measure out the same 
 supply of spirits and intention for the carrying on 
 the operations of the head, and those of the heart 
 too ; it is certain, that while the head is so much em- 
 ployed, the heart must be idle and very little em- 
 ployed, and perhaps not at all : and consequently, if 
 to pray by the Spirit, be to pray with the heart and 
 the affections ; it is also as certain, that while a man 
 prays extempore, he does not pray by the Spirit : 
 nay, the very truth of it is, that while he is so doing, 
 he is not praying at all, but he is studying ; he is 
 beating his brain, while he should be drawing out 
 his affections. 
 
 And then for the people that are to hear and 
 join with him in such prayers ; it is manifest that 
 they, not knowing beforehand what the minister will 
 say, must, as soon as they do hear him, presently busy 
 and bestir their minds both to apprehend and under- 
 stand the meaning of what they hear ; and withal,
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 429 
 
 to judge whether it be of such a nature, as to be fit 
 for them to join and concur with him in. So that 
 the people also are, by this course, put to study, and 
 to employ their apprehending and judging faculties, 
 while they should be exerting their affections and 
 devotions ; and consequently, by this means, the 
 spirit of prayer is stinted, as well in the congrega- 
 tion that follows, as in the minister who first con- 
 ceives a prayer after their extempore way : which 
 is a truth so clear, and indeed self-evident, that it is 
 impossible that it should need any further argu- 
 ments to demonstrate or make it out. 
 
 The sum of all this is ; That since a set form of 
 prayer leaves the soul wholly free to employ its affec- 
 tions ajid devotions, in which the spirit of prayer 
 does -most properly consist ; it follows, that the spirit 
 of prayer is thereby, in a singular manner, helped, 
 promoted, and enlarged : and since, on the other 
 hand, the extempore way withdraws and takes off 
 the soul from employing its affections, and engages 
 it chiefly, if not wholly, about the use of its inven- 
 tion ; it as plainly follows, that the spirit of prayer 
 is by this means unavoidably cramped and hindered, 
 and (to use their own word) stinted : which was the 
 proposition that I undertook to prove. But there are 
 two things, I confess, that are extremely hindered 
 and stinted by a set form of prayer, and equally fur- 
 thered and enlarged by the extempore way ; which, 
 without all doubt, is the true cause why the former 
 is so much decried, and the latter so much extolled, 
 by the men whom we are now pleading with. The 
 first of which is pride and ostentation ; the other, 
 faction and sedition. 
 
 1. And first for pride. I do not in the least ques-
 
 430 A SERMON 
 
 tion, but the chief design of such as use the extem- 
 pore way, is to amuse the unthinking rabble with an 
 admiration of their gifts ; their whole devotion pro- 
 ceeding from no other principle, but only a love to 
 hear themselves talk. And I believe it would put 
 Lucifer himself hard to it, to outvie the pride of 
 one of those fellows pouring out his extempore stuff 
 amongst his ignorant, whining, factious followers, 
 listening to, and applauding his copious flow and 
 cant, with the ridiculous accents of their impertinent 
 groans. And, the truth is, extempore prayer, even 
 when best and most dexterously performed, is no- 
 thing else but a business of invention and wit, (such 
 as it is,) and requires no more to it, but a teem- 
 ing imagination, a bold front, and a ready expres- 
 sion ; and deserves much the same commendation 
 (were it not in a matter too serious to be sudden upon) 
 which is due to extempore verses : only with this 
 difference, that there is necessary to these latter a 
 competent measure of wit and learning; whereas 
 the former may be done with very little wit, and no 
 learning at all. 
 
 And now, can any sober person think it reason- 
 able, that the public devotions of a whole congrega- 
 tion should be under the conduct and at the mercy 
 of a pert, empty, conceited holder-forth, whose chief 
 (if not sole) intent is to vaunt his spiritual clack, and 
 (as I may so speak) to pray prizes ; whereas prayer is 
 a duty that recommends itself to the acceptance of 
 Almighty God, by no other qualification so much, as 
 by the profoundest humility, and the lowest esteem 
 that a man can possibly have of himself? 
 
 Certainly the extemporizing faculty is never more 
 out of its element, than in the pulpit ; though even
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 431 
 
 here it is much more excusable in a sermon than in 
 a prayer ; forasmuch as in that, a man addresses him- 
 self but to men ; men like himself, whom he may 
 therefore make bold with ; as, no doubt, for so doing, 
 they will also make bold with him. Besides the pe- 
 culiar advantage attending all such sudden concep- 
 tions, that, as they are quickly born, so they quickly 
 die : it being seldom known, where the speaker has 
 so very fluent an invention, but the hearer also has 
 the gift of as fluent a memory. 
 
 2dly, The other thing that has been hitherto so 
 little befriended by a set form of prayer, and so very 
 much by the extempore way, is faction and sedition. 
 It has been always found an excellent way of gird- 
 ing at the government in scripture phrase. And we 
 all know the common dialect, in which the great 
 masters of this art used to pray for the king, and 
 which may justly pass for only a cleanlier and more 
 refined kind of libelling him in the Lord. As, that 
 God would turn his heart, and open his eyes : as if 
 he were a pagan, yet to be converted to Christianity ; 
 with many other sly, virulent, and malicious insinua- 
 tions, which we may every day hear of from (those 
 mints of treason and rebellion) their conventicles ; 
 and for which, and a great deal less, some princes 
 and governments would make them not only eat 
 their words, but the tongue that spoke them too. In 
 fine, let all their extempore harangues be considered 
 and duly weighed, and you shall find a spirit of 
 pride, faction, and sedition, predominant in them all ; 
 the only spirit which those impostors do really and 
 indeed pray by. 
 
 I have been so much the longer and the earnester
 
 432 A SERMON 
 
 against this intoxicating, bewitching cheat of extem- 
 pore prayer, being fully satisfied in my conscience, 
 that it has been all along the devil's masterpiece and 
 prime engine to overthrow our church by. For I look 
 upon this as a most unanswerable truth, that what- 
 soever renders the public worship of God contempti- 
 ble amongst us, must, in the same degree, weaken 
 and discredit our whole religion. Ad I hope I 
 have also proved it to be a truth altogether as clear, 
 that this extempore way naturally brings all the 
 contempt upon the worship of God, that both the 
 folly and faction of men can possibly expose it to : 
 and therefore as a thing neither subservient to the 
 true purposes of religion, nor grounded upon princi- 
 ples of reason, nor, lastly, suitable to the practice of 
 antiquity, ought, by all means, to be exploded and 
 cast out of every sober and well-ordered church ; or 
 that will be sure to throw the church itself out of 
 doors. 
 
 And thus I have at length finished what I had to 
 say of the first ingredient of a pious and reverential 
 prayer, which was premeditation of thought, pre- 
 scribed^ to us in these words, Let not thy mouth be 
 rash., nor thy heart be hasty to utter any thing be- 
 fore God. Which excellent words and most wise 
 advice of Solomon, whosoever can reconcile to the 
 expediency, decency, or usefulness of extempore 
 prayer, I shall acknowledge him a man of greater 
 ability and parts of mind than Solomon himself. 
 
 The other ingredient of a reverential and duly 
 qualified prayer is, a pertinent brevity of expression , 
 mentioned and recommended in that part of the 
 text, Therefore let thy words be few. But this I
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 433 
 
 cannot despatch now, and therefore shall not enter 
 upon at this time. 
 
 Now to God the Father, God the Son, and God 
 the Holy Ghost, three Persons and one God, 
 be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all 
 praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now 
 and for evermore. Amen. 
 
 VOL. I. F f
 
 A Discourse against long and extempore- 
 Prayers : 
 
 IN BEHALF OF THE 
 
 LITURGY OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 
 
 UPON THE SAME TEXT. 
 
 ECCLES. v. 2. 
 
 Be not rash with thy mouth, and let not thine heart be 
 hasty to utter any thing before God : for God is in hea- 
 ven, and thou upon earth : therefore let thy words be Jew. 
 
 1 FORMERLY began a discourse upon these words, 
 and observed in them these three things : 
 
 1st, That whosoever appears in the house of God, 
 and particularly in the way of prayer, ought to 
 reckon himself, in a more especial manner, placed in 
 the sight and presence of God : and, 
 
 2dly, That the vast and infinite distance between 
 God and him, ought to create in him all imaginable 
 awe and reverence in such his addresses to God. 
 
 3dly and lastly, That this reverence required of 
 him, is to consist in a serious preparation of his 
 thoughts, and a sober government of his expres- 
 sions : neither is his mouth to be rash, nor his 
 heart to be hasty in uttering any thing before God. 
 
 These three things I shew, were evidently con- 
 tained in the words, and did as evidently contain the
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 435 
 
 whole sense of them. But I gathered them all into 
 this one proposition ; namely, 
 
 That premeditation of thought, and brevity of ex- 
 pression, are the great ingredients of that reverence 
 that is required to a pious, acceptable, and devout 
 prayer. 
 
 The first of these, which is premeditation of 
 thought, I then fully treated of, and despatched; 
 and shall now proceed to the other, which is a 
 pertinent brevity of expression ; therefore let thy 
 words be few. 
 
 Concerning which we shall observe, first, in gene- 
 ral, that to be able to express our minds briefly, and 
 fully too, is absolutely the greatest perfection and 
 commendation that speech is capable of; such a mu- 
 tual-communication of our thoughts being (as I may 
 so speak) the next approach to intuition, and the 
 nearest imitation of the converse of blessed spirits 
 made perfect, that our condition in this world can 
 possibly raise us to. Certainly the greatest and the 
 wisest conceptions that ever issued from the mind of 
 man, have been couched under, and delivered in, a 
 few, close, home, and significant words. 
 
 But, to derive the credit of this way of speaking 
 much higher, and from an example infinitely greater, 
 than the greatest human wisdom, was it not au- 
 thorized and ennobled by God himself in his making 
 of the world ? Was not the work of all the six days 
 transacted in so many words ? There was no circum- 
 locution or amplification in the case ; which makes 
 the rhetorician Longinus, in his book of the Loftiness 
 of Speech, so much admire the height and grandeur 
 of Moses's style in his first chapter of Genesis : 'O rav 
 
 lovftaiuv OefffAoQcTys, 01% o TV^WV dvyp. " The lawgiver of 
 
 F f 2
 
 436 A SERMON 
 
 " the Jews," says he, (meaning Moses,) " was no ordi- 
 
 " nary man," firfifiy ryv rov Seov fivvapiv KO.TO. ryv a^iav 
 
 (yvtopivc Ka%<f>yvtv " because," says he, " he set forth the 
 " divine power suitably to the majesty and greatness 
 " of it." But how did he this ? Why, evQvf ev TTJ V- 
 (3oXy ypa\l>a$ rS>v vofJitov, EiWev o eo^, </7<r/, ri ; V^veaBd) <^>u>g , 
 KOI eyevero* *yeveo-0a> yvj, K/xt cyevero, &C. " for that," says 
 he, " in the very entrance of his laws he gives us 
 " this short and pleasant account of the whole cre- 
 " ation : God said, Let there be light, and there was 
 " light: Let there be an earth, a sea, and afirma- 
 " ment ; and there teas *o." So that all this high 
 elogy and encomium, given by this heathen of Moses, 
 sprang only from the majestic brevity of this one 
 expression ; an expression so suited to the greatness 
 of a creator, and so expressive of his boundless, cre- 
 ative power, as a power infinitely above all control 
 or possibility of finding the least obstacle or delay in 
 achieving its mightiest and most stupendous works. 
 Heaven and earth, and all the host of both, as it 
 were, dropped from his mouth, and nature itself was 
 but the product of a word ; a word, not designed to 
 express, but to constitute and give a being ; and not 
 so much the representation, as the cause, of what it 
 signified. 
 
 This was God's way of speaking in his first form- 
 ing of the universe : and was it not so in the next 
 grand instance of his power, his governing of it too ? 
 For are not the great instruments of government, 
 his laws, drawn up and digested into a few sen- 
 tences; the whole body of them containing but 
 ten commandments, and some of those command- 
 ments not so many words ? Nay, and have we not 
 these also brought into yet a narrower compass by
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 437 
 
 Him who best understood them ? Thou shalt love the 
 Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
 soul, and thy neighbour as thyself: precepts no- 
 thing like the tedious, endless, confused trash of 
 human laws ; laws so numerous, that they not only 
 exceed men's practice, but also surpass their arith- 
 metic ; and so voluminous, that no mortal head, nor 
 shoulders neither, must ever pretend themselves able 
 to bear them. In God's laws, the words are few, the 
 sense vast and infinite. In human laws, you shall 
 be sure to have words enough ; but, for the most 
 part, to discern the sense and reason of them, you 
 had need read them with a microscope. 
 
 And thus having shewn how the Almighty utters 
 himself when he speaks, and that upon the greatest 
 occasions ; let us now descend from heaven to earth, 
 from God to man, and shew, that it is no presump- 
 tion for us to conform our words, as well as our ac- 
 tions, to the supreme pattern, and, according to our 
 poor measures, to imitate the wisdom that we adore. 
 And for this, has it not been noted by the best ob- 
 servers and the ablest judges both of things and per- 
 sons, that the wisdom of any people or nation has 
 been most seen in the proverbs and short sayings 
 commonly received amongst them ? And what is a 
 proverb, but the experience and observation of several 
 ages, gathered and summed up into one expression ? 
 The scripture vouches Solomon for the wisest of men : 
 and they are his Proverbs that prove him so. The 
 seven wise men of Greece, so famous for their wis- 
 dom all the world over, acquired all that fame each 
 of them by a single sentence, consisting of two or 
 three words : and yvuQt veavrov still lives and flourishes 
 in the mouths of all, while many vast volumes are 
 
 Ff 3
 
 438 A SERMON 
 
 extinct, and sunk into dust and utter oblivion. And 
 then, for books; we shall generally find, that the 
 most excellent, in any art or science, have been still 
 the smallest and most compendious : and this not 
 without ground ; for it is an argument that the au- 
 thor was a master of what he wrote, and had a clear 
 notion and a full comprehension of the subject before 
 him. For the reason of things lies in a little com- 
 pass, if the mind could at any time be so happy as to 
 light upon it. Most of the writings and discourses 
 in the world are but illustration and rhetoric, which 
 signifies as much as nothing to a mind eager in pur- 
 suit after the causes and philosophical truth of 
 things. It is the work of fancy to enlarge, but of 
 judgment to shorten and contract ; and therefore 
 this must needs be as far above the other, as judg- 
 ment is a greater and a nobler faculty than fancy or 
 imagination. All philosophy is reduced to a few 
 principles, and those principles comprised in a few 
 propositions. And as the whole structure of specu- 
 lation rests upon three or four axioms or maxims ; so 
 that of practice also bears upon a very small number 
 of rules. And surely there was never yet any rule 
 or maxim that filled a volume, or took up a week's 
 time to be got by heart. No, these are the apices 
 rerum, the tops and sums, the very spirit and life of 
 things extracted and abridged ; just as all the lines 
 drawn from the vastest circumference do at length 
 meet and unite in the smallest of things, a point : 
 and it is but a very little piece of wood, with which 
 a true artist will measure all the timber in the world. 
 The truth is, there could be no such thing as art or 
 science, could not the mind of man gather the ge- 
 neral natures of things out of the numberless heap of
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 439 
 
 particulars, and then bind them up into such short 
 aphorisms or propositions ; that so they may be 
 made portable to the memory, and thereby become 
 ready and at hand for the judgment to apply and 
 make use of, as there shall be occasion. 
 
 In fine, brevity and succinctness of speech is that, 
 which, in philosophy or speculation, we call maxim, 
 and first principle ; in the counsels and resolves of 
 practical wisdom, and the deep mysteries of religion, 
 oracle; and lastly, in matters of wit, and the fine- 
 nesses of imagination, epigram. All of them, seve- 
 rally and in their kinds, the greatest and the noblest 
 things that the mind of man can shew the force and 
 dexterity of its faculties in. 
 
 And now, if this be the highest excellency and 
 perfection of speech in all other things, can we as- 
 sign any true, solid reason why it should not be so 
 likewise in prayer? Nay, is there not rather the 
 clearest reason imaginable why it should be much 
 more so ; since most of the forementioned things are 
 but addresses to an human understanding, which 
 may need as many words as may fill a volume, to 
 make it understand the truth of one line ? whereas 
 prayer is an address to that eternal mind, which, as 
 we have shewn before, such as rationally invocate 
 pretend not to inform. Nevertheless, since the nature 
 of man is such, that, while we are yet in the body, 
 our reverence and worship of God must of necessity 
 proceed in some analogy to the reverence that we 
 shew to the grandees of this world, we will here see 
 what the judgment of all wise men is concerning 
 fewness of words, when we appear as suppliants be- 
 fore our earthly superiors ; and we shall find, that 
 they generally allow it to import these three things : 
 
 F f 4
 
 440 A SERMON 
 
 1. Modesty; 2. Discretion ; and 3dly, Height of re- 
 spect to the person addressed to. And first, for 
 modesty. Modesty is a kind of shame or bashful- 
 ness, proceeding from the sense a man has of his 
 own defects, compared with the perfections of him 
 whom he comes before. And that which is modesty 
 towards men, is worship and devotion towards God. 
 It is a virtue that makes a man unwilling to be seen, 
 and fearful to be heard; and yet, for that very 
 cause, never fails to make him both seen with fa- 
 vour, and heard with attention. It loves not many 
 words, nor indeed needs them. For modesty, ad- 
 dressing to any one of a generous worth and honour, 
 is sure to have that man's honour for its advocate, 
 and his generosity for its intercessor. And how 
 then is it possible for such a virtue to run out into 
 words ? Loquacity storms the ear, but modesty takes 
 the heart ; that is troublesome, this gentle, but irre- 
 sistible. Much speaking is always the effect of con- 
 fidence ; and confidence still presupposes, and springs 
 from, the persuasion that a man has of his own 
 worth : both of them certainly very unfit qualifica- 
 tions for a petitioner. 
 
 2dly, The second thing that naturally shews it- 
 self in paucity of words is, discretion ; and particu- 
 larly that prime and eminent part of it, that con- 
 sists in a care of offending : which Solomon assures 
 us, that in much speaking it is hardly possible for 
 us to avoid; in Prov. x. 19. In the multitude of 
 words, says he, there wanteth not sin. It requiring 
 no ordinary skill for a man to make his tongue run 
 by rule, and, at the same time, to give it both its 
 lesson and its liberty too. For seldom or never is 
 there much spoke, but something or other had better
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 411 
 
 been not spoke ; there being nothing that the mind 
 of man is so apt to kindle and take distaste at, as 
 at words : and therefore, whensoever any one comes 
 to prefer a suit to another, no doubt the fewer of 
 them the better ; since, where so very little is said, 
 it is sure to be either candidly accepted, or, which is 
 next, easily excused : but at the same time to peti- 
 tion and to provoke too, is certainly very preposte- 
 rous. 
 
 3dly, The third thing that brevity of speech com- 
 mends itself by in all petitionary addresses is, a pe- 
 culiar respect to the person addressed to : for who- 
 soever petitions his superior in such a manner, does, 
 by his very so doing, confess him better able to un- 
 derstand, than he himself can be to express his own 
 case."" He owns him as a patron of a preventing 
 judgment and goodness, and, upon that account, 
 able, not only to answer, but also to anticipate his 
 requests. For, according to the most natural inter- 
 pretation of things, this is to ascribe to him a saga- 
 city so quick and piercing, that it were presumption 
 to inform ; and a benignity so great, that it were 
 needless to importune him. And can there be a 
 greater and more winning deference to a superior, 
 than to treat him under such a character ? Or can 
 any thing be imagined so naturally fit and effica- 
 cious, both to enforce the petition, and to endear the 
 petitioner? A short petition to a great man is not 
 only a suit to him for his favour, but also a panegy- 
 ric upon his parts. 
 
 And thus I have given you the three commenda- 
 tory qualifications of brevity of speech in our applica- 
 tions to the great ones of the world. Concerning 
 which, as I shewed before, that it was impossible
 
 442 A SERMON 
 
 for us to form our addresses, even to God himself, 
 but with some proportion and resemblance to those 
 that we make to our fellow mortals in a condition 
 much above us ; so it is certain, that whatsoever 
 the general judgment and consent of mankind al- 
 lows to be expressive and declarative of our honour 
 to those, must (only with due allowance of the diffe- 
 rence of the object) as really and properly declare 
 and signify that honour and adoration that is due 
 from us to the great God. And, consequently, what 
 we have said for brevity of speech with respect to 
 the former, ought equally to conclude for it with re- 
 lation to him too. 
 
 But to argue more immediately and directly to 
 the point before us, I shall now produce five argu- 
 ments, enforcing brevity, and cashiering all prolixity 
 of speech, with peculiar reference to our addresses to 
 God. 
 
 1. And the first argument shall be taken from 
 this consideration, That there is no reason allegeable 
 for the use of length or prolixity of speech, that is 
 at all applicable to. prayer. For whosoever uses 
 multiplicity of words, or length of discourse, must of 
 necessity do it for one of these three purposes ; 
 either to inform, or persuade ; or, lastly, to weary 
 and overcome the person whom he directs his dis- 
 course to. But the very first foundation of what I 
 had to say upon this subject was laid by me, in de- 
 monstrating, that prayer could not possibly prevail 
 with God any of these three ways. For as much 
 as, being omniscient, he could not be informed ; and, 
 being void of passion or affections, he could not be 
 persuaded ; and, lastly, being omnipotent, and infi- 
 nitely great, he could not, by any importunity, be
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 443 
 
 wearied or overcome. And if so, what use then 
 can there be of rhetoric, harangue, or multitude of 
 words in prayer ? For, if they should be designed 
 for information, must it not be infinitely sottish and 
 unreasonable to go about to inform him, who can be 
 ignorant of nothing ? Or to persuade him, whose un- 
 changeable nature makes it impossible for him to be 
 moved or wrought upon ? Or, lastly, by long and 
 much speaking, to think to weary him out, whose 
 infinite power all the strength of men and angels, 
 and the whole world put together, is not able to en- 
 counter or stand before ? So that the truth is, by lo- 
 quacity and prolixity of prayer, a man does really 
 and indeed (whether he thinks so or no) rob God of 
 the honour of those three great attributes, and nei- 
 ther treats him as a person omniscient, or un- 
 changeable, or omnipotent : for, on the other side, 
 all the usefulness of long speech, in human con- 
 verse, is founded only upon the defects and imper- 
 fections of human nature. For he, whose knowledge 
 is at best but limited, and whose intellect, both in 
 apprehending and judging, proceeds by a small di- 
 minutive light, cannot but receive an additional 
 light by the conceptions of another man, clearly and 
 plainly expressed, and by such expression conveyed 
 to his apprehension. And he again, whose nature 
 subjects him to want and weakness, and conse- 
 quently to hopes and fears, cannot but be moved 
 this way or that way, according as objects suitable 
 to those passions shall be dexterously represented 
 and set before his imagination, by the arts of speak- 
 ing; which is that that we call persuasion. And 
 lastly, he whose soul and body receive their activity 
 from, and perform all their functions by, the media-
 
 444 A SERMON 
 
 tion of the spirits, which ebb and flow, consume, and 
 are renewed again, cannot but find himself very un- 
 easy upon any tedious, verbose application made to 
 him ; and that sometimes to such a degree, that, 
 through mere fatigue, and even against judgment 
 and interest both, a man shall surrender himself, as 
 a conquered person, to the overbearing vehemence of 
 such solicitations : for when they ply him so fast, and 
 pour in upon him so thick, they cannot but weai 
 and waste the spirits, as unequal to so pertinacious a 
 charge ; and this is properly to weary a man. But 
 now all weariness, we know, presupposes weakness ; 
 and consequently, every long, importune, wearisome 
 petition, is truly and properly a force upon him that 
 is pursued with it ; it is a following blow after blow 
 upon the mind and affections, and may, for the time, 
 pass for a real, though short persecution. 
 
 This is the state and condition of human nature ; 
 and prolixity or importunity of speech is still the 
 great engine to attack it by, either in its blind or 
 weak side : and I think I may venture to affirm, 
 that it is seldom that any man is prevailed upon by 
 words ; but, upon a true and philosophical estimate 
 of the whole matter, he is either deceived or wearied 
 before he is so, and parts with the thing desired of 
 him upon the very same terms that either a child 
 parts with a jewel for an apple, or a man parts with 
 his sword, when it is forceably wrested or took from 
 him. And that he who obtains what he has been 
 rhetorically or importunately begging for, goes away 
 really a conqueror, and triumphantly carrying off the 
 spoils of his neighbour's understanding, or his will ; 
 baffling the former, or wearying the latter into a 
 grant of his restless petitions.
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 445 
 
 And now, if this be the case, when any one comes 
 with a tedious, long-winded harangue to God, may 
 not God properly answer him with those words in 
 Psalm 1. 21. Surely thou thinkest I am altogether 
 such an one as thyself? And perhaps, upon a due 
 and rational examination of all the follies and inde- 
 cencies that men are apt to be guilty of in prayer, 
 they will be all found resolvable into this one thing, 
 as the true and sole cause of them ; namely, That 
 men, when they pray, take God to be such an one as 
 themselves ; and so treat him accordingly. The ma- 
 lignity and mischief of which gross mistake may 
 reach farther than possibly at first they can well be 
 aware of. For if it be idolatry to pray to God the 
 Father, represented under the shape of a man, can it 
 be at all better to pray to him, as represented under 
 the weakness of a man ? Nay, if the misrepresenta- 
 tion of the object makes the idolatry ; certainly, by 
 how much the worse and more scandalous the misre- 
 presentation is, by so much the grosser and more in- 
 tolerable must be the idolatry. To confirm which, 
 we may add this consideration, that Christ himself, 
 even 'now in his glorified estate in heaven, wears the 
 body, and consequently the shape, of a man, though 
 he is far from any of his infirmities or imperfections : 
 and therefore, no doubt, to represent God to our- 
 selves under these latter, must needs be more absurd 
 and irreligious, than to represent him under the 
 former. But to one particular of the preceding dis- 
 course some may reply and object, that, if God's om- 
 niscience, by rendering it impossible for him to be in- 
 formed, be a sufficient reason against prolixity, or 
 length of prayer ; it will follow, that it is equally a 
 reason against the using any words at all in prayer,
 
 446 A SERMON 
 
 since the proper use of words is to inform the person 
 whom we speak to ; and consequently, where infor- 
 mation is impossible, words must needs be useless and 
 superfluous. 
 
 To which I answer, first by concession, That, if 
 the sole use of words or speech were, to inform the 
 person whom we speak to, the consequence would be 
 firm and good, and equally conclude against the use 
 of any words at all in prayer. But therefore, in the 
 second place, I deny information to be the sole and 
 adequate use of words or speech, or indeed any use 
 of them at all, when either the person spoken to needs 
 not to be informed, and withal is known not to need 
 it, as sometimes it falls out with men ; or, when he 
 is uncapable of being informed, as it is always with 
 God. But the proper use of words, whensoever we 
 speak to God in prayer, is thereby to pay him ho- 
 nour and obedience. God having, by an express 
 precept, enjoined us the use of words in prayer, com- 
 manding us in Psalm 1. 15. and many other scrip- 
 tures, to call upon him: and in Luke xi. 21. When 
 we pray, to say, Our Father, &c. But no where 
 has he commanded us to do this with prolixity, or 
 multiplicity of words. And though it must be con- 
 fessed, that we may sometimes answer this command 
 of calling upon God, and saying, Our Father, &c. 
 by mental or inward prayer ; yet, since these words, 
 in their first and most proper signification, import a 
 vocal address, there is no doubt but the direct design 
 of the command is to enjoin this also, wheresoever 
 there is ability and power to perform it. So that we 
 see here the necessity of vocal prayer, founded upon 
 the authority of a divine precept ; whereas, for long 
 prolix prayer, no such precept can be produced ; and
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 447 
 
 consequently, the divine omniscience may be a suffi- 
 cient reason against multiplicity of words in prayer, 
 and yet conclude nothing simply or absolutely against 
 the bare use of them. Nevertheless, that we may 
 not seem to allege bare command, unseconded by 
 reason, (which yet, in the divine commands, it is im- 
 possible to do,) there is this great reason for, and use 
 of, words in prayer, without the least pretence of in- 
 forming the person whom we pray to ; and that is, 
 to acknowledge and own those wants before God, 
 that we supplicate for a relief of. It being very pro- 
 per and rational to own and acknowledge a thing, 
 even to him who knew it before ; forasmuch as this 
 is so far from offering to communicate or make 
 known to him the thing so acknowledged, that it 
 rather presupposes in him an antecedent knowledge 
 of it, and comes in only as a subsequent assent and 
 subscription to the reality and truth of such a know- 
 ledge. For to acknowledge a thing, in the first 
 sense of the word, does by no means signify a design 
 of notifying that thing to another, but is truly and 
 properly a man's passing sentence upon himself and 
 his own condition : there being no reason in the 
 world for a man to expect that God should relieve 
 and supply those wants that he himself will not own 
 nor take notice of; any more than for a man to hope 
 for a pardon of those sins that he cannot find in his 
 heart to confess. And yet, I suppose, no man in 
 his right senses does or can imagine, that God is in- 
 formed or brought to the knowledge of those sins by 
 any such confession. 
 
 And so much for the clearing of this objection ; 
 and, in the whole, for the first argument produced by 
 us for brevity, and against prolixity of prayer ; name-
 
 448 A SERMON 
 
 ly, That all the reasons that can be assigned for 
 prolixity of speech in our converse with men cease, 
 and become no reasons for it at all, when we are 
 to speak or pray to God. 
 
 2dly, The second argument for paucity of words 
 in prayer, shall be taken from the paucity of those 
 things that are necessary to be prayed for. And 
 surely, where few things are necessary, few words 
 should be sufficient. For where the matter is not 
 commensurate to the words, all speaking is but tau- 
 tology ; that being truly and really tautology, where 
 the same thing is repeated, though under never so 
 much variety of expression ; as it is but the same 
 man still, though he appears every day or every hour 
 in a new and different suit of clothes. 
 
 The adequate subject of our prayers (I shewed at 
 first) comprehended in it things of necessity and 
 things of charity. As to the first of which, I know no- 
 thing absolutely necessary, but grace here, and glory 
 hereafter. And for the other, we know what the Apo- 
 stle says, 1 Tim. vi. 8. Having food and raiment, let 
 us be therewith content. Nature is satisfied with a 
 little, and grace with less. And now, if the matter 
 of our prayers lies within so narrow a compass, why 
 should the dress and outside of them spread and dif- 
 fuse itself into so wide and disproportioned a large- 
 ness ? by reason of which, our words will be forced 
 to hang loose and light, without any matter to sup- 
 port them ; much after the same rate that it is said 
 to be in transubstantiation, where accidents are left 
 in the lurch by their proper subject, that gives them 
 the slip, and so leaves those poor slender beings to 
 uphold and shift for themselves. 
 
 In brevity of speech, a man does not so much
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 449 
 
 speak words, as things ; things in their precise and 
 naked truth, and stripped of their rhetorical mask 
 and their fallacious gloss ; and therefore in Athens 
 they circumscribed the pleadings of their orators by 
 a strict law, cutting off prologues and epilogues, and 
 commanding them to an immediate representation 
 of the case, by an impartial and succinct declaration 
 of mere matter of fact. And this was, indeed, to 
 speak things fit for a judge to hear, because it ar- 
 gued the pleader also a judge of what was fit for 
 him to speak. 
 
 And now, why should not this be both decency 
 and devotion too, when we come to plead for our 
 poor souls before the great tribunal of heaven ? It 
 was the saying of Solomon, A word to the wise; and 
 if sor certainly there can be no necessity of many 
 words to Him who is wisdom itself. For can any 
 man think, that God delights to hear him make 
 Speeches, and to shew his parts, (as the word is,) or 
 to jumble a multitude of misapplied scripture-sen- 
 tences together, interlarded with a frequent, nau- 
 seous repetition of" Ah Lord !" which some call exer- 
 cising their gifts, but with a greater exercise of their 
 hearers' patience? Nay, does not he present his 
 Maker, not only with a more decent, but also a more 
 free and liberal oblation, who tenders him much in a 
 little, and brings him his whole heart and soul wrapt 
 up in three or four words, than he who, with full 
 mouth and loud lungs, sends up whole volleys of ar- 
 ticulate breath to the throne of grace ? For neither 
 in the esteem of God or man ought multitude of 
 words to pass for any more. In the present case, no 
 doubt, God accounts and accepts of the former, as 
 infinitely a more valuable offering than the latter. 
 
 VOL. i. G g
 
 450 A SERMON 
 
 As that subject pays his prince a much nobler and 
 more acceptable tribute, who tenders him a purse of 
 gold, than he who brings him a whole cart-load of 
 farthings, in which there is weight without worth, 
 and number without account. 
 
 3dly,The third argument for brevity,or contracted- 
 ness of speech in prayer, shall be taken from the very 
 nature and condition of the person who prays ; which 
 makes it impossible for him to keep up the same 
 fervour and attention in a long prayer, that he may 
 in a short. For as I first observed, that the mind of 
 man cannot with the same force and vigour attend 
 to several objects at the same time, so neither can it 
 with the same force and earnestness exert itself 
 upon one and the same object for any long time : 
 great intention of mind spending the spirits too fast, 
 to continue its first freshness and agility long. For 
 while the soul is a retainer to the elements, and a 
 sojourner in the body, it must be content to submit 
 its own quickness and spirituality to the dulness of 
 its vehicle, and to comply with the pace of its in- 
 ferior companion. Just like a man shut up in a coach, 
 who, while he is so, must be willing to go no faster 
 than the motion of the coach will carry him. He 
 who does all by the help of those subtile, refined 
 parts of matter, called spirits, must not think to per- 
 severe at the same pitch of acting, while those prin- ' 
 ciples of activity flag. No man begins and ends a 
 long journey with the same pace. 
 
 But now, when prayer has lost its due fervour 
 and attention, (which indeed are the very vitals of 
 it,) it is but the carcase of a prayer, and consequently 
 must needs be loathsome and offensive to God : nay, 
 though the greatest part of it should be enlivened
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 451 
 
 w 
 
 and carried on with an actual attention, yet, if that 
 attention fails to enliven any one part of it, the 
 whole is but a joining of the living and the dead 
 together ; for which conjunction the dead is not at 
 all the better, but the living very much the worse. 
 It is not length, nor copiousness of language, that is 
 devotion, any more than bulk and bigness is valour, 
 or flesh the measure of the spirit. A short sentence 
 may be oftentimes a large and a mighty prayer. 
 Devotion so managed being like water in a well, 
 where you have fulness in a little compass ; which 
 surely is much nobler than the same carried out into 
 many petit, creeping rivulets, with length and shal- 
 lowness together. Let him who prays bestow all that 
 strength, fervour, and attention, upon shortness and 
 significance, that would otherwise run out and lose 
 itself in length and luxuriancy of speech to no pur- 
 pose. Let not his tongue outstrip his heart, nor pre- 
 sume to carry a message to the throne of grace, 
 while that stays behind. Let him not think to sup- 
 port so hard and weighty a duty with a tired, lan- 
 guishing, and bejaded devotion : to avoid which, let 
 a man contract his expression, where he cannot en- 
 large his affection ; still remembering, that nothing 
 can be more absurd in itself, nor more unacceptable 
 to God, than for one engaged in the great work of 
 prayer to hold on speaking, after he has left off 
 praying, and to keep the lips at work, when the spirit 
 can do no more. 
 
 4thly, The fourth argument for shortness or con- 
 ciseness of speech in prayer shall be drawn from 
 this, That it is the most natural and lively way of 
 expressing the utmost agonies and outcries of the 
 soul to God upon a quick, pungent sense, either of
 
 452 A SERMON 
 
 
 
 a pressing necessity, or an approaching calamity; 
 which, we know, are generally the chief occasions of 
 prayer, and the most effectual motives to bring men 
 upon their knees, in a vigorous application of them- 
 selves to this great duty. A person ready to sink 
 under his wants, has neither time nor heart to rhe- 
 toricate or make flourishes. No man begins a long 
 grace, when he is ready to starve : such an one's 
 prayers are like the relief he needs, quick and sud- 
 den, short and immediate : he is like a man in tor- 
 ture upon the rack ; whose pains are too acute to let 
 his words be many, and whose desires of deliverance 
 too impatient, to delay the things he begs for by the 
 manner of his begging it. 
 
 It is a common saying, " If a man does not know 
 " how to pray, let him go to sea, and that will teach 
 " him." And we have a notable instance of what kind 
 of prayers men are taught in that school, even in the 
 disciples themselves, when a storm arose, and the sea 
 raged, and the ship was ready to be cast away, in the 
 eighth of Matthew. In which case, we do not find 
 that they fell presently to harangue it about seas 
 and winds, and- that dismal face of things that must 
 needs appear all over the devouring element at such 
 a time : all which, and the like, might no doubt have 
 been very plentiful topics of eloquence to a man 
 who should have looked upon these things from the 
 shore, or discoursed of wrecks and tempests safe and 
 warm in his parlour. But these poor wretches, who 
 were now entering, as they thought, into the very 
 jaws of death, struggling with the last efforts of 
 nature upon the sense of a departing life, and conse- 
 quently could neither speak nor think any thing low 
 or ordinary in such a condition, presently rallied up,
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 453 
 
 t 
 
 and discharged the whole concern of their despond- 
 ing souls, in that short prayer of but three words, 
 though much fuller and more forcible than one of 
 three thousand, in the 25th verse of the foremen- 
 tioned chapter ; Save us, Lord, or we perish. Death 
 makes short work when it comes, and will teach 
 him, who -would prevent it, to make shorter. For 
 surely no man who thinks himself a perishing can be 
 at leisure to be eloquent, or judge it either sense or 
 devotion to begin a long prayer, when, in all like- 
 lihood, he shall conclude his life before it. 
 
 5thly. The fifth and last argument that I shall 
 produce for brevity of speech, or fewness of words 
 in prayer, shall be taken from the examples which 
 we find in scripture, of such as have been remark- 
 able for brevity, and of such as have been noted for 
 prolixity of speech, in the discharge of this duty. 
 
 1. And first for brevity. To omit all those nota- 
 ble examples which the Old Testament affords us of 
 it, and to confine ourselves only to the New, in 
 which we are undoubtedly most concerned; was not 
 this way of praying, not only warranted, but sancti- 
 fied, and set above all that the wit of man could 
 possibly except against it, by that infinitely exact 
 form of prayer, prescribed by the greatest, the ho- 
 liest, and the wisest man that ever lived, even Christ 
 himself, the Son of God, and Saviour of the world ? 
 Was it not an instance both of the truest devotion, 
 and the fullest and most comprehensive reason, that 
 ever proceeded from the mouth of man ? and yet, 
 withal, the shortest and most succinct model that 
 ever grasped all the needs and occasions of man- 
 kind, both spiritual and temporal, into so small a 
 compass? Doubtless, had our Saviour thought fit 
 
 Gg,3
 
 454 A SERMON 
 
 to amplify or be prolix, He, in whom were hid all 
 the treasures of wisdom, could not want matter ; 
 nor he who was himself the Word, want variety of 
 the fittest to have expressed his mind by. But he 
 chose rather to contract the whole concern of both 
 worlds into a few lines, and to unite both heaven and 
 earth in his prayer, as he had done before in his 
 person. And indeed one was a kind of copy or re- 
 presentation of the other. 
 
 So then we see here brevity in the rule or pat- 
 tern ; let us see it next in the practice ; and, after 
 that, in the success of prayer. And first, we have 
 the practice, as well as the pattern of it, in our Sa- 
 viour himself; and that in the most signal passage 
 of his whole life, even his preparation for his ap- 
 proaching death. In which dolorous scene, when 
 his whole soul was nothing but sorrow, (that great 
 moving spring of invention and elocution,) and when 
 nature was put to its last and utmost stretch, and 
 so had no refuge or relief but in prayer ; yet even 
 then all this horror, agony, and distress of spirit, 
 delivers itself but in two very short sentences, in 
 Matt. xxvi. 39. O my Father, if it be possible, 
 let this cup pass from me ; nevertheless, not as I 
 will, but as thou wilt. And again, the second time, 
 with the like brevity and the like words : O my 
 Father, if this cup may not pass from me, except 
 I drink it, thy will be done. And lastly, the third 
 time also, he used the same short form again ; and 
 yet in all this he was (as we may say without a 
 metaphor) even praying for life, so far as the great 
 business he was then about, to wit, the redemption 
 of the world, would suffer him to pray for it. All 
 which prayers of our Saviour, and others of like
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 455 
 
 brevity, are properly such as we call ejaculations ; 
 an elegant similitude from a dart or arrow, shot or 
 thrown out ; and such an one (we know) of a yard 
 long, will fly farther, and strike deeper, than one of 
 twenty. 
 
 And then, in the last place, for the success of such 
 brief prayers, I shall give you but three instances 
 of this ; but they shaU be of persons praying under 
 the pressure of as great miseries as human nature 
 could well be afflicted with. And the first shall be 
 of the leper, Matt. viii. 2. or, as St. Luke describes 
 him, a man full of leprosy, who came to our Sa- 
 viour, and worshipped him ; and, as St. Luke again 
 has it more particularly, jfe// on his face before him, 
 (whicji is the lowest and most devout of all postures 
 of worship,) saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst 
 make me clean. This was all his prayer : and the 
 answer to it was, that he was immediately cleansed; 
 The next instance shall be of the poor blind man, 
 in Luke xviii. 38. following our Saviour with this 
 earnest prayer : Jesus, thou son of David, have 
 mercy upon me. His whole prayer was no more : 
 for it is said in the next verse, that he went on re- 
 peating it again and again : Jesus, thou son of Da- 
 vid, have mercy upon me. And the answer he re- 
 ceived was, that his eyes were opened, and his sight 
 restored. 
 
 The third and last instance shall be of the pub- 
 lican, in the same chapter of St. Luke, praying 
 under a lively sense of as great a leprosy and 
 blindness of soul, as the other two could have of 
 body : in the 13th verse, he smote upon his breast, 
 saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. He spoke 
 no more ; though it is said in the 10th verse, that 
 
 Gg4
 
 456 A SERMON 
 
 he went solemnly and purposely up to the temple to 
 pray : the issue and success of which prayer was, 
 that he went home justified, before one of those 
 whom all the Jewish church revered as absolutely 
 the highest and most heroic examples of piety, and 
 most beloved favourites of Heaven, in the whole 
 world. And now, if the force and virtue of these 
 short prayers could rise so high as to cleanse a 
 leper, to give sight to the blind, and to justify a 
 publican ; and if the worth of a prayer may at all 
 be measured by the success of it, I suppose no 
 prayers whatsoever can do more ; and I never yet 
 heard or read of any long prayer that did so much. 
 Which brings on the other part of this our fifth and 
 last argument, which was to be drawn from the ex- 
 amples of such as have been noted in scripture for 
 prolixity or length of prayer. And of this there 
 are only two mentioned, the heathens and the Pha- 
 risees. The first, the grand instance of idolatry ; 
 the other, of hypocrisy : but Christ forbids us the 
 imitation of both ; When ye pray, says our Saviour 
 in the 6th of Matthew, be ye not like the heathens : 
 but in what? Why in this, That they think they 
 shall be heard for their much speaking ; in the 
 7th verse. It is not the multitude that prevails in 
 armies, and much less in words. And then for the 
 Pharisees, whom our Saviour represents as the very 
 vilest of men, and the greatest of cheats. We have 
 them amusing the world with pretences of a more re- 
 fined devotion, while their heart was all that time in 
 their neighbour's coffers. For does not our Saviour 
 expressly tell us in Luke xx. and the two last verses, 
 that the great tools, the hooks or engines, by which 
 they compassed their worst, their wickedest, and most
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 457 
 
 rapacious designs, were long prayers ? prayers made 
 only for a shew or colour ; and that to the basest 
 and most degenerous sort of villainy, even the rob- 
 bing the spittal, and devouring the houses of poor, 
 helpless, forlorn widows. Their devotion served all 
 along but as an instrument to their avarice, as a 
 factor or under-agent to their extortion. A prac- 
 tice, which, duly seen into, and stripped of its hypo- 
 critical blinds, could not but look very odiously and 
 ill-favouredly ; and therefore in come their long 
 robes, and their long prayers together, and cover all. 
 And the truth is, neither the length of one nor of 
 the other is ever found so useful, as when there is 
 something more than ordinary that would not be seen. 
 This was the gainful godliness of the Pharisees ; and, 
 I believe, upon good observation, you will hardly find 
 any like the Pharisees for their long prayers, who 
 are not also extremely like them for something 
 else. And thus having given you five arguments 
 for brevity, and against prolixity of prayer, let us 
 now make this our other great rule, whereby to judge 
 of the prayers of our church, and the prayers of 
 those who dissent and divide from it. And, 
 
 First, for that excellent body of prayers con- 
 tained in our liturgy, and both compiled and en- 
 joined by public authority. Have we not here a 
 great instance of brevity and fulness together, cast 
 into several short significant collects, each contain- 
 ing a distinct, entire, and well-managed petition ? 
 the whole set of them being like a string of pearls, 
 exceeding rich in conjunction ; and therefore of no 
 small price or value, even single and by themselves. 
 Nothing could have been composed with greater 
 judgment ; every prayer being so short, that it is
 
 458 A SERMON 
 
 impossible it should weary ; and withal so pertinent, 
 that it is impossible it should cloy the devotion. 
 And indeed so admirably fitted are they all to the 
 common concerns of a Christian society, that when 
 the rubric enjoins but the use of some of them, our 
 worship is not imperfect; and when we use them 
 all, there is none of them superfluous. 
 
 And the reason assigned by some learned men for 
 the preference of many short prayers before a con- 
 tinued long one, is unanswerable ; namely, that by 
 the former there is a more frequently repeated men- 
 tion made of the name, and some great attribute of 
 God, as the encouraging ground of our praying to 
 him ; and withal, of the merits and mediation of 
 Christ, as the only thing that can promise us success 
 in what we pray for : every distinct petition begin- 
 ning with the former, and ending with the latter : 
 by thus annexing of which to each particular thing 
 that we ask for, we do manifestly confess and de- 
 clare, that we cannot expect to obtain any one thing 
 at the hands of God, but with a particular renewed 
 respect to the merits of a Mediator ; and withal, re- 
 mind the congregation of the same, by making it 
 their part to renew a distinct Amen to every dis- 
 tinct petition. 
 
 Add to this the excellent contrivance of a great 
 part of our liturgy, into alternate responses; by 
 which means, the people are put to bear a consider- 
 able share in the whole service : which makes it al- 
 most impossible for them to be only idle hearers, or, 
 which is worse, mere lookers on : as they are very 
 often, and may be always, (if they can but keep their 
 eyes open,) at the long tedious prayers of the non- 
 conformists. And this indeed is that which makes
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 459 
 
 and denominates our liturgy truly and properly a 
 book of common prayer. For I think I may truly 
 avouch, (how strange soever it may seem at first,) 
 that there is no such thing as common or joint 
 prayer any where amongst the principal dissenters 
 from the church of England : for in the Romish 
 communion, the priest says over the appointed pray- 
 ers only to himself; and the rest of the people, not 
 hearing a word of what he says, repeat also their 
 own particular prayers to themselves, and when they 
 have done, go their way : not all at once, as neither 
 do they come at once, but scatteringly, one after an- 
 other, according as they have finished their devc- 
 tions. And then, for the nonconformists, their pray- 
 ers being all extempore, it is, as we have shewn be- 
 fore, hardly possible for any, and utterly impossible 
 for all, to join in them : for surely people cannot 
 join in a prayer before they understand it ; nor can 
 it be imagined that all capacities should presently 
 and immediately understand what they hear, when, 
 possibly, Holder-forth himself understands not what 
 he says. From all which we may venture to con- 
 clude, that that excellent thing, common prayer, 
 which is the joint address of an whole congregation 
 with united voice, as well as heart, sending up their 
 devotions to Almighty God, is no where to be found 
 in these kingdoms, but in that best and nearest copy 
 of primitive Christian worship, the divine service, as 
 it is performed according to the orders of our 
 church. 
 
 As for those long prayers so frequently used by 
 some before their sermons ; the constitution and 
 canons of our church are not at all responsible for 
 them, having provided us better things, and with
 
 460 A SERMON 
 
 great wisdom appointed a form of prayer to be used 
 by all before their sermons. But as for this way of 
 praying, now generally in use, as it was first took 
 up upon an humour of novelty and popularity, and 
 by the same carried on till it had passed into a cus- 
 tom, and so put the rule of the church first out of 
 use, and then out of countenance also ; so, if it be 
 rightly considered, it will, in the very nature of the 
 thing itself, be found a very senseless and absurd 
 practice. For can there be any sense or propriety 
 in beginning a new, tedious prayer in the pulpit, 
 just after the church has, for near an hour together, 
 with great variety of offices, suitable to all the needs 
 of the congregation, been praying for all that can 
 possibly be fit for Christians to pray for ? Nothing 
 certainly can be more irrational. For which cause, 
 amongst many more, that old sober form of bidding- 
 prayer, which, both against law and reason, has been 
 justled out of the church by this upstart, puritanical 
 encroachment, ought, with great reason, to be re- 
 stored by authority ; and both the use and users 'of 
 it, by a strict and solemn reinforcement of the canon 
 upon all, without exception, be rescued from that 
 unjust scorn of the factious and ignorant, which the 
 tyranny of the contrary usurping custom will other- 
 wise expose them to. For surely it can neither be 
 decency nor order for our clergy to conform to the 
 fanatics, as many in their prayers before sermon 
 nowadays do. 
 
 And thus having accounted for the prayers of our 
 church, according to the great rule prescribed in the 
 text, Let thy words be- few ; let us now, according 
 to the same, consider also the way of praying, so 
 much used and applauded by such as have re-
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 461 
 
 nounced the communion and liturgy of our church ; 
 and it is but reason that they should bring us some- 
 thing better, in the room of what they have so dis- 
 dainfully cast off. But, on the contrary, are not all 
 their prayers exactly after the heathenish and pha- 
 risaical copy ? always notable for those two things, 
 length and tautology? Two whole hours for one 
 prayer, at a fast, used to be reckoned but a moderate 
 dose ; and that, for the most part, fraught with such 
 irreverent, blasphemous expressions, that to repeat 
 them would profane the place I am speaking in ; 
 and indeed they seldom " carried on the work of 
 " such a day," (as their phrase was,) but they left 
 the church in need of a new consecration. Add to 
 this, ^he incoherence and confusion, the endless re- 
 petitions, and the unsufferable nonsense that never 
 failed to hold out, even with their utmost prolixity ; 
 so that in all their long fasts, from first to last, from 
 seven in the morning to seven in the evening, 
 (which was their measure,) the pulpit was always 
 the emptiest thing- in the church : and I never knew 
 such a fast kept by them, but their hearers had 
 cause to begin a thanksgiving as soon as they had 
 done. And the truth is, when I consider the mat- 
 ter of their prayers, so full of ramble and inconse- 
 quence, and in every respect so very like the lan- 
 guage of a dream ; and compare it with their car- 
 riage of themselves in prayer, with their eyes for 
 the most part shut, and their arms stretched out in 
 yawning posture, a man that should hear any of 
 them pray, might, by a very pardonable error, be in- 
 duced to think that he was all the time hearing one 
 talking in his sleep : besides the strange virtue which
 
 462 A SERMON 
 
 their prayers had to procure sleep in others too. So 
 that he who should be present at all their long cant, 
 would shew a greater ability in watching, than ever 
 they could pretend to in praying, if he could forbear 
 sleeping, having so strong a provocation to it, and 
 so fair an excuse for it. In a word, such were their 
 prayers, both for matter and expression, that, could 
 any one truly and exactly write them out, it would 
 be the shrewdest and most effectual way of writing 
 against them, that could possibly be thought of. 
 
 I should not have thus troubled either you or my- 
 self, by raking into the dirt and dunghill of these 
 men's devotions, upon the account of any thing ei- 
 ther done or said by them in the late times of con- 
 fusion ; for as they have the king's, so I wish them 
 God's pardon also, whom, I am sure, they have 
 offended much more than they have both kings 
 put together. But that which has provoked me 
 thus to rip up and expose to you their nauseous and 
 ridiculous way of addressing to God, even upon the 
 most solemn occasions, is, that intolerably rude and 
 unprovoked insolence and scurrility, with which they 
 are every day reproaching and scoffing at our liturgy, 
 and the users of it, and thereby alienating the minds 
 of the people from it, to such a degree, that many 
 thousands are drawn by them into a fatal schism ; a 
 schism, that, unrepented of, and continued in, will as 
 infallibly ruin their souls, as theft, whoredom, mur- 
 der, or any other of the most crying, damning sins 
 whatsoever. But leaving this to the justice of the 
 government, to which it belongs to protect us in 
 our spiritual as well as in our temporal concerns, I 
 shall only say this, that nothing can be more for the
 
 ON ECCLESIASTES V. 2. 463 
 
 honour of our liturgy, than to find it despised only 
 by those who have made themselves remarkable to 
 the world for despising the Lord's prayer as much. 
 
 In the mean time, for ourselves of the church of 
 England, who, without pretending to any new lights, 
 think it equally a duty and commendation to be 
 wise, and to be devout only to sobriety, and who 
 judge it no dishonour to God himself to be wor- 
 shipped according to law and rule. If the directions 
 of Solomon, the precept and example of our Sa- 
 viour, and lastly, the piety and experience of those 
 excellent men and martyrs, who first composed, and 
 afterwards owned our liturgy with their dearest 
 blood, may be looked upon as safe and sufficient 
 guides tb us in our public worship of God; then, 
 upon the joint authority of all these, we may pro- 
 nounce our liturgy the greatest treasure of rational 
 devotion in the Christian world. And I know no 
 prayer necessary, that is not in the liturgy, but one, 
 which is this ; That God would vouchsafe to con- 
 tinue the liturgy itself in use, honour, and venera- 
 tion in this church for ever. And I doubt not but 
 all wise, sober, and good Christians, will, with equal 
 judgment and affection, give it their Amen. 
 
 Now to God the Father, God the Son, and God 
 the Holy Ghost, three Persons and one God, 
 be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all 
 praise, might, majesty, and dominion, both now 
 and/or evermore. Amen. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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